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Are we just being silly?
Sep. 11th, 2012 07:05 pmhave some twincest i guesS??
don't bUG ME I'LL KICK YOU IN THE VIRTUAL TEETH
-------
It’s dark. Mabel opened the window again before we went to bed, and the night breeze was blowing in the attic, making me cling to the thin blankets that Grunkle Stan gave us. It’s almost fall.
Almost time for us to leave Gravity Falls.
I bite my lip, and shift in my bed. Closing my eyes but finding no consolation in doing so. Gravity Falls is more to me than the place our parents shipped us off to because they didn't feel like putting up with us, because they wanted alone time, because they hated spending time and money on us.
It’s the place me and Mabel solved so many mysteries and had so many adventures, saw new things, learned new things, laughed a lot. It’s where I learned that Mabel has a habit of biting the insides of her cheeks when she’s deep in thought, the way her fingers can’t sit still, they have to be pulling loose threads on her sweaters or drumming silly songs on tabletops, the gleam in her eye when she gets an idea, the way her smile brightens the room and everyone in it, the way her cheeks are always rosy and warm, the way her fingers feel between mine when she drags me off to show me something she finds amazing.
It’s the place I learned so much about Mabel.
I glance across the room, and a strip of moonlight is across her face. So peaceful. She’s not worrying, about being too silly, about people not liking her. She’s not lonely, deserted by our parents and outcasted by our class. She’s not upset that I chose to ignore the people who hated her and liked me so I could eat lunch with her every day underneath the oak tree at school.
She’s happy, and I love to see my sister happy. It’s contagious, her happiness. She makes everyone else happy, too.
But her sadness is just as contagious.
And even though she thinks she hides it with her silly personality and wool sweaters, I’m not fooled.
She shifts, as if feeling my gaze, and her eyelids flutter. “Dipper?”
“Yeah?”
“Can’t sleep?” She sits up, yawning, and scoots to the edge of her bed.
“It’s okay,” I say quickly, “you don’t have to get up, I’ll fall asleep.” I feel my cheeks burn when she proceeds the slide off her bed and stumble over to my bed. “Really,” I try to insist, but she sits next to me, way too close, and leans her head on my shoulder.
“Hey, Dipper, remember when we were five, and you promised to marry me?”
“Y-yeah, I do.” I look at her curiously. “Why?”
She pauses for a minute, and finally mumbles, “Just making sure.”
A knot forms in my stomach, and I look down at her, just as she lifts her head to look at me. I feel the tension between us, the stiffness in my fingers as her chocolate brown eyes pierce me, the sadness back, and I know what’s causing it.
I close my eyes, trying to block out all of these feelings. Is it normal to think your sister’s adorable? Is it normal to think she deserves the world? Is it normal to get jealous when someone else shows signs of giving her that?
Is it normal to be in love with your twin sister?
I open my eyes, and she’s closer to me than I expected her to be, but I don’t back away. I breath in the scent of bubble gum and shampoo and wool, and in this night time chill, her breath feels nice against my face.
Her expression is different than I’ve ever seen it. There’s something in her eyes that I can’t quite place, the corners of her lips upturned, her eyebrows lifted just enough to show her anticipation.
And when I kissed her, her nose was cold against mine, but her chapped lips were warm. My stomach dropped, my legs trembled, and my face burned, but I was kissing her, and she was kissing me back.
She pulled away after what seemed like ages, yet it was far too soon. She reached her hand up to touch my face. Her fingers found my birth mark and lifted my hair, and, craning her neck, she pressed her lips to it, before wrapping her arms around me and pulling me down under the covers. Her fingers rested around my waist, her forehead against my chest, her legs entwined with mine. I pulled her closer, her warmth washing over me like only hers could, and I ran my fingers through her hair, soft as silk, and felt a smile against my stomach.
“Night, Dip.”
My hands settled at the small of her back, and I closed my eyes, finally at peace.
“Night, Mabe.”
don't bUG ME I'LL KICK YOU IN THE VIRTUAL TEETH
-------
It’s dark. Mabel opened the window again before we went to bed, and the night breeze was blowing in the attic, making me cling to the thin blankets that Grunkle Stan gave us. It’s almost fall.
Almost time for us to leave Gravity Falls.
I bite my lip, and shift in my bed. Closing my eyes but finding no consolation in doing so. Gravity Falls is more to me than the place our parents shipped us off to because they didn't feel like putting up with us, because they wanted alone time, because they hated spending time and money on us.
It’s the place me and Mabel solved so many mysteries and had so many adventures, saw new things, learned new things, laughed a lot. It’s where I learned that Mabel has a habit of biting the insides of her cheeks when she’s deep in thought, the way her fingers can’t sit still, they have to be pulling loose threads on her sweaters or drumming silly songs on tabletops, the gleam in her eye when she gets an idea, the way her smile brightens the room and everyone in it, the way her cheeks are always rosy and warm, the way her fingers feel between mine when she drags me off to show me something she finds amazing.
It’s the place I learned so much about Mabel.
I glance across the room, and a strip of moonlight is across her face. So peaceful. She’s not worrying, about being too silly, about people not liking her. She’s not lonely, deserted by our parents and outcasted by our class. She’s not upset that I chose to ignore the people who hated her and liked me so I could eat lunch with her every day underneath the oak tree at school.
She’s happy, and I love to see my sister happy. It’s contagious, her happiness. She makes everyone else happy, too.
But her sadness is just as contagious.
And even though she thinks she hides it with her silly personality and wool sweaters, I’m not fooled.
She shifts, as if feeling my gaze, and her eyelids flutter. “Dipper?”
“Yeah?”
“Can’t sleep?” She sits up, yawning, and scoots to the edge of her bed.
“It’s okay,” I say quickly, “you don’t have to get up, I’ll fall asleep.” I feel my cheeks burn when she proceeds the slide off her bed and stumble over to my bed. “Really,” I try to insist, but she sits next to me, way too close, and leans her head on my shoulder.
“Hey, Dipper, remember when we were five, and you promised to marry me?”
“Y-yeah, I do.” I look at her curiously. “Why?”
She pauses for a minute, and finally mumbles, “Just making sure.”
A knot forms in my stomach, and I look down at her, just as she lifts her head to look at me. I feel the tension between us, the stiffness in my fingers as her chocolate brown eyes pierce me, the sadness back, and I know what’s causing it.
I close my eyes, trying to block out all of these feelings. Is it normal to think your sister’s adorable? Is it normal to think she deserves the world? Is it normal to get jealous when someone else shows signs of giving her that?
Is it normal to be in love with your twin sister?
I open my eyes, and she’s closer to me than I expected her to be, but I don’t back away. I breath in the scent of bubble gum and shampoo and wool, and in this night time chill, her breath feels nice against my face.
Her expression is different than I’ve ever seen it. There’s something in her eyes that I can’t quite place, the corners of her lips upturned, her eyebrows lifted just enough to show her anticipation.
And when I kissed her, her nose was cold against mine, but her chapped lips were warm. My stomach dropped, my legs trembled, and my face burned, but I was kissing her, and she was kissing me back.
She pulled away after what seemed like ages, yet it was far too soon. She reached her hand up to touch my face. Her fingers found my birth mark and lifted my hair, and, craning her neck, she pressed her lips to it, before wrapping her arms around me and pulling me down under the covers. Her fingers rested around my waist, her forehead against my chest, her legs entwined with mine. I pulled her closer, her warmth washing over me like only hers could, and I ran my fingers through her hair, soft as silk, and felt a smile against my stomach.
“Night, Dip.”
My hands settled at the small of her back, and I closed my eyes, finally at peace.
“Night, Mabe.”
