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Dipper was six when he began thinking of himself as a, well, he.
It was a weird transition, he’d admit, but at the same time, it wasn’t. There wasn’t any real difference in the change, if he could even call it that. He’d always thought of himself as different from what everyone else thought of him, and it bothered him for the longest time. When his thoughts began to become very concentrated on the matter, he decided he’d just start thinking of himself as a boy. That’s what he wanted, and that’s what he wanted everyone else to know as well.
The only problem was that Dipper never told that little fact to anyone out loud before. He had tried hinting at it, being disgusted by girl clothing and throwing the occasional “I don’t want to look like a girl” comment, but his parents never took him seriously. Of course they wouldn’t. He was only a child to them, and therefore couldn’t make such serious decisions.
They were wrong. Dipper knew what he wanted, and he was determined to eventually get it. Courage, however, was something he lacked in that area, so he put up with just having boyish clothes and short hair - which his parents were never bothered by. The occasional dress and constant use of the word she, though, were definitely things that bothered him.
If he ever wanted people to know the real him, Dipper knew he would have to tell someone eventually. He was just scared. He had no clue what he was stumbling into, and the outcome might not be all that great. But he would tell someone. He was positive on that.
Mabel came first. Mabel always came first.
It happened one late summer’s day, a couple weeks before their tenth birthday. Dipper was sitting on his bed in their room, looking at nothing in particular but thinking of everything a nine year old’s mind possibly could on his...situation, for lack of a better word. He’d been dressing like a boy since he knew how to pick out clothes for himself, and he’d gotten his hair cut down even shorter than it already was the summer before, but this was new. This was uncharted territory he was scared of crossing because he was nine and the world could be such a scary place sometimes.
The door to their room slammed open and Mabel came barging in. Dipper jumped slightly, startled by the sudden noise. His sister didn’t notice as she ran a brush through her thick hair, humming an out of tune cartoon theme song to herself while she did. Dipper hadn’t actually went through the precautions of developing a plan, but he couldn’t think of a better opportunity.
I wanna wait but I’m already freaked out enough as it is. I can’t risk never telling Mabel, can I? Dipper frowned, the thought displeasing him. Of course not. If anyone is bound to understand this “thing,” it’s Mabel.
“M-Mabel?” Dipper began, his sister’s name coming out as more of a question than he intended. He tried to pretend the tone of his voice forcibly dropping down a pitch was nothing unusual, as he usually opted to bring down his voice whenever he could. Either Mabel wasn’t curious enough to ask questions or concern herself with his voice - like their parents - or she just never took notice. Dipper was kind of stuck in the middle between the two options.
If Mabel really didn’t care to ask about the subtle changes going on in his life then that would also mean she probably wouldn’t care about him being him. Though that might also mean she didn’t care enough about him to even check and see if everything was okay, which it definitely was not. The latter might hint towards his sister not caring for genders and who was what, but he couldn’t be positive.
Dipper hated it when things didn’t have a clear answer.
“Oh, hey Dipper! I didn’t see you there!” Mabel’s chipper voice reached his ears, obvious surprise in her tone. His sister wasn’t always the most observant of her surroundings.
Dipper took a moment to think, unsure of where he should tread. No one ever explained the directions and rules leading up to telling someone else about his situation to him, so he could only hope that things went alright.
Apparently his thinking was taking way too long. Mabel already went on, babbling about something that involved spilt chocolate pudding and sporks. Dipper considered interrupting her, wanting to get the confession off his chest, but the more she talked, the more Dipper realized he was dreading the moment he would have to speak. Maybe it would be for the best if he just didn’t tell her, or their parents, or anyone. Maybe he could figure out a way to keep it a secret forever and settle for acting like a tomboy for the rest of his life.
“So, Dipper, did you need something?” she questioned, the subject of her endless talking suddenly turning to him. His stomach twisted uncomfortably, thrown off guard by the spotlight being handed over to him.
Regretting ever trying to bring up the topic with her, Dipper opted not to answer, relying on the assumption that Mabel would brush him off after deeming him too boring and “not fun.”
That never came.
Mabel abruptly halted her brushing, setting the glittery pink object down. She no longer possessed the same aloof happiness she had mere seconds ago; instead, her eyebrows were drawn tightly together and a solid frown adorned her lips. To Dipper, she looked almost worried.
Involuntary tensing, Dipper averted his eyes. His sister rarely looked anything like that. He wished he would’ve picked today to watch cartoons and not have a potentially life-changing conversation with his sister.
He refused to look up when he felt a dip in the bed, the extra weight no doubt being Mabel. They both liked being in close proximity with each other when the other was feeling down, but this...Dipper had no idea what this was even supposed to be.
“Dipper, what’s wrong?” Mabel hesitantly asked, reaching out a tentative hand to place around his shoulders. He felt confined, like the walls of their room were going to crush him at any minute. It wasn’t a very comforting sensation.
His sister waited in silence for a while, undeterred from her task of helping Dipper even when he continued to let the awkward quietness stretch out. The concept of talking almost made him feel sick. Still, there was something there. Something he knew he needed to get out before it ate at him from the inside, reducing him to a hollow, empty shell.
Gulping audibly, Dipper began timidly speaking, “Mabel, there’s this thing I’ve been...” he trailed off, bringing his eyes up to look his sister in the face. Her expression wasn’t prying, merely curious and concerned for his well-being.
Words eluded him as he racked his brain for what to say. He wished he wasn’t so unprepared.
“Dipper?” Mabel’s voice met his ears once again. “You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”
But I don’t really think this qualifies as just “anything,” Mabel.
Dipper sighed. “Yes, I know. It’s just hard for me because this isn’t some normal thing,” he said, pausing at Mabel’s confused look at the word “normal.” The thoughts of her being too young to understand came back, making Dipper feel overly self conscious.
“What’s not ‘normal,’ Dipper?” Mabel moved her hand away from his back, giving him a little room to settle.
He made a strained noise in the back of his throat, like he wanted to speak but couldn’t bare voicing his thoughts, which was beyond the truth. Brown eyes dropping down and clouding with discomfort, Dipper stared at the purple comforter he sat on, fingers finding a loose thread and pulling on it.
“I’m not normal,” his voice was barely more than a whisper. Blood rushed to his cheeks when Mabel threw him a quizzical look. He tried elaborating, but everything he said felt awkward and stiff.
“My body...is wrong. Everyone calls me something I’m not - or something I think I’m not, anyways. Mom, Dad, other kids, you.” Dipper stopped on that word, meeting his sister’s gaze once more. Her open, confused look caused him to keep talking, too determined to stop now. “No one understands this since I’m young, I guess, but that shouldn’t mean anything. I know how to make choices in my life, even though I’m not even ten yet.”
There was a minute where neither twin spoke, Mabel trying to comprehend all the information Dipper was kind-of-saying-but-not-really. Clarification from Dipper was the only thing holding both twins back from getting what they each wanted: relief and knowledge.
“Mabel,” Dipper ventured, carefully planning out his next few word choices. “I’m not a girl, and...I really want you to understand this.”
Even after those words were spoken, his sister’s careful expression didn’t change. That alone was enough to make Dipper look away, shame watery in his eyes. His face had grown redder out of embarrassment, and he could practically feel the temperature in the room grow increasingly hotter.
“So, you’re a boy?”
The sudden sound of Mabel’s voice nearly made Dipper jump. Turning back to her, eyes wide, Dipper was stunned. Out of everything she could have said, that was her question? Hesitantly, Dipper responded, “Um, yes.”
Mabel’s uncontrollable giggling was the next thing that caused him to freeze in place, mouth open and words stuck in his throat.
Her laughing was light and entertained, the same as when someone tells her a joke she finds way too funny. She had a huge smile plastered on her face the whole time, and it remained there after her laughs died down to small snickers.
“Ah, sorry, sorry,” Mabel coughed, traces of her joy still lingering on her face. “I got carried away.”
Dipper blinked. He had no idea what to say. His sister had just laughed at him after he worked up the courage to tell her this, making his insides feel like mush.
“Dipper!” A hand reached out for his shoulder again. He tried shying away, but Mabel ignored his attempts. “I promise I wasn’t laughing at you, okay? It’s just, I kind of had this, um, feeling in my gut. I don’t know how to describe it, but it got, like, weird whenever me or someone would outright call you a girl.”
Dipper looked up at that, startled. “You knew?”
Mabel shook her head. “No, I wouldn’t say that. It never crossed my mind that a girl could just be not a girl, but now,” she smiled, reaffirming Dipper in the best way she could, “it totally seems normal.”
Clenching at the comforter beneath him so hard his knuckles turned white, Dipper felt something inside him release, and a near tidal wave of happiness came out of him. Momentarily surprising Mabel, Dipper pulled her into the biggest hug he’d ever given anyone. He was breathing fast, and he was certain he felt a few tears roll down his cheeks, but he was so wrapped up in the sensation of Mabel hugging him back - just as tight - to really care.
.
Dipper and Mabel spent the next year doing a large amount of research on various topics, all revolving around the human body and gender studies. Librarians gave the twins curious looks with mildly worried faces, though the twins ignored it for the most part. They checked out book after book, doing most of their reading out in the town, away from their parents, who they knew would never approve of the readings they were doing.
Mabel would settle with calling Dipper a she around their parents and in school, but once it was just the two of them, alone and away from the prying eyes of others, she’d address him as the boy he really was. Dipper appreciated everything she did for him. With her help, he was able to find out a word for his, previously dubbed, “situation.”
Transgender.
After that revelation, Dipper strived to learn everything he could about human genders. He understood more about the human concept of gender at ten years old than most adults did, he was positive.
The twins looked into all kinds of things, even those they didn’t yet understand, but they knew they’d need more help in the subject eventually, so that’s when a unanimous decision was made between the two: they needed to tell their parents.
Sometime later, when the were well into being eleven, Dipper asked Mabel to help him out. She agreed without a moment’s hesitation.
They decided to do it at dinner, as normally as possible.
Sitting down next to Mabel, Dipper watched both his parents, reading their current expressions. Nothing seemed too bad about their moods, which was good.
“So how was your day at school, sweeties?” Their mom asked, taking a bite from her fork and smiling. Dipper looked over at Mabel, silently telling her to start. She lightly nodded back.
“It was a lot of fun, Mom! I made this really pretty drawing in art class, but I ended up spilling paint on it so it got ruined. You should’ve seen it; we could’ve put it on the fridge!” Mabel exclaimed, beaming up at their mother, who returned the smile with equal vigor.
“Oh, honey, I’m so proud!”
Mabel got ready to go on and Dipper tried to keep calm. He knew what was coming.
“Thanks! Dipper drew too, but his was pretty lame.” There it was.
Dipper discreetly watched his mother make the first reaction. She didn’t do anything major, though the telltale sign of her picking up the pronoun change was one slowly arched eyebrow. Her eyes lingered on Mabel, probably thinking the word to have been a slip of her tongue. Mabel’s face betrayed nothing as she kept smiling, purposely oblivious to their mother’s quizzical look.
Their father glanced toward their mom, some sort of silent exchange going on through their brief eye contact. His mother sighed.
“Mabel, sweetie, do you consider Dipper your...brother?”
Dipper and Mabel blinked. Well, that certainly was a weird way to put it.
Hesitantly, Mabel nodded, eyes now unsure. Their mother seemed to be calming down, going over some inner turmoil. “Dipper,” she now addressed him, lips pressed tightly together, “how long have you-”
“Since I could learn how to think for myself, Mom.” Dipper’s answer, crisp and to-the-point, startled his mother, but her expression showed no clear signs of rejection or, thankfully, disgust. She almost looked like she’d expected this. So did his father. He shifted awkwardly in his chair.
Crossing her arms, their mother frowned and gave out an exasperated air of breath. “To tell you both the truth, your father and I, we kind of always suspected something like this happening. We just,” she paused to shift her gaze onto the twins and continued, “didn’t think the revelation would come until you two were a bit older.”
A tidal wave of thoughts were swimming around in Dipper’s head. Relief and jubilation sided with confusion and doubt - he couldn’t stop the emotions from making his stomach do flips and hands shake. There was no telling what his parents might do now that this information had been revealed to them. Would they force femininity on him? Strip him of his boyish desires? Would they go so far as to use conversion therapy? He’d read about that in one of his gender studies books, and it did not sound pleasant.
Only when his sister reached out to clutch at his arm did Dipper realize tears had started falling from his watery eyes, flecking the tabletop with small droplets.
Now he was even more ashamed.
“Dipper,” Another hand touched him, wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him close. It was their mother, now bent down close to his height, her face overly concerned, as a mother’s usually was. He blinked.
“Honey, honey, it’s okay,” she spoke, voice tender and soft, a hint of laughter coming through. “I told you, we already expected, so we were pretty prepared for this, I guess you could say.”
Their father nodded from across the table. “We did a lot of research on what was possibly happening with you once you started showing permanent interests in more boy-related things. I’ll admit, at first, it was difficult to understand all of it, but we both learned a lot over time.”
Dipper felt a warm rush of happiness run through his body. He’d been accepted, not just by Mabel, but by his parents as well.
He hugged his mother back, probably tighter than necessary, but Dipper could care less. A giddy feeling of delight overtook him when his mother responded with just as much vigor to match his. Questions would come, he knew, but none of that mattered now. He wanted to live in the moment for as long as he could, embraced in the arms of people who would love him regardless of who he was.
.
A lot of talking came later.
Their mom and dad asked basic questions, like “when did you tell Mabel” and “does anyone else know,” and Dipper - with the help of his twin - did his best to answer everything, still nervous and uncertain, though he tried not to show it.
A few days passed before an unexpected question came up, courtesy of their mother. She offered, to Dipper’s complete astonishment, to take him to a therapist.
A brief moment of panic overcame him before his mother helped explain that she wanted this for him, and seeing a therapist would help him along the way. He remembered reading about that before, and he knew that was the first real step to get what he needed. After a long talk with Mabel, Dipper agreed.
He saw the therapist with his mother in a nearby city for an entire year. Their conversations were long, and Dipper would admit he had a hard time understanding a lot of what his therapist had to say, but he followed along the best he could. Unlike his previous assumptions, the therapist didn’t seem to judge him or ridicule him for being too long; he felt nice while there.
Eventually his mother signed off on some paper that gave parental consent for him to begin using a gel. He was told, by his therapist, that the gel would replace the female hormones that dominated his body with male ones, but in a mild and slow manner. Dipper eagerly started using it.
Many months went by with Dipper hoping for bigger changes rather than the small, subtle ones he’s been receiving. Back when he first got the gel he was told it wasn’t very strong, as neither his mother or the doctors wanted to risk the changes to his young body becoming too much. Dipper could understand that - he wasn’t too keen on accidently dying anyway.
By the time June came Dipper had a slightly deeper voice and a small chest, much to his delight. That was also the month their mom and dad announced that they’d be sending them both to their Grunkle Stan’s for the summer.
While their parents tried to explain their sudden actions, Dipper nearly threw a tantrum, constant worry plaguing his thoughts. He didn’t want to go. He couldn’t go. He felt safe in his hometown with his parents, who loved and supported him, even if the other kids and adults mostly avoided him. Dipper hardly even knew much about his grunkle, and the same went for Mabel. They only met him once, back when they were little, and so much had changed since then.
Mabel tried her best to console Dipper the night before they left for Gravity Falls.
.
Dipper dejectedly kicked a rock along the path he and Mabel were walking down. His old gray hat - which he insisted on bringing - covered most of his face, though Mabel could still make out the scowl regardless. She frowned, reaching out to hold her brother’s hand. Dipper didn’t object, but he didn’t return her hold either.
Their bus had dropped them off a little ways from the Mystery Shack, where their Grunkle Stan lived. They could both see the rutty old shack now, standing alone in the middle of a small field, tall and undesirable.
And very bad, Dipper thought to himself, knowing all too well that he’d basically have to start over on everything he achieved back home.
He still hated that they had to come here for the summer. His parents weren’t trying to be cruel, Dipper knew, but it sure enough seemed like they were punishing him for something. They had said they just wanted him and Mabel to get out and enjoy themselves more, since they had next to no one back home. Them coming here for the summer wasn’t going to change anything.
When Dipper put his foot down on the porch of the Mystery Shack he almost shuddered. Mabel was the one who went up to the door, knocking on it lightly with a big smile on her face, because she was a happy girl by default and wanted Dipper to find some comfort in her attitude.
A minute of silence went by before Mabel reached out to knock again, but in that moment the door suddenly flung open and Mabel and Dipper drew back, startled, eyes wide and staring at the tall old man in front of them, who was dressed in an oddly fancy suit and looking back at them with a similar expression.
“Huh, I almost forgot you guys were coming,” the man said, scratching at his forehead and giving them a once-over before shrugging. He turned around and walked back inside. Dipper and Mabel blinked at each other before taking that as an invitation in.
Dipper looked around, finding the weird trinkets and other miscellaneous objects interesting, if a bit questionable. Mabel was more audible with her thoughts.
“Wow! Oh my gosh, Dipper, did you see that? What about this?” She went around, pointing and prodding at things she probably shouldn’t without really caring. Their grunkle kept walking in front of them, absently gesturing for them to follow. Dipper dragged his sister along.
They were brought upstairs to an attic that faintly resembled a bedroom. Dipper looked around, not seeing much aside from two beds and some drawers.
Their grunkle coughed awkwardly beside them, bringing a clenched hand up to his mouth to muffle it. “I didn’t really have any other place in here for you two, so I guessed this would be good enough.”
Mabel flung herself onto one of the beds, laughing at the way it bounced and creaked. “Sleeping in an attic is gonna be great!” she announced, burying her face into the pillow and rolling around. Grunkle Stan raised an eyebrow at Mabel’s behavior and looked toward Dipper, probably wanting him to say something about Mabel’s actions. Dipper quickly tried avoiding his grunkle’s eyes and walked over to the remaining vacant bed, setting down his suitcase without a word.
He relaxed slightly when he heard the older man leave. It was just him and Mabel now, no one else there to disturb their peace.
“Dipper?” Mabel had stopped her excited behavior. She was now sitting on the edge of her bed, looking over at him. He brought his eyes up to meet with her. “Are you okay?”
Dipper lifted one shoulder, not answering her question directly. How could he, when he didn’t even know himself? He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to adapt to life here for three months. Their grunkle hadn’t mentioned anything about Dipper or the thing. He briefly wondered if his even parents told their grunkle about it before shaking his head, feeling stupid. They had to have. Grunkle Stan knew about him and Mabel back when he wasn’t exactly a he, so they wouldn’t have just sent them both here without telling him about Dipper.
That aside, the man hadn’t said much to them. Dipper and Mabel had barely known him for five minutes before he left them to their own devices, alone in the attic. Any sensible person would find that a bit weird. Dipper definitely did.
Mabel didn’t try to talk to him for the rest of the day. Dipper was kind of glad for that; he needed time to himself to think.
.
He was startled awake later that evening. The image of the setting sun he could see outside of the attic window momentarily confused him. He slept the entire day? Mabel was sitting across from him, shaking the side of the bed roughly.
“Dipper! Are you awake yet? Grunkle Stan said he has dinner ready!” she exclaimed, beginning to jump in place. “I think it’s pancakes! I mean, I know it’s dinner and all, but pancakes! Pancakes! I know you don’t wanna miss this, right?” Mabel’s beaming suddenly lost its light, her expression taking on a more solemn look. Dipper’s dazed thoughts took focus on his sister.
“Unless you’d really rather not, bro.” Her words were quiet, and Dipper knew she was doing her best to be accommodating to his anxiety over the new atmosphere of the shack. She was willing to do whatever he was comfortable with. Dipper could never ask for a better sister than Mabel; she was so sweet and cared more for him than anyone else he probably knew.
But he shouldn’t keep holding her back. Mabel couldn’t enjoy her life as much as she wanted to, not with him and his constant worry. Why wasn’t he normal? Why couldn’t he do things for his sister that showed how much he appreciated her?
Dipper loosely gripped the penguin sweater Mabel was wearing, looking down at the soft material because it was too hard for him to meet her eyes. “No! I mean, Mabel, I- I really don’t want you to have to do this.” There it is, out in the open. He can’t keep pretending this is okay.
He jumps slightly when Mabel’s hand touches his own. He glances up. She looks bewildered. “Do what, Dipper?” she iterates slowly, carefully, like at any moment he’ll bolt out of the room. She’s probably not far from the truth.
He sighs. “Just. This,” he gestures vaguely with his hand around the expanse of the room, “Sacrificing whatever you want for...me, I guess.”
The room is quiet and Dipper shifts on the bed, wondering if he should have let the conversation take this turn. Mabel is going to get angry because now she knows that Dipper realizes how limiting he is for her life and he holds his worth higher than her own, and even though that isn’t true it may as well be for how selfish he’s been over the years. The doubt, once constricting vines against the window of his mind, begins to break through, its thorns ripping into the hope he’s fought so hard to maintain. Dipper feels as though he is cracking, and at any moment he is going to fall into pieces.
His breathing is fast, too fast. Is he breathing? He can’t tell. Mabel’s moving near him, touching him, talking about something he can’t hear. Can he? Her voice is muffled, distant. His face feels hot. He notices she’s pushing him back, forcing him to lean against the pillows. The pressure is nice.
It takes him a few minutes to gather himself. He still feels like he might be drowning, but there’s no water rushing down his throat and cutting off his air. Mabel is perched by his side, concern not covered up by a smile. She looks pensive.
“Dipper,” her voice is low, probably to keep him from panicking again as she continues their conversation, “is...is that what you think? That you're some kind of burden to me?”
Dipper doesn’t bother masking his nod. Now Mabel looks even more upset.
“You’re my brother! I could never think that way of you!” her sudden exclamation alarms Dipper. He thinks she’s directing her anger towards him before he sees the barely contained tears in the corners of her eyes. “I would do anything for you, don’t you understand that? I love you and nothing can change that!”
The words ring true in Dipper’s ears and he feels tears prick similarly in his eyes. “Mabel, I know you think you have to-”
“I don’t think I have to do anything, Dipper!” she cuts him off, scowling. “I may be your sister, but I can make choices for myself, and being there for you is always my number one priority! It doesn’t matter to me if that gets in the way of other stuff, because that just means that you’re more important than everything else I could be doing!” Her words are more genuine than anything Dipper has ever heard in his life. He catches a hiccup in his throat.
“T-thank you,” he says lamely, but that’s enough for his sister. Mabel envelopes him in a hug, squishing his face into the fluff of her sweater. He clutches her back, relishing in the warmth of the embrace.
They both draw back after a few moments and Mabel shoots him a beam. “Now, you wanna stay up here or go get pancakes?”
Dipper knows nothing will get better if he doesn’t try. He gets up. Mabel takes his hand and leads his down the stairs, keeping herself one step ahead. The smell of sweet syrup greets them both when they enter the rundown kitchen. Their grunkle stands near the stove, plating a stack of newly made pancakes. He glances at the twins.
“I, uh, wasn’t sure if you two were coming. I’m not much of a cook,” he admits, eyeing a plate off to the side. Dipper notices it’s full of the burnt, misshapen rejects. “But, well, your parents mentioned something about Dipper liking pancakes?”
It’s spoken as more of a question than a statement, a hesitant look appearing in their grunkle’s eyes. Dipper nods in confirmation. Stan immediately relaxes.
“Great. Well, eat up. I didn’t go through all this ‘baking’ crap for nothing.” He sets the plates down on the table and gives the twins a quick look. “And don’t expect this kind of treatment on a daily basis. I’m a man with needs of my own.”
Dipper watches as Stan takes his own seat and stabs a fork into his pancake. He glances at Mabel. She looks back.
He smiles.