A/N: Hello, hello! So some of you may know this and some of you may not, but about two years ago back in 2014 I wrote a one-shot based around the little Pines Twins called "The Art of Creativity". Now, in 2016, I decided I would give rewriting it under a new name a shot to see how much my writing skills have improved! If you haven't read the original, that's fine, and I wouldn't encourage you to read it unless you really want to. I'm going to keep it here for a big longer so people become aware of this newer version, but eventually, I am going to delete it. Maybe not from my laptop, but definitely from here. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy this slightly different rewrite if you've read the original, and if this is completely brand new to you, I hope you enjoy it as well!

I also got a Tumblr about two weeks ago under the name thescarletscribe! If you really enjoy my work go ahead and give me a follow, I'm posting my writing there too now!

Five-year old Dipper Pines currently found himself in quite a predicament.

His pudgy hands alternated from clutching the sides of the plastic chair he was sitting on to tugging fretfully at his shirt collar while his sister drew across from him, her attention completely glued to the notebook in her lap. Every few seconds her head would fly up and her eyes would dart to a certain feature on his face before they flew back down to the paper, and with each minute that ticked by his anxiety skyrocketed higher and higher.

Despite his more timid nature, getting him to stay in one spot was a near impossible feat. Mabel was exactly the same way, but in a different light. She was a bouncing wool-clad ball of energy, the living embodiment of yarn and sparkles and glitter and school glue all done up into three-and-a-half feet and forty pounds of…well, Mabel. She could never be instructed to sit still without wanting to do the exact opposite – get up, swing her legs back and forth, make noise, wave her arms, ask questions. There wasn't any bad intention behind it, no, it was an innocent action – just something brought upon by being such a bright young child.

Dipper, however, had a much different reason for not being able to sit still.

Whereas his sister was merely curious, he fretted. Fretted about simple things, things like being watched, things like being attacked or startled (they were all real excuses, he constantly defended whenever anyone questioned him about it). There was no telling when someone could decide to jump out at him and catch him by surprise, and it had him constantly on the watch (Mabel was usually the culprit, maybe that was why he had such a big problem with it). It made him feel more than vulnerable, not to mention he had important five-year old things to do, like catching up on his Sibling Brothers Junior books.

In the present, he gulped down the lump in his throat and placed a hand on his seat, neck craning to see around his sister's bulky notepad. "Mabel?"

The girl tore her eyes away from her work and glanced up at him, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. "For the last time, what is it, Dipper?"

"Are you almost done yet?"

"Ugghhhh," she groaned, throwing her stubby hands out. She blew a ferocious raspberry at her twin and scowled, a look that was surprisingly threatening on her cute, pudgy face. Dipper's hopes of being done with this whole ordeal were crushed as she began to blow up like a firecracker, wildly kicking her legs and flailing her arms.

"No, no, no, I told you, arting takes time!" She motioned down at her drawing with her blue crayon, tapping it three times in quick succession. "Just sit still for a little while longer, I'm almost done drawing your face!"

The boy sighed and squirmed a bit, the feeling of being imprisoned growing stronger and stronger by the second. In an attempt to distract himself he proceeded to pick at a Band-Aid on his knee, his mind wandering back to the day he had gotten it. He had fallen down on the sidewalk while he and Mabel were running around outside days before, and while his mother was applying medicine to the scrape, his sister was making goofy faces for him and cracking jokes to help him feel better and stop shaking.

A small grunt caught the boy's attention, and he looked up from the sore to see Mabel pulling the notepad closer to her face and squinting at it with such intensity he was surprised it wasn't burning away beneath her very gaze. The pink tip of her tongue poked out from the corner of her mouth as she glanced back and forth between him and the paper more fervently, scribbling away at such a rapid pace that Dipper imagined her hand blurring with the speed.

"What do you call this again?" he randomly asked.

"Portrait," Mabel answered without looking up. "Like those things Mommy and Daddy have hanging up in the living room."

Dipper blinked. "You mean like that picture of the old guy with the orange nose next to Dad on the wall?"

"Yeah," Mabel said, still passionately scrawling. "I forgot his name, but one thing's for sure: he has a lot of ear hair."

Things grew relatively silent yet again, save for the incessant scritch of the crayon and Mabel's soft hums. For around the umpteenth time Dipper fidgeted in his seat, finding an uncomfortableness in the air he couldn't quite put his finger on. Longing rushed in his veins with each agonizing minute that passed by – it took all he had in him not to jump up out of his seat and snatch the notepad from her hands.

"Are you almost done now, Mabel?"

The girl in question put her finger up, motioning for him to be silent. "Have patience, Dip-Dip." The tip of tongue protruding from her mouth wiggled for a second and she gave one last broad stroke before, like a rocket, she burst up from her seat, the notepad and crayon clutched tightly in her palms.

Dipper jumped up in his chair at her sudden burst, a small yelp of surprise escaping him. "W-what?"

Mabel smiled, clearing her throat before making a dramatic backwards turn and hunching over her newest creation. "Introducing…" she boomed loudly, "the reveal that's gonna put all reveals to shame…what my impatient bro-bro won't stop bugging me about…"

Dipper was so excited that he didn't even retort to her cheeky comment. He scooted closer to the edge of the seat, every fiber of his being urgently anticipating the artwork's exposure.

"…the portrait that's going to completely smash all other portraits…"

He was literally bouncing in his Velcro sneakers by now, fists clenched in front of him and face alight with anticipation. He couldn't wait to see his sister's drawing! It had to have been good if it took her as long as it did. Impatience began to consume him faster than excitement, though, as he realized his sister was stalling for dramatic effect. "What, Mabel, what?" he asked a bit too forcefully.

She visibly wilted for a moment, but remained with her back to him. "Okay, okay, fine. Ruin my intro, why don't you? What a grumpy-grump…"

Finally, the girl flipped around, nearly knocking her brother over in his seat with her abruptness. She whooped loudly and thrust the drawing in his face with a cheery, "Ta-da, feast your eyeballs on this!"

Well, Dipper didn't really have a choice in seeing it or not; every inch of the paper was quite literally shoved in his face, washing his entire vision in white. It immediately had him fumbling around for Mabel's arms, and after gently pushing them back he finally had a good look at the drawing. However, after staring at it for a few seconds, the bright expression on his face quickly turned to one of puzzlement. He continued gazing at it, eyebrows scrunching together and head tiling inquisitively to the right as he struggled to comprehend the simple illustration.

"See? Doesn't it look exactly like you?" Mabel was positively giddy, her face flushed pink with elation. "I think I really got the shape of your head right, it's like…it's like a big peanut, y'know?"

"Uhhh…" Dipper struggled to speak. "Yeah, it's, it's—"

"I knew I was gifted! Aren't I just an amazing artiste?" Mabel chattered on, her voice lilting on the last word. She twirled around so that her long hair spun with her before clarifying, "That's French toast, I think." She stopped for a moment to gauge her brother's reaction, but her smile instantly faded when she realized he was quite literally frozen in his seat.

"Dipper?"

At the sound of his name the boy shook his head and looked up at her. "Huh?"

Mabel looked like a lightning bolt had suddenly struck her. "Did…didja like my drawing?" she asked. Her voice began to wobble and within seconds her eyes were growing glassy with tears. "It…it's not bad, is it? Oh, it was my first real drawing. It…"

"Oh no…" Dipper murmured. He knew all too well what was coming next. Immediately, he threw his arms out in front of him in a desperate attempt to stop the flow of tears down his sister's cheeks. "Of course I like it, Mabel!" He took another glance at the drawing and swallowed – he couldn't bear to see her crumple with the weight of feeling like she had failed, especially with how fascinated she seemed to be with the drawing. And she had put a lot of effort into it, it was better than anything he could draw…

"It's not bad at all, I was just kind of speechless at how good it was," Dipper rambled on, eyes flitting between her and the paper, "and I just…please don't cry, Mabel. It makes me really sad when you cry."

He waited with baited breath for a reaction, any kind of reaction from her. The girl's lower lip trembled and she sniffled loudly, but to his immense relief the tears seemed to be staying away.

"You…you really do like it?"

Dipper nodded sincerely. "Are you kidding? Of course I do!"

Mabel immediately beamed at his assertion, and it was enough to make him grin again. He watched, fascinated as she jumped up and down and squealed in absolute delight. "Ooh, I'm just so glad you think so! Thank you thank you thank you!" She threw herself at her brother, nearly knocking over his chair in the process, and wrapped her arms around him in the tightest hug her five-year old self could give.

It was surprisingly very tight, and Dipper wheezed as all the breath was squeezed out of him, his hands scrabbling at the back of her sweater. "Ughh…Mabel…I can't...breathe…"

Mabel pulled away and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry! Oh, and that reminds me, I gotta go show this to Mommy and Daddy!" She shot him another giant grin before skipping out of the room with the drawing clutched tightly to her chest. "Thank you so much, Dipper!"

The boy looked down at his feet for a moment, his blood running warm and his cheeks slowly growing pink. "Yeah…anytime, Mabel."

…

"Take a seat here please, Mister Dippingsauce."

"Okay…" Dipper did as his sister requested and took a seat on his creaky bed, arms crossed over his chest. Evening sunlight streamed in through the attic's triangle-shaped window, casting an isosceles crest on the floorboards. "I'm kind of afraid…do you have something weird planned?" he asked. "I feel like you have something weird planned. Are Candy and Grenda going to pop out and try to give me a makeover or something? Are you and Grunkle Stan ganging up on me to—"

Mabel shot down his thought before he could even finish it. "No, Dipper, don't worry. It's not any of that. I just want you to sit there and stay still, okay?"

His brow rose as he watched her prance over to her side of the room and bend to rummage around next to her bed. An assortment of items immediately came flying at him as she scavenged through her belongings – stuffed animals, sweaters, art supplies – and he clumsily dodged every one with a series of increasingly loud yelps. "Hey, be careful over there!"

"Aha!" Mabel exclaimed. She reached into something - her jewel-encrusted duffel bag, Dipper noticed - and soon enough withdrew a beat-up looking notepad and a pencil.

"What are you…?"

Dipper watched curiously as his sister bounded onto her bed, landing in a heap on her side as its springs rasped in disapproval. "Oh, shut up, bed," she mumbled. She immediately sat up and smoothed her hair away from her face before readjusting herself, grasping the notepad in her left hand and the pencil in her right before fixing him with an intense stare.

"Why…why are you staring at me like that, Mabel?" Dipper asked, his body moving backward on its own accord. "Not gonna lie, it's kiiiiiinda creeping me out."

She exhaled and pulled back from her intensive stare to address him. "I'm conducting an art project on you, and in order for me to do so, you have to stay still," she explained, tapping the end of the pencil against her temple. "You can sit still, right?"

"I…" Something suddenly clicked within Dipper, something old and oddly familiar. His face lit up with remembrance and a sly smile quickly took over his features. "Yeah, I can try…but that's not going to stop me from asking you when you're gonna be done every two minutes."

"Stay still, I'm trying to art!" Mabel sternly instructed, but eventually she couldn't hold back the turmoil of hearty giggles that threatened to spill from her throat. "Haha, I'm sorry, Dipper, I just can't…" She placed a hand over her mouth to keep her laughs at bay, but it proved to fail and she fell back onto the bed.

Dipper smiled and stood up to join his sister, and a few shuffles of his feet later he was collapsing down right next to her and chuckling as well. The action only made her laugh harder, and soon enough they were both laughing in unison – deep, hearty laughs, laughs that bubbled up from deep within their cores, laughs they couldn't break from no matter how hard they tried. They remained that way for minutes, chuckling until their faces were flushed red, until Dipper finally found the voice to speak.

"Wow…that seemed like such a long time ago. I still can't believe you remembered it, Mabel," he exclaimed, propping himself up to face her.

"Well how couldn't I?" She lifted the notepad up and opened it, flipping through its hundreds of doodle-filled pages, each one holding a little something important. After a few seconds she finally reached her destination and pulled out the aforementioned page, staring at it with half-lidded eyes. "Man, I was an amazing artist even back then…"

The two stared at the slightly crinkled paper, lost in a wave of old memories. A very crudely drawn illustration of a stick figure donning two lazy eyes (and surprisingly no mouth) with thin limbs and a very wobbly-looking physique stared back at them, unblinking. To top it all off, at the bottom of the paper was Dipper's name written in shaky child's handwriting, spelled: "Dipr".

Mabel turned to face him. "Haha, yep, I was definitely a great artist back then. No ifs, ands, or buts about it."

"Heh, yeah, you were definitely something…" Dipper muttered under his breath, earning him a jab in the side. "Hey! Kidding! I was kidding!"

"Don't deny it, I was amazing, bro-bro." The two were silent once again as they relished in nostalgia. "You know, your praise really helped me."

"Huh?" Dipper sat up to face her, eyebrow arching up. "How so?"

"Well…" She looked away for a moment and grabbed a strand of her hair, twirling it around her index finger as she considered what to say. "If it wasn't for you being so supportive of my drawing, then I'm not sure what would have happened in the long run. You know, with my art and junk."

"Woah…really?" Dipper said, incredulous.

"Yeah…I probably would've given up right then and there," Mabel said, sounding shocked by her own words. "And, you know, not be the amazing person I am today and all."

"You would have quit…just because of what I thought?" Dipper was speechless for a moment, any and all words dying on his tongue. He couldn't think of a single thing to say in response that would equal the amount of depth her words held, so instead he flopped back down and listened intently as Mabel continued on.

"Well, kinda. I mean, there was a reason I chose to draw you out of all the other things I could have instead. Like a duck or something," she said. "You just seemed like the easiest to draw for some reason. It was like some magic-y force told me you were the one, and I decided to just go with it, you know?"

"Heh." Dipper's lips quirked up in a grin. "I guess you could say I was kind of like…your destiny."

"Well I wouldn't say my destiny," Mabel said playfully, rolling her eyes. "But really though…you were a huge inspiration to me back then. You were like, my first drawing ever. And it holds a really special place in my heart, and if you hadn't of liked it then I probably wouldn't have kept continuing."

"Wow, Mabel," Dipper said, his voice softer this time, more serious. "That's really deep. Especially coming from the girl who hallucinated on illegal candy and claimed that giant wiener dogs were coming to abduct us just at the beginning of the summer."

"They were! I saw them! They were fifty feet tall and wore these big top hats and monocles and there was a dolphin with two heads and four arms that shot rainbows and – anyway, yeah. I know what I said was sappy, I know. But it's true." Mabel slumped back down again, and the two laid side-by-side as silence once more took over, taking comfort in the beams of sunlight still shining in through the window.

"You know what, Dipper?" she said suddenly.

"Yeah?"

"I could probably try drawing Grunkle Stan and it would turn out amazing."

He snorted. "Yeah, if you paid him to. I doubt he'd do it otherwise."

"I don't know, bro. I'm preeeeety adorable," Mabel said, pressing both her hands to her rosy cheeks. "My puppy dog eyes could make an actual puppy melt into a puddle on the ground just from the sheer adorableness I possess. Plus, even though he denies it, Grunkle Stan has a huge soft for me. I don't think it'd be hard to convince him."

Dipper yawned and closed his eyes, making himself more comfortable on the bed. "I'm not going to argue with you on that only because I'm tired. I say you should totally go for it, but maybe do it tomorrow."

"Fine. And Dipper?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks for always believing in me."

Dipper's eyes shot open despite himself, and he looked over to see Mabel smiling at him, really smiling at him, braces and all. The metal sparkled like diamonds in the light, most definitely not comparing to how brightly her eyes shone at him. It caused something warm and raw to swell up in his chest, and he didn't hesitate in the slightest to respond.

The next words out of his mouth were quite possibly the truest words he had ever spoken, firmer than any statement or promise he had ever made in his short twelve-year life.

"Of course, Mabel. That's never gonna change, and you know that."