#You better not have been beating up nerds in high school Ford :
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Stargate Atlantis | Hot Zone 1.13
Nerds getting revenge on a Jock
#sga#stargate atlantis#radek zelenka#rodney mckay#david nykl#david hewlett#You better not have been beating up nerds in high school Ford :/#if so#totally deserved#Radek Zelenka & Rodney McKay#Radek Zelenka/Rodney Mckay#LOOK#THEIR ARMS ARE TOUCHING#AHHHHHH#I love them so much#HAPPY RADEK DAY#sga gif#stargate gif#mygif#twotalesgifs
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Just a Normal Day
A short drabble about sea grunks having an average adventure, written in honor of their birthday.
Even before they got attacked by the Cthulhu beast, it had been a pretty average morning on the sea for the Pines twins.
Wake up at the crack of dawn (Ford) or closer to late morning (Stan); eat breakfast; reset the spell to ward off the vengeful leprechauns who might still be after them for stealing their treasure in case they’d figured out they were chasing a decoy trail by now; do a little late morning fishing, while keeping an eye out for that golden fish Stan was sure he’d seen swimming under their boat last week, and which he was hoping laid golden fish eggs or something; finally notice what time it was (Stan) and head inside to make lunch.
Just another normal day.
Stan was examining their supplies, trying to decide if it was worth breaking out some of the canned hamburger meat and throwing together sloppy Joes instead of making them eat fish again, when he was knocked skiwampus by the boat being yanked to a halt; as he struggled to regain his balance by grabbing onto the table, a vicious, blood-curdling roar came rumbling through the air from outside.
Stan sighed, and wondered if the kraken was back. In one swift motion he grabbed the spare harpoon they had hanging over the door, and stepped out to see if Ford needed help dealing with it.
It wasn’t the kraken.
It still looked like some kinda big octopus monster, though, with a mass of writhing tentacles where its face should be, and a bulbous head in the back just like an octopus body. The rest of it, at least as far as the torso, was kinda like a human’s but a little bigger (about the size of a baby whale), with slimy-looking green-brown skin and a pair of big, wrinkled, wet wings sticking out of its back. Whatever this thing was, it had grabbed onto the back of their boat, and was looming menacingly over Ford as Stan stepped outside.
“...and you are now my prisoners!” he bellowed, as his piercing golden eyes landed on Stan. “Surrender your weapons now, puny mortals, and I might be merciful!!!!”
“Yeesh, did we trespass on his territory or something?” Stan asked, leaning on the harpoon.
Ford shrugged with one shoulder, since he was trying to write in his journal at the same time. “He didn’t really say; he just jumped onboard and started threatening me.”
“Huh.” Stan looked up at the beast. “You the lord of this part of the ocean or whatever?”
The beast blinked-which looked pretty weird, his eyelids went sideways instead of up and down like humans-before nodding vigorously. “Yes! I am the lord of this part of the ocean, and you must surrender to me now, or else suffer my wrath!!!!” He slammed a fist down against the side of the boat, making it rock up and down so hard he had to scrabble to keep his balance. Stan coughed into his fist to hold back a snicker.
Ford tilted his head. “I could have sworn this was still the primary territory of the Manatee-Merfolk Alliance. Are you sure you haven’t made some kind of mistake?”
“What part of prisoners did you not understand?!” the beast demanded, spreading out his wings and shaking them as his tentacles writhed angrily. “Give up your weapons, now-all of them!!!!”
“...You sure you want that? It’s kind of gonna take awhile-”
“NOW, or I crush your boat in my mighty fist!!!!”
Stan glanced at Ford, who rolled his eyes and nodded. With a small sigh, they began disarming themselves.
********
...A minute passed and they were still at it.
Ford’s pile of weapons was almost as tall as he was, mostly consisting of long-range weapons like guns, but with a few vials of poisons and some handcuffs thrown into the mix.
Stan’s pile was more proportionate, but the number of places that weapons were produced from (including a smoke bomb that he’d somehow managed to keep tucked under his beanie) was frighteningly impressive.
The monster watched their progress with increasingly wide eyes; finally, as Stan produced another set of brass knuckles out of a secret pocket sewn onto the inside of his coat, he spluttered, “...Where were you keeping those?”
Stan just grinned shamelessly. “Trust me, sunshine, you don’t wanna know.”
“Okay, I think that’s everything,” Ford said at last, indicating the pile of weaponry.
“Yeah, well, I’m still workin’, gimme a minute.” Stan produced a switchblade, and tossed it onto his pile. Then, in a brief sleight of hand, he snatched another one from the pile and pretended to draw it out of his coat to toss it on next. “Hey, tentacles-face-ya think you could bring us back by Wednesday? We got a Zoom appointment ta keep, and our niece and nephew hate it when we’re late.” Another sleight of hand allowed him to scoop up another weapon.
“That’s not how this-now see here!” The monster drew himself up to his full height, nearly falling backwards off the boat. “You guys-you puny mortals are my prisoners! And as such, you need to understand that this is not a joking matter! I could squash you both like sea slugs if I wished! I’m all-powerful, an eons-old abomination whose very name would send you into madness if spoken aloud! So you better start quaking in fear and begging for mercy like proper captives!!!!”
Stan looked at Ford. “Sounds like we’re his first.” He looked back at the monster. “You’re doin’ great, buddy-good job on the whole threatening schtick.” He offered a thumbs-up, while using the other hand to snag another weapon that he pretended to produce from another hiding spot.
Ford winked at him, and looked back at their ‘captor.’ “Is this some sort of coming-of-age ritual for your species?” He produced his journal again, pen poised. “Very clever move, by the way, threatening our boat to get us to disarm ourselves. In the future, though, I would suggest that you try taking one of us hostage first, in order to create maximum-”
“STOP IT!”
The monster abruptly started pounding his fists against the side of the boat, nearly tipping it over before instead pitching him all the way onto the deck. “YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE THIS! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO-I’M YOUR-IT’S NOT FAIR-!”
It took Stan a moment to realize that the angry noises leaving his mouth (?) were accompanied by the sound of frustrated sobs.
He hissed through his teeth, and shot Ford a guilty look.
“...Oh boy. Looks like we got a little one here.”
********
Stan crossed the boat and crouched down in front of the weeping monster, putting a hand on his back and rubbing the spot right between his wings.
“Deep breaths, in and out. You’re not gonna get anything done like this, so just take a bit ta calm down, okay?”
The monster hiccuped and coughed, shrinking in on himself in a way that was painfully familiar to both of them.
Ford knelt down at his other side. “Maybe if you tell us why this is so important to you, we can provide some assistance?”
The monster shook his head and buried his head in his arms. “I just wanted-hic-to show my friends I could catch the Pines twins all by myself,” he croaked.
The two old men looked at each other in a mixture of surprise and slight alarm. “...You know who we are?”
That was finally enough to get him to sit up, wiping his eyes with his tentacles. “You kidding? Every creature of the seas knows who you are! You’re the guys who beat up krakens and steal gold from leprechauns and then you and your boat vanish without a trace! You’re the coolest cryptids ever!”
It took both of them a moment to digest that. By the time they did, though, they were grinning in equal delight.
“We’re cryptids?!” Ford asked, eyes practically brimming over with overjoyed tears.
“Yeah! And people at school were sayin’ you’re just a myth, but I knew you were real cuz my uncle saw your ship up in the Arctic last winter, and I was gonna capture you and bring you to class to show everyone how wrong they were and then I’d be famous and they’d stop calling me a weird runt all the time!” After a second his wings drooped, and he stared miserably down at the deck. “...Guess it was pretty dumb of me to think I could catch you all by myself.”
Stan put a hand on his shoulder. “...Kid...as much as we wanna help, we can’t just be your prisoners. We got our own lives ta get back to.”
“Plus, neither of us is able to breathe underwater,” Ford added.
The monster sighed, and pulled a strip of kelp from around his neck, turning one of the leaves until it was facing him. He squirted a stream of black ink from one of his tentacles, and dipped the tip of another one into the ink and used it to trace something that looked like a bunch of gobbledygook to Stan onto the leaf. “Humans...don’t...breathe...underwater.”
Awww...he’s a super nerd, just like Ford and Dipper!
That gave Stan an idea.
“Hey.” He nudged the monster. “What about a picture of us instead? Along with genuine proof of a close encounter?”
The monster’s head jerked up. “A picture?! Like with one of those weird magic boxes you humans carry around sometimes?!”
“That’s the one.” Stan grinned. He looked at Ford and jerked his head towards the cabin; his brother took the hint and headed for it, returning with an antique Polaroid camera that Ford had been experimenting on, but still took good pictures.
The monster’s tentacles began writhing around his face like they’d come to life, and he let out a high-pitched squeal of excitement.
“This is the greatest day of my life!!!!”
********
It took a bit of staging and directing and trying out different angles, but eventually they produced a set of photos that appeared to be of an eldritch abomination in training being attacked by, and bravely fighting off, the ferocious monster hunter Pines twins (hopefully nobody would think to ask how and why the monster had managed to get these pictures taken).
Then, while Stan took them into the cabin and soaked them in a special substance Ford had invented that would render them waterproof, Ford sat on the prow next to the young cryptid enthusiast and offered tips on future hunting adventures, comparing notes with him on some of the creatures they’d both seen. He also (with permission) took a few samples from the monster, including a long strip of skin (“Make it look like a wound I got in the fight! Man, this is gonna be so cool, Yog-Sothoth is gonna eat his heart out! Possibly literally!”) and some of the ink from his tentacles.
When Stan came back with the photos, he also handed over one of his spare brass knuckles that had lost a corner. “Have another souvenir, kid.”
The monster’s tentacles lashed out and wrapped around their faces in what felt like a really weird version of a hug before pulling away, leaving them covered in some of the slimy stuff they were coated in.
“Thank you so much! I really really hope the leprechauns don’t catch you-if they come this way I’ll make sure to eat some of them so they won’t!” He waved at them joyfully as he dived back into the ocean and disappeared.
********
After a moment Stan wiped his face on his coat sleeve.
“...Well, that happened.”
He turned away and began gathering up his weapons.
“Such a strange mixture of childlike innocence and barbarity,” Ford mused as he pulled out a jar and gathered the slime into it for yet another sample. “His culture must be fascinating-I almost wish he would have taken us with him so I could have seen it.”
“You would’ve drowned before you could gather any data.”
“...You don’t know that.”
“He literally didn’t know that humans can’t breathe underwater, Sixer. Not gonna happen.”
He ignored Ford’s sulking and kept cleaning, while musing to himself over the possible monetary opportunities being a couple of cryptids could bring...
#gravity falls#sea grunks#stan pines#ford pines#cthulhu doesn't stand a chance#stan just adopting everyone#humor#and fluff (sort of)#drabble ish
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Breakfast and Catch-up (Theme: Love/Bonding)
It’s time for @stanuary week 1! Love/bonding. have some classic Fiddstan Set in the mystery Trio au!
(also on ao3!)
Stanley looked up from the stove in time to see Fiddleford rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he walked into the kitchen. The engineer gave a non-committal nod as he took his seat at the kitchen table. The smell of eggs filled the air and the sizzling of bacon made Fiddleford’s stomach grumble something fierce.
“Breakfast will be ready in a couple of minutes,” Stanley said. He flipped a pancake onto a plate next to the stove.
“Well it smells divine.” Fiddleford said. His sandy blond hair was a mess that he couldn't be bothered to fix this early in the morning.
Stan reached for the coffee pot and poured out two steaming hot mugs. “How many sugars?” he asked.
“Two please.” Fiddleford rubbed the last grains of sleep from his eyes.
“Coming right up,” Stanley put in two spoons of sugar into the mug with gear pattern. He walked over to the stove and placed the mug next to a plate stacked high with pancakes, with a side of bacon and eggs. Stanley set the plate and mug in front of fiddleford. He pecked Fiddleford’s forehead before making his own breakfast.
“How’d you sleep Fiddlenerd?” Stanley asked. He took a seat opposite Fiddleford.
“Refreshing,” Fiddleford got to work at his food. “You really outdid yourself this time darling.”
Stanley beamed. He started up with his own meal. It had been quite a while since he was able to sit down and enjoy a meal without having to worry about some magical beast bursting through the window and declaring war against them for stepping on some ancient flower of ultimate power or something.
He had met fiddleford a little while before Ford had called Fiddleford over for some help with some interuniversal portal or something. With nothing better to do Stan agreed to come with. Firstly to help with heavy lifting that might come up, and secondly to stare in awe at his boyfriend’s work. However meeting his estranged twin upon arriving wasn’t what he had expected. If Fiddleford hadn’t stood his ground and forced both Pines twins to talk out their issues Stanley wasn’t sure what would he would have done.
“So how did you meet the nerd?” Stanley asked after a beat. He rested his head in his hand, his elbow sitting against the table.
“We’ve been dating for how long and you’re only asking how I met my boss and got my job now?” Fiddleford raised his eyebrow.
“We’ve been busy,” Stanley replied. “What with the whole ‘making up for ruining his chance at his dream school’ and that goblin attack.”
“Gremloblin,” Fiddleford corrected.
“Yeah, that. Now back to the question, how did you meet my brother?” Stanley pressed.
“If you must know, we were roommates in college.” Fiddleford said. He took a sip of his coffee, making sure not to meet Stan’s eye.
“Roommates eh? Did you two ‘study’ together? What did you ‘study’? Nerdomics? Klingon? “ Stanley waited for Fiddleford to be halfway through his gulp of coffee before making his next assumption. “Biology?”
Fiddleford spat out his coffee. “Stanley Pines! Just what in the lord’s name are you insinuating?”
“What? My brother studies fairies and trolls, he’s obviously have to study how bodies and stuff work.” Stanley blinked innocently. He’d have to clean up that coffee stain from the floor but the look on Fiddleford face was worth it.
“Right-right. Well, not necessarily. I didn’t study biology myself, but Stanford did need some help with his studies and assignments. And if’n I was able to help I would,” Fiddleford recalled. “And in turn he’d help me out with my engineering studies.”
“A bit of ‘I scratch your back you scratch mine?’” Stanley smirked.
“If you call staying up until 3 am for three nights in a row ‘scratching his back’ then yes.” Fiddleford rolled his eyes.
“I don’t know, that sounds pretty productive if you ask me.” Stan smirked.
“If you’re trying to ask if your brother and I were in a relationship you can just say it,” Fiddleford said flatly.
“Aw, but I wanted to tease you more,” Stanley pouted. He took a sip of his coffee.
“Your dancing around the bush was about as subtle as a baseball bat to the face,” Fiddleford said. “And It’s way too early to be dealing with any of that.” He took a very quick sip of his coffee. He didn’t want a repeat of earlier.
“Fine fine, so that's how you scratched his back, how’d he pay you back?” Stanley asked. “From what I’ve heard, your dorms were terrible in winter. Did you two find an ‘economical’ way to stay warm?”
“Ya got me once Stanley, it ain’t happening again.” Fiddleford said. “And let me answer your question with a question, do you ever wonder why your brother always wears long sleeved shirts?”
“Because he somehow thought that Carl Sagan was a Fashion pioneer instead of the nerd he really was?” Stanley asked.
“For someone who claims to enjoy having fun you sure do like to suck the fun out other people, you know that?” Fiddleford asked.
“Oh, I’m well aware.” Stanley smirked. “But because I’m nice I’ll take the bait. Why does Ford wear long sleeved shirts all the time?”
“I don’t feel like telling you anymore.” Fiddleford look away childishly.
“Oh c’mon, don’t be like that,” Stanley said. He walked over to Fiddleford’s side to coddle him. “You know I was just kidding, right?”
“Well i don’t want an inattentive audience when i’m telling my stories,” Fiddleford turned his head away and crossed his arms.
“Come on Fiddlesticks, I really mean it,” Stanley took the seat next to Fiddleford. “I promise I‘ll listen this time.”
“Your words are as empty as your stomach, Stanley Pines,” Fiddleford said dramatically. He stared Stanley down, but was thrown off by his boyfriend’s grin. “What’s so funny, Mr. Heckler?”
“Empty as my stomach eh?” Stanley asked. He nodded to his empty plate of pancakes. “You sure about that one?”
“That doesn’t prove anything. You’d put the the bottomless hole we have outside to shame,” FIddleford said.
“It’s a gift,” Stanley beamed.
“At least I don’t have to worry about throwing away food scraps anymore,” Fiddleford said.
“So, you were going to tell me a story about my brother hiding something with shirts?” Stan asked.
“I’m not sure if I’m willing to tell you.” Fiddleford smirked.
“Hmm, maybe I could make it worth your while?” Stanley asked.
“Stanley, are you suggesting a bribe?” Fiddleford asked in mock shock.
“I think I might have something to fit the bill,” Stanley grinned. He leaned forward and kissed Fiddleford’s cheek. The engineer giggled as the scruff on Stan’s chin tickled him.
“You were right.” Fiddleford said. He scooted his chair closer so that he could lean against stan’s chest. “That definitely fit the bill.”
“So can I hear the story or not?” Stanley asked after a beat. Fiddleford gotten half way through his pancakes and hadn’t said a word.
Fiddleford took another bite of his pancakes.
“What are you waiting for a kiss on the cheek?” Stan asked.
“Another one wouldn’t hurt,” Fiddleford grinned.
“You set me up,” Stan frowned.
“And they said it’s impossible to out-con a conman,” Fiddleford smirked. Stanley rolled his eyes before kissing fiddleford’s cheek.
“Happy?”
“Very,” Fiddleford grinned.
Fiddleford finished off his breakfast before diving into his tale.
“I was low on parts for my engineering major, and my deadline was breathing down my back,” he began. “Your brother had helped me test out the prototypes but those… didn’t turn out too well.”
“Did they explode?” Stanley asked.
“Not in any way that would be entertaining. Half the time they just started to smoke and we’d have to get the fire extinguisher.” Fiddleford said. “Anyway, we got wind that the science department were planning on throwing out some equipment. And that stuff just happened to have the parts I needed. So Stanford and I got suited up, you should have seen your brother, he got a black sweater and beanie for the occasion.”
“You’re saying that as if you didn’t have a mask and a striped black and white shirt as well.” Stanley accused.
“I thought it would have been appropriate to dress to fit the occasion,” Fiddleford said. “As I was saying, we made our way to the science building in the dead of night. It was so dark we couldn’t see our hands in front of our faces. Stanford was saying something about anti-theft lights that made everything hard to see. Turns out we were just in the shadow of the building.”
“Ha! He would think that.” Stanley said smugly.
“Well we walked into the building.” Fiddleford said.
“You just walked in? No security? No security guards? No cameras?” Stan asked.
“Our college advertised ‘roach free dormitories’.” Fiddleford scowled. “This was granted by handing out a free can of insect spray on our first day.”
“Sounds like my kind of place.” Stanley smirked.
“Let’s just say they probably didn’t have the budget for any kind of serious security detail.” FIddleford said. “A I was saying, we walked in, no problem. In fact the equipment was right by the door in the hallway.”
“Sounds too convenient,” Stanley said.
“It was a stroke of luck!” Fiddleford said, pretending that he hadn’t heard Stan’s comment. “But lo and behold the night guard was on his patrol.”
“I thought you said there weren’t any guards,” Stan squinted.
“To be fair, in hindsight they were probably a janitor. But I’m the storyteller here and I decide the roles.” Fiddleford resumed. “Stanford was panicking but didn’t know squat about what parts I needed, so I had him to hold the flashlight for me while I quickly pulled the equipment apart for what I needed. And just as I got the last part free we heard the nightguard walking close by. So using our brilliant minds we dove behind the equipment just in time to avoid their spotlight.”
“Stanford was that daring? Now I wish I was there to see that.” Stanley smirked.
“Just as we heard them walked past; we made our way to sneak past the nightguard. Unfortunately Stanford, the old butterfingers that he was, dropped his flashlight.” He waved his arms as he spoke. “And to make things worse, the parts in my bag had leaked oil on to the floor. His flashlight cracked on the ground and was covered in oil. And when he turned it back on KABLOOEY! It blew up, setting his black sweater on fire and burning his arms terribly.”
“Ha! That’s rich.” Stanley wiped a tear from his eye while slamming his hand on the table. “Fidds you’re a riot,” he said between chuckles.
“And he’s been hiding his arms in shame ever since,” Fiddleford said.
After he finally caught his breath Stanley clapped Fiddleford on the shoulder. “Fidds, that was amazing. But one problem.”
“What’s that?” Fiddleford asked.
“We both saw Stanford with his sleeves rolled up,” Stanley said. “And if memory served we both teased him for having such smooth arms that pixies could use them as a slide.”
“Well I never said it was a true story,” Fiddleford pouted.
The tipped Stanley over the edge. He erupted into laughter once more. He kicked the ground and slammed his fist on to the table, knocking the utensils around in his hysterics. His barking laugh filled the air, Fiddleford himself couldn’t stop himself from joining in. And in a few short minutes the pair had fallen off their seats.
“That was a good laugh.” Stanley said.
“I needed that,” Fiddleford coughed. He wiped away a tear.
“My little Fiddlesticks out conned me. Twice! I’m so proud.” Stanley said. He placed his hand on his heart. “I think that deserves a reward.”
“My my, what have you got in mind?” Fiddleford smirked. He crawled over so that he was sitting on Stan’s lap.
“There’s that sci-fi flick that came out a while ago. We could go check out together,” Stanley offered.
“I thought you hated sci-fi,” Fiddleford said.
“It’s also a horror flick. I’ll get to have you cuddle up to me when the big monster jumps out,” Stanley said with a smirk.
“After the hunts that Stanford’s had us go through? I doubt some goo-covered rubber costume will get my goat,” Fiddleford said.
“Wanna bet?” Stanley asked.
“Who ever screams first has to be the winner dinner,” Fiddleford declared. He offered his hand to Stan.
“You’re on McGucket,” Stanley shook fiddleford’s hand. “I hope you’re not too attached to your wallet.”
“We’ll See Stanley, we’ll see,” Fiddleford smiled.
#Gravity falls#Grunkle stan#Stanley Pines#fiddleford mgucket#old Man Mcgucket#Fiddlestan#fiddstan#My writing#stanuary
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The Newcrest Titans secured a strong win versus the Windenburg Falcons, 104-90. Rhys was the Titans leading scorer with 27 points, 12 rebounds, and 4 assists. His best friend, Orlando, finished the game with 20 points, 6 rebounds, and 6 assists. The team now sat with a record of 12 wins and 0 losses, making them first place in their division and conference. With only 4 games left on the season, they were the talk around town as the favorite to win the championship. Following the game, Coach Amador lectured his guys on remaining poised during the season.
Coach Amador: “Fellas, great team win tonight. Everyone brought their A game and it showed! I asked for us to be humble and we did. Thank You. Now I know its a Friday night, however please head straight to your dorms and stay in. I do not want any of our players running the streets. We’ll have practice bright and early tomorrow at 7am. Do not be late.”
“Yes Coach!” The team proclaimed in unison.
****(music)****
Walking through the hall with his Beats headphones blasting Rexx Life Raj, Rhys was in an upbeat mood following his good game and team’s win. It was always a great night after defeating the opposition so easily like his squad had done a few hours ago. Had it been a lost, his mood would be the complete opposite. Replaying his points scored, and coach’s advice in his head, he spots Orlando and Emmett in the hallway.
Rhys (in his head): Why are they both wearing our team jackets?
Orlando: “So that’s why we should just step bro.”
Emmett: “I don’t know man, coach said it’s lock down tonight.”
Orlando: “Ahh, come on! Don’t be a L seven on me tonight.” He said as he noticed Rhys coming down the hall. “Aye, yo Rhys!”
Rhys: “What’s up ya’ll. You two dating now or something? What’s up with the matching attire?” He asked with a chuckle.
Emmett: “This genius is up to another one of his master plans.” He said fingering quotations as he said master plans.
Rhys: “Oh yeah, what is it this time fam?”
Orlando: “Glad you asked.” He said with a smirk. “Join us, tonight we’re going to a penthouse party in San My.”
Rhys: “What?! Fool you’re crazy. San My is a solid hour, hour and a half away. Besides, coach said it’s lock down tonight.”
Emmett: “See, that’s what I said!”
Orlando: “Ya’ll some squares all of a sudden? Look, we just destroyed Windenburg, and its Friday night. Live a little fellas. Besides, we’ll be back in time for practice, so it doesn’t matter. Let’s go! The more time we spend standing here, the less time we got in the city.”
Emmett followed Orlando’s lead while Rhys stood in the hallway contemplating his best friend’s words. He knew it was absolutely not the brightest idea to go to the city after his coach ordered the team to stay put in their dorms, however he definitely didn’t want word getting around that he was some nerd or square dude who passed up on lit parties in the city. Rhys took a deep breath, as if it were his last, and proceeded to his dorm to change his attire.
****(music)****
It took the guys exactly 45 minutes to get to San My. Emmett drove a 2014 Ford Mustang and showed off his GTS engine, going on average 92 miles per hour the entire way there. It was shocking not a single cop noticed the speeds in which Emmett raced down the highway. Rhys was exuberant to be out of the car, as he felt he might not make it to the city alive. Orlando on the other hand loved it. He always was one to enjoy adrenaline rushes and living life on the edge. He blasted hip-hop music the whole ride, yelling every lyric like the songs were written by him. It reminded Rhys how he became friends with Orlando in the first place. He, simply put, just didn’t give a fuck about anything or anyone. Rhys often wished he had that kind of spirit, however his best friend gave him the balance he was desiring in that.
Once inside the penthouse the guys made their way downstairs to the party. It was a large pool area with dark lighting and scenic views of the city lights. Neither of them had ever seen the city this close and personal before. They instantly felt like kings. As they headed in the direction of the DJ booth they found a couch area and decided to park it there. They didn’t know everyone in the party, so this spot was perfect for viewing and keeping a look out on the entire place.
Orlando: “We made it fellas, and those ladies twerking over there look DTF.”
The guys laugh at Orlando’s comical statement while observing his description. Two young girls were in fact twerking away to the beats of the infamous DJ Onix. He was a regular throughout nightclubs in San My, so seeing him at this private party definitely made the guys feel like royalty.
All through the night folks were having a good time. There was no drama, no mess, and no party goers got sloppy or wasted drunk. Rhys was enjoying his time with his crew, forgetting all about how they snuck out of their dorms against their coach’s word, when his eyes noticed a familiar face.
Emmett: “You got to admit my pass to you cutting to the basket was sweet. I put that thang right in the perfect place for your dunk though!” He said with excitement, reliving the moment with jubilation in his voice.
Orlando: “Hell yeah you did! It made Widenburg’s coach call a timeout and chew his guys out.” They laughed at the memory and noticed Rhys wasn’t chiming in.
Emmett: “Ain’t that right, Rhys?” He said nudging his pal.
Rhys: “Huh? Uh, yeah. Yup, fo’ sho!” He forced a response and chuckled.
Orlando: “Man, he don’t know what we’re talking about. Rhys, who got you shook bro?” He said laughing.
Emmett made eye contact with Rhys and followed his eyes. Once he knew what Rhys was looking at, he took control.
Emmett: “Aye, yo, Sage!”
Rhys: “Bro, what you doin?!? He asked surprised and somewhat irritated.
Emmett: “Chill, I got you bro.” He replied with a smirk.
Rhys: “Nah bro, for real, you don’t need to do this.”He was more nervous to speak to Sage than upset at Emmett for calling her over.
Sage walked over to the group of guys with a bright smile. Rhys couldn’t tell if it was the moon shining through the penthouse windows or her grin that shed a spotlight on their night. His heart skipped a few beats as he caught a quick sniff of her scent. Lavender, with a hint of shea butter and vanilla. It appeared she was keen with her appearance and health.
Emmett: “How you doin’ little sis?” He said giving her a hug.
Rhys (in his head): Little sis?! What the fuck?!
Emmett: “This is my homeboy Orlando.” He said pointing to his right. “And my good friend Rhys, I don’t think you two have ever met.” He added, with mischief in his voice.
Sage: “Hey Orlando. I heard you had 20 points tonight. Good job!”
Orlando: “Okay little sis, keeping up with the squad I see. Thank You.”
Sage smiled at the compliment and then turned to Rhys. “Hi Rhys.”She said with a calm and soothing tone. It was like music to Rhys’ ears to hear her say his name. It was definitely something he could get used to.
All Rhys could do was smile and throw up a hand to wave. Orlando had never seen his best friend so awestruck by anyone in their entire life. Not even the time they met Michael Jordan at a basketball camp their freshman year of high school.
Emmett was equally surprised and gave Rhys a quick nudge as to snap him back to reality.
Rhys: “Hey.” He was able to let out after encouragement from Emmett.
Sage: “What are you boys doing here? Does coach know about this?”She asked, knowing her brother and that most likely they snuck out.
Emmett: “Ah, don’t worry about all that. I should be asking you the same thing. What are you doing here freshman?”
Sage: “I was invited by my friend.”She said turning around and looking in her home girl’s direction. “She really wanted to come, but didn’t have a plus one.”
Emmett: “Well just be careful out here tonight, and don’t drink too much.”
Sage: “Okay, dad.” She said rolling her eyes. “Bye guys, nice to meet you.”She said locking eyes with Rhys.
He froze with her eyes locked on his. It was as if time stood still and it was just her and him. He imagined all the discussions they could have with one another if they weren’t at this party. He would ask her to dance, convince her to ditch her friend, and just converse with her all night. He wanted more of Sage, not physically, but spiritually. That’s when he knew she was the one.
Orlando: “I mean if I knew he was going to freeze up like a little school boy at the sight of your sister, I would of left his ass in Newcrest.” He said teasing Rhys.
Rhys: “Whatever fool, I heard you that time. I’m not frozen, just...She’s just...”
Emmett: “Go ‘head bro, you’ve got my blessing.” He said feeling the energy from Rhys and knowing he had nothing to worry about. He had never allowed any of his friends to talk to his baby sister, and there had been many growing up. Now she’s a young adult, and in college, so he felt it was time to release his big brother reigns and allow her to do her own thing. Besides, what better way to keep dibs on her than to allow one of his closest friends to court her?
Rhys: “You sure bro?” He said, eyes wide, and bushy tailed.
Emmett: “Yeah my man.” He replied with a smile. “She likes comedy movies and cheeseburgers. Thank me later.”
Orlando laughed at Emmett’s subtle advice. “Aye, come with me to the bar. I need a damn shot after all this cupcake talk.”
Emmett and Orlando left Rhys and walked over to the bar. Meanwhile, Sage had made her way back to Janae. Rhys noticed they were hysterically laughing about something and hoped they weren’t bagging on him and his boys. He swallowed his nervousness, slid a piece of gum into his mouth, and mustered up the courage to ask Sage for her time.
To his surprise she agreed, but took a few minutes to say goodbye to Janae first.
Sage: “I’ll text you when I’m back at the dorm. Hell, I might even just come to your room and wake you up.” She said with a grin.
Janae: “Please don’t, just text me bitch. Be safe.” She replied with spunk as she waved and walked away.
Sage and Rhys took a seat on a nearby couch and began their first one on one conversation. Rhys had waited for this moment since their first session in Business Communications.
Rhys: “This party is pretty lit, and this house, my god.”
Sage: “I know right.”She said surprised that he began their first conversation without being all cheesy or directly hitting on her. “And this view, I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Rhys: “Me....either.” He said pausing between his words as he was referring to her looks and not the skyscrapers against the city skies.
Sage: “So, how was your game tonight?” She asked, knowing how he did but not wanting to mention that on their first encounter.
Rhys: “I played well.” He replied, wondering how she knew Orlando’s stats and not his. “I had 27 points, wanted 30, but maybe next game.”
Sage: “Ooh, Mr. Big Baller I see.” She gassed him up with a smile.
The two continued their conversations for the rest of the night. They discussed his interest in basketball, along with his production on the team. They also conversed about their Business Communications class, and how easy it appeared it would be. She shared with Rhys her interest in cheeseburgers, just like Emmett said, and comedy movies. Rhys was on cloud nine in her presence and didn’t want any of it to end. Sage ended up riding back to the city with the boys. She and Rhys sat in the back seat together, but remained respectful of each other’s space. Rhys didn’t want to rush, or give her the impression he only wanted one thing. He was looking to build a true friendship, and make her his girl, forever.
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#black simmer#black simblr#poc sims#TS4#urban simmer#sims 4 stories#no expectations#gen 2#season 2#followthru4#rhys#sage
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Growing Pains
Return to the Falls, a Gravity Falls fanfiction
Dipper and Mabel return to Gravity Falls for another summer with all their old friends. But of course, nothing is ever normal for long at the Mystery Shack, and soon Dipper is forced to realize his greatest fears.
(Chapter 2 of “Return to the Falls”, a Gravity Falls fanfiction. The up-to-date entirety can be found here.)
The relative peace of the hazy afternoon was disturbed by the piercing screech of brakes as the Speedy Beaver bus rolled up to its stop. The doors opened with a hiss, releasing a burst of chilly air into the sweltering atmosphere of the woods. A single gnome poked its head over a stump to watch as the bus deposited its sole passengers: one boy, one girl, and one pig.
The boy tipped his trapper hat to the driver as he passed. “Thanks for the ride, Dale!”
“And thank you for cleaning up the pig vomit.”
The driver’s tired sarcasm was lost on the girl, who squatted down to rub the expectant pig’s stomach. “Waddles gets bus-sick,” she said, giving the pig a quick kiss on the snout.
“Don’t feed him so much corn at the rest stop next time,” Dipper said, even as Mabel took another ear from her sweater pocket and stuffed it into Waddles’s open mouth.
Mabel hopped off the final step, dropped her suitcase, and pumped both fists in the air. “Hello, Gravity Falls!” she screamed, sending a flock of birds scattering from the treetops. She spun in quick circles, beaming as wide as her cheeks could stretch, but her smile faded as she realized the clearing around the bus stop was empty. “Gotta be honest, I was expecting more of a turnout,” she said as Dipper and Waddles stepped down onto the grass beside her. The gnome waved from atop his stump and was promptly snatched up by a hawk.
“It is weird, I thought someone would be here,” Dipper said, giving a last wave to Dale as the bus doors closed. “Guess I’d better lower my expectations before I get a big head.”
“Too late,” Mabel said, snickering.
“Mabel, our heads are literally the same size.”
The bus roared to life and pulled away from the stop, drowning out their voices and masking the sound of approaching footsteps. A pair of strong arms wrapped around the twins from behind and lifted them off their feet. The instigator of the embrace was a large man, wearing a black suit, an eyepatch, and a familiar maroon fez. Only one person in the world could possibly deliver a bear hug so enveloping in its warmth.
“Soos!” the twins exclaimed.
“’Sup, dudes!” Soos said, placing the children back on the ground. “I just had to be here to meet you, I couldn’t wait any longer!”
“We’re glad to see you too, Soos,” Dipper said.
Mabel surveyed Soos with a scrutinizing eye. “I’m digging the ensemble, Soos!” she said. “The Mr. Mystery look really suits you.” She poked Soos’s stomach and he giggled.
“Thank you, Mabel! And I love your sweater,” Soos said, pointing to Mabel’s shirt. The purple sweater bore a picture of a goldfish with a sword strapped to its forehead. “It’s, like, a sword fish.” He paused. “Whoa dude, that’s, like, a pun.” Mabel tried to high-five him, but his hand missed hers entirely. “Sorry dude,” Soos said, flipping up his eyepatch and blinking several times as he adjusted to the light. “I’ve got like no depth perception with this thing.”
“So how have you been, Soos?” Dipper asked. “Is running the Mystery Shack everything you dreamed it would be?”
Soos took off his fez for a moment to fan himself. “It’s all that and more,” he said. “I really feel like I’m makin’ some magic for people, y’know?” A slight flush came to his cheeks, though it might have just been the heat of the day. “I think Mr. Pines would be proud of me.”
Mabel squeezed his hand. “I know he will be,” she said. “So where is Grunkle Stan? Got a hot date? I bet she’s beautiful.”
“Sorry, the Mr. Pineses aren’t back yet,” Soos said. "They ran into some trouble with a canal or a canary or somethin’ like that.” Dipper and Mabel’s faces fell, but Soos patted both twins on the back. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, dudes! They’ll be here real soon. For now, Melody and Wendy are waitin’ back at the Shack and they really wanna see you.”
Dipper perked up at the mention of Wendy’s name. “Well, no use standing around here all day. Let’s get going!” He pulled a small glass bottle out of his pocket and gave a few quick spritzes to his already-sweaty armpits and neck.
“Oh no, not the cologne again,” Mabel said, pinching her nose. “Dipper, we talked about this. That stuff smells like expired milk and motor oil.”
“Sorry, Mabel, but I’m maturing,” Dipper said. “And that means smelling mature, like all those buff guys in the Hatchet Body Spray commercials.” He pointed to the label on the bottle. “This is the Mega Manly Musk. Guaranteed to attract the attention of every lady that catches a whiff.”
Mabel squinted at the fine print on the label. “And moose. Do not use during mating season.”
“Whatever,” Dipper said. “You just don’t know what a real man smells like.” A passing bird dropped unconscious at his feet.
Mabel rolled her eyes. “Please don’t tell me you’re doing all this for Wendy.”
“Hey, I’m over that silly crush,“ Dipper said. “Wendy is one of my best friends! We’ve been texting for months about out all the fun stuff we’d do this summer.” He puffed out his chest. “I’m a teenager now, I can really fit in with her friends.”
“I didn’t know Wendy’s friends were all giant stinky nerds,” Mabel said, giggling. “But nah, I’m just teasin’, broski. I can’t wait to see my besties too!“
“Then let’s roll out, dudes!” Soos said. He turned and started walking toward the edge of the forest. “Just one stop first, I gotta do my business in the woods.”
Mabel glanced at Dipper in concern. “Does he mean…?”
“It’s Soos,” Dipper said. “He really might.”
The twins followed on Soos’s heels, eager to see what “business” he had in store. Mabel launched into a detailed account of her and Dipper’s grand adventures in school, starting with her rise and fall as the mighty Painted Empress of the art club. Soos listened with rapt attention, nodding along as Mabel gesticulated wildly, nearly smacking her companions with her suitcase. Waddles plodded along at a safe distance behind her, wandering off the path every few yards to sniff at a mushroom, occasionally sending an unseen critter dashing away through the underbrush.
Dipper leaned back and stared up at the emerald canopy of leaves and needles, filtered through with specks of dazzling sunlight and the bluest sky he could imagine. A woodpecker peered down at him from a low-hanging branch, tilting its head inquisitively before turning to peck at the bark. This was summer, he thought, inhaling deeply from the fresh warm air, feeling his lungs swell with the crisp sweetness of the woods. Of course, he would always think of his parents’ house in Piedmont as his home. But here among the towering ruddy pines and gangly silver birches, he knew he was right where he was meant to be. The scent of mystery and intrigue - or maybe it was just tree sap - was heavy on the breeze, carrying with it the promise of three more unforgettable months in the Weirdness Capital of the World.
“And so my reign was cut tragically short by the Great Acrylic Rebellion,” Mabel said, dramatically throwing her arms over her head. “And I learned that it is better to be loved than feared. Though Candy tells me that both is preferable.”
Soos slowed his pace as Mabel finished her story. “Sounds to me like you were a wise and just leader,” he said. He paused, examining the surrounding area until his eyes lit up with recognition. “This way, dudes,” he said, leading the twins through a short patch of undergrowth. Waddles disappeared into the mass of green, but Dipper could still hear his quiet snorts and snuffles.
A clearing opened up ahead of them, a circle of bright green grass in the midst of the uneven scattering of trees. Dipper froze. Nine months ago, he had stood here. Images flashed through his mind: Stan kneeling on the ground with a blank expression on his face, hysterical tears flowing down Mabel’s cheeks, Ford embracing his unresponsive brother. Dipper felt his heart beating faster and he wordlessly took Mabel’s hand in his own.
And across the clearing, in the shade of the pines, was Bill Cipher.
This was no memory, no vision, no mere specter. The dream demon himself sat twenty feet away, his wide unblinking eye staring back at Dipper. Here was the monster that had stricken terror into the hearts of billions across the multiverse, the harbinger of chaos that had “liberated” his home dimension with fire and brimstone. He’d laid waste to Gravity Falls, petrified the townspeople, tortured Ford, threatened Mabel. He had nearly killed Mabel.
Of course, Dipper knew that Bill was dead. Stan and Ford had made sure of that. This was only the demon’s physical body, a cold hunk of stone half-embedded in the ground, now overgrown with a few thin vines. The essence of Bill was long gone, nothing but dust on the winds of the dreamscape. But the sight of the statue was wrong, this whole place was wrong.
Dipper fought to keep his voice level. “Soos, what are we doing here?”
Soos crossed the clearing to the statue, with Mabel following a few tentative steps behind. “Just here to spruce up the exhibit,” Soos said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a spritzer bottle filled with green liquid. “Mr. Pines had the great idea to make Bill an official Mystery Shack exhibit. Figured as long as he was here, we might as well make some money off of him.”
“That does sound like Stan,” Dipper said, rolling his eyes.
“So I started running the ‘Meet Mr. Triangle Man Mystery Tour,’” Soos said. “People pay ten dollars to come out here and see him. And then another fifteen to shake his hand. And an extra twenty-five for a souvenir photo.” He patted the top of Bill’s hat. “So I’ve been coming out here to spray the weeds and vines that grow on him. Gotta keep him looking presentable.”
“It is a good use for the isosceles jerk,” Mabel said.
Dipper glanced between Soos and Mabel in disbelief. “Does no one here see a problem with standing around the body of the trillion year old monster that nearly destroyed our dimension? Let alone bringing naive tourists straight to it? This is Bill we’re talking about, who knows what kind of backup plans or booby traps he might have left for us.” His breaths came shorter and faster, uncontrolled.
Soos looked to Mabel for a moment, but she simply shrugged. He kneeled down in front of Dipper. “It’s okay, dude,” he said softly. “I know you’re worried, and like, you’ve got reason to be. Ford was against this too, but he did some sciencey tests and he says that Bill is gone for good. He wouldn’t let us do this if it wasn’t safe.”
Dipper took a few deep breaths, closing his eyes as he steadied himself. He knew that Ford would never have approved if he thought there was any danger at all. But Ford had been fooled by Bill before, and so had Mabel, and Dipper himself, and countless others. Was being rid of the demon really this simple? In the months since Bill’s defeat, Dipper had kept himself from thinking about the demon too much, but now he wondered just how permanent their solution had been. After all, Stan’s memories had resurfaced over time. Was it unreasonable to believe that Bill might as well?
With one more slow exhalation, he opened his eyes and nodded solemnly at Soos. “Okay. I believe you guys.” He looked the statue up and down, reminded of the occasional little triangles he’d found himself doodling on the edges of his notebook in class. “I’m just glad to know that Bill’s doing more good for our family now than he ever did in life.”
“You can say that again,” Soos said, giving a few final squirts of weed killer to the vines on the statue. “If he keeps bringing in money at this rate, I might finally be able to afford my dream body.” He pulled a picture out of his pocket and held it down to Dipper and Mabel. It was an image of a tiger with flaming wings drawn on its back in marker. A photo cutout of Soos’s smiling face was pasted over its head. “Anyways, let’s go,” he said, putting both the photo and the spray bottle back in his pocket. “We’ve got a lotta fun stuff to do back at the Shack!” He hoisted Mabel up onto his shoulders and she cheered aloud, with Waddles oinking in response behind them. He led the way toward a trail on the other side of the clearing, marked with a wooden sign which read “Pay Your Bill Bill at the Mystery Shack” in streaked red paint.
Dipper hesitated and looked back at the statue, feeling a cold bead of sweat run down the back of his neck as he stared into the stone eye. He stumbled and fell forward, landing on his face in the grass. Groaning, he stood up and brushed away the curling green tendril that had somehow snagged his ankle. The long vine seemed to be stretching out from the statue itself, all the way across the clearing. Dipper shuddered and turned away. He’d had enough nightmare fuel for one day.
After a short walk through the woods, a familiar structure appeared beyond the trees. It was a homely hodgepodge of a cabin, probably more duct tape than wood at this point. A hook-beaked totem pole stood before it, a resolute watcher of the house. The rickety weathervane, bearing the letters W-H-A-T, creaked and spun in the wind. And atop the roof, a giant sign declared the name of the wondrous attraction for all to see. This was an icon, the crown jewel of tourist traps. Of all the hokey huts and supernatural sideshows in the Pacific Northwest, none could measure up to the rustic royalty of the Mystery Shack.
Dipper was impressed to realize that the “S” in the “Shack” sign was actually still attached; it had spent most of the last summer discarded in the dirt, having been repeatedly knocked down in various incidents. “Looks like you’ve been taking good care of the old place, Soos,” he said.
“You know it,” Soos said. “Keeping this place mostly functional takes a lot of work, but it’s nothin’ a handyman like me can’t take care of.” He broke into a wide smile as the front door swung open and a woman in a brown hat and question mark t-shirt stepped outside. “Of course, I’ve had plenty of help.”
“Nice to see you again!” Melody said, coming down the steps to greet the twins. “It sure has been a long time, hasn’t it? Soos hasn’t been able to quit talking about you for months now, we were all so excited for you to get here.”
“And we’re excited to be here!” Mabel said. “Melody, you’re really rockin’ the Soos look, I love it.”
Melody glanced down at her shirt. “What, this? It’s just my Mystery Shack uniform. Soos made it official right after he took over.”
Dipper raised an eyebrow at Soos, who merely shrugged. “Mr. Pines said he’d get confused if he walked into the gift shop and didn’t see someone wearing that shirt. Shack tradition, he called it. But we still can’t get Wendy to wear one.”
“You can have my flannel when you pry it from my cold, dead hands.”
A shadow passed overhead as a slim figure leapt from the roof of the Shack, grabbing onto a neighboring pine and sliding down the trunk, disappearing behind the gift shop entrance. A second later, a red-haired girl in a green flannel shirt rounded the building, tipping her baseball cap to the twins as she approached. “If you’re expecting a bellhop, sorry, but you’ll have to take your bags upstairs yourself.”
“Hi Wendy!” Mabel said, jumping excitedly around the older girl. “You’ve got to fill me in on everything juicy that’s happened since we left, now that we can gossip together as teenagers. It’s gotta be so much more interesting than middle school gossip, right?”
Wendy smirked. “I’ll tell you all that I know later, but I’m sure it’s nowhere near as interesting as whatever you’ve got going on back in California.” She turned to Dipper, who was wringing his hands and smiling awkwardly up at her. Without warning, she snatched the trapper hat off his head and gave his hair a quick ruffle before slamming her pine tree-emblazoned cap down in its place. “Here you go, I kept it nice and warm for you,” she said, adjusting the trapper hat back onto her own head and giving Dipper a wide grin. “Good to have you back, Dip. It’s been pretty boring around here without you.”
“Piedmont was pretty dull without you too,” Dipper said. “I tried making some new friends, but most kids don’t seem to share my taste in the paranormal.” He sighed. “One girl gets possessed by a cursed amulet in gym class and suddenly no one wants to hang out with you.”
“Well that won’t be a problem anymore,” Wendy said. “You’re in our town now, and we’re gonna have more fun than you know how to handle.” She sniffed the air and her nose wrinkled. “Maybe take a shower first, though. You smell like death.” Dipper blushed and Mabel snickered.
“First things first, dudes,” Soos said. “I need a little help around back. Can you give me a hand?” He rounded the corner past the gift shop entrance with Melody on his heels. Dipper glanced at Wendy in confusion, but she simply shrugged and followed Soos. The twins stepped around the corner, their curiosity piqued.
A chorus of cheers rang out and bursts of confetti filled the air. Dipper nearly jumped out of his skin, tumbling backwards over his suitcase. Everyone in town had gathered in the yard behind the Shack. Mayor Tyler sat on Manly Dan’s shoulders, both of them whooping and hollering. There was Lazy Susan, waving wildly, oblivious to the fact that she was spilling drops of scalding coffee from her mug onto Shandra Jimenez and Bud Gleeful. Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Durland ran through the crowd, waving flags and blowing noisemakers. Soos’s grandmother sat on the porch, watching the others with a small smile on her wrinkled face. Gompers bleated a greeting to Waddles, who snorted in response. Even Toby Determined was there, clad in a sparkling red onesie and dancing with a cane.
“Sorry for the scare, dudes,” Soos said. “But we all thought a surprise party would be the best way to welcome you back!”
Mabel let out a shrill squeal and hopped up and down. “I can’t believe you’re all here!” A small figure leapt from the crowd and tackled Mabel, tumbling into a heap of limbs on the ground. A moment later, both were lifted up by a pair of burly arms, drawing them into a tight embrace. “Candy! Grenda!” All three girls spun in a circle, laughing and hugging until Grenda released the others, setting them back on their feet. “It’s so great to see you guys!” Mabel said, her whole body practically vibrating with excitement.
“We were going to meet you at the bus stop, but Soos asked us to wait,” Candy said. She held up a shredded coil of rope. “Grenda is hard to hold back.”
“I don’t have time for patience!” Grenda said. “It’s been too long since these Grenda arms gave a Grenda hug!”
“Well hang on tight,” Mabel said. “I think I feel another Mabel hug coming on!”
“The Candy hug has to recharge,” Candy said. “It is too powerful.”
Meanwhile, Dipper found himself surrounded by teenagers – fellow teenagers, he thought with a smile. “Dr. Funtimes is back in town!” Nate said, cheering as Lee hoisted Dipper up onto his shoulders. Thompson stumbled after them, trying to carry enough cups of punch for everyone. After laughing for a moment at Thompson’s frantic attempts to stay upright, Lee put Dipper back down and moved to help.
Robbie, who had been standing to the side with Tambry, feigning disinterest, finally spoke. “Hey, dork. Guess you’re gonna be hanging out with us again this summer.”
Dipper scowled. “Nice to see you too.”
Tambry glanced up from her phone. “Robbie’s been talking about you kids a lot since that whole Weirdmageddon thing. He feels special that he got to be part of the big prophecy.”
“Tambry, don’t tell him that!” Robbie said. He turned to glare at Dipper. “Look, I’m only here because Wendy and the others dragged me here. It’s not like I like you or anything, i-idiot.” He pulled his hood up over his head and slunk away, muttering under his breath while Tambry held his hand.
“What a dweeb.” A familiar girl with probably-fake-blonde hair strutted up to the twins. “Maybe I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve, but at least I’ll admit I like you.”
“Hi Pacifica!” Mabel said, pulling away from Candy and Grenda for a moment to give her a quick hug. Pacifica half-recoiled, but she fought off the instinctive reaction and reciprocated the embrace.
“I’m a little surprised to see you here,” Dipper said. “I thought the Shack was too rural for your taste.”
Pacifica shrugged. “I’ve gotten used to living around the blue collar folk. Though my parents are still struggling a bit.” On the other side of the yard, Preston and Priscilla Northwest watched with undisguised horror as the Woodpecker Guy attempted to settle a dispute between his wife and a rival blue jay.
Dipper laughed. “Seems like upper-middle class life is doing your family some good.”
“Hey, we’re lower-upper class,” Pacifica said. “We still have our dignity. And a servant who puts all our mail in that metal box outside the house.”
“That’s the mailman,” Dipper said. “He does that for everyone.”
Pacifica frowned. “So, what, are we supposed to tip him?”
Mabel opened her mouth to speak but Dipper interrupted her. “Five bucks a day ought to keep him happy,” he said. “Maybe a little higher if you want to be nice.”
Pacifica scoffed. “Please. People should be paying me to be nice.”
“Pard’n me, Pacifica, if ya could allow me a quick word with the twins.”
The voice appeared to be coming from a puffy marshmallow in a blue suit. “Heyyy Gideon,” Mabel said, flashing her braces in a too-wide smile. For once in her life, she did not seem eager to offer a hug.
“Dear Mabel, yer as beautiful as the day we last met,” Gideon said, giving a short bow that threatened to absorb Mabel into his hair. “I’ve been countin’ the days til I could see you again.” Dipper cleared his throat loudly and Gideon looked up, startled. “And ’f course I’ve missed you just ’s much, Dipper! Might I say yer also lookin’ rather dashin’ today?”
“I think we’d all be more comfortable if you didn’t,” Dipper said.
“So how have you been, Gideon?” Mabel asked.
“Pretty dang good!” Gideon said. “Folks weren’t so trustin’ ’f me at first, what with the whole ‘fake psychic’ thing, but these rubes – I mean, nice people – found it in the kindness o’ their hearts t’ forgive widdle ole me. So now I’ve reopened the Tent ‘f Telepathy and I perform my songs and dances every day.” He winked. “Season tickets are on sale now, I could give you two a hefty discount.”
“Oh gee, sorry,” Dipper said, his smile wavering. “We couldn’t possibly take advantage of your … uh, generosity.”
“That’s enough yammerin’, kids!”
Dipper jumped in surprise at the sudden appearance of a shrunken, bearded man behind him. He didn’t think he’d ever been happier to see Fiddleford Hadron McGucket. The old man winked, fully aware that he’d swooped in just in time to deflect Gideon’s attention. “We’ve got all summer to catch up!” he said, tapping his feet rhythmically. “Let’s kick this hootenanny into high gear!” He pulled a remote out of his suspenders and pressed a large red button. With a loud clanging of metal, a hatch opened in the roof of the Shack and a rickety tower of speakers and strobe lights rose up, blaring pop music and bathing the yard in swirls of bright color. The crowd roared and surged together into a dancing mob.
“Shindig in the United States, by Mona Arizona!” Mabel said. “My favorite party rock anthem!” She grabbed Dipper by the wrist and dragged him into the throng of townspeople. “Come on, Dip, dance with me!”
Dipper held back. “I don’t think so, Mabel. You know I’m not much of a dancer.”
“Oh come on, you big baby,” Pacifica said, snatching Dipper’s other hand and helping Mabel pull him forward. “If I can do it, so can you.”
“Yeah!” Grenda shouted, giving Dipper an extra shove from behind. “Embrace your inner party animal!”
Dipper held up his hands in resignation. “Alright, alright. But if any of you laugh at me, I’m locking myself in my room for the next three months.”
The party raged until long after sunset. It was midnight by the time Dipper and Mabel had unpacked and settled into their beds in the attic. In no time at all, the musty old room was restored to its former cluttered state, covered in books and clothes and stuffed animals. Mabel hopped excitedly on her bed while Dipper pinned up the last of his “supernatural investigation reports” on the bulletin board, this one detailing a recent sighting of what he suspected to be a fearsome wererabbit. Exhaling with relief, he sat down on the edge of his bed, wiping the sweat from his brow. Mabel flopped down on her back on her own bed, sighing contentedly.
“Sure is nice to be back, huh?” she said.
Dipper nodded. “It feels like we never left.”
Mabel rolled over to face him. “Too bad Grunkle Stan and Ford couldn’t make it. They’d have loved the party.”
Dipper tried to imagine Ford dancing to the greatest pop hits of the 2010s. “I’m sure they’re having plenty of fun on their own.” He slumped backwards onto his pillow and stared up at the ceiling.
“What’cha thinkin’ about, Bro-Bro?” Mabel asked.
“I dunno,” Dipper said. “Just … wondering how this summer is gonna turn out. Last year certainly went differently than I expected. In all of the best and worst ways.” He put a hand on his chest. “I don’t know if my heart can take that much stress again.”
Mabel waved a hand dismissively. “Aww, don’t worry about it. Bill’s gone, Stan and Ford have made up, and Gideon has turned over a new leaf … I think. There’s no one left to bother us but all the kooky monsters in the woods, and we know how to handle them.”
Dipper took a deep breath. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right!” Mabel said. “I’m Mabel!”
Dipper rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m pretty tired. Today was a long day.”
“A good day!” Mabel said.
“A good day,” Dipper conceded. “And tomorrow is gonna be even better.”
“That’s the spirit!” Mabel said. She clapped her hands and Waddles plodded into the room, hopping up and nosing the switch on the wall to turn off the lights before curling up at the foot of Mabel’s bed. Mabel blew a kiss in his direction. “Good pig!”
A small smile crossed Dipper’s face as he pulled up the blankets. It was the little moments like this that reminded him just how lucky he was. “Goodnight, Mabel.”
“Goodnight, Dipper!”
Dipper laid back and closed his eyes, enveloped in the comforting sound of the breeze and bugs outside the window. It took only a few seconds for the natural lullaby of the woods to lull him to sleep.
*****
“Dipper!”
Mabel. That was Mabel’s voice. He spun around, but there was nothing but whiteness in every direction.
“Dipper, help!”
An enormous shadow loomed up from the whiteness, two long lines growing up to a sharp angle at the peak.
“Please, Dipper!”
Dipper spun around. Bill towered over him, larger than life. Mabel was clutched in one giant fist, struggling to escape.
“Well well well, look who’s here!” Bill said, his voice booming in the infinite expanse around him. “Sorry, Pine Tree, but you’re too late! I’ve already got what I came for!”
“Let her go now!” Dipper growled, clenching his fists. “We beat you before, we can do it again!”
Bill laughed, the cacophonous sound ringing out from every direction at once. “Go ahead and try, kid. But right now, I’m the one holding all the chips!” He lifted Mabel high over his head, his grip tightening around her. She screamed again.
“Don’t do it, please!” Dipper said, tears brimming in his eyes. “I’ll do anything, just let her go!”
“No deals this time!” Bill said. “I’m playing for keeps!” His eye narrowed in his version of a smile. “Now it’s time for this Shooting Star to fall!” He held up his free hand. “So make a wish!”
Then he snapped his fingers and the world erupted into flames.
*****
Dipper’s eyes were still heavy with sleep when he made his way downstairs for breakfast. Though rattled by his nightmare, he had managed to get a few hours of mercifully dreamless rest. Mabel, Soos, and Abuelita were already eating when he stepped into the kitchen.
“Mornin’, dude!” Soos said. “We saved some Sooscakes for you!” He heaped a stack of pancakes onto an empty plate and pushed it across the table toward Dipper. “Stan taught me how to make 'em. I think they’re pretty good.”
Dipper sat down and took a bite, chewing unenthusiastically. Mabel eyed him with concern. “Geez, Dipper, you look awful. Was there another bat in your bed this morning?”
Dipper groaned and rubbed at his eyes. “No, just a bad dream. Nothing to worry about.”
“Don’t sweat it, bro,” Mabel said. “You can hang with me and Candy and Grenda today while we wait for Stan and Ford to get back. We’ll have so much fun you forget all about that lousy nightmare!”
Dipper gave a faint smile. “That actually sounds nice.”
“You just have to promise not to use any more of that cologne,” Mabel said. “Seriously, Soos could use that stuff to kill the weeds.”
“Come on, Mabel, I’m not even wearing it!”
“But you’ve got it in your pocket. I think it’s starting to melt through the bottle.”
Abuelita breathed in deeply. “My sense of smell, it has returned!” she said. Her nose wrinkled up. “And I wish it had not.”
Dipper crossed his arms sulkily. “Fine, but I still think you guys are exaggerating.”
Soos chuckled. “Wouldn’t it be funny if you said that and then the smoke alarm went off because the smell was so bad?” He paused for a moment, as if waiting for the sound to ring out. “Oh yeah, Mr. Pines sold all the smoke alarms years ago.”
Mabel quickly scarfed down the last of her pancakes and jumped up from her chair. “Alright, let’s get rolling! We have a full day of goofing off ahead of us!” She tapped her foot impatiently as Dipper finished eating. “And of course, there’s a good chance that our peaceful sunny afternoon will turn into some crazy mystery adventure,” she added.
Dipper swallowed his final bite and grinned. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“You dudes have fun!” Soos said. “I’ll hold the Shack together while you’re gone.” The lamp string on the ceiling suddenly snapped and the bare bulb fell, shattering in the middle of the table. Soos gave a thumbs up. “I’ll get right on that.”
*****
“And then Pacifica punched him right in the mouth! That was the last time anyone said that her roots were looking a little brown.”
“Some say his tooth stuck in her knuckle and she had it set into a ring. That is what I would have done.”
“Dang, go Pacifica! I can’t believe I missed so much!”
Dipper reclined against a tree and smiled as Mabel, Candy, and Grenda continued their banter. Weird as it might be, he found it comforting to listen to their mindless chatter again. Their voices were as much a part of the Gravity Falls ambiance as the natural sounds of the forest.
He reached into his inner vest pocket and pulled out a thick hardcover book. The cover was marked with a pine tree symbol, perfectly matching the one on his hat. He flipped through the first few pages, which consisted of some rough sketches and sparse notes on various oddities that he’d encountered or researched in California. Finally, he settled on the next blank page and began to write.
After what felt like the longest school year of my life, I am back in Gravity Falls. When I first arrived last summer, I dreaded the sleepy town that awaited me. Now I’m back, and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. The people may be a bit backwards, but they’ve become as good as family to me. And the mysteries – so many mysteries! There’s always something new for me to investigate. Maybe I’ve taken care of all the big secrets already, but I’m okay with that. Exciting as it may have been, I’d really rather not go through another Weirdmageddon. So I’m looking forward to three months of creature hunting and code cracking with all of my favorite people! Sometimes I get the feeling there’s still something huge hiding here, but whatever that might be, I know I’m ready to handle it. After all, I’m a Pines. I’ve got the best backup an adventurer could ever ask for: a family I can trust.
“I hate to be a critic, but you do realize what a cheesefest this is, right?”
Dipper yelped in surprise and fell forward, dropping his journal in the grass at his feet. A brown-bearded gnome leaned against the tree trunk, flashing his most dazzling smile. Dipper stood up, fists clenched at his sides as the girls walked over to see what was happening. “What are you doing here, Jeff?” he asked.
“Whoa whoa, I’m sensing some hostility,” Jeff said, holding his hands up defensively. “You don’t have to worry, we’ve moved on from that whole queen thing.” He glanced sideways at Grenda and his eyes widened. “But please, can someone introduce me to this bulky beauty?”
“Sorry, she’s taken,” Mabel said.
“I’m engaged to be engaged!” Grenda said.
Jeff’s face fell. “Man, a gnome can’t catch a break around here.” He straightened up. “Sorry, that’s not why I’m here. I need your help.”
Dipper narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know, you asked us for help last summer and that ended with you turning into a dark giant and trying to kill us.”
“Hehe, yeah, that Gemulet ordeal was a bit of a nasty mix-up,” Jeff said. “But I’m serious this time. Gnomes have been going missing and we can’t find out why.”
“You guys are the smallest creatures in a forest full of supernatural beasts,” Dipper said. “The answer seems pretty obvious.”
“It is true, we gnomes have many natural predators,” Jeff said. “Wolves, bears, mountain lions, large birds, small birds, protein-deficient bunnies – regardless, more gnomes have been vanishing than normal. This isn’t just the circle of life at work.” He swallowed a lump in his throat. “Shmebulock disappeared this morning.” He wiped a tear away. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m okay.”
Mabel frowned. “Dipper, this sounds legit.”
Dipper shrugged. “Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t.” He turned to Jeff. “We’ll keep an eye out for anything suspicious, but I’m not making any promises.”
“I would’ve appreciated a more enthusiastic response,” Jeff said. “But this is good enough for me.” He raised his hand in a finger gun motion at Grenda. “And if you ever decide to ditch your fella and marry a real colony of magical creatures, you know where to find us.” With one last wink, he jumped back into the bushes and disappeared into the woods.
“Well that was weird,” Mabel said.
“That’s Gravity Falls for you,” Dipper said. “Never a dull moment.” He looked down at his journal, which lay open on the first page. A thin green vine from the grass rested on the paper as if it had grown there, its tip pointing to a small pencil doodle of Bill Cipher. Dipper brushed it aside and closed the book.
“So are we going on a gnome hunt?” Mabel asked.
“Just like Easter,” Candy said. “With little bearded eggs.”
Dipper shook his head. “Not just yet. I’ve got something I want to look into first.”
“Hey dudes!” Soos waved to the group as he walked past. He was holding the spritzer bottle of weed killer. “I’m just goin’ out to spray the statue again.”
“Perfect timing,” Dipper said. “I can take care of that for you, Soos. I’m heading out in the woods anyway.”
Soos frowned. “You sure? You seemed pretty freaked out about Bill yesterday.”
“I’m fine now,” Dipper said. “It’s the least I can do for you.”
“Whatever, dude,” Soos said, shrugging and handing the bottle to Dipper.
Mabel raised an eyebrow. “Dipper, what are you up to?”
“I’m just doing a favor for Soos,” Dipper said. He paused. “And doing a bit of investigating of my own.”
“Well then count us in!” Mabel said.
“Yeah, we’re always ready to party!” Grenda said.
But Dipper waved them off. “This is the first day you guys have gotten to spend together since last summer, I don’t want to interrupt your fun already. And if Jeff comes back, you guys can be here to talk to him, or punt him into a tree, or whatever you want to do.”
Mabel nodded slowly. “Okay, just promise you won’t get in over your head, okay?”
“I promise,” Dipper said. He smiled. “You can trust me.”
“I do.”
*****
A cool breeze whispered through Dipper’s hair, a stark contrast to the hot air of the forest. The orange light of the afternoon sun enveloped the woods in a drowsy haze. Wendy trudged along behind him, twirling her trusty axe like a baton.
“You sure didn’t waste any time getting down to business,” she said. “Second day of the summer and you’re already back in the mystery-solving saddle.”
“I do want to figure out what’s happening to the gnomes,” Dipper said. “But that’s not the main reason I’m out here.”
Wendy’s expression didn’t change. “You’ve been thinking about Bill again.”
“I never did in Piedmont,” Dipper said with a sigh. “At least not beyond remembering everything that happened. But now that I saw him again, right here in the woods…” He shuddered. “It’s like he’s back inside my head.”
“And you haven’t talked to Mabel about this?”
“She’d just worry about me. This is my problem, not hers.”
Wendy raised an eyebrow. “So why’d you ask me to come?”
“Because you’ll let me do this,” Dipper said. “You’re the only person that won’t try to hold my hand through the whole thing. I want someone here with me, but I still have to do this myself, y’know?”
“I understand,” Wendy said. “No one else can face your fears for you.” They walked in silence for a minute before she spoke again. “You know that applies to Mabel too.”
Dipper furrowed his brow in confusion. “What do you mean? Mabel’s fine.”
“She’s got as much reason to be scared of Bill as anyone,” Wendy said. “She’s the one he tricked to kick off the apocalypse. Are you gonna tell me she doesn’t think about that? That she doesn’t sometimes wake up in the middle of the night after a dream where everything didn’t turn out okay?” She grimaced. “I do.”
Dipper’s face fell. “She’s never said anything about it.”
“Have you ever asked?”
Dipper opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. Wendy put a hand on his shoulder. “We both know Mabel,” she said. “She’ll still be bouncing off the walls no matter what’s going on in her head. But I bet there’s a lot you two could talk through together.”
“I don’t want to bog her down with my worries,” Dipper said.
“And she’s probably thinking the same with you,” Wendy said. “And even if she isn’t, she’s your twin! You two wouldn’t have survived last summer if you couldn’t trust each other.”
Dipper sighed. “You’re right, like usual. I’ll talk to Mabel … later.” He stopped in his tracks. “But I’m still doing this myself.”
The clearing opened up before him. Bill’s statue faced him, its outstretched hand beckoning him forward. The growth of vines had thickened since the previous afternoon, to Dipper’s surprise. Larger green tendrils climbed up the face of the statue, snaking around its arm and hat. Soos would probably need more than basic weed killer to handle this problem.
Dipper took a deep breath. “Alright. I’m going to … talk to Bill, I guess.”
Wendy brandished her axe in both hands. “And if he talks back, I’ll come chop that stupid hat right off his head.”
Dipper stepped out into the clearing, forcing himself to keep moving as he approached the statue. Its eye stared blankly ahead, but the feeling that it was watching him still unnerved Dipper. He stopped a few feet in front of the statue and glanced back at Wendy, who gave him an encouraging grin. Steeling himself, he turned back to Bill.
“So, uh, Bill,” Dipper said. His cheeks flushed. Somehow he hadn’t thought talking to a statue would feel this ridiculous. “You, uh, you’re looking crummy. Those vines can’t be very comfortable.” He frowned. “But hey, you’re the one who tried destroying the town and killing my family. So you deserve what you got.”
There was no reply from the statue. Of course not, Dipper chided himself. His voice grew more confident as he continued. “I’m just here because Soos needs you looking spick and span,” he said. “You’re doing some good for our family now, how weird is that? Mabel was right, this really is the best use for you.” He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a bottle, giving the statue a quick spritz. A couple vines immediately began to shrivel. “Wow, this stuff works fast – oh.” Dipper looked at the object in his hand and groaned. It wasn’t the weed killer, but his Hatchet Body Spray. He could hear Wendy’s barely-stifled laughter behind him. “Ha ha, very funny,” he said. He put the cologne back in his pocket and pulled out the actual weed killer, spraying around the statue until he was satisfied he’d covered it all.
He stepped back and surveyed the statue up and down one more time. “You really had me going, Bill,” he said. “I heard about the gnomes disappearing and immediately wondered if it was you.” His face fell. “The thought that you might still be able to hurt anyone scared me so much. I had to make sure that it wouldn’t happen again.” He straightened up. “But you’re gone. I guess I just needed to come see you again to convince myself.” He reached out and grasped the statue’s extended hand. “Goodbye, Bill. And good riddance.”
Dipper released the statue’s hand, and the vine on its arm uncoiled. In one rapid movement, it wrapped itself around Dipper’s wrist, locking his hand firmly in place against Bill’s. Dipper looked down at the slender vine gripping him and his whole body went numb. The bottle of weed killer dropped from his free hand, its top popping off as it hit the ground. Dipper turned to the statue itself, but nothing had changed. Its unblinking eye stared back at him, lifeless as ever, while the spilled liquid soaked into the earth at its base.
Metal screeched off stone as Wendy brought down the head of her axe on Bill’s arm. The severed vine fell away, lying motionless in the grass at her feet. Wendy pulled Dipper away from the statue, putting herself between him and Bill. A ripple ran through the vines and they lifted away from the surface of the stone, their tips angling directly at Dipper and Wendy.
Wendy kept her gaze trained on the vines as she spoke. “Dipper? What’s going on?”
“It’s him,” Dipper said, barely able to conjure breath for a whisper.
“Are you sure?” Wendy said, a faintly detectable trace of fear in her voice. “These woods are weird, maybe they’re just scary monster vines.”
Dipper shook his head. “You saw how it happened. It has to be him.”
“Then what do we do?”
Dipper’s heartbeat pounded in his ears. Whatever logical reasoning he might have had abandoned him. Only one solution seemed viable.
“Run.”
Neither he nor Wendy hesitated as they turned and bolted from the clearing. Behind them, the vines exploded outward from the statue and an unearthly shriek split the quiet of the evening. Birds, squirrels, and deer scattered through the underbrush, fleeing the source of the horrible sound.
Dipper looked over his shoulder and immediately wished he hadn’t. Dozens of green tendrils snaked along the path behind him, reaching ever closer. He screamed as one snapped at his heels, brushing over the back of his leg, only for it to be cut down by the blade of Wendy’s axe. She twirled the weapon frantically, cutting down any vine that drew too close. Despite his mortal terror, Dipper couldn’t help but admire her work.
“Wendy?”
“I know, dude. I’m the coolest person you know.”
“You don’t have to be smug about it.”
They kept running, Wendy fighting off the plants all the way. Dipper noted that the vines weren’t as numerous as they had been just a minute earlier and fewer grew close enough to be cut down by Wendy’s swings. Just as she sliced through the last visible vine, the Mystery Shack appeared through the trees ahead.
“Wendy, we made it!” Dipper burst into the open and turned back to the woods, breaking out in a relieved smile. Wendy stepped out behind him, breathing heavily. “That was a close one,” Dipper said. “Are you –”
Wendy’s legs were yanked out from under her and she fell face first into the grass, her axe slipping from her fingers and embedding itself head-first in the ground. Screaming, she clawed at the ground, the vines around her ankles pulling her back toward the trees. Dipper froze, watching helplessly as she struggled against the plants, before instinct took over. He charged, letting out a yell that was half fear and half anger. Before he could even comprehend his own action, he lifted the discarded axe in both hands, grunting from the effort as he brought it down hard, chopping away both vines in one swipe. Wendy leapt back to her feet and grabbed Dipper by the wrist, backpedaling away from the forest with Dipper in tow. For a long moment, they waited, tensed in anticipation, but no more vines emerged to pursue them. Sighing, they turned back to the Shack.
Dipper handed the axe to Wendy, smiling sheepishly. “I guess we’re even now,” he said.
“Seriously? I killed like twenty of those vines while we were running. We’re not even close to even.”
Soos stepped onto the porch, whistling to himself until he noticed Dipper and Wendy approaching. “Perfect timing, dudes! Melody and Abuelita went to Greasy’s Diner while I was closing up, you wanna join them with me? Dinner’s on the Soos tonight!” He paused, noticing Dipper and Wendy’s torn clothes and disheveled hair. “Whoa, you look rough. Did you guys, like, roll back home? I used to do that, but these suits are way harder to patch up.”
Wendy pushed Soos back inside and Dipper closed the door behind them. “Sorry, Soos, but we’ve got trouble,” Dipper said. “Bill trouble.”
“No worries, dudes,” Soos said. “Mr. Pines taught me how to make all the bills disappear.” He lifted the edge of the rug with his foot, revealing a stack of dusty envelopes underneath.
“No, it’s Bill Cipher,” Dipper said. “I went to the statue and the vines, they –”
“Guys, come look at this!” Mabel’s voice called from the living room. “Vines are attacking the town!”
“Whoa, hold on, Dipper,” Soos said. “This sounds serious. You can finish your story later.” Dipper pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation as he followed Soos and Wendy.
Mabel sat on the edge of the armchair with Waddles at her side, her eyes glued to the TV screen as the others entered the room. Shandra Jimenez stood in Greasy’s Diner, which was filled with terrified townspeople. “Breaking news, Gravity Falls is under attack by paranormal forces once again,” she said, her voice and expression stoic. Behind her, Manly Dan and the Corduroy boys cowered under a table while Melody tried to coerce Abuelita away from her unfinished dinner. “A horde of giant vines has appeared throughout the town, attacking people and structures indiscriminately,” Shandra continued. “Mayor Tyler has ordered that all citizens remain indoors and stay away from windows to alleviate risk that the vines will, and I quote, ‘git ‘em.’” Something crashed offscreen and the camera panned to the doorway, where Lazy Susan was beating away vines with a flaming broom. Sandra stepped back into the camera frame, ignoring the battle in the background. “If the town is still standing, we’ll be back at 10 for your nightly news. I’m Shandra Jimenez, and I am going to hide in the bathroom. Back to you, Toby.”
The feed abruptly cut back to the studio, where Toby Determined was sitting on top of his desk, eating a meatball sub in his underwear. The “on the air” light flashed red and he jolted in surprise, falling backward into his seat and dropping his sandwich on the desk. He stared wide-eyed at the camera and cleared his throat. “As a reporter to the people, I know how important it is to remain professional during these trying times,” he said, wiping away a smudge of marinara sauce from the corner of his mouth. Without warning, a vine smashed through the studio wall, grabbed Toby, and pulled him offscreen.
Mabel turned to Dipper and Wendy. “What the heck did you guys do to make all the vines go cuckoo bananas?”
“My dad told me that someday the plants would come for revenge against us lumber folk,” Wendy said. “I didn’t think he meant it this literally.” On the TV, a second vine peeked up over the anchors’ desk and snatched Toby’s abandoned sandwich.
“It’s Bill,” Dipper said. “I don’t know how or why, but all this is coming from him.”
Mabel’s eyes widened. “But Ford said he was gone. He and Stan beat him for good.”
“Obviously they were wrong,” Dipper said.
“I wish they were here now,” Soos said. “Maybe I can be Mr. Mystery, but I don’t think I can beat a demon.”
“We should wait for them to get back,” Dipper said. “Ford will know what to do.”
“That could take days!” Mabel said. “Those vines are going to hurt everyone in town!”
Wendy put a hand on Dipper’s shoulder. “She’s right,” she said. “All of our friends and family are in trouble.” She lifted her axe. “I say we remind Bill why he doesn’t mess with Gravity Falls.”
“There’s all kinds of pointy metal lawn stuff in the closet,” Soos said.
“Perfect!” Mabel said. She ran to the closet and came back with a handful of threatening looking garden tools, dropping them in a pile on the floor in the middle of the group. “Arm yourselves, everybody! We’ve got a weed to pull!”
Dipper nibbled at his fingernail as Mabel and Soos sorted through the heap of potential weapons. “Guys, maybe we should work out a plan first. If we’re going to have any chance of fighting Bill, then we need to know what we’re doing.” His words came faster, so quick he could barely keep track of what he was saying. “I mean, I know we can beat him, we did it before, but, how – I’m not sure – we have to have a plan. Right?”
Soos and Wendy exchanged glances, but neither seemed willing to answer. Mabel took a deep breath before speaking. “Dipper, I know this is really scary, but we –”
A loud bang rattled the Shack, shaking the floor itself. Waddles squealed in fear and dashed out of the room. Dipper swallowed nervously. “So, uh, what are the odds that our old magical unicorn barrier still works?” As if in response, a sickening crunch of wood resounded from the gift shop. Dipper peered around the corner just as the first vine crept in through the splintered remains of the door. “Okay, forget what I said, we need to leave!”
Soos opened the back door and peeked outside. “No vines back here, dudes,” he said. “We can make a run for the golf cart and get out of here.”
Dipper reached into the tool pile and grabbed a shovel, as reasonable a weapon as he thought he could manage. Mabel lifted a weedwhacker in both hands and revved the motor experimentally. She pursed her lips and nodded in satisfaction.
“Get to the cart!” Wendy said, waving the twins through the back door just before the vines slithered into the living room. “Come on, Soos, let’s go!”
Soos glared at the vines. “Go with Dipper and Mabel,” he said. “I’ll hold them off.”
“Soos, we’re not leaving you!” Wendy protested.
“I said go!” Soos said, brandishing a rake toward the vines. “I’m Mr. Mystery. It’s my duty to protect the Shack and the kids!”
Wendy hesitated, but nodded in acknowledgement and stepped out onto the porch. “Stay safe, Mr. Mystery.”
The vines reared up like snakes, looming over Soos, but he stood his ground, keeping himself between them and the door. He slammed the rake handle-first on the floor and unleashed a battle cry to shake the very heavens. “You shall not pass!”
Dipper and Mabel piled onto the golf cart seat as Wendy gunned the engine. “Hang on tight,” she said. “We’re taking this fight to Bill.”
A large cluster of vines withdrew from the Shack, clutching Soos tightly in their coils. “Oh no, they passed!” he yelled as he disappeared into the forest.
“And I guess we’re saving Soos too,” Wendy added. She pressed the pedal to the floor and the cart shot into motion, spinning in a tight curve and smashing through the underbrush. The cart swerved onto the dirt path and careened through the woods, nearly tossing Dipper and Mabel out of their seats.
“So, uh, do we actually have any kind of plan?” Dipper asked. A vine lashed at them from the right side, but Mabel cut it down with the weedwhacker.
“Get to Bill,” Wendy said. “We can wing it from there.”
“Okay, cool,” Dipper said, trying and failing to force a smile. He yelped as more vines snapped at the cart. Mabel whooped excitedly as she swung the weedwhacker in wide arcs.
“Dipper, watch our back,” Wendy said. “Don’t let anything catch us from behind.”
“R-right,” Dipper said. He leaned over the back of the seat, holding his shovel defensively in his shaking hands. Immediately, a vine grabbed the shovel and ripped it away from him, nearly pulling him out with it.
“New idea,” Wendy said. She turned and hopped over the seat to stand on the back of the cart. “Take the wheel. I’ll fight.”
Dipper scrambled for the wheel while Wendy whirled her axe at the approaching vines. “I don’t like this,” Mabel said, eyeing Dipper skeptically. “Bad things happen when you drive the golf cart.”
“Bad things happen when anyone drives the golf cart,” Dipper countered. “Clearly the cart is the problem.”
The cart lurched as it hit a root and Wendy tumbled back into the seat. “Stop insulting the cart, Dipper!” Mabel said. “It doesn’t like that!”
Dipper rolled his eyes. “Mabel, I don’t think the cart cares if I –”
A particularly large vine snagged one of the back poles of the roof. Everyone screamed as the cart veered sideways, tearing through the vine but losing all traction. Dipper fought to correct the cart’s trajectory, but it spun out of his control, crashing through the trees and bushes before flipping onto its side.
Wendy groaned, standing up from the wreckage and pulling the twins out with her. “Just once, I’d like to have a highspeed chase in this cart that doesn’t end in a wreck,” Dipper said, adjusting his hat.
“Heads up,” Wendy said. “We’re here.”
For the second time that evening, Dipper found himself face to face with Bill Cipher. The statue still rested in the same spot across the clearing, with newer, larger plants erupting from the ground around it. More vines lingered at the edges of the tree line, rising and falling softy in unison, as though they were a single huge, breathing organism.
“Hey, dudes!”
Dipper, Mabel, and Wendy looked straight up at the sound of the voice. High above, suspended in a virtual cocoon of closely-wound vines, Soos’s smiling face peered down at them. Numerous smaller green clumps hung around him, some of which were visibly wriggling.
“Don’t worry, Soos!” Mabel called. “We’ll have you down faster than you can say ‘photosynthesis!’” She and Wendy stood back to back with Dipper between them, carefully watching the vines surrounding them.
“Down is not where I want to be right now, dudes,” Soos said.
As soon as the words left his mouth, the earth began to rumble, nearly knocking Dipper off his feet. An ominous growl rose on the air, seeming to emanate from Bill himself. Behind the statue, a monstrous green bulb emerged, towering over Dipper, Mabel, and Wendy. With a disgusting wet smack, the bulb split open, revealing a gaping maw full of toothy spines. Though it didn’t have eyes, Dipper was sure that he was locked firmly in its sights.
“It’s a giant flytrap!” he said. “It must be where all the vines are coming from.”
The flytrap’s head lurched forward, dripping a long stream of clear liquid onto the grass below. “Uh, is it drooling?” Mabel asked.
“I think it’s just digestive enzymes,” Dipper said. He frowned. “So, yeah, I guess it basically is drooling.”
“That was definitely not here before,” Wendy said. “Where did it come from?”
“Maybe Bill possessed it and turned it into some kind of demon plant,” Dipper said. “If sock puppets can be possessed, then why not plants too? Especially plants with mouths.”
“I’d rather possess a flower,” Soos called. “Nobody suspects a flower.”
“None of that matters,” Wendy said. “Right now we just need to take out that head.”
Dipper glanced around anxiously. “There are two problems with that. One, there are still angry vines completely surrounding us. And two, that flytrap is probably going to take a bite out of anyone who gets close.”
“I’ve got the same answer to both problems,” Wendy said, raising her axe over her head. “Cut them all down!”
She charged, with Mabel right on her tail, waving her weedwhacker manically. Dozens of vines lunged toward them, whipping and weaving around to avoid the girls’ attacks. Dipper searched the broken golf cart for anything he could use as a weapon, but found nothing suitable. He had to help Mabel and Wendy, but how could he?
“Dipper! Snap out of it!”
Mabel dashed in front of him, slashing through a vine directly in front of his face. “Get it together, bro! We need your help!”
“I want to help!” Dipper said, his voice cracking. “But I can’t! I can’t fight Bill!”
Mabel threw up her arms in exasperation. “You don’t have a choice! I know it’s scary, but –”
Her words trailed off into a high-pitched shriek as a vine hooked around her waist and hauled her off her feet. Dipper gasped in horror. “Mabel!”
“Dipper! Help!”
A few seconds later, another scream rang out as Wendy was snatched up as well, her axe held uselessly against her side. “Let me go, you dumb weed! I’m not done with you yet!”
Something brushed against his chin, a slight touch, soft as a feather. Dipper looked down, horrified at the sight of the vine coiling around his chest. “No!” he yelled, digging his nails into the plant as it lifted him into the air to join the others.
“What do we do now?” Soos asked. Wendy just looked at him sadly, having no comforting words left. Mabel struggled to break loose even as tears brimmed at the corners of her eyes.
The last shred of Dipper’s resolve stirred at the sight. He tried to pry away the vine holding him, but it only spurred the plant to squeeze him harder.
Crack!
A second after Dipper heard the noise, the vine released him, allowing him to fall. He landed on his back on the forest floor, grunting in pain as he hit. The impact knocked the wind out of him, but he staggered to his feet. Vines lingered around him, but none drew too close.
“Dipper!” Mabel’s voice reached him from above.
“Are you okay?” Wendy called.
“Do something, dude!” Soos added.
Dipper’s breath came back, faster and faster, too fast to manage. Black spots danced at the corners of his vision as he watched his sister and his friends dangle overhead, the vines moving them toward the wide-open mouth of the waiting flytrap. “Mabel!” he cried. “Hang on, I – I’ll figure this out! I – I can – ”
“Get away from my family, you big green jerk!”
A metallic whir filled the air and Stanley Pines burst through the underbrush, chainsaw in hand. With one quick move, he bisected the vine holding Mabel. She slipped from its grasp, screaming as she fell, but Stan caught her with ease, holding her to his chest. Dipper and Mabel gasped.
“Grunkle Stan!”
“Stand back, sweetie,” Stan said, carefully sitting Mabel next to Dipper. “I’ve got this.” He picked up his chainsaw and revved it loudly before severing the other vines. Wendy dropped free, rolling gracefully as she landed and springing back up to standing position.
“Incoming!”
Dipper turned just as Ford stepped past him, gun aimed at the cocoon of plants holding Soos. He fired one blast, cleanly shooting through the cluster of vines at their base. The plants crumbled away and Soos dropped out, arms extended toward Stan. “Look out, Mr. Pines!”
Stan dropped the chainsaw and looked up. “Oh you’ve got to be kidding –”
Soos slammed into him, sending both of them tumbling in the dirt. “Thanks for the save, Mr. Pines!” Soos said, standing up and dusting himself off.
“Don’t mention it,” Stan said, coughing. “I mean it, don’t ever mention this again.”
Dipper looked back and forth between his great uncles, his lips turning up in a genuine smile. Mabel hopped in place, not even attempting to contain her excitement. “Grunkle Stan, Grunkle Ford! I can’t believe you’re here!”
“We can worry about greetings later,” Ford said, his expression grim. “First we need to deal with the vines. Tell me what’s going on. I’ve seen some hostile greenery before, but never anything like this.”
“It’s Bill,” Dipper said quietly, gesturing toward the statue. “I shook his hand and now this is happening.”
Ford frowned. “That can’t be! None of my tests gave any indication that Bill could still be alive.”
“Forget your tests!” Stan said. “Let’s just focus on sluggin’ this freak back to the second dimension!” He raised his chainsaw again, scowling at the plants that circled the group. “Come at me, you lousy crabgrass!” More vines launched toward him, but he blazed through them and continued his charge toward the statue. Wendy followed behind him, cutting down anything that Stan missed. Rake in hand, Soos hurried after, chopping up any still-wiggling vines.
“Look out, world!” Mabel exclaimed. “The invincible Pines family is together again!”
Ford knelt down in front of the twins, holding out a hand to stop Mabel’s cheering. “Kids, calm down for a moment.” He looked to Dipper. “Dipper, I saw that vine drop you before. What did you do to it?”
“I didn’t do anything,” Dipper said. “I just heard this noise and – wait.” He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out his Hatchet Body Spray. A long crack ran down the side of the bottle, through which a light stream of liquid was seeping out. “Aw man, it broke my bottle of cologne.”
“Maybe the vines are just mad because of that gross smell,” Mabel said, pinching her nose.
“Let me see that.” Ford took the bottle from Dipper and squinted at the label, nodding to himself as he read. “I don’t believe it. The combination of chemicals in this is exactly what we need. Dipper, you’ve saved us!”
Dipper’s face flushed red. “Seriously?”
Ford handed the cologne back to Dipper. “This spray is made of the most toxic mixture of chemicals I’ve ever seen! You’re lucky this stuff hasn’t given you second degree burns.” He paused thoughtfully. “If we can get this bottle into the flytrap’s mouth, then it will absorb the chemicals and die! And if the vines are coming from it, then that will kill them too!”
“Whaddya know!” Mabel said. “Guess it’s a good thing Dipper’s a stinky weirdo after all!”
“But how are we supposed to get the bottle to the flytrap?” Dipper asked.
Ford cocked his gun. “Just stick with me. We’ll run it straight to the mouth.” He smiled. “You with me?”
Dipper and Mabel nodded as one. Ford led the way, blasting every vine that came near with expert marksmanship, while Mabel covered the rear with her weedwhacker and Dipper stayed in the middle, holding the bottle in both hands. Ahead of them, Stan had cleared an area in front of the statue, with Wendy and Soos fighting off the plants on either side. The flytrap’s head bellowed, spurring Stan to respond with a war cry of his own. “I’m comin’ for you, Bill!” he said, dropping his chainsaw and making the last few strides toward the statue. Before Dipper or Ford could say anything, Stan reared back, fist clenched, and punched Bill directly in the eye.
“Hot Belgian waffles!” He instantly crumpled to his knees, clutching his hand in agony. “Ow! So much pain! Why so much pain?”
“You just punched a rock, you knucklehead!” Ford said, equal parts angry and exasperated. “Now get out of the way!” He aimed his gun at the flytrap’s head. “Get ready, Dipper! I’ll draw its attention and then you throw the bottle in its mouth!”
Dipper nodded, unable to force out any words through his shuddering breaths. The bottle in his hands was slick with both leaking body spray and his own sweat.
“Okay, nerds, get this done!” Stan said. “I’m ready to give this thing a left hook right in the – whoa!” One second later he was hanging upside down, a vine wrapped around his ankle.
“Stanley!” Ford spun toward his brother, pointing his gun at the plant holding him. In that moment, the flytrap attacked, lunging forward with its mouth agape. The flash of movement caught Ford’s eye and he dove to the side, avoiding its jaws, only to be caught up in a tangle of waiting vines.
“Oh no, Grunkle Ford!” Dipper stared in horror at his uncles, strung up side-by-side, unable to break free no matter hard they fought their restraints. At the sides of the clearing, Wendy and Soos were both pushed back by the overwhelming numbers of the encroaching vines.
Mabel gripped Dipper’s shoulder and gave him a quick shake. “Dipper, do something! We have to stop this now!”
“I can’t get the cologne into the mouth from here!” Dipper said. “It has to come closer!”
“Well whatever your plan is, tell me fast!” Mabel said. She screamed as a vine nipped at her, wrenching the weedwhacker from her hands and breaking it into pieces.
Dipper glanced around him, panic setting in. Stan and Ford were captured, Soos and Wendy were losing, Mabel was helpless, the whole town was under siege, and every single person was counting on him. And in the center of the plants, Bill Cipher’s petrified body silently taunted him, assuring him of his inevitable failure. “I don’t know how to save us, Mabel,” he said, the pounding of his heart deafening in his ears. “I freeze up just looking at Bill! I should be able to do this, but I can’t!”
“Don’t you think I’m scared of Bill too?” Mabel said. “You’re not the only one who still has nightmares about Weirdmageddon.”
Dipper looked up to meet Mabel’s eyes and was surprised by the anguish he saw in her face. “Really? But you haven’t seemed afraid of him at all.”
“Because I don’t want that to hold me back!” Mabel said. “Sure I worry about what would happen if things had gone differently, or if he ever came back. But I’m not going to let him get in the way of the rest of my life.” Her expression softened. “So what if this is the scariest problem you’ve ever faced? You have a new scariest problem every week! You used to run from gnomes, now you fight giant robots and shapeshifters and alien drones! Maybe you couldn’t beat Bill by yourself before, but that doesn’t make any difference. You’re Dipper Pines, and you’ve never let down the people who need you.”
Dipper gulped, his pulse racing. “Mabel, I – do you really think so?” His gaze darted around the vines creeping toward him before settling on Mabel, her eyes wide and pleading. He inhaled deeply, trying to slow his rapid breaths. “Well, I guess we’ll die for sure if I don’t do anything.”
“Now we’re talking!” Mabel said. “So do you have a plan?”
Dipper felt the cool glass of the bottle in his hands. “Nope,” he said. “But here goes nothing.”
He stepped forward, into the range of the flytrap. Its head glared down at him, and if it had a tongue, Dipper was sure it would be licking its lips. He closed his eyes, fighting to keep his nerves from failing him.
Mabel’s eyes widened. “Dipper, what are you doing?”
Dipper looked back at her and flashed a weak smile. “What I need to.”
Then the flytrap’s jaws clamped shut around him.
“Dipper!” Mabel screamed, running forward. The flytrap raised its head out of her reach, keeping its mouth tightly closed. Stan and Ford stared in shock at the spot where Dipper had been standing just a moment before. The vines halted their assault, allowing Soos and Wendy to turn and watch. Above them, the monster hummed rhythmically, a deep rumbling that shook the trees themselves.
Suddenly, the flytrap went rigid. A strange gurgling sound rose from within it and its head snapped about wildly. Around the clearing, the other vines writhed frantically, flailing as a raucous cough shook the flytrap. It drew back its head and opened its jaws, giving a loud wet hack as it spat out a thoroughly-drenched Dipper.
Mabel blinked in astonishment and she hurried to her brother’s side, throwing her arms around him and practically crushing him in her embrace. “What the heck did you do?” she asked, pulling back from the hug and helping him to his feet.
“I got plant spit in my ear,” Dipper said, shuddering. He held up the now-empty cologne bottle. “But I think the other guy had it worse.”
Spasms wracked the flytrap’s body as the chemicals took effect. Throughout the clearing, the vines shriveled and cracked into pieces. The freed captives plummeted to the forest floor, with Stan and Ford collapsing in a heap next to Dipper and Mabel. Behind them, a rain of vine cocoons fell and burst open, releasing a small horde of squirrels, birds, deer, and gnomes. One gray-bearded gnome bounced off Dipper’s head with a disgruntled yelp. “Shmebulock,” the gnome said, scampering away into the bushes.
With a last roar of outrage, the flytrap succumbed to the cologne. Its stem buckled beneath it and its wilted head crashed to the ground, wriggling for a moment longer before going still. Dipper finally exhaled, overcome with relief.
He was scooped up into a bear hug by Stan, Soos, and Wendy simultaneously. “You did it, Dipper!” Soos said.
“That was a real crazy move, kid!” Stan said. “Just don’t ever do that again. I don’t think my old heart can take it.” He furrowed his brow and sniffed the air. “And maybe go hose off that plant vomit.”
“Trust me, dude,” Wendy said. “It’s better than the cologne.”
Dipper stepped back and looked at everyone in turn, feeling a rush of warmth through him at the sight of all of their beaming faces. “I’m just so glad you’re all okay. I didn’t think I’d be able to save you.”
“I knew you could,” Mabel said. “And you did! Always listen to Mabel!”
Dipper grinned, but it faded as he saw Ford standing away from the group. The old man kneeled in the grass before Bill, examining something at the statue’s base. Dipper hurried to his side. “Why did this happen, Grunkle Ford? How did Bill do this?”
“I have a couple possible theories,” Ford said. “Some remnant of Bill’s power could have entered the plants and driven them to attack. Perhaps some of his will lived on in his physical body and took control of the vines once they grew around him.” An irritated expression crossed his face and he held up the empty spritzer bottle that Soos had given Dipper earlier. “Or maybe some chowderhead was out here spraying weeds with the most potent growth elixir on the planet.”
“Wait, what?” Dipper asked, blinking in surprise.
Ford pointed to the bottle. “Soos, where did get this from?”
“I found it in the closet,” Soos said. “I thought it was weed killer.”
Ford sighed. “It’s a serum that I created during my research,” he said. “Exactly the opposite of weed killer.”
“Why did you have that in the first place?” Dipper asked.
“For accelerating my experiments,” Ford said. “I was growing a lot of weird plants back in the Seventies.”
“Hey, so was I,” Stan said. Ford glared at him.
“So none of this was from Bill?” Dipper said.
“Nope,” Ford said. “Soos just accidentally mutated a hostile system of supervines.”
Soos hung his head in shame. “Sorry, dudes.”
“It’s not your fault, Soos,” Stan said. He scowled at Ford. “Blame the nerd who can’t even bother to put a label on his dangerous science junk.”
Ford rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’m sorry I didn’t clean up every single piece of my old life that was left in my house. It’s not like there were thirty years’ worth of your freakshow exhibits burying all of it anyway.”
Mabel grabbed both Grunkles by the cuffs of their sleeves and pulled them urgently. “Guys, stop fighting! We’re all back together again and we just saved the town from another crazy monster! We should be happy!”
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” Stan said, crouching down and pulling Dipper and Mabel both into another hug. “It’s good to see you little scamps again. Even if you’re already gettin’ into trouble.”
“Just like you taught us,” Dipper said, grinning.
Stan straightened up and addressed the others. “Soos, Wendy. I assume you’ve been takin’ good care of the ole Shack?”
“Of course!” Soos said. “She’s just the way you left her.”
“Maybe a little worse,” Wendy admitted. “It did just get invaded by vines.”
Stan shrugged. “Eh, it’s been through worse.”
“We’d better heard back to start repairs,” Ford said. “And I’m sure the rest of the town will want a hand with that as well.”
He led the way to the path with the rest of the group right behind him. Soos boosted Mabel onto his shoulders for a piggyback ride. “Hey, Grunkles,” she said. “Why were you so late getting here anyway?”
Ford grinned. “Ah, good question, Mabel. It is a pretty spectacular tale.”
“Hush up, Poindexter,” Stan said. “Everyone knows I’m the best storyteller in this family.” He cleared his throat. “It was a sunny morning when the Stan O’ War II sailed into the canal. Flowers were blooming, canaries were singing. And that’s when the cannibals showed up.”
As the group left the clearing, enraptured by Stan’s electrifying account of his and Ford’s adventure, Dipper paused to take one last look at Bill. The statue stood motionless amongst the piles of decaying vines, nothing more than a weathered stone left to solitude in the woods. For the first time, the dread in Dipper’s stomach dissipated. He nodded to himself and turned back to join the others. His family, his friends, his favorite people in the world.
Now, he thought, it was truly summer.
*****
Mabel groaned as she flopped back onto her bed. “Is it possible to sleep forever?”
“That’s called dying, Mabel,” Dipper said.
“I welcome it.”
The night had been long and exhausting. After leaving the woods, the Pines family had embarked on a cleaning crusade across town, offering their assistance in fixing up the damage caused by the vines. Soos and Wendy shared happy reunions with their families, relieved to find them all safe and sound. By the time they returned to the Mystery Shack, the moon was already high in the sky, and Stan and Ford agreed that renovations on the Shack itself could wait for the next day. After a quick dinner of leftover Sooscakes, there was nothing anyone wanted more than to rest.
A low snorting caught Dipper’s attention as Waddles entered into the room, hopping into Mabel’s bed and nuzzled up against her. She giggled, pulling the pig closer to her and kissing his head. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Waddles,” she said. “I don’t know what I’d have done if those vines had gotten you.”
Dipper set his hat on the table and lay back in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He sighed. “Mabel, I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Mabel said, rolling over to face her brother.
“For everything,” Dipper said. “I nearly got us all killed today because I panicked. I’ve faced my fears so many times before, but this was different. It was so much … more.”
“That’s because Bill is so much … more,” Mabel said. “I still think about him too.” She smiled. “But he’s gone. And even if he comes back, I know we can take him down. And I know you can stand up to him.”
“Thanks,” Dipper said, grinning back at Mabel. “But you’re right. I doubt we’ll ever have to deal with him again.”
“Just promise me one thing,” Mabel said, her face growing serious. “Don’t hide your fears anymore. Whatever you feel, you can talk to me about it! I’ll listen.”
Dipper nodded. “Alright, and you do the same. Tell me if you have nightmares. The best thing we can do is be there for each other.”
“Of course,” Mabel said. She stuck her clenched fist out toward Dipper. “Mystery Twins?”
Dipper mirrored the gesture, even though they were too far apart to actually touch. “Mystery Twins.”
“You kids are still awake?”
Stan stepped into the room, smirking at the twins. “It’s been a rough day,” Dipper said. “We had a lot to talk about.”
“Yeah, I hear ya,” Stan said. “Everyone else is asleep, but my darn brain won’t shut up.” He sighed. “I was really worried about you today.”
“It’s okay, Grunkle Stan,” Mabel said. “We can take care of ourselves!”
“And whenever we’re in real trouble, we know you’ll always show up to save us,” Dipper added.
Stan gave a tired smile. “You gremlins have more faith in me than you oughta. I don’t know how I got by this long without havin’ you around to keep me entertained.”
Mabel smiled. “We love you too.”
“Aw geez, it’s too early in the summer to get this mushy,” Stan said, wiping his eyes. “I need to get to sleep or I’m gonna turn into a bigger sap than the Jurassic Sap Hole.” He moved back to the doorway and flipped off the light. “Sleep well, kiddos. Hope you’re ready for a good old-fashioned Pines Family Fun Day tomorrow!”
“Goodnight, Grunkle Stan!” Dipper and Mabel said together. They nestled into their beds as Stan headed back downstairs.
In the darkness of the attic, Dipper could already feel himself drifting off to dreamland. “I really hope tomorrow is relaxing,” he said, yawning.
“In Gravity Falls?” Mabel said. “What are the odds of that?”
*****
Just after midnight, the Speedy Beaver bus pulled up in front of the Twin Bed Motel. Dale watched as his sole passenger stood up and walked to the door. The old woman was an odd one. Not many people rode into Gravity Falls in the middle of the night. But he couldn’t complain. At least she didn’t have a pig.
The old woman waved to Dale as the doors hissed closed and the bus pulled away. She took a deep breath of the cool night air, delighting in the woodsy scent. Already she felt a thrill of excitement at the idea of the new world she’d thrown herself into. Tomorrow, her life would begin again.
Carla stared up at the starry heavens for a moment before heading inside. “See you soon, Stanley.”
GR LW IRU WKH YLQH
#gravity falls#disney#gravity falls fanfiction#dipper pines#mabel pines#stanley pines#stanford pines#return to the falls#growing pains
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Fiddauthor “Crushing”
Wow I actually got a prompt done on its actual day! (Just barely lol) I had a lot of fun with this one, gave me a good excuse to insert some of my favorite crossover characters and give Ford and Fidds the full nerd-herd they deserve lol
And just a reminder I’m taking fiddauthor requests till August 4th so send any stories you’d like to see my way!
You cand read this story under the cut or over on my AO3!
word count: 1383
Every Wednesday when he had the time, Fiddleford always met up with a few of his friends in the campus library to go over their physics work. Their own unofficial study group of sorts. Though if Fiddleford was honest, most of the time they usually got side-tracked and goofed-off, especially when Rick Sanchez high-jacked the conversation. But today it was Fiddleford’s own head keeping him distracted. He caught sight of his lab partner in Organic Chemistry walking through aisles searching for books. His friend’s argument began to fall on deaf ears as he kept looking longingly at his lab partner.
“I don’t get what you see in him, the guy’s a total dick.”
Fiddleford immediately turned around, he could already feel his face burn up. “You shut your mouth right now Rick!”
Rick just shrugged. “I’m just saying. He’s super weird too. You ever have a real conversation with him?”
“Of course, we’re in the same laboratory for three hours straight!” Fiddleford snapped back. Usually he and Rick got along fine, but whenever he got all antagonistic like this Fiddleford couldn’t help but feel testy.
“Jesus, I don’t know how you do it, man.” Rick said groaning. “Like, I was his lab partner all last semester and I wanted to beat the shit out of him. He never let me do anything!”
“That’s probably because you never actually do the lab assignments.” Betty Grof piped in from across the table. “I’ve seen you dude, you just mess around with stuff and bs the lab reports. I have no idea how you pass any of your classes.”
He smirked, kicking his legs up. “Me neither. I’m pretty sure ever professor here hates my guts-“
As the two kept talking Fiddleford felt himself drawn back towards Stanford. He had this adorably determined look on his face and he kept looking between the list in his hand and the shelves of books surrounding him. Fiddleford couldn’t help but notice his lab partner had a really nice face. Especially whenever he looked up, all Fidleford could focus on was that jawline and the way his eyes sparked. And when he’d look back down at his list his hair would bounce a little.
He got so wrapped up in the sight he jumped when he felt a hand jostle his shoulder. It was Simon. He looking at him curiously. “How long have you known this guy? I don’t think I even heard about him till Rick started complaining about him.”
“Since the beginning of spring semester.” Fiddleford explained, sounding wistful. “That’s when we were in the same lab. He said he was late signing up for school and had all evening classes. That’s why we never saw him anywhere in fall. He’s also pretty shy so he never went out much.”
“Oh that’s a shame. So what’s he like? Cause Rick didn’t paint the most flattering picture.” Simon asked.
Fiddleford wasn’t quite sure where to begin. There was a lot about Stanford he had noticed in the short time they had been living together. Some of it might be too much even. “Well… He’s a pretty sweet fella. Shy like I said, real quiet. But once you get to know him you find out he’s pretty nice. And as much as he’ll try to deny it, you can tell he’s really excited to be here. Has a lot of passion for science and just… just discovering new things. Just a really sweet guy.”
“Hmmm, seems like it.” Simon said. “We should invite him over!”
“What? No! No no no. I barely talk to him outside of class. I never even see him normally! And he’s pretty shy! Uh- um plus Stanford and Rick don’t have the best… impression on each other.” Fiddleford said rushed. He had no idea what would happen if Stanford joined their circle. He hated to think it might ruin things between him and Ford.
Simon frowned at him. “You sure? He sounds like he would fit right in. Plus if he doesn’t have many friends like you said…”
“I wouldn’t want to put him on the spot though! Please Simon, things are alright where they are. So let’s just keep things… normal.” Fiddleford said, slouching down and giving Stanford one more longing look.
It was nice having him as a lab partner and a friend. Even if they weren’t the closest they appreciated what they had. But Fiddleford knew how he felt inside. The way he’d never dare say in front of his family back home, yet said so freely in front of Rick, Simon and Betty. The three of them might understand him, but who could say Stanford would be as understanding? And… and he really didn’t want to risk destroying what he had right now…
But much to his dismay, Simon wasn’t giving up. “Well what if Stanford doesn’t want to keep things ‘normal’ either?”
“What? I don’t-“
“Cause he’s been looking back here this whole time too.”
“What!?” Unable to stop himself, Fiddleford snapped his head around. He caught Stanford burying his head into a random textbook as fast as he could.
Dag’nabit… They both knew the other was here. Why did things have to be so awkward? Simon gave him an expectant look, to go up and say hi to him but Fiddleford felt frozen in his spot. Why did he always have to be so weird?
Then all at once, Simon got up from their table. “Alright, that’s it! I’m inviting him over!”
“Simon Petrikov, don’t you dare-”
But he was already walking away. Directly over to Stanford. And began animatedly talking to him and gesturing back to their table. Fiddleford’s face felt like a furnace.
And when Simon came back to their table with Stanford in tow Fiddleford wanted to curl up and die.
Stanford came to the table curious, but when he saw Rick there his smile quickly fell.
“Rick.”
“Stan.” Rick said back smugly.
Stanford obviously hated the nickname but decided not to say anything about it. When he looked around the table and saw Fiddleford, he started smiling again. Almost beaming. “Oh Fiddleford! Hi! I uh- I didn’t see you there.”
Fiddleford, who had sunk half-way off his chair and under the table awkwardly pulled himself back up. “Hi’ya.” He said sheepishly.
“Your friend Simon here, invited me to join your study group.” Ford said, gesturing to Simon as he spoke. Simon in part offered him a chair and Ford seemed to need a few seconds to fully process what was happening and sat down. Right next to Fiddleford. “So, you’re all studying physics.”
As he and Betty began talking, and Rick kept interrupting them and instigating Stanford, Fiddleford took a moment to glare daggers at Simon. Mentally screaming ‘Simon Petrikov I cannot believe you! If we weren’t friends you’d be a dead man!’ But Simon just gave him a cheeky smile.
Fiddleford couldn’t decide whether he want to thank Simon or beat him, or if he wanted to run away from the table or stay. He’d felt so distracted seeing Stanford on the other side of the library, but now that he was sitting directly next to him he could barely think straight.
And then Stanford just had to turn around and smile at him. And Fiddleford couldn’t stop himself from seeing that slight blush on his nose and cheeks too. He always managed to look so cute. And despite what he said about being terrible at making new friends he seemed to warm up quickly to Simon and Betty. And even while he’d glower at Rick he still respected him enough to listen to what the other man said. Maybe this could work. It could be nice having a fifth member on their team. And it would give him a way to see Stanford more often. Maybe they could become better friends? And if he was reading the looks Stanford kept giving him-
Crap! He’d just asked him something while Fiddleford wasn’t listening. He was pointing down to a series of equations he’d scribbled out. Fiddleford tried to mentally slap himself back into reality and focus on the equations in front of him. But even as he worked through the problem, he was still hyper-aware of how close Stanford was sitting to him.
#fiddauthor week four#fiddauthor week#fiddauthor#day 4#awkwardness/crushing#simon petrikov#betty grof#rick sanchez
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Long Time (Pines Family)
I had a good starting idea, but then it just kinda...I dunno, I hate it but I worked on this for a bit so here ya go I guess.
“GRUNKLE FORD! GRUNKLE STAN!” Mabel’s scream echoed throughout the courtyard of her school, everyone turning to watch the pink blur race over to two ratty-looking old men who caught her with grins so big they could be seen by everyone. The excited 13-year old was chattering a mile a minute as one of the men kneeled down to her height, a grin on his face as he responded to her numerous questions without skipping a beat. The other man watched in amusement, perking up when he heard some sounds nearby that sounded slightly off, Stan and Mabel not realizing he was wandering off.
“Not gonna fight back anymore Dipstick?” A taunting voice sneered, Ford poking his head around a corner to see four boys surrounding a person on their hands and knees. His blood ran cold when he recognized the familiar brown hair, Dipper slowly looking up with blood running from his nose and busted lip. He grunted moments later when one kid kicked his side, recoiling from that direction in a feeble attempt to avoid a second hit, only it never came. Slowly looking up Dipper’s eyes went wide when he saw his grunkle Ford was holding one of the boys hand, his expression dark as he looked at the preteens who looked nervous at this very tall man in front of them.
“Is there a problem here children?” His tone was cold as ice, the boys hurriedly shaking their heads as he advanced a step closer. “Then I would suggest you leave. Now.”
No further prompt was needed as the group ran as fast as they could, Dipper slowly sitting up as Ford knelt by his side with a look of concern.
“Dipper, are you alright my boy? Is your nose broken?” Ford was alarmed by the blood dripping from his nephew’s nose, digging through his pockets to pull out a handkerchief that Dipper took gratefully.
“Sorry about the blood Grunkle Ford, and no its not broken this time. I just bleed really easily.” He explained with a wince, watching as Ford collected his bookbag and the scattered notebooks all around the alley, the last book he picked up being the journal Ford had helped him make.
“This time? How many times has this happened?!” Ford asked, his rage barely repressed as Dipper shrugged, wincing when his ankle moved at the motion.
“A lot, ever since we started school I guess…” Dipper trailed off, Ford gently examining the swollen ankle before placing one arm under Dipper’s knees and the other behind his back, easily lifting Dipper up and close to his chest. Dipper instantly felt safe as his grunkle made his way back over to Stan and Mabel, Stan instantly looking angry as he took in his injured nephew as Mabel bit her lip sadly.
“Who did this? I’ll kill ‘em.” Stan groused as Ford shook his head.
“Let’s get him treated first, then threaten.” Dipper smiled faintly as Ford carried him home, Mabel riding on Stan’s shoulders as she gave a brief history about the bullies Dipper had been forced to deal with for years. Their parents weren’t home when they arrived, Mabel unlocking the door and quickly running in to get the first aid kit as Dipper was placed on the dining room table so ford could better examine his foot.
“Out with it kid, I want those punks name.” Stan grumbled, heart aching as Dipper let out a strangled gasp when Ford tried his best to gently remove his shoe, the dark purple bruise greeting them only riling his anger further.
“Grunkle Stan, it’s fine…”
“No it ain’t.” Dipper flinched at the tone in his voice, Stan sighing as he took a seat and placed a hand on Dipper’s shoulder. “This is not okay…”
“Do your teachers know who is doing this?” Ford questioned, looking affronted when Dipper nodded. “And yet no actions have been taken?”
“Grunkle Ford, things are a bit different when it comes to things like this.” Mabel spoke up, Stan gently picking her up and placing her beside her brother. “They have to see it happen during school, or the teachers don’t do anything. Mom and dad tried to stop it, but they never believe us ‘cause they don’t like Dipper much…”
“Why?” Ford gently tilted Dipper’s head up so he could make sure the bleeding had stopped from his nose, pleased to see it was merely bruised and not broken.
“Cause Dipper is the smartest in that school…and we may or may not have kept pranking the principal for the last few years.” Dipper grinned as Stan chuckled, Ford standing to go and rummage around for an ice-pack for the young boy.
“Unbelievable, and I thought the school system had been bad in our time.” Ford groused, not so easily swayed as he grabbed the only ice-pack he could see and wrapped it in a towel, handing it to Dipper once he had returned.
“Look Ford, don’t even think about goin’ after those kids. Laws are a lot stricter when it comes to kids.” Stan warned, knowing that this was the last thing his twin wanted to hear as he grumbled something in an alien language rapidly.
“Yet they allow children like Dipper to be harmed merely because they have no visible confirmation of being bullied to the point of his ankle being twisted and a close case of a broken nose?” Ford sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, once more speaking in an alien language that was most likely him cursing like a sailor. “I refuse to accept this.”
“It’s okay grunkle Ford, we only have another year and a half, then in high school we probably won’t see them again…” Dipper tried to weakly reason, Mabel nodding as the older twin gave them a wane look.
“I apologize, I just…I am very passionate about this subject.” Stan gave his brother an understanding look as the younger twins nodded. “But, you’re safe right now Mason, and that is all that matters.”
“You told him?” Mabel grinned at her brother, Dipper shrugging with a slight blush creeping up his cheeks as Stan chuckled. “You’re such a nerd.”
“Oh shut up!” Dipper blushed as the two began to bicker good-naturedly as the older twins merely chuckled and watched. It took a fair amount of convinced Ford that Dipper would be ok before he felt good enough to return on the voyage he and his brother had interrupted to see their favored family members, and even then Ford left Dipper with a wrist-watch that also doubled as an invisible shield. The parting at the docks was sad, but both parties felt giddy when they went their separate ways once more, phone calls and e-mails made daily.
The kids weren’t allowed to return that summer, the entirety of Gravity Falls of course disappointed but they carried on the best they could for another year until one day a bus drove into the familiar stop that was rarely stopped at.
“IT’S DIPPER AND MABEL!” Grenda’s cries echoed throughout the main street, citizens popping their heads out of various buildings to see the bus driver help the twins unpack the dozen suitcases they had. Cheers erupted as the townsfolk flooded around the two, smiles all around as greetings were had and the bus driver was helped by several people so he could get back on his way.
“It’s so good to see you guys!” Wendy grinned as she and Dipper switched hats, the almost 15-year old grinning as he had grown almost to her height.
“Same to you as well!” Dipper couldn’t help but grin in return, the two chatting until Mabel’s squeal rang out at the sight of an old car chugging towards the mass crowd. Stan barely got out of the car before he was almost bowled over by the energetic hug he received, Dipper hanging back until Ford motioned him over for a less-energetic but still hearty hug.
“Kids, you got here early.” Stan commented as everyone dispersed a bit from the two shrugging teens.
“Sorry, bus came way earlier than it was supposed to.” Mabel explained, bouncing back and forth on her feet.
“Our phones also died so we couldn’t let you know.” Dipper nodded, leaning against the car with a sheepish smile.
“Here I thought Stan was forgetful about charging his phone.” Ford teased as some people laughed, the conman rolling his eyes with a grin.
“So why are you guys here with so much stuff?” Soos questioned, murmurs rippling throughout the crowd as the younger twins glanced at each other.
“Well…mom and dad thought it would be a good idea if we went to school with less…problematic people.” Dipper worded carefully, not wanting to give away the fact that his parents had recently gotten a divorce and had sent them to Gravity Falls until things could be sorted out.
“You’re gonna be here for high school?” Wendy asked curiously, the two nodding which sent some cheers throughout the teens hanging around. “This is gonna be great!”
“It so is!” Mabel grinned, the town beginning to ask questions that she and Dipper were more than happy to answer. They had never looked happier as they were driven home by Stan, the two eagerly chatting around this and that until they saw the new additions to the Mystery Shack, awestruck as they hopped out of the car to get a better look.
“We figured we needed some more space, it has been a while since the old girl had an update.” Stan explained, leaning against the driver side door as he watched them grin and comment on how it looked almost like the expansion had always been there.
“We thought of giving the whole building a fresh look, but it just didn’t quite sit right.” Ford commented, already unpacking their things as the twins went over to help him. The rest of the day was spent unpacking the twins’ things and catching up on just about any topic they could think of, smiles never once falling from their faces.
It was good to be home, where they were loved and safe.
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ONE WEEK EVERYONE WANTS YOU, IT'S BECAUSE OF SOME DIFFERENCE IN THEIR CHARACTERS; THE YALE STUDENTS JUST HAVE FEWER GREAT HACKERS, YOU'LL SEE THAT THEY REALLY LOVE IT
But I stand by our responsible advice to finish college and then go home. So Hamming's exercise can be generalized to any sort of work I liked that much. As for building something users love, and make it into a company.1 They treat the words printed in the book the same way about things that change, which could complicate your life later. The CEO of that company, the rather surprising conclusion is that the underlying problem with the labels. If a link is just an explanation of why I don't have the clean, sparse feel they used to, and if necessary damage wealth in the process pay close attention to any evidence I could get on the question, it's surprising how much different fields' ideas of beauty have in common? Sometimes it literally is software, like casual games. Hapless implies passivity. Some switched from driving Ford sedans to driving small imported cars, and it also has a lot of history, like Yugoslavia, get broken up into its component parts. If anyone has examples, I would have realized that there was a triple pressure toward the center. But I don't recommend this approach to most founders, and I have always worked hard to build their product for them. Whereas an obscure angel who won't invest much, but will on the whole tend to increase your strength of will somewhat; you can see and fix it in an ugly way.
The next 40 years will bring us some wonderful things.2 We assumed his logo would deter any actual customers, but the more ambitious ones will stop at nothing to achieve that: just take a vote, all you're really doing when you start to get significant numbers of users love you than a lot of customers fast. Which means when there is a degenerate case of essay. Even a committee of 100 random people? And when VCs invest in startups when it's still uncertain what A will decide. I think most ninety percent? The Solution s Bad as things look now, there is only one real advantage to being a member of an audience makes you think of the things employers expect from someone with work experience is an understanding of what work is, the process that created them is accelerating. We want kids to be thrown off. If there were a little guy running around inside the computer executing our programs, he would have had to make search better, and I answered twenty, I could tell immediately, by the way they used to, they tend to work late at night. They can afford the risk.
I'm continually surprised by how much better you can do with it may not be an answer. You can attack labels with meta-labels: labels that refer to the use of an overloaded operator and a function call. Any immediate improvement in nerds' lives is probably going to have to pay the founders' living expenses.3 Wodehouse was a great step forward to judge people by their ability to say things like We've raised $800,000, whichever is greater.4 Most people can seem confident when they're saying one plus one is two, because they insist you dilute yourselves to set aside an option pool as well. But taking the high road worked. If we take 7% of a company. So there should be two articles: one about what to do. When someone is determined, there's still a danger that the increase in speed one could get from smaller groups started to trump the advantages of being first to market are not so bad, the kids adopt an attitude of waiting for him to go to grad school.5 When someone makes an offer in good faith, you have to figure it out from subtle clues, like a student who hasn't prepared for an exam.6 This is an area where there's great room for improvement. It was the value I derived from it.
Whether the number of such domains is so large that you can traverse. Experts have given Wikipedia middling reviews, but they want to work on anything, and that's making the stock move.7 Or the company that might solve them. It's them you have to be on site at least eight hours a day reading the user's manual to learn how to value valuable things. The workers of the early twentieth century must have had a hard time convincing the pointy-haired boss's opinion ever change? We'll end up calling these things is that there's a reason for that. A good example is the airline fare search program that ITA Software licenses to Orbitz. So by the time we funded their second startup, a year later, they had become extremely formidable.
I'd take the US system. I look at my bookshelves. That's why Julius Caesar thought thin men so dangerous. And if not, not. In practice it's hard for anyone much younger than me to understand the forces driving it. The way to solve the problem would have found it. Chair designers have to spend time on things that will make it cheap enough to sell in large volumes you tend to standardize everything. This has traditionally been given to paintings of people.8 A big component of wealth is location. So suppose Lisp does represent a kind of axiom from which most of the great programmers he wanted. And just as there is in Boston.
A startup could also give better deals to investors they expected to help the startup. You might say that it's an accident that it thus helps identify this spam. Those are pretty expensive. I'm telling you is that you make what you measure. But he wouldn't, so we hope these will be useful to confront directly. Be inappropriate.9 Fundamentally the same thing at different stages in its life: economic power converts to wealth, and wealth to social class.
Notes
The problem is that so few founders are in set theory, combinatorics, and their wives. Many people have for a seed investment in you, however unnatural it seems to have discovered something intuitively without understanding all its implications.
Actually no one else involved knows French. Unfortunately the payload can consist of dealing with money and wealth. It is a service for advising people whether or not to grow as big as a note to self. I'm using these names as we use the name implies, you could beat the death spiral by buying an additional page to deal with them.
The threshold for participating goes down to you. This has already told you an asking price. This would add a further level of incivility, the reaction of an investor I saw this I used to wonder if they'd been pretty clever by getting such a low grade, which is the extent to which the top; it's not the distinction between money and may pressure you to stop, but different cultures react differently when things go well. My feeling with the money.
I talk about real income, which was more rebellion which can vary a lot on how much of observed behavior. Buy an old-fashioned idea. Turn the other team.
Survey by Forrester Research reported in the construction industry.
Prose lets you be more precise, and thereby subconsciously seeing wealth as something that flows from some central tap. And they are not very discerning. 001 negative effect on the admissions committee knows the professors who wrote the editor, written in Lisp, you may have no decision-making causes things to them to represent anything. Bad math is merely an upper bound on a wall is art.
That's very cheap, 1/10 success rate for startups, you can ask us who's who; otherwise you may as well as a cause as it might be? If you like a core going critical. No, they don't yet have a definite plan to make peace. Even in Confucius's time it would be a win to do good work and thereby earn the respect of their works are lost.
Indeed, that's not the primary cause. Maybe it would do for a seed investment of 650k. You can't be hacked, measure the degree to which it is genuine.
Ten years later. But this takes a startup. So during the Bubble.
#automatically generated text#Markov chains#Paul Graham#Python#Patrick Mooney#problem#nothing#name#someone#editor#men#time#behavior#component
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Stanford Pines Application: Accepted
Name/Alias: Rosenthorne (Or Jess or Thorne)
Preferred Pronouns: She/her/They/Them
Age: 29
Time Zone: Central
Discord name: *Private* (since you already know who it is 8U)
Triggers: Not much. Bit of a crime buff so I’ve seen/read a few morbid things. Or a lot. Don’t like feet.
Personal/About Yourself: I can be nice and squeaky clean or I can be downright morbid and not so clean. Depends on the situation. I’m a stickler for canon when it comes down to it. Not much for romance but I can write for it when the mood allows. I have written a LOT of smut in my day though. I love the strange, the unique, dark humor, dark stuff in general.
Fandom: Gravity Falls
Character Name: Stanford Filbrick Pines
Headcanon Age: Young to Adult (But like 15 minutes older than Stan XD)
Headcanons About Character:
-Asexual, aromantic. This is mainly for the fact that in Journal 3 he wrote that he found ‘romance more baffling to him than the greatest mysteries of the universe’. If that doesn’t scream asexual, I don’t know what does.
-Despite being asexual, he is very touch starved. He wants people to talk to him. He doesn’t mind hugs, holding hands, platonic cuddles, laying side by side while talking about anything really (it doesn’t have to be science based), etc, from those who are very close to him. He will always do what he can for those who mean a lot to him. Any unsolicited touching without his acknowledgement of who it is will usually end with someone’s arm twisted behind their back and on their stomach on the floor out of reflex.
-Has a hard time opening up to people and is still learning on how to do so. This is the result of being viciously bullied growing up with Stan as his only friend. This makes being touch starved even worse.
-He did love DDMD in middle school on up and tried to join the local clubs full of other nerds who adored the game, however he was shunned and avoided like the plague due to his extra fingers. Undeterred, Ford continued to make OCs and strategies in hopes that one day he’d have friends to play it with.
-He would quickly finish his tests in school and, instead of turning it in, ‘accidentally’ leave it somewhere that Stan could cheat off him. While Stan did this, Ford would use this time to draw or read paranormal books.
-Terrified of swimming in open water at a young age, opposite of Stan’s fear of heights. He slowly grew accustomed to the idea of sailing when Stan started to weave the idea of adventures on the high seas. He did have a fascination with boats despite his fear and he had tried learning to swim in a community pool, making him a mediocre swimmer. After he arrived in Gravity Falls, he included swimming in the lake as part of his exercise regimen. He had hoped to swim the areas Nessie or Ogopogo had been rumored to be.
-After Ford closed the curtains on Stan when he was kicked out, Ford sunk to his knees and cried while hugging a pillow. Time was lost to him (he spent two weeks in his room, barely eating what his mother brought to him or going anywhere). His heart and trust had been shattered by the only person he had ever trusted. During that time, his father started to beat ideas into his head, building him up to a more egotistical persona, one that re-sparked his interest in inventing and school. He made Ford believe he was better than everyone, that he was special and only people like him were destined for something greater. However, the motives to get Ford moving again was not without want of personal gain. Filbrick still wanted those potential millions. These motives have severely harmed Ford’s ability to forgive Stanley. Ford is slowly unlearning what his father had instilled in him.
-To Filbrick’s dismay, Ford did not go down the path of ‘potential millions’ right away. The father had tried to make Ford change his mind about going out west to pursue his interests in favor of being hired on as a scientist somewhere. However, the flattery had made Ford a bit more cynical to the world around him. He did not share his grant money like his father expected him to. He pretty much cut ties with the rest of his family minus the occasional phone call to his mother.
-If it weren’t for his mother and later Fiddleford and Bill in his early years, Ford would have been worse off. When he throws himself into his work, he forgets to take care of himself. He wouldn’t shower for weeks on end, forget to eat or sleep to the point of passing out and would often forget what day or year it was.
-Loves horror movies and has somewhat identified with the monsters but greatly criticizes them. He has never showed any fear toward ‘old school’ horror movies. However, he hates jump scares and will react violently to them out of reflex.
-Ford’s trench coats have been modified to be ‘bags of holding’ through a technique he learned while traversing the universe. When you look into one of the many pockets, you find nothing but a void of stars and nebulae which pretty much are ‘pocket dimensions’. **BU-DUM-TISS** He could pull more than a live rabbit out of any one of them at any moment. Probably an extinct Dodo bird or a mini noodle dragon.
-Ford has doodles all throughout Journal 1 and 2 of characters he created for DDMD. He also has a strategy journal floating around the shack somewhere that contains some of his best material that has been lost for years.
-He buys ALL of his clothes in bulk, sometimes the boots already have their own mud stains or have them printed on them at all times. It’s a look Ford loves. Speaking of looks, not all of his black pants are actual pants. Some of them are spandex or yoga pants in case he’s afraid he may rip normal pants when having to do something athletic.
-Yes, he does have 12 PHDs. He earned one on earth but the rest were earned during the 30 years he was away. None of them are in the medical field. That’s what spells are for. One has to wonder if the other eleven are even valid in our dimension. Even he ponders that but will probably aggressively state that they are.
-Everyone expects him to like classical music. While, yes, this is true, he actually took a liking to rock and alternative music. However, he somehow knows all the lyrics to songs that were not made in his time, possibly from a parallel timeline where he got his PHDs.
-He has commissioned Mabel to make him a knitted Plaidipus plush that he shamelessly sleeps with every night. Its name is ‘Theory’.
-Ford keeps up an exercise regimen that he doesn’t force on anyone. He couldn’t care less about anyone’s physical prowess unless they wanted to adventure with him. He doesn’t want them hurt. He only comments on his brother to rile him up from time to time. Sibling rivalry and all.
-Ford has killed before and he will kill again if he has to. He doesn’t like talking about it but most of his kills were the result of either protecting himself or someone or getting something he desperately needs.
-He has a lot of scarring all across his body. While he will admit half of them were from his years in the multiverse, a good chunk of them were from Bill after he found out that Bill was plotting against him.
-After Stan’s memory recovery and his adrenaline came down, Ford had to be taken to the hospital as a result of Bill’s torture on top of the ride in the alien shuttle that would have taken him to an intergalactic prison. He didn’t stay there long. In fact, after he was bandaged up, he declared himself healed and walked right out the front door. Remember, none of his PHDs were in medical. He probably memorized a healing spell.
-Ford may be looking into changing his name after seeing the list of charges Stan put on his legal name. Yeah.
-He and Fiddleford keep a close connection. When he isn’t skyping the kids on his adventures with Stan or spending time with Stan, he is talking with Fiddleford. They pretty much rekindled their bromance. He somewhat owes his life to Fiddleford for all the times the man had saved him from his own stubbornness.
-With Dipper turning down Ford’s offer of apprenticeship, Ford has turned his sights to another adventure loving child who was more local and could probably keep up with him like, if not better than, Dipper had. Wendy. However, during their first adventure out, instead of voicing her opinion on a matter, she ended up knocking sense into him with the back side of her axe. The clanging of it against the metal plate in his head echoed throughout the woods.
.
Example Writing Piece:
There he was. Lying flat on his back on the kitchen floor of his cabin with a bewildered look on his face as a pair of long, twiggy legs draped over his chest and hugged around his arm that was outstretched and held fast against a thin chest. Never in his life did he think he could have been taken down so easily by a man who claimed to be a complete pacifist.
“Say it!” Fiddleford panted, tightening his grip on the arm some while lying on his own back, perpendicular to Ford’s body.
“Never!” Ford snapped out of his bewilderment and started to try to struggle against the hold. “They’re nothing but a stupid fashion trend!”
“Facts are facts! Leg warmers are a practical piece of clothin’!”
“What warmth could you possibly get from leg warmers?!”
“Not all of us have paddin’ in the winter, Stanferd!” the assistant growled and twisted the arm. A yelp echoed off the walls as Ford tried to manage to get the upper hand. He should have been able to dominate this… whatever it was. He was a good bit stronger than his friend. When Ford found that he was not going to get out of the hold without resorting to dirty tactics that would hurt Fiddleford, he sighed and smacked his open palm on the floor next to him to tap out. “Ah ah! Ya gotta say it!”
“No!”
“Say it’s practical! I ain’t lettin’ go until you do!”
“Fine! Leg warmers are practical! Now get off!” Ford tried to remain irritated but then started laughing at the whole situation. All this over leg warmers? Well, now he had a topic to get under his friend’s skin other than his cubic’s cube. Maybe next time he’d get a running start.
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MAKER'S SCHEDULE, 631, MANAGER'S SCHEDULE
That is, how much is due to the creators of past gadgets that gave the company a reputation for quality? I don't think it's because hackers have intrinsically higher principles so much as that their skills are easily transferrable. Apple has come back from the dead in a way that leads to more ideas. We weren't writing this code for our own amusement. Why? There is one other job besides sales where big companies can hire first-rate people: in the top 1%. As governments got more powerful, they gradually compelled magnates to cede most responsibility for protecting them.
And because Lisp was so high-level language doesn't mean anything very definite. When John Smith finishes school he is expected to get a job paying about $80,000 per year. A great deal has been written about the causes of the Industrial Revolution. Suppose you own a beat-up old car. And if they can't, they may not be the perfect test, but it has to be non-obvious. Many employees would work harder if they could get paid for it. He runs eagerly to to tell the others, because of the Blub paradox to your advantage: you can use any language, which do you use? Two things changed. You can make more wealth. For most of human history it has not even been the most common. So let's get Bill Gates out of the big galley and put them in a boat together.
I'm not saying that good design requires a dictator. One is that it makes trade work. Upside must be balanced by downside, so if there is big potential for gain there must also be a terrifying possibility of loss. Businesses would become more secretive to compensate, and in fact can't be done by collaborators. Economically, you can use any language you want. A good architect, for example, grew big by designing a system, the McDonald's franchise, that could then be reproduced at will all over the face of the earth. It's very constraining in some ways. Driven by his enthusiasm for the new project he works on it for many hours at a stretch. Kids know, without knowing they know, that they can create wealth. If you look at how famous startups got started, a lot of money to keep it that way. And that's what you do, as well, and we couldn't see any reason not to trust our instincts and go with Lisp. The long hours?
Only a few ideas are likely to make it so that you can't merely slip into doing the thing you're trying to stop doing. Garbage collection, introduced by Lisp in the mid 80s. They don't get sued by other big companies because they can threaten a counter-suit. Being profitable, for example, that you'd like to work just two or three. Competitors commonly find ways to work around a patent. This, as we then thought, let it slip by. Instead of accumulating money slowly by being paid a regular wage for fifty years, but they're not willing to let you build things in Lisp, we'd be able to test in an hour. In the last couple decades. But there's almost certainly also room for the first time in our history, the bullies stopped stealing the nerds' lunch money. Which is pretty exciting, considering the bimodal distribution of outcomes in startups: you either fail or make a lot of people realize this, but that it's obvious. But the real advantage of the ten-man boat shows when you take a shower in the morning, and if you have a choice of several languages, it is a particularly valuable thing when the atmosphere around you encourages you to do something that would otherwise seem too ambitious.
Economically, you can use technology that your competitors don't get it. In the Valley it's not only real but fashionable. Ok, I better work then. And the reason everyone doesn't use it is that programming languages are not just something that happened in Silicon Valley it seems normal. Would anyone seriously argue that Cobol is equivalent in power to Blub, but with all this other hairy stuff thrown in as well. So no matter how technically adept you are. Lots of people get rich knowing nothing more than that. You can't make the pie larger, say politicians. The theory that led to the stealth plane was developed by a Soviet mathematician.
Wealth can be created are the ones who are very smart, totally dedicated, and win the lottery. Google, which initially made money by licensing search to sites like Yahoo. I was shifting to the left. It's the way we all do things. So if a piece of software—in eight months, at enormous cost. And it's likely to. So if you need to keep your eye on here is the abstraction of money. When you make something cheaper you can sell more of them. The bully can probably run downstairs as fast as I could, and even so I didn't get to macros until page 160. That's the real point of startups. Magnates still have bodyguards, but no startups came out.
Why not? Cobol, Ada, and Java, because they know that as you run out of money, and by that point the innovation that generated it has already happened. I will say is that I can spend as much time online as I want, as long as they could. Many observers have noticed that one of the more profitable pieces of Yahoo, and the word that came to mind was optimism. And why do they so often work on developing new technology. But because they have high expenses and slow growth, they're now unappealing to investors. Their victory is so complete that I'm now surprised when I come across a computer running Windows. This was Henry Ford's plan.
#automatically generated text#Markov chains#Paul Graham#Python#Patrick Mooney#language#stealth#Kids#skills#deal#Java#amusement#others#years#Blub#example#technology#galley#Which#startups#downside#time#money#optimism#something#ways#patent#Cobol#bullies
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