#Stangie Family

[thelastspeecher]

@elishevart and I were discussing my Accidental Abduction AU and came up with the idea of Stan getting a transplant of an alien organ in that AU. I made a couple references to some ideas I had for the scenario that I was going to keep close to my chest to be used in a write of some sort. Well, here is that write!

(Timeline-wise, this ficlet takes place after this one.)

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              Ford stared at the breakfast his alien sister-in-law, Angie, had laid out for him.  It consisted of three slices of what appeared to be a small loaf of dark red bread with blue spots, a jar of a bright teal jelly, and a glass of milk.  Deciding to start with the most familiar item, Ford took a long drink of the glass of milk.  Immediately, he gagged.  It wasn’t milk.  It had the consistency of a high-pulp orange juice and the flavor of salted butterscotch.

              “Oh, dear,” Angie said.  She was helping her twin daughters, Danny and Daisy, get ready for school in the adjacent living room, and had heard Ford’s negative reaction.  “Do you not like it?”

              “No, it’s not that,” Ford said quickly, trying to avoid offending her.  He took a tentative sip of the drink.  Now that he knew what to expect, it was actually quite pleasant.  “It just looked like something on Earth that is quite different in both taste and texture.  I was merely shocked by the inconsistency.”

              “Oh, okay.  Good.  Let me know if you dislike any of your food.”

              “I will.”

              I will not.

              “What is it, if you don’t mind me asking?”

              “Juice.”

              “From what sort of plant?” Ford asked.

              “I could tell you, but you wouldn’t be able to pronounce it,” Angie said idly.

              “Ah.  I see.”  Ford tentatively picked up a slice of bread, spread it with the teal jelly, and took a bite.  To his surprise and relief, it tasted like a toasted cinnamon raisin bagel with a generic berry spread.  Stan wandered into the kitchen, shirtless.

              “Daddy, put clothes on!” Danny said fiercely.  Stan raised an eyebrow at his daughter.

              “Or what?”

              “They won’t let you go to work!”

              “Nah, I’ll just tell ‘em it’s a human holiday or something,” Stan said dismissively.  Danny and Daisy giggled.  Stan looked over at Ford.  “Do you want some coffee, Poindexter?”

              “Is it actual coffee or just this planet’s equivalent?” Ford asked warily.

              “Actual coffee.”

              “…How?”

              “Turns out, it’s not just humans that like coffee.  Aliens do, too.”  Stan grabbed a bag from a cupboard, poured the contents into an object that looked like a kettle, and pressed a button on the kettle.  “The crashed ship you were exploring that got you sent here?  It was probably part of a mission a while back to collect valuable resources from uncontacted planets, like coffee from Earth.” 

              “I’ll take a cup, then.”

              “Good, because I already set it up to make two servings, and Angie doesn’t drink it.”  Stan paused.  “Uh, a quick warning, though.  They got coffee plants to grow here, but they aren’t exactly like on Earth.  The coffee here tastes a bit different.”

              “Different how?” Ford asked.  Stan turned to face him.

              “Well, it’s kinda-”

              “Where did that scar come from?” Ford blurted out, staring at Stan’s abdomen.  Stan looked down, as though wondering what scar Ford was referring to.  He looked back up.

              “Oh, that thing?”  Stan chuckled.  “It’s a funny story, actually.”

              Judging by the appearance, I highly doubt that.  The jagged scar was clearly old and healed, but large, stretching across the right side of Stan’s upper abdomen.

              “It most certainly is not!” Angie snapped, confirming Ford’s suspicions.  She looked at her daughters.  “Girls, go get your shoes on.”  Danny and Daisy obediently ran off to get their shoes from their room.  Angie walked into the kitchen and leaned against the wall, scowling.  “Stan, we were terrified for you!  You can’t just act like what happened was a joke!”

              “I was being a stupid kid when it happened.  In my book, that makes it funny.”

              “Ugh.”  Angie rolled her eyes.

              “What happened, exactly?” Ford asked warily.

              “A year or two after I moved in for good, I was goofing off on this motorcycle thing a friend was souping up,” Stan said.  “Since I was a stupid kid, I crashed it.  Passed out right away.  Next thing I knew, I woke up in the hospital, with Angie’s family there, completely freaking out.”

              “Can you blame us?” Angie asked.  “Your spleen ruptured!”  Ford’s eyes widened.

              “Stanley, that’s a serious injury,” he said.

              “That’s what I’m saying!” Angie said, the New Jersey accent she had picked up from Stan coming out particularly strong.  Stan rolled his eyes, making Angie huff.

              “You don’t have a spleen anymore?” Ford asked.

              “Nope, still got one.”

              “But if your spleen ruptured…”

              “They grew me a new one,” Stan said with a shrug.  Ford’s jaw dropped.  “Angie, do you wanna explain it?  You’ve got the science background.”

              “Hmph.  Fine.”  Angie looked at Ford.  “The medical field on this planet has advanced enough that we are able to grow new organs for people who may need them.”  Her voice had become stilted and robotic, indicating that what she was saying was being translated from her native tongue by the translator brooch pinned to Ford’s shirt.  “We use their genetic information to grow that organ in a medical facility.  Without any defects that may have resulted in their need for a new organ, of course.”  Angie looked at Stan.  “With Stan, though, the doctors were a bit nervous, as the technology has not been tested on humans.  We found Stan a doctor who had training in human physiology, but even he was uncertain of how to proceed.  Ultimately, they decided to grow Stan a new spleen, with half of the genetic material coming from Stan and the other half coming from a suitable donor.  This would allow for the technology to work but also keep Stan’s body from rejecting the organ.”

              “By suitable donor, you mean…”

              “A member of my species,” Angie said.               “And it worked?” Ford asked.  Angie nodded.  “But…how?”

              “Our species are close enough to produce offspring capable of having their own offspring,” Angie said.  “I think it makes sense that a donor could be found for Stan.”

              “Fair enough,” Ford mumbled.  Danny and Daisy returned.  Angie walked over to Stan and kissed the top of his head.  Some part of Ford wished that he had been there when Stan first came to the planet.

              He’s always been so sensitive about the fact he’s shorter than average.  I’d imagine he’d have quite the reaction to effectively being a dwarf in this society.

              “I’ll drop the girls off with my parents on my way to work.  Please make sure you pack lunch for yourself and Stanford.”

              “Why am I getting a packed lunch?” Ford asked.  Stan frowned at him.

              “You’re coming with me to work, genius.  Did you think I was gonna leave you here all day?  Alone in my house?  With weird alien stuff that you don’t understand but definitely want to mess around with?”  Ford winced.

              When he phrases it like that…

              “Don’t worry, Ang, I’ll take care of him,” Stan said to his wife.  He kissed her on the cheek.  “Have a good day at work.”

              “You too, starlight,” Angie crooned.  She walked away.  Stan watched her leave, a goofy grin on his face.

              “Bye, kids!” he called.

              “Bye, Daddy!” Danny and Daisy shouted as Angie ushered them out the door.  The door had just closed behind Angie and the children when the kettle made a piercing whistle.  Stan grabbed two mugs from the same cupboard the coffee beans had been stored in and poured a hefty serving of liquid from the kettle into each mug.  He handed Ford a mug.  Ford stared at the drink, which was an off-white color.

              “I thought you said it was coffee,” Ford said.

              “It is.  I also said that the plants grow different on this planet.”  Stan took a sip from his own mug.  “Guess it’s just what happens when you stay somewhere long enough.  The place you’re in changes you.”

-----

              Ford managed to last a few hours before his curiosity and fascination could no longer be contained.

              “Stanley?” he said.  Stan tore his gaze away from the report he was going over.  Stan’s office at the Intergalactic and Interplanetary Communications Council was humble, consisting of a desk, a few chairs, and two bookcases.  His office had a window that looked out over the alien city, a view that Ford couldn’t help but admire.  Stan kept only two things on his desk: his keyboard, which was paired to a hologram screen, and a framed picture of Stan, his wife, and his children at a younger age.

              “What?” Stan asked.  He sighed.  “Look, I get that you’re probably bored, but that’s the only Earth book we’ve got, and I don’t have anything translated for you to read.”

              “I understand,” Ford said.  He set aside the book he had been given, an autobiography by someone apparently famous for fishing.  “But that isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.”

              “If you want me to apologize for the science fair thing, I’m not gonna,” Stan said shortly, turning back to the hologram screen he had been reading from.

              …Oh.  Right.  We have some unresolved issues.

              “That isn’t what I wanted to talk about,” Ford said quickly.  Some of the tension in Stan’s shoulders eased.  “I- I wanted to discuss the, ah, spleen situation.”  Stan glanced at him.  “I have some more questions about it.”  Stan paused, visibly thinking.  After a moment, he shrugged.

              “I need a break anyways,” he said.  He pressed a button on his keyboard, turning off the hologram screen.  He leaned back in his chair.  “What did you wanna ask me?”

              “You said that you woke up in the hospital after the accident,” Ford said.  Stan nodded.  “Was that before or after you were given the new spleen?”

              “Before.  The Roswells wanted to make sure I gave permission to get a new spleen, so while I was knocked out, the doctors got rid of my ruined spleen and stitched me up enough to stop me from bleeding out.  When I woke up, they explained what the doctors wanted to do.  I agreed to it, ‘cause why wouldn’t I?  From what they said, living without my spleen would stink.”

              An understatement.  Though maybe not on this planet, with more advanced medicine.

              “I spent a few days in the hospital while the docs whipped up my new spleen.  After they gave me the transplant, I spent another week there to recover and be ‘under observation’ or whatever.”  Stan etched air quotes around the words “under observation”.  “I had a buncha follow-ups for a while to keep an eye on me, but everything worked out.”

              “Luckily for you.”

              “Yeah.”  Stan smirked.  “I’m starting to think Lady Luck’s got a crush on me.  Or she hates me so much she lets me pull through every time just to see what I’m gonna do next.”

              “Who are the Roswells?” Ford asked.

              “That’s Angie’s family.  I had to come up with something to call ‘em.”

              “Ah.  An appropriate name.”  Ford fell silent.  Stan rolled his eyes.

              “You’ve got something else to ask, I can tell.  Spit it out.”

              “The spleen is involved with blood production,” Ford said hesitantly.  A grin slowly began to spread across Stan’s face.  “Has a partially alien spleen had any impact on your blood?”  Stan opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a pocketknife.

              “Check this shit out,” he said gleefully.  He pricked the tip of his thumb with the knife blade.  Promptly, a large drop of blood appeared.  Ford goggled.  Instead of dark red, the blood was a deep, reddish purple.  “Pretty cool party trick, ain’t it?”

              “I- I wasn’t expecting such a visible change,” Ford managed.

              “My blood is still mostly human.  But the alien blood cells are bigger than the human ones, so it makes my blood a different color.”

              “What color of blood do the aliens have?”

              “Purple.  My blood is more red than the aliens got, since, like I said, it’s mostly human.”  Stan’s grin broadened even more.  “The doc says I’m the only person with blood like this, probably in the entire universe.”

              “That’s- that’s quite-” Ford stammered as Stan pulled a bandage out of his desk and wrapped it around his thumb.  Ford frowned.  “What about your children?”

              “Danny and Daisy have Angie’s blood type.  Their pediatrician says hybrids of their kind don’t have hybrid blood.”  Stan waved a hand.  “I dunno exactly how it works.  You’d have to ask Angie.  She understands that stuff better than me.  All I care about is that my kids are healthy.”

              “As a father myself, I concur.”

              “Yeah, you said you’ve got kids,” Stan muttered.  Ford nodded.  “Are they nerds like you?”

              “Well…”

              “Don’t bother answering, actually.  There’s no way you’d have a kid that isn’t a complete geek,” Stan said dismissively.  Ford rolled his eyes.  Stan glanced at the watch-like band he wore around his wrist.  “I’ve got time for one more question before I gotta hop on a work call.”  Stan scowled.  “If I wasn’t babysitting you today, I’d be going in person.  But I don’t wanna risk you causing some sort of interplanetary incident.”

              Ignoring the passive aggression.  Or, rather, outright aggression.

              “Well?” Stan prompted.  Ford took a deep breath.

              “Yesterday, before we went to your home, you made a comment that implied you don’t really think of yourself as human anymore,” Ford said slowly.  Stan raised an eyebrow at him.  “And you- you aren’t, are you?”  Stan took a while to answer.

              “I’m not as human as I was before I left Earth, that’s for sure,” Stan said.  He drummed his fingers on his desk thoughtfully.  “I mean, the only way I could get a blood transfusion now is if the doctors here grow me some custom blood.”  Stan glanced at Ford.  “They can grow blood like they grow organs.”

              “That sounds like another thing I’ll need to ask Angie about.”

              “Oh, yeah.  You’ll love hearing how that stuff works.”  Stan chewed on his bottom lip.  “There’s the whole spleen thing, that’s a pretty big reason I’m not completely human anymore.  But even if all my parts were still human, I dunno if I could really consider myself that anymore.”

              “What do you mean?” Ford asked.  There was a loud chime from somewhere.

              “Shit, the call’s about to start,” Stan muttered.  He quickly pulled up his hologram screen and turned to face it.

              “Stanley, what do you mean?” Ford pressed.  Stan looked back at him.

              “It’s like I said this morning.  When you’ve lived somewhere long enough, it changes you.  Now, shut your yap and let me do my job, okay?”  Stan turned his attention back to the screen.  Ford opened his book again, but couldn’t focus enough to read.

              Instead, he looked out the window, staring at the bustling alien city below.

#this was super fun to write and I love this whole concept of Stan being not-quite-human #Accidental Abduction AU #Stanford Pines #Angie McGucket #Stanley Pines #Stangie Family #my writing #my stuff #speecher speaks

[thelastspeecher]

Amphibious Tendencies - Chapter 10: Typhlonectes natans

Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4   Chapter 5   Chapter 6   Chapter 7   Chapter 8   Chapter 9 Chapter 10   AO3

It's been a hot minute, but I think y'all know I've sorta been going through it, so I won't say much else other than...

Enjoy.

—

Summary: Dipper, Mabel, and Soos find out that Stan and the rest of his family are not what they seem.

The “rubber eel” (Typhlonectes natans) is sometimes sold as a fish in aquarium stores, but is actually a caecilian, a group of legless amphibians about whom little is known.

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              “Chocolate chips, chocolate chips,” Mabel muttered to herself as she rummaged through the pantry.  “Ah-ha!”  She pulled out a glass jar filled with chocolate chips.  “Why were you hiding at the back of the pantry?”

              “Whatchya doin’, cuz?” a voice asked.  Mabel turned.  Emily stood in the kitchen, watching her with visible amusement.

              “It’s been too long since I baked something, so I asked Dipper what I should make, and he suggested my famous chocolate chip brownies.”

              “It’s her most edible recipe,” Dipper chimed in.  He was sitting at the kitchen table, going over the Journal.

              “Ya might want to use chocolate chips for it, then,” Emily said.  Mabel held up the jar.  “Those aren’t chocolate chips.  They’re chocolate-covered crickets.”

              “What?!” Mabel yelped in shock.  The jar slipped from her hands.  Emily dove, catching the jar before it could hit the floor.  “Look, I like to think of myself as being open-minded, but chocolate-covered crickets?  Why?”

              “I’m not sure if you know this, but Dad likes making bets and dares.”

              “We know,” Dipper and Mabel said together.

              “Oh.  Well, since he can’t ever pass up a bet or a dare, years and years ago, someone dared him to eat a bug.  So he ate the bug.  And then he got dared to eat another.  Eventually, he realized he actually liked the taste.”  Emily shrugged.

              “There’s no way Grauntie Angie puts up with it,” Mabel said firmly.  “She’s a lady.”

              “Ma likes ‘em, too,” Emily said.  Mabel’s jaw dropped.  “She’s probably the one who hid the chocolate-covered crickets in the back of the pantry so you wouldn’t see ‘em.  She was worried how the two of ya would handle our family’s…eccentricities.”  Emily put the jar on the counter and knelt to pick up the pieces of paper she had dropped when she grabbed the jar.  She tossed the papers onto the table.  “By the way, mail’s here.”

              “Did we get something in the mail?” Dipper asked curiously.

              “Dunno.  Didn’t look.”

              “Hmm.”  Dipper picked up the letter on the top of the pile.  He frowned.  “What name is this?”

              “Huh?”  Emily walked over and peered over Dipper’s shoulder at the letter.  “Oh.  It says Banjolina.  That’s Ma’s full first name.”

              “Angie is short for Banjolina?” Dipper asked.  Emily nodded.  “I thought it was short for Angela.”

              “Everyone thinks that.  I don’t know if many people in town know her proper first name.”

              “I guess ‘Banjolina’ makes sense since her brother’s named Fiddleford,” Mabel said.

              “Yep!  Unwieldy names are a bit of a tradition in Ma’s family,” Emily said cheerfully.  She pulled out a chair and sat down.

              “Is Emily short for something weird then?” Mabel asked.  Emily shook her head.

              “Nope.  Ma insisted on not doin’ her family’s weird name thing for any of us kids.  But she wasn’t completely successful with making us happy with our names.  Molly only goes by her middle name, not her first name.”

              “Molly?” Dipper and Mabel asked together.

              “Right, I keep forgetting you haven’t had a chance to meet her yet,” Emily said.  “Molly’s the oldest triplet.  But her first name’s actually Darlene.”

              “Darlene’s a pretty name,” Mabel insisted.  Emily shrugged again.

              “Not disagreein’ with ya.  Just tellin’ ya what Molly feels.”  She looked over at the clock on the wall.  “Did you two have breakfast?”

              “Yep!  That’s why I was gonna make brownies!” Mabel chirped.

              “All right.  Well, you could make brownies,” Emily said slowly, “or you could join me.”

              “It depends on what you’re doing,” Mabel said.  Emily grinned.

              “Dad wants me to get rid of the leftover fireworks from the Fourth of July.  I figured I’d do that by setting ‘em off.”  A twinkle entered her eyes.  “So?”

              “Fireworks beat brownies!” Mabel said quickly.  Dipper nodded.

              “Agreed.”

              “Then follow me, cousins,” Emily said, standing up.  “It’s time to rain some fire from the skies.”

-----

              The still morning air was split by the squeal and subsequent pop of a firework.  Emily, Dipper, and Mabel let out whoops of joy at their first salvo.  Before Emily could light the next one, however, the door slammed open.  Grunkle Stan stormed out of the Shack.

              “All right, what are you kids doing?” he demanded.  He looked around.  “Where even are you?”

              “We’re up here, old man,” Emily called from their spot on the roof.  Grunkle Stan looked up.  He scowled.  “I’m just doin’ what ya told me to.  I’m gettin’ rid of the fireworks.”

              “That’s all you’re doing?” Grunkle Stan asked.  Emily, Dipper, and Mabel nodded.  “Have the cops showed up?”

              “Yes, but we sent ‘em on their merry way with an insult or two,” Emily said.  Grunkle Stan grinned.

              “That’s my girl!”  He waved a hand airily.  “All right, carry on.  Just make sure you put out any fires.  Don’t want the place to burn down while Angie’s still sleeping.”

              “Do you have a method you want us to use to put out the fires?” Mabel asked.  Grunkle Stan frowned thoughtfully.

              “The phrasing is questionable, but screw it.  I’ll bite.  Whattaya got in mind, kiddo?”

              “Water balloons.”

              “Huh.”  Grunkle Stan shrugged.  “I don’t see why not.”  He went back into the Shack.

              “He’s in a good mood,” Dipper commented.

              “Nah, you two just managed to grow on him, that’s all.”  Emily elbowed Dipper and Mabel playfully.  “And don’t act like he hasn’t grown on you.”

              “Heh, yeah,” Dipper said.  “When he’s not barking orders at us, he’s kind of…fun?”  Mabel nodded in agreement.

              “And I think it’s so sweet how much he’s in love with Grauntie Angie,” Mabel sighed dreamily.  “I want something like that one day.”  The door to the Shack opened.

              “What happened to the fireworks?” Grunkle Stan called.  “I was gonna watch the show!”

              “Why not be a part of it?” Mabel asked.  “I thought I cured your fear of heights!”

              “I’m more comfortable sitting on the porch than climbing on the roof.  You kids have your fun.”

              “Well, you heard the man,” Emily said to her cousins.  She held up her lighter.  “Which one are we gonna set off next?”

-----

              Dipper sprinted across the yard, running from the ululating Emily and Mabel.  He threw a water balloon at Mabel, but it bounced off her and on the ground.  Mabel threw a water balloon of her own, which burst upon contact with him.

              “Aw, man!” Dipper whined.  Emily chortled.  She looked at Grunkle Stan, who was sitting on the porch watching the festivities.

              “You gonna join us, old man?”

              “With these old bones?  No,” Grunkle Stan said.  He took another sip of his Pitt Cola.  “This is the kinda day summers were made for.  Just doing dumb things.”

              “Agreed!” Mabel and Dipper said together.  Dipper shoved Mabel playfully.  She landed on the ground, laughing.  When the water balloon fight resumed, however, Grunkle Stan’s relaxed expression morphed into one full of tension.

              Once the kids had run out of water balloons, Grunkle Stan got up and walked over.

              “Look, kids, I…”  He rubbed the back of his neck.  Dipper and Mabel looked at him curiously.  “I’ve- I’ve got somethin’ to tell you.”

              “What?” Mabel asked.  Grunkle Stan grimaced.

              “It’s- it’s complicated and you probably- you might not like it.”

              “Wait…”  Emily stared at her father.  “Dad, are you talking about…”  Grunkle Stan nodded.  Emily’s eyes widened.  “Did Ma say you could?”

              “Yeah.  After everything that happened with her, we figured it would be best.”

              “What is it?” Dipper asked.  Grunkle Stan took a deep breath.  He opened his mouth.  Before he could say anything, however, a red dot appeared on his fez.  “Is that a ladybug?”

              “Aw!” Mabel cooed.  Emily grabbed Dipper and Mabel, hurriedly pulling them away from Grunkle Stan.

              “Emily, what are you-” Dipper started.  A masked man dressed in combat gear suddenly burst from the nearby bushes and tackled Grunkle Stan to the ground.

              “Hey!” Grunkle Stan protested.  The man put his knee on Grunkle Stan’s back.  Other men dressed similarly emerged from the woods, surrounding the Shack.  “What are you doing?!”

              “Our job,” Agent Powers said, walking over with Agent Trigger by his side.  “Arresting suspicious persons and locking down any potential evidence.”

              “The government guys?” Dipper asked.  He frowned.  “I thought they got eaten by zombies.”

              “Eaten by-”  Emily stared at Dipper.  “Cuz, I’ve got bigger fish to fry right now, but yer gonna have to tell me that story later.”  She looked back at the agents.  “Potential evidence?  Like what?”

              “This entire residence,” Agent Trigger said.  Emily gaped.

              “Wh- this is my house!  You can’t just take it!”

              “We can and we will,” Agent Trigger said.

              “I’m startin’ to understand Ma and Dad’s perspectives on the government,” Emily muttered under her breath.  The agent that had tackled Grunkle Stan pulled him up and began to march him around to the front of the Shack.  “Hey!  Don’t take my dad!”  Emily let go of Dipper and Mabel, following the agent leading her father away.

              “Stay back, miss,” Agent Powers said, holding out a hand to stop her.  Emily glared at him.  She shoved his hand aside and continued.  Dipper and Mabel followed her.  They watched in shock as agents stormed inside the Shack, breaking down doors and crashing through windows.  Multiple police cars pulled up, their lights and sirens blaring.

              “What did I do that warrants this much arresting?” Grunkle Stan demanded.  One of the agents slammed his head against the hood of a car.  “Ugh!”

              “We’ve been watching you for a while,” Agent Powers said.  “Your suspicious behavior and back-alley dealings with shady characters have been raising concerns.”

              “What?  That’s not enough to arrest me!” Grunkle Stan argued, squirming viciously.  “I know my rights!”

              “You signed those rights away last night when you met with someone we have yet to identify and acquired what was clearly an illicit substance.”

              “Last night?” Grunkle Stan asked.  “I was stocking the Gift Shop all night!”  He made eye contact with Emily, Dipper, and Mabel.  “You kids have to believe me!”  The agent that had grabbed him shoved him into the back of a car.

              “Yeah, look, government guys, Grunkle Stan might not be a squeaky-clean model citizen or whatever, but there’s no way he did something bad enough to arrest him like this,” Mabel said.

              “Or take his house!” Dipper added.  He crossed his arms.  “Can’t you at least say what you think he did?”

              “That’s on a need-to-know basis,” Agent Trigger responded.

              “Translation: they don’t actually have a good reason to arrest him,” Emily said tartly.  Agent Trigger glared at her.  “I’m just tellin’ the truth.  Unlike you.”

              “Where’s Grauntie Angie?” Mabel asked, looking around.  “She can help clear things up.  Right?”

              “Only if she’s awake,” Emily mumbled.

              “Goodness!” a voice gasped.  All heads turned.  Grauntie Angie had exited the Mystery Shack.  Shocked, she daintily covered her mouth with her hand.  “What in tarnation is goin’ on?  Why are ya arrestin’ my husband?”

              “You’re Stan Pines’ wife?” asked Agent Powers.  Grauntie Angie walked up to him and held out her hand.  Agent Powers shook it reluctantly.

              “Yes, I am.”

              “In that case, you’ll have to come with us as well.”  Agent Powers held up a pair of handcuffs.  Dipper and Mabel gasped.  Grauntie Angie, however, smiled sweetly.

              “Now, that ain’t necessary, sir, is it?  I ain’t done nothin’ wrong,” she said, her voice saccharine.  Dipper frowned.

              Is her accent usually that thick?

              “I…I suppose you’re right,” Agent Powers mumbled.  A glazed look appeared in his eyes.  Grauntie Angie beamed.  “You’ll- you’ll have to come with us to the station, though.”

              “Oh, of course I will!  I have to be there to support my husband and help explain that this is all just a big misunderstandin’.”  She looked over at Emily, still standing by Dipper and Mabel.  “Emily, dear, please keep an eye on the children.”

              “The minors will be handed over to Child Protective Services,” Agent Trigger interrupted, walking over to Grauntie Angie.  Grauntie Angie’s eyes widened.

              “What?  That’s ridiculous!”  She placed her hand gently atop Agent Trigger’s in a reassuring manner.  “My daughter is more ‘n capable of supervisin’ the lil darlin’s and keepin’ ‘em out of a haystack, as we say back home.”

              Yep.  Her accent is definitely thicker than usual.

              “I…”  Agent Trigger shook his head.  He seemed dazed.  “Yes, you’re- you’re right,” he managed, the words slurring together.

              “So glad we could come to this agreement,” Grauntie Angie cooed.  “Now, gimme a mo’ to give my daughter some instructions.  I’ll come down with y’all to the station after.”  Grauntie Angie regally turned around and walked over to Emily, Dipper, and Mabel.

              “Ma, what’s goin’ on?” Emily hissed.  Grauntie Angie sighed.

              “I ain’t quite sure, honey-bun.  Clearly, these government folk are under the impression yer father is involved in somethin’ shady.  I’ll go help iron things out.”  A sour look appeared on Grauntie Angie’s face.  “I hate big government.”

              “Yeah, yeah, I know, it’s one of the many things you and Dad have in common,” Emily said, rolling her eyes.  “Any specific instructions fer watching Dipper and Mabel?”

              “No.  Just keep ‘em out of trouble.  Take ‘em to Junior’s place.”

              “But we want to stay here and help defend the Shack!” Mabel argued.  Dipper nodded.

              “The best way you three can help is by behavin’ ‘n stayin’ out of the way,” Grauntie Angie said firmly.  She looked over at the cars belonging to the government agents.  Dipper squinted.  In the bright sun, thin, pale lines stood out against Grauntie Angie’s skin.  The scars crisscrossed randomly, starting near the top of her neck and continuing down before being covered by her sensible sundress.

              Where did she get those scars?  And why haven’t I noticed them before?

              “These folks are bad news, but between Stan ‘n I, we can get things settled,” Grauntie Angie continued, unaware of Dipper’s stare.  Mabel, however, noticed, and elbowed Dipper roughly.  “Go to Junior’s.  Take the Stanleymobile.”  Grauntie Angie looked at Emily pointedly.  “I know you’ve got the spare set of keys in yer pocket.”  Emily rubbed the back of her neck, managing an abashed grin.  “I’ll call when I know more.”  Grauntie Angie kissed Emily on the cheek, then the tops of Dipper and Mabel’s heads.  She walked over to the government agents, striking up a conversation with them.

              “Well, you heard the lady,” Emily sighed.  “Stay here.  I’ll bring the car around.”  Emily walked away.  Mabel rounded on Dipper.

              “Okay, why were you staring at Grauntie Angie like that?” she demanded.

              “I just noticed something.”

              “What?”

              “She’s got scars.  All over.”

              “So?  You’re still not supposed to stare!”  Mabel shook her head.  “Honestly, Dipper.”

              “Did you know about her scars?” Dipper asked.

              “Yep!” Mabel said cheerfully.  “She let me do a makeover on her that one time and I saw while I was trying to find a foundation that matched her skin tone.  It’s difficult, since she’s pale but also has a lot of freckles.”

              “Did she tell you where the scars came from?”

              “She said it was some sort of accident at the lake.”

              “What kind of accident?”

              “She clammed up after that,” Mabel replied.  She frowned thoughtfully.  “But when I pointed out that the scars looked sorta like really thin string, she said I wasn’t too far from the truth.  I don’t know what kind of string there is at the lake, though.”

              “Fishing line, maybe?” Dipper suggested.  “But how could that cause scars?”  Mabel shrugged.  The Stanleymobile, driven by Emily, pulled up in front of them.

              “Get in, kiddos,” Emily said, her trademark grin visibly strained, “before the feds change their mind and send you to CPS.”

-----

              “What do you mean, you’re going?!” Emily demanded.  She and Junior were having a heated argument of some sort in the kitchen, though only Emily’s side of the conversation could be heard from where Dipper and Mabel had been put upon arrival at Junior’s house.

              “What are they even talking about?” asked Rana, the oldest of Junior’s quadruplet children.  Dipper and Mabel were currently sitting in the room she shared with her fellow quadruplet June.  The other two, Ryan and Jonah, had their own rooms for some reason that hadn’t been disclosed to Dipper and Mabel.

              “My guess is that Emily wants to go back to the Shack or police station or wherever Junior’s going,” Dipper said.  “So that she can help with whatever he and Grauntie Angie are doing to get Grunkle Stan out of trouble.”  Rana nodded thoughtfully.  She and her siblings were only ten, but seemed more mature than their ages would suggest.  Rana in particular was the most mature of the group.  Grunkle Stan claimed it was because she was the most like Grauntie Angie, not just in personality, but also in appearance.  She did look eerily like her grandmother, having the same nose, eyes, and hair color.  Even the freckle pattern across her nose and cheeks looked like Grauntie Angie’s.

              “It’s weird that Grandpa Stan got arrested,” Rana said quietly.  “I mean, yeah, he commits crimes all the time, but even when he gets caught, he’s able to talk his way outta it.  Y’know?”  Dipper and Mabel nodded.  “Do you guys know what he did?”

              “No, not really,” Dipper said.  Rana crossed her arms.

              “Dumb cops,” she muttered.  Dipper and Mabel exchanged a look, amused despite themselves at how Grunkle Stan and Grauntie Angie’s dislike for authorities had spread to their grandchildren.  Rana stood.

              “Where are you going?” Mabel asked.

              “Me?  I’m not goin’ anywhere.”  Rana crossed over to the bedroom’s large window and opened it.  “But you guys are gonna go to the Shack and figure out what’s going on.”

              “Are you sure?” Dipper asked warily.  Rana nodded.

              “Even if Auntie Emily convinces Dad to let her come with him, which probably won’t happen, there’s zero chance either of them will let you guys come along.  But we need all hands on deck for whatever’s happening.”

              “Then why aren’t you coming?” Mabel asked.  She and Dipper got up from the frog-shaped rug they had been sitting on.

              “I’ve gotta make sure no one catches onto the fact you guys are gone.”

              “Good point,” Dipper said with a nod.

              “Now, get going.  You’ve got the best chance of sneaking out while Auntie Emily and Dad are still arguing,” Rana said firmly.  Dipper and Mabel walked over to the window.

              “Are you sure this is safe?” Dipper asked.

              “Oh, yeah.  June and I climb down it all the time.  It makes Dad really angry,” Rana said cheerfully.  She tossed one end of a rope out the window.  “Use this.”

              With Rana holding the other end of the rope, Dipper and Mabel successfully exited through the window and climbed down to the ground.  When all four feet were on the neatly trimmed grass, Rana pulled the rope back up.  She saluted Dipper and Mabel before closing the window and disappearing from view.  Dipper looked at Mabel.

              “You ready?” he asked.  Mabel held up her grappling hook.

              “Always.”

              “Where were you keeping that?”

              “I have my secrets,” Mabel said airily.  She tucked her grappling hook inside one of her voluminous sweater sleeves.  “Let’s go.”

-----

              Dipper and Mabel crashed through the already broken window in the attic of the Shack.  They tumbled onto the floor.

              “I told you it would come in handy again,” Mabel said to Dipper.  Dipper held a finger to his mouth, shushing her.  “I told you it would come in handy again,” she whispered.  Dipper rolled his eyes.

              “I never said it wouldn’t,” he whispered back.

              “You didn’t need to.  I could tell that was what you were thinking.  Twin telepathy.”  Mabel put her grappling hook away again.  “Anyways.  We need to find the surveillance tapes, right?”

              “Yeah,” Dipper said, deciding to go with the subject change.  “They should be in his office.”  Mabel nodded.  The two quietly went over to the door of the attic and opened it as silently as they could.  They stared down the darkened staircase.  No government agents stood at the foot of the stairs, nor could they hear anyone moving around on the first floor.  They tiptoed down, carefully avoiding the particularly creaky stair, arriving at the first floor without incident.  Voices suddenly sounded.  Dipper and Mabel hurried away from the approaching agents, sneaking down the hall to Grunkle Stan’s office, and closing the door behind them.  Dipper held up his fist.  Mabel obliged with a friendly fist bump.

              “Okay, where would Grunkle Stan hide the surveillance tapes?” Dipper muttered to himself, scanning the furniture in the office.  He perused the bookshelf.  Some of the books were very scientific in nature, likely belonging to Grauntie Angie.  “Or…where would Grauntie Angie hide the surveillance tapes?”

              “Probably somewhere fun and kooky,” Mabel said, closing the file cabinet she had been inspecting.  She gasped and pointed at the jackelope head on the wall, which had a crooked antler.  “Wait!  The antellabbit!”

              “Uh, don’t you mean ‘jackalope’?” Dipper asked.  Mabel scoffed.

              “That can’t be right.”  She walked over to the jackalope and stood on her tiptoes to grab the antler, pulling it into the correct position.  The section of the wall the jackalope was mounted on promptly turned around, revealing two old-school TV monitors and a tape player.  The top monitor showed a live feed of the cameras in the gift shop, while the bottom one was black, reflecting their faces back at them.  A cardboard box sat in an alcove directly below the tape player.

              “Yes!” Dipper and Mabel cheered together.

              “And the one from this week is already in!” Mabel said, pointing to the VCR tape partially in the tape player.  She pushed it in the rest of the way.  Promptly, video appeared on the lower monitor’s screen.

              Wendy and Mabel watched Soos do the worm dance on the floor of the Gift Shop.

              “Go!  Go!  Go!  Go!” Wendy and Mabel chanted together.

              “Someone said ‘wormy dance’,” Mabel said airily to Dipper.  “We had to!  Fast forward.”  Dipper grabbed the remote off the top of the tape player and pressed the fast forward button, zooming through multiple hours.  When he let go, the Gift Shop was occupied only by Grunkle Stan, who was cheerfully putting away new merchandise.  Yesterday’s date was in the top corner of the screen, along with the time, nine at night.

              “There it is!” Dipper enthused.  “He was restocking like he said!  And the date and time show it was last night!”  There was a knock at the door.  Mabel and Dipper looked over before realizing it had come from the surveillance tape.  They looked back at the TV.  On the video, Grunkle Stan stopped stocking and walked over to the door.  He opened it.  Whoever had knocked wasn’t visible from this angle, but Grunkle Stan was clearly expecting them.

              “I was starting to get worried,” Grunkle Stan said.  “You took your sweet-ass time.”

              “Ignoring the swear,” Dipper muttered under his breath.

              The person at the door held out a box.  Grunkle Stan took the box from them.

              Mabel let out a soft gasp.  Dipper nodded silently.  He saw it, too.  Whoever was at the door had enormous, webbed hands. 

              “Why are you around here, looking like that?” Grunkle Stan asked.  “It’s dangerous.  Those government guys are still sniffing around.”  The person at the door replied, but no individual words could be made out.  “Wait.  Really?”  Grunkle Stan looked down at the box in horror.  “Okay.  Lemme take care of the security cameras real quick, then.”  Grunkle Stan handed the box back, glanced at the security camera, and then walked behind the counter.  He reached under the counter.

              The screen went black, only for the picture to come back a few seconds later.

              Grunkle Stan was in the same place he’d been at the start of the video.  Grauntie Angie was with him.  They sang along to the radio on the oldies station as they restocked.  Grauntie Angie leaned in to kiss Grunkle Stan on the cheek, making him chuckle.  The time in the corner indicated it was now past midnight.

              The mysterious box was nowhere to be seen.

              “Okay, so maybe Grunkle Stan got a mysterious thing from someone who probably wasn’t human,” Mabel said, “but that doesn’t mean he’s got nefarious plans or whatever!”  Dipper pulled out the cardboard box underneath the tape player.

              “He’s definitely hiding something,” Dipper said firmly.  He picked up a folded piece of paper from the box.

              “What’s that?” Mabel asked.  Dipper unfolded the piece of paper.  “A note?”  Dipper’s eyes widened.  He recognized the words’ fanciful font.

              “Not just any note.  A note from the Author!”

              “Whoa, what?!”  Mabel gaped at the note.  “What’s it say?”

              “Angie, when I asked you to look at my notes, I meant for you to go over the research I have done since you have been on maternity leave, not write unfairly harsh criticisms about my journal as a whole.  I believe I have been supplying more than enough field notes to make my research replicable, but perhaps we can discuss it in person once you’ve returned.  In the meantime, please keep your comments about my work focused upon what I requested.”  Dipper looked over at Mabel.  She seemed just as shocked as him.  “Mabel…this is- this is confirmation of what I’ve been saying!  Grauntie Angie, she knew the Author!”

              “I guess…” Mabel mumbled, clearly uncomfortable with the revelation.  She shook her head.  “But would Grauntie Angie hide such an important thing from us?  She doesn’t keep secrets like Grunkle Stan!”

              “We’ve never asked her about the Author,” Dipper pointed out.  “She’s been gone for so much of the summer.”  His eyes widened.  “I bet it’s all connected!  She’s been gone so much because she’s doing things related to the Author or- or the Journal!”

              “Time to take off your conspiracy hat, Dipper,” Mabel said, taking his baseball cap off his head.  Dipper scowled and grabbed it back before putting it on again.  “Grauntie Angie has to do science stuff out of state!  Emily showed us pictures of her speaking at a conference!  Not everything goes back to the Author and the Journal.”

              “In this town, it feels like it does,” Dipper muttered.  He looked down at the box.  “Whoa.”

              “What?” Mabel asked, looking inside the box as well.  “Oh, wow!  Look at all these pictures!”

              “Grunkle Stan posing with Bigfoot?” Dipper said, flabbergasted, picking up one of the Polaroid photographs.  Mabel picked up another one.

              “Here’s Grauntie Angie and Grunkle Stan with the Gobblewonker!”  She frowned.  “But the Gobblewonker was just one of Old Man McGucket’s old robots that went haywire.”

              “Apparently not.”  Dipper and Mabel sat on the floor, going through the photos together.  Each one had either Grauntie Angie or Grunkle Stan with a magical creature.  A few even had one of their kids present.  At the bottom of the box, buried underneath the photographs, were two pieces of paper.  Dipper picked one up.

              “What is it?” Mabel asked.

              “An old newspaper article,” Dipper said.  He scanned the clipping.  “It’s just from when the Mystery Shack opened.”  He frowned.  “Didn’t Grunkle Stan say that he got Manly Dan to build the Shack?”

              “Yeah.  Why?”

              “This says that the Shack used to belong to someone else.”

              “Who?”

              “It doesn’t say.”

              “Maybe he just forgot?” Mabel suggested.  “He’s an old man, he forgets things!”  Dipper picked up the other piece of paper.  “What’s that one?”

              “It says ‘secret code to hideout’ on it,” he said, inspecting the paper.  On the paper was a graph, consisting of two columns and four rows of boxes.  The top two boxes read “A” and “1”, the left second row box read “B”, and the two boxes in the third row read “C” and “3”.  The remaining boxes were blank.

              “Why would Grunkle Stan need a hideout that has a secret code?” Mabel asked.  Dipper scowled.

              “It probably has to do with why the government showed up and the person on the tape.”  He pulled out the Journal and his portable blacklight, flipping through the pages hurriedly, to no avail.  “‘A1, B, C3’…I’ve never seen a code like this.”  Mabel looked over his shoulder and gasped.

              “Wait!  I have!  Dipper, it’s the vending machine!”

-----

              As Dipper and Mabel sprinted through the Shack towards the Gift Shop, they could hear what seemed like every government agent leaving.  They burst into the Gift Shop.

              “Soos!” they cried out in delight upon seeing the man standing in front of the vending machine.  Soos gasped.

              “Kids!” he said happily.  “Where have you been?”

              “What are you doing here?” Dipper asked.

              “Dr. Angie called me and told me to protect this vending machine until Junior showed up.”  Soos chuckled softly.  “I didn’t realize she was such a fan of snacks.”

              “Soos, listen,” Dipper said.  “Something huge is going on here, and it all goes back to the vending machine.  I need you to step aside.”

              “Yeah,” Mabel chimed in, “let us through so we can prove this is all just a big misunderstanding.”  Soos sighed.

              “Guys, I know this seems crazy, but I promised Dr. Angie I’d guard the vending machine with my life.”  He smiled weakly at them.  Dipper and Mabel exchanged a look.  Dipper nodded solemnly.

              “I’m sorry, Soos,” Mabel said, stepping forward.  Before Soos could say anything else, she blew a handful of glitter into his face.  Soos let out a shout.

              “Attack glitter!  It’s pretty, but it hurts!”  While he tried to rub the glitter out of his eyes, Dipper darted around him, quickly pressing the “A”, “1”, “B”, “C”, and “3” buttons on the vending machine’s keypad.  The vending machine swung forward as though on hinges, knocking Soos, Dipper, and Mabel to the floor.  As they looked up, they gasped.  A secret staircase had been revealed behind the vending machine.  They got to their feet.  “I guess that’s why Dr. Angie wanted me to protect the vending machine.”

              “We don’t have any time to lose,” Dipper said firmly.  Soos nodded.

              “I’ll lead the way, dudes,” he said.  He headed down the staircase, marveling.  “It’s like something from a video game.”

              “Or a dream,” Mabel said.

              “Or a nightmare,” Dipper said glumly.  As the vending machine closed behind them, a pickup truck pulled up outside.

-----

              Soos, Dipper, and Mabel exited the underground elevator, entering a room that looked eerily familiar.

              “It’s just like the bunker in the woods,” Dipper said, looking around at the machinery and blinking lights.  There was a large observation window on the far wall, across from the entrance to the lab.  Visible through the observation window was an enormous, glowing machine in the shape of an upside-down triangle.  An ominous hum permeated the air.

              “What is it doing under the Mystery Shack?” Soos asked.

              “Maybe it’s Grauntie Angie’s,” Mabel suggested.  “She’s a scientist, it makes sense she’d have a lab.  Right?”  Dipper walked over to a desk below the observation window.  He immediately clenched his jaw.

              “The other two journals?” he demanded, staring at the books that lay on the desk before him.  “All this time, they were right here?  I can’t believe it!”  He kicked the desk in frustration.  “Why would Stan have those journals?!”

              “Maybe Dr. Angie had them the whole time,” Soos suggested.  “Maybe she’s the Author.”

              “She’s not,” Mabel said, sounding sad.  “But she knew him.”

              “She did?” Soos asked.

              “We found a note for Grauntie Angie that the Author wrote.”

              “Do you think she knows what happened to him?” Soos asked.  Mabel shrugged.  Dipper set the third journal down on the desk and flipped it open to the page he had theorized was a blueprint for some sort of machine.  He flipped through the other two journals, finding similar pages in them, then arranged them until they had become a drawing of the very machine visible through the observation window.  He turned on his portable black light.  Soos, Dipper, and Mabel gasped at the writing now visible on the journals’ pages.

              “Whoa,” Mabel breathed.  Dipper swallowed nervously and began to read aloud from the journals.

              “I was wrong the whole time.  The machine was meant to create knowledge but it is too powerful.  It was deceived, and now it is too late.  The device, if fully operational, could tear our universe apart!  It must not fall into the wrong hands.  If the clock ever reaches zero, our universe is doomed!”  All three looked up at the digital clock above the observation window, which had been steadily counting down the entire time they were in the lab.

              “It’s the final countdown!” Soos screamed.  “Just like they always sung about!”

              “There has to be a way to stop it,” Dipper said, flipping through the third journal urgently.  He arrived at a page reading “MANUAL OVERRIDE”.   The three entered the room the observation window looked into.  The ground was beginning to shake.  “There!  That turns it off!” Dipper said, pointing at a pole in front of the machine.  They rushed over.  Dipper flicked a switch on the side of the pole.  The rounded dome on top of the pole popped open, revealing a bright red button.

              “Wait!” a voice shouted.  Dipper paused, his hand an inch above the button.  He, Mabel, and Soos all turned to look at whoever had spoken.

              “Dude,” Soos breathed quietly.  The speaker stepped closer, their mottled green skin glistening in the eerie light of the machine.  “Is that…?”

              “A nixie,” Dipper confirmed.  The nixie, who looked to be female, crossed her arms with a scowl.  She was a foot or so taller than Mr. Ponds, slender while he was stout, and had much longer antennae, as they stretched past her shoulders.  But it was impossible to mistake the frog-like features for anything else.

              “What are you three doing down here?” the nixie asked.  Her voice was sweet and flutelike.

              “I think we should be asking you that,” Dipper said firmly.  “Our great-uncle owns this building.”  The nixie jutted her chin out.

              “Maybe I have permission from your great-uncle to be down here.”

              “Doubt it,” Dipper retorted immediately.  Mabel tugged on his arm.  He looked at her.  “What?”

              “She’s the person who was giving Grunkle Stan the thing in the surveillance video!” Mabel hissed.  Dipper whipped his head back to look at the nixie.  Mabel was right.  The nixie’s hands and arms matched those of the person who delivered the mysterious package last night.

              “Who are you?” Dipper asked.  The nixie stayed silent.

              “What did the Author call the other nixie he knew?” Mabel asked Dipper quietly.  “Mr. Ponds’ wife or mate or whatever?”

              “You think this nixie is B?” Dipper said in a low voice.  Mabel shrugged.

              “Maybe.  I mean, how many nixies are there even in Gravity Falls?”

              “…Fair enough.”  Dipper met the nixie’s eyes.  “Are you B?” he asked.  The nixie didn’t say anything, but the widening of her glowing blue eyes was answer enough.  “You are.”

              “I…”  B uncrossed her arms.  “I haven’t been called that in a while,” she croaked.

              “If you’re B, then that means you’re Mr. Ponds’ mate!” Mabel said eagerly.  B frowned.  “We met him in the Crawlspace when he was selling nixie venom!”

              “…Mr. Ponds?” B said slowly.  She looked over her shoulder.  “Darling, what have you been telling these kids?”  Mr. Ponds emerged from the shadows to stand by his mate’s side.  He was visibly out of breath.

              “Look,” he panted.  He bent over.  “Ugh.  I’m too out of shape to run as much as I just did.”

              “If you went on hikes with me every now and then…”

              “Ang, you know I’m too busy dealing with tour…” Mr. Ponds started.  His eyes widened in horror.  But it was too late.  The three humans’ jaws dropped.

              “No. Way,” Soos breathed.

              “S for Stanley,” Dipper said slowly.  He looked at Mabel, who nodded.

              “B for Banjolina,” she finished.  B, who they now knew to be Grauntie Angie, closed her eyes.

              “Stanley Pines, I swear…”

              “We were planning on telling them anyways, why does it matter I let it slip?” demanded Mr. Ponds, aka Grunkle Stan.  Grauntie Angie glared at him.

              “There’s a lot going on right now!  I’d prefer not to dump everything on them all at once!”

              “I don’t know how it’s possible, but those two are nosier than our own kids.  It’s a miracle we kept the whole frog thing under wraps as long as we did!”

              “You knew the Author!” Dipper burst out.  Grunkle Stan and Grauntie Angie looked at him.  “You both did!  Why didn’t you say anything when I showed you the Journal?”

              “It’s- it’s a long story, kid,” Grunkle Stan said.

              “Tell us,” Mabel said.  Grunkle Stan and Grauntie Angie exchanged a pained look.  “Or- or are you gonna lie some more?”  Her voice broke mid-sentence.

              “Okay, yes, we’ve been lying,” Grunkle Stan said.  “And we technically broke the law.”  Grauntie Angie facepalmed.  “But everything we’ve done, everything we’ve sacrificed, it’s been for our family.”

              “A family that includes the three of you,” Grauntie Angie added.  Soos pointed at himself.  “Yes, Jesus, you’re family.  I’ve told you this how many times now?”

              “How can we trust you?” Dipper demanded.  He threw his hands up in the air.  “Clearly the Journal was right when it said not to trust anyone in Gravity Falls!  You guys are- are frog-people!”  He raised his hand over the shutdown button again.  It was too late.

              The timer on the wall reached zero.

              Everything went white.

#Gravity Falls #Nixie AU #Dipper Pines #Mabel Pines #Emily Pines #Stanley Pines #Angie McGucket #Soos Ramirez #Stangie #Stangie Family #Amphibious Tendencies #fanfiction #my writing #my stuff #speecher speaks

[thelastspeecher]

The Pirate Prince

I mentioned a little bit ago that in my Pirate AU, Angie and Stan's son Emmett eventually becomes the next Pirate King. Here's a sort of origin story for that.

——————————————————————————————

              There were some benefits to have a nervous nature, Emmett considered as he snuck into his parents’ bedroom.  His parents and siblings were all at a festival in the Gravity Falls town square.  Being anxious and uncomfortable in large crowds, Emmett had been allowed to stay home.

              I mean, it ain’t like I’m lyin’.  I really don’t think I’d enjoy the big kerfuffle goin’ on today.  But I did play it up just a tad to make sure they’d let me stay home.  With everyone out of the house, he could finally snoop in his parents’ room.  From the outside, they were straitlaced pillars of the community.  Angie cooked for the poor and sick, while Stan mentored young people who lacked parental figures.  But Emmett knew it was all an act.

              Behind closed doors, his parents taught all their children how to pickpocket, swore like sailors, had mysterious scars, and walked like they were ready for danger at any moment.  The last one, Emmett recognized because he himself behaved in that way.  He had a feeling, however, that his parents weren’t on edge because of severe anxiety.

              After all, Stan taught Emmett how to see through lies from anyone.  Even Stan himself.  And some of the lies Stan told were remarkably thin.  It was almost insulting, the expectation Emmett would believe his father changed his name to avoid sharing it with a pirate.  Or that Danny and Daisy’s early memories of time with pirates were just confusion over spending their first few years of life on a merchant ship.

              Emmett opened the door to his parents’ room and strode confidently over to the closet.  Inside were his ma’s many lovely dresses, though a few surprisingly masculine articles of clothing were hidden at the back.  Emmett nodded thoughtfully.  The trousers helped his theory, but they were far from conclusive.  His older sister Daisy preferred trousers, for one thing.  He knelt and began to stick his fingers in between the floorboards, looking for a loose one that could be pried up.  Underneath a box of bonnets, he found it.  It only took a small amount of effort to lift the board, revealing a chest below.  Emmett huffed.  His parents definitely weren’t making it easy.  But he had plenty of time before his family returned.

              He lifted the chest up and carried it into the bedroom proper, where he had better lighting to look at the contents.  Naturally, it had a large lock on it.  A lock that was swiftly picked by Stan’s best student.  Emmett set aside the lock and paused.  Now was the moment of truth.  He lifted the lid of the chest.  His breath caught in his throat.

              The lessons he’d learned in class came flooding back to him.  His twin was always fascinated by pirates, and asked question after question from their teacher when they discussed the ongoing piracy scourge.  The voice of his teacher echoed in his head.

              “The most famous pirate in recent memory was Sally McGowan, previously known as Sully McGowan, the last Pirate King.  Her blade, a gift from her first mate and rumored lover, Stan Pines, was named Wasp’s Stinger, a reference to the ferocity hidden under her small stature.  When she and her first mate disappeared, so did the blade that killed hundreds.”  Emmett cautiously picked up the cutlass that rested on top of the chest’s contents.  His fingers traced the letters that were etched into its blade.  He didn’t have the ear for languages that his younger sister Cadenza did; he’d never become properly fluent in the Irish his ma tried to teach her children.  But he knew enough to translate what was written on the sword.

              “The stinger of the wasp.”

              Emmett’s heart began to race.  The distinguishing features of Sally McGowan his teacher had told them about resounded in his ears, aligning with his ma’s physical appearance perfectly.  Blonde hair.  A large nose.  Eyes the color of the sea.  Shorter than average and very sensitive about that fact.

              He set aside the sword and continued to dig through the chest.  A few other weapons were there, including brass knuckles.  Brass knuckles were the reported favorite of Stan Pines, a former cabin boy who never properly learned swordplay and who, supposedly, looked eerily similar to Emmett’s dad, Stan McGucket.  The weapons were wrapped in more clothing, these bloodstained and torn, but apparently still full of sentimental value.  Hidden at the bottom of the chest was a pendant, made of an opal surrounded by gold.  Emmett frowned.

              Don’t recognize that.  And it don’t seem like Ma or Dad’s style.  Probably somethin’ they plundered and decided to keep as a souvenir.  He set it aside as well.  Finally, wrapped in a fine white fabric that seemed like part of a wedding dress, he found a piece of wood.  His fingers brushed against it.  It smelled of the sea and had a mark where a limpet had been pried off.  Again, he wasn’t sure what it was.  Nothing about it seemed remarkable or worth saving.  But Emmett’s suspicions had been proven long before this point.  He glanced at the clock on the wall.  He let out a swear that would make most people gasp, but his parents would barely register as a bad word.  His family would be home soon.

              Emmett quickly put everything back in the chest, aside from a small dagger that he slid into his boot.

              It’s their own fault for teachin’ their kids how to steal.  They should expect us to “borrow” things here and there.  He lingered on the cutlass of the last Pirate King, but knew that theft would be discovered far faster than lifting a simple dagger.  With everything other than the dagger placed in the chest again, he locked it, put it back under the floorboard, and shoved the box of bonnets over it.  He quickly glanced around the room as he left.  It was like he had never been in there.

              When his family returned, Emmett was reading a book on the couch.  Caleb and Cadenza eagerly began to tell him all of what he missed.  Emmett smiled and nodded, but couldn’t stop thinking about his parents.  The unassuming woman and man who raised him had once been the scourge of the high seas.

              If they could do it…maybe I could, too.

#I have Ideas to make a second part to this origin story #but this is what I've got so far and it's enough to post so it's getting posted #enjoy some Emmett-centric content #Emmett McGucket #Stangie Family #Pirate AU #my writing #speecher speaks

[thelastspeecher]

Emmett McGucket's first Professional Role in a ballet is in a production of The Nutcracker. Stan and Angie see the very first performance and almost get kicked out bc Stan decided to cheer his son on loudly the second Emmett got on stage.

#the other dancers are like ''who was that???'' and Emmett just sweats nervously #Stan gets SERIOUSLY chewed out during intermission #Angie scolds him something fierce and threatens to take someone else the next time Emmett performs #is Stan interested in the ballet? no #but he's gonna support his kids in all their weird interests #and he is v impressed by Emmett's skill #he didn't realize just how good Emmett had gotten #Stan doesn't understand his kids sometimes but he's gonna be proud of them no matter what #Emmett McGucket #Stangie Family #speecher speaks

[thelastspeecher]

In Accidental Abduction, how did Stan take to becoming a parent for the first and second time? Him wondering how a his babies will turn out.

Tbh, Stan at first probably isn't completely sure that he'll be able to have kids with Angie. Sure, Angie herself is part-human, but part of him still thinks it isn't possible. But they're able to conceive without any issues.

Stan is simultaneously really excited and scared shitless the first time Angie is pregnant. He's settled in on the planet enough to consider it his home and become part of the society and culture, but he still feels like an outsider at times. Not only does he look completely different, but he needs some accommodation for his height basically everywhere. He doesn't want his kids to experience that. The kids do wind up being short for the planet, but not nearly as short as Stan. Their final heights are shorter than average, not child-sized like Stan.

Related, Stan is worried that they'll have only one kid, which is difficult in a society where having a twin is a central aspect of the culture. Luckily, it's twins each time.

Yeah, in general, Stan has no clue what his kids will look like. He sorta expects them to look more alien than human. Angie's mom is half-human and looks full alien, after all. So he's surprised (but pleased) by the number of human features Danny and Daisy have.

By the time he and Angie have Emily and Emmett, Stan's not as stressed or worried. He feels like he can handle it. They've done this once before. He does hope that the kids have a bit more of his features. And then his prayers are answered when Emmett looks just like a human, something that astounds everyone.

In terms of taking to parenting, there's a steep learning curve for both Stan and Angie. They come from different cultures with different parenting styles, so they have to do a lot of discussion and compromise. Which isn't something that Stan really excels at. But he does it for his kids. Once the two of them figure out how they want to parent, Stan settles in pretty well. He loves being a dad.

He also loves the incredibly generous paid parental leave packages both he and Angie get from their jobs.

#thank u for your ask! #Accidental Abduction AU #Stangie Family #ask #vulpixen

[thelastspeecher]

Here's an idea! It's one of the hottest summer days in Gravity Falls and Danny and Daisy leave to do some business at the golf course, taking a wagon full of supplies. Stan and Angie just assume they're off to collect golf balls. But when they go to bring them home for lunch, they find their daughters conning rich people out of their money selling expensive "homemade lemonade and cookies" to customers. Hiding the store packaging in a bag. Stan looks on with pride, while Angie is flabbergasted!

Sorry it took me a hot minute, but here it is! Hope it's to your specifications! And I'm now officially done with the prompts in my inbox!

———————————————————————————————————–

              The bell over the Gift Shop door jingled.  Without looking up from the money he was counting at the register, Stan spoke.

              “Gift Shop’s closed fer lunch.”

              “It ain’t closed fer yer wife now, is it?”  Stan looked up.  Angie stood in the doorway.  “If it is, we might have to have a chat or two ‘bout shared property.”

              “The Gift Shop’s never closed fer you,” Stan confirmed.  Angie stepped inside and let the door close behind her.

              “Good.”

              “I mean, you’ve got a key.”

              “Stan.”

              “Of course, if ya let me teach you how to pick a lock, ya wouldn’t need one.”

              “Stan.”  Angie rolled her eyes.  “Enough with the lock pickin’.  And don’t think I ain’t aware that you’ve already taught not just the girls, but the boys, too, how to do it.”

              “Who snitched?” Stan asked.  Angie crossed her arms.

              “No one.  I caught Emmett tryin’ to get into the gun safe.  I figured if ya taught him, ya had to teach the others, too.”  Angie sighed.  “I didn’t ground him, but I did tell him to spread word to his siblin’s that they’re not s’pposed to use those lock pickin’ skills to get around our house rules.”

              “It’s not like groundin’ would do anything,” Stan muttered under his breath.  He put the cash back into the register.  “Kid barely leaves the house.”  Angie walked over and punched his arm.  “Ow.”

              “Oh, pish posh, that didn’t hurt ya.”

              “Physically, no.  Emotionally…” Stan said slowly.  Angie snickered quietly.  Seizing the opportunity, Stan flung his arm across his face dramatically.  “Punched in my best arm by my own wife!  I don’t think I’ll ever recover!”  Angie’s snickering became full-on laughter.

              “Dork,” she said, once she was finished laughing.  Stan winked at her.

              “Yer dork.”

              “Yes, yes, yer my dork.”  Angie kissed Stan on the cheek.  “But seriously, try to be a bit more supportive of Emmett, okay?  I know he’s a bit odd and anxious, but he’s a good kid.  And he’s been tryin’ to be more outgoin’ lately.  Or did ya forget that he and Emory are out at another kid’s house?”

              “I know.  That’s why I had to put Soos on register this mornin’.”  Stan frowned.  “Where are the girls, again?”

              “The golf course.”

              “Why?  I thought we raised ‘em better than to spend time ‘round rich people,” Stan said.  Angie shrugged.

              “They’re collectin’ golf balls.  There’s good money in resellin’ ‘em if ya retrieve ‘em from sand traps ‘n ponds ‘n whatnot.”

              “Huh.”  Stan nodded slowly.  “Good.  I knew those two were smart.”

              “All the kids are smart.”  Angie checked her watch.  “Speakin’ of the girls, I figured we’d drop some lunch off fer ‘em.  Don’t want ‘em to use their hard-earned money on junk food or somethin’.”

              “It’s their money, they can spend it on what they want.”

              “We have perfectly fine food at home.  They shouldn’t spend money to buy ice cream from the lil shop across the street,” Angie said firmly.  Stan raised an eyebrow.

              “There’s an ice cream shop across the street from the golf course?”

              “Yes.”

              “Let’s get goin’.”  Stan grabbed his car keys.  Angie sighed.  “Ang, we’ve been over this.  I can be immature as long as I’m technically still more mature than the kids.”

              “I hate when ya nickel ‘n dime stuff like this,” Angie muttered.  Stan kissed her forehead.

              “Don’t act like yer not in the mood fer ice cream, too.”

              “…Maybe,” Angie conceded.  Stan waggled his eyebrows at her.  “All right, we can get ice cream.”

-----

              When the Stanleymobile turned onto the street the golf course was on, they immediately saw the line.

              “What the hell?” Stan muttered.  “Is golf really that popular here?”

              “Given how long we’ve lived in Gravity Falls, I think we’d know if golf was the most popular pastime fer folks,” Angie said.  “There’s got to be some other reason folks are lined up like that.”  She leaned forward.  “Looks like the crowd’s in the parkin’ lot.  Ya best park at the ice cream shop.”

              “Gladly.”  Stan turned into the ice cream shop’s parking lot, came to a stop, and turned off the car.  He looked at a poster on the outside of the shop, advertising a new flavor.  “They’ve got yer favorite flavor, Ang.”

              “Really?!”  Angie looked over.  She gasped.  “Places almost never have peaches ‘n cream!”

              “So we’re definitely stoppin’ after we give the girls their lunch?”

              “Oh, definitely,” Angie said firmly.  She and Stan got out of the car.  Angie grabbed the bag lunches before closing the passenger side door.  Stan looked across the street.  Now that they were closer, he could see the cause of the crowd.  There was some sort of stand set up in the parking lot.

              “What’s that stand sellin’ and where do I get some cheap?” he asked idly.  Angie rolled her eyes.

              “You sell more ‘n enough as is.”

              “We’ve got smart kids that need to go to college.”

              “Yes, and ‘cause they’re smart, they’ll get scholarships.  Like I did.”  Angie began to walk away.  “Or did ya forget?” she called over her shoulder.  Stan jogged briefly to catch up with her.

              “I know they’ll get scholarships, but you gotta be prepared for everything,” he said.  “The kids sometimes have issues in school.  What if they lose their scholarships over that?”

              “By the time college comes ‘round, they’ll be better equipped to handle what causes issues fer ‘em,” Angie said.

              “Yeah, but-”  Stan came to a sudden stop.  He’d heard a familiar voice.  He looked at Angie.  Judging by her expression, she’d heard the same thing.  “Are ya sure the girls wanted to come here to collect golf balls?”

              “They didn’t actually tell me what they were doin’.  I assumed.”

              “Ya know what they say about assumin’,” Stan muttered.  The familiar voice from before carried above the chatter of the crowd.

              “That’ll be five dollars, thank you, sir.”

              “They’re not collectin’ golf balls,” Angie said quietly.

              “Not unless somethin’ stole Daisy’s voice like when I got my face stolen that one time.”

              “Ugh.  Don’t remind me.”  Angie sighed.  “Should we get in line?”

              “What?  No!  We’re their parents.  That makes us VIPs,” Stan said firmly.  He grabbed Angie’s free hand and pulled her through the crowd, ignoring people scolding them for cutting ahead.  When they got to the stand, they could see it was surprisingly well-made.  A sign at the top read “D&D’s Homestyle Treats”.  And behind the stand stood their thirteen-year-old twin daughters, Danny and Daisy.

              “Uh-oh,” Danny mumbled quietly.  Daisy, however, grinned toothily.

              “Hi Ma!  Hi Dad!  Do you want some homemade stuff?” she asked.  Angie crossed her arms.

              “Homemade?”

              “Yep!”

              “I don’t recall ya makin’ lemonade ‘n cookies at home ‘fore ya left.”

              “You’re getting older, maybe you’re forgetting,” Daisy suggested.  Danny gasped.  She punched her twin’s shoulder.

              “Daisy don’t say somethin’ so rude!”

              “What?  It’s true.  Anyways, Ma and Dad, could we have this conversation a bit away from our customers?”

              “Smart,” Stan said with a nod.  He and Angie walked a few feet away.  Danny carefully placed a sign that said “Back in ten minutes” on the stand, then she and Daisy joined their parents.  “All right you two.  Spill.”

              “We’re just bein’ entrepreneurs like you raised us,” Danny said.  Angie frowned at her.  “What?”

              “Are ya actually sellin’ homemade goods?”

              “Uh, no,” Daisy said.  “They’re store-bought.”

              “Then why are ya claimin’ it’s homemade?”

              “There’s better money in it,” Daisy said simply.  Stan nodded again.

              “Smart,” he repeated.  Angie gave him a look.  “What?  It is!  I think we should be proud of the girls fer bein’ so savvy.”

              “I-”  Angie kneaded her forehead.  “I didn’t raise y’all to lie.”

              “Too bad,” Daisy said with a shrug.  “Dad did.”

              “We’re not completely lying,” Danny put in.  “There’s an asterisk on the sign after the word ‘homemade’ and if anyone asks we’ll tell ‘em the truth.  We’re also saying the asterisk out loud, but since asterisks don’t make sounds, they can’t hear it.”

              “Heh!”  Stan grabbed his daughters and gave them affectionate noogies.  “That’s my girl!  Havin’ a way out on a technicality!  I’m so proud of you two!”

              “It…is very clever,” Angie said slowly.  She sighed.  “Did yer Uncle Fidds help ya set up the stand?”

              “Yep!” Daisy chirped.

              “Where is he?”

              “The ice cream shop across the street.  Don’t worry, he’s been keepin’ an eye on us,” Danny said.  Angie nodded.

              “Good.  Good.  I’m fine with the two of ya doin’ things unsupervised, but even in Gravity Falls, I feel more comfortable knowin’ yer sellin’ stuff to strangers if’n ya have someone we trust nearby to watch ya.”

              “Especially in Gravity Falls,” Stan corrected his wife.  “Or did you forget when the gnomes tried to kidnap Danny?”  Danny shuddered.

              “Stupid weird little men,” she muttered.  Angie sighed again.

              “All right, all right.  I’ll let this slide.  You two can go back to makin’ money by lyin’.”

              “We did learn it from Dad,” Daisy pointed out.

              “That’s precisely why I’m lettin’ it slide.”  Angie smiled fondly.  “Ya best get back ‘fore yer customers get impatient.”  Stan let Danny and Daisy loose.  “First, take yer lunches.”  Angie handed over the lunch bags.  The girls quickly gave each parent a hug before scurrying back to their stand.  Stan looked at Angie.

              “Yer proud of ‘em.  I can tell.”

              “I can’t deny that you were right ‘bout this bein’ savvy behavior,” Angie said.  “Thinkin’ things through like this will help get ‘em far in life.”  Stan put his arm around Angie’s shoulders.

              “Yep.”  He grinned.  “So…ice cream?”

              “Yes.  Ice cream.”

#this sort of turned into me just having Stan and Angie being an adorable married couple bantering jalnsdjnkankjsdf #I need to write more of that for them I think. they're such a fun couple. #Stanley Pines #Angie McGucket #Danica Pines #Daisy McGucket #Stangie #Stangie Family #Stanley McGucket AU #my writing #ask #dreamhollow

[thelastspeecher]

Do you have a favorite of the Stangie kids? Do Stan and Angie have grandchildren?

Hmm

I think I rather like Emily and Emmett. Emily's a wild card chaos child who studies chemistry just so she can build her own fireworks, and Emmett's a gentle, anxious tall ballet dancer. They're both such Personalities. Also, I accidentally gave Emmett Main Character Syndrome. There are so many AUs where things just sort of happen to him. I feel like that alone means he's a favorite of mine lmao.

Yes, Stan and Angie have grandchildren! From the original four (Danny, Daisy, Emily, and Emmett), they have eight. Five from Danny, two from Emily, and one from Emmett. If you include Junior (who isn't an OG Stangie kid, since he was created for a specific AU and then was so much fun that I started including him in others), Stan and Angie have twelve grandkids. Because Junior and his spouse have quadruplets.

#was so nice to just get a random ask about my nonsense~ thank you! #Stangie #Stangie Family #ask #nelson-and-murdock

[thelastspeecher]

Amphibious Tendencies - Chapter 9: Cryptobranchus alleganiensis

Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4   Chapter 5   Chapter 6   Chapter 7   Chapter 8   Chapter 9   Chapter 10   AO3

Yes, it’s been a while since I’ve updated this fic.  Hopefully this chapter (the longest one in the fic so far) was worth the wait.  And if you haven’t seen the wonderful art I commissioned for the fic, you can find it here.

— 

Summary: Grauntie Angie has returned from her trip, but when she contracts a mysterious illness, Dipper, Mabel, Soos, and Wendy search for the cause and the cure.

The hellbender (Cryptobranchus alleganiensis) occupies a very specific niche in its habitat, and as such, is vulnerable to inconsistencies in its environment.

——————————————————————————————

             “This is where he lives?” Dipper asked.  Soos nodded.  He rang the doorbell.

             “Old Man McGucket lives right next to the dump so he has easy access to free scrap metal,” Soos replied.

             “Why does he need free scrap metal?” Mabel asked. Soos shrugged.

             “I try not to ask Old Man McGucket too many questions.”

             “Fair,” Mabel conceded.  The door opened, revealing Old Man McGucket.  Old Man McGucket grinned toothily at the three of them. His gold tooth and ever-present round reading glasses glinted in the morning sunlight.

             “Visitors!” he chirped.  “Please, please, come in!”  He stepped aside, allowing Dipper, Mabel, and Soos to enter the small house. “So, what brings y’all here?” he asked as he closed the door.

             “This,” Dipper said, holding up the beaten-up laptop for Old Man McGucket to see.  Old Man McGucket took it from him with a frown.

             “This poor thing’s been through the wringer. Didya want me to fix it or somethin’?”

             “Well, yes, that would be great, but that’s not the reason we came here,” Dipper said.  “We saw that on the inside, the laptop was labeled ‘McGucket Labs’ and since your last name is McGucket…”

             “Y’all thought I built this here piece of machinery,” Old Man McGucket said softly.  His posture, already slumped, hunched further, and he paled, nearly going as white as his trimmed beard and what bits of hair stuck out from under his wide-brimmed hat.

             “I mean, how many people are there named ‘McGucket’?” Mabel asked.  Old Man McGucket chuckled weakly.

             “I have three older siblin’s and two younger, kidlet.  And more cousins ‘n you could shake a stick at.”

             “Why would I shake a stick at my cousins?” Mabel mumbled.

             “I’m tellin’ ya I’m far from the only person named ‘McGucket’,” Old Man McGucket said, not unkindly.  He handed the laptop back to Dipper.  “I didn’t build this.  In fact, I ain’t ever seen it ‘fore.  You’d be better off askin’ someone else with my name.”

             “But even if you’ve got relatives, how many of them are in Gravity Falls?” Dipper asked.  Old Man McGucket raised an eyebrow.

             “I’m mighty surprised ya can’t answer that question yourself.”  Something in another room began to beep.  “That’s the kettle.”  Old Man McGucket stretched his back, producing popping sounds, then clapped his hands.  “And it’s as good a cue as any fer y’all to skedaddle on out.  If ya want me to repair that there laptop, feel free to bring it back.  But I’ve got to do my mornin’ yoga, and I reckon none of ya want to see that.” 

-----

             Wendy was sitting at the register, her feet propped up on the counter, when Dipper, Mabel, and Soos walked into the Gift Shop. She looked up from her magazine.

             “Oh, hey dudes,” she said lazily.  “Where have you been?”

             “Talking to Old Man McGucket,” Dipper replied. Wendy raised an eyebrow.

             “That old weirdo?  Why?”

             “While Soos was fixing the laptop, he opened it up and found out it had the name ‘McGucket Labs’ in it.  So we went to talk to Old Man McGucket about it.” Dipper scowled.  “But he just said he didn’t build it and sent us away.” Wendy sat up straight, bringing her feet down to the floor.

             “You saw the name ‘McGucket’ and went to talk to Old Man McGucket about it?” she asked.

             “Who else were we supposed to talk to?” Dipper asked defensively.

             “Uh, I dunno, maybe your great-aunt?”

             “What?” Dipper and Mabel said together.  Wendy looked at Soos.

             “C’mon, dude, I know you know Dr. Angie didn’t change her name when she married Mr. Pines.”  Soos winced slightly.

             “I…may have gotten caught up in the mystery and forgot,” he said.  Wendy rolled her eyes.  She looked back at Dipper and Mabel.

             “Dr. Angie’s last name isn’t Pines.  It’s McGucket.  Old Man McGucket is her older brother.”  Dipper and Mabel’s jaws dropped.

             “That explains why there are pictures of Old Man McGucket in the house,” Mabel said slowly.  “And why they have the same nose.”  Wendy nodded.

             “Grauntie Angie just keeps getting implicated over and over again,” Dipper said to himself.  “I feel like, at this point, she either knows the Author or is the Author.”  Wendy groaned loudly.

             “C’mon, dude!”

             “No, I think Dipper has a point,” Mabel said. “She’s been connected to this stuff too much for it to be a coincidence.”

             “Soos, back me up,” Wendy said.  Soos shook his head.  “Traitor.”

             “Why are you defending her?” Dipper asked quietly. Wendy stilled.  “Do you know something we don’t?”

             “All of this is news to me, too.  It’s just…”  Wendy crossed her arms and looked away.  “Dr. Angie’s my godmother, okay?  She- she saved my mom’s life, way before I was born.”

             “She did?” Mabel gasped.  Wendy nodded.

             “Yeah.  Mom always called it the ‘favor’ that she owed Dr. Angie.  She told me to keep an eye on Dr. Angie and help her out if she needed it.  Protect her.”

             “You’re protecting her?” Dipper asked.  “From what?”

             “You guys dragging her name through the mud!” Wendy stood up.  “Look, I’ve gotta go.  Talk to Dr. Angie about the laptop or whatever, but don’t go around accusing her of being the same guy who put Jonah in a cage.”  With that, Wendy stormed out of the Gift Shop.

             “I think we might have touched a nerve,” Soos said softly.  Dipper groaned and slapped his forehead.

             “I didn’t mean to offend Wendy!  I just can’t shake the feeling that Grauntie Angie knows more than she’s saying.”

             “She hasn’t had a chance to say much,” Mabel pointed out.  “She got back from her work thing last night and we still haven’t seen her.”

             “That’s a good point,” Dipper said.  “Where is she?”  As if on cue, Grunkle Stan poked his head into the Gift Shop.

             “Kids, Soos!” he barked.  All heads turned to face him.  “Angie went to run some errands this morning but hasn’t come back yet. Go see if you can track her down, okay?”

             “Why not call her cellphone?” Mabel asked. Stan scowled.

             “She doesn’t have it on her.”

             “Why not?”

             “She didn’t want it to get stolen.  Now, get outta here.  We’ve got tourists coming in a bit and I want Angie back before then.”

-----

             After half an hour of looking for Grauntie Angie at the stores Grunkle Stan said she might be at, there was still no sight of her.

             “Okay, I’m starting to get worried,” Soos said. “You don’t think a werewolf or fairy or something got her, do you?”

             “Grauntie Angie seems like she has magical street smarts,” Dipper said.  “I’m sure she’s fine.”  He frowned. “But it is weird that she’s not at any of the places Grunkle Stan said she would be at.”

             “Maybe she finished her errands and decided to go somewhere else,” Mabel suggested.  “Like, maybe she went to the museum?  She’s a scientist, she probably likes boring places like that.”

             “We’re near the museum right now,” Soos pointed out. “Want me to drive by just in case?”

             “It won’t hurt,” Dipper said with a shrug. Soos promptly jerked the wheel, causing the pickup to take a sharp U-turn.  He slowed down his speed as they drove past the museum.  “Uh, is that her?” Dipper asked nervously, pointing at the person collapsed on the sidewalk.  Soos slammed on the brakes and bolted out of the truck to be by Grauntie Angie’s side.

             “Dr. Angie!” he said desperately.  Grauntie Angie let out a soft moan.  She sat up, rubbing her forehead.  Dipper and Mabel exited the truck as well and came over. “Are you all right?”

             “I think so,” Grauntie Angie mumbled.  She looked around.  “I can’t quite recall why I’m here…”

             “Maybe you had a fall like old people do in those commercials,” Mabel suggested.  Grauntie Angie frowned.

             “Sweetheart, I ain’t nearly that frail yet.”  Soos stood up and helped Grauntie Angie to her feet.

             “Do you need water or food or-” he started. Grauntie Angie shook her head.

             “No, no, I’m fine.  Just confused.  And in pain from this headache.”  She let out a hiss and said something under her breath.

             “What language was that?” Dipper asked. Grauntie Angie looked at him.  “You muttered something just now, and it wasn’t in English.”

             “It was probably Irish,” Mabel said. Grauntie Angie nodded.

             “It was.  How’d ya know that?”

             “Well, Emily said she learned how to swear Irish from you.”

             “That’s news to me,” Grauntie Angie said after a moment.  “I never got ‘round to teachin’ the kids any Irish.  They just know the bits of Spanish Stan taught ‘em.”  She slumped against Soos.  “Jesus, would ya mind takin’ me back to the Shack?  I need some rest.”

             “Of course, Dr. Angie!”  Soos helped Grauntie Angie get into the truck.  Mabel and Dipper climbed into the back seat and buckled up.  Soos looked at Grauntie Angie nervously.  “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked.  Grauntie Angie rolled her eyes.

             “Yes, Jesus, I’m fine.  A bit confused, I’ve got an awful headache, but other than that, fine.”

             “If you say so…”

             “Grauntie Angie, we’ve been waiting for you to get back,” Mabel piped up.  Grauntie Angie turned around in her seat to look at Mabel and Dipper.

             “Oh?”

             “We need your help to make a nixie trap.”

             “A nixie?”  Grauntie Angie’s tone was politely bemused.  “Now, what could that be?”

             “A kind of fae,” Dipper said.  Grauntie Angie nodded slowly.

             “I do have a lot of knowledge ‘bout the Fair Folk. My Pa, he says that our ancestors encountered ‘em a lot back in the old country.”

             “The old country?” Mabel asked.

             “Ireland.  That’s where my Pa’s fam’ly came from.  It’s why I know Irish.  My Pa taught me.  Humans and the Fair Folk coexist in Ireland in a way they don’t anywhere else.  More like neighbors than anything.  Neighbors what might kidnap yer child if ya don’t take the proper precautions, but neighbors nonetheless.”  A twinkle entered her eye.  “In fact, fam’ly tradition has it that one of the McGucket ancestors caught the eye of one of the Fair Folk, to the point that they had a child together.”

             “So you’re part fairy?” Mabel gasped.  Grauntie Angie chuckled.

             “Well, if the story’s true, yes, the blood of the Fair Folk runs through my veins.  But I don’t know fer sure, given that it ain’t one of the tests they give ya at the doctor’s.”

             “A nixie is specifically a frog-like fae,” Dipper said, putting the conversation back on track.  Grauntie Angie raised an eyebrow.

             “My doctorate is in herpetology.  I know quite a bit ‘bout frogs.”

             “That’s why we wanted your help.”

             “Well…”  Grauntie Angie sighed.  “I’m sorry, sugar-cubes, but I’ll have to turn ya down.  If the Fair Folk truly live ‘round here, it’d be quite foolish to draw their attention, let alone try to trap one of ‘em.  The Fair Folk ain’t the fluttery lil butterfly girlies ya see on TV. They’re dangerous.”

             “What do you mean ‘if’?” Soos asked.  Grauntie Angie looked at him.

             “All’s I have as proof the Fair Folk are here is Dipper and Mabel’s word.  I’d need to see ‘em fer myself to know it’s true.”  She glanced at the backseat.  “No disrespect, darlin’s, it’s just the scientist in me.”

             “But you have seen them,” Soos said slowly.

             “The only time I ever saw the Fair Folk was when the Headless Horseman showed up at the farm on Samhain when I was a girl.  I ain’t ever seen ‘em in Gravity Falls.”

             “You have!” Soos insisted.  Grauntie Angie frowned.  “You’ve told me about it!”

             “Jesus,” Grauntie Angie scolded, “I think I’d know if I’d seen the Fair Folk ‘round these parts.  And I haven’t.”

             “He’s telling the truth,” Mabel said.  Grauntie Angie sighed.

             “He roped ya into this, too?”

             “Grauntie Angie,” Dipper said, “the day after we got here, you told us to be careful in the forest, because you’d seen fairies growing mushroom rings.”  Grauntie Angie’s brow furrowed.

             “I don’t recall that at all.”  She shook her head.  “Y’all must be misrememeberin’.”

             “Or maybe…you are,” Dipper suggested. Grauntie Angie chuckled.

             “Not a chance, honey.  My mind’s like a steel trap.  Ain’t nothin’ goin’ to fall out of it.”  She yawned widely.  “Oof, I think I need a nap.”

             “Are you sure you’re fine?” Mabel pressed. Grauntie Angie rolled her eyes.

             “Yer worse than Stan!  Yes, I’m fine.”  She turned back to face the front.  Dipper and Mabel exchanged a look, the same thought running through their minds.

             She’s not fine.

-----

             By the time they pulled up to the Shack, Grauntie Angie had fallen asleep.

             “Dr. Angie,” Soos said nervously, poking her. Grauntie Angie grumbled something and turned away.  “Dudes, I don’t think she’s gonna wake up.”

             “Not if you try like that,” Mabel said.  “The best way to wake someone up is to pinch their nose shut.  That always works.”  Dipper side-eyed her.

             “How many times have you done that?” he asked.

             “Enough to know it works!” Mabel said cheerfully. “Try it, Soos.”  Soos reached over and pinched Grauntie Angie’s nose.  Promptly, she punched him in the face.  Soos let out a yelp and let go.  Grauntie Angie settled back, still asleep.  “Maybe she’s under some sorta spell?  That could explain why she was saying all that stuff about not seeing fairies.”  Mabel opened the back door and got out of the truck, closely followed by Dipper.

             “If she’s under some sort of sleeping spell, I don’t know if we’ll be able to wake her up,” Dipper said, paging through the Journal.  Soos got out of the truck as well.  He tenderly prodded his nose with a wince.  “Are you all right, Soos?”

             “I don’t think she broke it,” Soos said. “Dr. Angie’s stronger than I thought she would be.”

             “A lot of people make that mistake,” a voice said. Dipper, Mabel, and Soos looked over. At some point, Grunkle Stan had exited the Shack and joined them by the truck.  He looked at Grauntie Angie, his eyes soft with fondness.  “I was gonna ask why you three were just standing around shooting the breeze, but it’s pretty obvious.”  Grunkle Stan opened the truck door.  He carefully unbuckled Grauntie Angie and hefted her into his arms. “Angie’s always been a heavy sleeper. I’ll take it from here.”  He paused.  “And…thanks for getting her.”

             “No problem, Mr. Pines!” Soos said, saluting. Grunkle Stan grunted in response. “She was acting a bit weird earlier, though…”  Grunkle Stan frowned.

             “That’s normal for her.  She’s weird.”

             “No, not like-” Dipper said.  He blinked.  “How come you’re holding her just fine?”

             “Old people aren’t supposed to lift heavy things,” Mabel put in.

             “I’m not that old and Angie’s not that heavy.” Grunkle Stan adjusted his hold on Grauntie Angie.  “How was she acting earlier?”

             “She kept saying that she’d never seen a fairy before.  And she has! She’s told us about it!” Mabel said. Grunkle Stan furrowed his brow.

             “She also said she didn’t believe Bigfoot was real, which is weird, because the first week we were here, she told us she was stepping out to bring Bigfoot some iced tea,” Dipper added.

             “It’s like she has no memory of magical or supernatural creatures at all!” Soos said.  Grunkle Stan went pale.  “Mr. Pines? Are you all right?”

             “Yeah,” Grunkle Stan said in a tight voice.  He shifted Grauntie Angie around slightly again. “It’s just- I’m not used to carrying Angie for so long.”  He cleared his throat.  “She was probably just yanking your chains or something.  Now, get to work.  I’ve gotta put Angie in bed.”  Grunkle Stan turned around and marched back to the Shack.  When he got to the porch, he sighed heavily.  “Soos, come get the door.”

             “On it, Mr. Pines!”  Soos sprinted away.  Dipper and Mabel exchanged an unnerved look.

             “Is it just me, or did Grunkle Stan look worried about Grauntie Angie not remembering the weirdness of Gravity Falls?” Dipper asked.  Mabel shook her head.

             “It’s not just you, Dipdop.  But it might not mean anything.  He might just be worried ‘cause she’s his wife.  Y’know?”

             “Yeah.”

             “I hope Grauntie Angie is all right.”  Mabel perked up.  “Maybe she just needed a nap for her brain to work.  That happens to me all the time.”

             “Yeah, I know,” Dipper said.  Mabel punched him playfully.  They both laughed and went inside.

-----

             Soos made his goodbyes and left the Shack. Mabel turned the sign on the door over so that it read “CLOSED”.  She turned to face Dipper and Emily, who were completing the end-of-day tasks.

             “Emily?”

             “What’s up, lil cuz?” Emily asked, looking up from the register, where she was counting out the day’s profits.

             “How’s Grauntie Angie doing?  She seemed a bit…off earlier.”

             “Dad’s checking on her now, since she’s been sleeping most of the day.”  There was a bloodcurdling scream from somewhere in the house.  Mabel and Dipper jumped.

             “What was that?” Mabel squeaked.

             “Should we, uh, look into that?” Dipper asked. Emily had gone as pale as a sheet. “Emily?”

             “That sounded like Ma,” she whispered.  She swallowed.  “I’m gonna go check it out, you kids stay here.”  She headed for the entryway to the living room.  Before she could take more than a few steps, however, Grunkle Stan appeared, panting heavily.  “Dad, was that Ma?”

             “She was just a bit, uh, a bit disoriented when she woke up,” Grunkle Stan said.  Emily frowned.  “She’s not used to sleeping for so long in the middle of the day, so she was confused and thought she saw something…abnormal.”

             “Really?” Emily asked, crossing her arms.  “That doesn’t pass the smell test, Dad.” Grunkle Stan glared at her.

             “Don’t question me, squirt.  I need you to go do something.”

             “Is it because I talked back?”

             “No, I was gonna ask you to do it anyways.”  Grunkle Stan glanced at Dipper and Mabel briefly before focusing on Emily again.  “I need you to go see Gobby.”  Emily’s eyes widened.

             “Why?”

             “Your ma isn’t feeling very well.  Ask Gobby if she can think of a reason for it.”

             “What are her symptoms?”

             “I’ll call you on your way.”

             “I didn’t finish the stuff with the register-”

             “I’ll take care of it, just get going,” Grunkle Stan said impatiently.  He handed Emily a set of car keys.  “Take the Stanleymobile.”  Emily swallowed nervously and nodded.

             “Got it.”  She exited the Gift Shop.  Grunkle Stan turned to Dipper and Mabel.

             “Go to your room.”

             “Who’s Gobby?” Mabel asked.

             “An old friend.  Go to your room.”

             “We didn’t finish-” Dipper started.  Grunkle Stan rolled his eyes.

             “Kid, I’m letting you get out of your chores for the day.”

             “But-”

             “No buts,” Grunkle Stan snapped.  “Go to your room and read that weird book or make a new sweater or whatever, okay?  I’ll close things up.”

             “But-” Dipper tried again.  Grunkle Stan glared at him.  “…Okay.”  Dipper and Mabel headed into the living room and upstairs into the attic.  “That was weird.”

             “Yeah…”  Dipper looked at Mabel.  She seemed thoughtful.

             “What is it?”

             “Emily told me the other day that when Grunkle Stan gets nervous or worried, he tries to take care of everything himself.” Mabel met Dipper’s eyes.  “He does all the chores, all the cooking, all the work for the Shack, and he won’t let anyone help him.”

             “You think he’s worried?  About what?”

             “Grauntie Angie!  Doy!”

             “Oh.”  Dipper rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.  “Right.”

             “Hopefully, he’s overreacting,” Mabel said.  “I’d really hate if there was something wrong with Grauntie Angie.”

             “Same.”  The engine of the Stanleymobile roared to life.  Dipper and Mabel raced over to the window to watch Emily drive away.  For once, the radio wasn’t blasting so loudly that they could hear it from where they stood.  “But I’ve got a bad feeling about it, Mabel.”

             “Me, too.”

-----

             The bell over the door to the Gift Shop jingled. Dipper and Mabel looked up from their chores.  A tall young man with long blond hair in a ponytail stood in the doorway.

             “Junior!” Mabel shouted excitedly.  Stanley Pines Junior, Grunkle Stan and Grauntie Angie’s oldest child, smiled weakly at her.

             “Hey there, kiddo,” he said.  Of Grunkle Stan and Grauntie Angie’s kids, Junior was the one Dipper and Mabel saw the most after Emily.  Junior ran a car dealership that doubled as a mechanic shop, and Grunkle Stan had a tendency to tell Dipper and Mabel to go help his son out on days where business for the Shack was slow.  Luckily, Junior was more easy-going than Grunkle Stan, so working for him wasn’t that bad.

             “What’s going on?” Dipper asked.  “Why are you here?”  Junior was too busy with his children and shop to come by the Shack often. The sight of him was either a very good thing or a very bad thing.

             “Dad said Ma isn’t doing too well.”  Junior rubbed the long, thin nose he had inherited from Grauntie Angie.  “He asked me to come by and see what I could do.”

             “Why would he ask you?” Dipper asked.  “I thought you just worked on cars.”

             “Why he asked for my help doesn’t matter,” Junior said firmly.  “You kids should get back to work.  I’ve gotta talk to my folks.”  He strode through the Gift Shop and disappeared into the living room.  Dipper and Mabel exchanged a look.

             “It is weird that Grunkle Stan asked Junior to help with Grauntie Angie, right?” Dipper asked.  Mabel nodded.

             “Yes, it is.  I mean, she’s been sick for a week now.  They should take her to the doctor, not have Junior come over.”  She rubbed her chin thoughtfully.  “Unless Junior is going to drive them both to the doctor.”

             “Grunkle Stan won’t take Grauntie Angie to the doctor,” Dipper said.  “He told me the other day that he doesn’t trust them.”

             “Yep, that sounds like our Grunkle Stan,” Mabel said. Soft voices carried from somewhere in the house.  

             “Wanna eavesdrop?” Dipper asked.  Mabel threw aside the broom she had been sweeping with.

             “Duh!” she scoffed.  “Let’s go, bro-bro!”  Dipper set down his own broom and the two scampered out of the Gift Shop and into the living room.  They snuck down the hall to Grunkle Stan and Grauntie Angie’s bedroom.  The door was ajar.

             “Ma, you don’t remember?” Junior’s voice asked.

             “I’ve been told, but I ain’t seen it with my own eyes, so’s I can’t confirm it,” Grauntie Angie said.  Dipper looked at Mabel in horror.  Her eyes were wide with concern as well.  Grauntie Angie sounded incredibly weak.  Like she was on death’s doorstep.  “I…I’ve seen you ‘n yer sister ‘n Stan, but I ain’t seen it with me.”

             “Angie, you’ve gotta believe me,” Grunkle Stan’s voice said desperately.  “If you don’t…”  He trailed off.

             “I’m sorry, darlin’, but I can’t.  Not without proof.  You know how I am.”

             “Yeah.  Yeah, I do.” Grunkle Stan took a deep breath. “Junior, did you find out anything about memory junk?”

             “I asked around.  I guess there are some freaks in red cloaks that mess with people’s minds for some reason.  That’s the only possible explanation I could come up with fer what happened to Ma.”

             “Red cloaks?” Emily’s voice asked.

             “Aw, shit,” Grunkle Stan swore.  He groaned loudly.  “It’s that damn thing Fiddlenerd got mixed up in.”

             “Whattaya mean?” Junior asked.

             “Wait, why’d you call him Fiddlenerd?” Emily asked.

             “Old habit.  And, well…”  Grunkle Stan sighed.  “It’s a long story, but I guess that cult your uncle started never went away.”

             “He started a cult?!” Emily demanded.

             “I’ll tell you later.  After you get back from finding Fiddlenerd.  Bring him here.”

             “You got it, Dad,” Junior said.  There was a sound like someone getting up from a chair. As quietly as they could, Dipper and Mabel raced back to the Gift Shop.  They picked up their brooms again and pretended to sweep.  Shortly after, Junior and Emily walked into the Gift Shop.

             “Are you guys going somewhere?” Mabel asked. Emily ruffled her hair playfully.

             “It’s top secret, cuz,” she said with a wink. “When we get back, though, I’ll play with you, okay?”  She and Junior left.  Mabel and Dipper looked at each other.

             “Where’s Soos?” Dipper asked.

             “Grunkle Stan told him to replace the rotting boards on the outhouse,” Mabel answered.  Dipper dropped his broom.

             “Good.  Grunkle Stan won’t get suspicious he’s not in the Gift Shop, then,” Dipper said.  Mabel cocked her head curiously.  “Junior and Emily are looking for Old Man McGucket, but I don’t know if that’s the right move.  We need to go to where this whole thing started.  The museum.”  Mabel grinned and dropped her broom as well.

             “Normally, I don’t like museums, but if there’s an adventure involved, you can count me in!”

-----

             Wendy was waiting for them when they got to the museum.  She looked up from her phone as they rushed over to her.

             “All right, what’s going on?” she asked.  “All the text from Soos said was to come here.”

             “Grauntie Angie’s sick,” Dipper said.  Wendy’s eyes widened.  “She started getting weak and everything after we found her here, so we thought it would be a good place to start.”

             “Huh.”  Wendy looked at the museum entrance.  “I did just see Old Man McGucket go in.”

             “Wait, really?” Dipper asked.  Wendy nodded.  “Why would he know to be here?”  Wendy shrugged.

             “Grunkle Stan said something about Old Man McGucket being involved with a cult,” Mabel pointed out.  Wendy’s mouth dropped open.

             “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said.

             “No, that is what we heard Grunkle Stan say,” Dipper confirmed.  He frowned. “But what could that have to do with Grauntie Angie being sick?”

             “Only one way to find out,” Wendy said.  She opened the door.  “Let’s track that guy down.”

-----

             Dipper, Mabel, Soos, and Wendy walked through the empty, darkened halls of the museum.  They had yet to see someone who didn’t turn out to actually be a poorly made statue.

             “Where could he be?” Dipper asked.  Mabel shrugged.  Wendy came to a stop.  She held out her arm, stopping the others as well.

             “Do you hear that?” she whispered.  Soft muttering sounded from a nearby room. “That’s gotta be him.”  Mabel snuck over to the room and stuck her head in.

             “Hi, Old Man McGucket!” she said loudly.  Old Man McGucket let out a shocked yelp.  The others came over as well.  “What are you doing here?” Mabel asked.

             “Uh, just- just checkin’ out my fav’rite room in the museum,” Old McGucket said in a tight voice.  Dipper looked around.  The room was full of eyes.  Paintings, statues, even eyeballs in jars.  Adding to the sinister atmosphere was the only source of light: a crackling fireplace.

             “Really?” Dipper asked flatly.  “This is your favorite room?”  Old Man McGucket crossed his arms, scowling.

             “I reckon I ought to ask y’all what yer doin’ here, too,” he said shortly.  “If’n I recall correctly, all four of ya ‘re s’pposed to be workin’ at the Mystery Shack right about now.”

             “We’re on a rescue mission!” Mabel said.  Old Man McGucket frowned.

             “A rescue mission?  What for?”

             “Dr. Angie,” Wendy said.  Old Man McGucket’s eyes widened.  “She’s sick.”

             “And y’all came to the museum to help her ‘cause…” Old Man McGucket prompted, his voice wavering.

             “She only got sick after we found her here,” Soos answered.  “She was on the sidewalk and had a headache and couldn’t remember what happened.” Old Man McGucket’s shoulders drooped.

             “I can’t believe it,” he whispered.  “They- they went after her?”  He rubbed his eyes.  “No, I- I can believe it.  She’s always been mixed up in the weirdness ‘round here.”

             “Uh, what are you talking about?” Mabel asked. Old Man McGucket sighed.

             “I’ve been lyin’ to you kids,” he confessed. “I know more ‘n I’ve been lettin’ on.” He walked over to the fireplace and stared into the flames, his gaze a thousand miles away.  “I first came to this town over thirty years ago to help someone out.  But I couldn’t- I couldn’t handle this town’s oddities.  They were too much fer me.  So’s I- I came up with a way to forget ‘em.  If I could go back in time, I’d destroy the darned thing.  All’s it did was ruin my life, make me lose m’self. Turn my memory into a block of Swiss cheese.”

             “Okay, but what does that have to do with Dr. Angie?” Wendy asked.  Old Man McGucket sighed again.

             “I figured I weren’t the only person in town what wanted to forget somethin’ horrible they’d seen.  So’s I started goin’ ‘round, helpin’ folks forget.  But things- things got out of hand.”

             “It turned into a cult?” Mabel prompted.  Old Man McGucket whipped his head around to stare at her.  “We overheard Grunkle Stan say something about you and a cult.”

             “…Yes,” Old Man McGucket said softly.  “Yes, it turned into a cult.  Thanks to Angie ‘n Stan, I got out of it, but I guess the other members kept it goin’.  They hid it well enough I didn’t realize until recently, when I caught one of ‘em sneakin’ through the alley by the junkyard.”

             “Grauntie Angie and Grunkle Stan got you out of the cult?” Dipper asked.  Old Man McGucket nodded.

             “Without ‘em, my mind would be an even bigger mess ‘n it already is.”  He scowled. “If what ya say is correct, that Angie woke up outside the museum with a headache and no memory of how she got there, the Blind Eye Society was definitely responsible.  They must’ve wiped her memories after they caught her witnessin’ somethin’ paranormal.”

             “The Blind Eye Society?” Soos asked.

             “The name I came up fer the…”  Old Man McGucket winced.  “…cult.”

             “So how do we fix all this?” Wendy asked.  “I mean, it’s nice to know the problem, but it’s not super useful unless we also know the solution.  Y’know?”

             “If’n they ain’t changed things, then the memories should be stored in a secret room under the museum,” Old Man McGucket said. “But I can’t quite recall how to get there.  All’s I remember is that this room is the key.”  He shivered.  “It’s awful difficult to try to remember, with all these eyes starin’ at me.”

             “Wait…”  Dipper took a second look at the many eyes in the room.  “They are staring at you!”  Every single eye in the room was pointed in Old Man McGucket’s direction. “Move aside.”

             “If ya insist,” Old Man McGucket muttered. He took a step to the left, revealing a triangular stone with an eye carved on it.  This eye was staring straight ahead.  Dipper walked up to the stone and pushed it.  There was a loud shudder from the fireplace.  Everyone turned around, watching as the fireplace slid to the side, revealing a staircase.

             “Whoa,” Mabel gasped.

             “Thanks fer findin’ that,” Old Man McGucket said. “Who knows how long it might’ve taken me to figure out on my own?”  He frowned. “Yer all plannin’ on comin’ with, ain’t ya?”

             “Yep.”

             “Yes.”

             “Duh.”

             “Yeah!”

             “Of course,” Old Man McGucket sighed.  He crossed his arms.  “All right.  I think I can lead us to where they keep the memories from here, but I want y’all to stick close to me.  No wanderin’ off.  And most importantly, don’t look at any memories ya find.”

             “Aw, buzzkill!” Wendy whined.  Old Man McGucket scowled.

             “It ain’t right to pry into someone’s private memories.  Understand?”

             “Yes,” everyone muttered.

             “Good.”  Old Man McGucket turned to somberly face the staircase.  “Good.”

-----

             They stood before a set of large wooden doors. The top of the door was carved to looked like a massive eye, with a hydraulic tube going through the eye’s pupil. While the doors were intimidating by their mere size, there was an added uneasy air from the red spray paint crossing out the eye.

             “Now, if’n I recall proper, this is the Hall of the Forgotten,” Old Man McGucket said.  He took a deep breath and pushed the doors open.  Everyone but Old Man McGucket let out a soft gasp at the sight of the massive room.

             “Whoa.”

             “What are all these things?” Dipper asked, picking up one of the many glass tubes laying around in piles.  He squinted at it.  “It’s got Robbie’s name on it.”

             “Then Robbie’s memories were erased at some point,” Old Man McGucket replied.

             “These tubey things are memories?” Mabel asked. Old Man McGucket nodded.  “…How?”

             “Let me see if…”  Old Man McGucket looked around.  “Ah-ha!”  He walked over to a large pile of memory tubes.  At the foot of the pile was a strange device that looked like a futuristic ray gun of some sort.  On top of the gun was a compartment that held one of the tubes.  He picked it up.  “You enter in this here gun what it is ya want to forget.  Once it’s fired, those memories are saved in a tube.”

             “How do you get your memories back, if they’re in a tube?” Wendy asked.

             “Oh, ya put it in a special TV to watch it.” Old Man McGucket gestured towards a strange television tucked away in the corner of the room.

             “And that gives you your memories back?” Dipper said slowly.  Old Man McGucket shrugged.

             “Sort of.”

             “I found it!” Mabel called.  The others looked over.  Mabel stood in front of an ominous stone statue of a hooded man with outstretched arms.  Above the statue was a shelf with multiple memory tubes.  “Grauntie Angie’s memory thingy is right here!  And so is Old Man McGucket’s!”

             “Do ya have to call me that?” Old Man McGucket muttered.  He blinked. “Wait, they’ve got some of my memories?”

             “Guess so,” Mabel said with a shrug.  She grabbed two memory tubes, then threw one to Old Man McGucket.  “If you have to watch these in order to get your memories back, how is it going to help Grauntie Angie?”  Mabel’s eyes widened.  “Do we need to take the TV, too?”

             “No, I think there’s still one in the Mystery Shack’s basement,” Old Man McGucket said.

             “The Shack has a basement?” Dipper asked.  Old Man McGucket nodded.  Dipper looked at Soos and Wendy.  “Did you guys know that?”

             “Nope.”

             “I had no idea, dude.”

             “Stan can show ya when ya get there, then,” Old Man McGucket said.  He sighed softly, looking around the room.  “I really tarred it up, didn’t I?  All sorts of good folks ‘re gettin’ their memories erased all over town. ‘Cause of me.”  A determined look settled on his face.  “Guess I’ll have to clean up the mess what I made.”

             “Uh, you’re gonna take down a cult on your own?” Wendy asked.  Old Man McGucket chuckled.

             “Oh, no.  Don’t worry, I know some folks what can help me out.”

             “Who?”

             “That ain’t information fer you to know.”  Old Man McGucket took a deep breath.  “But I will come clean ‘bout somethin’.  It’s the least I can do fer yer help in findin’ my mem’ries and wantin’ to help my baby sister.”  He closed his eyes.  “I did make that laptop.”

             “I knew it!” Dipper said, punching the air. “But…why did you lie, then?”

             “I didn’t want you children to get mixed up in what awful things that laptop comes with.  But it’s pretty obvious that yer goin’ to be in trouble no matter what, so I might as well tell y’all the truth.”

             “Then- are you the Author?” Dipper asked.  Old Man McGucket frowned.

             “Author?  Of what?”

             “I found this journal in the woods and-” Dipper reached for the pocked in his vest where he kept the Journal.  Nothing was there.  “Dang it! We were in too much of a hurry to leave; I forgot it back at the Shack!”

             “I think…” Old Man McGucket said slowly.  “I think I know what yer referrin’ to.  The book had research on the supernatural things here in Gravity Falls?”  Dipper and Mabel nodded.  A shadow crossed Old Man McGucket’s face.  “I reckon I used to know the Author.  But I can’t quite recall.  I- I can almost hear his voice, almost see his face, but I might need some time ‘fore I remember who he was.”

             “Once you remember, will you tell us who he is?” Mabel asked.

             “Only if I know the answer won’t put ya in danger. And given the lengths I’ve gone to forget him, I get the feelin’ that danger is a close friend of his.”  Old Man McGucket shook his head.  “Ya best get goin’.  My baby sister needs her memories back.”  He stared down at the memory tube in his hands.  “Y’all can leave without me.”  His fingers brushed his name on the label.  “I thought I remembered just ‘bout everything, but clearly I’ve got some left to do.”

             “Are you sure you can find your way home?” Soos asked.  Old Man McGucket chuckled.  He put the memory tube underneath his hat.

             “You’d be surprised what this ole feller can find.”

             “So is that a yes?” Soos asked slowly.  Old Man McGucket nodded.  “Oh.  Good.” Soos turned to Dipper, Mabel, and Wendy. “Let’s go bring Dr. Angie’s memories back to her!”

-----

             “All right, we’ve gotta get this to Grauntie Angie!” Dipper shouted as he burst through the door of the Gift Shop, closely followed by Mabel, Soos, and Wendy.

             “What are ya gettin’ to me?” Grauntie Angie asked. Dipper, Mabel, Soos, and Wendy froze. “If it’s a gift, ya don’t need to get me anything,” Grauntie Angie continued.  She was standing by the vending machine, whose door was currently open. “I’m just goin’ to grab m’self a quick snack ‘fore I went out.”

             “Grauntie Angie, you’re- you’re all right!” Mabel squealed in delight.  She rushed over to Grauntie Angie, tackling her in a hug.  Grauntie Angie chuckled, ruffling Mabel’s hair.

             “Were ya concerned I wouldn’t be?” she asked.

             “You’ve been bedridden for days,” Dipper pointed out.

             “Hmm, that’s true,” Grauntie Angie conceded. “But-”  She paused.  “Jesus, are you cryin’?” she asked.  Soos wiped away his tears.

             “I’m just so glad that you’re not sick anymore, Dr. Angie,” he sobbed.  Grauntie Angie tsked sympathetically.

             “Honey, ya don’t need to cry over me.  It’s okay.”

             “How’d you get better so fast?” Wendy asked. “Dipper and Mabel said you were doing really bad this morning.”  Grauntie Angie beamed at Grunkle Stan, who was closing the door to the vending machine.

             “Stanley’s just quite excellent at nursin’ me back to health,” she cooed.  She stood on her tiptoes to kiss Grunkle Stan on the cheek.  Mabel and Dipper grimaced, grossed out by the public display of affection. “Thank you fer yer help, darlin’. I better go.  Who knows what state the lake is in after I left it alone fer so long?”

             “Oh, yeah, those frogs go nuts when you’re not around to keep them in check,” Grunkle Stan replied.  Grauntie Angie giggled.  “Junior’s gonna come by in a few minutes if you wanna wait for him to give you a ride.”

             “Excellent idea, my dear.”  Grauntie Angie smiled at Dipper and Mabel.  “I’ll catch up with the two of ya later, okay?”  She left the Gift Shop, the bell over the door jingling with her exit.  Dipper turned to Grunkle Stan, who was staring at the door wistfully.

             “Seriously, how did she get better so quickly?” he asked.

             “You heard her,” Grunkle Stan said.  He grinned.  “I’m good at taking care of my wife.  Wouldn’t still be married if I wasn’t.”

             “But-” Dipper started.

             “I gotta go work on the newest exhibit,” Grunkle Stan said, talking over Dipper.  “I’ve been too busy with Angie to finish it up.”  He went through the “Staff Only” door, disappearing into the house. Dipper frowned thoughtfully.

             “Dipper,” Mabel said in a warning tone.  “I don’t like that look on your face.”

             “I can’t shake the feeling that Grauntie Angie is hiding something,” Dipper said quietly.  Mabel gasped.

             “Are you gonna watch her memories?  We promised Old Man McGucket we wouldn’t!”

             “Old Man McGucket isn’t here,” Dipper retorted. “Her memories could answer the biggest mystery in this town!”  He reached for the pocket he had put Grauntie Angie’s memory tube.  Nothing was there.  “Uh oh.”

             “Uh oh?” Mabel said.  “What’s uh oh?”

             “I don’t have her memory tube.”

             “What?!  Did you drop it somewhere?”

             “I don’t think I did!” Dipper said.  He dragged his hands down his face.  “We’ll have to retrace our steps to find it!” Wendy’s phone chirped.  She took it out of her pocket and blinked in surprise.

             “I got a text from Emily.”

             “What’s it say?” Mabel asked.  Wendy squinted at her phone’s screen.

             “Huh.  They tracked down Old Man McGucket and apparently the tube fell out of your pocket or whatever before we left.  He’s got it, so we don’t need to look for it.”

             “Oh.”  Dipper sighed.  “I guess that’s good.”

             “Uh, duh, it’s good that Dr. Angie’s memories aren’t on a sidewalk somewhere,” Wendy said, rolling her eyes. She pulled the brim of Dipper’s hat down over his eyes.  “Dork.” Dipper laughed.  “I’m gonna go wait outside with Dr. Angie.  I bet I can get Junior to give me a ride back home.”

             “Bye, Wendy!” Mabel called.  Wendy grinned and went outside.  Mabel looked at Dipper.  “Maybe it’s for the best that we accidentally left without the memory thing.  This way, you can’t sneak around and watch Grauntie Angie’s memories without permission!”  Dipper rubbed his arm, abashed.

             “Yeah,” he mumbled.  He sighed.  “I just want to find out what she’s hiding!”

             “Is she hiding anything?” Mabel asked.  “I mean, we haven’t really been able to ask her about what she knows about the Journal.”

             “Good point,” Dipper muttered.  His eyes shot open.  “The Journal!”

             “Oh, it’s over here, dude,” Soos said.  Dipper and Mabel looked over.  Soos held the Journal up in one hand.  “It was behind the checkout counter.”

             “I left it next to the register, though,” Dipper said.  Soos shrugged.

             “Maybe Mr. Pines put it somewhere a tourist wouldn’t see it and want to buy it,” he suggested.  Dipper frowned.  “Or Dr. Angie moved it.”

             “That’s more likely,” Dipper said.

             “Soos, kids!” Grunkle Stan’s voice shouted from somewhere.  “Get back to work!”  Dipper and Mabel groaned.  “I heard that!”

#Gravity Falls #Nixie AU #Dipper Pines #Mabel Pines #Soos Ramirez #Fiddleford McGucket #Wendy Corduroy #Stanley Pines #Angie McGucket #Emily Pines #Junior Pines #Stangie #Stangie Family #Amphibious Tendencies #fanfiction #my writing #my stuff #speecher speaks

[thelastspeecher]

Hi, to contribute to the HMU on the original Stanley McGucket, one thing in the sequel that I would like more light on is Fidds reintegrating with the family after escaping his cult. Especially Fidds with the kids. I remember liking an older short in the same verse with Danny time traveling and running into Fidds, I'd love more interactions between Fidds and his son, nieces & nephew. Both before and after the memory gun problem.

So...I got this ask over a year ago. I planned on doing a write for it, but that plan fell to the wayside after I got busy with other things. But then I felt like I wanted to do something for the 10 year Gravity Falls anniversary, and I felt like revisiting my OG AU, the Stanley McGucket AU, would be a good way to do so.

Anon, it took a year, but I finally wrote up some Fidds interacting with his nieces. Hope you enjoy it.

———————————————————————————————————–

              Fiddleford carefully screwed the last screw in.  He slapped the side of the air conditioning unit.  With a shudder, it came back to life.  Fiddleford sighed in relief and tucked his screwdriver into his back pocket.

              ‘Bout time.  Summer’s comin’ up.  Can’t have folks sweatin�� in the roadside attraction Stan decided to run fer some reason.  He scowled.  No, don’t think so negatively.  His business is what enabled him and Angie to take care of Tate fer so long.  In fact, Tate had only moved back in with Fiddleford last month, after Fiddleford managed to find a place and prove he could maintain it to Angie’s standards.

              “Uncle Fidds?”  Fiddleford turned around.  Danny, the older of his eight-year-old twin nieces, stood before him.  He smiled politely.  Similar to how he had only just gotten custody of Tate again, he hadn’t been allowed to be around his nieces or nephews if they were alone until he stopped having his memory lapses.  His nieces in particular were still getting used to him, so he felt the need to be on his best uncle behavior around them.

              “Did ya want somethin’ from me, honey?” he asked.  Danny clasped her hands in front of her.

              “Daddy wants to know if the air conditioner is fixed yet,” she said dutifully.  Fiddleford nodded.

              “Sure is!”

              “Oh, wow.”  Danny’s rich brown eyes, which she had inherited from her father, widened.  “Daddy’s been shouting at it for weeks and you got it fixed so fast!”

              “Why didn’t he ask fer professional help sooner, if it’s been causin’ trouble fer so long?” Fiddleford asked.  Danny shrugged.

              “Daddy says he doesn’t wanna spend money on somethin’ he can do himself.”

              “He still could’ve called me fer help.  I’m more ‘n happy to do this work fer free.  It’s the least I can do after yer parents took in Tate while I was…”  Fiddleford cleared his throat.  “Is yer dad plannin’ on payin’ me, then?”

              “Mama wants to.  Daddy doesn’t.”

              “Sounds about right,” Fiddleford muttered to himself.  One of the things Stan and Angie frequently butted heads over was Angie’s insistence on paying for things, versus Stan’s desire to spend as little money as possible.  “Well, you can tell yer dad I don’t want to be paid.  You can also tell ‘im that if yer ma tries to pay me, I’ll send the cash back.”  Danny nodded.  She cocked her head in a manner exactly like Angie.

              “How’d you fix it?” she asked slowly.

              “First, what I did was-” Fiddleford started.  He cut himself off, an idea coming to him.  “Do ya want me to tell ya or show ya?”  Danny bounced on the balls of her feet excitedly.

              “Both, please!”  Danny paused.  “Unless it ruins all yer work.”

              “Aw.”  Fiddleford gave her an affectionate noogie.  Her hair wasn’t nearly as curly as her twin sister’s, but it was just as thick, catching on his fingers.  He extracted his fingers carefully to avoid tugging.  “Sweet potata, I already fixed it once.  I can fix it again just as easy.”  Danny beamed.  Fiddleford took his screwdriver out of his pocket.

              “That’s a screwdriver, right?” Danny blurted out.

              “Yup.  Want to look closer?”

              “Yes!”  Fiddleford handed his screwdriver to his niece.  Danny looked it over with a careful eye.

              A future engineer’s eye.  Fiddleford could feel his heart swelling with pride.  She’s always liked takin’ things apart and puttin’ ‘em back together.  And the things she’s built with her blocks, why, they’re on par with what an adult could do.

              “I thought screwdrivers had X’s on the point,” Danny said slowly.

              “We call that kind of screwdriver a Phillips head screwdriver.  What ya got right there is a regular ole screwdriver, so it’s a bit different.  They work the same way, they just use dif’rent kinds of screws.”

              “Oh.  Okay!”  Danny handed the screwdriver back to Fiddleford.

              “Any other questions ‘fore we start?” Fiddleford asked.  Danny shook her head.  “Then I’ll go ahead and get started.”

              Fiddleford had managed to re-break the air conditioner and was halfway through fixing it again when his impromptu lecture was interrupted by the arrival of Danny’s twin, Daisy.

              “Daddy wants to know if the air conditioner’s fixed,” Daisy said dully.  She stared at the partially disassembled air conditioner.  “Guess not.”

              “Oh, I fixed it,” Fiddleford said.  Daisy blinked.

              “But you’re still doing stuff,” she pointed out.  She gasped.  “Are you making it better?  Like in Mama’s stories?”  Fiddleford chuckled.

              “Nope, I ain’t soupin’ it up like when I tried to upgrade things ‘round the house as a kidlet.”

              “Oh, boo.”  Daisy pouted.  “Mama said you got fire to come from the sink instead of water.”

              “Do ya want somethin’ like that?” Fiddleford asked.  Daisy shrugged.

              “Sometimes.”

              She must get those tendencies from Stan.  Angie was never destructive on purpose, she just was energetic and clumsy.  Daisy seems like she wouldn’t mind burnin’ down the house just ‘cause she’s bored.  Fiddleford smiled fondly.  Lord above, Stan and Angie are goin’ to have their hands full when Daisy takes her first chemistry course.

              “If you fixed it, why are you still doing things to it?” Daisy asked.

              “I broke it again so’s I could show yer sister how to fix it.”

              “Huh.”  Daisy frowned thoughtfully.  Her eyes, blue like Angie’s, lit up.  “Can I watch, too?”

              “Are ya sure?” Fiddleford asked.  “I didn’t think ya had an interest in machinery like yer sister.”

              “Nah.”  Daisy sat down on the floor next to her twin.  “But this is more interestin’ than playing with my brothers or helping Daddy.”

              “You like helping Daddy,” Danny said.  Daisy shrugged.

              “With the taxid- tax- taxider-”  She grunted in frustration.

              “Taxidermy,” Fiddleford supplied.  Daisy nodded.

              “That.  I like that.  Daddy’s not doing it right now, though.  He’s counting money.”

              “That’s an important part of ownin’ a business, keepin’ track of what comes in,” Fiddleford said.  Daisy rolled her eyes.

              “Yeah.  But it’s boring.  This sounds better.”  She grinned, the gap from her most recently lost baby tooth on full display.  “Machines stink, but I like you, Uncle Fidds.  You’re weird.”  Fiddleford smiled.

              “I reckon I like you too, sweetheart.”

#I've actually been rereading my Stanley McGucket fics on AO3 #(I got a couple comments on them recently and it made me want to reread them) #and rereading my flagship fic really helped inspire me to work on this ficlet #........anyways people should go read ''Stanley McGucket'' on AO3 if they haven't #it's probs my favorite fic I've done #Stanley McGucket AU #Fiddleford McGucket #Danica Pines #Daisy McGucket #Stangie Family #Gravity Falls #my writing #my stuff #ask #Anonymous

[thelastspeecher]

asked for some Input from some folks and Junior is now officially a character in my Firefighter AU. per suggestion from @vulpixen, he becomes a mechanic, specifically for the fire station.

a related Stangie child thought I had today is that Stan and Angie lose their minds a bit with Emily in the Firefighter AU. girl loves explosions and exploding things, and Angie Does Not Do Well with sudden, loud noises. not to mention, Emily has some pyro tendencies, which drives her firefighter parents up the wall.

but it all works out bc Emily studies fire science in college (instead of chemistry with a vested interest in combustion/pyrotechnics) and becomes a firefighter. she got the smarts for the science side of it and the muscles for the physical side of it.

and she apologizes for putting her parents through a low-key hell.

#Firefighter AU #Stangie Family #speecher speaks

[thelastspeecher]

For birthday prompts. Hmm... how about from Best Revenge AU where Junior talks to his birth dad Max, face to face. Or from the Nixie AU, Stan and Angie meeting their first grandbabies.

              The door opened, revealing one of Junior’s younger half-brothers.  Max wasn’t sure his name, but the boy had the distinctive McGucket nose, Stan’s thick brown curls, and was already nearing Angie’s height.

              “Junior, Mr. Hillcrest is here!” the boy called.

              “Let him in!” Junior’s voice shouted back.

              “Okay!”  The boy stood to the side, allowing Max to come inside.  Footsteps sounded.  Junior descended from a nearby staircase and walked over.

              “Emmett, I’ll take it from here,” Junior, Max’s newly sixteen-year-old son, said.  The boy, apparently named Emmett, nodded in relief and scurried away.

              “He seems like a nervous one,” Max remarked.  Junior sighed quietly.

              “Yeah.  Basically since he learned to talk, he’s been quiet and shy.”

              “Is he a super?”

              “Not yet.  But he’ll prob’ly be one.”  Junior took a deep breath.  “But I didn’t invite ya over to talk ‘bout my little brother.  I wanted to talk to ya…father to son.”  Max nodded, trying to hide his eagerness.  “Ma ‘n Dad promised to keep my sisters and brothers away from us while we talk,” Junior said.  He walked into the adjoining living room and sat down on the couch.  Max sat down next to him.

              “So-” Max started.  Junior held up a hand.  Max quieted.

              “Before we can get close like a father and son, we need to talk about why you’re not the man that raised me.”

              “I thought ya knew.”

              “I know what Ma and Dad told me.  But what they told me was their side of the story.  I won’t know everything what happened if I don’t hear yours, too,” Junior said firmly.

              “What exactly was their side of the story?” Max asked.

              “You don’t need to know,” Junior said.  Max bit back his frustration at how cagey his son was being.  “Honestly, you should be grateful I’m givin’ ya a chance to explain yourself after what my parents have told me you did.”

              “If ya feel that strongly, why are ya givin’ me this chance?” Max asked.  Junior shrugged.

              “I’m old enough to know the truth about where I came from.”  Junior’s eyes, the same warm amber as Max’s, bore into him.  “Tell me your side of the story.”

              “All right.”  Max took a deep breath.  He reached into his pocket with a hand and began to play with a small pebble he kept on his person to stay calm.  “Yer ma and I were high school sweethearts.  But after we moved out west, our relationship began to fall apart.  Lookin’ back, I know exactly when things started unravelin’.”

              “When?”

              “The first time I couldn’t save someone,” Max said solemnly.  Junior’s eyes widened.  “Yer ma told ya I was a hero, right?”  Junior nodded.  “I…there was a cave-in.  As a geokinetic, I was told to lead the charge.  And I couldn’t- I couldn’t get everyone out in time.  People died ‘cause of me.”  Max squeezed his eyes shut, the memories just as painful now as they had been years ago.  “I was haunted by it.  I kept havin’ nightmares.  Angie did her best to help me, but all her attempts just made me more paranoid.  She was the best thing in my life.  I was terrified I’d lose her too.  That’s when I started controllin’ her.”

              “Ma told me about the controlling.”

              “I now see that what I was doin’ weren’t right.  But in the moment, it was the only thing I could think to do.  I had to keep her safe.  And it- it wound up pushin’ her away.”

              “You’re leavin’ something out,” Junior said abruptly.  Max frowned at him.  “You got physical with Ma.”  Max’s blood ran cold.

              He knows?

              “Only once.”

              “Yeah.  When she tried to leave.  You physically tried to stop her.”  Anger was beginning to build in Junior’s voice now.  “You were so angry that she would leave, you grabbed her and bruised her!  She had to use her fightin’ skills to take you down so she could run!”

              “Yes,” Max said softly.  Junior blinked, visibly surprised by how meek Max was behaving.  “I did do that.  It weren’t right.  None of it was.”  Max took a deep breath.  “Junior, I ain’t tryin’ to convince ya that I was in the right.  I wasn’t.  I was wrong.  And I was too blinded by my fear and my love to see it.  I just want ya to understand why I did what I did.”

              “I understand,” Junior said.  He swallowed.  “It doesn’t make any of it okay.”

              “I know.”

              “I-”  Suddenly, Junior’s eyes welled up with tears.  “I can’t help but think about what might have happened if things had been different.  If you had been different.  Would you have raised me?  Would I have full siblings instead of half-siblings?”

              “I can’t answer that.”  Max rubbed his face.  “I don’t think it would be the happy life yer imaginin’, though.  I wasn’t- I wasn’t faithful to yer ma, and I doubt she would’ve tolerated it.”  Within a split second, Max’s cheek was stinging and there was a ringing in his ear.  Junior glared at him.  “Did- did ya just slap me?” Max asked dumbly.

              “You’re lucky it wasn’t a punch,” Junior snarled.  He stood up.  “You cheated on Ma?”

              “I’m surprised Stan didn’t tell ya that.”

              “You- you-”  Junior was actually shaking with rage.  “How could you?!”

              “I was a dif’rent person back then,” Max said.  Staying calm was growing increasingly difficult; a voice in the back of his mind was screaming that he was throwing away his only chance to connect with his son.  “A worse person.  I’ve grown ‘n become better since then.”

              “How can I believe you?” Junior demanded.  Max met Junior’s eyes.

              “Yer dad does,” he said simply.  Junior’s glare collapsed into pure shock.  “Yer ma does, too, but I figure yer dad believin’ would be the more surprisin’ thing.  He ain’t my biggest fan.”

              “No.  He’s not,” Junior mumbled.  He slowly sunk back down to the couch.  “And he doesn’t forgive easy, so-”

              “Oh, Stan hasn’t forgiven me.  He just believes that I’ve changed.”

              “Still.”  Junior chewed on his lip as he thought.  After a few moments, he sighed.  “If Dad can look past what you did, I can try to do that, too.”  Max’s heart soared.  “But we’re gonna have to take this even slower than I thought we would.”

              “I understand.  I’m just glad yer givin’ me a chance.”

              “Yeah, well.”  Junior rubbed the back of his neck and looked away.  “Don’t blow it.”

              “I won’t.”  Max managed a weak smile.  He thought back to what Jimmy had recommended he lead with.  “How ‘bout we start with gettin’ to know each other?”  Junior looked at him.  “I’m sure yer folks have told ya plenty ‘bout me.  But they ain’t told me much ‘bout you, and there’s only so much I could get from our lessons together.”

              “What in particular did ya wanna know?” Junior asked.

              “Do ya have any hobbies?”

              “I like to play soccer,” Junior mumbled.  Max grinned.  “What?”

              “I’m a fan of the game m’self,” Max said cheerfully.  A hesitant smile began to spread across Junior’s face.  “Tell me all about it.”

#whoops this was longer than I expected but I do love this AU lmao #Best Revenge AU #Max Hillcrest #Junior Pines #Stangie Family #ask #vulpixen #my writing

[thelastspeecher]

Could you do Stay-At-Home Stan when the girls are born?

I rushed to finish this up today so that I could post it on Father's Day, because I felt like this particular write needed to go up on Father's Day. Hope it's as fluffy as you wanted from this prompt!

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              Stan closed the hospital room door and returned to his seat by Angie’s bed.

              “About time they left,” he muttered.  Angie rolled her eyes.

              “Be nice.  Lute ‘n Harper ‘re just excited ‘bout their new nieces.  And can ya blame ‘em?” Angie asked.  Stan grinned over at the cribs at the foot of Angie’s bed.

              “Nah.”  He got up from his chair and walked over to the cribs.  “Danny’s sleepin’, but Daisy’s still awake.”

              “Ya can grab her then,” Angie said, but Stan was already carefully reaching into the crib to pick up his daughter.  “Yer really wantin’ to snuggle her ain’t ya?”

              “Duh.  The entire time Harper and Lute were here, they didn’t let me hold her once.”

              “At least they took some cute pictures.”

              “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”  Stan walked back to his chair and sat down.  He smiled down at his newborn daughter.  “Okay, here’s the thing.  Danny and Daisy are the most beautiful babies in the world.”

              “Yes.”

              “But…why do they look so wrinkly and squishy and red?” Stan asked.  He stroked Daisy’s cheek.  Daisy squirmed slightly at the movement.

              “That’s just how newborns look.  They’ll start lookin’ a bit more human after a lil while.”

              “TV lied to me,” Stan muttered.  Angie laughed.  “Wanna hold her?”

              “Nah, I carried her fer months.  You should get the chance to bond a bit.  But I wouldn’t mind ya scootin’ yer chair a bit closer.”

              “You got it.”  Stan moved even closer to the bed, allowing Angie to lean over and smile at Daisy.  “She’s perfect.”

              “Yes.  She is,” Angie said softly.  Daisy squirmed again.  Her six-fingered hand came free of the swaddle.  Angie frowned thoughtfully.  “I ain’t quite sure where the polydactyly came from, though.  I thought I knew every hillbilly disease what runs in my fam’ly, but I guess I didn’t.”

              “Poly-what?”

              “Polydactyly.  Her extra lil finger.”

              “Oh, that’s the name for it?” Stan asked.  Angie nodded.  “Huh.  Well, don’t worry, she doesn’t get it from you.  She gets the six fingers from me.”

              “She does?”

              “Yep.”

              “Do ya have somethin’ to tell me?” Angie asked.  Stan looked up at her.  She was staring intently at his hands.  “Were ya a polydactyl?”

              “Why are ya usin’ past tense?” Stan asked.  He shifted, uncomfortable with Angie’s expression.

              “Well, you’ve got ten fingers, so clearly ya ain’t a polydactyl now.  I know some folks with the condition get the extra digits removed, ‘specially if it ain’t a full extra finger or toe.  But ya don’t have any scars on yer hands…”

              “No, I’m- I’m not a polydactyl now and I never have been,” Stan said, his discomfort growing by the second.  “I’ve just got a relative with six fingers, that’s all.”

              “Ah.”  Instead of satiating her curiosity, however, it was obvious that Stan’s answer had only made Angie more invested in the conversation.  Her blue eyes, which Daisy had inherited, were alight with intrigue.  Thankfully, she didn’t ask the question she clearly wanted to.  “I’m glad to know where it came from, then,” she said mildly.  Stan let out a quiet sigh of relief.  Angie kissed him on the cheek.

              “You…you don’t think Daisy needs to get her finger removed, do ya?” Stan asked.  Angie’s eyes widened.

              “What?  No!  Not unless it becomes a problem later on.  But the doctor says it’s a fully functionin’ finger with nerves ‘n muscles ‘n bones ‘n all that, so it likely won’t be an issue.  And if she decides she wants it removed when she’s big enough to ask, well, we’ll revisit that.”  Stan nodded.  “But I doubt she’ll want it removed.”

              “Why?”

              “We’re goin’ to raise her right,” Angie said.  She stroked Daisy’s cheek, just like Stan did earlier.  “She won’t ever feel like she’s wrong or abnormal or anythin’ just ‘cause she’s got an extra finger.”  Stan swallowed the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat.

              “Yeah,” he choked out.  “Yeah.”  Angie clicked her tongue sympathetically.  She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, fussing sounded from Danny’s crib.  “I’ll grab her.”  Stan handed Daisy to Angie.  He got up and went over to Danny’s crib.  Danny writhed, whining loudly.  “Aw, c’mere, princess,” he cooed.  He picked Danny up.  Danny immediately quieted, staring up at him with wide, brown eyes.  Stan stroked Danny’s wispy caramel-colored hair.

              “Princess?” Angie asked.  Stan looked up at her.  Angie cocked her head, smiling.  “Is that a pet name I hear?”

              “Well, yeah.”  Stan went back to his chair and sat down.  “Danny’s my princess.”

              “What about Daisy?”

              “We can’t have two princesses.  There’ll be fightin’ over who gets to rule the kingdom,” Stan said.  Angie laughed.  “I’ll figure somethin’ else out for Daisy, don’t worry.”

              “Oh, I know ya will.”  Angie snickered.  “I’m amused how yer already slippin’ into that dad style of comedy,” Angie teased.  Stan grinned.  “But that makes sense.  Yer humor’s always been rather reminiscent of that.  Lots of puns ‘n whatnot.”

              “I was meant to be a dad.”

              “I can tell.”  Angie kissed Stan’s cheek again.  “And now, ya fin’ly are one.”

#love doing some fluff esp for this AU #this is one of my fave AUs #Stanley Pines #Angie McGucket #Stangie Family #Stangie #my writing #my stuff #ask #nelson-and-murdock #Stay at Home Stan AU

[thelastspeecher]

decided a new thing in my Nixie AU.

so, generally in AUs where the Stangie kid Caleb exists, he becomes a baker.  and that’s not different in the Nixie AU.  what is different is what exactly Caleb bakes.

he winds up opening his own bakery where he uses bugs as ingredients in his baked goods.  like, he uses cricket flour, whole crickets, grasshoppers, various worms, things like that.

his bakery is called “Creepy Crawly Creations” and his parents are very proud of him for turning his family’s fondness for bugs into a surprisingly profitable business.  Stan in particular likes to brag about his son for being so skilled at baking and selling that he’s able to make bank on something that most Americans would be thoroughly disgusted by the idea of.

#idk if it'll come up in the multichap so that's why I'm mentioning it here lmao #as I work on the multichap more I might drop some other random Nixie AU facts #Nixie AU #Stangie Family #speecher speaks

[thelastspeecher]

btw, not to jump around in the timeline of the AU or anything, but in the Pollution Powers AU, when Angie and Stan eventually decide to start a family, they only have two biological children. they have Junior, and then Angie is informed that due to her stretchy powers, additional pregnancies are not recommended for her. it would be difficult or even dangerous for her.

later, Stan and Angie adopt two orphaned baby twin girls named Danny and Daisy. the babies were orphaned as the result of an environmental accident in which there was a chemical explosion. by this point, research has been done that shows the two survivors of the accident will likely develop pollution powers due to their exposure, and no one is willing adopt them. except for Angie and Stan.

a few years later, they adopt another baby from a pregnant single woman, but after they've already gone enough through the adoption process that they feel they can't back out, Angie discovers she's pregnant with an oopsie baby. due to complications from her powers, she has serious issues and has to have an emergency C-section, resulting in a tiny lil preemie baby they name Emmett. that C-section is on the same day the woman they decided to adopt from gives birth, resulting in essentially twins for Stan and Angie!

after Junior begins attending the boarding school for polluted kids (he inherits both his parents' powers), he meets and befriends a teen girl whose parents gave up their parental rights after her power (from exposure to nuclear waste dumped off the shore of New Jersey) manifested. Stan and Angie are more than happy to take in this girl as well, and discover, to their shock, that her mother is none other than the girlfriend that dumped Stan when his power manifested: Carla McCorkle.

#thanks to vulpixen for helping with some of the stuff~ #but yeah Stangie is endgame of course and they have a family of course #but in this case the family is a mixture of biological and adopted~ #Pollution Powers AU #speecher speaks

[thelastspeecher]

in WWE AU, Angie is the one to make the first move about actually getting into a romantic relationship with Stana. Stana has a reputation for being a bit antisocial at times, and it's bc she's worried about being clocked as a trans woman. she still has a few friends, but she's not as social as Stan normally would be. and she doesn't get too close to anyone.

Angie thus has to take the initiative. when she first works her flirting magic on Stana, Stana is shocked that Angie thinks she's worth flirting with. but as per usual, Angie's able to break down Stana's walls through kindness, forming a genuine connection with her, and also being very attractive. bc Stana has definitely had a crush on Angie for a while.

their first date is to a country bar, where Angie teaches Stana how to square dance and watches her ride the mechanical bull. after, they fall for each other hard and fast.

but Stana still keeps the fact that she's trans a secret from Angie for as long as possible.

#tbh I'm not sure what is the sort of triggering incident to make Stana tell Angie #maybe she really wants to knock boots with Angie #maybe when Angie's trying to convince Stana her family is down with the LGBT #she winds up saying that one of her brothers (she won't say which one) is trans #maybe Stana gets sick of keeping the secret all to herself and wants someone to share it with her #maybe Stana decides she doesn't want to keep something so important from the woman she loves #maybe it's a combination of motivations #but of course when Stana says she's trans Angie is v accepting and supportive #and reassures her that she doesn't view Stana any differently #Stana is still the same beautiful woman she fell in love with #WWE AU #Lady Stangie #speecher speaks

[thelastspeecher]

I finally got polls so I'm making it everyone else's problem.

#when Angie wins I'll make one minus Angie akjlndsfjnkasdfs #I also wanna do one for the Stangie kids #McGucket Family #speecher speaks