Archive of Our Own ^beta

All was still.

It had been still in that particular neck of the Gravity Falls woods for almost a full year.

The residents of the nearby town knew better than to venture too close, and their sentiments were shared by the beings—animal and supernatural alike—who had formerly occupied that part of the forest. Even the Manotaurs had long since abandoned their nearby man cave—and if even the self-proclaimed representations of manliness themselves wouldn’t dare approach the area, then the rest of the population was in no hurry to do the same.

Such stillness made every step from a pair of unknown feet more prominent, twigs and foliage snapping beneath them as their hooded owner moved swiftly through the underbrush. And despite the darkness of the night sky above—with only a few stray moonbeams through the leaves of the canopy layer acting as a light source—their pace was quick and undisturbed as they ventured deeper into the woods, only broken once they finally arrived at their destination.

A destination in the form of a triangle-shaped statue, half-embedded in the soft earth.

The forest had clearly made several attempts to claim it. Twisting vines had curled themselves around the limbs like the ribbons on a present, and the patches of stone that were usually exposed to the sun's rays during the day were now illuminated with a soft glow from the moon’s gentle gaze.

But despite nature’s best efforts, it still remained.

Remained with an open hand on a permanently-outstretched arm. 

Waiting for the day someone finally came along to make a deal.

The mysterious figure stood still for a few minutes, their own gaze locked on the singular eye that made up most of the triangle’s face. And after another minute of staring, their footsteps—those still-shattering footsteps—began again, this time to close the gap between them and the statue.

And once that gap was properly closed, the figure’s own arm extended towards the statue—

—and an orange, feathered hand clasped around its stone one.

There was a faint spark in the triangle’s single eye—the first sign of life it had shown in months—before the figure vanished in a flash of light, that little bit of life fading back to nothing with their departure.

And much like the statue itself, all fell still again.

— — — — — — —

“You’re a real wise guy, but you made one fatal mistake! You messed with my family!”

“ YOU’RE making a mistake! I’ll give you anything: money, fame, riches, infinite power, your own galaxy! PLEASE ! NO ! What’s HAPPENING to me?!”

“!NRUTER YAM I TAHT REWOP TNEICNA EHT EKOVNI I !NRUB OT EMOC SAH EMIT YM, L-T-O-L-O-X-A-”

“STAN- LEEEEEEY —”

The first thing Bill was able to process was the fact that he was still screaming.

The second was that he was able to scream at all.

Despite the lack of a mouth (or lungs, if some nerd wanted to get annoyingly technical with the anatomy of a triangle), Bill’s chest rose and fell at a hyperventilating pace, his singular pupil rapidly darting back and forth as he took in his surroundings.

He was lying flat on his back with his face pointed upwards, although a closer examination revealed that an attempt to label any three-dimensional directions would be entirely pointless. Usually pretty hard to have an ‘up’ or ‘down’ when all that surrounded you was an endless, white void. Usually.

He rose up from what could be considered the ground, and hovered in place for a moment. It was the mindscape, that much he could deduce at a glance alone. And a grateful lack of the Mystery Shack living room—or a furious, elderly man about to punch him into oblivion—implied it was highly unlikely that he was still inside the mind (or whatever was left of the mind) of Stanley Pines.

But if not his mindscape, then where—

“Oh, hey, you’re here!”

The sound of an unknown voice behind him spun Bill around in midair, with far less dignity than he would’ve preferred. “Hey pal, who d’you—think…”

Any potential anger that might’ve been building vanished in an instant as Bill got a good look at the peculiar being before him. 

First obvious thing of note was that they were clearly not human. Rather, they looked to be some sort of anthropomorphic duck or duck-like creature—similar to the ones from the dimensions with that annoying rat who liked to get a bit too pushy with how he ran things. Quantum Destabilizer to his head regarding the specific breed of duck, however—they were probably some kinda shelduck? He was pretty sure those had orange feathers.

They were also about five-feet tall by mortal measurements, and the garish color of their feathers was only outshined by their eccentric clothing choices. The first part of their outfit to draw Bill’s eye was their jacket; an extremely tacky windbreaker composed of a multitude of colors in light pastel shades. Paired alongside with a radically-patterned shirt, sporty red shades, and a necklace with a charm in the shape of an orange, they looked to be the poster child of the word ‘hideously tacky’. 

Either that, or ‘retro’. 

…Eh, he’d settle for ‘hideously retro.’ 

“Glad to see you’re up and about,” the duck continued as they took a few steps closer to him. “Honestly, I had no idea if shaking your hand was actually going to work, after everything that happened to you. I mean, getting set on fire? Shattered into pieces? Erased from existence?!”

They stopped and tapped their bill thoughtfully. “Plus there’s the fact that your actual resting place was somewhere completely different—” Their hand moved to the side of their bill with a cheeky grin. “—and whew, buddy, as much as I wouldn’t mind waiting around for a man like ~that~ to get back to town, I have a million things I need to do today and don’t need to make it a million-and-one!”

Smiling wider, they reached up to nudge at him with their elbow. “Eh, eh, know what I mean?” they asked with a wink, before letting their arm fall again. “Nah, I guess you wouldn’t. The point is, it worked! Because here you are, back and better than ever!”

Before Bill could get even a word in, they raised a finger. “Okay, so I know you probably have a looooot of questions to ask,” they said, and began to tick off the remaining fingers on their hand. “Who am I? How I do know so much about you? Why did I bring you here in the first place?” 

The ticked off fingers morphed into a roll of the wrist. “Yadda, yadda, yadda, point is, you probably have a ton of questions that need answers. Well, lucky for you, that’s exactly what I’m here to do!”

A pause. “Well, not here here, we’ll have to wait until we’re actually in my office before I explain the situation more clearly,” they clarified. “Accidentally left all my flashcards and presentation material in there, and if I try to cover all the basics without ‘em, I know I’m going to forget something important. And that'd just be really inconvenient for everyone involved! But once we’re there, I promise I’ll tell you everything you need to know!”

Smiling wider, they folded their hands together and stared at him; a likely indication that they had finished talking. And if that wasn’t enough, they quickly confirmed with: “Sorry, I know that was probably a lot to take in, but I’m done for now if you have anything you wanna add.”

It took a lot to surprise Bill Cipher.

With his vast collection of knowledge, near-perfect omniscience, and countless other abilities that had brought whole dimensions to their knees, it was a rarity for him to come across anyone or anything that might actually catch him off guard.

All that aside—

—heh?

Credit where it was due, Birdbrain wasn’t wrong about the amount of questions currently bubbling around in his brain. Accuracy of their questions was also pretty spot on, although it didn’t take a genius to guess the answer of that last one.

There was only one reason anyone ever sought him out, and it wasn’t to trade fashion tips (although it was hardly necessary in this case; the guy looked like a sentient arcade carpet straight outta the Dimension That’s Perpetually Stuck In A Heavily Romanticized Version of the Mid-Eighties-Slash-Early-Nineties).

They were looking to make a deal.

If Bill had a mouth, he’d be smirking at the thought. Boy, back less than two minutes and he already had some chump lining up to make a deal with him! Had he suddenly transformed into a stupid human child leaving a medical checkup, one being rewarded for the state of their unimpressive and fragile immune system with a piece of cheap candy? Because it sounded an awful lot like he was being handed a free sucker.

And while normally he’d snatch up a chance like that without a second thought—

"You made one fatal mistake..."

He tensed as Stan’s words forced themselves back to the front of his mind, along with the vivid memory that accompanied them. The sinking feeling of realization as he came face to face with the wrong twin. The panic blossoming in tandem with the flames engulfing Stan's mind, ones eager to swallow both of them in their destruction.

The agonizing pain as his entire being violently shifted between forms in a desperate attempt to escape, before a single punch from Stanley’s fist shattered him like glass—

“You’re a lot quieter than I was lead to believe.”

And suddenly the duck was leaning uncomfortably close to his form, a studious expression on their face as they stared him up and down. “Did I do something wrong?” they asked. “Pretty sure I just needed to shake your hand to make a deal, right? Unless someone happened to change the rules while I wasn’t looking.” 

With a huff, they placed their hands on their hips and stared off in one direction of the white void. “I will say that if they did, it was a real jerk move!” they called out in a mildly-scolding tone. “I spent months doing as much research on you I could, and if I did all that prep work only for something new to come out just as we start talking, then I’m gonna be pretty annoyed!”

While the duck rambled on, Bill floated backwards from them with an indignant glare. Only time he was fine with people getting that close to him was when he was the one invading their personal space.

Although they raised a good point; he was being far too quiet. 

Even the deadest silence spoke volumes and the last thing he needed was for them to potentially backtrack on the idea of making a deal at all.  Unpacking everything else could come later, he couldn’t afford to pass up a chance to make a deal with some obviously-willing sucker.

In the meantime, he had to throw them at least one bone. Or, them being a duck and all, at least one breadcrumb. 

Ha. Hilarious.

Another shift of his pupil as he looked them up and down. Well, if they really wanted him to add to the conversation, there was nowhere better to start than with the obvious. “Sorry, Birdbrain, guess I kinda short-circuited just from staring at the war crime in fifty-seven dimensions you call an outfit,” he said aloud, raising a hand to shield his eye. “Yeesh! Forget an eyesore, I’m getting a full-body ache just by looking at you!”

Yeah, that’d work.

In all honesty, their fashion sense was actually right up Bill’s alley. Bright, tacky colors that made it difficult to stare at the person wearing them for too long? Hideous, brilliant, absolutely something he could see himself wearing if the situation called for it.

But it wasn’t like they needed to know that, and hey; they called it low-hanging fruit for a reason.

Surprisingly enough, the duck actually smiled with amusement at his little quip. “Oh, well, the shirt was a gift from a friend,” they explained, and gently gripped the edge of their windbreaker. “But I got the jacket in the Dimension That’s Perpetually Stuck In A Heavily Romanticized Version of the Mid-Eighties-Slash-Early-Nineties. It’s my favorite place to shop for clothes~!”

It was almost scary how well he could read people sometimes. “Yeah, no kidding,” he said with a cackle. “Didja wake me up so I could point you in the direction of somewhere to buy clothes from this decade?”

“No, no, my fashion sense is a choice,” they said, holding up a finger. “But that’s not what we’re here to discuss! As I said before, I’ll be able to explain everything once we’re in my office. So we—oh, wait, hold on a sec.”

The duck clapped their hands together, and as they did (and as Bill watched), matching pillars began to rise up from the ‘ground’. They continued to expand upwards—slowly curving into each other to form an upside-down horseshoe—and before long, a tall, curved archway towered above them. 

The archway’s appearance was fairly unordinary, with the only exception being a small sign at the very top center, labeled with nothing but a clear picture of an orange (or was it a tangerine? Eh, details; a fruit was a fruit). And at a glance, nothing lay beyond the other side aside from the continuation of the endless void. 

At least nothing that could be seen by the naked eye.

…Which meant there was a ninety-percent chance that there was plenty to see with an experienced eye.

“There we go,” the duck said. “This will lead us to the main part of my mind, aka my office. There, we can go over all the terms and conditions of the deal I wanna make with you!”

They flashed him a bright grin. “Like I said, forgot all my flashcards and stuff in there, and I’d rather not go over everything without them.”

Without waiting for a response from him, they hurried forward through the archway. As Bill had initially suspected, they seemed to vanish into thin air as they passed beneath it; a confirmation that the archway was really some kind of door to the deeper parts of their mind.

Rather than immediately follow after them, Bill instead turned his attention back to the endless void while he gathered his thoughts.

Okay, a quick assessment of his current situation; Punched in face. Exploded. Died. Woke up to a badly-dressed duck—one who clearly had more than a couple of screws loose in a way that teetered the line between hilarious and annoying —looking to make a deal.

The latter was hardly the weirdest thing to ever happen to him. Probably didn’t crack the top hundred, or even the top thousand. A talking duck in tacky clothing? Just another Sñeaturday night for him.

The former, however—

One fatal mistake.

His eye flashed red with abhorrence as Stan’s words once again hammered against the inside of his skull. In his desperation to shatter the barrier around the town, to put a stop to anything that would keep him from being finally, truly free—

—he’d foolishly miscounted the number of fingers on a hand.

His own hands balled into fists as the implications behind Stan’s oh-so-clever little plan finally started to take hold. No—not Stan’s plan. There was no way some two-bit con-man with daddy issues had been able to string together enough (likely-pickpocketed) braincells to come up with such an elaborate plan on his own. And even if Stan hadn’t outright admitted to disguising himself as Ford, it didn’t take a genius to guess that he hadn’t pulled the stunt by himself. It took two to tango, and it also took two twins to swap places with each other.

And if one twin had been in charge of lulling him into their trap, that left the other free to pull the trigger on the gun.

One fatal mistake. One fatal mistake—

Ford had never planned on giving him the equation at all! He’d been deceived, tricked, played for a fool—

—and the worst part is that it had worked.

After all the knowledge he had provided to Ford over the years, after everything he had promised him in their success, he had thrown it all the way for the sake of his…his stupid family!

What a fool he was, and what a fool Bill had been for ever considering him a valuable and trustworthy ally in his plans.

And thanks to Ford’s betrayal, it was almost certain that things had settled back to normal in the mortal realm, with every trace of the Nightmare Realm being forcibly pulled back into the decaying dimension they called home. 

Which meant Bill certainly wouldn’t be getting a hero’s welcome once he returned. He’d promised his buddies a party that stretched on until the end of time, not some half-baked event that only last a few, measly human days. Even if everything was the fault of that ungrateful jerk and his stupid family, Bill would still be the one dunked headfirst into a bowl of multidimensional salsa the second he stepped foot back into the realm.

Thanks to Ford and his stupid family, he had no more backup attempts, no more portals, no Henchmaniacs, no more suckers he could puppet around or trick into doing his dirty work—

Thanks to Ford, he had nothing.

“By the way, I should probably let you know—”

“ACK!”

Bill was once again flung backwards out of sheer surprise as the duck’s head poked back out of the portal. A motion that earned an apologetic laugh from them, their hand also appearing out of the archway as they pressed it to their bill. “Sorry! Sorry, I forgot to tell you something important!” 

Bill narrowed his eye at them. “You know, you’ve got a real knack for sneaking up on people, Birdbrain,” he said, muffling his annoyance with a laugh. “Can’t pretend I’m not impressed, though. If you were some slithering, poisonous snake in the grass and I a pathetic, unsuspecting human full of vulnerable red blood cells and no immunity to venom, I’d probably be dead by now!”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” the duck said proudly. “But what I wanted to tell you was that even if you aren’t interested in making a deal, you’ll need to come in and let me know.”

Both hands were now outside the archway, raised in a shrug. “You know, just so I can pop you back, no harm, no foul?”

Their arms fell along with their expression as they peered closer at him. “Hey, is everything okay?” they asked. “I realize I’m probably moving a little too fast, especially after what happened in the last mind you were in. So I can understand any hesitance on your part…”

They cast him a look of sympathy, hands clasped together as they stepped all the way back out into the white void. “And if you need some time to think it over, I’ll understand. I know I said earlier I had other things I needed to be doing today, but that was all talk! We can take as long as you need to decide.”

Bill’s eyebrow narrowed at their concern. Hey, just because they were right about his hesitance didn’t mean he had to actually admit to that being the case. Especially not now that they’d caught onto that hesitation twice. Once was easy to pass off as their mind playing tricks on them. Twice was a bit more difficult, though not impossible. Especially not when you were a master at twisting a conversation to your favor.

Another joke at their expense would probably do the trick. Clothing was out, he’d already poked fun at their hideous style and stretching a bit too thin always came with the risk of the tormented building an immunity through overexposure. Not that Birdbrain had exactly been bothered by—

Hmm. 

That could work.

With a chuckle, he raised a hand in the air to summon his cane. “Hehe, I don’t know what all that research told you, Birdbrain, but if you’re really standing there and trying to imply that I might be nervous about making a deal—” 

After giving it a little twirl, he jabbed the end of the cane against their arm. Not so hard that it would hurt, but with just enough force to make them wonder if harm had been the intent. “—you must not know me as well as you think you do~!”

He paused, and reached up to tap one of his sides thoughtfully. “Speakin’ of knowing people, though, I know you’re all eager to get to your big fancy-schmancy brain office to tell me what’s what,” he said. “But normally when I go dumpster-diving into someone’s mind, I at least like to catch their name first.”

He delivered another poke to their arm with his cane and batted his eyelashes at them. “Unless Birdbrain is your actual name and I’m just the Multiverse’s best guesser~?" he asked. "…I mean, I’ll probably still call you Birdbrain after I get a name, but it’s always nice to have options, y’know?”

There, a nice excuse that also doubled as a half-truth; not once in the entire conversation had Birdbrain actually given him a name. And while he and the concept of truthfulness weren’t exactly on speaking terms, half-truths were the redheaded stepchildren he was happy to associate with their presence was required for his own benefit.

If the duck had actually been bothered by either jab from his cane, or if they hadn’t been fooled by his attempt to shift the conversation, they showed no indication of such in their expression. 

If anything, their smile only widened further at his request. “Oh, that’s actually a good point!” they agreed, and pressed a hand to their forehead. “Got so caught up in the details that I almost forgot to introduce myself! And knowing me, I would’ve gone through my whole presentation and not even thought about it!”

They paused for a moment to think. “Plus my research indicates that you aren’t a member of the fae so I see no risk in getting my name stolen if I give it to you,” they pointed out, with a glare to their side. “Unless that was something else that someone forgot to tell me ahead of time?”

Bill’s eye shifted thoughtfully towards the same direction, as if he expected to see someone else with them in the mindscape. Unsurprisingly, there was nothing more than the white void he had already grown used to seeing around them.

Once again, that wasn’t an indication that there was nothing to see, but that was something to worry about later. “Tempting, but I’ll set the idea aside for a rainy day.” He gave them a wink, or as best of a wink as one could give with one eye. “Or maybe for when I just get bored and feel like experimenting with something new~! Haven’t done that in a while, might be fun!”

The duck tapped their chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, let’s see. Which name I prefer depends on the person, but I think…” They held up a finger, eyes bright with inspiration. “Yeah, I think you can call me Tangy!”

“Tangy, huh?”

Bill’s gaze shifted knowingly between their feathers, necklace, and finally moved back to the sign on the archway. Guess he’d thought that low-hanging fruit joke way too soon.

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead and tease if you want,” Tangy said amusedly, as if they knew exactly what he was thinking. “I never claimed to be subtle when it comes to the way I present myself.” They held up a hand and wiggled their fingers at him. “Plus my feathers already smelled like tangerines before I took on the name, so it was even more perfect~!”

After giving their hand a sniff, they let their arm fall back to their side. “Well, I’ve given you my name. Guess all that’s left is for us to get this show on the road!” they said, tilting their head at him. “Unless you really do need more time to think it over? I promise I’m not here to judge if you do!”

Boy, they weren’t letting up on that, were they? “Sounds to me like you need more time to think it over than I do,” he pointed out, and cutely pressed a hand to his cheek. “What, are you scared to make a deal with wittle ol’ Bill~?”

“Not particularly,” Tangy assured him with a laugh. “Although I would’ve appreciated the extra time to gather my presentation materials together.”

They held up a finger. “But, if you’re so sure that you’re ready, then let’s go!”

They ducked back through the archway, once again leaving Bill with nothing but his own thoughts. He cast another look towards the void again, unsurprised by the fact that there was still nothing (or no one) to see.

He stared for a moment more, before a devilish laugh began to bubble inside him. Boy, that old geezer must’ve punched him harder than he’d realized if he’d actually been shaken enough to worry, even for a brief moment. What was he thinking, getting so worked up about his situation when some tacky bird was practically throwing themselves at him for a deal? A deal that would probably be child’s play for him to complete, leaving him with a whole favor on their end. 

Plus, what was an anthropomorphic duck in tacky clothing but a human with feathers, and tacky clothing? If he played his cards right, he could easily end up with a sparkling new vessel to parade around in while he cleaned his wounds and regained his footing.

Heck, if he really played his cards right, there was always a chance for him to try his hand at another Weirdmageddon. One that would actually succeed this time around.

His features twisted into a wicked, metaphorical grin. And maybe with the right persuasion, he could convince Birdbrain to include a lovely reunion with Stanford and the rest of the Pines family in their deal. Maybe even a reunion that involved peeling each of them apart like human bananas. Layer by layer, skin from muscle from vein from bones. Until they were all nothing but writhing blobs of flesh, unable to do anything but scream in endless, agonizing pain. What's wrong, Fordsy, you can't erase someone out of existence because your arm's a pile of fleshy goop? Too bad! Or perhaps he'd go the more traditional route of stabbing them with sharp objects, and using their organs to fill a piñata for his return party~! Whack a paper-mache horse, get Shooting Star's left lung!

All delightful fantasies to imagine, but nothing more than that for the time being. Oh well, something to pocket for later.

With a satisfied expression, he adjusted his bowtie and hovered forward through the archway—

—only to be greeted hard and fast by the unforgiving ground he splattered against on the other side.

There was a gasp nearby, followed by the sound of webbed feet slapping against a tiled floor. “Oops! Probably should’ve warned you about that!”

With a groan, Bill lifted the front of his body up from the floor and cast a nasty look to Tangy. Their hand was extended forward for him to take, and their beak curled into an apologetic smile. “Sorry,” they said with a chuckle. “Completely forgot to mention the faint shift in your natural abilities as you step into this part of my mind. It’s a little jarring, but otherwise harmless and the effects should wear off pretty quickly.”

Their offered hand was ignored as Bill floated fully back up into the air. “That’s a real cute trick, Birdbrain,” he said, and dusted off his front. “Although a bit rude on your guest’s behalf, don’t you think?”

He moved close to their face, features once again stretched into the mouthless-equivalent of a smile. “I mean, I don’t call you over to my place and make you trip on your way through the front door, do I?”

Despite the sudden intrusion of their personal space, Tangy’s expression didn’t change. “No, I’d imagine you’d do something much worse,” they pointed out. “Like make the door lead to the Unnaturally-Moist Dimension, or something equally as cursed.”

Bill folded his arms with a thoughtful look. “Unnaturally-Moist Dimension, huh? Creative, I’ll give you that one.”

“I thought you’d like it,” Tangy said with a laugh. “Browsing your records for months straight gave me a pretty good feel of the kind of guy you are. I swear, sometimes I even see triangles when I close my eyes!”

To emphasize their point, they closed their eyes for a few seconds and pointed a finger to their temple. “Yep! They’re there!”

They opened their eyes again. “Anyway, did we want to get started on the deal, then?”

“Gotta be honest, Birdbrain, I can’t exactly accept or deny a deal if I don’t even know what the terms and conditions are,” Bill pointed out. “So howz'about we discuss all that first?”

Tangy smiled wide at his suggestion. “A very fair point! I can’t expect you to accept my deal if you don’t even know what I want!” they said, and spun on their heels to face the other direction. “Tell you what, you go ahead and make yourself at home at my desk area while I get your file, and then we can start our discussion. I knew I forgot something from upstairs, I swear, I’m just a mess today!”

As they hurried away from him with a visible spring in their step, Bill took the opportunity to examine his new, new surroundings. 

The endless white void had been replaced with some sort of observatory combined with a records office. The room was wide and cylindrical with tan walls on all sides, and there were two distinct levels between the floor and the cornice connected to the domed roof above their heads.

The lower level was open and empty, save for a simple workspace at the far left side of the room comprised of a desk, wastebasket and office chair. The area were a mess compared to the rest of the room—the surface was littered with papers and folders, a mug of some unknown liquid, and a closed laptop adorned in bright and cutesy stickers, while the wastebasket on the floor was overflowing with several pieces of crumpled paper.

The upper layer—on the other hand—was a full observation deck. One that circled around the room’s entirety, with both halves coming together at a spiral staircase on the opposite end of the room, and one that Tangy had bounded towards after putting a pause on their conversation. The walls along the platform were lined with tall filing cabinets that stretched from the ground to the diameter line of the domed ceiling.

And rather than any sort of sky beyond the glass, the view looked to be shimmering sea water. As if the entire ‘office’ was situated at the bottom of the ocean, with only a few schools of colorful fish adding some contrast to the endless blue.

“Let me know if you have any requests for the mood lighting,” Tangy called from the spiral staircase. “Normally I keep it neutral in case the boss wants to pay me an unscheduled visit, but if you want, I can just—”

They clapped their hands together, and the ocean view above immediately shifted to a bright, retro scene of shifting shapes and colors, one that could rival their outfit in terms of tackiness. “Or if you want something a little more personal, I can change it to—” Another clap, and the retro shapes melted into a mess of raging hellfire and bloody hail that thundered hard against the glass. “Again, taking any and all requests, so just let me know if you got ‘em!”

Bill had remained silent as Tangy prattled on—eye fixed on the ever-changing scenery outside the dome—before his pupil shifted down to the workspace area. He hovered towards it, while the sound of filing cabinet drawers being opened and closed from somewhere on the upper level echoed throughout the room. “Just give me a moment, I know it’s around here somewh—a-HA!”

There was a loud BANG of a drawer being slammed shut, before a sudden blur of orange came barreling down from the observation deck towards the ground below. At first, Bill expected-slashed-hoped that Tangy would splatter against the floor at Mach speed, if for no other reason than the visual comedy aspect.

A duck splattering against the floor? Why, that was straight out of a vintage cartoon, one where talking animals were allowed to inflict horrific acts of violence on each other. Such a fun period of time in animation history, one of his personal favorites if he really had to pick. It was such a shame that Cipher Symphonies never took off past the first episode—his interactions with Tangy were giving him a few ideas for a long-awaited reboot!

Unfortunately for him (and luckily for Tangy), their body came to an instant stop in midair, less than half an inch from the floor. With an exhale of relief, they stretched a webbed foot down to give the tiles below a gentle tap, and the rest of their body finished the fall at a more manageable speed.

An expected outcome, given the mindscape setting. But Bill couldn’t help but be disappointed at the lack of a splattered duck on the floor.

“Sorry for making you wait,” Tangy said, giving the file in their hand a light shake. “This should’ve been under ‘C’ for ‘Cipher’, I have no idea how it ended up in the T section! Guess someone must’ve slipped it into the wrong drawer or something.”

They let out a small chuckle as they seated themselves in the chair behind the desk. “Well, no matter. Let’s go ahead and get this started—”

They paused, and looked to him again. “Oh, wait, you’d probably want a seat of your own for this, wouldn’t you?”

With a gesture of their hand, a empty chair appeared on the other side of the desk for Bill. “Once again; just let me know if you’d prefer anything different,” they said. “Throne, bean bag chair—”

They made little squirming motions with their fingers. “—recliner stuffed with bugs so you always feel something wiggling whenever you sit down?”

This got a laugh out of Bill as he sank into the offered chair. “Once again, very creative,” he said, folding his hands atop his cane. “You really know how to treat a shape in this place, huh?”

“Well, I do like my clients to be as comfortable as possible,” Tangy explained. “It makes them so much more agreeable when it comes to dealmaking.”

Bill raised his eyebrow. Clients with an S, huh? Interesting, and worth questioning. “Oh, so I’m not the first interdimensional, all-powerful being you’ve brought here?” He pressed his hand to his forehead with a dramatic flair. “Aww, well, now my feelings are hurt, Birdbrain. And here I thought I was special~!”

“Don’t worry, you are!” Tangy assured him, with a tilt of their head. “You’re the first interdimensional, all-powerful being I’ve brought here. The other interdimensional beings I’ve brought here were far less powerful than you are.”

They clapped their hands together. “Which is why I’m especially excited to have you visiting me today! I’ve never had the chance to make a deal with someone like you before!”

Wow, they were laying it on pretty thick, weren’t they? To the point that there was a decent chance they were just trying to butter him up.

Still, Bill wasn’t one to turn down a free compliment. “Sheesh, kid, you’re gonna make me blush,” he said with feigned modesty. “I mean, by all means, keep up the flattery. But normally I only get this red if someone catches me in the process of peeling off my exoskeleton.” 

He waggled a finger in their direction. “Heyyy, his little deal of yours wouldn’t happen to involve you trying to get me outta my skin, would it~?” he asked with a wink, then let out a small chuckle. “...That was a wink, by the way. In case you couldn’t tell.”

“Don’t worry, I understood the intent,” Tangy assured him. “Although to answer your question honestly: No, that is not what my deal entails. Besides, I’m much older than you are.”

Oh, they were, were they? Another interesting tidbit to tuck away in the old brain vault for later. “Fair enough, I wouldn’t be interested anyway,” Bill said, leaning back in his chair. “So what kind of deal are you looking to make, Birdbrain? Wanna be rich? All-powerful?”

A beat. “…Taller?”

Hey, just because they were keen on dishing out the compliments didn’t mean he had to reciprocate.

“As tempting as that last one is, I’ll pass this time,” Tangy said. “But to be honest, I didn’t just bring you here so you could make a deal with me. I mean, I guess I technically did, but—”

They moved a hand to Bill’s file on the desk and flipped it open. “Point is, this deal is less about what I want, and mostly about what you want.”

Well, if that didn’t shoot Bill’s eyebrow so far up his face that it was a miracle it didn’t fly away of its own accord. So they were just jumping straight to that point on their own without him having to guide them there himself, huh? It wasn’t enough to lower his guard completely, but he couldn’t help but give them an intrigued look. “Oh? And what is it that I want exactly?”

Tangy turned their attention to the file. “Well, according to this; lots of things!” they said, tracing their finger beneath the words on one page. “A physical form that will allow you to escape your dimension and rule the mortal realm with an iron—and three-dimensional—fist. Some form of revenge on the people who stopped you from doing that the last time you tried—”

They let their eyes travel across the page for a moment, before confusion painted their features. “—the world’s silliest silly straw?”

Bill let out a hearty laugh. “That’s right, I’d almost forgotten about that one! One of the few things I gotta give humans credit for; they sure can silly a straw!”

He folded his arms. “But in all seriousness, it’s pretty low on the list of things I’d make a deal over,” he said. “You’re on the right track with those first two options, though. So if we really wanna get this show on the road—”

“Ah, ah, not so fast!” 

Tangy held up a finger. “I might know what you want, but you haven’t even heard my terms of the deal yet!”

Despite his best efforts, Bill's nonexistent smile fell in a suspicious instant. “Pretty sure you just said this whole deal was about what I wanted?”

“I said it was mostly about what you wanted,” Tangy reminded him. “But there are a few things I’d like to gain out of our exchange for myself.”

They cradled their chin in their hands. “I mean, it wouldn’t exactly be a deal if only one side got what they wanted, would it?” they asked. “It’d be more like—I don’t know—me just giving you a gift without expecting anything in return?”

A shrug. “A nice gesture, but not something that requires all this extra effort,” they pointed out. “In that case, I could’ve simply left a present next to your statue and been done with it!”

Bill rolled his eye. An annoying point, but a fair one. Even if he would’ve absolutely preferred a free offering without being expected to give anything in return. “Well, what do you want out of the deal, then?”

Tangy’s beak widened into an excited smile and clapped their hands twice. Immediately the scenery around them changed; the lights in the room were snuffed out in an instant and the grotesque, hellish scenery beyond the glass above transformed into a calm, starry night. Another series of claps, and a large projection screen appear behind them in midair, followed shortly by a film projector at the other end of the room. With a pleased expression, Tangy rolled their chair around the desk and moved towards the empty space beside Bill. “I have a short promotional film prepared,” they explained. “After the dozenth-or-so client, it gets exhausting repeating myself over and over.”

They leaned closer to him and gave him a knowing wink. “Plus this way I can offer my guests refreshments while they watch! I heard someone was a fan of Time-Punch? I might have a few bottles on hand, if you’re interested?”

Bill's eye had once again been fixed on the changing scenery above their heads, but his expression fell into something more pleased at the mention of Time Punch. “Well, now, if you’re going to go and offer me something like that, then how's a guy supposed say no?” he asked, tucking one hand behind his head while making a gesture with the other to proceed.

There was a snap of Tangy’s fingers and a small, floating martini glass appeared in the air near Bill, one immediately followed by a bottle of sparkling liquid. “I think a glass of Late 2020 would be to your liking,” they said. “It’s supposed to be a very weird year.”

Bill’s eye lit up. “Ooh, that’s the year the plague makes a comeback, isn’t it?”

“Indeed it is,” Tangy said, while the bottle poured its contents into Bill’s glass. “I opted for the back half of the year, after things really began to kick into overdrive.”

Once the glass was full, Bill took it in his hand and gave the contents an expert swirl, before raising it to his eye for a sip. “Oh yeah, that’s the kind of savoriness you only get from media fatigue, toilet paper hoarding, and…”

There was a pause, followed by a smacking sound as he determined the taste. “Huh, almost forgot about the murder hornets.”

“Yeah, kind of a wild thing to throw out there while everything else was going on,” Tangy agreed.

While Bill took another sip, Tangy gestured to the projector and the screen before them lit up with the image of a vintage countdown timer. Once it ticked down to zero, the screen fell dark again for a moment before the first scene appeared.

A random, humanoid man raced into view from the right side of the screen. His appearance was disheveled and worn—as if he’d been previously fighting some difficult battle—and his features twisted with defeat and fury.

He slowed his run to a gradual stop, ducking behind a wall and sinking down to the ground in an exhausted, sitting position. As he pressed a hand to his head, a booming voice (one that echoed throughout the domed room around them) began to speak offscreen. “Greetings! Have you ever found yourself in a situation like this gentleman right here?”

The camera zoomed in on the man’s face, as he glared at the person behind the camera with a look of pure malice. “Hey now, there’s no need to look at me like that, pal,” the voice continued cheerfully. “The state you’re in right now is all your doing! You ticked off the wrong people, maybe you burned all the bridges with your family and friends. You’re a loser—”

On the screen beside the man flashed the word ‘LOSER’ in a wacky font. “—a CHUMP—” Another word in wacky font appeared on the opposite side of him. “—an absolute SUCKER—”

Before the third word could appear above his head, the man waved the text away in a blur of colors. “Can we get to the point?” he asked with a scowl.

“You’ve hit rock bottom with no way to climb back out,” the voice continued. “Or so you think~!”

The camera panned out, and suddenly Tangy appeared onscreen with an excited flourish. “Lucky for you, there’s a way to get your life back on track!” they said eagerly. “Introducing—”

With a wave of their hands, the title of the short film appeared over the two of them in big, orange—(Bill side-eyed the actual Tangy at this, who merely shrugged. “Listen, I like what I like.”)—letters of the same font as before:

“The Shelduck’s Game.”

Bill’s eyebrow rose with curiosity. The first thing to catch his eye was the word ‘shelduck’ (so Birdbrain was a shelduck, huh? Called that one.), but what really piqued his interest was the specific use of the word ‘game’.

Though a deal of a different name, a game possessed enough unique characteristics to justify the use of a separate word. A game implied challenges, rules…

More enticingly, a game implied a prize to be won.

The Tangy on the screen continued to speak as the text faded: “That’s right; The Shelduck’s Game! A fun-filled game for beings of all types across the Multiverse, and a chance for you to pull yourself out of the doldrums and get your life back on track!”

The scene transitioned with a screen wipe to a simple, crudely-drawn animation of Tangy and the unnamed man. “The Shelduck’s Game is so simple and easy to play, a child could do it!” the overlaid voice from before continued. “Not that we get a lot of children playing this game, but they could if they really wanted to!”

The actual Tangy leaned closer to Bill. “Yeah, not a lot of kids end up hitting rock bottom in the way most of my clients do,” they explained in a whisper. “And on the off chance that they do, they’re usually pulled out of it by the power of friendship or whatever by the time I’m able to arrive on the scene.”

A shrug. “Still, I am here if they ever need my help.”

Bill rolled his eye and turned his attention back to the film. “How does this game work, you may be asking yourself?” the voice asked, while the animated stand-in of the man shrugged with cartoonish uncertainty. “Well, as we said before, it’s so simple that even a child could figure it out! And that’s because—”

The crudely drawn Tangy gestured widely, and the scene transitioned to the two of them playing a random board game. “—the Shelduck’s Game is always suited to fit the specific player’s needs and personality!”

The board game shifted to a chessboard. “Are you a fan of chess?” Then a checkerboard. “Or perhaps checkers is more your speed?” The board disappeared completely. “Or maybe you’re not a fan of board games at all! We’ve got plenty of other options!”

Another scene transition, and the man was now hiding behind a tree while Tangy could be seen searching for him in the background. “There are countless games to be played in the Shelduck’s Game,” the voice continued. “But in the end, all you have to do is win one in order to obtain—”

More text written in that wacky font appeared onscreen, covering it in its entirety as the voice read them out: “—The Grand Prize!”

Bill hid a laugh behind another sip of his drink. Once again, his guessing skills were impeccable.

“The Grand Prizes offered by the Shelduck’s Game are just as diverse as the games themselves,” the voice continued. “And just as catered specifically to the needs-slash-wants of the player!”

The scene changed to the man’s animated head surrounded by brightly wrapped presents, and one opened to reveal a pile of money.  “Looking for cash?” Another revealed an unlabeled award. “Fame?”

And the last present opened to reveal an elegantly-decorated crown. “Looking to climb back to the top after your nasty and undignified fall from grace?” 

A wipe of the scene revealed the man from before, his disheveled and beaten appearance now replaced with a triumphant pose as he stood tall before a pile of his hard-earned rewards. “All of this and more can be yours if you play and win The Shelduck’s Game!”

With a proud smile, the man gave a thumbs-up to the camera. “Thanks to the Shelduck’s Game, I’m finally back on top!”

“Look at this guy!” the voice continued. “Don’t you wanna be just like him? I’ll bet you do! So play the Shelduck’s Game today!”

The guy gave a thumbs up as the title flashed again: “The Shelduck’s Game! Outta luck? Talk to the duck!” A pause, before the voice spoke again in a much more casual tone: “We’re still working on the catchphrase, cut us some slack.”

A series of warnings in smaller text quickly scrolled up from the bottom of the screen, read along by the voice at a pace to match the speed:

“Warning; please do not play any of the more intense games in the Shelduck’s Game if you are prone to illness, vertigo, motion sickness, or are with offspring in any way, shape, or form. The Shelduck’s Game is not responsible for any death (temporary or otherwise), dismemberment, or injury that may occur during the events of the game. Rules and regulations for each game may vary, as will your satisfaction with the end results. The Shelduck’s Game is not associate with Globnar, Time Baby or any associated organizations.”

The screen faded to black, and Tangy once again clapped their hands together. Immediately, the screen and projector vanished and the room’s lighting was restored. “Still a work in progress,” they admitted, while they moved their chair back to the other side of the desk. “But I think it gets the point across!”

They tilted their head. “Unless you have any other questions you still need to ask before we continue?”

Oh, Bill’s mind was whirling with questions, his gaze fixed hard on his empty martini glass in an attempt to mask the glee building inside him.

Birdbrain was in charge of running some sort of multidimensional game and wanted him as their latest player, with the aforementioned prize to be won acting as a lull to draw him in. Play a game, win a prize. A deal older than time itself, and one that often sounded too good to be true. And as someone who had plenty of experience in the field of dealmaking; whenever a deal sounded too good to be true, there was always a catch.

Luckily for Bill, he was quite the expert in spotting the catches in a deal. A master at spotting a watery loophole in even the most empty and barren of word deserts.

First thing of note was the lack of any specific game for him to play. The video had provided examples, but they’d been exactly that; examples. The video had made it very clear that the games were catered specifically to the player’s needs and personality.

And although he had a feeling Tangy was going to discuss the specifics of the game next, there was still the issue of the prize itself. They had already brought up a list of a few things he desired, but nothing that was worth diving headfirst into an unknown game of chance.

…Well, nothing that was worth diving into an unknown game of chance without more information, at least. 

He had to keep them talking, at least long enough to get that information out of them and anything else they were willing to divulge. Something he was sure wouldn’t be difficult; with how happy Birdbrain seemed to keep chatting up a storm, it was a wonder that they hadn’t been born a parrot instead of a shelduck.

Man, the bird jokes were almost too easy.

“I know what you’re probably thinking,” Tangy said aloud, interrupting his thoughts. “You’re probably thinking ‘this sounds amazing, and way too good to be true.’, along with some kind of derogatory remark about my appearance.”

Smarter than they looked, apparently.

Bill gingerly traced a finger around the rim of his glass. “Let me just see if I’m picking up what you’re putting down,” he said aloud, while his gaze followed the movement. “If I play one of your silly games and win, I get the prize of my dreams? That’s the deal you wanna make with me?”

“As expected, you catch on quick,” Tangy said proudly. “Yep, games are how we do things over here in my neck of the woods. I’ve got enough power to grant people their fondest desires, but it only becomes a reality if they play and win.”

They folded their hands on the desk. “And lucky for you, Bill Cipher, you happen to be the one I’m extending that lucky offer to today!”

Bill raised his glass to his eye again, downing the last little bit of Time Punch. “Can’t lie to you, Birdbrain, that does sound like a pretty sweet deal. But I’ve gotta reiterate my point from before; I can’t exactly agree to a deal if I don’t know the specifics behind it.”

He gestured widely with both arms and the few remaining drops in his empty glass splattered onto the papers on Tangy’s desk, a shimmery mess of color against their usual shade of white. “And not once in that little video of yours did you ever state the actual name of the game."

He held up the glass to his eye for a casual inspection. “I’m just saying, it ain’t smart to sign up for a game before you know what you’re even playing~!”

Tangy didn’t look the least bit perturbed by the mess, and instead gave a wave of their hand. The few spilled drops rose up from the paper into the air, leaving no trace that they had ever spilled, and a wave of their hand in another direction brought Bill’s empty glass up to join them before both dissolved in a quick burst of light.

The light faded as quickly as it had appeared, the cup and droplets now a floating mass of energy as Tangy shifted both hands to bring that energy into their embrace. They snapped with one hand, then the other—

—and then slapped both hands around the energy, flattening it into something that Bill could not see. After keeping their hands pressed together for a moment, they rereleased their grip and held the mass before them as it rematerialized into something entirely new.

At first, it appeared to be nothing more than a bunch of small, golden shapes, each about the size of an eraser. Once all the shapes had properly formed, however, they started to combine into a larger, singular shape—

“A triangle?”

How original.

The triangle—well, actually it was more of a square pyramid than anything else—fell into Tangy’s cupped hands, and a pair of thin, golden chainlinks began to materialize from the topmost point. They continued to form upwards for several inches, before slowly rounding off into a closed circle chain. “I had a few ideas for the game I’d offer you,” they said. “But I think at the end of the day, a scavenger hunt is the perfect choice!”

They looped a finger into the chain and twirled the charm in the air, the triangle gently drifting back and forth with their movements. “Combined with a little bit of Capture The Flag~!”

Bill raised his eyebrow. Alright, not what he was expecting but his curiosity was certainly piqued. “Elaborate.”

“Basically, I take this little guy and I—”

A snap, and the charm suddenly reverted back to a mess of golden bricks. “—scatter the pieces all across Gravity Falls,” they continued. “I then plop you down in the town, and leave you to find all of the pieces and put the entire thing back together.”

They tapped their beak with their finger. “I’d want to give you a decent amount of searching time, so let’s set the time limit from the beginning of June to sunrise on August thirty-first,” they said. “Both within the year twenty-thirteen, of course, so no trying to pull a ‘Well technically, I could still keep playing because you never specified which August thirty-first.’”

Their hand moved from their beak to their chin as they thought for a moment. “Although I guess there has been some debate on whether the current year is actually twenty-thirteen or twenty-fourteen,” they mused. “Time Baby’s literal-untimely death made things go all wonky for a bit and there’s still some lingering side effects. I’m pretty sure it’s only twenty-thirteen, but you know how it goes—”

A shrug. “Whatever, from the beginning of June to August thirty-first all within the same Gregorian year. Three months, no more and no less.”

Bill was silent as he contemplated all of this, gaze shifting between Tangy and the scattered pieces of triangle. “Where does the Capture the Flag part come in?”

“Good question!” Tangy said. “So basically, once you get the pieces together, you’ve gotta find a way to keep hold of the charm by the time the game’s deadline hits!”

They flashed him a smile. “Which I doubt would be an issue for someone like you, but what’s a game without a few extra challenges thrown into the mix?”

Extra challenges, huh? That seemed vague enough to be sneaky. “And what does that mean, exactly?” he inquired. “Gonna pop down a couple of extra players to act as an opposing team to me or something?”

“Oh no, nothing like that,” Tangy assured him. “I just figured you’d be surrounded by a lot of people who don’t like you, and would probably do anything to stop you from achieving your goals.”

Their smile widened. “I mean, if someone showed up and tried to turn my dimension inside out, I doubt I’d be willing to just let them walk around freely after that,” they elaborated further. “And if I found out they were collecting the pieces of a puzzle that would let them do that again, I’d probably do everything in my power to take those pieces away from them.”

A shrug. "That's just my own personal feelings, though. For all I know, the people down there could welcome you with open arms and do everything they can to help you find the pieces. Either way, though, you have to be the one holding them by the end of the game to count as the winner."

…Alright, so maybe it wasn’t as sneaky as he’d initially thought. 

Still, Bill had yet to find any sort of real catch in their offer, and Birdbrain had yet to circle back around to talking about the prize he’d receive if he won the game. “So, just so we’re all clear: you want me to waste three months hunting down some building blocks in a town I can’t stand, full of people I can’t stand?” he asked. “That’s your big, exciting game?”

He folded his arms behind his head. “Gotta say, Birdbrain, I’m not seeing much of an appeal to playing your little game. From where I’m standing, you put far more effort into your silly video than actually making your game interesting.” A laugh. “Don’t get me wrong; I’m sure it’d be fun to go back to tormenting the suckers there for a bit. But I’ve been doing that for several decades now, and the novelty’s worn itself pretty thin.”

“Hey, it’s not like I could send you anywhere else,” Tangy pointed out. “What with the weirdness barrier around the town and everything, I’m kind of limited on options.”

They reached up to gently tap one of the scattered bricks with their finger, before the charm reformed itself into a full pyramid. “Which reminds me, I don’t believe we decided on your prize yet, did we?”

It took every ounce of willpower on Bill’s end to keep his expression neutral as the conversation shifted back to the topic of his prize, despite the initial glee from before bubbling up once again inside him. It really was too easy to get what he wanted out of people, wasn’t it? “We discussed it, but I don’t think we settled on an answer.”

Tangy let both the charm and their gaze fall back to the desk, and they reached over to turn the current page of his file to the next one. “Well, we’ve covered a few of the things you currently desire,” they said studiously, pupils shifting back and forth as they read. “Revenge, a chance to take over the multiverse again…a silly straw—”

“I believe we already established that I can make due without that last one for now,” Bill interrupted quickly.

“Sans the straw, there’s a number of options to select as your prize,” Tangy continued, and flipped to another page. “But so many of them wouldn’t even be worth all the effort of playing, what with that aforementioned barrier still around the town—”

They slapped the folder shut with one hand. “So, why not make that your prize instead?”

Bill blinked. “Wait, make what my prize?”

“The barrier, you goofball!” Tangy said with a delighted laugh. “You play my game and win, and I’ll shatter the barrier for you!”

…Heh? “Heh?”

“I don’t know how much clearer I can phrase it for you,” Tangy said. “Since all of my other options would still leave you stuck within the town limits, why not just get rid of the reason you were stuck in the first place?”

They pressed their hands together in a squishing motion, adding a raspberry for comedic effect. “So yep, that’s my offer! Find all the pieces of the charm, put ‘em back together, and keep hold of the entire thing before the sun rises on the final day of summer, and I’ll shatter that pesky barrier like glass for you!”

“...You’re bluffing.”

It was said far too unprofessionally, far too needy for his liking. But for the first time since he’d arrived, any common sense was momentarily ignored as Bill stared at them in utter shock. 

Out of all the things they could have suggested as a prize, out of all the things he could have suggested, not once did the thought of destroying the barrier cross his mind. Why would it? The only one who had any knowledge of how to collapse the barrier was—

Bill’s hand gripped the chair’s armrest, and he let out a grounding exhale of breath in an attempt to relax. He had to remain calm. Neither he nor his Nightmare Realm buddies had been able to break past the barrier, and he had a feeling that ol’ Sixer had no interest in spilling that information to his beloved family. 

And if Bill hadn’t been able to get the equation out of him, there was no way that Birdbrain would just know it off the top of—

“‘Gravity Falls Natural Law of Weirdness Magnetism and the Equation To Reverse It.’”

Tangy’s attention was now on the laptop, their fingers dancing across the keys for a moment before they pointed to the screen. “Huh, look at that!” they said delightedly. “There’s actually results!”

Bill’s grip on the armrest tightened, cotton fluff billowing out of the rips as his pupil bounced to the laptop for a millisecond. “...And how do I know you’re not just staring at an empty screen right now?”

“I don’t blame you for being suspicious,” Tangy said, and turned back to him. “But I can promise you that I wouldn’t have offered the idea if I didn’t intend to follow through on it if you win the game—”

“So what do you get out of all of this?”

It was a question that had been lingering at the back of Bill’s mind the entire time, just barely out of reach. But upon hearing Birdbrain’s offer to shatter the barrier, something had finally clicked.

They had not once elaborated on why they wanted him to play their little game. 

The prize they were offering; it had to be the catch in their deal. Something so personally enticing to him that he wouldn’t think to question why they were offering it to him in the first place. Why would they be promising to give him so much if they weren’t going to get anything out of it themselves?

Tangy tilted their head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“What are you getting out of this deal?” Bill repeated, and floated up out of his chair. “Out with it, Birdbrain; you wouldn’t be offering this deal if you weren’t getting something out of it in return.”

He hovered forward and placed his hands on the edge of the desk. “You said yourself that a deal wasn’t a deal if only one side was getting something out of the exchange,” he pointed out. “If I play and win, I get a prize.”

He leaned forward further, eye narrowing with suspicion. “So I ask again; what are you getting out of this deal?”

Much like the other times Bill had invaded their personal space, Tangy showed no sense of discomfort or annoyance at the action. Rather, they simply moved a hand back to the laptop and pressed it closed. “What do I get out of this?”

The hand moved to the charm on the desk, their fingers teasing the chain for a moment. “That’s an easy answer! I get the joy that comes from helping someone in need.”

Bill raised his eyebrow, unconvinced.

“I’m serious,” Tangy said, and rose up from their chair again. “The entire motivation behind giving people a chance to play my games is because I adhere to the idea that everyone out there deserves a chance to get their lives back on track. To get a second chance that many others might not be willing to give them.”

Their cheery demeanor grew unusually serious for a moment as their eyes fell to the desk before them. “Even if they squander that chance, at least that helping hand was extended to them in the first place…”

They were quiet for a moment, before their bright expression returned in full. “Also I’d like to point out that while you don’t have to trust my motives, I did go through all the trouble of bringing you here to make this deal in the first place,” they pointed out. “Why would I go through all this effort to bring you back, only to deceive you about what I have to offer?”

Bill could think of at least a dozen answers to their question off the top of his head, but he simply folded his arms across his chest. In their defense, it was a good point; why bother going through all that trouble if they had no plans to actually hold up their end of the bargain?

Sure, there was always a chance that they were lying about possessing the ability to destroy the barrier, but what benefit would it give them to do so? How would lying here further Birdbrain’s needs?

…Again, Bill could spend an eternity listing off potential guesses, but at the end of the day, they would just be guesses. Not actual answers behind their motives.

“I’m happy to give you as much time as you need to think the offer over,” Tangy said, and waved their hand over the desk. “But if it might help speed up the process—”

They pulled their hand back, and a blank piece of paper flew up from their desk and hovered between them. As Bill watched, the words ‘The Shelduck’s Game Contract’ began to magically form in big, orange (again with the orange) letters at the top of the paper. 

Letters that were quickly followed by a series of paragraphs in the same font, finishing off with two blank signature lines near the bottom of the page.

“I know you’re a man of handshakes,” Tangy said. “And we can absolutely do that as well. But my game requires a binding signature to take effect.”

Another wave of their hand and their signature appeared on the first blank line. “There we go, now I’m legally bound to uphold my end of the deal,” they said. “And if I don’t, you’re well within your legal rights to hit me with whatever punishment you see fit~! I do believe we mentioned the Unnaturally-Moist Dimension already? Or perhaps you’d want to do something worse to me?” 

A shrug before they folded their hands together. “Either way, my fate would be in your rightfully-unforgiving hands!”

Bill stared at them before his gaze moved back to the contract, slitted pupil darting back and forth as he absorbed every word, letter—even every punctuation mark—several times over. It was nothing they hadn’t previously discussed; an explanation of the game, the decided terms, and—

‘As agreed upon, the being known as Bill Cipher will receive the following upon winning the decided game; the complete and immediate destruction of the weirdness barrier that surrounds the town of Gravity Falls, Oregon. Scenic Dimension 46'\. ’

His gaze lingered on those words for a moment while he pondered over everything that Tangy had told him. There had to be something he’d missed, the catch he’d yet to find in all their ramblings.

But, on the other hand—

His shoulders tensed. They had countered his questions with legitimate answers. They were practically throwing themselves at him to make a deal, even going to far as to offer themselves as a punching bag if they tried to back out. They were promising to give him the very information that he had died trying to pry out of Ford’s mind—

One fatal mistake.

He didn’t even bother to hide the flash of red in his eye, as he snapped his pupil back to Tangy. “You’re serious about breaking the barrier if I follow all your rules and win your dumb little game?”

Tangy held up a hand. “As serious as the odes of plague in that 2020 punch you drank.”

“And all I have to do to win your game is put that little charm of yours back together and keep hold of it by the end of the summer?” Bill asked. “That’s it?”

Tangy snapped their fingers and the charm flew from the desk to their hand. “That’s all you’ve got to do.”

Bill looked from the charm to their laptop. “...And there’s absolutely zero chance of you just giving me the equation right now, even if I do everything in my power to torture it outta you?”

Another snap of their fingers and the laptop vanished in a flash of light. “You could certainly try,” Tangy said with a smile. “But I’m also aware of your vulnerability in the mindscape, and I feel like that probably puts you at a disadvantage in a fight—”

“Yeah, yeah, alright, point taken.”

Bill crossed his arms, eyelid narrowed in thoughtful silence for a moment, then another—

Aw, heck with it. Since when did he overthink this hard about anything?

“Gimme a pen.”

Tangy’s face lit up with excitement as they made a pen float up from the desk and into Bill’s hand. And within seconds, the blank signature line was occupied by a boldly written ‘BILL CIPHER’ in jagged capitals.

Their smile widening further, Tangy gestured the signed contract back towards them and rolled it up with a wave of their hand. “Looks like the game’s on~!”

“Ah, ah, ah, before that—” Bill held out a hand. “—now it’s my turn.”

Tangy gave a nod. “But of course! I’m nothing if not a duck of my word.”

They reached for Bill’s hand with their own, their palms barely making contact before both were enveloped in blue flames. Heatless flames, but the power behind the action could still be felt as the imaginary bonds of the deal travelled up through their arms and throughout their entire bodies.

Bill’s hand lingered in theirs as the flames died down, his grip tightening against their feathers. “If I win your stupid game, and you don’t shatter that barrier for me, I get free reign to torment your lying, feathered butt in the most horrific ways possible until the end of time.”

“Once again, duck of my word,” Tangy assured him. “But I would like to remind you that I only have to uphold my end of the deal if you win. If you lose, you can’t hold me accountable for your failures.”

Despite the eye roll that followed in response, Bill could feel the familiar rush of endorphins that always came with making a deal surge through him. A rush now paired with a swelling passion, as the realization that he had succeeded in playing his cards right.

He had a chance to destroy the barrier. To start again.

To finally be free.

His features twisted into a metaphorical grin. And this time, he would not be making any ‘fatal mistakes’. Take that, Stanford! Take that, Stanley! Take that, anyone who would not be getting in his way again!

“So, are you ready to begin?”

Once again, Birdbrain was just a master at interrupting his thoughts. But once again in their defense, they were also good at following those interruptions with a good point. “So, how’s this gonna work, then?” he asked aloud, gaze moving to their still-locked hands. “I possess you, then we pop on down to Hick Town, or—?”

Tangy tilted their head curiously. “Possess me?”

“Yeah, you know, so I can play your game?” Bill pointed out. “Can’t exactly go without a vessel to possess.”

He batted his eyelashes at them. “Unless you’re planning on just dropping me down there in my pure, unaltered form~?” he guessed. “Couldn’t blame you if you did, I’m a delight!”

Tangy chuckled. “Well, you are a delight, but I don’t plan on doing that. Knowing you, you’d probably use it to your advantage and just turn the town upside down looking for the charm pieces.” They raised their free hand in a shrug. “And while that’s not against the rules or anything, it would make the game a little too easy.”

“Had a feeling you’d lean that way," Bill said with a roll of his eye. "So then, when am I possessing you?”

Tangy chuckled, their smile widening just the faintest amount. “You’re still misunderstanding, Bill,” they said. “When did I ever say you were going to possess me in this game?”

“...What do you—”

There was a flash of light as Tangy broke their handshake, and Bill vanished.

Their arm remained outstretched for a moment, gaze locked on the spot where Bill had been previously, before they let it fall with a giddy laugh that echoed throughout the domed room. “Wow, I can’t believe it!” they said, flapping their hands in excitement. “I actually managed to convince him to play one of my games! This is going to be so much fun!”

“Sounds like things are going well.”

Tangy’s gaze snapped to the archway at the sound of a new voice, grin widening as a tall, hooded woman stepped through. Unlike Bill’s entrance into the room, she moved with control and grace, her countless eyes shifting about as she took in the scenery. “I saw he had taken his leave, so I thought it safe to make my presence known.”

“Oh, hi, Jhessie~!” Tangy said delightedly, waving at her with their whole arm. “And you’d be right on that fact!”

They gave the woman a double thumbs-up as she approached the desk. “I convinced Bill to play a game!” they explained. “Not only that, you were right about him being suspicious about almost everything in the deal, while also being too darn stubborn to accept any chances to back out.”

Smiling wider, they reached for the triangle charm on the desk and held it up. “Also, it’s a good thing he was so focused on all of that, he didn’t even think about taking a closer look at this bad boy,” they said, and pressed a finger to their bill. “He also didn’t notice how I never actually ended up using my flashcards, despite them being one of the excuses I used to get him in here. Odd oversight on his part, I think.”

“The important part is that he accepted the deal,” she said, tilting her head upwards towards the glass dome. “I’m sure He’ll be pleased about that, as well.”

Tangy also turned their gaze upwards, as the hellfire and blood rain they had previously set for Bill melted back into the underwater view from before. They continued to stare for a moment, before Tangy dropped their gaze back to her. “Hey, Jheselbraum, can I ask you something?”

“You’re going to ask if my initial vision of Bill will come to pass,” Jheselbraum said, also letting the gaze of her multiple eyes fall to Tangy’s face.

Tangy playfully wagged a finger at her. “Nothing gets by you, huh, Miss Oracle?”

“Truth be told, I’m not entirely sure myself,” she admitted. “Or perhaps I struggle to believe it, despite witnessing the events of the premonition with my own eyes.”

She held her hands behind her back. “Regardless, while my visions usually come to pass in one way or another, the events of the future are not set in stone. Whatever happens will inevitably be up to him and the choices he makes during your game.”

“Well, either way, Bill’s on his way back to Gravity Falls for the summer so whatever happens will reveal itself in time,” Tangy said. “Oh, I should probably—”

With a snap, the charm vanished into the air. “There we go! Now his scavenger hunt can properly begin.”

“So, where did you end up hiding the pieces?” Jheselbraum asked.

Tangy tilted their head curiously. “You don’t know?”

“Just because I possess the ability to see into the future does not mean I choose to use it for everything,” she said. “It would make for a rather unsurprising, and therefore dull, lifestyle.”

“Fair enough,” Tangy said. “Well in that case, I won’t tell you! Let’s continue keeping it a surprise for everyone!”

With that, they clasped their hands together. “Well, I’ve probably got some time before he needs my help,” they said. “Care to share a glass of Time Punch with me while I wait? I’ve still got a mostly-full bottle of 2020.”

“I’m more partial to 3030 myself if you possess a bottle,” Jheselbraum said, before taking a seat in the chair previously occupied by Bill. “It’s currently unknown to most, aside from those of us blessed with the ability to see that far ahead.”

With a laugh, Tangy summoned a bottle and two empty glasses. Both of which—along with the rest of the room—were swiftly engulfed in shadow as a massive being passed overhead, beyond the glass of the domed roof. Once again, both beings turned their heads upwards and watched in silence as a giant, pink axolotl floated lazily through the crystal blue waters, its magnificent body twisting to and fro for a few minutes before it eventually swam out of sight.

“Hmm, it appears I was right when I said He’d be pleased,” Jheselbraum observed thoughtfully. “Although He might be less so when he hears that you offered Bill some of your Time Punch.”

Tangy returned to pouring their glasses with a nervous chuckle. “Hey, come on, he was so suspicious of me when I first showed up,” they pointed out. “What better way to help him relax than to show him I’m a cool duck who’s willing to break a few rules with him?”

They cast her a concerned look. “...I’m not actually going to get in trouble, am I? The big guy would understand, right?”

Jheselbraum hummed with amusement. “Worry not, it was a joke.”

Tangy let out a laugh. “Heyyy, since when were you a jokey-jokerson?”

“Since I was able to predict every punchline while others could not predict my own,” she replied matter-of-factly. “But I’m serious when I say you needn’t worry. I can promise you that He’s pleased with the way things are unfolding, and is as eager to see how it’ll play out as we are.”

Their smile widened, before they waved the first poured glass in her direction. “Well, I certainly hope He remains pleased as time goes on,” they said, before getting to work on their own glass. “After all, the game has only just begun.”

“...That was incredibly cliché—”

“I know, but it sounded so cool and ominous that I just couldn't resist!”

They gestured for the bottle to lower itself to their desk as the two of them gave a toast (one immediately interrupted by an outcry of “Wait, I forgot to tell him the rules!” from Tangy), the base coming to a wobbly rest atop a stack of folders on the desk.

Specifically atop a thick, unopened folder, one that contained a decent number of papers regarding the subject within. On the outside of the folder itself however, there was nothing more than a simple picture to act as a label, stuck to the folder by a cutesy little sticker of the full moon. A picture that was thankfully unobscured by the bottle of punch. 

A picture of the Cetus constellation.

The clink of metal to glass echoed through the nearly-empty bus as Mabel pressed her cellphone against the window. “I wonder why they always use whales as mascots for things like car washes?” she inquired. “It’s not like they can actually drive cars or anything! They’re too big to fit through the doors!”

Such a question drew an amused chuckle from the person on the other end of the phone. “I think the thought process there is, like…you use water to clean cars?” they guessed. “And whales live in the water? And then they figure everyone can make the rest of the connection from there.”

From the seat besides Mabel, Dipper looked up from his journal. “Whales are also filter-feeders,” he pointed out. “They filter their food through something called baleen plates, which kinda look like the flappy, hangy-down brushes and sponges in a car wash? Maybe that’s one reason.”

He pointed the tip of his pencil at Mabel. “Also, you know Dev can’t actually see the billboard over the phone, right? …Adding onto that, how are you getting a signal this far out in the woods?”

Mabel moved the phone from the window and pressed it tightly against her chest. “Through the power of love!”

“Yeah, well, I’m almost positive that the ‘power of love’ isn’t gonna make your phone magically grow a video screen and a high-quality internet connection.”

With a scowl, Mabel placed her hands on her hips. “Almost positive isn’t completely positive, Mr. Negative!”

She punctuated her remark with a raspberry, before turning her attention back to her phone. “Sorry, Dev, you know how Dipper is,” she said fondly. “The big dorkus always has to apply logic to everything.”

“He raises a good point, though,” Dev replied. “I wouldn’t’ve made the connection between baleen plates and car wash sponges on my own, so I’m glad he had all that off the top of his head.”

A laugh, before their tone grew more accusatory. “Almost as if someone’s in the middle of researching whales for a certain reason.”

Dipper shifted in his seat, his gaze suddenly and intently focused on a stain of unknown origin on the back of the seat in front of them. “I-I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“...Diiiiip, you promised we’d look into that story about those sky whales off the coast together!” Dev whined playfully. “We were gonna make a whole night of it once you guys got back, with a red yarn board and everything!”

“I swear I was going to wait!” Dipper insisted. “But, like, listen…we’re gonna be spending all summer with our great-uncles. And they’ve spent the last few months sailing around the world, hunting a bunch of cool, paranormal beings out there on the open seas.”

He pressed a hand to the back of his head. “And I thought…you know—”

“—you thought sky whales might be one of the things your uncles saw out on the ocean, and you wanted to learn as much as you could to look all cool and smart in front of them,” Dev finished for him. “Especially in front of the totally awesome, Multiverse-jumping—studier of all things weird and strange—Stanford Pines?”

A beat. “…The one you promised me you’d get an autograph from and I’m totally not using this as an excuse to remind you about that?”

This earned a laugh out of Dipper. “Subtly noted, but it’s just…they’re gonna have so many stories about the places they’ve been over the past nine months,” he elaborated. “The most exciting story I have is that Phoenix incident, and it wasn’t even a real Phoenix!”

Dev let out a groan. “Ugh, don’t remind me! Whose bright idea was it again to smuggle a chicken into Science class?”

“I guess that’s one mystery we’ll never solve,” Dipper added with a look of disgust. “But what we did learn is that burnt feathers smell like someone lighting their hair on fire in a barn.”

“No kidding! I’m never gonna get the smell of stale hay and dirt outta my nose!”

“This is why pigs are the superior livestock,” Mabel said, punctuating her point with an indignant harrumph. “No stinky feathers!”

Dipper nudged her with his elbow before he set his journal and pencil down on his lap. “Weren’t you complaining a month ago about how Waddles is too big to smuggle into school anymore?”

“That’s not his fault! It’s the fault of society and their inability to stop body shaming everything!” She pressed her hands, phone and all, against her cheeks. ”Especially the most adorable wittle piggy in the entire world and his fat wittle piggy tummy~!”

This earned a laugh from Dev. “They’re just jealous they can’t be him, I bet,” he agreed. “Either way, Dip, it’s no worries about the sky whales thing. Just means I’ve gotta start stocking up on new research material for when you guys get home.”

There was a light tapping sound from the other side of the phone, as if Dev were tapping the speaker with their finger. “And it means that you owe me one!” they insisted. “Which you can easily pay off by spilling all the deets about what went down up there last August!”

The twins exchanged a mirrored look. “Dev—”

“Come on, Dipping Dots, you can’t leave me hanging forever,” Dev begged. “I know it was more than just some weird weather patterns! Just…just give me a hint at least! Was it ghosts? Aliens? …Alien ghosts?”

Dipper shot his sister a look, one that she returned with an understanding nod. “Dipper, stop trying to steal my boyfriend’s attention with your nerdy-nerd talk!” she said, loud enough for Dev to hear. “I wanna get as much talking time as I can with him before we get to town!”

With a smirk, he gave her ribs another nudge with his elbow. “Hey, Dev was a part of the Paranormal/Supernatural Club before you two started going out!” he pointed out. “So technically—aha, stop!”

His words dissolved into laughter as Mabel retaliated by putting as much of her weight on him as she could. “Technically, schmechnically, you can’t do nerdy-nerd stuff with Dev if you’re flat as a pancake!” she said, her body vibrating with giggles as she smushed against him.

“Dev, help, I’m being smothered!” Dipper called to the phone, between bouts of his own laughter. “Tell Mabel she’s cute or something!”

This earned another laugh from Dev in response, one warm and full of affection. “Mabel Syrup, could you please stop trying to kill my best friend and Paranormal/Supernatural Club co-president?”

Smiling wider, Mabel straightened herself upright in the seat and held the phone in her ear. “We~ell, since you’re using that nickname, I guess I can be merciful today!”

With a dramatic gag, Dipper pointed a finger at his throat in disgust. “Ugh, I said call her cute, not break out the pet names.”

“It’s not my fault she’s as sweet as her namesake.”

“It’s not her namesake!”

“Boys, boys,” Mabel interrupted with a giggle. “As fun as it is to both flirt with my boyfriend and annoy my brother at the same time, I do think we should circle back to the point Dip made earlier about my cell reception.” She held the phone back up to her ear. “Since we’re almost at the Falls anyway, you wanna go ahead and hang up before the majestic oaks of Oregon do it for us?”

Dipper raised a finger. “Technically the trees around here are mostly firs and birch trees.”

“Oaks, Oregon…I wanted the words to sound all samey-samey,” Mabel pointed out. “And firs doesn’t start with an O.”

“...Neither does majestic?”

“Yeah, we can hang up for now,” Dev said. “I’m sure you guys probably wanna spend the rest of the day settling in, but if you don’t mind talking later tonight—”

“Uh, of course we can talk tonight~!” Mabel interrupted excitedly. “Not only that, I can introduce you to my Grunkles if they’re finished settling in by that point, too! And I’m sure Soos and Melody will want to say hi—ooh, and of course you can meet Candy and Grenda when we have our inevitable ‘Back In Gravity Falls’ sleepover—”

“Okay, maybe we slowly ease Dev into the weirdness that is Gravity Falls and everyone in it?” Dipper suggested. “Besides, I’d like some time to talk to them over the summer, too!”

“Hey, I take offense to that,” Dev said. “The first thing, not the second. Are you forgetting who sought you out to join your club in the first place? And brought his own research material to the very first meeting?”

Dipper gently pulled the phone towards him. “Are you forgetting who’s actually been to Gravity Falls in the first place?”

“No, but I’m also not forgetting who’s keeping all the juicy details about what happened last summer to themselves,” Dev pointed out in return.

“Okay, okay,” Mabel said, pulling the phone back. “No more nerd talk about nerd things, you’re wasting all my minutes! Use your own minutes for that!”

She returned it to her ear with a wide grin. “But we can figure out a proper talking schedule later,” she said sweetly, then paused. “...After tonight though, because you already said we could talk and no take backs!”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Dev assured her. “Love you.”

“And I looooove—” Mabel wiggled her finger with a mischievous look before booping it against the screen of her phone. “—you~!”

“...Did you boop the phone?”

“Yeah-huh~!”

“Bye, Dev!” Dipper called as well. “...I know you two are having a moment, but I wanted to say bye, too!”

“Bye to both of you!” Dev replied. “Talk to you tonight!”

There was a click as the call ended and Mabel pressed the phone against her chest. “Ehehe, I love them!”

“So I’ve gathered,” Dipper said with a smile. “What’re you guys at now, seven months?”

“Seven months, and seventeen days~!” Mabel clarified, with a closing slap of her flip phone and a delighted kick of her feet. “Can you believe it? Last year I would’ve gone through at least seventy guys in that amount of time! Now look at me! Miss Lady-In-A-Serious-Relationship-With-One-Of-The-Best-Guys-In-The-World over here~!”

“You know that number’s a wild exaggeration, right?”

“You’re a wild exaggeration,” Mabel retorted, with a nudge to his shoulder. “And I like how you couldn’t even argue the ‘one of the best guys in the world’ thing, because you know it’s true! Well, he’s the best guy whenever he’s actually in guy mode, of course. Otherwise he’s just the best significant other! But right now, he’s the best guy in the world! 

With a wide grin, she snaked an arm around Dipper’s shoulder before once again smushing most of her weight against him. “Except for thiiiiis best guy in the world, of course~!” she said, words slightly muffled from how her cheek was squished against his arm. “Who knows he absolutely doesn’t count when it comes to me talking about the best guys in the world, because it already goes without saying that he’s the best guy in the world!”

She gave him a squished little smile. “He knows that, right?”

With a warm smile of his own, Dipper gently pushed her back to her side of the bus seat. “He knows that. Although ‘best guy in the world’ is starting to sound like a fake sentence.”

“Haha, yeah,” Mabel agreed with a giggle. “I used it a lot, huh?”

An oink beneath their legs turned their attention to the underside of the seat in front of them, where a fat, pink hog peered up at them with a lazy tilt of his head.

With a squeal of utter delight, Mabel reached down and scooped him up in her arms. “Aww, we can’t forget about the other best guy in the world~!” she cooed, cradling him like a baby. “Are you having fun crawling around and eating all the abandoned wrappers and gum stuck to the underside of the seats?”

Waddles let out another oink and contently buried his snout in the bend of her arm, as if he considered himself nothing more than a simple lap dog. Despite his own amusement at the sight, Dipper raised an eyebrow at his sister. “Seriously, you should probably stop letting him do that before the driver gets fed up and makes us walk the rest of the way.”

“He wouldn’t dare,” Mabel insisted. “This bus is probably the cleanest its ever been! If anything, the driver should be thanking Waddles for helping him out!”

After giving Waddles’ body a shake for additional emphasis, she pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Isn’t that right, you big, pink angel? You even missed your chance to say hi to Dev because you were too busy being the most helpful piggy around!”

“Too bad we couldn’t use him as a distraction,” Dipper said, and reached for his journal again. “You know Dev’s as crazy about him as you are.”

Mabel’s smile fell, and she tightened her embrace around Waddles’ body. “Right…”

Dipper’s hand froze less than an inch from the journal, and he gave her a sympathetic look. “The squishing me was a nice touch,” he said with a halfhearted smile of his own. “Really took his mind off the Weirdmageddon topic…”

With a sigh, he flipped it open to the page he’d been writing on and picked up his pencil. “You know, we could just ask Mayor Tyler if we can bend the rules a little bit and tell our buddy back home about what happened last summer.”

Mabel leaned her body back towards the window, her head hitting the glass with a light thump. “What if he doesn’t believe us?”

“Who, Mayor Tyler? I mean, if we promised that Dev wouldn’t go blabbing it to other people and told him about how obsessed he is with the town, he’d probably understand—”

“Dev, Dipper,” Mabel clarified. “What if Dev doesn’t believe us?”

“Have you met the guy?” Dipper asked. “Out of anyone back home, I feel like he’d be the first one to believe us. I mean, are we forgetting that this is the same person who swears up and down that they've kissed an alien before?"

A pause. "Before following that claim up with ‘but I’d rather kiss Mabel before kissing a thousand aliens’ like the hopeless romantic he is?”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Mabel’s mouth, but disappeared just as quickly as it threatened to appear. “I mean, he does say that all the time. But…”

“But?”

Mabel let out an uncertain hum, but any further response was cut off by the sound of faint crackling from the bus’s loudspeaker. “Attention, passengers, we are approaching the city limits of Gravity Falls, and will be arriving within the town itself in a matter of minutes,” the driver’s voice rang out cheerfully. “Just in case anyone was interested in peering out their window as we passed by the welcome sign, for sentimental reasons.”

The twins shared a mirrored look before quickly scooting over to the window, just in time to see the familiar sign that marked the town’s border whiz past the bus.

It was a fleeting sight; one that came and went within seconds. But their silence continued for a just a bit longer after it passed, even as the endless line of trees finally began to melt into familiar homes and buildings.

Still keeping her attention fixed on the view outside, Mabel’s hand instinctively found her brother’s and gave it a light squeeze. “We’re back…”

Dipper nodded, squeezing her hand in return. “We’re back.”

They remained still, letting themselves be lost in the thrill of finally being back in that old, familiar town for just a few minutes longer, before the realization that they needed to be ready to exit the bus finally motivated them to start gathering up their belongings. “Okay, since we’re now officially back in town,” Mabel began, setting Waddles aside so she could pull her bag to her lap. “What’re you looking forward to the most this summer?”

“Hmm, hard to say,” Dipper said, reaching for his own. “I mean, last year I spent most of the summer trying to uncover the mysteries behind the journal’s author, then spent the remaining time after that with the author himself!”

He unzipped the front and stuffed his journal inside. “Guess I’m just looking forward to spending more time with Grunkle Ford again, now that he doesn’t have to stay down in the basement and deal with all that Bill stuff,” he said. “I know I wanna tell him all about the stuff me and Dev have studied together, and—ooh, I really wanna introduce him to that DDnmD podcast we've been listening to recently—”

“Hey, that was what I was looking forward to, too!” Mabel said delightedly. “Well, not the nerd stuff but the ‘spending time with Grunkle Ford’ stuff! You got to spend so much time with him last year, and I barely got to see him at all! I know we got to cover Bill's dumb grave with all that unicorn hair together, but that's BARELY a blip on the Niece-and-Great-Uncle-Bonding Time scale! So this year I’m determined to spend as much time with him as I possibly can! You know a guy who puts that much effort into his journals has to be a pro at scrapbooking!”

She reached into her bag and pulled something out with a wide grin, before holding it up for Dipper to see. “I even made him a personalized sweater, so he has another one to wear besides his red one!” she explained, pointing to a smiling picture of Ford on the front. “See? I knitted a happy little picture of him—” She moved her finger to the next one. “—and this one’s of the six-fingered hand that was on his journals—”

And finally her finger landed on the stitched writing at the bottom. “—and this part says ‘A-FORD-able! Not like ‘affordable’, but like ‘adorable with Ford!’’ …I was already halfway done when I remembered ‘affordable’ was already a word, so I just added that last part instead of undoing everything.”

While she stuffed the sweater back into her bag, Dipper added: “I think I’m also looking forward to just spending time with Grunkle Stan in general, too. I mean, sure, we got to spend a lot of time with him last year.”

He waved his hands. “But he was hiding such a big secret, one he had to deal with by himself. This year, he’s got nothing to hide!”

Mabel held up both pointer fingers. “Right! Because the something he had to hide is gonna be right there next to him! And the thing that was hiding no longer has to hide in any way!” She smushed them together with silly little noises for emphasis. “And since Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford are getting along now, it means we can all spend time together like one big happy family!” 

Satisfied with her own amateur pantomime, she dropped her hands and returned to her belongings. “Speaking of which, who did Grunkle Stan say was going to be greeting us at the bus stop?” she asked. “I know Soos and Grunkle Ford will be there, but I really hope Candy and Grenda can make it!”

She beamed widely. “Grenda said in her last letter that she’s been taking up wrestling, and that she learned a move that could possibly snap me in half! Although Candy discredited this claim with the fact that she only got a fractured disc when Grenda tried it on her, but you know what they say: practice makes perfect!”

Dipper raised an eyebrow. “You guys can’t just hug each other?”

“We can hug as she’s breaking my spine in two!”

With a shrug, Dipper slung his bag over his shoulder. “Well, to answer your original question; yeah, Ford and Soos are gonna be there. Other than that, I’m not sure. Your friends being there is something you’d know more than I would, and I can’t think of anyone else who would come.”

He tapped a hand to his chin as he thought hard for a moment. “I know Soos and Melody wanted to throw that welcome-back party for us tomorrow, though. So maybe they’ll only have a small group of people at the bus stop today. You know, to give us time to get settled in without being bombarded by a billion people?”

Mabel stuck out her lip and gave the seat in front of them a defiant slam with her fists. “Boooooo, I want to be bombarded by people! I wanna be able to give out at least three-dozen hugs before Grenda snaps me in half like a twig!”

“I once again ask why you guys can’t just hug each each other.”

“Bombardment!” Mabel chanted, slamming her fist in rhythm. “Bombardment!”

There was another crackle of the loudspeakers over their heads as the driver spoke again: “Attention, passengers; this is a follow-up to the previous announcement, but there might be a bit of a delay in getting you to the next stop.”

Dipper and Mabel exchanged a curious look, before Dipper cupped his hands around his mouth and called: “Why?”

“Has the traffic here gotten that bad in nine months?” Mabel added.

Another crackle from the intercom. “See for yourselves, kids.”

At the driver’s suggestion, the twins scooted out of their seats and into the aisleway, remaining bags in hand and Waddles at their heels as they made their way to the front of the bus. As they came to a stop near the bus driver’s seat, their eyes grew wide at the sight that awaited them in the street below.

To the eyes of an unknown tourist, it would look like nothing more than a dozen garden gnomes stacked atop each other before a collection of golf balls spilled all over the road. 

To anyone who’d spent enough time in Gravity Falls, however—

“For the last time, Franz; either you cross the street quickly or we’re letting a car run you over.”

At the front of the collection of golfballs—or more accurately, small persons by the name of Lilliputtians who happened to strongly resemble golfballs—a blue ball crossed their arms with a sour look towards the gnome at the top of the pile. “And we’re telling you for the last time, Jeff, we’re going as fast as we can!” he argued in return. “It’s not like we can just stack ourselves on top of each other like you gnomes can!”

“You’re golf balls!” The gnome, Jeff, pointed out irritably. “You can roll!”

Franz scoffed and placed his hands on his hips. “Oh, so just because we happen to look like golf balls, you think we can roll everywhere?” he asked. “What about you gnomes, huh? Without linking up to each other, I’ll bet you couldn’t go more than a few feet without getting winded!”

Jeff crossed his own arms with a roll of his eyes. “Yeah, well, you’ve never seen Shmebulock run after six nosefuls of mushroom spores.”

His point was emphasized by an enthusiastic “Shmebulock!” from one of the gnomes at the bottom of the snack.

From the bus, the twins shared a knowing look before Mabel turned to the bus driver. “You know what? You can just let us off here, we can walk the rest of the way.”

“And we’ll see what we can do about clearing the road for you,” Dipper added.

With a shrug, the driver opened the doors to the bus and the two headed down the stairs; Mabel bounded out the door and onto the sidewalk with a delighted laugh while Dipper followed behind with more reserved steps. 

Despite their different methods of stair descension, their smiles were equally bright as they looked to the smaller beings still crowded in the middle of the road. “So, what do you think’s going on?” Dipper asked.

Mabel turned back to the bus steps and reached out to grab Waddles, who had slowly and piggishly ambled down the steps after them. “Not sure, but isn’t it wild to see both groups just…out in the middle of the street like this?”

“Right?!” Dipper said with enthusiastic agreement. “It’s like—not even five minutes back in town and we’re already getting a taste of peak Gravity Falls weirdness!”

After setting Waddles down to the sidewalk, Mabel clapped her hands together with just as much gusto. “I know, isn’t it great?”

“I’m warning you for the last time, Jeff: get out of our way before we knock your bearded butts down like rolling pins!” Franz insisted firmly. “You wanna see how fast we can actually roll? Keep pushing my buttons and you’ll find out!”

The twins exchanged a look. “Right, we should probably do the thing we got off the bus early to do,” Dipper said. “Otherwise we just made getting to the shack harder for ourselves for no reason.”

“Well, at the very least you can add ‘breaking up a fight between golf ball people and gnomes’ to the list of cool stories to tell Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford,” Mabel pointed out. “I’m almost positive they haven’t had a chance to do that yet!”

Dipper let out a laugh. “Weren’t you just saying a little bit ago that almost positive isn’t completely positive?”

With a laugh of her own, Mabel pushed a lighthearted fist to his arm before turning her gaze to the groups bickering in the road. “So how are we doing this?”

A shrug. “I mean, smartest method would just be to ask them why they’re fighting.”

“Very true!” Mabel said. “And who knows? Maybe if we know why they’re fighting, we can help them work it out peacefully.”

“Or we can at least distract them long enough to get them outta the road,” Dipper pointed out. “Then if they wanna continue the fight on the sidewalk, we just start heading for the shack.”

“That is also something we can do~!” 

She cupped her hands around her mouth and called loudly: “Hey, boys! What’s with all the commotion and bus blocking?”

“Yeah, none of you are more than two feet tall, and you should probably get out of the road before cars realize they can just run over you,” Dipper added helpfully.

From his spot in the road, Jeff let out a scoff. “Maybe on our own, but we gnomes could always just—”

He fell silent, the delayed realization of whom he was speaking to finally settling in as he looked to Dipper and Mabel with wide eyes. And he was not the only one; the attention of both gnomes and Lilliputtians alike were now focused solely on Dipper and Mabel.

“Well, shiver me timbers, amongst other pirate-y exclamations of surprise!” One of the pirates piped up. “The Saviors of the Falls be returned to us at last!”

“The Hugelings are back!” A knight Lilliputtian added excitedly.

The rest of the group (both gnome and golfball alike) let out similar exclamations of delight, their crosswalk argument momentarily forgotten as they all hurried to the sidewalk to greet the twins. 

And once the bus driver took advantage of the cleared road to continue onwards, the commotion was enough to also draw the attention of other nearby townsfolk. Townsfolk who—Dipper and Mabel observed as they got a good look around—were not quite as human as they had been the year prior.

A fair number of them were still clearly human; Tad Strange could be seen purchasing a loaf of bread through the window of a nearby store, while the man known as the ‘Free Pizza’ guy was taking a leisurely stroll just a short distance up the road.

But there was also no mistaking the mermaid in a small, mobile tank at an outside table for the nearby bistro, pulling her attention from her waterproof phone long enough to look their way.  Or the Abominable Bro-man stepping out of a nearby Jeep, the remaining three Bro-men still seated in the vehicle and pumping their fists in the air as they chanted his name with fraternal unity. A chant that quickly melted into the twins' names when the original Bro-man pointed them out with a look of pure, righteous elation.

And there was certainly no missing the flock of Eye-Bats resting comfortably on the nearby powerlines alongside a group of ordinary woodpeckers, or the Woodpecker-peckers that had taken up residence upon the original birds’ backs. While the peckers and pecker-peckers showed little interest in the kids, one Eye-Bat shifted its attention down towards them with mild curiosity, before turning to the nearest Woodpecker-pecker and shooting a burst of energy from its cornea. In a flash, the miniature bird had been transformed into solid stone, the extra weight causing the powerline to sag beneath the original—but otherwise unbothered—Woodpecker.

As more townsfolk—human and supernatural alike—also turned their attention towards the kids, Dipper cast an amused look to his sister. “You still in the mood to get bombarded by a bunch of people?”

Mabel giggled in response, and carefully picked up one of the Lilliputtians for a hug. “I don’t know what point you’re trying to prove, this is awesome! It’s like our own little welcome parade!”

“Well, if this isn’t a delightful delight of a sight~!”

At the sound of another voice, both turned their attention towards a thin man approaching them from further down the sidewalk. His overall demeanor was riddled with giddiness and a cartoonish banner that read ‘Mayor’ was displayed prominently across his chest. “Dipper and Mabel Pines! I was wondering when you two would finally get back to town!”

He waggled a finger at them. “And here I thought I’d have to wait until tomorrow night to say hello to you kids again!”

“Hi, Mayor Tyler,” Mabel said, giving him a wave with the arm that wasn't wrapped around the Lilliputtian, before using it to gesture to the rest of them. “I see someone’s been having a busy nine months~!”

Dipper nodded in agreement. “Yeah, it’s so cool to see the gnomes and everyone else just…wandering around the town like this!”

From where the gnomes were gathered, Jeff let out a smug little chuckle. “Hear that, Franz? We got a personal shoutout and everything.”

Franz turned to glare at him. “You know he was only using you pointy-hatted jerks as an example!”

“I’ll make an example outta you, you round son of a—”

Their heated exchange from before returned in full swing as the two groups began to argue again, the Lilliputtian in Mabel’s arms leaping back down to join the fight with balled fists and a collection of gnome-targeted obscenities.

In response, Mabel’s gestured arm shifted to a pointing finger. “Oh, right, they were fighting in the middle of the street and blocked our bus.”

With a sigh, Tyler pressed a hand to his forehead. "Again?"

Near his foot, a French Lilliputtian piped up with a mighty: "Sacré bleu!"— one that likely translated out to "Again!"—before he hurled his body at the nearest gnome.

While they watched this unfold, Dipper looked back to Tyler. “So is this, like…normal for them?”

“I’m afraid so,” Tyler replied wearily. "They simply cannot stop butting heads no matter how I try to clear the air—oh, hold on, I worry they might start biting if I don’t do something—”

He moved towards the center of the combined groups, carefully tiptoeing between the small golf balls with an ease that implied he had done this countless times before, and came to a stop near both Franz and Jeff. “Now, boys, you know we’ve talked about this no less than a week ago!”

Franz pointed a finger at Jeff, eyebrows furrowed. “He was trying to rush us again—”

“—and I was pointing out how, again, they can just roll across the crosswalk!” Jeff argued in retaliation. “I just don’t understand how they’ve got the ability to move that fast, but then get mad at people for pointing out they have it!”

Franz shook a fist at him. “Oh, I’ll show you fast, with how fast I can ram my hand up your—”

“Okay, gentleman,” Tyler interrupted quickly, and took a knee so he could be closer to them. “Jeff, you know what I’ve said about antagonizing the Lilliputtians. If you and your boys can’t play nice, I might have to resort to—well, looking elsewhere for a crossing guard!”

“Wh—aw, come on!” Jeff protested. “That’ll be the fifth job we’ve lost in a month! Do you know how hard it is to nab the attention of a potential queen if we go back to being a bunch of unemployed chumps?”

Franz rolled his eyes. “Yeah, pretty sure it’s not the lack of a job they hate about you.”

“Why, you little—”

Jeff launched his entire body at Franz as the two of them began to squabble again, and Tyler reached out to grab them both by the back of their shirts. “Hey, come on now! I’m a fan of a good fight as much as the next guy, but you’re setting a bad example in front of our special guests—”

This earned a shrug from the twins. “I mean, we really don’t care,” Dipper said.

“One of them tried to kill us, the other tried to marry me,” Mabel added. “We’ve kinda already seen both of them at their worst already.”

“Need some help?”

A familiar voice from behind—followed by a massive shadow enveloping both of them in shade—turned both twins around, only for them to be greeted by the sight of a tall Manotaur towering high above them. But what really grabbed their attention was the teenager seated on his left shoulder, smile wide as she hopped down to the sidewalk in front of them. Her hair was much shorter than the last time they had seen her, just barely peeking out from beneath the faded hat that she had swapped with Dipper for her own. And her original green flannel shirt had been exchanged for an unbuttoned red one over a white tank top. 

Despite the differences in her appearance, however, there was no mistaking who she was—and her old hiking boots had barely touched the pavement before the twins rushed to embrace her in a joint hug. “Wendy!”

With a laugh, Wendy slunk an arm around each of their shoulders to hug them in return. “And here I thought you squirts would beat me up to the Shack,” she said, moving her hands to playfully noogie the tops of their heads. “What’re you doing all the way down here?”

Mabel gestured to the small crowd before them. “Well, our bus had to stop because—”

“Oh, for the love of—” Wendy interrupted with a sigh, before looking over to Tyler. “Are they fighting again?”

From where he stood—desperately holding the two leaders at arm’s length to prevent more blood from being drawn—Tyler’s expression melted into a look of relief. “Wendy! Thank goodness you’re here!” he said. “Uh, would you and Chutzpar mind—”

She crossed her arms with a miffed look. “You know, people are going to think it’s unprofessional that the mayor has to keep getting help from outside sources to solve the town’s issues—”

“Wendy, please?”

Wendy rolled her eyes, and looked up towards the Manotaur beside her. “Whaddaya think, Big Guy?”

“Many months ago, I would’ve encouraged the idea of using violence to solve one’s problems,” Chutzpar said stoically. “And I still would, were it not an inconvenience to Mayor Tyler.”

He held up a finger. “Punching out your feelings is not inherently a bad way to solve some issues, but there is a time and place for it,” he continued. “And right in the middle of town where people are looking to enjoy their day isn’t the right time nor the right place! So KNOCK IT OFF or I’ll knock YOU OFF!”

He punctuated the last sentence with a warning stomp of his left hoof, one strong enough to rumble the sidewalk beneath everyone’s feet. And once he was finished, he looked to Wendy hopefully—as if he were expecting her to praise him for his answer—and she gave an approving nod before looking to the crowd: “You guys chill now, or does he need to do that again?”

Thankfully the fighting had immediately ceased at Chutzpar’s warning stomp, both gnome and Lilliputtians alike trembling in shock. “H-hey, that’s a really rude way to get someone to stop doing something, you know!” Franz said irritably.

“Yeah,” Jeff piped up in agreement. “You can’t just use your Manotaur buddy to push us around like that!”

“Yeah, well, maybe next time you’ll stop fighting when Tyler asks you to stop first,” Wendy said. “Besides, it worked, didn’t it? You guys are actually agreeing on something and have chilled out a little bit, right?”

Franz and Jeff exchanged a skeptical look, before they both turned away in disgust with halfhearted mutters of “I guess so.” and “Whatever.” in unison.

“Guys...”

Jeff crossed his arms. “Fine, I guess it doesn’t really matter how long they take to get across the street," he said defeatedly. "Besides, the longer we man the cross work, the more chances we get to snag attention from potential queen candidates who'd be impressed by the fact that we're employed."

“And I guess we could speed up a bit when we walk,” Franz added. “We’ll probably have to now, if we wanna make it to the sticker store and back to the golf course before our lunch break is over.”

Tyler clasped his hands together. “There, you see? Problem-solving!” he said delightedly. “Now, let’s clear off the sidewalk and give Dipper and Mabel some breathing room, okay?”

With only a small handful of grumbling, the gnomes and Lilliputtians shuffled back towards the crosswalk. Once they had properly dispersed, Tyler stood up to full height again and clasped his hands together. “Thank you so much, Wendy, you are an angel in lumberjack’s clothing~!”

Wendy crossed her arms again, expression souring at his compliment. “I meant what I said; you’ve really gotta get a handle on doing stuff like this by yourself,” he said. “The town’s not gonna take a guy who can’t even break up a fight between some gnomes and sentient golf balls seriously.”

Tyler chuckled nervously and once again pressed a hand to his forehead. “Well, regardless, your help is always appreciated!” he said, with a look to Chutzpar. “And thank you once again for all your help, big fella. I’m actually glad I caught you, I was actually on my way over to the lumbermill to discuss Thursday’s plans with Dan—”

This earned him an annoyed scoff from Wendy, while Chutzpar simply nodded. “Yes, that is the reason we were on our way to see you—”

“I was on my way to the Mystery Shack.”

“—why we were on our way to see you, before we made our way to the Mystery Shack,” Chutzpar continued, paying no mind to Wendy’s interruption. “I come with a message from him. And a gift.”

He looked to Wendy, who gave him a nod far more halfhearted than his own, before he held out the small object he had been carrying in one of his mighty fists. 

It was a small, wood-carved animal (a bear to be specific), and it was clear that every notch in the wood had been carefully sculpted with care. A care that Tyler recognized with a look that was far less whimsical than his usual demeanor, and more of a genuine tenderness as he took the carving in his hand. “Oh, that darn man really knows how to spoil me rotten, doesn’t he?”

His smile widened as he looked back to Chutzpar. “You said he also had a message for me?”

Chutzpar nodded and reached into his pocket for a small stack of index cards. After taking a moment to shuffle them, he cleared his throat and began to read: “‘I am looking forward to Thursday. I was wondering if you would wear the panther shirt to dinner that I bought you in that two-for-one special. Panthers are powerful, and could tear a puma to—”

He casually flipped to the next index card, before gripping the entire stack tightly with both hands and ripping it in half a powerful yell of: ”—SHREDS!!!!’”

He held his stance for a moment, before slipping back into a more relaxed pose. “He specifically requested that I rip them up when I said ‘shreds’,” he explained. “It was an opportunity to be needlessly loud and violent in a healthy fashion, so I was in full support of the idea.”

“Aww, a show of force and a clever pun?” Tyler said, pressing his hands to his flushed face. “He really does know what I like~!”

He gave Chutzpar a wink. “Well, you be sure to tell Dan that I will certainly be wearing the panther shirt on Thursday!”

“Super,” Wendy said, her tone deadpan. “Can we go to the Shack now?”

“Of course, sorry for holding you up,” Tyler said with a laugh. “I suppose I should be getting back to work as well. This town’s not gonna mayor itself, after all~!”

“It might if you don’t learn how to break up fights without help,” Wendy muttered under her breath.

Tyler gave the group a little wave with the hand that held the wood carving. “Oh, and welcome back to town, Dipper and Mabel~! Can’t wait for the party tomorrow!”

With that, he turned and headed down the sidewalk in the opposite direction of the group, leaving Wendy to turn her attention to the twins. “So, you guys need a second to unpack everything that just happened, or are we good to continue on to the Shack?”

Dipper and Mabel shared a look, before Dipper took the initiative: “Yeah, so I have about a dozen questions—”

“What are the gnomes and Lilliputtians and all the other creatures doing walking around town?” Mabel interrupted quickly, with a wide gesture of her arms. “What’re you doing with a Manotaur? And why’s he giving Mayor Tyler gifts from your dad?!”

Dipper pointed to his sister. “Actually yeah, she covered pretty much all the questions I had,” he said, turning his full attention to her. “Except for the last part, because I feel like that’s pretty obvious, Mabel.”

Mabel placed her hands on her hips. “Duh-doy, I know it’s obvious. I just want to know when it started being a thing,” she explained. “I don’t remember hearing about it in any of the letters we got.”

Wendy made a face. “Yeah, it’s…kinda new.”

“They have been dating for four months,” Chutzpar pointed out.

“It’s new,” Wendy said flatly, before giving a shrug to the twins. “Anyway, the other stuff’s pretty easy to answer. Wanna swap stories as we head to the shack?”

“Yeah!” they answered in unison, before Dipper looked further up the road. “Kinda wish we’d asked the bus driver to stick around, though. The walk to the shack from here’s going to take forever.”

Wendy looked up at Chutzpar with a smirk, and he nodded knowingly in return. “Sounds like the two of you require a ride.”

Before either twin could question what he meant by ‘ride’, they suddenly found themselves being scooped up from the sidewalk and settled onto his muscular shoulders.

Wendy watched with a smile as they adjusted themselves. “You two chill up there?”

From the left shoulder, Dipper gave a thumbs up. “All good!”

Doubling over in a fit of giggles, Mabel reached over and grabbed hold of Chutzpar’s horn to steady herself. “Oh, this is way better than taking the bus~!”

Wendy let her gaze fall to the sidewalk below, where Waddles was staring up expectantly. “And while he’s got you, I’ll get—”

She bent down to pick him up, lifting him with just as little issue as his owner, and adjusted him until he was situated comfortably in her arms. “Woah, buddy, you feel a lot heavier than fifteen pounds this year!”

“I’ve fed him only the finest of leftover table scraps,” Mabel said proudly.

“And he used to sneak into my junk food stash at least once a week before I found a way to stop him,” Dipper said, giving Waddles a pointed look.

Waddles gave him a proud snort in response as Wendy took another quick glance at the sidewalk again. “Alright, no bags or any other random pets that you might’ve picked up since last year?”

“Bags are in our arms,” Dipper said, giving his a pat for good measure.

“And sadly no,” Mabel added in a solemn tone. “Mom said owning Waddles is like owning three pets in one. She says it as a compliment, because that just means he’s three times as lovable. But like we said before, he also just eats about as much as three animals so she don’t see any reason to get a fourth.”

This earned another proud snort from Waddles and a laugh from Wendy. “Sounds like an okay to begin walking, then.”

Chutzpar nodded, the sidewalk rumbling with every thunderous step he took as the group began their trek towards the winding trail on the edge of town.

— — — — — — —

“Mr. Pines, there’s no need to be so nervous.”

“What makes you think I’m nervous?”

From beside Soos, Grenda raised her hand. “The fact that you’re pacing in a circle so much, you’re practically digging a new bottomless pit with your feet?”

Candy turned to her, eyes bright with inspiration. “Ooh, if there are two of them, maybe they could be advertised as twin bottomless pits!” she said, holding up a finger on each hand. “Twin pits for twin pairs—“

She brought her fingers together with a smile. “—of twin Pines!”

Grenda let out a loud cackle, and gave her friend's shoulder a hearty slap. “God, Candy, save some of that genius for when Mabel gets here!”

While Candy rubbed her sore shoulder with a wince, Soos gave the two of them a thumbs-up. “But I’m adding that to the list of attraction ideas when we get back to the shack. It’s a good one, dude.”

Stan looked down at the thin dent in the gravel that he’d worn down with his shoes, and crossed his arms with a gruff sigh. A sigh that was interrupted by the familiar sensation of a six-fingered hand on his shoulder.

His mouth curled into a smile as he locked eyes with the hand's owner, a near-identical set of features to his own staring back at him. “They raise a good point, Stanley,” Ford said. “Mostly about the nervousness, not the second bottomless pit idea.”

At that, he gave the girls a thumbs up. “But that is some impeccable wordplay, Candy!”

“My name gives me plenty of chances to make puns in everyday conversation,” Candy informed him with a smile. “It’s second nature to me at this point~!”

Stan tsked at that, although his smile didn’t disappear. “And who’s to say that pit idea a' theirs ain’t exactly what I’m doing?” he said. “Building some kinda new, twin-themed shack attraction with my feet?”

Candy held up another finger. “Shack-traction!”

“I said, stop! You’re gonna use up all the good ones!”

While the girls chattered on, Ford turned his gaze from them to Soos. “Actually, Soos, don’t you and the girls want to go, uh—” A pause. “—discuss that second bottomless pit idea further?”

Grenda ceased her attempt to give Candy a noogie of approval, and raised an eyebrow at him. “Why? He already said we’d—”

“Don’t worry, Dr. Pines!” Soos interrupted quickly, taking each of the girls’ hands in his own. “I’ll keep ‘em busy!”

Ford gave him an appreciative nod, one that Soos returned with a smile as he lead them away; not too far from the bus stop, but far enough to give the older men some space.

Once the three of them were at a distance that would make eavesdropping impossible, Stan playfully nudged his brother’s arm. “Real subtle there, Poindexter.”

“Wasn’t trying to be,” Ford said, as he turned back around to face him. “And even if I was, it’d be a lot more convincing than you’re trying to be about not being nervous.”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Hey, I’m the King of Subtlety! Or are you forgetting the New Jersey Lil' Wise Guy Subtlety Competition of 1956, where I took first place?”

“It was 1957,” Ford corrected him. “And I distinctly remember you quite literally taking the first place medal and attempting to pawn it off to one of the customers in the shop. Which failed, because you were three.”

Stan pressed a hand to his forehead. “Was it? Could’ve sworn it was—” With a huff, he waved it away. “Whatever, so maybe I’m a little nervous about seeing my great-niece and nephew again for the first time in nine months,” he said with a halfhearted shrug. “So what?”

“As I’m sure we’ve discussed at least two dozen times on the ride back to town—”

“Three dozen.”

“—there’s no reason to be nervous about seeing Dipper and Mabel again,” Ford finished. “If all the letters they sent to the Mystery Shack are anything to go off, they’re just as excited to see us as we are them.”

Stan waved his hand again, this time with the addition of a scoff. “Oh, I’m not worried about all that,” he explained. “I know the kids love us, and I know as soon as they step off that bus, I’m gonna put on the tough-as-nails, no-nonsense Grunkle act and pretend I wouldn’t erase my own mind for ‘em again if they needed me to—”

“Don’t joke about that.”

A shared look of somberness crossed their faces for a brief instant, before Stan’s gaze fell to the ground again. “It ain’t us I’m worried about,” he repeated. “They headed outta this place only a week after we barely managed to save it from going to heck in a handbasket. Barely managed to save them…”

His gaze returned to Ford. “Just don’t want them comin’ back to a whole boatload of new things to be worried about, you know?”

The hand on Stan’s shoulder moved to Ford’s own hair, which he pushed back with a tired sigh. “Don’t I know it. I’ve had this pit in my stomach for about two weeks now, both from the excitement of getting to spend the full summer with my great-niece and nephew and—”

He paused, before letting his hand fall back to his side with a weak laugh. “Well, I guess it was inevitable that our return to town would be accompanied by some…complicated emotions.”

Forgetting his own nerves for a moment, Stan’s attention immediately snapped to his brother. The shift in Ford’s features was subtle, as it always was whenever the topic of Bill came up in passing. But the pain behind Ford’s eyes, a pain that held the weight of the past thirty-plus years, and the way his entire body tensed from the memories that Stan could only assume made up that weight—

Stan shoved his hands in his pockets with a sigh. “Psh, listen to me gettin’ all worked up over the kids, when I should’ve been asking if you were alright.”

Ford looked to him, eyebrow raised. “Wh—no, that’s not the point. The point is—”

He was cut off by Stan slinging an arm around his shoulders, his knees buckling slightly from the extra weight. “The point is we’re both stressed,” Stan said. “And if we’re both stressed, then the kids are gonna end up stressed as well and that’ll just have the opposite effect of what we want. Like that law. You know, from that one guy?”

With his free hand, he snapped his fingers thoughtfully as he racked his brain for the answer. “Somethin’, somethin’, every action’s got a reaction and it’s opposite?”

An amused smile spread across Ford’s face. “Are you referring to Sir Isaac Newton and his laws of motion?” he asked. “Those laws by that world-renowned philosopher?”

“Hey, you’re the one that finished high school, Smart Guy, you tell me!”

Satisfied with his answer, he shifted the arm around Ford’s shoulder to pull him into a proper headlock. Ford attempted to slink out from beneath his brother’s embrace with a laugh, but unfortunately the past forty years had done little to weaken Stan’s technique and kept him locked as firmly in place as it had during their childhood.

On the other hand, three decades of wandering the Multiverse had provided Ford with a few defensive maneuvers of his own. Combined with spending the past nine months on a fishing boat together, it had taken little time for him to readapt to his brother’s attempts at rough-housing—

His gaze fell to Stan’s exposed ribs, to which he delivered a light—yet firm—jab with his elbow.

—and even less time for him to find the most effective methods of countering them.

Sure enough, Stan released him with a surprised yelp, one that melted into a fit of rough laughter as Ford effortlessly slipped out of his grasp. “Cheap shot.”

“I believe you’re the last person to talk when it comes to fighting dirty, Stanley,” Ford replied with a smug grin.

“Oh, I’ll show ya dirty—”

The laughter doubled as the two of them spent another moment attempting to one-up the other in lighthearted fisticuffs, until the distant, rumbling sound of tires against asphalt pulled them back to reality. And if the sight of the approaching bus alone hadn’t been enough, Grenda’s boisterous cry of “THE BUS IS COMING!” as the rest of the group hurried back to rejoin them would’ve done the trick.

As they straightened themselves out again in preparation to greet the kids, the brothers exchanged another look. One that clearly displayed their shared nervousness that even rough-housing hadn’t completely eliminated.

It was Stan who broke the awkward silence first, mouth curling into a halfhearted smile. “Guess we’d better give that Newton chump a call, huh?”

Ford managed a weak smile in return. “You realize you’ve wildly misinterpreted the laws of motion and their relation to the situation at hand, don’t you?”

“And you realize you’re a giant nerd, right?” Stan countered.

“Well, regardless of misinterpretation, you do raise a good point,” Ford said. “If we’re both stressed, then the kids are bound to pick up on it and get stressed in turn.”

He inhaled slowly, and exhaled slower. “It’s a new summer. A chance for everyone to start over.”

“You know it,” Stan said, lightly touching his knuckles against Ford’s arm. “And hey, uh—that doesn’t stop at summer. We don’t have to do anything alone ever again, right?”

They exchanged a look, silently lingering in their shared understanding for a moment before Ford spoke again: “You’re right, Stanley. We don’t have to do anything alone. Not now, not ever again.”

The two remained still for a moment more, before Stan reached over to give him a nudge. “And y’know, if that doesn’t work, I’m pretty sure I saw some kinda zombie-summoning spell in one of those nerd books of yours.” 

He crossed his arms. “I know we chucked them down into the Bottomless Pit, but I also know for a fact that you’ve got one’a’those smart-guy photographic-memories and could probably recite it off the top of your head.”

“Are you suggesting I use necromancy to summon Sir Isaac Newton?” Ford asked, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement. “To prove his first law that you seem insistent on misinterpreting?”

“I mean, I ain’t telling you to give him a kiss on the cheek or nothin’,” Stan said.

Their smiles widened in amused unison as the bus finally slowed to a stop, the creaking of the brakes echoing loudly through the forest around them. Almost as if they were announcing the long-awaited arrival of the teenagers on board to anything within earshot.

And as the group watched, the older adults with tense shoulders while Soos and the girls all leaned into each other with excited anticipation, the doors of the bus slid open to reveal—

“Are you all looking to get on?”

—nothing more than the bus driver.

Candy blinked in confusion. “Have Dipper and Mabel turned invisible since we last saw then?”

Stan’s brow furrowed, balling one hand into a warning fist as he stared at the driver. “Yeah, pal, what gives?! Where’s our kids?”

“The ones from earlier?” the driver asked. “Oh, they got off somewhere in town. There were a buncha golfballs and gnomes in the road, said they’d take care of it and for me to just go on ahead without ‘em.”

He pressed a hand to his chin. "Good kids, though! The bus floor's practically sparkling thanks to that pet pig of theirs!"

“Did they tell you if they were going to walk the rest of the way or not?” Ford asked.

“I believe that’s what they said,” the driver said. “But seriously, is no one here going to get on?”

A varying chorus of ‘No’s earned the group a closed door, before the bus continued onwards down the road. After it eventually descended down a hill and out of sight, Grenda’s shoulders fell. “Aw, man! I was gonna pile drive Mabel into the ground as soon as she got off the bus! Now our whole ‘Welcome Back To The Falls’ greeting is ruined!”

Candy patted her arm sympathetically. “I am sure she would’ve appreciated the effort regardless.”

“Of course she would!” Grenda lamented, her loud voice booming through the nearby wood. “She’s an angel who appreciates when we go the extra mile!”

“Back in town for five minutes and they’re already getting caught up in some kind of weird shenanigans,” Ford said, swelling with pride. “They’re a couple of Pines, alright.”

Stan slapped a hand over his eyes, and dragged it down the rest of his face. “Yeah, a pair from your side of the family, maybe.” 

It was said in exasperation, but there was an undeniable fondness in his tone. One that transferred to his expression as he turned to the rest of the group. “Alright, on one hand: the kids know the way to the Shack like the backs of their own hands and they’ll probably get here just fine on foot,” he pointed out. “On the other—”

“Getting here could take a while and none of us want to wait that long to see them again, so we go and meet them halfway?” Soos guessed.

“You got it.”

From beside his brother, Ford shot a glance down the road from whence the bus had come. “Looks like halfway might be closer than we think.”

He pointed a finger for emphasis, and the rest of the group followed his gesture to the sight of an approaching Manotaur coming up the road. One that was delightfully conversing with the two thirteen-year-olds seated on each of his shoulders, and the sixteen-year-old walking beside him.

A conversation that had been clearly happening since the four of them had been back in town, Dipper and Mabel’s attention fully fixed on Wendy as she continued to speak: “—and after everyone teamed up during Weirdmageddon, the vibes of the town just kinda shifted. As if a lot of the weird stuff in town suddenly realized: ‘Hey, we’re not much of a mystery anymore so there’s not really a reason to keep hiding’, and the people in town realized they weren’t as weird and terrifying as they originally thought.”

She pressed a finger to her temple. “Combine that with the Society of the Blind Eye going belly up and leaving no one around to go blasting memories out of people’s heads—” Then pressed her hands together and laced her fingers for emphasis. “—everyone and everything just kinda started mushing together over time.”

“Manly Dan caught news of us Manotaurs when we were forced to relocate our Man Cave,” Chutzpar added. “Impressed by our manliness and feats of strength, he offered us jobs in his lumberyard. We told him we’d only accept if the toughest combatants from his family defeated us in battle.”

“And you guys lost to him?” Mabel guessed.

“Not to him.”

Chutzpar cast a gaze down at Wendy, and the twins followed suit in the hopes of further elaboration. “Originally, it was just going to be Dad and my brothers in the fight,” she explained. “Not because Dad didn’t think to ask me; I was at work at the time and happened to come home just as all of them were getting their butts handed to ‘em on a silver platter.”

“It was a mighty battle of strength and determination,” Chutzpar said in a faraway tone. “They fought well, even if their efforts were inevitably in vain.”

“Nearly in vain,” Wendy corrected. “But then I showed up and volunteered to finish the fight.”

“And they let you?”

“Of course not, the big meatheads all laughed at the idea of fighting a girl. But then I punched one of ‘em in the gut, and suplexed another into the ground, where he got stuck by his horns.”

This got a laugh out of her. “Taking down the rest wasn’t too hard, since Dad and the others had already worn most of 'em down. But even if they hadn’t, it wouldn’t have been difficult. Their fighting style was all punch, no technique. Even an amateur could’ve taken all of them down with a few well-placed hits.”

She shrugged with amusement. “That was also why Dad wasn’t able to win against them; he fights the exact same way. It was just lunkhead against lunkhead out there, swinging fists wildly until at least one of ‘em hit something. And unfortunately for my lunkheaded family, they didn’t have as many fists as the Manotaurs to keep swinging around. Until I showed up, at least.”

While the twins giggled at the visual image, Chutzpar gave a stoic nod. “The Manotaurs lost the battle that day, but it was a loss we hold with pride,” he said, with a shift of the arm that held Dipper. “One that taught us that—between her and the things you taught us last year, Destructor—we have plenty to learn about what it means to be men.”

He gave his chest a hearty thump. “And that sometimes that manliest men among us are actually girls!”

Dipper raised a mildly-confused eyebrow at Wendy, who gave another shrug in response. “Eh, they’re still a little confused but it’s better than where they were last year,” she said, shoving her hands in her pockets. “Not to mention being called the Manliest Man in Gravity Falls kinda hits in a way I’m not complaining about—”

“Kids!”

At the sound of another voice hailing them from further ahead, Dipper and Mabel turned their gazes forward to see their welcome party hurrying towards them from the opposite direction. Grenda and Candy were bringing up the rear with Soos, while Ford was keeping a steady pace in the middle. 

But at the very front of the group, Stan was charging towards them with a speed and passion that couldn’t be matched by anyone else.

Except perhaps by Mabel, who had quickly jumped down from Chutzpar’s shoulder at the sound of his voice and began to sprint towards her great-uncle at Mach speed. “Grunkle Stan!”

It was a miracle that the two of them remained standing, with how hard they crashed into one another in a bone-crushing embrace; Mabel linking her arms around Stan’s neck like a spider monkey while he spun her around with a hearty belly laugh. 

Only for that miracle to shatter when the embrace of two became three as Dipper caught up to them, and all of them tumbled to the ground in a mess of laughter. “What, are you kids tryna kill me before we even get to the Shack?” Stan asked, slinging an arm around Dipper’s body. “I don’t remember the two’a’you being this big last year.”

Mabel let out a little giggle and pressed her hands to his face. “Yeah, well, you weren’t this hairy last year!” she pointed out in return. “I mean you were still really hairy, but now you’ve got a full-grown beard!”

“Sure do!” Stan said brightly, and patted the hair covering his chin. “Ol’ Poindexter and I made a decision early on that if we were spendin’ our days as men of the sea, then we were sure as heck gonna look the part!”

Mabel pressed her own hands to her mouth, stifling a laugh. “You sound like Dipper at Hanukkah! He was soooooo excited to show Grandpa Shermie his beard~!”

The last word was said with clear amusement, and Dipper shrank a bit before slapping his hands over his face. “Mabel, come on, you don’t have t—”

“Oh, didja grow one too?” Stan asked, peering at him. “Come on, Slick, let’s see those Pines genetics at work.”

After a moment of hesitation, Dipper nervously lowered his hands and Stan leaned closer to examine the few, noticeable hairs on his chin. “I-I know it’s not much,” he explained quickly. “But it’s more than I had last year! A-and Mom says that I’m bound to get more as I get older!”

With a proud laugh, Stan reached up to ruffle his hat. “You kidding? That’s more than I had at that age!” he said. “You be proud of those few hairs, and don’t let your sister steal ‘em for her scrapbook.”

“Too late,” Mabel said brightly. “I stole both one from the chin and one from the shin~! He has some there, too!”

Dipper gave her a pointed look, before turning back to Stan with a more confident smile. “I’d be more annoyed at her for that if she wasn’t right,” he said, and held up his leg. “Because look, I got so much on my legs, too!”

“Woa-hoh, get a load of Mister Big Man over here!” Stan said, and brought him closer for a proper noogie. “Those genetics really are kickin’ in early for you, huh?”

“He’s not the only one they’ve kicked in for,” Mabel added. “Or should I say—”

She kicked out one of her own legs with a cheeky grin. “—kicked~!”

There was a moment of pause, before she gave her leg another wiggle. “You get it because—”

“Mabel also got leg hair,” Dipper clarified. “If that wasn’t obvious.”

“I tried shaving it at first, but it just made my legs soooooo itchy,” Mabel said. "So now I just have built-in leg warmers!”

“I’d suggest the fire method, but it’s far more effective at removing facial hair than body hair,” a voice behind them said. “Also something tells me that your parents wouldn’t be too happy if we sent you back home with burns on your legs.”

The trio looked up to see Ford standing before them, a hand outstretched. “Room in the dirt for one more?”

A series of grins were exchanged before three hands reached for Ford’s in unison and pulled him down to the ground with them. “It’s good to see you again, Grunkle Ford!” Dipper said. 

“Especially since we actually know you exist now!” Mabel added. “This time last year, we still thought Grunkle Stan was you! And then when we did find out that you were you and he was him, we only got to spend a little bit of time with you!”

Her arms moved from around Stan’s neck to Ford's, her spider-monkey grip once again unbreakable as she hugged him tight. “But this year, we get to spend aaaaallllllll summer with both our Grunkles!”

Ford’s smile widened and he slinked an arm around her as Stan piped up with: “That’s right, Pumpkin! No more mysteries or weird demons or monsters or anything that’s gonna get in the way of me spendin’ time with you kids and my brother!”

“Well, I mean, a monster here and there’s not a bad thing—” Ford begin, just as Dipper finished with a: “I wouldn’t mind a mystery or two, honestly.”

The four of them doubled over in laughter as the remaining party from both directions finally caught up to them. “Aww, you guys are having a cuddle pile in the dirt without us?” Grenda piped up unhappily.

“Candy adds a dash of sweetness to every cuddle pile!” Candy added.

“Or did the squirts knock you down ‘cause you’re older than the dirt you’re sitting in?” Wendy chimed in, as her and Chutzpar also came to a stop.

“Watch it, Corduroy,” Stan said, pulling his arm out from around Dipper so he could point a finger at her. “Just ‘cause I’m not your boss anymore doesn’t mean I can’t ask Soos to fire you.”

Wendy raised an eyebrow in Soos’ direction. “Would you fire me if he asked?”

“Uh…” Soos shifted uncomfortably in place. “Do I really have to answer that?”

This got a disbelieving “Wow.” out of Wendy and a delighted cackle out of Stan, one that was cut short by a grunt of pain as he shifted in place. “Ow, maybe we should get up outta all this dirt and gravel,” he muttered. “I got rocks in place I don’t wanna mention in front of a bunch of impressionable teenagers, my brother, or Soos.”

Soos offered him a hand. “Maybe we can move the cuddle pile to the Shack, then? Then Melody can join us!”

With a look of disgust, Stan took his hand and pulled himself to his feet. “Pass. Last thing any of us needs is for you two to start making kissy faces at each other.”

“Keep that in mind,” Wendy muttered with a grin.

“Soos does raise an excellent point about making our way the Shack,” Ford said. “The sooner the kids get settled in, the sooner we can exchange...stories.”

He emphasized the last word with a knowing look to his brother, and Stan’s mouth spread into a wide grin as he offered his own hands to the kids. “Hey, yeah! You squirts wanna hear about the time your Grunkles tore the head off a Kraken along the coast of Texas?” he asked with a wink. “‘Cause lemme tell ya: when they say everything’s bigger down there, they mean everything!”

Dipper and Mabel exchanged a unanimous “Yeah!” as they were also pulled to their feet—

“Nope! I said I was giving Mabel a proper ‘Welcome Back’ pile drive, and I’m gonna do it!”

—and Mabel was immediately brought back down to the tampered dirt path by a charging Grenda, any pain from the impact momentarily drowned in a fit of giggles as she hugged her friend. “Oh, it’s just as spine-shattering as I hoped it’d be!”

“Don’t forget Candy, for a dash of sweetness!” Candy piped up, as she flopped over the other two with a laugh. “I made that pun already, but it was so nice, I had to say it twice!”

“Agreed, it was hilarious!” Mabel agreed, arms going around both of them in a tight embrace. “Ugh, I missed you girls sooooo much! I’ve got loads to tell you since my last letter—ooh, also I’ve got a phone now!”

While Mabel attempted to fish her phone out of her pocket, Wendy cast a smirk to the adults. “Anyone wanna bet that we won’t get to the Shack until nightfall?”

Chutzpar looked down at her. “I respect a show of friendly violence, but should I intervene again?”

“You know you don’t have to listen to me,” Wendy said, folding her arms. “I’m not, like, actually in charge of you guys or anything.”

“I’m aware.”

“And I don’t take any bets I know I’ll lose,” Stan said, and snapped his fingers at the girls. “Hey, come on, I know we’re all excited to be seein’ each other again.”

He pointed a finger at Grenda, which shifted between her and Candy. “But I already told you two that I need at least one night without wondering if a family of bats moved into my attic, or if you girls are tryin’ to break the sound barrier with your squeals.”

“Seconding that,” Dipper piped up quickly. “I would also like a buffer between now and the inability to sleep in my own room, please.”

The girls let out a chorus disappointed of ‘Awwwww’s as they untangled themselves and returned to their feet. “But Grunkle Staaaaan, I missed my people!” Mabel argued.

“And her people missed her!” Grenda added, squeezing her close.

“Never said you couldn’t hang out with ‘em after tonight,” Stan pointed out. “Plus there’s that party tomorrow—”

“Oh, yeah!” Grenda said excitedly. “We can catch up at the party!”

“We can catch up on stories while we tear up the dance floor!” Candy added with an excited wiggle, before she raised her fists to the air. “And remind this town who the real party animals are!”

She let her arms fall again. “Plus my parents said that I needed to come home after we said hi to you, anyway,” she explained further, then added as an afterthought: “Hi, Mabel!”

With a giggle, Mabel replied: “Hi, Candy!”

“And I got my pile drive in, so I guess I did everything I wanted to do today,” Grenda added with a shrug.

While Stan leaned close to Ford with a quiet: “I’d point out that it was more of a tackle than a pile drive, but also I don’t wanna be out here longer than we hafta be.” (earning a “Smart call.” from Ford in return), Mabel tightened her grip around the other girls. “Well, when you put it that way, I guess I can wait another day to hang out with my beeeeest friends in the whoooolllllle world~!”

Candy’s gaze moved over to Wendy and Chutzpar. “By the way, we saw that Dipper and Mabel got a Manotaur ride up here,” she said. “Is there an option to catch a Manotaur ride back to town?”

“Ooh, me too! Me too!” Grenda added. “Wendy, make him give us a ride!”

“Once again, I’m not in charge of the Manotaurs,” Wendy pointed out, with another look to Chutzpar. “It’s up to you, pal. You offering rides back to town?”

Chutzpar held out both hands for them to take. “Small girls who greet their friends with violent pile drivers are worthy of a ride,” he said, before raising an eyebrow at Wendy. “But will you be alright getting home?”

“I can always hitch a ride from someone,” Wendy assured him. “Or—”

She reached into her pocket for her phone, and glanced at the screen for a moment. “—yeah, or I can just spend the night at the Shack if I really need to.”

“Aw, what?” Grenda said unhappily from Chutzpar’s shoulder. “How come you get to spend the night and we don’t?”

“Good-bye, girls,” Stan said, and gave Wendy a pointed stare. “Tell the big guy to go.”

“I’m not—” Wendy started to say, then shrugged it off and gave Chutzpar a wave of her hand. “Go ahead.”

Chutzpar gave her a nod in return, and turned back towards the direction of the town. “Let’s make haste, small female children,” he said, and began to walk. ”I have a response from Mayor Tyler to deliver to Manly Dan about their Thursday plans.”

“We are teenagers now, you know,” Grenda pointed out with a mild huff of indignance. “Or at least I am.”

“Ooh, is the response a loooove message~?” Candy added delightedly. “Are the plans a date?”

“Oh, you know it—!”

Chutzpar’s voice echoed through the wood with amusement, the volume only matched in power by Grenda’s laughter as the trio drew further and further away from those who had stayed behind. Eventually though, even their powerful baritones could not be carried such a distance, and the forest around the group fell silent again.

Silent, until—

“So, we’re not gonna question the big man-cow thing?” Stan asked. “We’re just acting like he’s been here the entire time, then?”

Ford shrugged in response. “He was clearly a Manotaur, and one that seemed to be on good terms with Wendy and the kids,” he said. “Didn’t see any reason to question his presence.”

“He’s visited the Shack several times,” Soos chimed in as well. “Also he was staying with us in the Shack during Weirdmageddon.”

“Did he?” Stan said. “Huh, feel like I should remember that.”

“I also met him and the rest of the herd last year,” Dipper added, just as Mabel chimed in with her own: “The Manotaurs work for Wendy now, and also Manly Dan is dating Mayor Tyler!”

Wendy made a twirling motion with her finger. “What they all said, minus the ‘working for me’ thing. They’re part of my dad’s logging crew now, and even if they listen to me when I ask them to do stuff, I don’t want anything to get weird with that.”

“And the part about your dad and Mayor Tyler?” Stan asked, an eyebrow raised.

Wendy’s expression shifted for half a second, before her usual, disinterested grin took its place. “Hey, here’s something I never thought I’d hear myself say: let’s stop standing around and doing nothing, and get to the Shack so I’m not late for my shift!”

Soos raised a hand. “Uh, but Wendy, I’m your boss and it’s your day off—”

“Race you knuckleheads there~!”

Wendy took off like a shot before Soos could finish his point, taking great care to lightly plap a hand against the heads of the younger twins and deliver a loving fist to the arms of the adults as she zipped between them and ran towards the direction of the Mystery Shack.

With a laugh, the younger twins sprinted after her in a rush with cries of: “Wait for us!” and “How are you running that fast with a pig in your arms?”

The adults watched them go for a moment, before Soos turned to the Stans: “...We don’t actually have to run all the way back there, do we?”

Stan, who had been watching Wendy and the kids race ahead, pulled his attention back to Soos. “Absolutely not,” he said flatly, and pressed a hand to his back. “Especially not after the kids knocked me down like that.”

He winced as the three of them began to follow after the kids at a much slower pace. “Gonna be feeling that for at least a few days.”

“Well, at least it’s a sign that we won’t have to give Sir Isaac Newton a call,” Ford pointed out with a smile. “With the way the kids tackled you, there’s zero doubt that they’re thrilled to be back.”

Once again, Stan mirrored his smile with one of his own. “Yeah, well, if they keep on bein’ that thrilled, you’re gonna have to bust out that necromancy spell to talk to me.”

Ford’s expression tensed for a moment at his brother’s joke, but any unease passed just as quickly as it had come when the sight of the familiar old cabin peered into view ahead of them.

“Dibs on being the first Pines inside the Shack!”

The old floorboards creaked lightly under Mabel’s weight as she bounded through the door, pausing only to drop her bags by the staircase before she continued on towards the living room. “Aww, I’ve missed this place!” 

She jumped from the small doorway step to the carpet, twirling on her toes like a ballerina before she gestured to the television set. “Hello, ancient TV that only plays local access channels~!” Her gesture moved to the large dinosaur skull in the middle of the room. “Hello, weird T-Rex skull that we use as a coffee table for some reason~!” 

She waggled her finger at the aquarium. “And hello, giant aquarium tank that only sometimes has an animal in it~!” she said with a giggle. “You can’t hide from me forever, Sir. Wiggleton the Pink!”

From the nearby couch where she had seated herself and Waddles, Wendy raised an eyebrow. “Sir. Wiggleton the Pink?”

“That’s what I call Stan’s axolotl,” Mabel explained matter-of-factly. “He’s very sneaky, and likes to hide a lot. I only got a good look at him, like, once last year!”

“Maybe he sneaks out when nobody’s looking?” Wendy suggested, then snapped her fingers with inspiration. “Ooh, what if he’s actually some kinda secret agent, one who goes out and fights bad guys? And that's why it's so hard for anyone to spot him in the tank, ‘cause he’s not always in the tank!”

“Yeah, yeah!” Mabel agreed enthusiastically. “Maybe he’s part of a whole secret organization of secret-agent animals! And they all wear funny little hats!”

While they laughed in unison over the idea, more creaking from the hallway floorboards drew their attention to the doorway. A moment later, Dipper’s body was propped against the frame for support, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he gulped down precious breaths of air. And between the desperate attempts to catch his breath, he shot Mabel a sour look. “You know, most people might call ‘tripping your brother as he tries to pass you in the driveway’ something along the lines of—oh, I dunno, maybe something along the lines of—cheating?”

Mabel’s mouth curled into a coy little smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dipping Sauce~!” she said innocently. “Not my fault you don’t know how to avoid branches while you’re running.”

“You literally stuck out your leg as I was trying to pass you!” Dipper argued. “And then after I fell, you laughed about it once you were sure I wasn’t actually hurt and was only just mildly inconvenienced!”

From her spot, Wendy let out a cackle. “You tripped him? Brutal.”

“It was a branch!” Mabel insisted. 

“A branch shaped like your leg!”

Mabel waved him away. “Oh, we can go on and on about things I did or didn’t do all we want—”

“You did do it.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered anyway!” Mabel continued, tossing her arms up in the air. “I still called dibs on being the first Pines to step inside, and you can’t go against dibs!”

“She has a point,” a voice spoke up behind Dipper, seconds before Ford stepped into the room. “The International Dibs Protocol is highly respected across countless dimensions, with millions of interdimensional beings valuing the weight it holds when it comes to ownership over specific affairs.”

He pressed a hand to his chin. “I believe at one point, there was even talk amongst the council members here in town about passing a law that would make adhering to said protocol mandatory. But the idea was scrapped before the House could ever lay an eye on it.”

“Yeesh, so this town’s just fine and dandy with people marryin’ woodpeckers or deciding ownership of a place based on whatever chump’s got the deed in their hands,” Stan called from out on the porch. “But you call dibs on something and suddenly that’s going too far—hey, hey! Knock it off, Soos, I’m not gonna look!”

He cast a miffed look to his right, where Soos had firmly remained throughout their entire walk up the driveway. His arms were spread out as wide as he could possibly get them, and he had even crab-walked up the porch beside Stan in an attempt to block something from his line of sight. 

“Sorry, Mr. Pines,” he said, keeping his arms outstretched until both of them were safely inside the house. ”But I can’t risk you seeing anything on the other side of this building until I give everyone the tour later!”

Stan let out a gruff sigh as they joined everyone else in the living room. “Yeah, yeah, like I’m in any rush to jump right back into work stuff after a nine-month vacation.”

Soos gave him a pitiful look. “Wh-you mean you’re not excited for the tour of all the new exhibits and stuff?”

“...I said ‘right back into’, didn’t I?” Stan pointed out. “Gimme an hour, we’ll see where I’m at then.”

He shuffled over to the couch, then paused with a look to Wendy. “They got all the rats outta this thing while we were gone, right?”

“Completely rat free,” she assured him, moving her hand to Waddles’ head for scritches. “Although you’re never gonna guess what happened after we chased the last of them out of the shack—”

“Well, that sounds like six voices,” a voice called from the kitchen, seconds before a woman peeked her head through the doorway. “Pretty sure that’s everyone, unless we’re also expecting the girls.”

“Negative,” Wendy replied, as Stan settled down next to her. “Mr. Pines put down a hard no on any sleepovers tonight. Well, any sleepovers with the under-fourteens, at least.”

“Dipper also put down a hard no,” Dipper added. “Also hey, Melody!”

“Melody! Hi!” 

Mabel’s features lit up as Melody stepped out into the living room proper, and both twins rushed over to greet her further with a hug. “Hey, you guys!” she said, bending down to reciprocate. “Been a while, huh?”

“Sure has!” Dipper said with a hearty laugh.

“It’s so nice to see you again!” Mabel added with equal amounts of enthusiasm. “How’ve you been?”

 “I also think it’s nice to see you again!”

Before Melody could answer, all three suddenly found themselves lifted up from the ground. “I know we were only gone for, like, fifteen minutes or so,” Soos said, hugging all of them close to him. “But still, that’s enough time to miss someone, right?”

Despite most of her face being squished against his own, Melody smiled up at him.  “Well, fifteen minutes is about the same amount of time it takes to complete Ladybug on Dancey-Pants Revolution—” She paused and wriggled an arm free to tick off her fingers. “—what, five times? Five and a half? Just saying, that feels like an eternity when you’re trying to hit a perfect combo, doesn’t it?”

“That is so true,” Soos said with a nod. “You have such a way with words, babe.”

A squeak of delight drew their attention to the teenagers smushed between their bodies. “Hehe, you guys are adorable!” Mabel piped up. “And nerdy!”

“Also you’re kind of squishing us,” Dipper added with a wheeze.

With an apologetic smile, Soos lowered the group back down to the floor. “Sorry, dudes! Got so caught up in giving Melody a hug, that I kinda missed you were there.”

“Don’t worry, I’m okay,” Mabel assured him as she straightened out her clothes. “Being squished like that made me feel like the ham and cheese in a lovey-dovey sandwich!”

She gave a nudge to her brother’s arm with her elbow. “Guess that makes Dipper the lettuce and tomatoes!”

“What? Why am I the vegetables?” Dipper asked.

Mabel shrugged with a smile. “Because even if they’re not the most exciting ingredients, it just doesn’t feel like a proper sandwich without them,” she explained, pressing her hands together as if she were forming a sandwich herself. “But you gotta put ‘em between the meat and cheese, otherwise their veggie juices get mixed in with the condiments. Then bread gets all soggy and fall-apart-y and the sandwich is just inedible at that point.”

“Okay first of all, rude and gross. Second of all, that is a very weird analogy which explains nothing.” A pause as he pressed a hand to his stomach. “Although weirdly enough, it is making me hungry.”

“Good thing I got a head start on dinner before everyone got here,” Melody said. “In fact, I just checked the timer and there’s only a few minutes left before I need to pull it out of the oven—oh, by the way, lasagna from a box is fine with everyone, right?”

She directed her question both to the kids and to the group that had gathered by the couch, earning her a nod from Ford. “Fine with me. Meals that require minimal effort to prepare have sustained me since my college years, and I see no issue with continuing that trend now.”

“Long as there’s no fish involved, I’ll eat anything,” Stan assured her.

Wendy, who had distracted herself with scritching the spot between Waddles’ ears, looked to him. “Got sick of seafood out there on the open ocean, Mr. Pines?”

“Got sick of badly-prepared seafood.” 

Stan shot a pointed look to his brother. “Apparently somebody can rip out the spine of a zombified fishman from the ‘Walking Bullhead Dimension’—” 

“We’re gonna start this again, Stanley?” Ford interrupted, giving him an flat-but-amused look that implied they had discussed this topic countless times before.

“—but you give the guy a regular tuna to debone, and suddenly it’s all ‘Oh, this is ~soooo~ hard!’” Stan continued in a jestful tone. “‘I’m gonna make my twin brother nearly choke on a rib bone! Or two. Or five.’”

“Their spinal cords are more delicate than what I’m used to handling,” Ford insisted. “The anatomy of an anthropomorphic fish person—oh, uh, make some room?”

“Huh? Oh, right.” Stan made a gesture with his hand for Wendy to move. “Hey, scooch over and put the pig on the floor so we can all sit down.”

“I can take him off your hands now, Wendy,” Mabel said, holding her arms open. “Although he’ll probably end up on the floor anyway; I know he’s been dying to root around in the carpet for burrito bite crumbs again!”

While Wendy readjusted and passed Waddles back to his owner, Ford seated himself comfortably next to Stan. “As I was saying,” he continued. “The anatomy of an anthropomorphic fish person resembles our own more than that of a non-anthropomorphized fish from our dimension. This size increase in bone structure makes it far easier to get a grip on their spinal column and just—” He made a tearing motion with his hands. “—rip it straight from the body—”

He paused and looked to the younger twins. “Only when such drastic measures are necessary to take, of course. Had the dimension been populated by living anthropomorphized fish people, I would not have resorted to ripping out anyone’s spines.”

Stan lightly bumped his knuckles against Ford’s arm. “Heh, sounds like a buncha fancy-schmancy excuses from a guy who never learned how to properly work a pair of fish tweezers,” he said, making small, pinching motions with his fingers. “What’s wrong, Poindexter? Thought you were used to usin’ delicate sciencey tools out in the field with your dainty little sciencey grip.”

“Nothing about my science or my grip has been dainty in over thirty years, and I think you know that.”

“Yeah, tell that to the octopus babe you tried to hook up with off the coast of Australia! When’d she leave again, less than half-an-hour into the date?”

While Ford responded with his own playful fist to the arm—one that Stan cackled loudly at in return—Mabel knelt to the carpet and set Waddles at her side. “Aww, it’s nice to see you two getting along so well now!” she said sweetly. “Does that mean no more fighting? I mean, actual fighty-fighting and not play fighting?”

“Psh, please, let’s not go that far,” Stan replied, with a wave of his hand. “Of course we’re gonna fight, we’re siblings. Or are you forgetting how you tripped your brother out there in the driveway?”

“It was a bra~anch!” Mabel insisted in a singsong tone.

Dipper gave her a flat look. “Still gonna go with that excuse, huh?”

“Yeah-huh~! Also it’s not an excuse.”

With a wink to them, Stan snaked an arm around his brother’s shoulder. “But if anyone’s worried about a repeat of last year’s performance, don’t be!” he assured them. “Nine months of punching sea monsters and nabbing treasure from sirens have made us thick as thieves, just like old times!”

“While Stanley’s claims are a touch exaggerated, he’s not wrong,” Ford replied. “Despite our petty bickering over fish preparation, there’s nothing quite like spending months out on the open seas with someone to remind you of what’s really important in life. Sailing around the world on the adventure of a lifetime—”

He cast a small smile in his brother’s direction. “—well, it puts a lot of things in perspective.”

With a faux look of disgust, Stan pushed him away. “Ugh, why’d you have to go and make what I said all sappy? What, you wanna make the kids blow chunks on their first day back?”

While the kids giggled at this response, Ford nudged him in retaliation again. “Well, if you’re going to be like that, we could always go back to our petty fish arguments,” he said with a smug look. “You’ve harped on my inability to properly debone a fish, yet you act as if you didn’t completely butcher the deboning of those seatrout we caught along the coast of Florida.”

“Hey, hey, I plead the Florida loophole!” Stan insisted. “Which clearly states that if anything funky happens within the Florida boundaries, it was caused by the fact that we were near Florida.”

He folded his arms firmly across his chest. “Just sayin', can’t be blamed for anything when we’re sailin’ through territory that could give this town a run for its money in weirdness.”

“Oh, you two were down in Florida?” Melody piped up. “That’s exactly where Abuelita headed a few days ago!”

“She won a free trip in a bingo game,” Soos explained with a look of pride. “Man, you should’ve seen how jealous Agnes and Bertha got when she held up her winning card—”

The ringing of a timer from the kitchen turned everyone’s heads to the doorway. “Oh, sounds like the food’s done,” Melody said. “Better go ahead and start plating.”

“Need an extra hand?” Soos asked.

“Mmm, I think I can manage slicing up lasagna by myself,” she assured him, before casting another look at the group. “Besides, I know how excited you were for everybody to get here, and I wouldn’t dream of pulling you away from everything just to help me slop some food on a plate.”

Soos moved his hands to her shoulders with a solemn expression. “I love you. So much.”

With a chuckle, she leaned up to kiss his cheek before turning back to the kitchen. Once she disappeared out of sight, Soos let out a warm sigh. “Isn’t she the best?” he asked to no one in particular.

Stan turned to Wendy with a raised eyebrow. “So them bein’ all lovey-dovey with each other,” he said. “Is that a rare thing or am I gonna have to actually start stockin’ up on eyeball bleach for the summer?”

“Told you to keep it in mind earlier,” Wendy said, hand on her hip. “Also, you call that ‘lovey-dovey’? Kisses and random compliments for the other when they’re not even in the room barely crack a three or four on the Soos-Melody Romance scale.”

She tilted her head in thought. “Though I guess it’s been more about quantity than quality lately. Can’t go five minutes without one of them trying to smother the other person in affection because of…reasons.”

She raised a finger to her mouth before casting a look over at Soos, who smiled and pressed a finger to his own mouth in return. Leaving the Pines family to watch them with raised eyebrows and tilted heads. “Well, that’s certainly not cryptic or anything,” Ford said.

“Yeah, what’re you two hiding?” Dipper asked. 

“C’mon, spill the beans!” Mabel added, with a quick glance around the living room before she followed up with: “...If there were any opened cans of beans lying around, you know I’d poke ‘em over for dramatic effect!”

“Hehe, that’d be so funny,” Soos said amusedly. “It’d be like…a callback or something! But sorry, dudes, no beans of any kind can be spilled at the moment. Whether it’s beans of the secret variety, or just the ones in a can.”

“Why not?” Mabel asked.

“I mean, I think we ran out of them yesterday so you can’t spill what—”

“The secret part, Soos,” Dipper clarified.

“Oh, that!” Soos pressed a hand to the back of his neck with a tender look. “Well, it’s kind of a big deal, y’know? And I wanna wait until Mel and I can tell you together.”

“Yeesh, this secret of yours must be big big,” Stan said with a loose chuckle. “What, are the two of you getting married or some…thing—”

The mild amusement in his tone faded as the punchline he was waiting for never seemed to come, while the giddiness in Soos’ expression only seemed to blossom further. His cheeks had brightened to a light shade of red and he’d pressed hand over his mouth as he tried—and failed—to hide the smile that was quickly taking over his entire face.

Wendy also slapped a hand over her mouth to hide her smile—her entire upper half trembling as if she were holding back the biggest laugh of her life—while a deafening silence of realization overtook the rest of the Pines family.

“Alright, who wants the first two plates?”

It was Melody who finally broke the silence, having returned to the doorway with a paper plate of lasagna in each hand. “Again, I would’ve prepared something better for a welcome-back dinner, but with Abuelita out of town and the party tomorrow—”

“YOU’RE GETTING MARRIED!”

Mabel’s words were punctuated by an ear-piercing scream—one that earned slapped hands to the ears of everyone except for Melody and Soos—and she flung herself around the neck of the latter to hug him tightly. “You guys are getting married! I can’t believe it!”

Dipper hurried to join in the hugging of Soos with a hearty laugh. “Congratulations, Soos! I’m so happy for you guys!”

“Can I be the flower girl?” Mabel prattled on. “Can Waddles be the ring bearer?!”

“What?! Why Waddles?” Dipper asked, then looked to Soos hopefully. “Can I be the ring bearer?!”

Melody stared at the sight with a look of mild confusion, to which Soos shrugged apologetically. “Sorry, babe,” he said meekly, and slung an arm around both of them. “Guess my poker face needed a little work.”

She chuckled in response, and went to set the plates down on the t-rex skull. “Well, I guess that’s one way to spill the beans.”

“YEAH! I spilled the beans!” Mabel said delightedly, pumping a fist in the air. “The metaphorical beans!”

“I mean, technically Stan was the one to spill them,” Wendy said, flashing Stan a grin. “You should’ve seen the look on your face, dude, it was priceless!”

This earned her a pair of narrowed eyes from Stan. “Hey, hey, what’s with you and the jokes today? You should be a little more respectful to the guy who used to sign your paychecks.”

“Mmm, are you going to be signing my paychecks again now that you’re back?”

Stan opened his mouth to respond, before the implication behind her reply snapped his attention right back to Soos and Melody. “Woah, woah, hold on, go back a sec—you’re telling me that you two are actually tyin’ the knot?”

Melody held out her hand, an engagement ring with a beautiful, purple gemstone resting comfortably on her finger. “End of the summer’s our set date,” she confirmed. “Oh, not the end end of summer; Soos told me that the kids’ birthday was the last day of August, and he didn’t want to take the spotlight away from their special day with our special day.”

“Aww, what? Booo!” Mabel protested as she hopped down from Soos’ arms. “Come on, we can share the day with you guys! Right, Dip?”

“Yeah!” Dipper agreed. “If there’s anything that’ll make our birthday better, it’ll be sharing it with your wedding day!”

Soos pressed a hand to each of their heads with a warm smile. “Aww, man, now I kinda wish we did!” he said, with a hopeful look to Melody. “You don’t think we could—”

“Normally I’d say yes in a heartbeat,” Melody said. “But we’ve already booked the photography, and you know how they are about rescheduling at the last second.”

“But don’t you guys have three months?” Dipper pointed out.

“To a wedding photographer, rescheduling earlier than five months counts as last minute,” Melody explained. “Especially if your set date’s in the summertime; they’re usually pretty swamped from June to the middle of September.”

“You shoulda gone for a Vegas wedding,” Stan said. “You get in, get out in an hour tops and all you need is a witness.”

He crossed his arms with a scowl. “And I guess you’ll need a safe for your valuables, in case the broad’s only marryin’ you for your winnings and plans on running off with ‘em in the middle of the night. …On second thought, don’t get married in Vegas.”

“Well, thankfully I don’t have any plans to go running off with any of Soos’s valuables, so there’s nothing to worry about there,” Melody said, taking a look around the room. “Besides, I’m pretty sure the majority of his valuables are sitting right in this very room, and I don’t think I could carry most of you.”

This earned her a chorus of ‘aww’s from the kids and Soos, and a retching gag from Stan. “Yeesh, forget the eye bleach thing, I’m gonna need something to scrub out my ears with after hearing that.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Wendy said, rising to her feet. “You still want some help with the food, Mel? I’ll do it just so Mr. Pines has an excuse to stop complaining about all the mushy stuff.”

Melody pressed a hand to her mouth to try and stifle back another laugh. “Sounds like a plan,” she said, and gestured for Wendy to follow.

While Wendy hurried after her—Stan glowering at her until she was out of his line of sight—the kids continued to swarm Soos with questions. “So where are you guys holding the wedding?” Mabel asked, hands folded together. “Ooh, lemme guess! Uh, uh—the arcade? No, that’s not romantic enough. Hoo-Ha Owl’s Pizzamatronic Jamboree? Since it’s where you had your first date?”

“Here at the Mystery Shack?” Dipper guessed. “Or, you know, a regular church?”

Soos pointed at him. “Ding ding ding, Dipper got it! Or, uh, he was right with the first guess.” He tossed his hands in the air. “We’re gonna have it here at the Mystery Shack! We’re gonna make some space outside, maybe put the alter over in that spot by the totem pole—it’s gonna look so good!”

“Well, I know I’m happy for both of you,” Ford spoke up from his spot on the couch. “I mean, I might not know either of you very well. But from the little I’ve seen of you two together, this is clearly a big deal and I’m honored that we get to share this opportunity with you.”

Soos turned to him with a surprised, yet touched expression. “Wh—aww, thanks, Dr. Pines,” he said, placing a hand on his heart. “That actually means a lot, coming from you.”

Ford blinked in confusion. “It…does?”

“Well…yeah,” Soos said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I mean, I know you didn’t plan for this place to become the Mystery Shack when you built it. But because it became that, I was able to meet Mr. Pines, and then Dipper and Mabel—” He began to tick off his fingers. “—and they were able to help me learn how to get a date, which led me to meeting Melody at the mall—”

He paused, looking to his hand. “Hey, should I count the whole ‘killer video game girlfriend’ thing in there somewhere, or was that more just a…thing that happened and isn’t really connected to all of this?”

“Definitely more of a side thing,” Mabel said. “Like, it happened, but I think connecting it back to the shack is a bit of a stretch.”

“The very weird point they’re to make is that none of this would’ve happened without you building the shack to begin with, Grunkle Ford,” Dipper said with a smile in his direction. “So in a way, a lot of this is because of you!”

“This wouldn’t be possible without help from our friend here!”

Ford’s smile vanished, nails gripping the arm of the couch tighter than he’d intended as the shrill, high-pitched sound of Bill’s voice echoed through his mind. Cruel tauntings mixed with the vicious laughter of his surrounding henchman, all while he struggled desperately against the invisible binds that held him in the air.

Invisible binds so similar to the ones Bill had used to restrain him all those years ago, back when he had refused to continue his work on the portal. For a fleeting, horrific moment, Ford could practically feel that old, familiar sense of his bones slowly, so slowly being pulled from their sockets as darkness flooded his vision. The faint click of Bill's fingers as he flipped an imaginary switch over his threats—far more menacing than taunting—of erasing whatever memories he could get his hands on if he didn't comply—

“Grunkle Ford, is everything alright?”

Mabel’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, a expression of worry painted across her features. Not only hers, but Dipper was giving him a mildly concerned look as well.

Ford let out a slow exhale of air through his nose to steady himself. Outside of his nightmares, he had managed to keep a lid on most of his Bill-related memories for the past nine months whenever they managed to snake their way to the front of his mind. Bill was gone, there was no sense in letting that part of his past haunt him. Bad memories were just that—bad memories. There was no need to dwell on them any longer, especially not now. 

“I’m fine,” he reassured the rest of the group with a smile. “I was just about to say that I don’t know if I would go that far with the compliments. I mean, Stanley’s the one who put all the time and effort into making this place what it is today, isn’t he?”

He looked to his right, an identical pair of eyes meeting his own as the older Pines twins stared at each other in silence.

While he and Stan had only been reunited for less than a year, falling back into the habit of picking up on Stan’s mannerisms had almost been second instinct for Ford. Despite the forty year gap between their teenhood and the present, so much of the way that Stan presented himself hadn’t changed in the slightest.

So naturally, Ford had also picked back up the ability to distinguish when Stan was hiding his displeasure with a situation.

It didn’t happen often; Stan had always been the kind of person to openly and fervently vocalize his complaints at the slightest inconvenience. A behavioral habit he had possessed since they were young boys—such a thought sent an uncomfortable wave of nostalgia rippling through Ford’s chest—and one that had clearly stayed with him throughout the years—more uncomfortable waves in his chest of a different sort.

So whenever Stan made the choice to to keep his grievances to himself, it usually meant there was more bubbling under the surface. More than he was willing to let anyone see.

And the way that his features had shifted, jaw clenched and a rigid look behind his eyes that was easy to miss if you blinked—

“Yeah, the heck am I? Chopped liver?”

Before Ford could think to question Stan, he’d already turned back to the group with an affronted look. “Or are you knuckleheads forgettin’ who even started this whole business to begin with?”

This sent a wave of laughs through the trio. “Of course we didn’t, Grunkle Stan!” Mabel assured him. “We’d never forget about you!”

“Of course not!” Dipper added with a laugh.

“Not for a second!” Soos added. “In fact, I was actually about to ask you—”

“More plates coming through~!”

Melody and Wendy reentered the living room, a plate in each of their hands. “Alright, dorks, come and get these before I eat them,” Wendy joked, passing both plates in her hands to the younger twins.

“And one for you,” Melody said, handing one of hers to Soos with another kiss on the cheek.

This got a small hum of delight from Soos, which was accompanied by another eye roll from Stan as he leaned forward to take one of the plates off the skull table. “Eugh, on second thought, I don’t want any sorta credit for this mush fest,” he said, bringing it to his lap. “In fact, unless you got more happy news to tell us, I’m turnin’ my attention to this mush fest instead.”

To emphasize his pun, he brought the back of his fork down onto the lasagna with an audible squishing sound, before shoving a large bite into his mouth. “‘Sides, the sooner we eat, the sooner we get to see Soos’s big, fancy shack tour, right?”

His point seemed to encourage the kids to dig into their own plates as well, although not without bombarding the happy couple with more wedding-related questions. Wendy, in the meanwhile, had realized that she was the only person left without any food and headed back to the kitchen to fetch herself a plate of her own.

Leaving the remaining plate on the dinosaur skull—one growing colder by the minute—for Ford to take.

He leaned forward to pull it to his lap as well, unable to resist giving Stan a glance out of the corner of his eye as he did. Stan’s expression had returned to a more relaxed look as he dug into his food, any previous signs of distress now nothing more than a memory.

Settling back into place with his plate, Ford turned his attention back to the group—specifically Dipper and Mabel as they laughed along with whatever Soos was telling them through a mouthful of lasagna. 

None of them had expressed any further concern for Stan’s behavior after it had happened, and the three of them had spent far more time with Stan than he had in the past thirty years. Sure, the two of them had spent the past nine months together out at sea, but the kids had gotten to know him over the course of the previous summer. And Soos had practically spent all of his childhood and young-adulthood around him.

If they had failed to noticed anything was wrong with him, did that mean that Ford had misinterpreted his reaction completely? If one of Stan’s closest employees and family members—people who had been around Stan for far longer than he had in the past few decades—hadn’t noticed anything wrong with him, then maybe there was actually nothing to notice at all?

“Ho-ho! Looks like Mr. Brainiac finally got smart!”

…Then again, he did have experience in not picking up on the obvious.

His grip on the fork tightened as he stabbed it into the remaining lasagna on his plate, letting out another slow exhale in the process. It was like Stan had said earlier at the bus stop. If the two of them showed any signs of stress regarding the events of the previous summer, then it was sure to stress out the kids as well.

He raised the fork to his mouth. And it was like he had said; It was a new summer. A chance for everyone to start over, and for them to start over together.

“We don’t have to do anything alone ever again, right?”

“We don’t have to do anything alone. Not now, not ever again.”

If there was anything truly wrong with Stan, he would say something. They could talk things out, find a solution together.

As he bit down on the lasagna, however, he couldn’t stop his gaze from uncertainly shifting back to his brother.

—right?

— — — — — — — — 

“Remind us again why we’re wearin’ blindfolds?” Stan asked.

“Oh, how the tables have turned,” Mabel piped up, and reached her hands out in front of her to blindly grasp at the air. “Are you going to make Grunkle Stan drive us somewhere with his blindfold on?”

“I strongly advise against anything of the sort,” Ford said quickly. 

“Nah, I’m pretty sure Soos just wants us to be surprised by all the new stuff he’s added to the shack,” Dipper pointed out, and looked towards where he had heard Soos’s voice. “Isn’t that right, Soos? …I think I’m looking at you, I can’t actually tell.”

“You got it, dude!” Soos said, giving him a thumbs up before adding as an afterthought: “By the way, you can’t see it but I gave you a thumbs up!”

Dipper gave him a thumbs up in return, while Stan folded his arms across his chest. “Yeesh, with how much you’re hyping this thing up, it better end with a boatload of cash.” He said, flipping his thumb in the direction of the parked car and boat situated a short distance from the group. “And don’t think I don’t know how much a boatload is, we got the Stan-O’-War 2 parked right over there for reference.” A pause. “I’m pretty sure it’s over there, at least.”

“It is,” Soos assured him. “Alright, is everyone ready?”

Dipper gave a nod. “We’re ready, Soos!”

“Yeah, knock us dead, Mr. Mystery!” Mabel added encouragingly.

After a quick glance down at the stack of flashcards in his hands, Soos looked back to the waiting Pines with a big smile. “Greetings, ladies, gentlemen, and other assorted tourists,” he began in a rehearsed tone. “First of all, the Mystery Shack family would like to offer you a hearty welcome to the town of Gravity Falls, Oregon—”

He winked at them. “Or I guess I should really say welcome back to the town of Gravity Falls, Oregon! …‘Cause, like, you all came back to the town after leaving—”

Stan pressed a hand to his forehead. “You’re really gonna give us the entire pitch first, huh?”

From off to the side where her and Wendy were situated, Melody perked up at his remark. “He’s been waiting ages to show it to you,” she called to them. “He barely got any sleep last night out of excitement!”

“I kept opening my eyes and hoping it was finally morning,” Soos admitted with a bashful smile.

“Besides, aren’t you the one who’s always saying that buttering up the chumps that come through here is a good way to get them to toss more money at us?” Wendy added. “Why do you care if he gives you the entire pitch first?”

“Hey, never said I didn’t approve of it,” Stan clarified. “I especially like the part where he refers to the staff as a family.”

He gave a theatrical wave of his hands. “Paints a mental picture in those chumps’ minds. A picture that says ‘Hey! The people at this place must be really close if they’re callin’ themselves a family! And if they’re a family, they must have a bunch of hungry kids to feed! Let’s toss all the money in our wallets at them…for the children!’”

“Probably helps that you actually made us dress up like ‘the abnormally hungry twins’ for an exhibit last year.” Dipper cast a flat look towards Stan, then to verbally emphasize his point: “Which I will not be doing again this year.”

Stan waved him away with a scoff. “‘Course not; those extra inches on your height won’t make you pass as anything more than a starving teenager. And people aren’t as taken in by teenagers in need as they are kids.”

“An unfortunate fact, but a true one,” Wendy chimed in again. “Now shh, Soos worked really hard on this speech!”

“Thanks, Wendy,” Soos said. “But I don’t mind any interruptions, especially not from Mr. Pines! If there’s anything my online forums taught me, it’s that running a business is like writing a fanfiction: healthy criticism informs me of the areas I can improve on, and makes me feel good about the areas I’m already doing well in!”

He tapped his chin. “There’s also a lot of overlap between the two when it comes to people who want to learn about how to romance a werewolf,” he mused with a chuckle. “Turns out the secret is just buying a lot of beef jerky, they go nuts for the stuff—”

“Keep it on track, Soos,” Stan interrupted with a roll of his hand.

“Gravity Falls, Oregon,” Soos continued. “A mysterious and strange town, full of mysterious and strange beings. Whether they’re human, animal, vegetable, mineral, something in between or something else entirely, the one thing they all have in common is that they call this town home.”

He tossed an arm in the air to gesture at the building behind him. “And lucky for you, our totally awesome family here at the Mystery Shack is happy to help bridge the gap between the mysterious and the…not-mysterious—”

He made a so-so motion with his hand. “This part’s a little rough, but we’re working on smoothing it out. I know there’s a good M-word that would fit there, I just can’t remember off the top of my head.”

Ford pressed a hand to his mouth, before he spoke up with a suggested: “Mundane?”

Soos’s features brightened with inspiration and he shot a finger gun in Ford’s direction. “Boom! That’s the one!” he said, fetching a pencil from his pocket. “Thanks, Dr. Pines! …By the way, I shot you a finger gun. If you don’t know what that is—‘cause of all the time away from our dimension—I can tell you! It’s when you take your finger and—”

“No need to explain, Soos,” Ford assured him. “The concept speaks for itself.”

While Soos scribbled a few edits onto his flashcard, Melody raised a hand from her spot. “Sorry to interrupt your speech, Soos, but I just want to make sure I’m getting things right now that everyone’s here.” 

She pointed a finger at the Stans, shifting it back and forth between them. “Mr. Pines is the founder of the Mystery Shack and Dr. Pines is the one who actually owns it, right?” she asked with a shrug. “Or—well, I know that technically we own it since we have the deed to the building, that’s such a weird law for this town to have—”

“You have no idea,” Stan added.

“—but you get what I mean, right? Dr. Pines is the name on the deed?”

“I gotcha, and you’re right!” Soos clarified. “Mr. Pines founded the mystery shack and Dr. Pines is the one on the deed.”

He turned to face her completely. “If it helps, you could try remembering it like this: Mr. for mystery and Dr. for deed to the shack!”

Melody considered this for a moment. “Oh, that does help, actually. It’s like a stalactite/stalagmite kind of thing.”

“You could also just call them Stan and Ford,” Mabel added. “Ooh, or Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford like we do!”

“I mean, technically they aren’t her great-uncles,” Dipper pointed out. “So that wouldn’t really make sense.”

With a tut, Mabel placed her hands on her hips. “Please, the title of Grunkle is less about being a great-uncle, and more of a state of mind.”

“...Yeah, the state of mind where you’re a great-uncle,” Dipper said pointedly. “Hence the combination of the two words.”

“You can call us whatever you please,” Ford spoke up. “Clearly there are plenty of options to choose from, and all are accurate to some degree.”

He pressed a hand to his chin. “Although I will admit that it’s been a long time since anyone has referred to me as Dr. Pines. It was far more common for people to call me that for the first few years after I finished college.”

“You know what, I’ll experiment with a few different names, see what sticks,” Melody said, then turned her attention back to Soos. “Sorry, babe, didn’t mean to interrupt. Go ahead and keep going.”

“Never hurts to double check,” Soos assured her. “Plus since the two of them are part of the Shack’s history, it doubles as a tour question! Ooh, we should write that into the speech, too—”

There was another pause as he scribbled something down on his flashcards. “See, that’s another reason I wanted to show you guys the tour as soon as possible,” he said to the Pines. “I’m adding so much that’s gonna knock the next group of tourists that hears it on their butts! Okay, let’s see, where was I—”

“Mysterious and mundane,” Dipper reminded him helpfully.

“Thanks, dude! As I was saying before, we here at the Mystery Shack are happy to help bridge the gap between the mysterious and the mundane—”

He playfully waggled a finger in Ford’s direction, before tossing his free hand in the air. “And hopefully after today’s tour, you’ll all be able to walk across that bridge alongside us! Welcome to the Mystery Shack!”

He squinted down at his flashcards again. “Is…is that good for a welcoming statement?” he asked. “Did I do a good job? Do you feel invested to learn more about what awaits in this fine establishment?”

“Oh, I know if I had a wallet full of money, I’d be tossing fistfuls at you right now,” Mabel said supportively, and dug a hand into the pocket of her skirt. “Ooh, wait, I might have some glitter I can toss instead—”

After blindly feeling around for a moment, she pulled her hand out with a with a disappointed look. “Aw, nope, false alarm,” she said, opening her palm to reveal a squished, blue blob. “Just my wad of that sticky stuff teachers use to hang up posters that I stole over the school year~!”

She dropped it in her pocket again and gave the side a pat. “Just gonna tuck that back where it belongs~!”

“And I’m always ready to learn more,” Dipper added. “So you don’t need to do much to convince me!”

“Sounds like a yes to me, Mr. Mystery,” Melody said. “We good to move on to the next part of this tour?”

“You know it!” Soos said, before looking back to the Pines. “Okay so that part of the speech would normally be followed up with me leading everyone over to the exhibits area and showing all of them off.” 

His gaze moved to the Stans. “But I know you wanted a quiet evening without tourists or sleepovers or parties—”

“We did,” Stan confirmed.

“I didn’t,” Mabel argued with a pout. “I’ll bet Candy and Grenda would’ve had so much fun on the tour!”

“Oh, they’ve taken it many times!” Soos assured her. “They’re practically honorary employees at this point, and sometimes they even help with the new exhibits!”

At this information, Mabel’s pout was immediately replaced with a cutesy smile and she squished her hands to her cheeks. “Aww, of course they do! Can we see some of the ones they helped with?”

“Well, uh—like I was saying, we knew Mr. Pines wanted at least one evening before all the loud stuff,” Soos said. “So we ended tours early for the day and sent everyone from the exhibits home.”

The Pines exchanged a series of confused, blindfolded looks, before Dipper vocalized their confusion with an: “Everyone?”

Soos looked to Melody and Wendy, who nodded in unison. “We sent everyone home,” he continued to the Pines. “But we still wanted to give you all a taste of the kind of tours we’d normally give on a regular basis! So Melody had the brilliant idea to leave out the empty displays and do a fake tour before cleanup!”

He gestured for them to follow. “If you really want to know more, you’re gonna have to come look for yourselves~! And to look for yourselves, you’re gonna have to follow me!”

“Refusing to explain further until we take the tour for ourselves?” Stan gave a proud nod. “Good, good, you’re reelin’ us in…”

“Uh, Soos?” Dipper said, and pointed to his blindfold. “How can we follow you if you can’t see?”

Soos froze, and pressed a hand to his forehead. “Oh, duh, forgot about that!” he said, and thought for a moment. “Uh…just carefully follow the sound of my voice and footsteps?”

He began to walk backwards, making wide gesturing motions with his hands as they blindly followed him. “Alright, dudes, just keep walking forward—oop, careful of that crack in the ground, Dipper! Okay, just a little further—”

“Still don’t understand why we can’t just take the blindfolds off,” Stan said, taking a few bold steps forward—

—and letting out a grunt of pain as he stepped on a small rock. “Also, since when did Soos know to call you Dr. Pines?” he asked, kicking the rock to the side. “Don’t remember you ever tellin’ him to do that.”

He directed the last remark at Ford, who was carefully toeing the dirt in front of him before taking a step. “Well, I did mention my college years back when I first stepped out of the portal,” he reminded Stan. “Perhaps he took that fact and came to the conclusion that using the Dr. prefix would be appropriate, given my numerous PhDs.”

Stan’s expression shifted for a moment. “Oh yeah, that did happen, didn’t it,” he said, before shaking his head. “Yeah, given your whole science guy thing, I’ll bet he woulda called you Dr. Pines even if you didn’t have the credentials for it.”

“I would’ve!” Soos confirmed helpfully.

“Ooh, Mabel just had a fun idea!” Mabel piped up, and pressed her hands together. “What if we called you Dr. Grunkle Ford?”

She smiled cutely in Ford’s direction, despite being unable to see him. “I’ll bet one of those PhDs is from mastering the study of Great-Uncle-ing, isn’t it? Hmm~?”

“Well, if we’re getting into the specifics,” Ford began. “The field of studies I majored in were biology, archaeology—dabbled in Hyper-Advanced Engineering and Fifth-Dimensional Calculus for three semesters, deeply regret trading the rest for an extra semester of Applied Quantum Phase Theory—”

He paused. “Oh, that was a joke, wasn’t it?”

Mabel let out a giggle. “The PhD part was, the Dr. Grunkle Ford part was not. That was also not a ‘no’ so I’m gonna tuck that away for later.”

She made a motion to grab something out of the air, and pretended to drop it into her pocket. “And just ‘cause you can’t see it, I grabbed the nickname out of the air and dropped it into my pocket,” she explained, patting her skirt. “It’s resting right next to my blob of sticky poster stuff as we speak.”

“Hey, Soos, are we able to take off our blindfolds yet?” Dipper asked.

“Just a little further ahead—ooh, okay, stop, stop!”

Soos came to a stop himself, smile wider than ever. “Alright, esteemed guests! You may now remove your blindfolds and behold the wonders the Shack has to offer! …Or, at least, get an idea of what the Shack has to offer when we’re not closed!”

Four pairs of hands met cloth as the Pines reached up to lower their blindfolds and take in the sight before them.

The area situated between the shack and the edge of the woods was reminiscent of a carnival after all the guests had gone home for the day—the grass a tamped-down mess of discarded pamphlets and trash, and a wide selection of empty displays surrounded them on all sides. To their left stood a tall aquarium that stretched around ten by ten square feet, filled nearly to the brim with placid water. Further ahead was a lengthy presentation stage, littered in the remains of unidentifiable objects made of wood, stone—anything that looked like it would’ve been a challenge for a regular human to destroy. Ahead of that was an artificial recreation of a magical forest glenn, one perfect for a unicorn to kneel before in a graceful and elegant fashion.

A series of perches for winged creatures both big and small. A small pet bed the perfect size for a plaidypus. A collection of scattered Pitt Cola cans near a skateboarding ramp covered in massive, yeti-like footprints and tire tracks. Empty display after empty display surrounded the Pines family as they looked around, each a clear indicator of what beings would normally occupy them during business hours.

And if the sight wasn’t enough, Soos was happy to confirm it as he lead them forward: “Now, this is our Main Exhibit Area,” he said, and gestured around himself. “Any live beings for these attractions would normally be gathered here for their demonstrations—”

“Live beings?” Dipper asked with a hopeful sparkle in his eyes. “As in we’ve started including actual, real monsters and creatures and stuff?”

“You know it, dude!” Soos said.

Mabel smooshed her face against the side of the large, glass tank, pupils darting back and forth while questions spilled out of her mouth at breakneck speed: “Is this a mermaid tank? How many mermaids are here? What are they like? …Are any of them Mermando?”

“Reminder that you’re in a relationship,” Dipper said.

Mabel pulled her face back with an audible pop, before giving her brother a pointed stare. “I wasn’t asking so I could date him again! It’d just be nice to catch up with an old friend!” 

She moved a hand to her forehead, rubbing the spot where skin had met glass. “Besides, you act like Dev wouldn’t be cool with being in a polyamorous relationship with a mermaid.”

“...You know, that is probably something he’d be cool with.”

“Soos said he had a feeling you’d like the mermaid tank,” Melody said, coming up beside them. “And Wendy had a feeling that you’d love to see me jump into it.”

Mabel stared up at her, eyes wide. “I would love nothing more.”

“Called that one,” Wendy said with a smug grin.

Using the ladder near them, Melody climbed up and onto the wooden platform on top of the tank, pausing only for a moment to fiddle with something in the very center. After a few seconds, she lifted the half she was not kneeling on upwards and held it still for the group to see.

Rather than being made completely out of wood like the other half, the ‘lid’ was made up of sturdy, steel bars with gaps between them. Like the bars of a jail cell, if the rest of the jail cell had been laid on its back and made of glass. “We like to close and lock the lid between mermaid demonstrations,” she explained to the Pines family. “Keeps any bold tourists from trying to climb inside.”

“You lock your mermaids up?” Mabel asked, hands pressed to her mouth in horror.

“Wha—oh, no, don’t worry!” Melody quickly assured her. “We only lock it up once Mitch is outside of it and in his portable tank—hey, Soos, Wendy, can you guys—”

“Oh, yeah, one sec.”

Both Soos and Wendy hurried over to the opposite end of the tank and held out their arms, as if preparing to catch something out of the air. Once they were in place, Melody arched the lid up and over towards the side where they stood. While it quickly swung downwards at the two of them, they stood firm as they caught it in their arms, before gently guiding it to rest against the side of the tank.

Looking pleased, Melody turned her attention back to the kids. “Alright, I’m not even gonna try to do a proper mermaid dive into this thing because there’s a good chance I might break my neck,” she said. “So are we fine with a cannonball instead?”

“Cannonball! Cannonball!” Dipper and Mabel chanted in unison.

“Cannonball!” Soos added with just as much enthusiasm.

“Sounds like a yes to me!” Melody said, and took a small step back from the gap. “Get your cameras ready!”

Mabel held up her cell phone with a bright smile, before taking a cautious step back from the tank. “For safety measures,” she explained. “Don’t want what happened to Dipper’s phone to happen to mine~!”

“There was a chicken in science class, caught on fire and set off the sprinklers…” He shrugged in mild annoyance. “I had to get a new phone, it was a whole thing—”

“Shshshsh,” Mabel said, taking one hand off her phone to wave him quiet. “We can exchange cool stories after the tour! Cannonball time!”

“Oh, right—go for it, Melody!”

And with that confirmation, Melody took a deep breath jumped up and over the open side of the tank, folding her body into a cannonball shaped before she sank down into the water. Water that splashed up and out, soaking the grass around the tank and the toes of anyone who hadn’t followed Mabel’s example and backed up to safety.

While Melody breached the surface and swam to the tank’s side, Soos looked back down to his flashcards. “As you can imagine, normally a trick like this would be done by our hired merteen, Mitch,” he explained. “He would do a few tricks, explain a few of the basics of being a merperson, and then answer a few questions from the audience about being a mermaid and stuff.”

Melody propped her folded arms over the side of the tank. “And since I’m not an actual mermaid, I can’t really answer any real mermaid questions,” she said. “Or, at least, not as well as someone who’s been one their entire lives. But if anyone’s got any about how the exhibit works in other ways—”

“And Mabel’s hand is already in the air.”

Dipper flicked a thumb towards his sister, who was waving her arm about so frantically that it was a miracle that it didn’t go flying right off her body. Melody smiled and gestured to her with a damp hand. “Go ahead, Mabel.”

“Because I didn’t get any answers before, I repeat my questions from earlier,” Mabel said. “How many mermaids are here? What are they like?”

She turned her nose up at Dipper. “And would there happen to be an old friend of mine by the name of Mermando among them?” she asked. “One I am not interested in dating again, but one I would like to say hello to, despite what a certain someone might think—”

“Laying it on a little thick, aren’t we?” Dipper asked.

“Ehhh, we only got the one merman and I doubt you’d be interested in dating him,” Wendy answered. “He’s kinda dull, one of those beach-dude types who’s overly obsessed with surfing and sun…”

She flicked a thumb towards the skating ramp. ”Gets along pretty well with the Abominable Bro-men who hang out at the halfpipe, though.”

“Speaking of which, he headed down to the California coast for the summer,” Soos said. “Apparently he’s got a lot of family down there—”

“Makes sense,” Dipper said with a nod.

“Totally tracks,” Mabel added.

“—which means that the only mermaid exhibit you’ll get to see for the next three months is Melody’s,” Soos continued. “Unless another one applies for a job soon, that is. ‘Course we’ll still need to check their resume, confirm their resources are legitimate—”

“Which could happen,” Melody said, as she pulled herself up onto the edge of the tank. “I’ve got a couple of interviews lined up.”

She looked towards the older Pines twins. “What about you two? Got any mermaid questions for me?”

“I’m afraid any questions I might still have about mermaids would only be able to be answered by actual mermaids,” Ford said, and looked towards the rest of the displays. “And I assume the same applies to the rest of the exhibits.”

He cast them both a smile. “But I’m in full support of this method of showcasing them! I mean, using the supernatural beings of Gravity Falls as willing exhibits, and providing a chance for everyone to grow accustomed to each other in a neutral setting?” 

He tossed his hands in the air. “All with education lessons about each creature added to the mix? Quite the scientific approach to this sort of thing, color me very impressed!”

“Well, we kinda have you to thank for the idea, Dr. Pines,” Melody said. “You and the kids, of course.”

Once again, Ford found himself bewildered by the sudden praise and he tilted his head with a curious look. “Care to explain?”

“See, I spent sooooo much time with Dipper and Mabel last year,” Soos explained. “And they spent sooooo much of their time doing lots of cool, mystery stuff! Whether it was fighting some big monster or just trying to find out more about the super-mysterious author guy who wrote the journal that Dipper found in the woods—”

He once again pointed at Ford with a playful grin, before continuing: “—we learned about a lotta weird dudes! And with the town coming together and everything after Weirdmageddon, that meant a lotta those weird dudes were walking around in broad daylight. Which meant a lotta tourists started seeing those weird dudes walking around in broad daylight!”

“And as most tourists do, plenty had questions about them,” Melody continued from the water tank. “So with the Shack being one of the most popular locations in town, some talk was thrown around about us providing a space for those beings to answer their questions!”

“It probably helps that a lot of those weird dudes hid in the Mystery Shack during Weirdmageddon,” Wendy added. “So you know, didn’t take a lot of convincing to get them involved, since they kinda consider it a safe haven now.”

“That’s so cool!” Dipper piped up excitedly.

“It’s brilliant,” Ford agreed. “During my years of research, I spent so long studying all the strange and mysterious beings of this town. How they came to exist, how they functioned—”

He placed a hand to the side of the tank. “Not just them but the weirdness that surrounded the town as a whole. Why all of it was so drawn to this tiny, Oregon town out of anywhere else in the world—”

“Imagine it, Sixer—a whole dimension of weirdness! One where the strangest and most bizarre beings the Multiverse has to offer call home! All waiting for someone as brilliant as you to pop on over and show the world what they—and you—can do!”

“You really think so?”

“Buddy, I know so! This is the way genius happens! …With a little help from a friend, of course!”

The hand against the glass curled into a fist as Bill’s voice once again pounded through his skull, the memories of their ‘research’ together gripping his insides like a vice. All those years of hard work for naught, all that wasted time being fed promises from the honey-dipped spoon of a liar, the bitter truth hidden from sight until it was too late to spit it back out—

He slowly unclenched his hand with a shuddery exhale. Deep breath, just relax. Everything was fine. “—well, this whole setup is making me reminisce on more nostalgic times,” he finished with a forced smile in Soos’s direction. “That’s all.”

If Soos had caught on to his half-truth, he didn’t show any sign of it in his own expression. Rather, his own smile simply widened further as he looked to Stan. “What about you, Mr. Pines?”

Ford couldn’t help but look to his brother as well, and his eyes once again met a matching pair as the two of them stared at each other in another shared silence.

The rigidity in Stan’s features from before had returned. Far less prominent than it had been back in the house, but the way his jaw was set, the cold, studious gaze behind worn lenses—

“All I wanna know is how much this kinda stuff’s costing the two of you.” 

And quick as a flash, Stan had turned back to the rest of the group, arms folded across his chest and any sense of tension in his features nonexistent. “Don’t get me wrong; I think usin’ all the ghouls and goblins of this town to get more money outta tourists is a great idea—”

“You mean like what I suggested last year?” Dipper pointed out.

“Last year I was still playin’ dumb about all of that, in the hopes it would keep you kids outta trouble,” Stan reminded him. “Think we can safely say that ship has sailed by now. Besides, I ain’t the big man in charge anymore, so whatever changes you make to the shop are up to you and you alone.” 

He directed the back half of his sentence at Soos and Melody as he turned to face them again. “But you know me; always lookin’ at the side of business with the dollar signs. And I just wanna know if you’re turnin’ more of a profit than what you’re spendin’.”

Ford’s gaze continued to linger on his brother for a moment more, before he turned to them as well. “Stanley raises a good point. While I clearly support the desire and motivation to help others approach the supernatural beings of the Falls with a more respectful and scientific mindset—well, as Stanley put it so eloquently, such methods aren’t exactly cheap.”

“Oh, that’s nothing to worry about,” Melody assured them. “If anything, the Shack is making more money than it ever did before!”

“Oh yeah!” Soos agreed. “Even taking into account all of the paychecks we give out—of course we pay anyone who’s part of an exhibit—”

“They’re employees after all,” Melody chimed in with a nod.

“—even taking all that into account, we’re doing really well!” Soos finished, tossing his hands into the air. “In fact, the Shack is more popular than it’s ever been before!”

Ford glanced back at Stan, scanning his features for any other signs of distress. However, Stan only seemed to perk up further at Soos’ comment, even going so far as to clasp a proud arm around his shoulder. “Well, then I have no complaints whatsoever! Show me another one of these magnificent, moneymaking—uh, m—uh…whatever, just show me another one.”

“Sounds like my cue,” Wendy said, and turned to the younger twins. “Who wants to see me break something over at the Manotaur stage?”

This time, Dipper and Mabel’s hand shot up in unison, and Wendy laughed as she lead them over towards the empty presentation stage. Much like back at the bus stop, the adults found themselves left behind as Soos helped a sopping-wet Melody back down the ladder and into the grass. 

“Well, the tour might not be how we usually do things, but at least they seem to be having fun,” she said, and reached up to wring out some of the water in her hair. “Plus getting a chance to jump into a tank of water on a hot summer evening’s probably the opposite of a problem.”

“You cannonball like no other,” Soos said, tone full of sincerity before he looked to the older twins. “So you’re really enjoying the tour so far, Mr. Pines? I know you probably won’t get a proper feel of the new exhibits until you’re able to take a real tour, and I know this is a huge change from how you used to do things—”

“Like I said, it’s makin’ this place more money than ever so I’ve got zero complaints,” Stan said with a shrug. “Your methods are smart, keepin’ up with what the people want like any good business should…”

His features shifted to something that almost resembled genuine pride, if one looked closely enough. “You’re…you’re doin’ good, Soos. Really.”

A single touch could’ve shattered Soos like glass, eyes swelling with tears of pure joy. “Thank you so much, Mr. Pines!” he said, and finally gave in to the urge he was probably holding since the moment the Stans arrived and scooped Stan up into a hug. “You’ve no idea how much this means to me!”

Any pride in Stan’s expression vanished in place of annoyance at being scooped, and he struggled fruitlessly against Soos’ embrace. “Alright, alright, save the huggy stuff for your fiance over there,” he insisted firmly. “Besides, didn’t Wendy say she wanted to show us another exhibit or whatever?”

“Oh, right!” Soos said, and looked to Melody. “Want me to hug-carry you over to the stage?”

“Soos, I’m soaking wet.”

“Then we’ll both be soaking wet!”

Recognizing a good point when she heard it, Melody shrugged and hopped into his arms and the two of them fell into a shared fit of laughter as Soos lead them both towards the Manotaur stage. 

Leaving the Stans as the remaining two near the mermaid tank. 

“Can you believe this?” Stan asked, with a light flick to the glass. “A mermaid exhibit with a living, breathing merman? And one not made out of random animal parts?”

“They really seem to have tapped into a brilliant method of showcasing the exhibits here,” Ford agreed, turning his attention to the glass as well. With Melody no longer inside, the water inside was slowly settling back to a calm and undisturbed state. “You really picked the right man to take up the reigns in your absence.”

“Yeah, I…I really did, huh?”

That heavy silence from before began to envelop the brothers again, nearly impossible to ignore by this point. Not even the whooping and hollering from the stage—apparently Wendy had started her demonstration without them—was enough to distract Ford from his growing suspicions that Stanley was hiding something.

With the way he kept looking at Ford, features set with that rigid expression that clearly obscured his actual feelings beneath, he was either hiding something or he needed to say something without the others nearby.

Well, they had a moment alone now. Best to do the straightforward thing and just ask directly. “Stanley, is everything alright?”

Stan snapped his attention from the tank to Ford so quickly that it was a miracle he didn’t pull something, and for a moment he did seem like he had something he needed to say—

—before his expression settled back into something more neutral as he leaned back against the glass. “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

It was an odd thing. With the many years of conning people under his belt, Ford had expected his brother to be far better at lying right to his face. “Are you sure?” he tried again, and leaned back against the glass as well. “You know you can talk to me, Stanley. It’s like you said before: we don’t have to deal with things by ourselves anymore. So, if you need to talk about anything, anything at all…”

This earned a small chuckle from Stan. “Throwin’ my own words back at me, huh? Cheap shot.”

He hesitated to reply for a moment, before giving him a halfhearted shrug. “I dunno, it’s nothin’,” he said. “I think I’m just having a hard time getting back into the swing of things now that we’re back in town. Just a lotta new stuff to get used to, stuff that wasn’t here last year…”

He cast Ford a smirk. “Guess you could say I’m having trouble gettin’ my land legs, instead of my sea legs,” he said, leaning over to nudge him with his elbow. “You—you get it? My land legs—”

Dodging the subject with a joke, and an incredibly cheesy one at that. A classic Stanley move to avoid talking about something he didn’t want to, one that only cemented Ford’s concerns further.

However, his first remark brought a thoughtful hand to Ford’s chin. “There have been quite a few changes in our absence,” he agreed. “It would make sense that it would be difficult for you to readjust, especially in regards to the shack.”

He cast a look towards the shack itself. “I mean, you were in charge of this place for what, thirty years? That’s about five times the number of years I lived here,” he said. “Not to mention Soos and Melody’s whole announcement, I can imagine that would be quite the surprise for you—”

“Only surprise there is that there’s apparently someone on this planet more nerdy than Soos,” Stan interrupted quickly, and crossed his arms. “What about you? How’re you holdin’ up?”

Ford stared at him, perplexed. “Me?”

“To quote the words you stole from me to then throw back at me; we don’t have to deal with things by ourselves anymore,” Stan said. “So do you have anything you wanna talk about?”

“Heads up!”

A shout from the stage sprung the brothers into action, and both jumped out of the way just in time to avoid a porcelain vase whizzing past at breakneck speed, right before crashing straight into the side of the cabin and shattering on impact.

“Sorry, guys!” Wendy called from atop the stage. “Think I put a little too much oomph into that swing!”

“I think you put just the right amount of oomph into it!” Mabel said from beside her, grin bright. 

“It was incredible!” Dipper agreed. “Can you do it again?”

“I dunno,” Wendy said, tapping the end of the bat against her boot. “The destruction of valuable properly really gets both the Manotaurs and the audience all riled up, so they tend to keep the going until there’s nothing left to destroy.”

She moved the end of the bat was moved to a discarded plank of wood near her feet, gently nudging it towards the edge of the stage. “And judging by today’s damage, it’s a miracle that one vase remained unscathed as long as it did.”

“Aw, boo,” Mabel said. “I wanna see more mindless violence!”

“Sadly that’s all I got for the big lugs for now,” Wendy said, letting the bat clatter to the stage. “You squirts know all about their deal already, so random trivia is kinda out of the question. I mean, I could always do the thing where they let someone from the audience challenge them in a fight, but ehh, I’ve already gotta clean up the displays on my day off—”

“Didn’t you choose to come to work anyway?” Mabel pointed out.

“—so I’m just gonna pass the baton to Soos,” Wendy continued, tossing a hand in Soos’ direction. “How about it, Soos? You’re the only one who hasn’t shown off one of the exhibits yet, it’s only fair you get a turn before we move on to the Big Stuff inside.”

“You make a good point!” Soos agreed with a nod, and glanced around at the remaining exhibits for a moment in thought. “Who wants to watch me try and do a kickflip over at the Abominable Bro-Men’s halfpipe?”

“Me! Me!” Dipper piped up enthusiastically. “You are absolutely going to fall and break your neck, so I’m in!”

Beaming, Soos turned back to the direction of the mermaid tank. “What about you, Dr. and Mr. Pines?” he called. “You wanna join us?”

The sudden vase attack had pulled both from their conversation long enough to grow distracted by the kids’ antics on the stage. At Soos’ call, however, the two of them exchanged a look with each other. “Like I was askin’ before,” Stan tried again. “Are you okay? You got anything you need to talk about?”

It was said in such a knowing tone, as if Stan could physically see the triangle-shaped echos that were permanently etched against the inside of Ford’s mind. As if he were just waiting for Ford to offer him the chance to swing another fist at them again.

But while swinging a fist at Bill had worked the first time around, Stan couldn’t exactly swing a fist at the nightmares that had plagued Ford’s head for as long as he could remember. And even if he could—

“I’m fine, Stanley,” he finally insisted aloud. “Really, I am. Perhaps it’s as you said, and it’s taking me more time to readjust to being back in town than I’d initially expected.”

He flashed Stan a weak smile, one that his brother hesitated to return for a few seconds. But eventually, the corners of Stan’s mouth curled upwards into a amused smile of his own. “Pretty sure my exact words were ‘having trouble gettin’ my land legs’,” he pointed out, clasping a hand on Ford’s shoulder. “Was a pretty good one, if I do say so myself.”

“Stanley, you realize that ‘getting your land legs’ is about as common of a phrase as ‘getting your sea legs’,” Ford pointed out.

“Nah, I’m pretty sure I made that one up,” Stan said, and plopping an arm across his brother’s shoulders. “Now come on, let’s go watch Soos break his neck or whatever he’s gonna do.”

“Personally, I’m not a fan of Abominable Bro-Men,” Ford admitted. “But with all this talk of neck-breaking, I think there should be at least one person there who knows how to reset a bone.”

“Oh, so you’re an expert with human bones—”

While the adults followed Soos towards the half-pipe, Mabel let out a disappointed noise. “Aww man, I wanted a chance to try and fight Wendy!”

“Eh, we’ve got all summer,” Wendy reminded her. “Besides, you’re telling me you’d miss a chance to watch Soos fall flat on his face?”

With a giggle, Mabel shoved her hands in her pockets. “Now I never said that—oh, wait—” 

She shuffled her hands around for a moment, before pulling them back out and peering into her pocket with an annoyed look. “Aww, dang it, I think my wad of sticky poster stuff fell out of my pocket somewhere.”

“Eugh, that probably means it’s all covered in dirt or something now,” Dipper said with a grimace. “Probably best to cut your losses and start a new one when school picks back up again.”

“Are you kidding?” Mabel protested, gaze now shifting around their feet. “I barely managed to collect as much as I did before the teachers started catching wind of my thievery!”

Taking care to avoid any of the broken debris, she dropped to her knees and pressed her face against the stage for closer examination. “By the time fall hits, they’ll probably have security guards around every single one of those cheesy pun posters that relate to each class’s specific subject! I’ll never be able to get the new one back to the size of the original!”

Dipper placed a hand on his hip. “You realize that this is a very weird and specific problem that only you could have,” he said, then paused. “You want me to help you look?”

“Nah, nah, you go ahead and watch Soos. Just snap me some pics with my phone.”

Without taking her eyes off the stage, she held out her cell phone to him. “Feel free to add whatever filters you want, I’m partial to the kitty-ears myself.”

“Of course you are.” 

While he hopped down from the stage and headed towards the half-pipe, Mabel continued to search on her hands and knees for the telltale blob. When the stage itself produced no results, she moved to retrace her steps from the stage to the mermaid tank, to the area where she was pretty sure she’d pulled the lump out of her pocket—Soos making them walk around blindfolded had been delightfully quirky at the time, but now it was just making her search all the more difficult—

THUMP!

The sound of something heavy hitting the ground snapped Mabel’s attention towards the edge of the forest, her gaze darting about wildly as she tried to locate the source. A goal that didn’t take long for her to accomplish; a conspicuous black mass was splayed out on the ground between a pair of nearby birch trees.

Her first guess was some kind of animal, until her gaze landed on a small, fleshy hand at the end of an arm. An arm, a head of messy hair, a pair of legs—

“Wait, that’s a person!”

Once her brain clicked two and two together, Mabel broke into a sprint towards the unknown—potentially unconscious—body. Sure enough, her suspicions were confirmed once she reached it and knelt down to investigate.

They were short, probably not much taller than her or Dipper at full height. And as Mabel rolled their unconscious body onto their back to get a closer look, further similarities between the mysterious person and Dipper presented themselves to her.

They had the same facial structure, their noses were the same rosy shade of peach that was slightly darker than the rest of their face. Even their messy mop of hair fell over their eyes in the exact same way Dipper’s did when he wasn’t wearing a hat, although his usual brown shade had been swapped for a light bleach-blonde that would make the entirety of Sev’ral Timez weep with envy.

Despite the similar physical features, the mysterious person’s fashion sense differed from Dipper’s in every way. Rather than the casual shirt, vest and hat combo that Dipper wore on a regular basis, the person was dressed in a black jacket and pants, bow tie, yellow button up—an unusually fancy outfit for someone who might’ve just fallen out of a tree in the middle of the woods.

“What’s wrong, Pumpkin?”

Drawing her gaze from the body, Mabel looked up to see Stan approaching her with a curious look. “I think someone fell out of one of the trees,” she explained. “I heard a loud thump, and saw them lying here. I think they might be a kid—”

“What’s going on over here, dudes?”

Stan turned to see Ford and Soos coming up behind him, a skateboard tucked safely under Soos’ arm. “I was just gonna wait until everyone was at the half-pipe ramp,” Soos explained. “Dipper said Mabel was looking for something, and I’m in no rush.”

He flashed a grin in Stan’s direction. “Even if I’d love to get to the inside part of the tour as soon as possible, you are gonna flip when you see it, Mr. Pines—”

“What’s wrong, Stanley?” Ford asked, echoing his brother’s earlier question.

“Accordin’ to Mabel, some kid fell out of a tree or something,” Stan said, with a look to Soos. “What, you’re just lettin’ kids climb in the trees around here now? You lookin’ to get sued by some Patsy or Jane with straight bangs and a failing marriage that she insists on makin’ everyone else’s business?”

Soos innocently raised his hands. “I didn’t let anyone do anything, I swear! Maybe he was part of the last tourist group of the day and got separated from them before they left? Haven’t had any parents show up looking for a lost kid, though.”

“Either way, we should probably call 911.” 

Ford knelt down beside Mabel and pressed two fingers to the unknown child’s neck. “Well, they have a pulse so they’re probably alive,” he said, then pulled his hand back. “Of course, a lack of pulse doesn’t rule out the possibility of them being undead. But if they did fall out of a tree, they could possibly have a concussion. So either way, it’s a concern.”

“Well, let’s hope you don’t have to rip out the spine of this one,” Stan said.

While they conversed, Mabel gingerly placed a hand on the kid’s shoulder and gave it a light shake. “Hello? Are you alright?”

There was no response, so she tried again with a bit more force. “Hey, kid, I hope you know that you just fell out of the sky!” she said with a bit more urgency. “Which is probably not out of the norm for kids in Gravity Falls, but still, it’s a little worrying!”

The child remained still for a moment more—

—before their body began to tremble with a quiet chuckle. A quiet chuckle that slowly morphed into a full-on laugh.

Any relief that might’ve started building inside Mabel was snuffed out in an instant as the laughter—that cold, cruel laughter—only grew more audible, and sent her crawling backwards in a panic as the body slowly rose up from the ground and turned to face her.

Now that Mabel got a better look at his face, the similarities to her brother were so clearly skin deep. Their aforementioned features were the same as before, but Dipper never smiled in a way that revealed all of his teeth and gums at once, like a young child being told to smile for the first time in front of a camera.

Dipper’s limbs weren’t quite as gangly and limp as the other boy’s, like a marionette being controlled by an inexperienced puppeteer who hadn’t mastered the art of making their body move naturally.

And Dipper’s eyes weren’t that terrifying, familiar shade of jaundice yellow, complete with slitted, catlike pupils that bore deep, deep into her very being.

“Grunkle Ford!”

Her panicked shout—one that spilled out of her on complete instinct before she could even process what she was saying—was far from necessary. Ford had completely frozen when the laughter had started, features aghast and grim as he stared at the child, as that wicked, horrible laughter droned on and on—

CRACK!

And suddenly the laughter was silenced, and the same sound of a body hitting a ground as before drew Mabel’s attention back to reality.

The child was unconscious again, now with a decent sized welt on the back of his head. And beside him stood Wendy, the bat from before in hand and her body hunched over while she tried to catch her breath. “Saw…saw what was happening,” she explained between sharp gulps of air. “Heard the laughing. Panicked…”

The only sound to break the silence that followed for a few seconds was the faint rustling of the wind through the trees, until a pair of approaching footsteps against the dirt drew everyone’s heightened attention towards the sound in a panic. 

Much like the others had done, Melody and Dipper were approaching the group from the direction of the half-pipe. Upon seeing their petrified expressions, Melody held up her hands. “Woah, woah, hey, what’s going on?”

From beside her, Dipper lifted up something he was clutching tightly in his hands—one of the discarded planks of wood from the Manotaur’s stage. “I heard Mabel yell and saw Wendy run over here with her bat,” Dipper added. “Thought it’d probably be smart to grab a weapon, too—”

“Get a rope.”

Ford didn’t tear his gaze from the body as he responded in a low tone, as if it would vanish the moment he looked away. As if he, or everything around him, would shatter in an instant if he dared tear his attention away from the body that had previously been letting out that horrible, horrible laughter. 

The laughter that had haunted his dreams for four decades, the laughter still bouncing off the inside of his skull, even after Wendy had silenced the source.

When he didn’t elaborate further, Dipper looked to one of the other adults for an explanation—

“You heard him! Get a rope!”

It was Stan who replied next, and actually spun to face them with a grim expression. “A rope, chains…if it can be used to tie someone up, then get it!”

“It’s code yellow, Melody,” Wendy said quickly. “Soos, do we still got that unicorn-hair rope?”

“Same place as it always is,” Soos said, and looked to Melody. “Come on, we need to hurry—I’ll get the moonstones, you fetch the mercury.”

Recognizing their urgency, Melody looked to the unconscious body on the ground. “...That’s him, then?”

“Did you hear me, I said get a rope!”

It was Ford who spoke again, tone more demanding as he finally tore his gaze from the body to glare at them. “If I have to say it a third time—”

“Oh, okay, yeah, that answers that question,” Melody said quickly, and gestured for the rest of them to follow. “Alright, there’s a rope and a chair to tie him to in the shack. But who’s gonna—”

“I’ve got it.”

Letting the bat clatter to the ground, Wendy scruffed the unconscious child by the back of his jacket and hoisted him up into the air. “Let’s get him inside.”

With mild chaos, the group hurried towards the Shack with the unconscious child in hand. Leaving the bat, Mabel’s unfortunately-missed blob of blue poster tack lying several yards away, and the remaining exhibit displays abandoned as the first real hints of night began to peek their way through the treetops.

A searing ache throbbed at the back of his skull while consciousness returned to him once again. No pain in recent memory compared to something like this; even getting his eye ripped out of its socket had been more of an inconvenience at worst. It took forever to regenerate those things!

The closest thing he could compare such intense pain to was his outright death, which sent a jolt of panic through his mind that only furthered his headache. He wasn’t dead again, was he—

“Why would I go through all this effort to bring you back, only to deceive you about what I have to offer?”

Oh. Right.

Any concerns were washed away in an instant as the feathery face of the shelduck drifted to the front of his mind. Not just their face, but the conversation the two of them had shared in the mindscape. The game they had wanted him to play, their contract, the destruction of the barrier as a prize—

—something was wrong.

Even with his eyelid still closed, Bill could physically feel a disconnect with his body. 

It was difficult to verbalize properly—his eye felt too distant from his limbs, and his usual shape felt noticeably altered. As if he’d slipped into a costume with lots of awkward parts, ones that stuck out in ways that forced him to be aware of their existence as he tried to descend down a narrow passageway.

Almost exactly how he’d felt whenever he possessed someone in the past. 

But the way the body suited itself around his existence, it didn’t feel like it would belong to a talking, anthropomorphic shelduck. Even with his eye closed, Bill could still feel a lack of any feathers pinpricking their way through his skin, or a beak protruding from his face—

“When did I ever say you were going to possess me in this game?”

…Ah.

Alright, even he couldn’t ignore a good loophole dodge when he saw it. Point to Tangy for their oh-so-clever little trick; he’d be sure to give them kudos for it later. 

Kudos in the form of soaking their tacky windbreaker in a gallon of rotten tuna fish for a month. Good luck getting the smell out after that one, Birdbrain!

“—what if he’s not even in there anymore?”

“Yeah, he could’ve jumped out after Wendy clunked him on the back of the head!”

“Are we even sure it’s him in the first place? Just sayin’, some random kid cackling maniacally in the middle of the woods isn’t the weirdest thing to happen around here.”

“Everyone just hold on a second, I’m trying to think—”

The sound of frantic, hushed voices stirred him further awake, and he fluttered his eyelid—no, wait, eyelids plural—open the tiniest amount to investigate. 

It didn’t seem like Birdbrain had taken any extreme measures with his vision; he still possessed a functioning eyeball. But rather than being set in the center of his face, his vision had taken a hard shift to the left and weakened to a noticeable degree. And while his vision hadn’t carried over to the right side of his face, he could feel another eyeball rotating around in its socket.

Almost as much as he could feel a set of teeth and tongue in a separate cavity much lower on his face—oh, eugh, he’d forgotten how bizarre it felt to have his face parts separated like this, and not even the fun kind of bizarre!—or a protruding nose right smack dab between his new pair of eyes.

Alright, so Birdbrain had gone humanoid for his vessel. Bit cliché, but nothing he wasn’t used to by this point. And if his mouth and eye placement weren’t enough to confirm this fact, peering open his eyelids further revealed his head to be slumped forwards, gaze fixed on a pair of black-panted human legs that were clearly attached to his body.

Yep, there was no denying that he’d been slapped back into a meatsuit mecha.

An even-riskier peek around him revealed he was currently tied up in some sort of bedroom. One clearly owned by the word’s most generic older woman of all time; creme-colored floral wallpaper decorated the walls, a shelf lined with creepy, porcelain dolls was situated near the door, and a comfortable old recliner had been set up near the fireplace—

—hang on, wasn’t this just the parlor room in the Shack?

“He’s awake!”

Shoot. Guess he’d made it a bit too obvious that he’d regained consciousness.

Bill’s head snapped up to full height at the sudden exclamation, only find himself on the receiving end of a number of different intimidation methods—all to various degrees of effectiveness.

Mabel’s weapon of choice was her beloved grappling hook. One of the better options of the bunch; metal was strong enough to shatter a fragile human skull if aimed at just the right spot and applied with just enough power and force. Terrible for his current vessel, but Bill could appreciate a healthy level of bloodlust.

Stan’s brass-knuckled fists were—admittedly—also an inspired choice, given how effective his fists had been in the past. A fact that Bill was happy to ignore and brush to the side as he shifted his attention over to—

—the random plank of wood in Dipper’s hands, one he was gripping tightly with all the intimidation of a mildly-inconvenienced kitten. Yeesh, had he even tried?

Of course, Pine Tree’s embarrassing incompetence was compensated in full by the gun in Ford’s hand, both the barrel and his own violent gaze locked onto Bill like his life depended on it.

Hmm, that was annoying.

And here Bill had hoped he could keep his return discreet for at least a short while before these suckers caught wind. Maybe strike some fear and uncertainty in their naive minds by staring ominously at them through their windows, only to vanish from sight when they came over to investigate. 

Were their minds playing tricks on them now that they were back in town? Were they simply paranoid as a result of what happened the year before? Or was there really someone watching them beyond the shadows of the trees? 

Maybe if his methods were effective enough, Ford would even start shooting at the woods in a blind panic. Heck, maybe one of the kids would even get caught in the crossfire!

Y’know, fun stuff like that.

But unfortunately for Bill, it seemed like he’d dropped right into the belly of the beast and Ford had gained the upper hand while he’d been unconscious. 

Any attempts to move his new human limbs revealed them to be restrained to the chair he was seated upon; arms tucked behind the back and bound at the wrists, torso tied in place—what, had there been a sale on rope or something? It was a miracle they’d left his legs alone—or maybe they’d just run out of rope by that point?

Nope, an abandoned piece near the far wall rendered that guess incorrect. Maybe they just hadn’t had enough time to restrain his legs, then?

Moving the focus back to his captors, Bill’s gaze bounced from person to person as he took a quick stock of their expressions. Unanimous hatred and fury trying so desperately to mask the uncertainty and fear behind their expressions. The clear desire to come across as intimidating, despite the trembling hands around their weapons.

So much fear, despite having the upper hand over him. Bill was tied to a chair and barely conscious, yet he could get a reaction like this outta them?

Good.

Because otherwise, he had no idea how he would be able to spin this situation to his advantage. With the element of surprise and mobility no longer an option for him, tapping into those fears and insecurities was the only weapon that Bill had left at his disposal.

Speaking of which—

The silence in the room stretched on as the Pines continued to stare at him, to the point where Bill was starting to grow bored. Sure, leaving them forever entrenched in uncertainty might be fun in theory, but that also required him to remain quiet for just as long.

And while that wasn’t an impossible order, Bill Cipher was not the kind of triangle to sit and behave quietly if he had any say in the matter.

He needed just the right comment to break the ice. A perfect reintroduction to his presence in their lives, one that would only strengthen that fear behind their eyes.

“I gotta ask, what didja think a gun was gonna do against me?” he asked with a grin at Ford. “I mean, do you really think regular old bullets are going to be enough to get the job done?”

His pupil flicked over to Dipper. “Guess it’s better than whatever Junior’s got going on over there, though,” he said. “Seriously, Pine Tree, a piece of wood? I guess you might have a chance at beating me in a game of interdimensional rock-paper-scissors, but outside of that, I don’t like your odds.”

Just for good measure, he punctuated everything with his loud, trademark cackle—one that shook the room and everyone in it.

Oh yeah, that’d do the trick nicely.

Sure enough, everyone’s grip on their weapons tensed, the fear in their faces now completely tangible as the worst scenario they could possibly imagine was confirmed.

“Bill.”

It was Ford who spoke first, tone marinaded in venom as he stared Bill down. Such vitriol sent another cackle throughout Bill, his body wiggling with delight against the bonds that held him to the chair. “Aww, it’s good to see you too, Sixer~!” he said sweetly. “What’s it been, about nine months now? Nice beard, by the way. Really brings your face together in a way that those sideburns didn’t, know what I mean?”

His amusement fell with a vindictiveness he made no attempt to mask. “Although if you ask me, I’d suggest taking up that old face-burning habit of yours to clear everything up and start fresh,” he said, narrowing his eye—eyes. “I mean, you’re clearly the expert in burning things around here. Facial hair, bridges, minds with me in them—”

Bill was cut off by the cold, threatening steel of the gun barrel being pressed against his cheek, pupil flitting up to Ford’s own cold, threatening gaze. “Stop talking.”

Oh, he was real mad. 

Of course, not even Ford’s ire was enough to silence Bill completely, and he managed a smug grin despite the distortion of his cheek against the weapon’s tip. “Again I ask: just a regular gun? No Quantum Destabilizer? No memory-erasing device or fancy-schmancy magical weapon from your precious journals? You must really getting dull in your old age if you're busting out the repeat performances, Fordsy.”

He tilted his head, half in thought and half to give himself some breathing room. “Although I have to wonder why you didn’t just try to kill me while I was knocked out, if you’re this trigger-happy?”

The answer to that one was pretty obvious. Given their initial reactions, they hadn’t been certain if he had actually been possessing someone—and they weren’t about to go and murder an innocent human on the off-chance they were wrong. And now that he was awake and his presence confirmed, they weren’t about to go and murder an innocent human while he was possessing them.

And if that was truly the case, it probably meant he was free to run his mouth as much as he wanted.

Probably. 

Maybe?

“Ooh, lemme guess: you wanted me to be awake before you pumped me full of lead?”

…Aw, heck with it; he couldn’t resist a chance to press a few more of Ford’s buttons! To really test the waters on what he could get away with saying or doing. “Well, I’d love to see you take your best shot at it~!” he continued with a wide grin, one that show far too much of his gums. Guess that was one benefit to having a humanoid vessel again. “I know it’ll probably get a real laugh outta the poor sucker I’m puppeting around now—”

There was a click of the hammer as the tip was pressed further into his cheek, to the point where not even leaning away from it would pull Bill out of its line of fire.

Alright, limit reached for the time being. “Okay, okay, geez, I get the picture,” he said, rolling his eyes in annoyance. “Can I at least ask for a mirror or something? I wanna see what I’m working with over here.”

Okay, maybe one more. “I’d fetch one myself, but as you can see, I’m a bit tied up at the moment~!”

Ha. Hilarious.

Luckily for him, his clever little risk seemed to pay off in the unexpected way of making Ford lower his weapon, with an added bonus of painting a look of confusion across his face. And judging by the looks being exchanged between the other family members, it was clear that his little joke had been far more effective in causing confusion than he’d originally intended.

After a few more minutes of perplexed silence between them, it was Mabel who eventually—and hesitantly—spoke up with a: “You…don’t know what you look like?”

Hmm, an unexpected question to follow the unexpected responses. And a stupid one at that; did she really expect him to give her the honest, unfiltered truth when prompted? If she did, the answer to that question would be a resounding “It’s funny how dumb you are, Shooting Star~!”, followed by a bout of condescending laughter to drive the point home. 

And the answer to her former question would probably be that same reply and condescending laughter. There was no chance across the entire multiverse that he would tell them about his little deal with Tangy. Birdbrain had said it themselves back in their mindscape: the second they found out that he was playing a game where the prize was the destruction of the barrier, the second Ford would do everything in his power to keep him restrained until the end of the game.

Or, well—more restrained than he was already.

Still, as good as his clever little joke had been, he had unintentionally dropped a small hint to them about his situation. 

Guess it was time to do what he did best; scramble their mushy little brains more than he’d done already and throw them completely off the right track. 

“I mean—it was all kind of a blur when I possessed the guy,” he said casually, leaning back in the chair as far as he could. “Didn’t exactly feel like stopping and sussing out all the details, not when the chance to stretch my legs again after spending nine months as a lawn ornament was right there in front of me—hey, come on—”

The barrel of the gun was at his cheek again as Ford gave him another warning look. “Don’t listen to a single word he says,” he said, directing the statement at the others. “We have no reason to believe that what he’s telling us is the truth, so don’t take any stock in anything he’s saying.”

Bill narrowed his eyes up at him. Spoilsport. Spoilsport and a hypocrite, to boot! “Oh, yeah, that’s rich, Sixer,” he said bitterly. “But I guess you would know what it’s like to give people a reason not to trust you, wouldn’t you?”

His functional pupil bounced over to Stan, the corners of his mouth twitching with the threat of a smile. “I’m just saying: the last time we saw each other, you were promising to finally give me that equation,” he said, with a look back to Ford. “But then when I ended up making the deal, it wasn’t your brain I ended up in, was it—OW!”

The tip of the gun was jammed so hard against his cheek that the skin would likely be bruised in the shape of a triangle later. “Stop talking—”

“Alright, that’s it.”

Before Ford could respond, Stan’s hand was back on his shoulder and gently goading him towards the door. “Ford, come on, let’s just—”

“Stan—”

“He’s tied up, Soos says the rope’s got the unicorn stuff woven into it,” Stan kept trying. “Let’s just step outside for a sec. Kids, why don’t you go with him? I’ll be with you in a few minutes, just—”

“We’re on it.”

Ford opened his mouth to protest further, but Mabel had already taken one of his hands in her own while Dipper claimed the other. “Come on, Grunkle Ford,” Mabel said, giving his hand an encouraging tug. “Let’s go wait in the hallway.”

“Yeah, why don’t you go ahead and leave, Sixer~?” Bill teased with a kick of his feet. “I’m sure I won’t go anywhere while you’re gone!”

A risky taunt, for sure. Ford had turned the gun on him enough times to prove that he was only a few more pokes away from throwing caution to the wind and sticking a bullet between his eyes, regardless of the consequences. Besides, the sooner Bill got the chance to be alone and collect his thoughts, the better. 

But at the same time, any opportunity to get under Ford’s skin was just too good to resist—nor did he have any desire to try resisting in the first place!

It seemed to be a lucky day for him in terms of taunt-rope balancing, because Ford pulled his hands from the kids’ embraces and trudged out of the room with calm, restrained steps. Steps clearly powered by every last ounce of self-control he could possibly muster, ones that suppressed a deep, brooding storm that swelled just beneath the surface.

Good. Seethe harder, Stanford.

Eventually the door shut behind him, leaving Stan and the kids—their own hands now void of any that possessed six fingers—behind. Although it was only a second later when the door cracked open again, and one six-fingered hand reentered their line of sight. 

A hand that Mabel immediately took hold of again before both her and Dipper hurried out into the hallway after him. Leaving only Bill, Stan, and a deafening silence left in the room.

A deafening silence that Bill was quick to break with a casual: “Gotta say, the beard look is waaaay more natural on you than it is on Sixer. Covers your ugly mug way better than his does.”

Apparently Ford had kept all of the restraint for himself because Stan was back to him before he could blink, and Bill had no time to brace himself as the older man grasped a rugged hand around his throat. “Listen to me, and listen good, Wise Guy,” he growled. “I don’t know how you got back here, and I don’t really care how.”

The hand around Bill’s neck tightened while he balled the other into a fist. “But I punched your lights out once, and I can do it again. As many times as it takes for you to stay down for good.”

He moved the first near Bill’s blinded eye, his good pupil following despite himself. “You try anything with my family again, you’re gonna know what it feels like to get punched to death twice. ¿Comprende?”

It was a threat Bill knew that Stan would hold himself to if necessary. One that Bill couldn’t help but feel a twinge of genuine fear towards as those final memories inside Stan’s head came rushing back to him. 

And for a split second, Bill could almost feel the terrifying heat of the flames around them, creeping nearer and nearer as they swallowed every last bit of the room in their destructive wake—

One fatal mistake…

—only for a brief moment, before he flashed Stan another toothy grin. “Seriously though, you should keep that beard. Maybe try and convince Sixer to shave his, I don’t know who I was kidding when I told him it looked good, that was such a bad idea on his part!”

His grin spread wider, once again revealing far too much of the inside of his mouth. “But then again, you might have a little trouble convincing him. Considering your poor track record in fixing mistakes.”

Stan punched him. Hard.

And when Bill crumbled with a shout, pain enveloping the area around his right eye that was sure to be bruised within minutes, Stan turned and stormed out of the room.

Yep—flew too close to the sun with that one.

— — — — — — —

Ford had barely made it out of the room before the stress of the situation brought him to his knees, and Stan entered the hallway to the sight of almost everyone else circled around him in an attempt to bring comfort.

Seeing him, Soos lifted his head. “So, is it really him?”

“Sure looks, sounds, and acts like it,” Stan said. “Alright, so the guy who tried to take over the universe and who we thought was dead is now tied up in the next room, very much the opposite of dead.”

He pressed a weary hand to his temple as he glanced around at the rest of the group. “...Does anybody have a game plan?”

From beside Ford on the floor, Mabel perked up. “What about that zodiac prophecy thingy Grunkle Ford tried to do during Weirdmageddon?” she asked. “Didn’t he say that was supposed to stop Bill?”

“Hey, yeah!” Stan snapped his fingers with an inspired look. “Great idea, Pumpkin, we could try that!”

“But don’t we need all of the symbol-things for it to work?” Soos pointed out. “And out of the original ten, we only have, like—” He paused to count heads. “—six of the people here that we’d need.”

From the spot near the wall where Wendy had seated herself, she lifted her head to join in on the conversation. “Well, then why don’t we just get the other four?” she asked. “I doubt it’d be hard to convince Robbie, Pacifica or the others to help us out. They probably hate Bill as much as we do.”

“We could also try the Quantum Destabilizer,” Dipper added thoughtfully, pressing a hand to his chin. “Grunkle Ford said it could blast Bill back into the Nightmare Realm, but I wonder if that would actually work without a rift to—you know, blast him back through.”

“What do you think, Dr. Pines?” Melody asked, directing the question at Ford.

And suddenly all eyes were back on Ford again, who had yet to move from the spot where he had collapsed after leaving the bedroom—too enveloped in his own overwhelming, smothering thoughts to take any notice to the others’ suggestions.

Bill was alive.

A scenario he had only envisioned in the worst of the nightmares that plagued his head on a nightly basis. A fear that lingered over him like the shadow of a starving predator, waiting to strike its unsuspecting prey when they least expected.

He had wanted to hope so dearly that he’d been dreaming when that child between the birch trees began to laugh in that horrific, familiar way. The bone-chilling laughter that often echoed through the deepest recesses of his mindscape, nothing more than a mere shadow of the one who had once produced it.

But this was no dream, no nightmare, nor a bad memory he could simply banish to the back of his mind—

Bill was alive.

“Dr. Pines?”

“The Zodiac Prophecy is a no-go,” he said, his words forming on their own as he returned to his feet. “The entire town believes that Bill is dead, and letting too many people know that he’s returned could ignite a panic.” 

He cast a tense look around at everyone else. “One would argue that too many people know about his return already.”

“Hey, come on, I don’t think anyone here’s in a hurry to go blabbing about him,” Wendy pointed out. 

“Regardless, it’s not a liable option at the moment,” Ford continued. “And unfortunately, neither is the Quantum Destabilizer. The only power source stable enough to power the device was only obtainable in another dimension, with the assistance of another another dimension’s Fiddleford McGucket—”

“Oh, yeah, that’s gonna be tough to get, then,” Melody spoke up. “Fiddleford's out of town for a few weeks with his family.”

“We had to put our weekly anime club meetings on hiatus until he got back,” Soos added sadly. “But, that gives all of us plenty of time to catch up on our latest show and discuss our thoughts once he’s back!”

Ford raised his hands. “Wait, that’s not what I—”

“Well, what about when he does get back?” Wendy asked. “I mean—like I said before, I doubt he’d be in a hurry to go blabbing to anyone else. Plus he’s probably smart enough to build anything we’d need to get rid of Bill.”

“Wait, I—”

“Yeah, yeah, good point, Wendy!” Stan said, waggling a finger at her. “The guy turned this place into a giant, robotic, triangle-punching whatchamacallit. He could definitely build some fancy-schmancy power source—”

“You’re missing the point!”

Ford’s fist hit the wall before he could even process his action, and suddenly the hallway was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. His frustration lingered for only a second, before he took a look at the concerned expressions around him—

—and the guilt swiftly drowned any other emotions that had been building inside his chest. “Sorry, that was—sorry,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Several pairs of shoulders unclenched as his arm fell back to his side, and Stan moved to him again. “Woah, woah, hey, come on, no one here’s about to judge you for swingin’ a fist,” he assured him. “Feel like outta anyone here, you deserve to do it the most.”

He flicked a thumb back at the bedroom door. “‘Sides, at least you held out as long as you could. I may have given the little jerk a—let’s call it a ‘welcome back gift’.” 

A pause. “I…I gave him a black eye, that’s the joke I was trying to make.”

“Non-refundable gift,” Wendy said with a proud nod. “Nice.”

“Stan’s got a point,” Dipper added from Ford’s side. “It’s Bill Cipher. I feel like if anyone deserves to be angry right now, it’s you.”

“Yeah, sorry for uh—sorry if we sounded like we weren’t taking this seriously,” Soos added. “I know how dangerous he is, and Wendy and I even told Melody everything about him ahead of time. Just in case something like this ever happened, of course. A big bad returning during a moment of peace is a common trope in sequels, after all.”

He rolled his hands together. “And since this is the summer after he died…you know, sequel summer? Just…just sayin’, it wasn’t outta the realm of possibilities.”

“I wasn’t sure how much of it was actually true,” Melody admitted. “But also I’ve seen way weirder stuff in this town. So if you all say that kid in there’s actually an evil triangle demon bent on destroying the universe, then I’d believe it.”

“There, you see?” Stan added. “Ain’t nobody here to judge. You be as angry as you want, punch another wall or two if you really gotta.”

“Although if it helps you swing at them less, clearly we’re all on the ball when it comes to thinking of ways to put Cipher back under the ground where he belongs,” Wendy pointed out. “Maybe the stuff we already suggested won’t work, but putting our heads together like this will probably get us somewhere a lot quicker than when you were just doing this by yourself, y’know?”

“Once again, Wendy knows what’s what,” Stan agreed, and gave her a thumbs up. “If I were still your boss, I’d give you a raise.”

“...No, you wouldn’t.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

He reached over to clasp a hand on Ford’s shoulder. “Point we’re tryin’ to make is that you’ve got your family here for you this time. You don’t have to deal with this alone again.”

“Yeah, Grunkle Ford,” Mabel agreed, casting him a weak smile as she once again tucked a hand into his own. “We’ll do everything we can to help you kick Bill’s butt again!”

Ford’s gaze fell to her face, sweet eyes wide with concern and small hands once again gripping his own tightly. He could feel them trembling, clearly masking just as much fear as he was harboring inside him—

—the same way his had trembled as he pulled the trigger on the memory gun, wiping every little trace of what made his brother himself from his mind. 

He forced his gaze to the man at his right, eyes moving up to the face that mirrored his own to a near-identical degree.

The face of the man Ford had cried over for a week straight while he worked so tirelessly, so desperately to restore those lost memories. For whom he had dug out every last movie reel, scrapbook—even old postcards that Stan had sent during his travels across the country, and with whom he had spent several long night poring over the contents. 

The man whose confused expression shifted to bright realization as the kids read out the jokes from his favorite joke book, jokes he would follow up with every terrible punchline with perfect recollection. The man who suddenly remembered his and Ford’s brush with the Jersey Devil mid-story, only to go on and tell the back half as if the two of them had only experienced it yesterday.

The man who had risked sacrificing all those precious memories, all of who he was for the sake of the world’s safety. For the sake of his family’s safety.

And now Bill was back, leaving that precious sacrifice nothing more than a pointless suffering for Stanley to have endured.

“I’ll figure out a way to stop Bill by myself,” he said suddenly, pulling his hand out of Mabel’s before turning to the others. “Someone’s going to need to stay up and keep an eye on him tonight anyway. I’ll use that time to come up with a plan, and we can reconvene tomorrow.”

He reached for the doorknob. “As for the rest of you, it’s late and you should be getting to bed.”

Everyone exchanged a series of unsure looks, which Stan vocalized with a: “Do you really expect the rest of us to just sleep while you deal with some all-powerful demon all night?”

“Also, do you really expect us to sleep at all with someone like that in the house?” Wendy added. “I mean, I know he’s kindaaaa—” She made a shrinking motion with her fingers. “—now, but this is the same guy that crawls through people’s heads like a sugar-laced kid in a Hoo-Ha Owl’s playplace, right?”

Ford looked to her, then the other adults with a raised eyebrow. “You said the rope had unicorn hair weaved into it?”

“Well, yeah,” Soos confirmed. “Plus we set up those moonstones, got you that mercury you needed—”

“We have a whole stash of everything in the storage room, too,” Melody added. “If you need any more of anything.”

“Then it should be enough to hold Bill in place for the night,” Ford said matter-of-factly. “And if it’s not—well, I’ll be enough to hold him in place for the night.”

Before anyone could question him further, the bedroom door was opened and shut behind him. Leaving the rest of them out in the hallway, the shrill and barely-muffled greeting of “Welcome back, Fordsy~!” in the bedroom only adding to the unsure aura surrounding them.

Despite the door being closed, Soos held up a hand to the side of his mouth. “Uh, okay! Good night, Dr. Pines!” he called. “Also if you’ve gotta shoot him, please aim the bullets away from Abuelita’s porcelain doll collection!”

Mabel finally let her arm—the one that she had kept outstretched even after Ford let go of her hand—fall back to her side with a dejected sigh. A look that Dipper immediately spotted and moved to her side to comfort her. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it,” he said reassuringly. “Ford’s just worried about Bill, that’s all. And he probably just wants us to stay safe.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t need to go around makin’ himself unsafe to do that,” Stan said, pressing a hand to his head with an annoyed huff. “Is he out of his mind? What’s he thinking, dealing with all of this by himself?”

Everyone else exchanged a look. “Well, if he doesn’t want our help then…what should we do now?” Melody asked.

With a sigh, Wendy took a wide step away from the wall. “Guess we do what the doc said and try to get some sleep. Dibs on the couch as usual, by the way.”

With that, the shuffled on down the hallway, while the rest of the group silently watched her take her leave. Once she disappeared around the corner, Soos pointed towards a door on the opposite side of the hallway. “Uh, I dunno if it’ll help at all, but Melody and I sleep in the room next to Abuelita’s,” he said to Stan. “If you want, we can sleep in shifts and check in on Dr. Pines for you.”

“And if anything actually happens, one of us can come get you,” Melody added. “Leaving the other person down here to help him if he needs it.”

“Yeah!” Soos said, nodding in agreement. “If anything happens, we’ll come get you, okay?”

Stan hesitated to respond—as if the idea was anything but okay to him—but eventually he gave them a tired nod in return. “Alright, you two. Just keep an ear out for him.” 

He leaned over and placed a hand on Soos’s shoulder. “And—should I not get here quick enough to do it myself—I give you my blessing to punch the pointy little jerk in my place.”

With a look of honor, Soos pressed a hand to his forehead in a salute. “I won’t let you down, Mr. Pines! I’ll even knock out a few of his teeth if I’ve gotta!”

“Good man, Soos,” Stan said, giving his shoulder a pat. “Now get.”

With Stan’s approval, Soos gestured for Melody to follow him to their bedroom. “I’ll be the one to come get you if we need to, then,” she assured Stan as they walked. “That’ll leave Soos open for—well, that.”

And soon their bedroom door closed behind them, leaving nobody but the remaining Pines in the hallway. And with a gruff sigh and the realization that they were the only ones left, Stan turned to face the kids.

Despite the reassurances from everyone else—and even each other—they had shuffled close to one another with their attention firmly locked on to the door of Abuelita’s bedroom. As if they expected Bill to come bursting out of it at any second.

Yep, that was about what he expected.

Another sigh brought Stan to their level, and he gave both of them a weak smile. “Well, you two knuckleheads heard everyone. Let’s head upstairs.”

The two exchanged an uncertain look. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Dipper asked.

“Yeah,” Mabel added. “I mean…it’s Bill.”

“If Ford’s so insistent on dealing with this by himself, then he’s probably got a couple of tricks up his sleeve to solve it by himself,” Stan pointed out, and reached over to lightly bap the top of Dipper’s hat. “It’s like you said, he probably just wants us to stay safe. And if he does need our help, then—well, he knows where to find us...”

Even he couldn’t bring himself to try and sound convincing by the end of his reassurances, but he gave both of them a nudge to move forwards before returning to full height. “In the meantime, let’s not give that demon the satisfaction of knowing he’s freaking all of us out and go get some rest, okay?”

After another look to each other, the younger twins eventually let themselves be lead down the hallway. Despite this, Stan counted at least three times where one of them would pause to look back towards the bedroom door, before they finally rounded the hallway corner and the room was barred from their line of sight.

The interior of the Mystery Shack had fallen silent by that point, save for the faint creaking of the wooden floor beneath their steps as they headed for and—after grabbing the bags they had dropped upon arrival—up the staircases that eventually brought them to the topmost floor of the shack.

Mere hours ago, the sight of the old attic would’ve been a nostalgic welcome back, like greeting an old friend after spending so long apart. And approaching the room at the far end would’ve been the equivalent of bringing that old friend into a warm hug.

Warm, friendly, welcoming—

But the air around the trio just felt so miserable as they slowed to a gradual stop outside the bedroom door, and Stan reached a hand to the doorknob. Rather than turn it immediately, he instead chose to direct his attention back at the kids. 

Silent attention—as if he wanted to say something, but struggled to find the proper words.

After a few, long seconds, he spoke with an uneasy: “Hey, uh, if you kids need to—you know…” The hand on the doorknob moved to the back of his head. “You gonna be alright by yourselves up here? You know you can always join Wendy in the living room, or come bunk down with me if you really need to, or something—”

The younger twins looked to each other in silent consideration, until Dipper finally spoke up: “I…think we’ll be okay,” he said, although his shaky tone implied otherwise. “If we’re really that scared, we can always sleep in shifts.”

“Yeah,” Mabel added with a bit more optimism. “And—and we’ll lock our door and window—”

An oink at the staircase drew a pointed finger from her, aimed at the pig who had ambled up the stairs after them. “—and we also have Waddles as an attack hog if we really need him! We’ll be okay!”

Her shoulders fell. “Right?”

Dipper folded his arms with a feeble nod, hands tightly gripping the sides as if he were attempting to keep himself grounded with such an action. “Yeah, we’ll…we’ll be okay.”

Stan didn’t miss this, and knelt down in front of them. “Hey, you two listen to me, alright?” he said, moving a hand to each of their shoulders. “I may not know how the little demon got back or why he’s back at all.”

The hands moved to ruffle their heads. “But what I do know is that I ain’t gonna let him lay a hand on either of you or Ford,” he reassured them. “And I don’t care how long it takes or how many times we gotta kill him before he stays dead. We’ll squash him for good if it’s the last thing we do—”

He was suddenly cut off by Mabel flinging herself at him in a tight hug, with Dipper quickly following suit. Stan remained still for a few seconds, before he wrapped an arm around each of them to complete the hug. “Alright…we’re gonna be okay, okay?”

He forced a smile as the two of them broke the hug. “And hey, look on the bright side,” he continued. “With the puny size he is now, we could probably just step on the little jerk and actually squash him to death!”

Sure enough, his weak attempt to lighten the mood brought a small pair of smiles to their faces. “We could get a pair of really big shoes,” Mabel added, smile widening further as she made a stomping motion with her foot. “Just go squish, like he’s a gross cockroach under a boot!”

“Are you implying that he’s not a gross cockroach already?” Dipper asked with a weak laugh.

“Touché, but I like painting a clear, visual picture of my words,” Mabel explained. “It’s almost as fun as painting an actual picture! Ooh, I wonder if I should paint an actual picture of Bill with a cockroach body—?”

“Save that for tomorrow,” Stan said. “Right now, you two need to get some rest. You’ve got a whole summer to look forward to, and I ain’t gonna let you kids miss a second of it.”

He gave them a wink. “Even with a sudden triangle-shaped cockroach thrown into the mix.”

Both gave him a smile—much wider than before—in return before finally shuffling to the door and pulled it open, revealing the waiting bedroom on the other side.

Aside from a lack of almost any dust on the furniture—had that been Soos and Melody’s doing?—the bedroom had remained mostly untouched since the previous summer. A few scattered googly eyes rested on the floor beside a forgotten food bowl for Waddles on Mabel’s side of the room, while several crumpled pieces of paper still filled Dipper’s old wastebasket.

And while uncertainty and fear still lingered in the air as the kids stepped inside, a bit of that old, nostalgic warmth did seem to be sneaking its way around them in a reassuring embrace. A reassurance that despite the evening’s stress, this was still a place they could call a home away from home.

After one last little smile at Stan—one he returned in full—Mabel shut the door behind them. Stan continued to wordlessly stare at the door for a few minutes, attention focused on the clicking of the lock, then the creaking of the wooden floor on the other side. When he was sure the sound had reached their beds, he finally turned and shuffled back towards—then down—the staircase, continuing onwards down the hall on the second floor until he reached the door to his own bedroom.

It was only once his hand touched the doorknob that his entire posture sank from exhaustion.

He once again lingered for a moment as he looked back towards the staircase that lead downstairs—before he shook his head and trudged on forward into the bedroom.

— — — — — — — — 

It was barely an hour later when Stan firmly concluded that he was not falling asleep anytime soon.

How in the heck was he supposed to sleep at a time like this? Bill was back! The evil triangle demon that had tried to take over the town—town? Universe? Dimension? Eh, all of the above.—and had haunted his brother’s mind for literal decades!

Ford had always downplayed how much weight Bill truly held over his mind, always reassuring Stan that he was fine whenever the topic came up in conversation and was always quick to change the subject to something unrelated. 

But if Ford really thought the guy who slept in the same cabin as him for months on end wouldn’t notice him crying out in his sleep—the names Bill, Cipher or both being shouted into his pillow with so much hatred and fear more times than Stan could count—then Stan had a bridge to sell him.

And if he really thought that he hadn’t picked up on the subtle little ways Ford would flinch or the way his mood would shift on occasion—probably due to some unearthed memories about Bill, ones that Stan so desperately wished he could just punch as hard as the guy who had burned them into his brother’s mind—then Stan had two bridges to sell him.

“But then again, you might have a little trouble convincing him. Considering your poor track record in fixing mistakes.”

With a grunt, Stan rolled over onto his back and squinted blindly at the ceiling. He didn’t trust the pointy little jerk as far as he could throw him but he’d raised a good point. What right did he have to stand—lie around and call Ford an idiot for not wanting to talk about Bill, especially when he’d been the one in charge of getting rid of Bill in the first place?

He felt his thoughts drift to the earlier events of the day, before all the Bill stuff had started. Soos’s wedding announcement, the tour of the new exhibits—

“The very weird point they’re to make is that none of this would’ve happened without you building the shack to begin with, Grunkle Ford. So in a way, a lot of this is because of you!”

“Well, we kinda have you to thank for the idea, Dr. Pines. You and the kids, of course.”

It didn’t bother him. 

Really, it didn’t.

So what if Soos wanted to give Ford the credit for tying the knot with the girl he liked, or for giving them the smart-guy science methods to make the exhibits more exciting? Even if Ford was terrible at hiding his Bill feelings, at the very least he’d seemed pretty flattered by all the praise. 

He’d felt appreciated, nostalgic over the new, science-y ways that Soos and Melody were bringing in customers. The kids were excited to be spending time with him this year.

Ford felt like he belonged.

What kind of jerk would Stan be to take that happiness away from him, especially after all the years that had been taken from him already?

At at the end of the day, it didn’t matter if people slapped Ford’s name over every single one of his own accomplishments. Honestly, after stealing his identity for three decades, Stan would willingly give up a few of his own accord if it made Ford happy.

If Soos wanted to give Ford credit for building the place that inevitably lead him to his fiancé—even if Stan had been the one running the place when Soos started working here—then fine. If him and the kids wanted to give Ford credit for the exhibit ideas—exhibits that were wildly improved from the two-bit slop Stan had been pushing for the past few decades—then fine.

It was fine.

But if there was one accomplishment that Stan thought nobody could take away from him, it was the ability to keep his family safe. Not just them, but Soos, Wendy—the entire town. They had all called him a hero, finally saw him as someone worth a darn—

At the end of the day, he had finally proven he was worth something to someone.

And then Bill came back, alive and unharmed. Stan had failed to kill him good and proper, and now he was back. Now he was back, and now Ford and the kids had to spend their summer in fear.

Now he was back, and Stan was truly worthless again.

After staring at the ceiling for about ten more minutes—and waiting another ten minutes for his nightly body aches to settle—he fumbled for his glasses on the nightstand and swung his legs over the side of the bed. And with the groan of a man whose bones were older than he was, he pulled himself to his feet, trudged out of the room and headed down to the first floor of the shack. 

The light of the TV stopped him at the living room doorway, and a quick peek into the room revealed that he wasn’t the only resident of the house who was still awake.

Despite the TV running some early morning infomercial for a cheap and useless product—one worth more than its share of that hyper-specific brand of scorn and mockery that only a snarky teenager could provide—Wendy’s attention was firmly glued to her phone as she tapped away at the keys.

At the sight of Stan in the doorway, however, she lifted her head with a curious look. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Whaddaya mean? Clearly I’m sleepwalkin’.”

“Haha,” she said, snapping her phone shut. “Gonna try again with Dr. Pines?”

“You know it,” Stan said, and placed a hand on the doorway frame. “You, uh—you holdin’ up okay out here?”

“Psh, don’t even start,” Wendy said, waving him away. “I mean, sure, I’ve got my share of worries about that little megalomaniac being back—”

She flashed him a grin. “—buuuut I think a lot of ‘em were pretty evened out by the fact that I got to clunk him in the back of the head with a bat!”

“Oh yeah, that was great,” Stan agreed with a smirk of his own, before pressing his hands together in a squishing motion. “Isn’t it soooo satisfying? The little jerk talks suuuuuuch a big game, but you hit him once and he crunches like a soda can.”

Wendy cackled at that, although her expression fell again as she cast a glance upwards. “How’re the squirts handling it?”

Stan followed her gaze up to the ceiling. “Well, they’ve stayed in their room so far, so my money’s on ‘probably as well as they can with somethin’ like this.’”

“Mmm…”

She flipped her phone back open, fingers once again tapping at the keys. “At least they’ve got each other through all this,” she mused. “The two of them combined are some of the toughest and strongest kids I’ve ever met. No matter what happens, they’ll get through it so long as they stick together.”

“Yeah,” Stan agreed, with a glance back towards the hallway. “At least they’ve got that goin’ for them…”

Both fell silent for a moment, before Stan turned to leave. “If you hear any yellin’ going on down the hall, it’s because I’m trying to convince Ford to go to bed,” he told her. “If I succeed, make sure he actually goes up to bed, okay?”

“You got it, boss.”

— — — — — — — —

The room was silent, save for the scratching of pencil to paper as Ford continued to write. 

Not for a lack of trying on Bill’s part; he had made several attempts to strike up a conversation with Ford already, but all had been shot down by either a menacing glare or the flash of the gun he kept within reaching distance.

And while neither were enough to completely shut Bill up, he did fall silent after the dozenth-or-so attempt to take advantage of the chance to gather his thoughts.

He’d agreed to play a game with that stupid duck and they’d plunked him back down in front of the shack. He assumed it had been right in front of the shack, at least; he did recall being greeted by the concerned faces of Mabel and Ford, along with some faint, blurry remarks about how he’d potentially fallen out of a tree—

—thank you, Birdbrain—

—but there was always a chance that they had stumbled across his body somewhere else and simply brought him to the shack to keep a closer eye on him. 

Regardless of how it had happened or wherever those suckers had originally found him, he was back in town as Tangy had promised. Sure, it had been a sneaky drop off with several details of what that drop off entailed omitted. But at the same time, they had still kept their word.

And while Bill still had plans to dunk that silly little windbreaker of theirs in tuna fish—perhaps with the added flair of tossing in a bottle of itching powder, Melt-Your-Skin-Clean-Off-Your-Bones-Juice, and maybe a splash of lime for taste—he could at least respect how much effort they had put into getting him here at all.

Planned retribution aside…eh, game could recognize game.

And speaking of game—

His thoughts shifted to the deal they had agreed upon, sealed with both a handshake and a signature. Three months, they’d said. He had exactly three months to play. Three months to find all the pieces of their dumb trinket and put it all back together again, Humpty-Dumpty style.

He briefly considered the idea of not playing their game at all—out of sheer spite for their deviousness in getting him here—but the idea was discarded as quickly as it formed. Despite their underhanded methods to get him back to town, they had been very clear about how strictly they had to stick to their contract. And even if they’d been lying about the legitimacy of said contract, they had still foolishly locked themselves into a deal with Bill himself.

Whether or not they truly planned on upholding themselves to their side of their deal didn’t matter—if he won their little game, Bill would either have a destroyed barrier or a duck subjected to an eternity of slow-roasting over an over fire in the Nightmare Realm. Maybe in the case of the second option, such torture directed at another being would be enough to get his buddies off his back when he returned. Heck, maybe he’d even get a spiffy new jacket out of the deal!

And that was simply the worst case scenario. Best case scenario, the barrier would be gone and no one would be able to stand in his way ever again.

And a prize that valuable was enough for him to humor the tacky idiot and romp around an annoyingly-familiar hick town in a meatsuit for a summer.

Even with his current situation, escaping wouldn’t be a difficult task to accomplish. Sure, he was tied so tightly to a chair that it would make Harry Houdini blush—he would know, he dabbled in a bit of dealmaking with the famous magician back during the height of his career—and the ropes apparently contained some of that fancy-schmancy unicorn magic that the household had used to protect the shack last year. A fact that soured Bill’s expression for a brief moment, but at the end of the day, even a magically-laced rope was still just a rope. And any rope could be cut with the right tool, or by the right sucker.

The sound of paper being ripped from a notebook distracted Bill from his thoughts, and a mischievous grin poked at the corners of his mouth as he cast a look in the direction of his six-fingered warden—just as the discarded page was crumpled into a ball and tossed it into the unlit fireplace.

Well, a sucker by any other year was just as gullible—or whatever.

Sure, Bill knew Stanford Pines would rather chew off his own extra fingers than be unpromptedly helpful to him in any way, shape or form. But even if a few details about the bigger picture had to be omitted—it wouldn’t be the first time when it came to Stanford—there were always ways for Bill to get people to do what he wanted.

The scratching of pencil to paper began again, and Bill lightly tugged against the binds that held his wrists. Well, while there were always ways to get people to do what he wanted, even he knew it was highly unlikely that he’d manage to trick Ford into freeing him tonight. And the near-silence of the room was starting to become agonizingly dull. 

To reiterate an earlier point, Bill Cipher was not the kind of triangle to sit and behave quietly if he had any say in the matter. Even if Ford was attempting to keep a lid on things now, there was always a way to annoy him into tossing out a few bits and pieces of information he had gathered in Bill’s absence. Perhaps some of that information would be of use to him.

Or maybe he would only succeed in getting the gun shoved in his cheek again.

Either way, the fifteenth attempt at starting a conversation was always the charm~!

“You know,” he began with a light kick of his feet. “I’m surprised you haven’t bombarded me with questions about how I got back yet.”

He saw Ford’s hand twitch in the direction of the gun, keeping his attention still firmly focused on his writing. “Don’t pretend you don’t want to, Fordsy!” Bill continued. “You and I both know for a fact that you’re a man beckoned by the call of the strange and bizarre.”

He winked at him with his good eye. “And let’s not kid ourselves; I’m the strangest and bizarre-est guy you know~!”

Another kick of his feet, his feet bouncing against the chair legs. “Even if I no longer have access to your mind, I can tell you’ve got a billion questions about me buzzing around in that lump of wet meat you call a brain,” he continued. “Questions like ‘How did he get back?’ ‘Why is he human now?’ ‘Why, oh, why did I think that a simple memory gun would be enough to defeat someone as powerful, as amazing, as unstoppable as Bill Cipher?’”

Ford’s hand inched closer to the gun as Bill kept talking: “You must’ve felt so proud of yourself for that memory gun trick, by the way,” he went on. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did, it was a smart move that only a brainiac like you could’ve drummed up in the short time you had.”

A wink. “Well, lucky for you I’m not the kinda triangle to hold a grudge,” he continued. “In fact, I’d even be willing to answer a couple of those hypothetical questions for you! And to call us even, you can always just answer a couple of mine in return. Like what you’ve been up to in the past nine months~! Come on, I’ll bet you’re just dying to tell me all about how you grew that beard of yours!”

The hand wrapped around the grip, and Bill settled lower in the chair with a sigh. “Fine, I guess it was too much to hope for a chance to catch up with an old friend,” he said with a dramatic flair to his tone—

—one that immediately shifted into something far more malevolent. “But then again, I guess I wouldn’t find any of those around here, now would I?”

Bill paused, giving Ford him a few seconds to chime in—only to roll his eyes when he heard a click from the gun as Ford turned off the safety catch: “Oh, come on, Stanford, are you really telling me that you’d rather spend the entire night alone with your thoughts than to spend five minutes holding a conversation with me?”

“Yes.”

It was the first word, sans any threats, he’d managed to get out of Ford all night, and it was annoying enough for Bill to sink further against his restraints with a huff.

Not a defeated huff; if a stubborn, old fool not giving him what he wanted was enough to stop Bill Cipher, then he wouldn’t be Bill Cipher. If he’d possessed enough patience to wait eons for a functioning portal, then he could certainly possess enough to get a few words outta Ford over the course of a single evening.

And as soon as Ford stopped being so difficult—you couldn’t avoid talking all night, Sixer—he'd be in business.

The distant sound of floorboards creaking somewhere on the other side of the shack perked Bill up again with a look towards the ceiling. Guess the rest of the household was fighting back the urge to sleep with a stick.

The sudden lack of pencil to paper also caught his attention, gaze bouncing back to where Ford was seated. He hadn’t moved, but Bill could still see the pupils of his sunken-in eyes shift towards the door with mild curiosity.

Mild curiosity that vanished the second he realized Bill was watching him, and his focus immediately returning to his notes after clicking the safety back and leaving the gun where it rested.

Hmm.

“Fine, you don’t wanna talk about what you’ve been up to for the past few months?” he tried again. “Fair enough, I really didn’t wanna hear about it. Why don’t we talk about about something else, then? Like the kids, perhaps?”

The hand was back at the gun without pause. 

“They’re looking well, older even. Or do they?—I’m still fuzzy on the details of the aging process of you mortals,” Bill continued. “Or if you don’t wanna talk about them, we could always talk about your brother. Can’t believe he’s still wildly swinging those fists around like a wild animal, especially when that didn’t even work the first time—”

The gun was ignored completely as Ford crossed the room in an instant, the vitriol behind his eyes hot enough to burn straight through Bill’s skin, blood, skull—everything, until it bore a hole right through to the other side of his head. A motion that made Bill jump against his better judgment—his blackened eye instinctively twitching as he remembered Stan’s earlier show of force—and for a fleeting moment, he expected another hand around his throat in seconds.

Before Ford could react proper, however, a loud knock pulled both of their attention to the bedroom door. After a silent breath of relief, Bill shot Ford a cheeky grin. “Sounds like you’ve got company~! Unless they’re here to see me, which—I mean, who could blame them if they were?”

Ford glared at him before turning back to the door. “Who is it?”

“Jersey Devil. Who d’you think it is?”

“...Come on in.”

The knob turned and Stan slowly entered the room, casting a silent look between the two of them before settling his gaze on Ford. “Just checkin’ in. How’s, uh—” he began, then paused. “—how’s everything going?”

He was clearly talking to Ford, and making an obvious effort to ignore the triangle-shaped elephant in the room. So naturally, Bill had to do everything in his power to make his presence as loud and obvious as possible.

“Everything’s peachy~!” he piped up, with another wiggle against his binds. “Ol’ Fordsy and I are having the time of our lives catching up on things! In fact, I think he was just about to tell me about what the kids have been up to for the past few months?”

He flashed Ford a wide grin. “Come on, Ford, I’ll bet they’ve shared a ton of stories with you~!”

Stan pointed a finger at him. “Hey, you’d better watch that mouth of yours, before I come over there and make it match your eyeball.”

“What, you’re gonna punch it?” Bill asked. “Go right ahead, I was just lamenting the fact that my mouth and eyeball are separated in this body.”

He giggled mischievously and flashed him a wide grin. “Your fist’s about the size of a mouth-sized eyeball, right? Just asking, because the second you swing it at these puppies—” He gave a warning snap of his teeth. “—I can’t promise that you’ll get it back.”

“Everything’s fine, Stanley. Go get some sleep.”

Ford’s tone was so scripted and hollow, like the words he actually wanted to say were being held back by a metric ton of steel. More than just the physical steel plate installed in his head, a whole dam of metaphorical steel was keeping the flood of Ford’s true thoughts at bay. And judging by the way Stan’s features twisted with uncertainty at his brother’s words—only until he spotted Bill eyeing him and promptly shifted his expression into a look of disdain—there was clearly something keeping his own thoughts hidden as well.

Oh, it killed Bill to not know what they were thinking. To lack the ability to act as the metaphorical wrecking ball that could smash through all that steel in an instant, leaving him free to pry open every last little thought, rivet by rivet, bolt by bolt.

Well, at least he still possessed the ability to verbally taunt them~! “You heard the big guy, Goldfish~! Why don’t you run on back to bed while the adults talk?”

“Why you little—” Stan began, then paused with a look of confusion. “Goldfish, what—”

“Your sign in the Zodiac Wheel,” Bill elaborated. “You know—that little goldfish thing on your hat! Although I guess it could also be a reference to your constant desperation for fortune and fame, combined with your childish dream of dragging Sixer off on some ridiculous, insignificant boat adventure. You know, first part’s the gold, second part’s the fish?”

He tilted his head. “Of course, I could always call you Fez instead, but that just sounds silly. It’d be like calling Question Mark Shirt or Pine Tree…I dunno, Other Hat? Hmm, kinda like that, actually.”

“...Welp, that one’s on me for asking,” Stan said, and promptly turned his attention back to Ford. “I did need you for something, though. Apparently Soos found a few more moonstones that he said we should lay out in the hall—”

“Well, feel free to lay them there,” Ford said, making his way back to his chair. “One at each corner, evenly spaced…Probably a smart idea to stick one at the end of the hallway for good measure—”

“I really think we need your help with it,” Stan urged.

“Not if you follow my instructions.”

Bill’s eyebrows shot as far up his forehead as they could get, expression lighting up with sadistic glee. Oh, oh—they were fighting~! “Aww, I’m back for five minutes and you two are already at each other’s throats again!” he said with a mirthy twinkle in his eye. “Man, even after all this time, you Pines Twins still can’t get along!”

He began to rock back and forth in the chair with delight. “Come on, punch each other in the face!” he demanded excitedly. “Give Sixer a black eye that looks worse than mine!”

He stopped rocking for a moment, and cast a look down at the chair. “Hmm, I forgot that you mortals haven’t evolved to the point where you can hear the voices of inanimate objects,” he said. “Such a shame that I can’t hear how much this chair is screaming while I rock around on it!”

With a cackle, he proceeded to rock back and forth even harder. “Hehe, I’ll bet the four-legged jerk's absolutely livid right now—ACK!”

The chair suddenly tipped over and crashed—Bill and all—to the floor with a loud clatter. With his limbs too restrained to catch himself in any dignified fashion, Bill quickly found himself with his face squished into the lavender rug near Abuelita’s bed. 

Both Ford and Stan stared at him for a moment, their disagreement temporarily forgotten at Bill’s misfortune. However, Stan snapped back to reality first and took advantage of the other two being distracted long enough to pull Ford towards the door and out into the hallway.

Bill barely had time to bark out an irritated: “Hey, get back here and pick me up!” before the door was pulled shut behind them. With a irritable huff, he attempted to rock the chair again in the hopes of adjusting to a more comfortable angle.

And after a moment of struggling, he finally succeeded in rolling the chair onto its—and by extension, his—back. Leaving him completely flat on the floor with his gaze pointed upwards at the ceiling.

Well, at least this angle was more familiar.

— — — — — — —

“Stanley, I said—”

“I know what you said,” Stan replied, closing the door shut behind them. “But you know I’m gonna try and make you sleep tonight, right?”

“And you know I’m not going to do that, right?”

“Ford—”

“How on Earth am I supposed to sleep with Bill still alive?!” 

It was like something had finally crashed right on through whatever wall Ford had built up in his mind, the stress he had tried desperately to repress all evening spilling out of him in an instant. “The memory gun should’ve worked,” he muttered in a panicked tone. “It…it destroyed everything in your mind, right?”

“Well, yeah, everything—” Stan began. “But—”

“There had to have been something he did, something that protected him,” Ford rambled on, mostly to himself. “Was it a spell? Some kind of failsafe? Did he catch onto our plan—”

“Woah, woah, hey, just breathe for a sec,” Stan interrupted. “Yeah, this is exactly why you’ve gotta let someone else babysit the little jerk while you get some sleep. You’re not gonna get anywhere if you’re too tired to think straight.”

And maybe if Ford got some sleep, he could shift some of the burden to Stan’s shoulders where it belonged. Yeesh, the poor guy had really been holding back earlier. Had he really been this stressed all evening?

…As if Stan needed to ask.

“You’d be surprised at what I can accomplish during an all-nighter,” Ford assured him. “Back in my college days, I once started a twenty-thousand-word essay at ten in the evening, and had it on the professor’s desk by six the next morning.”

He pressed a hand to his forehead. “And when you first arrived here to help me hide the journals, I was starting my fourth consecutive day of staying awake.”

“Fourth?!” Stan sputtered in disbelief, before he shook his head. “No, no, just gonna ignore that for now—it’s not like I got any room to talk when it comes to bad sleep schedules. But also you are not staying up four days to deal with this by yourself.”

He reached over to place a reassuring hand on Ford’s shoulder. “Come on, Stanford, let me help you,” he urged. “At least go get an hour of sleep. I’ll stay down here, keep him quiet—heck, I’ll duct tape his mouth shut if he gets too mouthy with me.”

He balled his free hand into a fist and thumped it against his own chest. “Let me help you put that pointy jerk twenty feet back under the ground, and make it stick this time!”

Ford’s eyes fell to the hand on his shoulder and followed it up to the desperation in his brother’s features.

An expression near identical to the one he had worn after being blasted by the memory gun. Confusion mixed with a desire to understand…

It was like they were back in that clearing in the woods, the natural warmth of the sun draping itself back over the town, after the blood-red skies of Weirdmageddon had barred it from sight for so long. Stanley kneeling in front of him and the kids in a dazed trance, no recollection of whom he was or the sacrifices he had just made.

All of which he had assured Ford was worth the risk while they swapped clothes back in the Fearamid, beneath the wretched tapestries of the remaining Zodiac members, an ear perked on both ends for Bill’s thundering footsteps reapproaching the main room.

But had it been? Had it been worth the risk?

Up until Mabel’s scrapbook method, they had no way of knowing that Stanley would’ve been able to return to his usual self. And as far as they knew, that cure only worked when presented with the memory gun’s effects. What if Stanley got involved again, only for something worse to happen to him than lost memories? What if he couldn’t simply be scrapbooked and home movie’d back to his usual self again this time around?

What if—

“Yeah, well, if they keep on bein’ that thrilled, you’re gonna have to bust out that necromancy spell to talk to me.”

“I’ve made up my mind, Stanley,” Ford said, and turned back to the door. “You go get some sleep.”

“Wh—Ford!”

His brother’s name fell on deaf ears as Ford promptly open and shut the door behind him. Stan continued to stare at the closed door, too dumbfounded to properly react. 

Ford really didn’t want his help with Bill? He could understand sending everyone off to bed earlier, but he was still turning down his help when it was just the two of them?

He raised a hand to the doorknob, the temptation to try and properly sway Ford into letting him help rising in his chest—

“Mr. Pines?”

Stan nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of a voice from the other bedroom in the hallway, and he turned to see Soos standing in the doorway. “Everything alright? …I don’t have to punch anyone yet, do I?”

With an exhale, Stan forced his hand back to his side again. “Yeesh, Soos, don’t sneak up on me like that or I’m gonna be the one who starts swinging. But nah, everything’s fine. Just thought I check in on Ford, is all.”

“Alright,” Soos said with a small smile as he held up a fist of his own. “But I swear, I will throw a punch if I need to! I made a promise, after all.”

He paused, and switched the fist to another hand. “Although maybe I should use this hand,” he said thoughtfully. “Don’t wanna accidentally break my Shack-Brochure-and-Fanfic-Writing hand on his face, you know what I mean?”

He swapped back to the first. “Although it’s probably better to use your dominant hand to punch—”

“Go to bed, Soos.”

“You got it, Mr. Pines!”

He shut the door, leaving Stan once again by himself in the quiet hallway.

Stan cast a look back to the door in front of him, his hand moving towards the doorknob again.

The same way it had when Ford had called him to the shack all those years ago, eyes bloodshot and features sunken from a lack of sleep—four days, Ford?!—and he’d showed up without a second thought to help.

Despite all the time they had spent apart, Ford had relied on him enough to seek out his help. Despite everything, Stan had still held some worth in his brother’s eyes.

And how had Stan proven that worth to his brother?

By tossing him through some massive, otherworldly portal for thirty years, stealing his identity, and ruining his life.

By getting huffy over a simple thank you and nearly dooming the entire universe.

“But then again, you might have a little trouble convincing him. Considering your poor track record in fixing mistakes.”

By not doing the one thing that had actually granted him worth, and killing that stupid demon proper.

He slammed his hand back down to his side again in a balled fist, and headed back down the hallway.

Forget it, he’d try again tomorrow.

— — — — — — —

“So, how’d the fight go~?”

Not even Bill’s shrill tauntings could pull Ford out of his determined state as he returned to his chair and notebook, the tip of his pencil once again dancing across the paper with incredible speed.

From the floor where he’d fallen earlier, Bill cast him a sour look. “Oh, real mature, Sixer. You’re really not going to pick me up?”

Ford’s hand clenched tighter around the pencil as he went to scratch out his latest idea—one that joined the dozen other scribbled-out ideas above it—before moving down to the next empty row on the paper and starting again—

“Uh, hello? Stanford? I’m talking to you!”

Talk then, you vile little demon.

The tip of the pencil snapped and Ford was unable to bite back his frustrated grunt of surprise. Right on cue, a cackle started from the floor as he reached for a pencil sharpener. “Hehe, I heard that~!” Bill chimed in a singsong voice. “Guess we know who lost the fight, eh, Grumpypants~?”

Ford paid him no mind as he quickly sharpened the pencil back into a point and returned to his work with that fierce determination from before.

No matter how many scribbled-out ideas he had to toss into the fireplace, he was going to find a solution to this problem.

No matter how long it took, no matter how much he had to verbally endure at Bill’s hand again—

—he would make certain that his brother’s sacrifices hadn’t been in vain.

“...Okay, seriously, are you going to leave me down here all night?”

— — — — — — — —

Mabel couldn’t sleep.

Ever since she’d settled into bed—a snoozing Waddles curled up at her side—her eyes had stayed glued to the ceiling. At first she’d tried distracting herself by holding mental conversations with the mold spots permanently stained into the old wood, but not even Daryl could lift her spirits at a time like this.

Every few minutes, her gaze would move to the bed across the room, a question lingering on her tongue for a moment before she returned her attention to the ceiling.

It was around midnight before she finally vocalized her lingering question with a quiet: “You awake, Dipper?”

Her answer immediately came in the form of blankets shuffling as Dipper rolled over to face her. “Of course I am.”

She rolled over to face him proper as well, both pairs of eyes shifting to the triangular window of their room. The moon hung high in the night sky, its beams of light shining through the glass and illuminating the floor in a way that would normally be comforting.

Tonight, however, the sight of an eye-shaped object through the triangular frame was just a painful reminder of what waited for them just a few rooms below.

“I can’t believe he’s back…”

Dipper turned his gaze from the moonlight and back to his sister at the sound of her voice. “Did you see Grunkle Ford?” she asked quietly. “He was so scared…”

“I don’t blame him,” Dipper admitted, placing a hand to his forehead. “We went through all of that trouble to kill Bill, and it didn’t even work.”

He slid the hand down to cover his eyes, but immediately lifted it again to peek over at her. “Hey, you saw it, right? How much he looked like me…”

There was more shuffling—this time on Mabel’s end—as she sat up in bed completely. “It was like when I saw him during the puppet show,” she said, pulling her legs to her chest. “Except the hair and eyes were different this time around. His left eye wasn’t all—”

She covered her own left eye with one hand. “His hair color’s different this time, too. I wonder why?”

“Who knows?” Dipper said with a shrug. “Although I guess meeting—or re-meeting a guy who looks like me isn’t the weirdest thing to happen in this town, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Mabel agreed. “Still…why’d it have to be that guy? Why does he have to ruin everything?”

A sad hum escaped her as she hugged her knees close. “So much for getting to spend more time with Grunkle Ford this summer…”

Dipper let his arm fall before he sat up in bed. “Hey, come on, you really think it’s gonna take all summer for Grunkle Ford to get rid of Bill?” he asked. “He’s spent the last thirty years traversing the Multiverse! He’s explored more dimensions than we could probably even think of on our own—dimensions where everyone lives underwater, dimensions ruled by talking robotic octopi—”

When Mabel plopped sadly back against her pillow again, Dipper paused for a moment to think. “—dimension where the air is made of cotton candy instead of oxygen?”

As he’d expected, the concept twitched the corners of her mouth with mild amusement. “Ugh, I’ll bet that dimension is soooo tasty,” she said. “I wonder what they do when it rains, though? All the cotton candy would just melt and then they’d have no air—ooh, I’ll bet they have like, a ga-ZILLION of those cotton candy-making machines ready for when that happens!”

“Anything’s possible in the Multiverse,” Dipper said with a nod. “My point is that Grunkle Ford’s been around, and he’s probably picked up a lot of different ways to get rid of Bill! Even if the methods he’s tried already didn’t work—and even if we can’t use stuff like the Zodiac or his Quantum Destabilizer—I’m sure he’s got something up his sleeve.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. And if none of those work, we could always come up with some ideas for him! Like—like—”

She flumped her arms across her blanket with an exasperated huff. “Well, I’m too tired to think of anything now, but I’m sure we could think of something!” she said, scrunching her face in concentration. “What if we…I dunno—”

“Oooh!” Dipper snapped his fingers with inspiration. “What if we got one of those time travel devices, strapped one to Bill, and then rocketed him to a date so far into the future that he’d never be able to get back to our time?”

Mabel pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle, but her amusement faded almost immediately. “Nah, that wouldn’t work. He could always trick and possess someone super far in the future, and they could help him get back here,” she pointed out. “Like what he did with that Blendin guy, remember?”

“Oh, yeah…”

The two fell silent again, the only noise that could be heard was the gentle summer wind rustling the forest outside their window. “We should probably sleep for real,” Dipper finally said. “We can just…do what we told Grunkle Stan we were going to do and take shifts, right?”

“Well then, you sleep first,” Mabel said, once again in an upright position as she reached over to pull Waddles close to her. “And like I said I was gonna do, I’ll let Waddles stay on your side and be your guard hog while you sleep.”

Waddles followed up her remark with a groggy little oink of reassurance, and Dipper let out a chuckle. “Yeah, and what’s he gonna do if Bill pops up in my dream?”

“I mean, you can always dream up a dream Waddles to eat him,” Mabel suggested. “He looks like a corn chip, right? I’ll bet dream corn chips taste just as good as real ones!”

She plapped a hand against the top of Waddles’ head. “Plus then when you wake up, you’ll have the real Waddles right there to comfort you!”

This got a full-on laugh out of Dipper. “Alright, alright, point made. Send him over.”

Mabel leaned over the side of the bed and gently set Waddles to the floor, giving his little rump an encouraging pat. “Go on, boy! Go protect Dipper from the dream nacho!”

With another tired little oink, he ambled on over to Dipper’s side of the bedroom and oinked up at him for assistance. “Go ahead and set an alarm on your phone, Mabel,” Dipper said, and reached down to pull him up onto his bed. “What should we set it to? An hour? Hour-and-a-half?”

“An hour works for me,” Mabel said. “But if you don’t actually sleep for that hour, I will not hesitate to stay up longer out of spite!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sleeping…”

Dipper settled back down under the covers while Waddles snuggled up next to him, and it wasn’t until Mabel heard Dipper’s light snoring that she finally dared to tear her gaze from him and reach for her phone.

That was good. At the very least, he’d be getting some sleep tonight.

She looked to the window again—the moonlight still faintly illuminating the darkened room—and crawled out of bed to stare outside properly. Despite the tall trees that surrounded the shack on all sides, there was little to block the ocean of stars that painted the night sky.

After staring for a bit, she turned and crawled back into her bed. With another look at her brother to make sure he was still asleep, she dug her hand between the mattress and wall, the tip of her tongue poking out between her lips in determination as she fumbled around for the unseen object she sought so desperately.

She knew it was a longshot that it would’ve remained in the same place for nine months—given the dustless state of their room, Soos would’ve been the most likely candidate to find it if he searched-slash-cleaned hard enough—but eventually her fingers brushed against something and she pulled it out to investigate.

It was an old, dusty piece of paper, the same one she had crumpled and tucked in its hiding spot almost a full year ago. The edges were frayed and torn and the tint of the paper was a sicklier yellow than she remembered—but the jagged writing on the front was still just as legible as the day she’d found it in Stan’s car:

“Note to self: Possessing people is hilarious! To think of all the sensations I’ve been missing out on—burning, stabbing, drowning. It’s like a buffet tray of fun! Once I destroy that journal, I’ll enjoy giving this body its grand finale—by throwing it off the water tower! Best of all, people will just think Pine Tree lost his mind, and his mental form will wander in the mindscape forever. Want to join him, Shooting Star?”

Mabel stared hard at the paper for what felt like an hour—although in reality, it was probably no longer than a few minutes. She read and reread several times over, every cruel word like a knife to her vision and gut, before finally crumpling the paper in an angry fist and shoving it back down between the wall and her mattress where it belonged.

She settled back against her pillow again, and turned back to Dipper’s bed. Still fast asleep, with nothing more than the occasional twitch or shift in place.

He was sleeping, supposedly without nightmares. That was all that mattered.

She continued to stare at him until the sight made her drowsy, before turning her attention back to the various mold spots on the ceiling.

Daryl was going to have to work overtime tonight if he really wanted to lift her spirits.