Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Stanford Pines was fully aware that he didn’t fit in with the townsfolk of Gravity Falls.  But as far back as he could remember he had never fit in anywhere, so he usually didn’t let it bother him.

Stanford had always known that he was different from other people.

He was interested in and attracted to strange things, and liked to ask strange questions that he would then try to find the answers to, like why the sky was blue, or what made fire burn, or if there was life on other planets (heck, he was the only person in this provincial town who seemed to know that other planets existed , or even what a planet was ).  He read books as often as he could get his hands on them, and did extensive studies of the strange creatures that lived in the surrounding forest, which all the other superstitious (or just plain stupid and oblivious) people avoided like the plague.  Oh, and Stanford (or Ford, as he would have liked to be called by his friends, if he’d had any) had six fingers on each hand, which meant he had been accused of witchcraft on several occasions, and nearly led to him being burned at the stake once, until he used a few of his inventions to scare the angry mob away (they hadn’t tried again, but he’d lost count of the number of times people made signs to ward off the evil eye when he passed them in the street).

So when he received a letter one day, informing him that his only remaining relatives, a twin boy and girl named Mason and Mabel, needed him to become their guardian because their parents and grandfather had died... he was apprehensive.  Not just because he had so little experience with children; he was worried that they would see him as an odd, dangerous wizard too.  And for some reason, hearing that they were twins created an uncomfortable feeling in his gut.

Fiddleford said he was, as usual, overthinking things, and he should at least get to know the children before he set himself up for them not liking him.

Who’s Fiddleford, you ask?

Oh, right.  Sorry, I lied.

Ford had exactly one friend: a fellow inventor (arguably even better at the craft than he was) named Fiddleford McGucket.  He was accused of witchcraft less often than Ford, but he was still seen as dangerous and somewhat mentally unstable (which probably had something to do with his habit of building automatons and their having once or twice gone rogue and attacked the town).  He and his son Tate lived in a house/workshop on Ford’s property, and were more or less his only interactions with people unless he was forced to go into town for some reason, until the day when the children arrived.

Ford wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he went to the village square to collect them...but he knew it wasn’t a high-pitched, excited squeal and being nearly knocked off his feet by an explosion of color surging towards him and wrapping itself around his middle.

“Oh my gosh are you our Great Uncle Stanford it’s so nice to finally meet you Grandpa Shermie told us a lot about you but we never thought we’d get to see you in person oh wow you really do have six fingers, that’s incredible it’s like a whole finger friendlier than normal!”

Even through his dazed attempt to follow that sentence, Ford decided that he liked this girl (he managed to ascertain that it was a girl once he extricated himself)-she was weird.

The boy was more wary than his sister, waiting by the fountain where they’d been dropped off until Ford was free, before stepping forward and giving him a shy nod.

“Um.  Hi.”

“Hello, Mason.”  Ford offered his hand.  Mason’s eyes stared curiously at his extra finger, but he didn’t seem repulsed by it.  He just reciprocated the handshake, with a somewhat sweaty hand.

Mabel looked confused for a second, before her own eyes widened and she laughed.

“Ohhhh, I get it, you don’t know!  Everyone in our family-” her voice faltered a little bit, before she visibly forced it back to its earlier bubbliness- “calls him Dipper!”

Ford gave them a puzzled stare.  “...Dipper?”

The boy sighed, and then lifted his hat before pulling back his bangs.

“Oh.  I see.”  Ford knelt down and examined the birthmark etched across his forehead.  “It’s a remarkable likeness.”

Dipper blushed, but also seemed pleased with his assessment-and perhaps a little relieved too.  Most likely he received the same sort of persecution for it as Ford did for his hands.

Ford began to feel like perhaps he could form a kinship (ha ha) with his niece and nephew after all.

Mabel chattered excitedly about their trip (what kind of animals they’d seen during their travels, what they’d eaten, etc.) as they gathered their (scant) luggage, and headed towards the house.  Dipper was more reticent, but he contributed the occasional comment.

As they walked, Ford wondered if he should offer some sort of condolences about their parents.  On the other hand, they didn’t seem too upset at the moment, and bringing them up might make them start to cry or something and he knew even less about dealing with crying children than he did about dealing with them when they were happy or at least emotionally stable.  But if he didn’t say anything, didn’t that make him seem a little insensitive about the whole thing?

He was spared from the paralyzing indecision when a voice yelled, “LOOK OUT BELOW!” just before a giant, flaming projectile came crashing to the ground right in front of them.

The children immediately latched on to each other with alarmed screams, falling over their own feet in an attempt to escape what, after a moment in which his heart tried to restart, Ford recognized as an enormous hunk of metal that had been formed into the shape of a dragon’s head.  Spurts of fire were shooting out of its mouth and eyes, and setting the nearby grass on fire.

“Awww, dang blame it all!” a voice called out in irritation, as a giant headless automaton came trotting out of the trees (or to be more precise, smashing through them).  After a moment, a wizened figure with a long white beard popped out the top of the neck, and scrambled down its side with surprisingly monkeylike agility as it came to a halt.  He snatched a wooden bucket from the corner of the house and scrambled over to the head, hurriedly dumping water over it and extinguishing the flames.  He absentmindedly put out a small fire that had started up in his beard, muttering about “dang incendiaries” and “must’ve added a mite too much kerosene,” until Ford cleared his throat.

Fiddleford looked up in confusion, and adjusted his large green spectacles before they could slide down his nose.

“What?  I tole you it’s a work in progress-”

Then his eyes landed on the two children, who were standing behind Ford and looking more than a little terrified.

“...Oh.”

The old man raised his hand and waved at them sheepishly.

“...Howdy, kidlets.  Sorry ‘bout that.  Jes’ workin’ out a few kinks in Old Bessie here, didn’t mean ta frighten ya none.”

Dipper blinked.  “Uh-what?”

Fiddleford squared his thin shoulders, and then hefted the giant head up onto his back.  “Old Man McGucket, local kook and part-time inventor, at your service!”  He spat on his greasy palm, and offered it to the children.

Dipper stepped back, wrinkling his nose.  “Why did you just spit on your hand?”

Fiddleford shrugged.  “I don’t rightly know!”  He was just about to wipe it off on his beard when Mabel stepped forward, spat on her own hand, and grabbed his, pumping vigorously.

“Nice to meet you, Old Man McGucket!  I’m Mabel, and this is my twin brother Dipper!  We’re here to live with our Great Uncle Stanford!”

Ford made a mental note to teach the children about his findings on the importance of personal hygiene, and the tiny invisible creatures that he’d learned lived in people’s bodies which should generally not be spread around because that was what led to diseases.

***

Dipper wondered just what kind of place they were being forced to make their new home.

So far it appeared to be populated by at least one lunatic, which made him wonder a little suspiciously about Great Uncle Stanford’s own mental stability if he was letting this McGucket guy live here.

...Granted, it was nice that his first response to learning of Dipper’s nickname and birthmark had not included any kind of ridicule, which was a pleasant change from the norm.  And Grandpa Shermie and their parents (he tried to ignore the lump in his throat that rose as he remembered them) had at least seemed to trust him enough to make him their guardian.

But he still watched the old man with wary eyes as they made their way to the house and stepped inside.

And once they were inside the house properly, he realized that his suspicions might be partly correct: this seemed like the kind of house that would belong to a wizard, or an alchemist.

Everywhere he looked, there were books-stacked haphazardly in piles, resting on tables, and even a few of them were on a mostly-empty bookcase in one corner of the main room.  There were also hundreds of papers, covered in untidy scrawls and drawings of strange creatures, left seemingly wherever they’d been set down.  A series of enormous glass jars was set against a wall, and inside them there appeared to be a wide variety of preserved plant and animal specimens-many of which were wholly unfamiliar.  And on another table, as they went into another room, Dipper saw a series of unique glass containers in unfamiliar shapes and sizes that were filled with strange, bubbling liquids, and a couple of which had fires lit underneath them.

...He wasn’t sure if he was more frightened or intrigued.

Mabel, who was generally the more optimistic of the two, had settled on the latter; she kept looking at everything with wide, curious eyes, and reaching out to touch everything that was close enough.

“This place is amazing !” she piped up at last.  “You have so much cool stuff, Great Uncle Stanford!”

Stanford, who had been walking steadily ahead of them through the house, let out a startled noise and spun around.

He stared down at them for a few seconds, wearing a very odd expression, before shaking his head.

“What?  Oh.  Yes.”  Then, as what seemed like an afterthought, “...Thank you.”

Dipper’s fears were starting to reassert themselves ( what was that all about is something wrong with him that Grandpa didn’t know about is he going to randomly go insane and try to kill us ) when Stanford spoke again: “...I’ve cleared some space for you in the attic, if that’s all right.”

Dipper and Mabel looked at each other, then back at him, and shrugged.

“That’s fine.”

“It’s probably better than some of the places we’ve been sleeping for the last week!”

A pinched frown appeared between his eyebrows.  “...I see.  Well, come with me.”  He turned again.

The attic seemed comfortable enough; it was mostly empty, aside from a bed set up on each side of the room.  Mabel immediately set about decorating her side with what seemed like every picture she’d ever drawn in her life, while Dipper dumped his pack on his bed and sat down with a small sigh.  He noted, with a hint of pleased surprise, that the mattress seemed to be filled with something far more comfortable than the straw he was used to.

Stanford stood uncomfortably in the doorway, fumbling with his hands, as the children explored the room.

“...I suppose I’ll leave you alone, then.  Unless there’s anything you need?”

“How about seein’ if they’d like some food?” a voice drawled dryly from behind him.

It belonged to a man in light green clothes, with a hat pulled down over his eyes and bearing a passing resemblance to Old Man McGucket.  “They’ve been travelin’ all day, ya might wanna see if they’re hungry.”

Stanford startled again as he turned around, before relaxing.  “Oh-of course.  Thank you, Tate.”

Dipper couldn’t tell, but it looked a little bit like Tate rolled his eyes based on his posture.

“Sure, I’m starving!” Mabel chirped.

Dipper considered.  He hadn’t had much of an appetite over the last few weeks, after the thing-he-was-trying-not-to-think-about-too-much.  But…

“I could eat.”

Tate bobbed his head.  “Kay.”  Without further ado, he turned and clomped towards the stairs.

Stanford gave them an awkward smile.  “...Tate’s not much of a talker.  But he’s a hard worker, and he basically keeps things running around here when Fiddleford and I get caught up in our research.”

“What kind of stuff do you research?” Dipper asked curiously.

Stanford hesitated.  “...This land has many interesting types of plants and animals.”

“Ooh, like giraffes?” Mabel asked.  “Grandpa told us about those!  He says-” she faltered again- “said he saw one once, and they’ve got the longest necks in the world!”

“...Not exactly.  Or at least, I have never seen a giraffe in this part of the world.  But...perhaps at some point I will show you what I mean.”

Dipper felt his intrigue gain a little ground over the fright.

“In the meantime, though, I think I should set some ground rules.”  Stanford straightened his already-pretty-straight back, and began pacing in front of them.  “First of all, don’t touch any of my experiments unless I tell you it’s safe.  Some of the substances that I work with are very dangerous, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

...Definitely a wizard or an alchemist.

“You are free to ask questions about whatever you want, and I will do my best to answer them.  The best way to learn things is by asking questions.”

“What about by doing things?” Mabel asked.

“That is a natural part of asking questions.”  Stanford gave her a tight smile which quickly evaporated, as he began the next sentence.  “And finally-stay out of the forest.  Never go in there unless I or Fiddleford or Tate come with you.”

Dipper tilted his head.  “Why?”

That look from earlier crossed his great uncle’s face again.  This time he recognized the kind of emotions that were used to make it up: something between blank confusion, and a rush of fear.

It was enough to make goosebumps rise on Dipper’s arms.

After a moment Stanford collected himself, and said, “Not all of the creatures that live here are friendly.”

“What, like wolves?” Mabel asked.

“There are wolves, yes.”  He looked ready to say something else; instead he followed with, “I’ll have Tate bring you up some food shortly; it should be almost ready.  Let me know if you need anything else.”

And he went away, leaving the children alone in their new room.