HAT: I know! Another one! This one's gonna be the most inconsistent story because it'll only be uprated when I get ideas (so far, I have three, including this one). Now, enjoy!

Disclaimer: Gravity Falls isn't mine, just the plot and OCs (yes, there will be OCs).


Greed:

"Haha! Another day another hundred," Stanley crows when he puts his money away.

"Stanley, you're greed's gonna get you into trouble," Stanford warns his brother, noting the way his brother's eyes glowed when he was counting the money.

Stanley scoffs and rolls his eyes. "Too late for that, poindexter. Still gotta make a living."

The darker haired man rolls his eyes this time. "You don't have to make millions anymore. Dad's long gone- you don't have to prove anything to him anymore."

That makes the sharply dressed Pines frown. "Just goes to show ya... you don't know everything about me."

"Wait wh-"

Without another word Stanley turns on his heel and starts to walk to the home part of the Mystery Shack to see what his niece and nephew want to eat, but his shoulder's grabbed and he's whirled around to face the confused man.

"What?" An irritated Stanley Pines demands.

"Why else would you be so greedy?"

"Think about what I said thirty years ago about what I had to go through for ten years," Stanley grunts and turns on his heel to continue with the task that he had in mind before, leaving his brother standing there in his own thoughts.

...

"You ignoramus! Your brother was gonna be our ticket out of this dump! All you ever do is lie and cheat and ride on your brother's coattails- well- this time you cost our family potential millions and until you make us a fortune, you're not welcome in this household!"

Stanley internally winced as he heard those words once again in the back of his mind as he fled from another city in his car- the one thing he had to his name.

He remembered the day that he and his father went to get it. His father didn't like it at first- it was tan and near broken down- but after some convincing his father got it for him allowed Stanley to fix it up himself. He poured blood, sweat and- no one would ever hear him admit it- tears into getting this car to be not only drivable, but also legal. He even painted it and he took his first joyride in his new car with his brother before he ended up having to take his mother shopping a few hours later. After that he became his brother's ride as well as his mother's when she felt like going out and such, but enjoyed the freedom all the same.

Now this rolling junkyard was all that he had. Once taken care of like it was a child with the occasional peanut shells and empty cups here and there but still relatively clean, but now with everything he owned thrown in haphazardly and filled with junk that he should have thrown out years ago.

The man drove into a truck stop and parked while glancing around for cops that might have recognized his license plate and followed him. When he was sure he was safe he turned off the car and rolled down the windows partially so that a breeze would get in. No trucks were around and he could tell by the dirt and trash around the clearing that no one would show up for a long time so he was safe for the moment. He wasn't happy sleeping in his car, but it was better than nothing- which he'd been left with before.

Home sweet home, he thought bitterly while staring at the ceiling. One day I'll live in a big house and won't have to eat scraps and just fast food unless I want to. I'll show the old man that he made a mistake in kicking me out.

His father was a good drive to make millions and save every penny that he can, but if he were honest with himself he was also tired of being homeless. He was tired of having to roam and live in his stupidly cramped car and having to wake up with back pains and neck pains every single day. He was tired of scraps and he was tired of thinking about how he failed his family by not being as accomplished as his twin brother and bringing in the money that his father so craved to get out of their rinky-dink pawn shop.

Just gotta save money... then everything will be better...

...

Stanley sits on the couch with his niece sleeping in his lap and his nephew leaning against his arm while he sat on the arm of the chair while thinking about how he's going to go back to where he was before he managed to set himself up at the Mystery Shack. He's scared and needs to save as much money as he possibly can otherwise he'll be back where he was before...

Homeless and alone.

With a sigh he gets up with the twelve-year-olds in his arms and takes them up the the attic and tucks them each into their beds. He walks out and enters his room to find his brother snooping through his stuff. Back when they were children it didn't matter- he had nothing to hide back then- but now he feels a bit of anger rise in his chest.

"What're you doing?!" He demands.

"Trying to find out what you won't tell me..."

Stanley crosses his arms over his chest. "Yes, I'm a greedy bastard, just leave it be!"

"If it's not dad, then what else makes you so... this?"

"Stanford, drop it," Stanley growls. While Stanford knows when to drop something, Stanford will constantly bug at someone until he got an answer or he was snapped at- just like now. "Just like you've got things you don't want to talk about, I've got things I don't want to talk about."

"It can't be as bad as what I saw on the other side of the portal," the slightly darker haired man scoffs.

This man's about to make me lose it. "I don't know what you saw on the other side of that damned portal, but I know what I've seen on this side and it's enough to make me not want to think about it, got it? When I say 'drop it' I mean it. Now I've got to get some sleep because I've got to work tomorrow. Good. Night."

Stanford stands there for a moment in shock before he turns and walks out of the room while grumbling, "G'night" under his breath.

Stanley lies down and tries to memorize the feeling of a bed under his body because he knows soon he'll have to be back in that car for the rest of his life.


HAT: Yep! Let's see how much I can do to jerk at your feels while jerking at mine while I'm writing them.

Dipper: You do know that most of this probably never happened, right?

HAT: *pouts* That's why it's called "fanfiction" It's fiction on something written by a fan.

Dipper: I know what fanfiction means.

HAT: Okay, just making sure.

Dipper: Review everyone.