The whole community of Gravity Falls was consumed by chaos and destruction. The triangular beast by the name of Bill Cipher declared his leadership over the Oregon town and unleashed his surreal mania onto its vulnerable inhabitants. Under the hellfire orange sky a multitude of anomalous abominations wreaked havoc on the defenseless town. Innocent people were turned to stone by merciless eyebats, buildings ravaged by flames collapsed, and the once lush-green environment deteriorated into what she could only describe as hell on earth. Within a day's time, the sleepy forested town transformed into an isolated war zone.
The civilians knew that there was no sanctuary from the devastation caused by the outlandish beasts. Even the few stragglers who wandered aimlessly in search of shelter were vulnerable to the abhorrent forces that roamed from above.
Deep past the threshold of the forest, Pacifica Northwest hid in fear. The blonde girl was crouched down within a bush in the hopes that she wouldn't be spotted by the sadistic hell spawns that prowled throughout the town. Her mother, Priscilla Northwest, told her to stay put while she went out to find food at the closest convenient store, reassuring her daughter that she would return to the hiding spot in two hours tops. A whole day had past since she left.
Her father, Preston Northwest, had his face horrifically rearranged by Bill, and was captured by a green monstrosity with 8-Balls for eyes. Noting that her mother had not returned, Pacifica began to fear for the worst. If both of my parents are gone, then what's going to happen to me? She pondered anxiously, the uncertainty of her fate lingering inside her mind. Tears started to spill from her eyes, smearing the mascara and eyeliner to the point of devolving into black blots that nearly blinded her peripheral vision. Her ruined make-up would normally peeve her off to no end, but she was too afraid about the apocalyptic travesty around her to even care about such frivolous matters. She hugged her knees close to her chest, praying that all of this madness would end.
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps approached the bush. The young girl's eyes shot open in terror. Who or what is that? The poor, vulnerable girl squeezed her eyes shut, silently hoping that whoever or whatever was advancing towards her would quickly put her out of her misery.
"Pacifica Northwest?"
The blonde was shocked to hear such a warm and comforting, albeit shrill, voice say her name. Cautiously turning around, she saw a bearded hillbilly sporting green-lens spectacles carrying an olive-green backpack and a knapsack.
"Old Man McGucket?" Pacifica inquired, raising her brow. It was quite odd to see an unlikely familiar face under dire circumstances. She wouldn't have thought someone who generally drew as much attention to himself as he did would have been able to avoid capture by Bill's minions for more than a few hours. Then again, now that she thought about it, he'd been living in the city dump for as long as she could remember so she supposed he must have some survival skills.
McGucket gave the girl a friendly smile as he tipped his tattered brown hat to her. The hillbilly knelt down beside the young blonde and placed his knapsack onto the grass. Untying the yellow sack, he spread out the cloth to reveal several cans of brown meat. McGucket pulled out a Swiss army knife from his overall pocket and stabbed the aluminum can in circular fashion, severing the lid clean. The unkempt man grabbed a worn-out metal spoon from his pocket, dipping it into the meat. He extended the can out to the girl, offering the humble meal to the young aristocrat.
Pacifica was shocked on a number of levels. In this time of disarray, food was scarce to come by and her stomach rumbled for joy at the can that laid before her eyes. But Old Man McGucket, the local kook, was giving her, a member of the infamous Northwest family, a simple can of brown meat. What did she ever do to deserve such a meal in these desperate times. She wanted to believe that this was some kind of cruel joke.
"Why are you giving me food?" She asked skeptically.
"I figured ya might be hungry." McGucket replied, giving her a small, earnest smile.
The blonde girl quizzically inspected the can of brown meat before reluctantly accepting the food. In normal circumstances she would never dare attempt to consume such mediocre cuisine. But her stomach growled in protest, wanting to be satiated with whatever she could digest. Sighing to herself, she gingerly scooped a spoonful of meat with the aged utensil and proceeded to eat. Much to her surprise, the brown meat was serviceable, delectable even. She continued to dig into the can, munching the meat to her heart's content until the can was empty.
Reaching into her pocket, she grabbed a spare handkerchief and proceeded to wipe the meat grease off her mouth. Grateful for the meal that was given to her, she turned to McGucket before voicing her appreciation. "Thank you for the food."
"Yer welcome miss." He nodded with a smile. There was a silent pause between the two. Pacifica was deep in thought, contemplating to herself as she rubbed her arm. Why is he being so nice to me? She pondered. McGucket was also in a contemplative state. He knew that Pacifica had a family, but why was she left all alone in the middle of the woods? The eccentric old man was unaware of the disastrous fates of Preston and Priscilla Northwest and he didn't know whether she was waiting for her family, abandoned by them, or the sole survivor of her kin. He knew that Pacifica would be distraught if he asked, but answers were necessary if he wanted to properly assist her. Drawing a long sigh, he decided to gently approach the dreadful topic.
"So Pacifica, how is it that a precious youngster such as yerself not bein' looked after an' properly cared for?"
Pacifica looked downwards, averting her gaze from the concerned hillbilly before she replied. "My father was captured by some monster yesterday after becoming disfigured, and my mother went out to scavenge for food, but she must have disappeared." The prestigious girl let out a somber sigh. She assumed that the lone traveler would give her some falsified pity for her troubles before continuing on his merry way. However, she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. Taken aback by the soft reaction, the girl looked up at McGucket. Pacifica looked into his visage behind the green-tinted glasses to discover a mixture of sadness, kindness and sympathy pooling from his eyes.
"I know that ya must be feelin' scared, but I can assure ya that you won't be left by yer lonesome anymore. I'm gonna help ya get through this." McGucket slowly lifted himself up from the ground, carefully inspecting his surroundings from the hiding spot.
"Why are you getting up?" Pacifica questioned, her tone suspicious of the old man's actions.
"Well we can't accomplish anythin' by hidin' out here in the open forever, now can we?" Fiddleford responded, lending his hand out to her. "I was in the midst of searchin' for shelter an' I want you ta come with me. A young girl like you deserves ta be safe from this apocalyptic mess."
The blonde was astonished at what she heard. This man, the town maniac no less, was here to help her. She was unsure if joining him would lead her to any good or uncertain doom, but she knew that accompanying him was far better than hiding in bushes all alone, wallowing in fear. Realizing that this was her only opportunity to reach safety, she pulled her cardigan sleeve over her hand before taking hold of McGucket's hand. The bearded man carefully pulled the blonde girl up onto her feet. After ensuring that the trail ahead of them was clear from any malevolent forces, McGucket gently led Pacifica down the road to asylum.
As they started their search for shelter, the two were silent, mostly from fear of being spotted by one of Bill's Henchmaniacs. Pacifica wondered if she could truly place her faith on McGucket. The old eccentric was extremely notorious for his reputation as the town fool of Gravity Falls. The local maniac would spend his days ranting and raving at clueless bystanders as well as inventing destructive robots that would run rampant in the streets. The blonde girl glanced upwards at the eccentric hillbilly. She immediately took notice of how calm and determined he looked, especially during an event as chaotic as Weirdmageddon. The old man's eyes were no longer bugged out sideways as usual. Now they were straightened forwards and hardened. He inspected his surroundings, making sure that there was no sign of any dangerous creature or weirdness bubble.
The two companions halted when they heard the cries of a young child.
Slowly and carefully, the unlikely duo crept towards the source of the wailing. They peered from behind a decaying pine tree to discover a small, chubby brown-haired boy leaning against a boulder. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he rubbed the sides of his scraped knee, searching for a way to cease the burning sensation and pain from his wound.
The bearded hillbilly began to walk towards the boy. Pacifica hesitantly followed close behind the hillbilly.
"Hey there lil' fella." McGucket greeted with the same gentle voice he had used to reassure Pacifica. "I see the damage on yer knee, but I'm here ta help, so there's no need ta fret now." He rummaged through his long, dirtied beard and pulled out a small first aid kit. Opening the metal case, he pulled out a half-full tube of antibiotic cream and a box of bandages.
"So tell me, what's yer name?" The man asked politely, his accented voice soft and calming.
"Gour...G-Gourney." The boy answered as a small sob escaped.
"Well Gourney, my name is Fiddleford Hadron McGucket. The lovely young lady next ta me is Pacifica Northwest and we're gonna help ya out."
The blonde girl whipped her head towards McGucket, bewildered at the hillbilly's comment. How am I going to be of any help? She thought quizzically. I don't have any apocalypse-survival knowledge. She broke from her musings by the loud thud of the backpack. The old man looked at her as he spoke. "Now Pacifica, I need you to grab a can of meat from this here backpack and cut it open with my knife so that this poor boy can have somethin' ta eat."
Retrieving the Swiss army knife from his pocket, he gently handed the tool to the perplexed girl. Pacifica inspected the knife, trying to find the appropriate blade. Her hands-on experience with tools was virtually non-existent due to her courtly and elitist upbringing, not counting the multitude of fancy eating utensils she had to properly correlate to each appropriate meal. She knew that if she wanted to survive, she had to adapt to the harsh and gritty environment, even if that meant getting her hands dirty. But within the myriad of different tools, she was able to find the appropriate knife. She grabbed the first can of meat she could find inside the bag and went to work. It took Pacifica a couple of pathetic attempts before she punctured a hole in the can. She deeply concentrated on the task of carving a circle, which took longer than she expected.
While she was cutting, she overheard Fiddleford calmly treating the poor boy's knee scrape, pacifying the child with soothing words as he carefully applied the cream on the injury. Gourney held back his weeping when he felt the stinging sensation on his knee, the medication taking action against the scrape. Once the cream was spread out, Fiddleford began to take out a large adhesive bandage.
"Now yer not allergic ta any adhesives or latex are ya?" The hillbilly asked softly. Gourney shook his head while humming a "nuh-uh". Fiddleford opened up the bandage and gently placed it over the boy's knee scrape.
"There ya go!" He proclaimed. "Now yer knee is safe from infection!"
Fortunately, Pacifica was able to sever the lid from the top of the can and offered the food to Gourney. "Here you go." She told the boy. "I don't know how you feel about brown meat, but I'm sure you need it."
Gourney took the can and inspected it. Taking a small spoonful of meat into his mouth and placed it in his mouth, carefully chewing the meat before swallowing it. He instantly felt relieved that he was eating after suffering from starvation for so long. He starting eating at a faster pace to satiate his grumbling stomach. The boy felt relieved after finishing the canned meal. He noticed the old man and the blonde girl were still beside him.
Gourney was at a loss for words. The poor boy was separated from his family ever since Weirdmageddon began and was fearful that he would get captured by one of Bill's minions. However, these two kind souls arrived to help during his time of need, offering him medical care and nourishment. Tears of gratefulness welled in his eyes. The boy rushed towards the two and hugged them.
"Thank you so much." Gourney sniffled, his voice muffled in Pacifica's purple cardigan. She was taken aback by the boy's kind words. All I did was open up a lousy can of meat, it's not like I saved him from one of the monsters or anything of the sort. But after moments of reflection, she realized that he must have been starving for over a day and was relieved that she gave him something to eat. Perhaps I did do some good by feeding the kid.
The girl glanced over at Fiddleford, who knelt down to the boy and returning his embrace. Pacifica decided to mimic the hillbilly's actions as she wrapped her left arm around the thankful child. She felt personal satisfaction helping this boy. She sensed the wave of determination flooding within her, discovering what she could be capable of in terms of helping other survivors. As the world crumbled around her, Pacifica felt invigorated by her newfound sense of conviction.
As the boy was released from the embrace, an idea popped into Fiddleford's mind. He decided to address his plan to the two children. "I was thinkin' that we would be able to find shelter over at the Mystery Shack since it's the closest landmark in Gravity Falls. An' since it's located in the woods an' faraway from the town center, I assume that it wouldn't be damaged."
"Sounds like a safe bet." Pacifca agreed. Perhaps Dipper and Mabel are safe there. She mused optimistically. Gourney also nodded, but was distracted by his bandaged knee. The blonde took note of the pained expression on the boy's face.
"Are you able to walk?" Pacifica asked, her voice soothing with concern. The boy shook his head.
"Alright then, how would you like a piggy-back ride?" Fiddleford offered.
"Okay!" Gourney replied, giving him a wide smile. Pacifica had to admit that seeing the boy happy was first wonderful sight she saw in a long while.
"Pacifica, could ya carry the survival packs for me while I carry Gourney?" Fiddleford asked, dropping his backpack and knapsack on the ground.
The blonde girl nodded at the bearded man. She knelt to the ground and picked up the baggage, surprised that she could even lift the heavy pack with all of the survival tools inside. She secured the backpack on her shoulders before grabbing the knapsack and heaving it over her right shoulder. Fiddleford bent down, allowing the boy to properly grip his small arms around his aged shoulders before standing up as high as his bony, bowed legs would tolerate.
"You ready Pacifca?" He asked.
"You know it." She responded, flashing a confident smile.
"Let's do this." Fiddleford affirmed, leading her on the trail to safety.
During their journey, the ragtag trio came across many survivors, both human and supernatural, and invited to join them in their search for the Mystery Shack. They were first approached by Candy Chiu, who hid herself on a large tree branch. Not long afterwards, they discovered Grenda and Sheriff Blubs, who were attempting to cook a squirrel over a fire and were relieved to see the brown meat offered to them. They said that Mayor Tyler Cutebiker and Manly Dan Corduroy were previously with them, but went missing. Later on, the group was approached by two teenage girls, a blonde trucker, a tattooed biker and the U.S.A. guy, all of whom barely escaped the wrath of a giant Gompers.
There was also a good number of supernatural creatures that joined the struggling pack. They first discovered a group of gnomes, one of which was half-petrified in stone. The colony of pointy-hatted men was in search of protection from the Oddpocalyptic onslaught. Not long afterwards, the group came across the Lilputtians. After the anthropomorphic golf balls gave Pacifica a sincere apology for the mini-golf incident, the walking European stereotypes were brought on board. Later on in the journey, they overheard a heated argument between three of the Manotaurs and the Multibear. Fiddleford stepped in to intervene, ultimately bringing the verbal battle to a halt. The hillbilly acted as the mediator, hearing both sides of the story. Turns out that the Manotaurs wanted to eat the Multibear's giant cassette player. Fortunately, Fiddleford offered the four creatures brown meat after they vowed to cease arguing. He also suggested that they join the nomadic group, promising them that they would find sanctuary at the Mystery Shack. The four immediately accepted McGucket's proposal.
Pacifica was surprised that even the unnatural inhabitants of the woods joined their strange party. During the last few weeks, the town newspaper had been full of stories about strange creatures and after her experience with a vengeful ghost she hadn't thought any of them would have been openly friendly to humans. If anything, she would have thought they'd have been on Bill's side but most of them seemed as scared of the demon and his minions as the humans were.
On their trail, Pacifica not only improved her can-opening skill, but assisted Fiddleford in bandaging the survivors who had serious cuts. She learned how to clean scratches with water, applying antibiotic ointment on the wound to prevent infection, and neatly wrap the injury with medical gauze. Pacifica was uneasy about this task at first, due to the germaphobia she developed by her strict upbringing. However Fiddleford noticed how squeamish the girl was, and provided her with medical gloves from his backpack. She was both relieved and silently grateful for McGucket's intervention. Despite the messy undertaking, Pacifica was proud that she was able to help and acquired more practical knowledge and skills from the unconventional hillbilly.
The journey was long and strenuous, but the nomads managed to reach the Mystery Shack before sundown. The group was relieved to find that the tourist trap was still intact despite the destruction Bill and his minions brought upon the poor town. Fiddleford checked to see if the coast was clear before leading the group of exhausted wayfarers to the front porch of their newfound sanctuary. Pacifica stood beside McGucket, who was nervous about confronting Stan Pines and asking him for shelter. Pacifca noted how uneasy he was feeling and decided to help the poor man.
"Hey," Fiddleford was brought out of his insecure state and gazed down at the young lady looking up at him with no trace of fear. "It's gonna be fine." She spoke softly. "If you lose your words, I'll vouch for you."
The old man was touched by Pacifica's short pep talk, giving her a sincere smile. Taking a deep breath, Fiddleford knocked on the door, silently hoping that Stan would not give him a hard time and that he would grant his group asylum from the chaos.
The door swiftly opened, revealing a tired Stan Pines. Pacifica and Fiddleford noticed the dark circles under the con man's bleary eyes, the small tears on his iconic suit and the stench of sweat that coated him. He wore a long frown, which slightly intimidated the hillbilly. After his previous encounters with the fez-headed man, McGucket realized that he had to convince the irritable man.
"Mr. Pines," Fiddleford stated, taking off his comically large brown hat to reveal the small tufts of grey hair on top of his head. "I know that you don't wanna have anythin' ta do wit me, an' I don't blame ya, but please give these innocent people a safe place ta stay!" He dropped down on his knees, bewildering Stan in the process.
"Yeah, we've been struggling to survive Bill Cipher's outlandish assault for almost two days now!" Pacifica added.
"Please Mr. Pines, I-" Fiddleford stopped in mid-sentence when he heard the ear-piercing screech of an eyebat.
"Quick! Everyone get inside now!" Stan loudly ordered, opening his door to allow the frightened stragglers inside. As the group made their way in the home, Fiddleford instinctively lifted Pacifica up alongside Gourney, preventing them from being trampled on by the others. Fortunately, everyone in the pack safely retreated inside the shack and closed the door before the eyebat could attack. Fiddleford gently placed Pacifica and Gourney back on the floor, letting out a small sigh of relief.
"You don't have to worry about those spooky creeps any longer." Stan stated. Fiddleford and Pacifica jerked their heads towards the con man.
"What are you talking about?" Pacifica asked while she dropped the bags of equipment onto the floor.
"I mean the house is completely weird-proofed. Dipper and some other nerd I know created some sorta force shield from unicorn hair that would ward off any dangerous creature. Despite the questionable approach, the shack is totally protected from any outside harm."
Pacifica smiled after hearing Stan's explanation. That definitely sounds like something Dipper would do. She pondered.
"Speaking of which, have you all happened to find my niece and nephew anywhere?" He asked. His eyes scanned the group in the hopes that he would come across the young twins. Many of the survivors shook their heads, wearing sad expressions on their faces.
"I'm sorry Mr. Pines, we weren't able to find 'em anywhere." Fiddleford wistfully replied.
Stan's expression fell for a moment before instantly changing into a grouchy, authoritarian look. "Alright, there's two rules in this house. Don't go upstairs and don't touch anything unless I give you permission to do so. Now go make yourselves comfortable!"
With that, Stan rushed up the stairs, leaving the stragglers to their own devices. Pacifica approached Fiddleford, who carefully inspected his surroundings as though he was familiar with the place. Unaware of the nostalgia Fiddleford was experiencing, she verbally expressed her concern.
"Are you okay?" She asked.
"I'm fine darlin'." He replied. "It's been a while since I last visited this place. At least while I was in my right mind." Despite Fiddleford's light chuckling, Pacifica was still in the dark over what that last part meant.
"Listen, I'm just gonna take a short walk around the house ta help jog my memory. I'll return in a few minutes in case you need anythin'." Pacifica nodded at the old man. Fiddleford returned the smile before making his exit from the living room.
The young blonde couldn't help but wonder how Fiddleford ever became associated with the Pines. But her train of thought was broken by the clanging noises that erupted in the kitchen. She ran towards the room only to discover the mass chaos that ensued.
All of the survivors were violently scavenging through the cabinets and refrigerator in search for food. Humans and creatures alike were spilling cans of brown meat onto the floor and fighting over whatever sustenance they could get their hands on. Pacifica watched in horror at the pandemonium that unfolded before her eyes. It's an absolute madhouse in here!
Just when things couldn't get any crazier, Pacifica was shoved to the side by an irate Stan Pines.
"What the hell is goin' on here?!" The con man roared. His presence alone brought the fighting to a halt. The stragglers gazed at Stan with fearful eyes. "I leave you people alone for two minutes and this is what I get for invitin' you in!? Don't you even remember the rules I just told ya!"
Whatever patience Stan Pines possessed ever since the beginning of Weirdmageddon had vanished and his anger flew threw the roof. The businessman bellowed a loud battle cry before pummeling two of the manotaurs to the floor. Upon wrestling the muscular beasts, everyone else decided to continue the physical brawl.
I need to find McGucket. Pacifica thought. Turning around, she ran down the halls in the hopes of reaching to the old eccentric. When she returned to the living room, she was distraught to find that there was not a single person besides herself. She frantically ran around the first floor until she found a door left ajar. She picked up her pace until she approached the room. The blonde found the bearded man writing on a portable chalkboard. Pacifica gently knocked on the door to alert him of her presence.
Fiddleford was startled by the sound and turned around. His face lit up in a smile to see the young blonde. "Howdy Pacifica!" He greeted.
"McGucket, there's a huge fight in the kitchen." Pacifica informed him.
"What?!"
"All of the survivors were rummaging the kitchen for food, Mr. Pines yelled at them and decided to fight them! It's become an all-out battle royale out there!"
"Sweet Sasparilla!" He shrieked. "We gotta git everyone ta cooperate if we wanna make this work. Fortunately, I got a plan that will put all our qualms about sustenance ta rest!"
The old man wheeled the chalkboard out of the room and down the hallway with Pacifica following from behind. As Fiddleford and Pacifica sprinted their way towards the kitchen, they discovered that the brawl took itself into the living room. Stan especially was a participant as he gave left hook after left hook at the band of gnomes.
McGucket decided to walk towards the fighting, his head held high with determination. Pacifica could only look at the hillbilly in awe and anxiety, fearing that he would be beaten by the others.
Fiddleford stopped in his tracks and gave a loud whistle. The fighting ceased as the whistle silenced everyone in the room. They all gave McGucket their undivided attention.
"Now that everyone's done horseplayin', I have a solution to our current food crisis." Fiddleford stood on top of a wooden crate and flipped over the chalk board to reveal a drawn-out map of the forest, including a white line connecting the Mystery Shack to a circled tree. He pointed his illustration and continued to speak. "In the forest, there's an underground bunker that has an enormous stash of food that'll last us a long while. It's not too far from the Mystery Shack and I know how to access it. However, I'm gonna need some helpin' hands to carry as much food as possible. So I'm goin' ta need a few volunteers."
There was hushed murmuring among the stragglers. Fiddleford was fearful that they would point and laugh at his suggestions, calling him 'crazy' or 'off his rockers'. He was about to step down from his make-shift podium in defeat, but a few brave individuals stepped forward.
"I'll join." Sheriff Blubs stated as he walked ahead of the crowd.
"I volunteer as tribute!" Grenda declared solemnly, raising her arm up into the air. Fiddleford's face went blank with confusion at the reference but Pacifica laughed so he figured it was a joke and smiled.
"I'll go with you." Candy Chiu added, standing right beside Grenda.
"I'll join as well." Multibear announced.
"I'm in." Chutzpar the Manotaur said.
Fiddleford was pleased to see the number of willing participants. Granted, it would have been nice if more of the adults had volunteered instead of two of the children, but two of the stronger supernatural creatures wanted to join the cause. At this point in time, any help was welcome. but any help was welcome. "Excellent! We'll begin our trek early tomorrow mornin' an' we'll return with more food for everyone!"
The stragglers cheered in response, giving the eccentric approval of his plan. Pacifica looked to Fiddleford, giving him a small, but sincere smile. In return Fiddleford beamed joyfully at the girl.
"Hey!" A gruff voice sounded, almost demolishing the duo's heartfelt moment. Fiddleford turned to his left to discover Stan Pines, wearing his frown, with his arms crossed. "I want to speak with you alone."
Fiddleford looked to Pacifica. She gave him a nod before he stepped down. Fiddleford was nervous about confronting Stan, but there was something in the con man's dark brown eyes that told him that he wouldn't receive any scolding. Stan led Fiddleford away from the chalkboard, sliding their way through the crowd. The young girl watched as the two old men exited the living room.
Later that evening, Pacifica tried to fall asleep on the makeshift bed in the hallway, but it was too difficult. The cold air seeping through the house gave her goosebumps all over her body. She fervently rubbed her arms in order to stay warm, but to no avail.
Suddenly, she heard two pairs of shuffling footsteps drawing close to her mattress. She shut her eyes, pretending she was asleep. She listened in on two hushed voices conversing.
"I can't thank ya enough fer allowin' us ta stay at the shack Stanley." A familiar accented voice said.
Stanley? Pacifica thought. Isn't his name Stanford?
"Eh, don't mention it," Stan shrugged.
"I still can't believe you have a surplus of blankets in store." Fiddleford added, his voice drawing closer to where Pacifica was 'sleeping'.
"Yeah well, I figured that having an abundant number of blankets around would beat having to pay for heating." The businessman casually explained. "What can I say, I'm a frugal man."
The girl tried to remain still despite her shivering. But out of the blue, she felt the texture of warm fleece blanket coating her quaking body, as well as a delicate hand gently ruffling her hair. She heard the creaking of the hardwood floorboards as the two men vacated the hallway.
Curiosity got the best of Pacifica as the girl silently rose from her bed, wrapped the blanket around her and tiptoed towards the living room entrance. She peeked from behind the wall to get a better look, hoping that the darkness that enveloped the room would shield her from the two adults.
"You miss Dipper an' Mabel, don't cha?" Fiddleford softly inquired. Stan didn't need to verbally answer the hillbilly's query. He let out a sorrowful sigh, his eyes downcast on the carpeted floor.
"I can empathize wit what yer goin' through." McGucket spoke up. "The pangs of guilt fer not savin' yer loved ones, the self-loathin' fer not doin' more fer 'em."
Stan lifted his head up almost immediately. Furrowing his brow, he stared doubtfully at the eccentric man.
"I lost my son Tate ta that demonic triangle." Fiddleford explained, his voice filled with grief. "I was residin' in the bunker fer the past few weeks, an' I installed security cameras so I could keep an eye on the town. An' when Weirdmageddon began, one of them eyebats petrified Tate to stone and brought him over to Bill's estate. An' I feel terrible fer not bein' there fer him. I should 'ave protected him from Bill's monstrous minions."
Pacifica gaped at Fiddleford's story. She never took into consideration that Fiddleford had family that he deeply cared for. She was also saddened to hear his proclamation of guilt and self-hatred.
Stan felt guilty for undermining the eccentric hillbilly. He was aware that McGucket and his son were not on the best of terms, but he knew that the old coot still loved his kid. Stan realized that with Dipper and Mabel, there was the possibility that they are still out there on another part of town and that they had a fighting chance. If anyone could survive in this craziness it was them. He had to hold on to that thought.
"I was a coward fer not doin' anythin' ta protect my lil' Tater Tot! I don't think I could forgive myself! I can't-"
Fiddleford was silenced when he was pulled into a fierce bear hug. It took him a while to assess the situation, that Stan was reluctantly comforting him. The old man resumed sobbing, soaking the con man's suit with his tears.
"Hey now, don't cry." Stan spoke, attempting to console the old southerner. "You can't be wastin' your energy regretting the past." Fiddleford's scrawny frame shook harder. Assuaging people who weren't family was not one of Stan's strong suits, but he continued to try and calm the hillbilly down anyways.
"You're not a coward. Heck, you saved all those people today and brought them here to safety. So you're much braver than you give yourself credit for."
Fiddleford wrapped his arms around Stan and gave him a gentle squeeze. The old con man was unused to people outside of his family giving him affection. Reluctantly, he rubbed the southerner's bony back up and down as a way of physically comforting him. It took Fiddleford five minutes to expel the rest of his sobs. When he the last of his tears had shed, he slowly released himself from Stan's hold and tearfully smiled at the businessman.
"Thank you so much." McGucket said softly.
"Don't mention it. Ever." Stan told him sternly, still feeling uneasy. "...but we all gotta cry sometimes I suppose."
Fiddleford nodded in agreement while wiping away an oncoming tear in his right eye. However, he gave a yelp when he felt two strong arms sweep him off his feet without warning. Stan heaved Fiddleford and walked towards the armchair. He gently placed the southerner in the comfortable couch before he unceremoniously dropped the comforter onto McGucket.
"You better get some shut eye. I'll be on the lookout for any spookums while you sleep." Stan said, "I'm gonna go grab my shotgun."
Fiddleford was astonished at Stan's kind gestures. It was truly a pleasant surprise to see the more human side to the gruff old man. "Thank you Stanley."
"Sure thing." Stan mumbled. "Now get some rest possum breath. We got a long day ahead of us tomorrow and I can't allow you to be sleep-deprived."
With that, Stan exited the living room, taking the only source of light with him. Pacifica moved towards the kitchen to avoid Stan's detection. When she saw the lantern light disappear, she stealthily crept towards the living room entrance.
Pacifica gave a small smile at the sleeping figure on the couch.
"Blondie!" A gruff voice whispered. Pacifica whipped her head around only to see Stan standing on the stairs with the lantern light off.
Pacifica was flustered upon getting caught. "H-how long have you been standing there?!"
"Long enough." Stan huffed. "I want you to know two things. First off, you can't tell another soul about my real name, got it?" Pacifica nodded reluctantly, not sure why it even mattered to her host.
"Secondly, just because you're safe from strolling outside tomorrow doesn't mean that you get to take it easy! I'm gonna need you're help with taking care of the others while my right-hand man is gone."
The girl was miffed with the con man's commands. "Why are you dumping all of this responsibility on me?"
"Hey, I may be the leader, but I'm gonna need some extra hands to do my bidding." He retorted. "Also, I know that you have a soft spot for that old coot, and having you assist me might make him proud of ya."
Pacifica was livid with Stan. Why does he have to state the truth out loud? "Look, I don't know what you're talking about!" She lied, crossing her arms in emphasis.
"Don't try and fool me little girl! I know you like him." Stan snapped as he walked up the steps. He halted before speaking at a softer tone.
"...and I can understand why."
Pacifica was stunned. Stan knew the truth and there was no denying it. Sighing to herself, she retreated to the makeshift bed and drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, Fiddleford and his rag-tag group each ate a can of brown meat before they started their perilous mission. McGucket, Sheriff Blubs, Candy, Grenda, Multibear and Chutzpar all carried backpacks and sacks to stock the food in. Just as they were about to exit the shack, a wobbling voice halted them in their tracks.
"Wait!" Pacifica shouted. She sprinted towards the southern man.
"Pacifica? Is somethin' wrong dear?" Fiddleford asked worriedly, kneeling on the ground to converse with her at eye level.
She glanced at the hardwood floor, trying to muster her courage before speaking. "You better be safe out there, okay?" She told him, her voice slightly wavering. She attempted to cover her worry with the fierce look on her face. "And if you don't come back to the Mystery Shack, I'll sue the overalls off of you. Got it?"
McGucket gave a light chuckle as he carefully held his reassuring hands over her frightful ones. Pacifica was surprised at Fiddleford's action. "Don't worry Pacifica, I'll make sure that the group and I will be extra careful, and we'll be back with a truckload of food before ya know it!"
Fiddleford gently squeezed her hands before he got up. Hauling his backpack onto his shoulders, he addressed to his team. "It's gonna be dangerous, but remember to lay low and follow my lead." The other members nodded.
With that, McGucket and his crew stealthily stepped outside the Mystery Shack. Pacifica closed the door before running towards the window. She saw McGucket and his crew running into the woods, successfully avoiding attention of the surreal beasts that roamed outside. The blonde walked away from the window and perched herself against the wall. She was concerned for their safety, especially Fiddleford's. She silently placed her faith in the bearded man, knowing that he will carefully lead his ragtag team to obtain more food for the rest of the survivors.
Seven hours had passed since Fiddleford and his crew left in search of more food. Within that time Pacifica gained more information concerning first aid procedures from Stan as they patched up the others in the make-shift emergency room. She even received sewing lessons from the grouchy man, learning how to mend bits of rags into something wearable. Afterwards, Stan gave Pacifica a list of chores around the house, ranging from sweeping the floor to doing the dishes, while Stan retreated to his lounge-chair to catch up on his reading. She didn't know what to make of the con man; he was very knowledgeable, sure, but he chooses to lay around the house when there was work to be done.
She continued to brush the dirt off the floor with a broom until she heard the sound of heavy footsteps from outside. Pacifica rushed to the front window, swiping the curtain off to the side to get a better view. She saw Fiddleford carrying a box full of canned meat, leading the group who also carried mass amounts of sustenance either by hand or by wheelbarrow. Pacifica also took note of the newer faces that joined the pack; A mustachioed gentleman with a stone woodpecker on his shoulder, a Greasy's Diner employee, Several Timez, Rumbles McSkirmish, a disheveled gnome, two unicorns, and...Toby Determined? The hapless 'news reporter' sported a blue mohawk, a pink shirt, leather pants. He was making a miserable attempt at pulling off a post-apocalyptic punk look and it wasn't working for him at all.
As the pack drew closer to the Mystery Shack, Several Timez were singing what sounded like a folk song about Soos of all things.
Though the evil triangle attacks,
Soos the Handyman has got your back!
"We're back with the goods!" McGucket proclaimed as he and his team entered inside the shack. The other two Manotaurs warmly welcomed the new people inside the shack and helped carry the surplus of food while leading them towards the kitchen. The unkempt gnome waltzed ahead of McGucket and took note of his fellow brethren. "Shmebulock!"
"Shmebulock!" Jeff the Gnome cried with joy, tears of happiness spilling from his eyes. The head gnome ran as fast as his tiny legs would allow before pulling his dirty companion in a loving embrace. "I'm so relieved to see you! I thought you were a goner, but thank goodness you're alive!" He lovingly rocked his compatriot side to side, hanging onto him for dear life. Once Jeff released Shmebulock from his hold, he turned towards the bearded hillbilly.
"I can't thank you enough for rescuing my friend Fiddleford! I'm eternally indebted to you!"
"Aw shucks, you don't have ta do anythin' for me." Fiddleford responded to the gnome leader. "It just warms my heart to see two pals happily reunite durin' such tryin' times."
"McGucket, you're bleeding!" Pacifica shouted fearfully, pointing at his injury.
The old hillbilly quickly glanced down at the massive scratch on his left arm. The gash was oozing with rose-red blood, dripping off of his arm and splattering on the dirtied floorboards. Only now did he realize the deep laceration on his appendage.
"Oh! I must've got that from fightin' that eye bat earlier." He noted. The man snapped from his train of thought when he felt a small gloved hand pulling on his cast. Before Pacifica could lead the inventor out of the room, she heard a gravelly voice from the other side of the room.
"McGucket, wait!" Stan called out. Pacifica and Fiddleford turned to look at the distressed con man. "Did you find the twins?"
Fiddleford sadly looked at the worried con man before giving a reply. "I'm sorry Stanley, I couldn't find 'em. But I asked everyone for news of 'em and Toby said he saw Dipper and Wendy. I didn't see any sign of 'em."
Pacifica could have sworn that she saw a tear forming in the corner of Stan's left eye, but the con man swiftly turned his back on them and when he turned around, his face was dry. "Toby, get over here," he barked. "I've got some questions for you." The con man dragged the startled middle-aged punk by the arm and retreated upstairs. Pacifica didn't stay to listen, she could find out what the others knew later. Fiddleford's injury was her priority at the moment. She looked back at Fiddleford, who was still in need of medical attention.
"Let me fix you up." Pacifica calmly told McGucket, gingerly tugging at the hillbilly's good arm and leading him out of the living room. The walk towards the makeshift emergency room was silent, but not awkward. Fiddleford was still crestfallen from that he hadn't been able to give Stan better news. He felt as though he failed him. Pacifica was deep in thought figuring out how she could comfort Fiddleford.
The two entered the makeshift emergency room, which was already filled with other patients. She walked with the old man over towards a free table and two empty chairs, a serviceable place to nurse his injury.
"Hey, you did the best you could, and Stan knows that." Pacifica assuaged as the two took their seats. The young aristocrat opened the first aid kit and gathered the necessary supplies to properly care for the wound. "Perhaps Dipper and Mabel are together in another part of town, kicking some demon butt."
"Well Toby said Dipper was looking for Mabel when he saw him, so maybe they are." Fiddleford softly smiled at her for giving him the hopeful thought.
She diligently tended to his wound, using the skills he'd taught her only yesterday. As she applied a wet cloth onto his scratch, Fiddleford started telling her about the quest for food and the news the new members of their small band of survivors had told him as she nursed his arm. His words greatly helped Pacifica concentrate at the task at hand, focusing on his story rather than the blood. Taking the old man's injured arm, she applied antibiotic cream on the injury. Immediately afterwards, the blonde carefully wrapped his arm with gauze, ensuring that the medical tape would suppress the bleeding. She also noticed a small cut on his left hand. Finding a band aid in the bottom of his bag of seemingly endless tricks, she placed the small adhesive onto his hand, smoothing it out over the small cut. Fiddleford couldn't help being surprised that she cared so much about such a tiny wound. Before Weirdmageddon started, and not counting Dipper and Mabel, it seemed like ages ago since anyone cared if he lived or died. Now here was this tiny girl from a well-to-do family worrying about him. Once Pacifica completed her task, she proudly nodded at her handiwork.
"There, you should be good for now." She stated confidently.
Fiddleford stared down at his now bandaged arm. He was astonished by how much she's improved in terms of first aid care.
"Why thank you Pacifica!" He told her. "You truly are a wonderful person."
The blonde girl tried to cover up her embarrassment and pleasure at his words by laughing like it means nothing. "Don't mention it, alright. You've done so much for everyone, I figured that fixing your arm was the least I could do."
If Pacifica was being honest with herself, Fiddleford's words meant a lot more than she was letting on. Growing up, her family had never offered much in the way of praise. It was always "Don't let down the family name," this or, "take that off this instant right now young lady," that. One of her early nannies had complimented a picture she'd made but her father had complained about the mess she'd made and the nanny had been fired for allowing her to ruin her dress with paint. It wasn't even like she would have worn the dress again anyway. Sometimes as a little girl, Pacifica had felt more like a doll her parents wanted to show off than an actual child. For years she assumed that was normal. This was emphasized with the bedtime stories her mother would tell her. Fairy tales with horrible endings to instill lessons about appearances. The worst of which was The Ugly Duckling, which concluded with the titular character growing up without any friends because of his appearances. She only learned about the true ending of the story after her second adventure with Dipper, in which he told her that the Ugly Duckling did grow up to become a beautiful swan. While Pacifica was glad that The Ugly Duckling did have a happy ending, that meant that her mother had fed her lies her whole life about how outer beauty outshines the character of a person. If she ever did anything too bad her father used the bell. She hated that bell more than anything else in the world. Even now, Pacifica reflected, she hated the bell more than she hated Bill. That probably made her a bad person. Dipper would be disappointed if he knew, but she couldn't help it...
McGucket was so different from her parents though. He genuinely seemed to care and Pacifica still didn't know why. She wasn't his family and, before the Weirdmagedon, she hadn't ever done anything nice for him. She remembered the house party at the Mystery Shack earlier that summer and how she bribed the poor hillbilly five dollars if he applauded her so that she could win the party queen crown. Her cheeks burnt with shame of that memory. She hadn't even known what sharing was until Mabel taught her and even after that, she hadn't thought to help the local kook.
Pacifica felt like she didn't fit in anywhere. She wasn't the daughter her parents want but she didn't know how to be anything else either. Then she looked at Fiddleford's kind smile. Maybe I do belong somewhere and, right now, it's here with McGucket.
Suddenly, Stan walked into the emergency room and approached the table. Fiddleford immediately became anxious, fearing that the con man felt nothing but resentment towards him.
"Listen Stanley, I'm sorry I couldn't find Dipper an' Mabel. I tried lookin' for 'em an-"
"I don't wanna hear it." Stan interrupted, holding a hand up. "You've done nothing wrong possum breath, so quit apologizing." He pulled up a chair and took a seat before turning towards Pacifica. "Thanks for helping me out around the house blondie."
She didn't know what to say. Maybe Fiddleford isn't the only one who thinks she was just another Northwest waste of space. She opened her mouth to say something but Stan turned to Fiddleford before she could say anything. Perhaps it was probably for the best anyway.
"I wanna thank you for retrieving the surplus of food for everyone." Stan told him gruffly. "I had enough to keep me going for a few weeks but not nearly enough to feed this ragtag lot of misfits you've landed me with." Despite his rough tone it was clear that Stan didn't mind housing the survivors and he really was grateful for the extra food. He averted his eyes away embarrassed only to feel a warm hand place itself over his own. He looked up to find Fiddleford smiling at him.
"Yer welcome." Fiddleford responded happily. "I figure it would settle us for a while for all the extra mouths I've brought ya." The inventor then shifted himself in his seat before addressing an important issue that had been eating his mind for some time. "Now that we cleared up the food problem, I've been brainstormin' lately on how we're gonna defeat Bill, an-"
"Hold it right there, we are not gonna go outside again!" Stan interrupted. "We've got the food we need now. Why would you wanna risk leaving again?"
"Well what else are we gonna do? We can't just stay inside here forever!" Fiddleford reasoned. "There's gonna be a point where we're gonna run outta food-"
"Then we'll feast on the gnomes." Stan suggested and Pacifica is forcibly reminded of her father suggesting they hid from a ghost and eat the butler, though she believed, unlike her father, that Stan was only joking.
"Stanley!" Fiddleford scolded brusque businessman for making such a morbid comment.
"Look, fighting against that demon is practically a death wish. We have everything we need in here, so why don't you just forget about it."
"NO I WON"T!" Fiddleford snapped, slamming his right fist onto the table. Stan and Pacifica were taken aback by the southerner's sudden outburst.
"I spent the last thirty-some-odd years tryin' ta forget, an' as a result I became a homeless, good-fer-nothin' wreck! Now that I've been regainin' my memories, I don't wanna forget anymore! I wanna be able ta help everyone, atone fer my past mistakes an' save Ford!"
McGucket stood up from his seat and proceeded to make his exit. Stan watched in awe as Fiddleford stormed out of the room. Pacifica scooted from her chair and proceeded to follow Fiddleford's cue.
"If I learned one thing from my experiences with your niece and nephew it's that even when the going got tough, they still persevered through it all and triumphed over adversity. Dipper and Mabel are two of the bravest people I know and I assumed that the rest of their family were just as courageous. But now after hearing you prattle on about hiding from the enemy, I realize that you're nothing more than a coward."
The rest of the day was very awkward for the three of them. Fiddleford and Stan refused to talk to each other. Pacifica decided to stay close to Fiddleford most of the time. She couldn't help but agree with the inventor's logic. Yes, it was scary, but they couldn't hide in the shack forever.
She also couldn't understand Stan's refusal to go outside again. Surely he wants to find Dipper and Mabel? He still seems worried about them so why won't he look? Is he really just a coward? This thought didn't seem to fit right in her head. This was the man who scaled a cliff while punching an eagle before jumping off said cliff all to save his niece and nephew. Why won't he do anything now.
Now there was the mystery of why he's now apparently called Stanley instead of Stanford and Fiddleford wants to save someone named Ford. There were so many things she did not understand and she wasn't sure how to ask. Staying close by Fiddleford's side made her feel a bit better though.
Later that evening, Pacifica retreated to her makeshift bed by the stairwell. For the second night in a row, she struggled to fall asleep but from the snores coming from the other rooms. She believed she was the only one awake.
Pacifica eventually got up and made her way to the kitchen to get a drink. She poured herself a glass of water and started drinking it when she heared the front door open and close. She made her way towards the window to investigate. Peering out of the window, she saw Stan venture out into the forest alone with nothing but a baseball bat, some brass knuckles and a flashlight.
She did not know what to do at first, but after a few moments of indecision she ran and woke Fiddleford from his sleep, informing him of what she had seen.
He went pale at her story and ran to the front door. However he was too late. The eccentric was unable to see where Stan was and there was very little chance of finding him in the dark. He considered going out and following Stan anyway, but an eyeball bat swoops down from the trees and he was forced to shut the door again.
"I don't know what that man thinks he's doing," he muttered anxiously, "and people call me a kook!" He noticed that Pacifica was still there and he gave a somewhat strained smiled. "I'm sure he'll be back soon."
She wasn't sure she believed him but she pretended to be reassured anyway.
"I suggest ya get some sleep," He calmly told her. She nodded, knowing she would not be able to sleep anytime some but returned back to her makeshift bed anyway.
A few hours later, she heard the front door open and close again.
"And where do ya think yer going?" Fiddleford inquired in a quiet, but angry voice that was laced with relief. He stood near the entrance of the living room, arms crossed and with his back against the wall.
There are a few seconds of silence before Stan replied gruffly, "None of your beeswax." The con man huffed as he strode passed McGucket. He was clearly unhappy at being caught, especially by Fiddleford of all people. But McGucket swiftly grabbed Stan by the wrist, stopping him in his tracks.
"Not good enough. Where were ya?" The hillbilly pressed further.
"You forget who's in charge here?!" Stan retaliated in a hushed whisper, yanking his wrist from Fiddleford's grasp. "If I want to look for my niece and nephew without you tagging along then it's my business, not yours!"
When the sound of Stan's footsteps faded, Fiddleford heaved a long sigh. Even though the eccentric hillbilly and the gruff businessman didn't always see eye-to-eye, he was silently grateful that Stan returned to the shack safe and sound and retreated back to the couch to get some much-needed rest.
Pacifica smiled. Stan's 'not leaving the shack' policy clearly wasn't as strong as he'd have them all believe. She rolled over and soon drifted off to sleep.
It was the fourth day of Weirdmageddon and things at the Mystery Shack were relatively stable. Stan, now donned in a red sash with CHIEF written across it, was still lounging on his "throne". He slept comfortably on the pool chair, with an open issue of Gold Chains for Old Men lying on top of him. Fiddleford was busily completing some research on his specialized laptop, hoping to figure out a way to stop Bill. Despite what Stan had done last night, which neither he nor Fiddleford had brought up, he still insisted they all stay inside and hide. Pacifica, now wearing a dress made from purple rags that she sewed herself, walked up towards McGucket.
"Any luck?" Pacifica asked, looking at the computer beside the old man.
"Not yet darlin'. " McGucket answered, quickly looking at the young girl before turning his attention back to the computer screen. His bony fingers fervently typed on the keyboard to find a solution. When the computer screen flashed red, the old eccentric was visibly annoyed at the machine's lack of cooperation.
"Oh horse spittle!" He shouted, slamming his laptop shut out of frustration. Fiddleford's response scared Stan out of his sleep, jolting upwards from his pool chair.
"What the heck was that for?!" Stan yelled angrily. "I was sleeping, ya jerk!"
"It's near impossible ta get an internet signal in here an' there's only so much research on Bill saved on here. I also wanna know how the rest of the world's doin' since this began. Maybe I can talk to some researchers aroun' the world an' we can formulate a solution together..."
"Oh that. My advice is give up." Stan grunted, lying back down on the chair and continuing to read. Pacifica expected Fiddleford to bring up Stan leaving last night. However, Fiddleford silently shook his head. When Fiddleford could not chastise Stan, Pacifica marched towards the con man and opened her mouth to confront him.
"Well then, do you have any other bright ideas chief? " Pacifica asked sarcastically.
"Nah." Stan shrugged, skimming through his magazine. He was about to resume his peaceful Gold Chains session, but was interrupted by the sound of pattering footsteps.
"Fiddleford! Stan!" Jeff the Gnome cried as he rushed into the emergency room.
"What's wrong Jeff?" Fiddleford asked with concern.
The fez headed man pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. "Ugh, what is it this time?"
"Wax Larry King escaped the air vents and is on a violent rampage!" The gnome leader explained.
"Oh boy," Stan sighed, forcing himself up from his lounge chair. "I'll go find one of my rifles and blow that no-good news reporter to bits."
"Stanley Pines, we are not goin' ta resort ta gun violence as a means of solvin' our issues." Fiddleford scolded as he dragged the con man by his arm away from the pool chair.
"Ugh fine!" Stan complained, releasing his arm from the hillbilly's grip. "If you're gonna be anti-second amendment, at least let me use bat violence on this one!" The fez-headed man grabbed a baseball bat from the floor before heading towards the living room.
"Come with me Pacifica, I'm gonna need yer help restrainin' Stan on the off-chance he goes berserk." Fiddleford addressed to the young girl. Not objecting to his words, Pacifica strolled alongside the bearded man.
When the trio arrived at the scene, they saw a disembodied head of the renown news reporter chasing some of the gnomes and the Lilputtians into a corner.
"So, you're about to be eaten alive. Tell me about that." He inquired as if he was interviewing someone for Q and A segment on CNN.
"Hey, you back away from them you wax gremlin!" Stan yelled at the disembodied head. "The only main dish you'll be eating is a knuckle sandwich!" Not deterred by the con man's threat, Wax Larry King hopped onto his arm and proceeded to bite on it.
"Aw come on!" Stan yelled, violently shaking the decapitated head off of his limb.
"Here, hold these for me please." Fiddleford addressed a brown-haired gnome, handing him his spectacles. Fiddleford proceeded to get down on all fours and lunged onto the poor con man. Pacifica confusedly watched the brawl go down. Wax Larry King attempted to flee, but the bearded hillbilly captured the head, securing his hold by the reporter's ears. He lifted himself up from the ground and moved towards the stairwell. Grenda opened the air vent. McGucket shoved the wax head inside and the strong girl closed up the entryway, imprisoning him.
Pacifica helped Stan back on his feet. "You alright?" She questioned out of concern.
"Yeah, my arm's killin' me, but otherwise I'm good." Stan replied.
Fiddleford returned to the blonde girl and the chief, beaming happily at the two. "Uh, thanks for your help you crazy coot." Stan said quietly. Fiddleford gave the con man a warm smile in return.
Everyone seemed to calm down from the frenzy. Suddenly, the group heard multiple footsteps coming from the front porch. They all started murmuring to themselves, but Stan and Fiddleford stood in the center of the room, facing at the doorway. They mentally prepared for whoever, or whatever, was about to enter the shack. Stan retrieved his bat and held it up high, prepared to strike down the intruder. Fiddleford was down on his arms and legs, like a wolf ready to capture its prey. Pacifica stood in between the two old codgers, clenching her fists with determination. The rest of the group followed suit.
The door slammed open, revealing a hatted boy, a sweater-wearing girl, a redhead, and a handyman, all of whom were wearing their fiercest war faces.
AN: Firstly, I hoped you enjoyed this story. I hope the first chapter wasn't too daunting, but I wanted to set up Pacifica and Fiddleford's previous interactions. And before anyone says so, I believe that Pacifica had mysophobia (germaphobia), which was why she was so hesitant to hold Fiddleford's hand during the zodiac scene without wearing gloves. Also I'm shocked that there were no fics concerning how Fiddleford gathered all of the survivors and brought them over to the Mystery Shack. It's a shame too because he's such an underrated character who deserves more love.
I originally wrote this story in early 2016, just a few weeks after the series finale of Gravity Falls, and posted it on AO3. The story was originally going to be about Fiddleford finding Pacifica during Weirdmageddon, developing an unlikely bond, and ends up with him adopting her. Essentially, this is a Fiddleford takes Pacifica in as his surrogate daughter story.
I put the story on hold when I started graduate school, and now that I've got more free time, I reread the story and found it to be too melodramatic and I want to take a new approach to the story (it's still going to end with the McGuckets taking Pacifica in, but I want to add some more interaction with the three of them before doing so). Fortunately, with the release of Gravity Falls: Lost Legends and the information about the characters, specifically Pacifica working at Greasy's Diner as well as Fiddleford and Tate finding out ways to 'bust the ghosts, I found some interesting ideas that I want to play with and turn into an interesting story that continues from where the show concluded.
So the first two chapters of this story will still remain the same and become the prelude to my upcoming story, which revolves around Fiddleford and Tate teaming up with Pacifica to bust the ghosts lurking around the manor. And honestly, I feel that would be a more fun story idea that falls in line with the show's tone than what I was originally going for with this story. But if you did like my original story, I have them still posted up under 'abandoned chapter' on AO3.
Please comment for a review or any feedback! Thank you!