March break is next week, and I've been devoting all my time to ISUs so I'll hopefully have more time to write over the break instead of during my week off. But, we'll all see how that turns out.

Review please!

Disclaimer: I don't own Gravity Falls.

It was hard to tell if the interior of the gnome pub was actually seedy, or if it was a nice, normal hang-out. Everything in this next of the woods was a little too… Bright for his liking. Not like the sun, but awful enough make him constantly squint. The beard was certainly not helping things. It was too itchy. Facial hair was awful, and he had no idea how Ford had ever put up with it. He had found the darkest corner in the little restaurant, a difficult feat. He had the rickety, wooden table to himself and a glass of orange juice in front of him, freshly stolen from the town diner. That was the only good thing about the little pub: they carried decent drinks. He no longer had to steal from the imposter. Well, he still did, just to spite the man, but there were other ways of getting what he wanted, even if the man suddenly decided that he was no longer going to buy orange juice.

Money was easy to come across in the pub. Idiots dropped coins everywhere, they fell through the floorboards, where no one (Well, except for him.) could reach. It was not difficult to impersonate an employee either. Everyone was too stupid, and drunk, to ever notice the double who occasionally stole from the cash register, or collected tips for an identical employee.

It was incredibly packed in the pub that day. There were so many gnomes, it seemed like the place would burst. The sound was deafening, the entire place seemed to shake. The doors opened and closed so frequently that it seemed like they would fall off their hinges. Smears of rainbow-coloured liquid pooled on the floor. Knowing their source, he made sure to avoid all of them. Each table was over maximum capacity, but no one seemed to mind as they sung and drank.

Today was some sort of spring holiday. Green shamrocks were strung from the ceiling, and there were golden symbols painted on the wall, just for the occasion. In addition to that, almost every patron was wearing green hats instead of the usual scarlet. He was pinched more than once. It wasn't until he wore green that they stopped. He had no interest in celebrating with the rest though. He just wanted to drink his orange juice in peace, and scout out any news. Granted this was probably not the best place to go for peace, but it was the best place for news.

Everyone in the lighter part of the woods came here. Seeing as he couldn't go to the sunny parts during the day, he was forced to come at night. Even then it was annoyingly bright. But, the information was interesting, and the juice was good. He was still getting a feel for the place and wanted to know everything about his surroundings so he could blend in without question. He didn't want to be caught off guard, or alert the wrong person to who he was. That would cause problems, and he was not going to go back to imprisonment because he trusted someone too much.

The laughter swelled, and several people stepped back, pushing against his table. His orange juice nearly tipped over, but he saved it. Growling, he got to his feet, planning on yelling at the fool that dared get in his way. He couldn't tell who it had been. Everyone looked exactly the same. There was more laughter, and everyone raised their glasses in a toast. He heard cheering. He picked up his glass, copying the rest, but faked taking a sip. He wanted to know what he was drinking to first.

The source of everyone's happiness seemed to be coming from the bar. He pushed his way through the tightly-knit crowd, and reached the inner ring. A half-circle was formed around one of the patrons. He seemed utterly unremarkable, except for his bright, amber eyes. His first instinct was to flee, as he was not going to put up with anything that nerd, was doing. He was all trouble, and nothing but that. Running seemed like the best option, before he noticed. His eyes weren't looking at him though, he was too busy cackling with the rest of the group, getting drunk. He was charming them with lies no doubt. One gnome walked up and slapped the demon on the back.

"You did us a real service, getting rid of that jerk!"

"It was my pleasure! You guys deserve better than to be studied like animals!"

"Tell us what you did again!" Someone in the crowd yelled.

He flashed a toothy grin.

"I tore his sanity to shreds and kicked him out of his own home! He's in another dimension now! Probably getting chased by like, a... A monster or something, I dunno'. Pretty terrible though!"

So he was lying to get popularity? Yes, that seemed about right, and certainly not surprising. The stupid nerd thought he was so great because he had tricked one person. Meanwhile, he had been deceiving and entire civilization of idiots, and they had not realized anything. Oh that jerk and his stupid ego, he hated watching him lie, and preen like he was. Especially when it was so obvious that he was making up stories. He knew what had actually happened, the imposter had told him the truth!

There was another round of cheers.

"See? What a guy! I say we give him free drinks for the night!"

"Woo hoo! Drinks are all on me fellas!"

How did that make any sense? Were the drinks going to all be free for the rest of the night, or would only one person be getting them? No one seemed to question the logic, as more orders were taken and given to everyone there. He passed, no longer interested in the local gossip. This was different, it was something important. It was also something he hadn't really been thinking about either, or at least, trying not to think about. Every memory of that six-fingered looser was painful. He was glad to wash his hands of the monster who had raised him from infancy. The jerk who thought it was justified to freeze him because he was "too dangerous." So was a tranquilizer gun, but people weren't hankering to cryogenically freeze them!

He didn't want to remember what his brother had said either, talking about finding him again. He was searching for the other journals. And the moment he got those, he would have access to them as well. It didn't matter what the brother was planning to do with them… He forced his attention to go back to the bar, not wanting to debate over what to do about the twins.

The patrons were still laughing, they always seemed to be laughing, even when nothing was funny. He didn't understand why they had to be so happy at a time like this. It was miserable and cold outside. There was sleet, and puddle of ice. The interior of the building smelled like alcohol and strawberries, yet none of that seemed to matter as they congratulated the liar.

"But there's still that other guy, in his house!"

"What? That idiot? Don't even worry about him! Between you, me, and the other one hundred seventeen people in this building, it'll take him decades to get that thing working without my help. And when he does… I might just have to push him in as well! Ha!"

"You'd actually do that?"

The words had tumbled out of his mouth before he could even think about what he was doing. The piercing gaze was pinned on him now, and he felt his insides freeze up

"Well, probably not. I actually have plans for him, and the rest of their family."

He kept quiet this time, having enough sense to stay silent. It was exactly the valuable information he had been waiting for, and there would no doubt be more revealed as the night went on.

Stanley opened the fridge. The orange juice was practically empty, which meant his house had been broken into again, even if the journal was resting in its usual space. The only reason why the carton wasn't empty was because the dumb shape-shifter was too lazy to throw it out. He closed the fridge, and turned around. Sitting at the kitchen table was the orange-juice thief. Apparently he had moved up to higher forms of crime as well, because he was munching on a slice of toast. The toast he had made not a minute ago, for himself.

The kid's (At least, he was pretending to be a kid, his kid.) eyes had dark circles under them. Darker than usual. Stanley wondered if he was actually half-boy half-raccoon at the moment. He may have looked gaunt and tired as ever, but there was an oddly haunted look to his face. The normal, bright intensity behind his expression had faded, almost as if he were worried about something. His eyes were trained on him as he quietly munched on his stolen toast.

"If you keep stealing my food you're gonna' have to start paying for it."

"I'll tell the entire town you don't feed me."

"Ha! Like they'd believe it! What do you want anyways you little freeloader?"

"You're…" He set down his toast, and swallowed hard. "You're not getting any help from… Someone else, right?"

It didn't take much to make Stanley suspicious of the guy, and he had done much now. Folding his arms over his chest, Stanley replied;

"I don't trust you to be nice around the customers."

"No, I meant with the…" He pointed to the floor. "You're on your own, right?"

"Alright, where is this going? Is it a sabotage attempt? You want to dismantle it don't you?!"

"Are you or are you not working with someone?"

"I'm not letting you help-"

"Damn it old man!" He snarled, slamming his hands on the table. "Just answer the question!"

"No one is helping me! No one in this town knows anything!" His voice broke. "I… Even though I need someone's help. It's just… Not gonna' happen. I can't let anyone else find out."

Stanley pulled out a chair and sat down across from the guy. He grabbed the second, untouched of piece of toast from his plate, and started to eat. The shape-shifter glared, but made no move to reclaim it. The toast was completely dry. No margarine, no peanut butter… Maybe he was too dumb to realize that either of those things actually went with toast. It was more like eating a mouthful of crumbling dust than breakfast. He was too lazy to stand at this point, and continued to eat.

"I…"

He looked back at the shape-shifter. Who seemed uncomfortable all of a sudden.

"What?"

With the brusque question, he seemed to regain some of his defiance.

"I'm going to be putting up a shield around this house."

"Says who?"

"I've been wandering through the forest, and many of the creatures there resent being studied by… You."

Great, just fantastic. He had escaped all of his own demons and their demands for money, and now he was stuck with the enemies that his brother had made. Except this time around, it wasn't just goons and their weapons. It was ghosts and demons and whatever weird stuff this town had to offer. At least he had a shape-shifter on his side. Sort of. Not really. He was just sort of here for the journal and food. Why he hadn't been killed yet was a mystery. Or maybe the guy was just incapable of purchasing orange juice on his own. Given everything, it wouldn't be that surprising. And either way, there was just no escaping the problems that came with identity theft.

"I'm sure I can handle whatever comes my way."

"I'm sure you can. It's just one particular… Nerd that I'm worried about."

"So I'll beat him up."

"The problem is he can't really be beat up under most circumstances. Which is why I want a shield to keep him out around the house."

"Fine. But it better not scare off any tourists."

The shape-shifter grinned.

"You won't even know that it's there."

"Good. Now scram before the Saturday rush comes around."

Stanley picked up the plate and dumped it in the sink. He straightened his tie, and entered the gift shop. Things had been going nicely ever since he got the idea to splice taxidermy animals to make new attractions. The tourists loved it, and he was making more money than ever before. The best part was that the Gravity Falls Museum of History had no shortage of the dumb things. He could just sneak in every now and again, to pick up what he needed. The shop looked more abundant than ever with so many oddities. He flipped the sign on the door to open, and sat down at the counter.

It didn't take long for the first people to enter. They were out of towners too, even better. They were easier to scam than the people in town, even if it wasn't by much. They were ready to buy anything as a keepsake. Postcards he had stolen from the mail-man, key chains made out of paper clips, and even the junk mail advertisements he had fished out of people's recycling. Taking a deep breath and putting a smile on his face, he strode up to the group.

"Hi there! I'm Stanford Pines, man of mystery! I guess you could call me Mister Mystery! And this is the Murder Hut! Is there anything I can help you with? Oddities you'd like to see, gifts you'd like to buy?"

"What's that over there?" A man asked.

Stanley looked in the direction he was pointing at, which just so happened to be the rest of the room.

"What's which?" Stanley asked.

"That boy." A woman chimed in. "Why is he sweeping the exact same spot?"

"Does he need a girlfriend?" Their daughter asked.

Boy could only mean one person, and now that it was mentioned, he could see the head of hair peeking out from behind the still-drying cat-opus. His smile became twitchier, but he nevertheless tried to not let it faze him. Hadn't he told that bozo to scram? Stanley strode over to the boy, and clapped a hand on his shoulder. He flinched, but did not stop sweeping the spot. He kept his eyes downcast, and there was a slight dusting of blush on his cheeks.

"Why this, this is the Mysterious Mister Mystery, Junior! For twenty bucks I'll tell ya' more about him."

The bill was shoved in his hand, and they eagerly stared at him.

"Junior here is most definitely single." Stanley began.

The girl squealed, and the boy bowed his head father down. He definitely looked like he regretted his decision to stick around now.

"But he's also cursed!"

They gasped.

"Yes cursed, by a horrible, terrible-" Stanley grabbed the nearest attraction, which just so happened to be an hourglass. "THIS! And this curse forces him to sweep the floors, unable to speak, or move his legs!"

"How terrible!"

"Is there a cure?"

"Does the cure involve a kiss from his one true love?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, there is. A mixture of the colours green and white seems to snap him out of the-"

Forty bucks was waved in front of the kid's face. He blinked, and looked upwards. Stanley mouthed "play along" at the shape-shifter.

"The trance." He slowly said, taking the money. "This money seems to have-"

He froze up again.

"Quick! Show him more before the curse takes over again."

Sixty dollars.

"More!"

Ninety dollars.

"Just a little-"

One hundred. Stanley decided to quit before he got ahead, there were still other ways to scam the guy out of his money, he didn't want to blow it all on one attraction, and get suspicious. Ruffling the kid's hair, he continued to give them a tour of the display area, slowly draining them for everything that they had on them. In the end, he even managed to give the place's phone number to the girl (despite the fact that it was already on the flyer her mother was holding), in exchange for her little gold stud earrings.

By the time they were sent on their way, the suckers must have given him two-hundred dollars. Or maybe two-fifty. Either way, he still had enough money to buy groceries for three months. He locked it in his safe, a triumphant grin on his face. When he turned to leave his office, there was someone sweeping just outside of it. Stanley tapped him on the shoulder, eliciting another nervous flinch from the tiny figure. He was wilted over the broom, as if he wanted to make himself look smaller.

"Hey, look at me."

"I do what I want." He replied, as if that explained everything.

"You can't keep sticking around and mooching off me if you're not going to respect my rules."

"I could kill you."

"So could a door with one hinge. But I'm not going to give the front door everything it wants just because it could kill me. Now you're either going to explain why you're still here, and start to listen to me a little more, or I'll just rip out the pages I need from the journal and burn the rest like I should have done to begin with."

The shape-shifter scowled, and he looked back down at the floor. It was hard to watch himself keep his eyes downcast and shift in place. Even the little twisting motions he was making with his balled hands reminded Stanley of when he was a child. Getting in trouble typically meant a good scolding, or the belt, and he remembered trying (and usually failing) to weasel his way out of trouble. Every tiny gesture reminded him of it. Not that it was hard to forget when the shape-shifter was mimicking a younger version of himself, right down to the clothes that he wore.

"Stanford has many enemies." He spat. "And if the one who can possess bodies realizes I'm free and helping you-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. This creep can possess bodies?"

"Yes, it's the only way he can interact with us. But so long as there's a shield around the place, he won't be able to reach the inside of the house, or the gateway. But until I make that shield, you could be in…" He mumbled the rest into his shirt.

"Yeesh kid-"

"I'm not a kid!" He snapped.

"Oh yeah, that's right. In human years, you're an infant."

"Rrr! I doesn't matter! You're probably in danger so I'm going to stick around and make sure that no triangular jerks decide to show up on your doorstep!"

"So you're just going to stick around here and cost me money?"

"Yes! So get used to having a son, old man!"

The shape-shifter dropped the broom and stormed out of the hallway. Geeze that guy was over-emotional. Was he going through some sort of shape-shifter puberty? Just, the way he talked, and acted… Yup, he was definitely going through some kind of childhood to adult transition. He sounded more like a younger Stanford than ever, even with his ridiculous twelve-year-old voice. But, he had made him a wad of cash within ten minutes. He could use talent like that around the Murder Hut. Stanley felt a tiny grin show on his face. He was going to milk this guy for all he was worth.