Rise of Orion

by bubbajack

Takes places directly after episode "Into the Bunker". Losses can sometimes lead to gains. Mason 'Dipper Pines learns this all too well when a strange device created by the Author to defeat Bill connects itself to his wrist. Will it be enough? Will it be his salvation or damnation? Or perhaps the key to new adventures. Multi-crossover. Dipper Harem! Beta/Soundboard requested.

1. Chapter 1

Rise of Orion

By: Bubbajack

Beta: Grammarly

Disclaimer: I don't own Gravity Falls or anything else in this fic.

Ch.1: Life and Times of Mason Pines.

---

A gentle wind blew through the forest of Gravity Falls Oregon, making the boughs of the trees sway in the night, and the light of the waxing moon filled the attic room with a pale light. Therein, Mason 'Dipper' Orion Pines fell into a fitful sleep after crying himself to sleep. The reason for this was quite simple Wendy had politely turned him down after the two of them had survived their trek into the bunker in the forest. He said it was fine at the time, but in truth, he felt his heart shatter into a million little pieces and fall into his stomach. Mable must've known he wasn't taking it well because she quickly set up a slumber party at Candy's and was gone for the night. Leaving him to wallow in his self-pity. Despite all the eccentricities and selfishness, she could be a good sister on occasion.

Since he had finally fallen asleep, he never noticed when his backpack shook and moments later, something slunk out of it crawling across the floor like a slug making a beeline towards Dipper's arm which was hanging over the bed near the floor. As it crawled across the floor its form was revealed in the moonlight. It was a mercurial silver substance that was trailing behind a single globulus black eye with a crimson red dot for a pupil. This thing reared up like a snake as it approached Dipper's dangling hand before a bee needle protruded from its eye and poked the sleeping boy in his finger, drawing a single dot of blood, causing his hand to twitch in his sleep.

Taking in the DNA, the thing did a quick DNA match. 'Twelve point-five percent genetic match to the creator. Minimum parameters met. Commencing integration and biological genetic lock.' The strange thing wrapped itself around the sleeping boy's arm and locked itself into place, its singular eye acting as the face on a wristwatch. With an audible 'click' the thing snapped itself shut around Dipper Pines wrist. 'Docking complete. Commencing with nanite dispersion throughout the compatible host.'

Trillions of billions of microscopic machines spread out from the faux watch sinking into the boy's pores and then even deeper still.

'Integration into host flesh… complete. Integration into the host body's skeletal structure… complete… symbiosis with host nerves… complete. Flooding of host bloodstream… successful… The lining of host digestive tract… complete… coating and integrating into all host organs… successful. Powering internal nanites from host metabolism. Power supply achieved. Duplicating Host Memories… success. Beginning full body scan…'

A low thrumming whir came from the wristwatch. 'Muscle structure… inadequate. Bone structure… lacking mass. Mental capacity… high. Reflexes… weak. Lung capacity… weak. Overall assessment… The current host is incapable of withstanding advanced functions. Solution? Improvements required. Commencing bodily overhaul.'

The trillions of machines inside Dippers body went to work, tearing down and rapidly rebuilding muscle, bone, and severing, reconnecting, and reorganizing nerves while flooding his body with all manner of hormones and chemicals like Melatonin to keep him asleep Testosterone to help speed things up a bit and HGH the human growth hormone.

With that done, the device had one last thing it needed to do. 'Linking to satellite… downloading Intersect Program into host… Download successful. Linking core to hosts subconscious…'

---

Dipper was having a terrible nightmare. He stood in front of the Bottomless Pit unable to move, and the words Wendy told him the other day kept ringing in his ears. Every time they repeated; the ground would give way underneath him a little more… Until finally he fell into the endless oblivion with a scream.

As he fell into the infinite black void, Dipper was joined by of all people, Wendy herself. The redhead was falling right next to him sitting cross-legged looking completely unconcerned about their current circumstances. Dipper looked at her in shock. "W…Wendy?! What are you doing here?!"

Wendy spoke, "Hello Mason Orion Pines. I thought it was time we talked."

Dipper narrowed his eyes. It may've looked like Wendy and sounded like her, but whatever this thing was it lacked her mannerisms and though it looked like it possessed her laidback demeanor, this thing came off as far too detached. Also, he never told her his actual first name, let alone his full name. "Bill is that you? I'll tell you right now, I'm not making any deals!"

The Wendy look-alike frowned. "I am not the Great Adversary Mason Pines. I am here to help you."

"Help me?" Dipper said incredulously, as the wind whipped past his hair showing his big dipper birthmark on his forehead. "How can you help me? How do you expect me to even trust you if I don't even know who you are? For all I know, you could be another Shapeshifter or Bill in disguise!"

Slowly the Wendy clone nodded. "Your logic is sound. Perhaps we should change the venue?" The apparition snapped her fingers.

Dipper found himself in a ballroom sitting at a white-clothed table with a single lit candle in the middle of the table amidst many plates and forks. The woman sat across from him, and on a raised dais say a gleaming baby grand piano.

Dipper looked around. 'Wait I remember this place, its… it was where I played my last piano performance. Before mom and dad got super busy with their jobs.'

"Is this more comfortable?" the faux-Wendy asked not unkindly.

Dipper frowned at her. He knew this… whatever it was, was trying to get on his good side for whatever reason. "Not really. This is a bittersweet memory for me. And anyway, you still look like Wendy."

The being nodded. "I presumed taking the guise of Wendy Corduroy would put you at ease, my apologies."

Dipper watched as Wendy's hair shortened to a bob-cut her hair lightened to copper red, skin tone darkened to a lively peach and finally, she donned a little black dress. It was, but most certainly was not Wendy.

"Is this better Mason?" She asked.

Dipper nodded slowly. "You keep calling me Mason, why?"

"It's your name, your actual name. Why shouldn't I call you it?"

Setting that aside for the moment, Dipper inquired. "Speaking of names, what's yours?"

The girl smiled. "Sian it is an acronym for Supernatural, Intersect, Analyzing, Nanomachine."

She had his full attention when she mentioned supernatural analyzation. He felt more at ease now, knowing he was dealing with a machine and not a malevolent spirit. "Who created you?"

Sian smiled coyly. "The one you call the Author."

Dipper felt his jaw drop. "You… you're serious?"

Sian nodded. "I am Mason. Also, before you ask, no I'm not entirely sure what happened to him either. He was gone one day. I was not active at the time to witness the events that led to his disappearance."

The brown-haired boy looked downtrodden for a moment, but he quickly recovered. "So why are we talking all of the sudden, and what do you want with me?"

Much to Dipper's surprise, the AI was capable of looking sheepish. "When you went down into the bunker, I was able to hide in your backpack. I waited till you were asleep before I did a quick blood test, confirming you are distantly related to my creator before biometrically locked myself to your left wrist."

Dipper shook his head in wonderment. "Wait, wait, I'm related to the Author?" He was thrilled to find out this tidbit of information.

"Indeed," Sian confirmed. "Twelve-point five percent of your DNA matches his."

Dipper set his mind to thinking. 'Well, it's not Grunkle Stan. Maybe I should just ask her?' he decided to do just that. "What is the Author's name?"

"He has always just been the Creator to me," Sian admitted. "But we are getting off-topic. You wanted to know what I wanted with you yes?"

Dipper looked away sheepishly while rubbing the back of his head. "Oh, yeah right."

The embodiment of the AI explained. "My original purpose was to act as a replacement for the Creators journals. I was originally programmed to locate and categorize supernatural anomalies."

"But?" The boy sensed a but coming.

Sian frowned. "But, after Bill Cipher betrayed the Creator…"

She was abruptly cut off by the bewildered twelve-year-old. "Wait, the Author actually trusted Bill?"

"Oh yes. He sought to understand the supernatural and its various creatures and Bill, at first was delighted to help for a price. Over time, however, he eventually revealed his true colors. That he seeks to dominate this dimension. So, using DNA from the Shapeshifter and successfully splicing it with alien nanotechnology which he assumed was originally meant for medicinal purposes, I was repurposed into a prototype battle suit with the primary directive of putting an end to Bill Cipher."

Dipper felt his jaw drop… again. "Woah… again why me? Was I just the closest person or?"

Sian shook her head, "No, I was originally meant to be worn by the Creator, and as I stated you are genetically related to him."

The light of understanding dawned in Dippers eyes. "Oh, so you can only be worn by people who are related to the Author! That makes sense…" Now he had questions. "You said you were a prototype that means you weren't finished. So, what kind of problems should I expect?"

For the second time since they'd met, Dipper was astounded at the range of emotions this AI was displaying. She looked away while rubbing her arm with her opposite hand, displaying clear signs of guilt. "Since I was incomplete before the Creator disappeared, he was unable to find a suitable power source for me. The best solution I was able to come up with was feeding off your metabolism…" Seeing Dippers clueless stare she inquired, "You don't know what that means do you?"

"I don't. I'm only twelve you know. The best I can figure is my metabolism helps me digest food."

Crossing her legs Sian pointed at him and assumed what Dipper referred to as a 'teacher pose', "It does much more than that though that is the very, very basic gist of it. Your metabolism is what transfers energy to every single cell in your body, it is responsible for so many processes it's nigh impossible to list them all." Sian then became sullen. "So, me leeching off of it is… not good." She then brightened a little. "There is good news though."

Dipper hesitated to ask. "What's the good news?"

"Since you have yet to go through puberty, I can and have been modifying your metabolism to better accommodate me, meaning it won't put as much of a strain on you, as long as you don't overdo it."

"Wait, you've been modifying my body without asking?!" He wished she'd brought this up earlier.

"I jumpstarted your puberty early yes. I am guiding it, so you receive optimal results. Why is this a problem?"

Dipper let out a groan of annoyance. "It's not, I guess. But from now on, no bodily modifications without my permission unless it's an emergency or something."

Sian nodded seeming relieved. "Understood… thank you for being so understanding."

Dipper shrugged. "What's done is done. You're not evil at least. So that's a plus. Besides, the evil Dorito known as Bill needs to be stopped."

The AI was glad her host was so determined to stop the dream demon. She giggled at his joke. "Indeed, he does… Mason, may I ask you a few personal questions?"

The boy shrugged his shoulders. "Go ahead?"

The AI leaned on the table her elbows, resting her chin in her hands. "Why do you continually let yourself be called by a nickname you hate?"

Dipper said a little too defensively. "I don't hate the nickname. Mable just has always called me that."

The girl across from him quirked her eyebrow, "Oh, then why go through so much trouble to keep your forehead covered at all times then?"

The boy raised a finger "I…" he lowered it and grudgingly admitted, "Ok so I hate the nickname."

Sian grinned in satisfaction. "You're being honest with yourself, this is good. Now, why is your sister so dependent on you?"

Dipper folded his arms in front of his chest, leaning as far away from her as he could. "That's a little too personal…"

Sian could tell just by reading his body language that Mason didn't want to talk about this. Yet Sian pressed on regardless. "Mason, I've seen your memories, I already know the answer, but I want you to say it."

The boy slumped in defeat. "It started when Mable and I were six. Our mother got her law degree and was an acting lawyer and dad was already a brain surgeon and was rarely home, but with both of them gone, they decided to hire an Au pair to watch us… Victoria," the boy spoke the name with venom. "She was awful. Treated me like crap. Made me do all the cooking cleaning and other things she was supposed to be doing."

"Why just you Mason… why just you?" Sian pressed when he didn't answer.

The boy sighed. He didn't like reliving these memories. "I made a deal with her, she could do whatever she wanted with me, as long as she left Mable alone."

"You defended your sister just like you always do… like she's come to expect you to do."

That's not true." The boy argued.

The AI smiled like a Cheshire cat. "Whenever she is in danger you are the first person to jump to her rescue. The Gnomes, the Gobblewonker, Gideon. You even sacrificed a fun day at the carnival with Miss Corduroy just so Mable could have a pet pig she knew for all of one day."

Dipper tried to interject. "Yeah… but…"

But Sian wasn't done. "Yet how does she repay you shortly afterward? Belittles your height, and even before that makes fun of your supposed lack of masculinity, do I even need to bring up Mermando?"

Dipper turned green CPR didn't count as a first kiss but he didn't need to be reminded of that. "I wish you hadn't."

"See what I mean? She takes advantage of the fact that no matter what kind of crazy hijinks she gets involved in you will always be there to bail her out because you do. Hell, it was her fault Miss Corduroy found out about your crush before you were ready to tell her in the first place."

Dipper opened his mouth to refute that but quickly snapped it shut. It was true if Mable hadn't interfered and locked him and Wendy in that tube? Closet? What was that thing anyway? That a lot of what happened in the bunker wouldn't have happened. Which Dipper would've been absolutely fine with, h begrudgingly he admitted? "Ok so maybe Mable relies on me a bit too much."

Sian sent the boy across from her a pointed glare. "It's called being codependent and it's not healthy."

Dipper threw up his hands. "Either way you look at it, it's my fault she's like this anyway, so it doesn't really matter."

The Artificial Intelligence gave a noncommittal grunt before she just decided it was best to change the subject. "There is one other thing I'd like to discuss."

"Go for it," Mason said sounding less than enthused.

Sian made her pitch. "About the Manotaurs, they were never encountered by the Creator, so I have very little information on them besides your memories. If it is agreeable to you, once you get a handle on how to use me, I would like to spend a day observing them in their natural habitat. One thing that perplexes me is, if they are eating their elderly and you saw no young, then how are they keeping their population up?"

The brown-haired boy rubbed his nonexistent beard. "That's a good question, and I'm fine with that. It gives me an excuse to stay out of the Mystery Shack. I'll see if Grunkle Stan needs anything done in town tomorrow too."

"And all of this will away from Miss Corduroy too yes?" The AI teased knowingly.

"That too."

Sian laughed, sounding so much like Wendy. "We'll speak later Mason."

---

Dipper woke up groaning in pain. His whole body ached, all of his muscles were sore, and his joints didn't feel like they fit anymore. 'Is this puberty? If so, it sucks.'

'This is puberty, Mason. Congratulations on becoming an early bloomer, no thanks necessary.' A familiar voice chimed in his head, causing him to jump on his mattress.

'Sian?' he called out with his thoughts uncertainly.

'Who else you dweeb? You weren't hearing voices before I showed up, were you? As that would be a sign of psychosis.' she mocked with no heat in her tone. She may be an AI, but she clearly modeled her personality at least in part, off Wendy. 'Now, look down at your left wrist.'

Shaking his head at her snark, Dipper did as asked. He saw a gleaming silver watch with an opaque black face on the front. It had no hands or other means of marking time just a single red dot-like an eye staring back at him from the dark. "Sian?"

'Hiya handsome.' She joked. 'Nice to see you up and around.'

'Fuck puberty.' Dipper thought his body in pain as he proceeded to shake his messy brown hair into place to hide his unseemly birthmark and donned his usual attire, plus his white and blue hat.

'You'll thank me eventually.' The AI retorted. 'For now, you should get something to eat and go talk to Stan.'

Silently the boy nodded and made his way downstairs careful to avoid the final broken step like always before he made his way into the kitchen. Grunkle Stan sitting blear-eyed at the table a cup of coffee in one hand and the was wearing a white wifebeater and his blue striped underwear.

Hearing him enter the room, he grunted and raised his mug in salute. "Kid."

"Grunkle Stan," Dipper began awkwardly before deciding this conversation was best had over breakfast. So, making his way to the fridge, Mason got out eggs and scrounged up some ham and a skillet before he laid them all on the counter. "Ok, now…"

Before he could finish, he had a sudden flash of insight. In his mind's eye, he saw how to properly prepare a ham omelet, from pouring cooking oil into the skillet to how to properly crack the eggs and when to flip the omelet. Then, just as quickly as the vision came, it went.

"Kid, you ok?" Stan called out, something akin to concern entering his gravely voice for his great-nephew when he saw the boy stand there in a sudden daze.

Shaking himself out of his sudden stupor, Dipper replied, "I'm fine Grunkle Stan, just deciding what to make for breakfast."

As he expertly followed the directions granted to him by that sudden flash of knowledge, Mason Pines question his new friend that had taken up residence in his mind. 'Sian, just what the blood was that?'

'That young grasshopper was your first use of the Intersect program. Pretty sure I mentioned it last night.'

Dipper cracked the eggs on the side of the skillet scrambling them with a spatula and adding salt, pepper, rosemary, and thyme. 'Yeah, but how's it work exactly?'

The AI gave a sigh before she explained. 'In essence, it is a digital database consisting of all manner of skills, languages, combat, and espionage tactics needed for a CIA field operative. I downloaded it into your brain last night while you were asleep upon recognizing your astonishing mental capacity. It works via flash memory. If you find yourself in a situation where you need to know something, the information will be drawn from your subconscious and into your muscle memory temporarily until the danger has passed.'

Dipper digested this information as he added the ham and flipped the omelet over allowing it to finish cooking. 'So, in other words, I'm a living Gary Stu and Mcguffin all rolled up into one?'

'Essentially, yes.' Sian admitted.

'Cool. Are there any drawbacks I need to know about?' He decided to cross all of his t's and dot all of his I's now instead of later.

'Overuse could lead to mental instability, psychosis, and loss of motor control among other things, due to the strain the intersect puts on the human mind with repeated use.'

Dipper grit his teeth in frustration. 'And you thought it would be a good idea to put that thing in my head because?'

'As you stated earlier Mason, you are young. I decided something was needed to compensate for your lack of experience in many fields. The CIA's Intersect was just what was required to make sure you were ready for any situation that may arise.'

'Yeah, if it or you don't kill me first!' Dipper ended the mental argument divvying up the omelet onto two plates and handing his Grunkle his portion before getting himself a mug and pouring himself some of the black ichor known as coffee and sitting down across from the man. He was a grownup damn it, despite what Wendy and everyone else thought, and he was going to act like one. And adults drank coffee.

Grunkle Stan looked down at the portion of the omelet in front of him, then up at his great-nephew, with his eyebrow raised. "Ok kid, I'll bite, what do you want?"

"What makes you think I want anything, Grunkle Stan?" Dipper asked nervously as he took a sip of his black coffee and grimaced at the bitter taste.

Stan chuckled a little at the face his ward was making. "Yeah, it takes some getting used to. But seriously, don't try to con a conman Dipper. I know you want something. So out with it."

Hearing that nickname coming out of his Grunkle's mouth normally wouldn't bother him. He would ignore it like water off a duck's back, but after his heart to heart with Sian, he didn't feel like just ignoring things that bother him anymore. "It's Mason."

"Hmm?" Stan inquired as he took a bite of his omelet which he silently admitted was excellent.

Taking another swig of black coffee and suppressing a grimace, the boy forged ahead, steeling his nerves. "My name is Mason Grunkle Stan, please use it."

Grunkle Stan looked at him for a moment before nodding and saluting him with his coffee mug. "Alright Mason, what's on your mind." Seeing surprise on his great-nephews face Stan shrugged. "What you didn't actually think I thought Dipper was your name did you c'mon kid, gimme some credit."

"No, I'm just surprised you're not making fun of me like you usually would."

Stan shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Sheesh kid, you know I didn't mean anything by that right? It was just some good-natured ribbing. Hazing, back in my day everyone did it, builds character."

"Right, is that also why you show blatant favoritism toward Mable too?" the boy asked before he dug into his meal.

Stan raised a finger to retort that statement but then rubbed his chin as he thought about it. It's true he did call her princess and let her have her fun more often than not but that's because she reminded him of himself when he was her age while Dipper reminded him of his older brother, he'd lost a decade prior due to his crazy experiments and his own stupidity.

"Ah, crap…" Stand hung his head for a moment. "I'm sorry kid. I… you remind me of someone I miss something awful and… I guess I might'a been projecting the way I act around him onto you… sorry."

Hearing his Grunkles' confession, Dipper felt a little bit better. He looked up from where he had been picking at his meal and managed a weak smile "It's ok."

Stan decided it was time to get to the heart of the matter. "So, what's really going on with you? You come down here, make breakfast, start trying to drink coffee, ask to be called by your name, and then call me out on my shit. What's eating ya kid? Does it have anything to do with Wendy shooting you down yesterday?"

Groaning in embarrassment and hiding his face in his hands, Dipper asked, "Who blabbed?"

"Before Mable left for her sleepover, she mentioned you might be out of sorts for a few days and sent a look at Wendy who looked out of it herself. It wasn't too hard to figure out the cause."

Sitting up but refusing to look at his great-uncle, Dipper braced himself. "Well go ahead and get it over with?"

Stan was lost. "What?"

"The mocking the belittling, the teasing, and the taunting. Go on I'm expecting it so I can take it." Dipper was prepared to take anything his Grunkle could dish out.

Running a hand down his face Stan realized he might've gone a bit too far with his teasing of Mason. "Mashugana kid, I'm not a monster. I've been dumped plenty… I will say you have good taste though. Spunky redheads, trust me, I've been there too." When he saw the tension leave his great nephew's shoulders, he knew he'd managed to reassure him a little. 'I really need to make it up to the kid.' He scratched his perpetual stubble, before a lightbulb when off in his mind. Getting up and going to his wallet he pulled out a couple of hundred-dollar bills before shaking his head and making a split decision. "C'mon kid we're going out for the day. You 'an me."

This threw the pre-teen for a loop. "Wha… but what about the Mystery Shack?"

"It'll keep for one day. Somethings are more important than money, it's about time I realized that. Meet me at the front door in twenty."

Dipper was thrown for a loop by his Grunkles sudden charitable behavior. "Okay."

Since he was already dressed, he decided to hang around the store. Thus, he was the only one present when the door suddenly opened, and a certain redheaded lumberjill walked in. The two locked eyes and stared at each other for a moment, unsure of what to say. The younger of the two broke the silence, giving her a curt nod. "Wendy."

Wendy managed her own awkward little wave. "Hey Dipper, how are you holding up?"

"Fine." His words were short, and he was doing his best to look at anywhere but her and ignoring the mounting pain in his chest that felt like a knife in his heart kept being twisted.

Wendy noticed all of this and grimaced. Her little man was anything but fine, but what could she do? She couldn't date a twelve-year-old! 'No matter how mature he acts! I'll get thrown in jail!'

'Are you sure about that?' A voice in her head counterargued, 'I mean this is Gravity Falls, a town where it is legal to marry a woodpecker!'

Looking at the stuffed moose head next to her, Dipper spoke as if he was talking to Wendy herself. "You should probably just head on home. Grunkle Stan is planning on heading into town today. This tourist trap is gonna be closed for the day."

Wendy was surprised to hear this; she knew just how money-hungry her boss was. He wasn't the type to just let a chance to fleece rubes pass him by. "Seriously?"

"Yes seriously." It was Stan who answered her. "But just because I'm not gonna be here doesn't mean you and Soos won't be expected to work. I pay your salaries and I expect results."

Wendy rolled her eyes. 'Typical.' Narrowing her forest green eyes at her boss, she challenged him. "And what'll you be doing while we're here?"

Putting a hand on Dipper's shoulder, Stan replied. "The kid and I will be picking up some supplies for the Shack. That darn 'S' has been down for too long now."

Wendy couldn't argue with that. The sound of the front door opening was heard and Soos and Mable walked in with Soos carrying Mable's sleeping bag under one arm and Mable being all but covered in glitter. Seeing the three standing in there Mable stopped for once reading the awkward air in the room. Soos did the same.

Mable made her way over to her brother and threw her arms around him. "Hey, dipping sauce, you didn't miss me too much did ya?"

"Sup dawgs?" Soos greeted his boss and friends.

Gently returning the hug Dipper gently chided his sister. "Mable, we're almost teenagers. Don't you think it's about time you started calling me by my name instead of that childish nickname?"

Mable pulled back and looked at her brother oddly. "Whatdaya mean Dipper?"

The slightly younger of the two Mystery Twins sent his sister a deadpan glare. "Mable, you know Dipper isn't actually my name, right?"

Mable looked flabbergasted. "Wha… of course it is."

Mason shook his head slowly at his elder twin. "No, it's a nickname you gave me a long time ago based on my birthmark," He pointed at his forehead before continuing, "One that I really just put up with to make you happy. Do you even remember what my actual name is?"

"Uuuuh… Micky?" She guessed before she rapidly changed her answer at the broken-hearted look on her brothers face. "Michael! No Macklemore! No, wait that's not right…"

Deciding he'd had enough he cut Mable off mid-rant. "It's Mason."

"Mason! I knew it started with an M." Seeing the annoyed look her twin was giving her, she shrugged asking "What so I forget one little thing. I bet you forget stuff about me too."

"Test me." Her brother challenged.

Mable took her brother up on that challenge. "What's my favorite animal?"

"Unicorns."

Mable nodded. "That was an easy one. My full name?"

"Your full name is Maybelline Virgo Pines. You don't like corn on the cob or taffy because it messes with your braces. You got your braces put on two years ago and you were so scared getting them put on, that I had to go back and hold your hand during the procedure. You wanted to learn how to knit after watching Little House on the Prairie. I had to teach you the basics since mom couldn't be bothered. I spent what I had in my piggy bank on yarn for your first sweater. You hate country music cause it either makes you sad or is really honky. You like any kind of pie. I could just go on!" Mason ranted stopping only to get his breath back, "But I won't I'm just…" He shook his head eyes full of disappointment. "I'm just done."

He walked past his sister and crush not looking at either of them, before throwing open the front door with enough force that it actually fell off its hinges. The sound of a car door opening and closing was heard signaling the male twin was waiting for his Grunkle in the white Lincoln that was the stanmobile.

Stan ran a hand down his face. 'I shoulda seen this coming.' He walked over to the downed door and picked it up. "Soos, fix the door while I'm gone, will you?"

The Hispanic man gave a salute. "You got it, boss dude."

"Grunkle Stan, what was all that about?" Mable sounded lost, hurt, and confused.

Propping the broken door up against the wall, Stan looked to Wendy then Mable. "In my experience, a dog can only be kicked so many times before it starts biting those who mistreated it."

With that cryptic piece of advice said the man left the Mystery Shack.

---

The drive into town was mostly silent. Stan focused on driving and Mason glared out at the passing scenery. Clearing his throat awkwardly Stan inquired of his great-nephew. "You don't uh… hate your sister, do you? I think that would break her heart if she thought you did."

The boy crossed his arms in front of himself and glared at the floor of the stanmobile. After a moment he spoke. "No, I don't hate her. I could never hate my sister. I'm just sick and tired of the teasing and her taking me for granted," Looking at his Grunkle Mason continued, "When someone pointed that out to me recently, I denied it… But she couldn't even remember my name Grunkle Stan, and that… that hurts."

Without taking his eyes off the road, Stan reached over and patted his great-nephew on the shoulder. "It'll be ok Mason. Just give it time."

The boy gave a noncommittal grunt before the car came to a stop in front of one of the more higher-end clothing stores. "What are we doing here Grunkle Stan?"

"What you need is to reinvent yourself and as the old saying goes, the clothes make the man. So, let's get to it." Stan told him before he got out of the drivers' side slamming the door shut.

"You don't need to do this," Mason called from the passenger seat as he got out himself. He didn't need his Grunkle feeling sorry for him.

"You think this is charity or something?" Stan asked in his gravelly tone as if reading his thoughts. "Well, it ain't. You wanna be treated like a man, you gotta dress like one, now c'mon."

Smiling a little the boy followed his Grunkle into the store. It was much higher-end than the Walmart or Target he usually went to for clothes. Directly ahead was a glass display cases, the left was lined with luxury wristwatches, while those on the right showcased and all manner of jewelry. The entire store seemed to be set up similarly men's apparel on the left and women's clothing on the opposite side.

Mason immediately went left and started looking over some hats that looked to be made of black felt. He also ran a hand down the dark brown leather coats hanging nearby

"You've got some fine taste young man."

Mason jumped at the unfamiliar voice. Standing behind him was a reedy looking older man, his grey hair was swept back on his head and he had a pair of pince-nez glasses perched on his hawk-like nose. His kindly green eyes looked down at Mason and he was wearing dress pants, and shoes combined with a pressed white shirt underneath a vest. He gave off a grandfatherly air. The man gave a chuckle. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to startle you. I'm Rudy Fitzroy, the proprietor."

Mason nodded respectfully. "Mr. Fitzroy, Mason Pines."

The elderly man picked up one of the hats the boy was eyeballing. "Well young Mason, certainly look like the hat-wearing type. This is a homburg, the precursor to the fedora and in my opinion a better option. Why crinkle up and dent a perfectly good hat, right?"

Mason couldn't help but agree and he chuckled at the man's joke.

"This, meanwhile," He said touching the same leather jacket he'd been eyeing. "Is a sports jacket, a blazer to be specific. Good for all kinds of weather."

"Ah, Mason there you are kid." Grunkle Stan came up to him. "Fitzy, I see you've already met my great-nephew."

Looking to the boy then to Stan the tailor spoke in surprised tones. "Deyn shitering mir!"

"Ikh shik ir nisht!" Stan replied hand over his heart.

It took Mason a moment to realize the two were speaking Yiddish. His dad rarely spoke like this and so he had no idea what they were saying, but he wished they did.

Flash. Linguistics, speech patterns, language, and syntax all flashed through his mind in an instant. Just like that, he could speak and understand Yiddish as fluently as if it were his first language.

"Hey, Mason, you alright? Your spacing out again." Grunkle Stan asked sounding concerned.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine don't worry." He unknowingly replied in Yiddish.

Both men looked at each other, blinked in surprise and exclaimed at the same time, "You speak Yiddish?"

"I do alright." The boy sheepishly replied.

The two older men shared a laugh at that, before switching back to English. "So, Stanley what can I do for you?"

Jabbing his thumb at his great-nephew, Stan got down to brass tax. "Mason here needs a new look. Wants to be taken seriously by the girls."

A twinkle entered Rudy's eye. "Ah, he's that age, is he? He got his eye on a particular gal?"

Stan was quick to brag about his great-nephew. "Yeah, you know Dan Corduroy's daughter, Wendy? She's working at my place for the summer."

"She's wild that one. You have your work cut out for you boychik." Rudy appraised.

Mason scowled. "She already shot me down. She 'just wants to be friends' she said. Apparently, I'm 'too young' to be boyfriend material." The air quotes were implied by the boy's tone.

Rudy put a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Don't give up just because the girl said no once boychik. My Irma, she said no to me three times before she finally agreed to marry me."

"One of those times was in kindergarten if I recall correctly," Stan added.

Rudy nodded wistfully. "Yep, near the swings. I proposed with a plastic ring if I recall," He shook himself out of his reverie before he continued, "Anyway, the point is you shouldn't give up just because a gal turns you down." Plopping the homburg down on the boy's head and rubbing his hands together, Rudy said conspiratorially, "Let's show Miss Corduroy what she's missing out on yeah? So, what kinda style are you looking for?"

"Well, I like to adventure in the woods a lot." His eyes drifted back to the sports jacket.

Rudy caught his gaze and grinned. "So, something rugged, durable but classy. Like a… a modern Indiana Jones… Oh yeah, we can work with this."

"Except without the whip, I don't think Wendy is into that…" Mason facepalmed when he realized he'd said that out loud.

The two adults looked at each other before they burst out laughing. Stan wiped a tear out from under his glasses. "Kid you're a riot you know that?"

"Grunkle Stan, I thought the whole point of this trip is so people stop calling me a kid, so can we start with you?"

---

Mason tried on several outfits, but one thing he made certain of was that they matched his new hat and coat. At the moment he was wearing what he felt was his new signature outfit. His new homburg and blazer, along with a light green polo shirt, charcoal washed jeans and to top it all off a pair of heavy-duty black biker boots that zipped up on the sides.

"For all that exploring you'll be doing." Rudy who insisted he be called Fitzy replied when he asked why them specifically.

While he liked his new look and didn't doubt Fitzy or Grunkle Stan's desire to help him, Mason couldn't help but desire another opinion, a woman's opinion.

"What's wrong Mason you look unsure, and I won't have a dissatisfied customer leaving my store," Fitzy stated.

"Well, it's just that, I'm dressing like this to be taken seriously… but I kinda want a girl's opinion on how I look before I buy any of this stuff."

Fitzy nodded sagely. "Ah, wanna test the new look before you try it on Miss Corduroy. Completely understandable. Wait here a moment, I know just who to ask. She came in here earlier on one of her usual shopping binges. I'm sure she'd be willing to help if I asked."

Fitzy came back shortly leading of all people, Pacifica Northwest. She was wearing a hot evening gown with purple opera gloves and had a black fluffy boa draped over her neck accented by dangling diamond earrings. Despite his dislike for her due to how she treated his sister, Mason had to admit she looked good in that gown.

Pacifica for her part stared at him for a moment before she blinked and shook her head. "Dipper Pines isn't this store a little… upscale for you?" The blonde couldn't not be a rich snob for five seconds it seemed.

For his part, Mason rolled his eyes and gave as good as he got. "Hello to you too, Pacifica. It's Mason, not Dipper. By the way, how are you handling your whole family history being a sham? If I recall correctly, your ancestor was a pig shit shoveler before the big coverup."

Pacifica grimaced at him. "Money can buy a lot of things apparently. Including silence."

Mason huffed; he shouldn't really be surprised the Northwest's money could bury the truth.

Fitzy stepped between the two. "Now, now kinder, no more arguing. Mason, you wanted a woman's opinion, and Pacifica is one of my best customers." He nodded at the snooty blonde. "Pacifica if you would?"

"Only cause it's you Fitzy." Pacifica proceeded to walk around the Pines' boy scrutinizing his new ensemble. She stopped in front of him and pulled his blazer tighter around his shoulders and flipped his homburg up a little before nodding. "There. All in all, I think he looks… acceptable. At the very least, this is a large step up from his usual nerd attire. He looks presentable now like this."

"Thank you?" Mason said, unsure if he was being insulted or not.

"Like whatever." She looked to the store owner. "So, is like, that all you needed Fitzy?"

The elder man smiled at her kindly. "Yes, dear that will be all."

The blonde turned to leave, but Mason didn't want to let her go without thanking her. "Wait."

Pacifica turned; eyebrow cocked. "Yeah?"

"Thanks for the help, I appreciate it."

Pacifica blinked for a moment before nodding slowly. "Yeah, no problem."

"What's with the dress anyway?"

Pacifica rolled her blue eyes to the heavens. "Oh, my parents are throwing the same stupid party they do every year. Northwest Fest. Of course, they expect me to dress up and entertain a bunch of snooty rich kids."

Mason scratched the back of his head, "Well, I'm not sure if it counts for much, but I think you should go with that dress. It looks nice on you."

He might've been imagining it, but for just a second, Mason thought he saw Pacifica smile at him. "I think I'll do that. Pink's my favorite color anyway." She looked towards Fitzy. I'll be buying this one Fitzy."

The man smiled in a grandfatherly way. "Very good Miss Northwest. Bring it up to the till when you're ready."

Mason watched Pacifica walk away confused. When he looked back, he saw the two older men smirking at him as if they knew something he didn't. "What? He asked, utterly flummoxed.

Fitzy just shook his head, still grinning. "Nothing boychik. So, it looks like you've got yourself sorted yeah?"

"How much will all this cost me anyway? Mason asked looking to his Grunkle, he didn't want to put him out of too much cash.

"Not a single red cent. I still owe your Great Uncle for the thing." The shop owner said seriously.

"The thing?" Mason echoed. "What's the thing?"

"We don't talk about the thing," Stan replied in a drop the subject kinda way.

Fitzy asked Stan, "You still got that goat?"

Stan nodded before he asked his own strange inquiry. "Yeah… you still got any of that polish vodka?"

"Yeah… it makes good drain cleaner…. Mashugana what a night that was." Fitzy said shaking his head before heading towards the counter. With Mason feeling very, very confused...

'Maybe some mysteries just shouldn't be solved.' The boy thought to himself.

---

On the opposite side of the store, Pacifica was doing her best to calm herself down in the changing room. Reason being, she had actually talked to Dipp- no, no, he said his name was Mason she reminded herself.

'I talked to Mason! And it wasn't all hurtful barbs… I think. He even said I looked good in this dress!'

At first, when Pacifica found out her heritage had been built upon a lie, she'd been devastated. But her parents covered it up by greasing the right palms. Yet for her, the damage was done. All the money, the prestige, the self-imposed snobbery, the need for perfection the high-class pedigree… it was all a lie. She knew the truth now and with that truth came a sense of freedom.

Pacifica could do the things normal kids did! She could drink soda, eat food in a car, she could make puns which she'd always secretly enjoyed, maybe even play that game Bloodcraft: Overdeath that she thought looked interesting. She knew had one person to thank for her newfound sense of freedom.

Dipper Pines. She knew he was trying to get back at her for being a snob to his sister, but she was thankful to him all the same. This deep-seated thanks had evolved into affection and then outright infatuation for the boy. He didn't care that she was a Northwest. That her family had more money than sense, or that if he'd wanted to, her father could probably have had Great Uncle out of town. He treated her the way she deserved to be treated… which at the time wasn't very nice. But she appreciated the fact that Mason treated her like a person and not someone to schmooze up to unlike all the other so-called 'friends' her parents had introduced her to over the years.

The thought of all the other rich kids she'd met caused Pacifica to deflate. She had to put up those two-faced vipers soon. It was the same every year they'd come over, act all nice while the adults were present but once they were out of earshot, they'd mock her. Call her things like a 'High-class Hillbilly', a 'rich hick', and constantly imply she was a child of incest due to how similar her mother and father looked to each other. She despised Northwest Fest.

But the one thing Pacifica feared more than the company she was forced to keep at the party was the bell. The blasted bell her father kept in his breast pocket at all times. She had, since a young age, been conditioned via wooden paddles, belts, and other unsavory methods, to fear the ringing of that bell. Just last year she finally found a name for what her father had done to her Pavlovian Conditioning. To hear the bell equaled pain. For any infraction she committed that didn't conform to his upper-crust view all her father had to do was ring that bell to bring back the sense of pain to her being.

Yet in her mind, it was all pointless. The heritage of the Northwest's was a sham. So, despite her fear, the natural blonde had started rebelling from her upper-crust upbringing in small ways. She started small not wanting to get caught. Her first infraction had been going out wearing mismatched socks. It was something that normal people did all the time right? Well, she did it too and didn't get caught. Feeling emboldened, she did 'crazier' things. Like leaving her clothes on the floor of her room instead of hanging them up at night, making her own food (She should've added less mustard to her sandwich), and even going to the local pool even though she was told it was for hobos.

It was there she saw Dipper's obvious crush for the gangly, freckled, and redheaded lumberjill Wendy Corduroy. It vexed her to no end. 'Like seriously, what does he see in her? Does he like redheads? Older women? Maybe he finds flannel of all things attractive?' Pacifica couldn't figure it out. Yet she was far from discouraged. She was a Northwest after all. Her legacy may be a sham. But she still had a stubborn streak a country mile wide. As a consequence of her upbringing, she was used to getting what she wanted… and she wanted Mason Pines. She looked at herself in the mirror and nodded to herself.

No lumberjill was going to get in her way.

She exited the changing room with her dress of choice only to find the place was empty sans for Fitzy who was manning the counter. "Did the Pines leave already Fitzy?"

"Ah, Pacifica, meyn tayer! Yes, Stan and Mason left a little bit ago." Fitzy smiled kindly at her. He'd always treated her well and even encouraged her rebellion. He was like her unofficial grandfather figure, always having a kind ear to listen to her complain and knowing when to smile and nod… which was usually when her mother was shopping with her. "Mason went down the street and Stan said something about getting supplies for that shack of his."

Pacifica nodded, absentmindedly handing him her black card. "Hey Fitzy, do you think it's possible to change someone's opinion of you if you try hard enough?"

Only after he'd rung up her purchases and put the dress in a cardboard box did the man answer. "I believe anything is possible should someone tries hard enough. We've managed to cross oceans, fly without wings, and even land on the moon! So, at this point, I think anything is possible."

Pacifica smiled at the man and nodded. 'He's right! If people can do all of that, then getting Mason to give me another chance should be easy by comparison!' Taking her packages, the girl said sincerely. "Thanks, Fitzy. You always know just what to say."

"Anytime Pacifica," He called out to her just as she was reaching for the door handle. "Good luck with Mason my dear. I'll be rooting for you."

Seeing the vibrant blush on the girl's face made teasing her worth it to the old man.

---

Meanwhile, back at the Shack, Mable and Wendy were down in the dumps ruminating over Stan's words. Mable paced back and forth across the wooden floor causing the boards to creak. Waddles watched his mistress as she attempted to walk a hole through the floor. "I mean, ok so I forgot his name, but it's not that big a deal, right?"

Wendy was doing her best to act cool, leaning back her chair and reading a magazine like she always did, but she'd been looking at the same page for the past twenty minutes. Finally, she asked the elder twin. "So, his first names actually Mason huh?"

Mable quit pacing to look over at the redhead. "Yeah. I'm surprised he never told you… considering… you know…"

Sitting upright in her chair Wendy continued. "Dip… Mason I mean, is a cool kid, and I mean that, but there's no way I could ever date him. I mean, he's sweeter than any guy around here hands down, but if word ever got out that I was in a relationship with a twelve-year-old, I'd either get thrown in jail or get put on a watchlist. And that's not counting what my dad'll do. He'd disown me at the very least."

"Nah, I wouldn't worry about that dude," Soos commented distractedly as he tried to hammer in a nail to get the new hinges on the door, his tongue sticking out slightly due to his intense concentration.

"Why?" Wendy asked.

Even Mable was confused. "Yeah, why not?"

"Romeo and Juliet Laws hambone." Soos easily replied, " They cover provisions of statutory laws in some states that pertain to individuals under the age of consent who engage in sexual intercourse, when there is a minor age difference," Soos finished hammering in one nail and lined up another as he continued, "In the case of the State of Oregon, a three year age gap is considered acceptable for both parties."

Both Wendy and Mable blinked mouths agape for a moment. Then Wendy finally ventured to ask. "Umm, Soos… how exactly do you know this? Heck man, why do you know this?"

"Oh, I was helping Mr. Pines with his taxes… something about needing to know the amount of jail time for tax fraud. Took me forever to find the right info, and I picked up a lot of stuff along the way."

Mable thought about it for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, that sounds like Grunkle Stan."

"Sure does," Wendy agreed. Before she became contemplative. "So… I could actually date Mason and not go to jail for it… huh…"

Mable shot Wendy a knowing grin, her braces gleaming. "What's this? Is somebody rethinking their thoughts dating a certain someone?"

Wendy suddenly found the floor very interesting. "Ehh…"

"I wouldn't do that right now dawgs." Soos said as he hammered the final nail into the door hinge, "Little Dude needs time to decompress from well… everything. If Wendy confesses now, it'll just come off as a cheap trick to try and get back into his good graces. Same thing if hambone tries to get the two of them together."

Again, both Wendy and Mable felt their jaws drop. Mable speaking for the two of them, "Soos, how?"

Soos shrugged, wiping sweat from his brow as he replied, "I'm a guy dudes, I can guess what Little Dudes' probably thinking right now."

Both girls looked away shamefaced. Mable asked in a sad broken voice. "Is there anything we can do Soos?"

"I think it would be best to give the Little Dude his space. Maybe try little things like compliments and stuff… and just be there for the dude dawgs. Seems like he needs it."

The two Mystery Shack employees looked at each other and nodded. It was worth a shot. Each had something in Mason they couldn't afford to lose. For one it was a potential boyfriend… but more than that, it was a boyfriend who actually enjoyed mocking cheesy movies, stood up for her, made her smile, and paid attention when she spoke. While for the other, it was the brother she'd known all of her life.

---

Mason walked down the main street of Gravity Falls. In all honesty, he hadn't explored the town much. Outside of Pioneer Day and that one time he tried to impress Wendy and her crew, Stan usually took them directly to Greasy's Diner then back to the Shack. So, he decided to spend today to familiarize himself with the town proper. Thus far, he noticed about half a dozen shops he'd never seen before. One shop, in particular, caught his eye. A music store calling itself The Brown Note. The whole front of the store was covered in TVs for some reason.

Chuckling to himself at the name Mason looked around suspiciously to make sure no one was watching him before he made his way into the store. The ringing of a bell made him jump slightly. 'Calm down Mason you're in a music shop, not hunting down a supernatural creature.' So, thinking he straightened his new blazer before he started to look around the store. The right side of the store was covered in shelves that had all manner of vinyl, cassettes, and CD's from various genera's and eras of music and numerous shirt racks were covered with shirts dedicated to various bands or artists. On the other side of the room was a class counter that had various instruments. Some of which also hung up on the wall behind the counter. What surprised the boy the most was the person manning the till.

"Robbie?" He said in surprise.

Hearing his name called in surprise, the goth teen looked up from his magazine and blinked in surprise. "Dipstick?" He chuckled. "What's with the getup twerp?"

Rolling his eyes at the teen's sense of humor. Mason made his way up to the counter. "So, you work here huh? I guess this is where you got your new guitar."

"Got it in one Brainiac," Robbie flipped his hat down. "What're you doing in here anyway? We don't sell kazoo's or recorders. Only big boy instruments."

Pulling his hat back up the younger boy gave as good as he got. "Ha-ha, been napping in any graves lately zombie boy?"

"Why you little!" Robbie was about to reach out for him when someone stepped in.

"Robbie! Like, that's not how we treat customers, man!"

The person in question was a tall woman in her late forties. With long dark brown almost black hair framing her face. She was wearing a black and pink tie-dye shirt along with a pair of torn jeans and sandals on her feet. Her whole appearance just screamed hippie. She was currently looking at Robbie in disappointment.

"Sorry Mrs. Lynne," Robbie said snapping his hands back to his sides sounding contrite.

Shaking her head, the woman made her way forward putting her hands on her hips. "Like accosting the customers is not cool man, it could totally harsh everyone's chill and fill the store with negative energy and bad karma."

Robbie turned away muttering, "He started it."

The woman looked him over and then shook her head. "I doubt that. He's a kid, you're a teenager."

At this point, Mason spoke up. He may not like Robbie, but he didn't want to be the reason for the boy to lose his job. "Actually, ma'am both of us probably said things we shouldn't have. I think it would be for the best if we just let it go. I'm Mason, Mason Pines."

The woman looked at his offered hand for a moment before smiling and taking it. "Hey Mason, I'm Tamara Lynn. Also, I was wrong though you're no kid. It takes a man to admit when he's messed up. You're mature for your age, aren't you?"

It felt good being recognized as a grownup. "I try ma'am."

She wiggled a finger in his direction. "Ah-ah, no 'ma'am'. It's Tamara understand?"

"Yes, Tamara…" It felt unusual to Mason calling an adult by their given name, but he'd have to get used to it he supposed.

She gave him a thumbs up. "Cool. So, Mason you in here to browse or are you looking for something in particular?"

Turning and looking at all the instruments the boy replied. "I just came in to browse… Wait! Is that a Roland AX-7?!" He pointed up high on the shelf.

Following the finger, Tamara saw him pointing to an eighty-eight key, cherry red electric keytar. "That it is. Do you play little dude?"

Even Robbie looked intrigued as he waited for his answer. "I played piano years ago. From four to eight."

Tamara's eye's gleamed with excitement. "You any good?"

Rubbing his arm, Mason sheepishly admitted. "I won a couple of competitions back then, I guess."

Snapping her finger's, she motioned to her employee. "Robbie get that thing down here for the little dude stat."

Sighing Robbie muttered to himself. "Are you hippies supposed to be about free love, and choice and that junk? So why are you so bossy?"

Smiling wide enough to light up the whole room, Tamara replied, "I learned how to harsh other peoples buzzes in business school dude. Now hurry up!"

As Robbie was actually forced to do work at his job, Mason voiced an observation that had been bugging him for a while. "You remind me of one of Robbie's' friends, Tamberly."

"That's my daughter dude," Tamara said with pride. "My wife and I are so proud of our little girl. We just wish she'd stay off her phone sometimes.

"Wife?" Mason echoed. It took him all of five seconds to connect the dots. "Oh… OH!"

"Wait to go and be super awkward dipstick," Robbie commented from his place on top of the ladder.

For his part, Mason looked away embarrassed. "Sorry, it just took me a minute… It doesn't bug me or anything." He rapidly assured the older woman.

Amara ruffled his hair though his hat. "It's all good man. Your brain just needed a second to play catchup. Speaking of catching up. I haven't seen you around before. So, where you from?"

"Piedmont California my sister Mable and I are here for the summer. We're staying with our Great Uncle Stan. He runs that tourist trap outside of town called the Mystery Shack?"

The hippie nodded knowingly, "Right, right, Robbie mentioned that place a couple of times, his ex GF works there. Wendy, right?"

Mason nodded sheepishly. He really didn't feel comfortable talking about her right now. "Yeah, she's a cashier. Just so you know, if you ever come by Grunkle Stan is a total conman, don't buy anything or believe a word he says."

That actually caused the woman to laugh. "Grunkle huh? He sounds like a funny guy. Like a totally far out kinda man."

"You could certainly say that Amara."

"Here," Robbie handed him the AX-7 out of its box, strap already in place. The weight of the instrument felt unfamiliar to him for he'd only ever played traditional piano's, but all the keys were present. He felt like he was greeting an old friend after a long time. 'It's like riding a bike, right?' He hoped that was the case at least. Looking to Amara he asked, "What should I play?"

Amara spread her arms wide and spun around, "Whatever you want dude. This is your show."

Mason's thoughts turned back to Wendy and how things just didn't work out between them… before he knew it, his hands were moving across the keys and he was singing "Forever Man" by Eric Clapton.

He could sing, that was another thing he could do rather well. The reason he sucked so bad at Dusk 2 Dawn was due to both nerves and embarrassment at having to sing the Lamby Dance in costume in front of Wendy. He normally had a great tenor voice.

By the time he finished both singing the song and playing a piano rendition, his audience of two was floored, both had their mouths agape and were staring at him like he was a tourist attraction at the Mystery Shack. Mason was starting to feel exposed by all the staring. "Umm… ta-da?"

A chorus of clapping soon followed, but it was far too loud to be coming from just one person. Turning towards the door, Mason found his Grunkle Stan, Pacifica, and worst of all Tamberly holding her phone and seemingly recording all of this.

Stan came forward smile. "Wow Mason, if I'd have known you had talent like that, I wouldn't have had you wearing wolf-boy costumes to attract rubes."

"Thanks, Grunkle Stan… Tamberly… please tell me you haven't uploaded that to your blog?" the young pre-teen all but begged.

"Like um, do you want me to lie?" the girl asked, playing with the pink stripe in her hair.

"We've talked about recording people without asking first my little Tambourine." Her mother chastised, "It's not cool."

"Neither is calling me by that stupid name mom! Gosh!" The goth shot back at her mother.

Mason for his part ran a hand down his face. "Well, it could be worse… Wendy could know that the song was meant for her."

Tamberly's thumb moved as if on reflex. Mason blinked incredulously… "Tell me you didn't just put #Wendy on that video."

"I'm sorry! It was a reflex!" Tamberly apologized.

Mason felt his world sink out from under him. He paled, removing the keytar from around his neck before he brandished it like an actual ax. Walking forward sedately he spoke in an eerily calm tone. "Amara, you're about to be short a daughter."

Robbie, Grunkle Stan, and Amara grabbed Mason before he could club Tamberly to death as he intended. Stan grabbed him by his collar all while trying to snap his great-nephew out of his murderous fugue state. "Calm down kid!"

"I am calm very calm," Mason said, unable to move because everyone was holding him back.

"Yeah, we noticed," Robbie snapped grabbing him by the shoulders. "Snap out of it, dipstick!"

"Like please don't maul my daughter with a musical instrument. That's so not groovy dude!" Amara begged while trying to take said instrument out of his iron grasp.

The teen suddenly felt a sense of serenity flood his body. Moments later he heard Sian's voice in his head. 'Mason, you need to calm down. This isn't the end of the world.'

'Sian what did you do?' Mason felt drained.

'I just flooded your body with endorphins. You were about to beat Tamberly to death with a Keytar.' It sounded like the AI was chastising him. 'That said, you have a beautiful singing voice and you play wonderfully.'

The boy slowly lowered the musical instrument in his arms. 'Thanks… for stopping me from bashing Tamberly's head in and the compliment.'

'Your welcome Mason I hope you've forgiven me for earlier.' The AI sounded apologetic.

'Wha… we weren't fighting… I wasn't really angry I was just overloaded with too much information at once. Sorry if it seemed like I was angry at you.' The boy explained.

'Ah… that makes sense.' Sian rationalized. 'You should probably reassure the others your alright. We'll get some practice in tomorrow.'

'Right.' With that, the boy returned his attention outward to the people who were around him staring and looking anxious.

"Mason," Pacifica asked, "Are you alright?"

Amara then looked to her customer, "Is everything copacetic man?"

Mason nodded refusing to meet the woman's eye. "Yes, sorry Amara… I should, I should go."

He tried for the door only for Tamberly to put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm like super sorry little dude, I didn't think you'd snap like that." Tamberly looked contrite.

For his part, the boy worked his mouth several times, trying to get words to come out until finally, he sighed. "I'd like to say its no big deal Tamberly, but after Wendy shot me down just yesterday… this is not gonna help things at all."

Both Robbie's and Tamberly's eyes widened. "Like, OMG! You confessed?!" She went to type away on her phone only for her mom to snatch it out of her grasp.

Amara tucked the phone away in her pants pocket. "I think you've gotten in enough trouble with this thing for one day, she then said to the boy, "Be chill Mason nobody got hurt, nothing got broke, so everything's cool man."

Robbie meanwhile was still shocked the preteen had the moxie to confess to his ex. "Hah, what made you think you had a chance dipstick?" Robbie mocked only to be slapped upside the back of the head by both Stan and Amara.

Shut up!" Both adults said simultaneously before looking at each other.

Stan introduced himself. "Stan Pines, sorry about Mason."

"Amara Lynn, and it was my daughter's fault." She said shaking his offered hand.

"Are you alright Mason?" Pacifica asked sounding genuinely concerned.

The preteen nodded. "I'm… I'm fine… I just really don't want to go back to the shack and face Wendy now. It's gonna be twelve different kinds of awkward." He handed the keytar back to Amara. "Here this is yours."

"How much does one of those go for anyway?" Stan asked reaching for his wallet.

"A grand," Amara replied easily.

Stan grabbed his chest. "I think I just had a minor stroke," He looked to his Great Nephew apologetically. "Sorry Mason, too steep for my blood."

"It's fine Grunkle Stan." The boy didn't expect him to actually buy him a keytar. Even a lower-priced one cost three hundred fifty bucks.

"Do you accept debit cards?" Pacifica asked holding out a black card.

Everyone looked to the blonde in shock. Amara was the first to speak. "We… we do."

"Then I'll take one, a leather carrying case, and an amp… please." The last word came out strained like she wasn't used to using it.

Mason took a step towards her confused. "Pacifica why are you…" The blonde sharply cut him off.

The Northwest heiress fixed him with a sharp glare, hands-on-hips. "Look, Pines. You've clearly got talent. For you not to utilize that talent is a crime. Like cutting out a singer's tongue, chopping off a painter's hands, or blinding a photographer. I'm doing this so you can continue to use and hone that talent of yours. So, don't read too much into it alright?"

That wasn't at all what Pacifica wanted to say. She wanted to tell him how beautiful she found his singing, how masterful she found his playing, how she could listen to him all day long. How it even though it had been years since he'd played, he wasn't at all rusty. Yet that wasn't what came out of her mouth at all. Her Northwest pride instilled in her over years and over a decade of practiced putdowns refused to let her be so open. Still, she managed to squeeze a compliment in there somehow, or at least she thought so because he was smiling at her.

Mason couldn't help but smile. "Sure Pacifica, and thanks."

The blonde gave a sincere dare Mason say shy smile in reply. "You're welcome."

The ding of a cash register broke the tender moment between the two. "Your total comes to $1,750, Miss Northwest. Do you like, want a receipt dudette?"

Pacifica shook her head. "No that won't be necessary, thank you."

Amara handed the keytar, now in its leather case to Mason, the amp in her other hand. "Groovy. Here you go Mason; you cool cat you."

Slipping the carrying case over his shoulder, Mason felt… complete for lack of a better term… well almost. Something caught his eye in the display cases. One was filled with felt biker patches. Gazing over them, Mason found one of a pine tree, beneath it, on a ribbon was the caption 'Born to be Wild.'

Pointing at it, he asked. "How much for the patch?"

"A dollar fifty," Amara replied.

The boy glanced at his Grunkle. "Grunkle Stan?"

"Now this I can afford," Stan said reaching for his wallet.

---

After promising not to be a stranger, the two Pines men left The Brown Note and were not so secretly being trailed by a certain blonde. After about five minutes of this, the younger of the two stopped and turned. "Thanks for earlier Pacifica, I owe you one."

The blue-eyed blonde jumped a bit as if she didn't expect them to notice her. "You're… you're welcome Mason,"

"Yeah, your alright Northwest," Stan grunted.

Getting a sudden burst of inspiration, she blurted out, "Mason if you want to pay me back, could you come to play at Northwest Fest?"

"That party your parents are having?"

Stan saw dollar signs. "As Mason's… current legal guardian and temporary manager let's talk about this in my office."

Pulling open the door to Greasy's he led the two to a table, he and his Great Nephew on one side Pacifica on the other.

Turning to his Grunkle eyebrow raised Mason asked, "My manager since when exactly?"

"Since I've been providing you room and board for the past few months," Stan replied flatly.

"I've been working at your tourist trap I think that makes us even." The preteen hotly replied. He wasn't a tourist he could so easily fleece.

"Thirty percent that's all I'm asking."

"You'll take fifteen and like it." The boy said sharply.

Twenty-five." Stan counter-offered.

"Twenty, plus I get to keep any and all tips I make. Final offer." Mason looked his Grunkle straight in the eye as he spoke.

Slowly Stan nodded. "Alright, twenty percent. You drive a hard bargain, Mason."

The two shook hands. "I learned from the best," He then turned to the blonde who was silently watching this all play out. "Sorry about that, but its something that needed to be sorted out right away."

"No worries," Pacifica had a cellphone out and had been seemingly recording all of this. "This is a verbal contract between Pacifica Belladonna Northwest and…" she looked at him expectantly.

"Mason Orion Pines." The boy offered once he realized what she wanted.

"In return for… let's say $120,000 plus expenses, Mason Orion Pines agrees to play at Northwest Fest in two weeks' time. Agreed?"

The boy was shocked at the amount of money he was being offered and slowly nodded. "Agreed." Glancing to his left Mason noticed his Grunkle was practically drooling at the amount of money he'd be making. Elbowing his Grunkle before he embarrassed himself, the boy cleared his throat before continuing. "Anyway, where am I going to keep the money?"

"Do you not have a bank account?" Pacifica inquired sounding confused.

The musician shook his head. "No, most kids our ages don't have bank accounts, much less credit cards."

"Oh." Pacifica sounded embarrassed. This was just another thing in her life she had taken for granted it seemed. "Well, we can work something out I'm sure."

"I can set up a bank account for you Mason." The mechanical female monotone voice came from his left wrist.

Raising said wrist Mason asked in shock, "Sian?"

Noticing the kid talking to his watch Stan easily pieced two and two together. "Where'd you find the smartwatch kid?"

"Out in the woods the other day, some poor sucker must've dropped it." The boy easily went along with the offered lie.

"Heh, their loss, your gain. Must be a Chinese knockoff though. It's no Siri that's for sure." Stan commented offhandedly looking it over.

"Sian is plenty smart Grunkle Stan," Mason said defensively of his AI companion.

"Thank you, Mason, give me a minute and I'll have a routing number set up for you to a bank of your choice."

"Chase," The boy asked. "My parents use it."

"On it." Sian remotely hacked a couple of satellites and quickly set up an account for her host. "Done. We can set up the password later. For now, here's the routing number."

Two and a half minutes later, and at Grunkle Stan's insistence, Mason was sixty- thousand dollars richer, insisting on half upfront. Twenty-four thousand of that which he paid to Grunkle Stan as his twenty percent, leaving him with thirty-six large.

"That's still more money than I've ever had in my life." The boy said to himself in mild shock.

Pacifica stifled a giggle finding his shock at having such a 'paltry' amount of money cute.

Stan was grinning like a cat who caught the canary. "This calls for a celebration! Susan steak and eggs for me, and whatever the kids want on me."

Everyone in the diner gasped! Lazy Susan hesitantly asked, "Stan darlin' you mean you don't want your usual half-plate special?"

Stan leaned back in the booth, folding his hands behind his head and just kept smiling. "Not today Susan, today we're livin' large."

Susan actually blinked both of her eyes she was so surprised. Eventually, she shrugged. "Alright. One steak and eggs, how do you want them cooked?"

Stan was quick to reply. "Medium for the steak and scrambled for the eggs."

She quickly jotted that down before she looked over to the kids. "What about you two?"

"Medium bacon cheeseburger with seasoned fries and… do you still have any of that pasticcio ice-cream left from the other day?" The brown-haired boy asked hopefully.

Susan smiled knowingly. "Sure do pumpkin."

Mason smiled. "I'll take some for dessert."

"Righty-o… and you Miss Northwest?" Susan asked having fixed her lazy gaze on the girl who in living memory had never entered her establishment.

The nervously drummed her fingers on the tabletop before she stuttered out. "I'll… I'll have what Mason's having please."

The waitress nodded before asking quizzically. "Whose Mason?"

"That would be me," Dipper replied. "You didn't actually think my name was Dipper did you, Susan?"

The woman rubbed the back of her head, "Well I always wondered about that. I kinda thought yer folks were a little screwy in the head to name you Dipper of all things. Mason huh? Suits ya sugar. Speakin' of suits, you're looking sharp their kiddo. Been down to Fitzy's have ya?"

"Thanks, Susan." The boy said bashfully while playing with his blazer while everyone had a good laugh.

"I'll get those orders right in." the waitress promised before she tottered off.

Pacifica turned to face her crush once more. "So, Mason, do you think I could get a demonstration of what you'll be playing for Northwest Fest?"

The boy looked around nervously. The diner was full of the usual suspects since it was the lunch rush which included Wendy's father Manly Dan his sons, Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Durland. "Right here? Right now?"

Pacifica nodded. "Please."

"Your gonna be playin' to a crowd much larger than this kid. Might as well shake off the stage fright now rather than choke later during showtime." Stan argued.

Mason nodded he knew his Grunkle was right which was an odd thing to admit even to himself. Unzipping his new carrying case he slung his keytar around his neck and asked, "What would you like to hear? I know Classical, Jazz, Blues, Rock, and Country music."

Pacifica was thrilled. Besides classical, her father would hate pretty much anything else. "Anything but classical sounds great! Surprise me." The blonde broke her usual decorum by placing her elbows on the table palms supporting her chin as she waited expectantly, a smile on her face.

Mason could feel the eyes of the other patrons of Greasy's on him from the moment he took out his keytar. Not wanting to disappoint the waiting crowd he quickly decided on a song and started playing "Boom Boom Boom" by John Lee Hooker. Not that he had anything against ZZ Top's rendition, but why play a copy when the original was available? He closed his eyes as he started belting out the lyrics and played just as he did in the Brown Note and he quickly lost himself in the music. Here, he was in his element. The only other time he felt this sure about himself was when he was investigating something strange and keeping Mable from getting squashed by the villain of the week. For despite everything, his older sister's safety was paramount in his mind.

'I forgot how much I missed this.' Mason thought to himself as he finished up his piano rendition of the song. When he opened his eyes, he found everyone in the restaurant staring at him, just like in the Brown Note earlier. "Sorry, was I off-key?"

Everyone started clapping and whistling, with Sherriff Blubs and Deputy Durland coming up to the table from their usual spot at the countertop Blurb having a big smile on his face. "Well, I'll be, who'd a thought a city boy like you knew how to play the blues? You got some hot hands their city boy."

"Yeah, you're one cool cat that's for sure," Durland added.

Gently setting his keytar aside, the boy nodded "Thanks you two, sorry for disturbing everyone's lunch."

Blubs chuckled his belly jiggling like a bowl full of jelly. "Disturbing everyone's lunch? You'd only be doing that if you stink… and cityboy, you don't." Blurbs reached into his pocket and pulled out a crinkled fiver before slapping it down on the tabletop. "Keep on keeping on Pines."

Durland added another five on top of his partners own before the two headed back to their spots at the countertop. "Yeah, you play real good kid, really good."

When a twenty landed on top of the two fives, the boy looked up to see Manly Dan standing in front of his table. Manson gulped, for even though he wasn't trying to be, the giant of a lumberjack was simply intimidating by nature.

"Mr. Corduroy," Mason said nervously.

"Now, now, none of that 'Mr. Corduroy' crap boy. It's Dan alright!" Much to Mason's surprise, the man wasn't screaming at the top of his lungs.

"Yeah alright, Dan…" That just sounded weird even at the man's request. "Can I help you?"

Placing a massive hand on his shoulder Dan grinned. "That was some fine piano playin' kid. Why I haven't heard piano that good since…" Dan's gaze became far off and he spoke in a wistful tone. "Not since Amanda up and disappeared."

Mason looked to the Corduroy boys for an explanation but Marcus the eldest son just shook his head and nudged his dad in the ribs shaking his dad out of his fugue state.

Dan shook himself like a wet dog. "Hmm, oh, sorry 'bout that. Got stuck down memory lane for a bit. Anyway, nice job kid."

"I think his names Dipper dad." Gus, the youngest piped up.

"No, it ain't. Who names their kid Dipper?" Kevin the middle child argued with his sibling.

The preteen decided to step in before a fight broke out. "Thanks, Dan, and its Mason by the way."

Manly Dan nodded as if he always knew that Mason was his name. He turned to Stan. "Pines, my daughter pulling her weight at your place?"

"Yeah, even if I gotta yell at her to get to work and quit being lazy half the time, she does her part," Stan replied easily.

Dan chuckled shaking his head. "That girl of mine… I'm was half hoping this job'll teach her some responsibility."

Stan's reply was as flat as it was frank. "I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you."

Dan frowned. "I was afraid of that. Maybe I should send her to her cousin's lumber mill after all… Some real hard work may be just what she needs to snap her out of that laidback attitude of hers. She's fifteen now, she needs to start thinking about her future."

"Please don't do that sir." Mason pleaded.

Dan looked at the boy, eyebrow quirked. "Why not? She sounds just as unmotivated as always."

Mason took a moment to formulate his response. "She may not be the most motivated person, but what she is, is the best friend I've ever had. I can't claim to have many if any of those back home and I'd hate to lose one of the few I've made here. I'd… I'd hate to lose her."

Manly Dan was surprised for a moment before he smiled. "Well, look at that. My little chipmunk is being all inspiring and junk. Alright, kid, you convinced me. She can stay."

Mason let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Wendy may have shot him down, and it hurt like hell to be around her right now, but that didn't mean he wanted her sent away. That was the last thing he wanted. "Thank you, Dan."

The lumberjack chuckled. "Wendy should be thanking you."

Out of the corner of his eye, Mason saw Kevin and Gus making kissy faces in his direction. His face heated up immediately. It was obvious they knew he cared for their elder sister as more than 'just a friend' and were bent on teasing him. Marcus though clunked their heads together causing the two to fall over in pain, causing Dan to take notice.

"Hey what happened?"

"They tripped," Marcus said a threatening undercurrent in his uncaring tone, which the younger two caught and silently nodded.

"Be careful boys." Turning back Dan finally noticed the blonde sitting on the opposite side of the booth. He grimaced. "Northwest."

Pacifica looked away uncomfortably. "Mr. Corduroy."

Looking between the two, Mason couldn't help but ask, "Umm, is everything ok?"

Manly Dan shook his head. "Ancient history between her family and mine lad. Bad blood."

"Pacifica?" Mason asked when it became clear the redheaded lumberjack wouldn't be forthcoming with information.

The blonde sighed. "My great-great-grandfather Nathaniel Northwest commissioned Northwest Manor to be created on the hill by various groups of lumberjacks. Promising to hold a lavish party for the entire town once the manor was completed. He, however, reneged on his part of the deal, and the mass deforestation caused a massive mudslide which killed many lumberjacks. Mr. Corduroy's ancestor included I believe. Ever since 'Northwest Fest' has only been a party for the 'elite and upper crust'." Pacifica's disgusted tone indicated just how she felt about this.

Mason nodded. "You don't sound too pleased about this."

"What was your first clue Pines," Pacifica snapped. "My family's entire history is built on nothing but lies, deceit and backstabbing and I… I hate it."

It felt good for the blonde to finally admit it. Like she was cleansing herself of some sort of taint. Much to her surprise she found the boy she was infatuated over smiling at her and he also seemed to be pondering something if that deep almost brooding look on his face was an indication.

Suddenly and without warning, he picked up her cell phone and turned the voice recorder back on before speaking into it. "Furthermore, as a final stipulation of Mason Pines contract, the townsfolk of Gravity Falls are allowed to come to Northwest Fest as long as they dress and conduct themselves appropriately," He looked to the stunned blonde, asking, "I'm assuming suit and tie are required?"

Snapping herself out of her daze the Northwest heiress nodded. "Yes of course."

Mason grimaced. He hated monkey suits even if they were considered proper decorum to give a piano performance. "Noted."

Turning the recorder back off he asked, "Do you think it'll work?"

Pacifica rubbed her jaw. "Possibly, since it's a contract and I've already paid you. Daddy wouldn't dare back out as it would make him look bad… on the other hand, he likely would have a coronary at the idea of letting 'common folk' in the house… Like no offense." It was only after she said it that she realized it might've come off as rude.

"None taken sugar. Here's your food." Lazy Susan replied balancing three trays on her arms.

The blonde looked at her meal. A sandwich consisting of a bun two meat patties with cheese, two strips of cooked bacon, onion, lettuce, and tomato with mayonnaise. Thin strips of fried potatoes dominated the plate and a tall glass full of liquidly ice cream topped with whipped cream and a cherry stat next to her plate.

Pacifica's table manners that had been drilled into her over her lifetime had her moving on autopilot, she moved to unfold her silverware, placing her napkin in her lap and preparing to cut into her sandwich when someone stopped her with a touch.

"Pacifica, you know you can just pick it up and eat it right?" Mason asked his hand gently touching her with a look of bemused concern on his face.

Giving herself a little shake Pacifica gave him a disarming smile. "Right, of course, I knew that."

Placing her tableware aside, the prim and proper girl picked up the burger and took a massive bite. Grease dribbled down her chin as did condiments, but Pacifica didn't care she couldn't help but smile. She'd never felt so… normal in all her short life. Here she was sitting in an ordinary restaurant, eating a common food, across from a boy she (secretly) liked.

It was a good day to be Pacifica Northwest.

Turning to Mr. Corduroy Mason asked, "Manly Dan, what's Wendy's favorite meal from here? I figured since we've been gone all day, we can at least feed her."

Pacifica narrowed his eyes as he brought up Manly Dan's eldest child. Ok, so she still had to deal with his feelings for a certain lumberjill but still, progress!

---

Sadly, all good things must come to an end, and once the meals were finished and check paid for by Stan with Mason leaving the tip and getting food to go for Wendy, Soos, and Mable; the two Pines men said their goodbyes.

Mason offered the blonde girl a shy smile. "I'll see you around Pacifica… thanks for well… everything you did today. It means a lot to me."

The blonde clasped her hands behind her back seeming almost shy to the boy. "It's… It's no trouble. I was glad to do it! As I said, you have talent. It would be a shame to let it go to waste."

She stood there smiling bathed in the twilight glow of the setting sun and Mason felt like this was a memory he wasn't soon to forget.

Then a black rolls Royce pulled up to the diner and the front window rolled down revealing an elderly man in complete butler attire, his head was completely bald, but his upper lip covered by a thick dark brown mustache. "Miss Pacifica, I trust you've found everything you require for the coming festivities?"

"I have Wellington thank you," She glanced at Mason for a moment before adding, "Mason Pines was being a gentleman and keeping me company while I shopped around town."

Wellington got out and eyed the young boy with narrowed dark eyes. "He conducted himself properly I trust?"

Mason found himself meeting the butler's gaze. "Of course, sir."

Pacifica came to his defense. "He was the definition of a gentleman Wellington. He even agreed to provide entertainment for the Northwest Fest."

The butler blinked in surprise. Pacifica had never vouched for someone before. "Is that so," He smiled and nodded at the boy. "You have my thanks for keeping Miss Pacifica company young master Mason."

Mason rubbed the back of his head. "Just Mason is fine sir."

The butler nodded as he proceeded to put Pacifica's purchases in the trunk. "Indeed, young master Mason."

'I guess there's no helping the need for propriety.' Repressing the urge to roll his eyes Mason gave the man a nod as the heiress settled into the backseat.

"I'll be seeing you then?" He asked awkwardly, he never was good at goodbyes or with girls.

Pacifica graced him with a smile so fleeting he almost thought he imagined it. Almost. "You will. Be seeing me around I mean… bye, Mason." Pacifica finished soft just as the engine roared to life before it carried her away.

The Stanmobile quickly took the Rolls Royce's place, with Grunkle Stan at the wheel. "Hop in kiddo." Stan didn't say anything till the boy sat down the bags of food nestled between them his keytar in the backseat, and clothes in the trunk. Yet once they were on the road back to the shack Stan broached the topic. "So, I can't help but notice you've been smiling like an idiot since I pulled up. Any particular reason?" Stan asked knowingly.

"I think… I think I made a friend in Pacifica Northwest today. To be honest, I'm not sure how to feel about it."

"Well if you want my advice…" Stan began only to get cut off by his Great-nephew.

"No, I don't really as its probably going to come in the form of 'Sweep her off her feet get her to say I do, then drain her bank accounts and bail' or something along those lines, right?" Mason asked while turning and giving his Grunkle a sharp glare.

Stan began to sweat. "I Uhm… So, have you thought about how you're going to handle Wendy? Since she's probably seen that video of you singing and all."

Mason facepalmed before he let out a long low groan. "Shit, I forgot all about that!"

'Nice deflection Stan.' The elderly man congratulated himself.

"So… any ideas on how to deal with Wendy?" Mason finally asked unable to come up with anything on his own after minutes of brooding on the subject, and silently thankful his Grunkle hadn't reprimanded him for swearing.

"Don't bring it up unless she does. Just pretend it never happened. Give her the food you got her and play it cool."

Mason nodded, that sounded like a plan. He did note one critical flaw in it though. "What if she does bring it up though?"

"Get out of there as quickly as possible," Stan advised. "It's not a talk you need to have right now."

"Right… Thanks, Grunkle Stan." Mason said sincerely and he meant it.

"Anytime kid," Stan replied, giving him a smirk.

---

Wendy had just finished listening to Mason's song for what must've been the dozenth time when she heard the car pull up. She quickly hid the screen. She had no intentions of making a big deal of the song or even bringing it up. Even though it was obvious he was still carrying a torch for her and this all but confirmed it for the redhead, she didn't wanna rush things. If she did that, it was likely highly likely that she'd screw it up and she didn't want that.

Not this time. Not with him.

So, she leaned back in her chair and pretended to read her magazine all the while keeping her gaze fixed on the door which soon opened revealing the preteen in his new threads. Gone were the grey shorts black vest, red tee, sneakers, and borderline iconic hat. In its place was looking like a sharply dressed cool yet casual dark brown leather blazer over a lime green shirt, the charcoal washed jean offsetting them and both matching his biker boots, while he had what she thought was a fedora of all things completing his new look. He had a leather carrying case on one shoulder and was carrying two paper bags that unless her nose was deceiving her had food from Greasy's.

He looked her way and shot her a hesitant smile. "Hey."

Placing her magazine down and leaning forward so that her chair rested on all four legs Wendy gave the younger Pines' twin an official once over. "Looking sharp there, Mason. I dig the new threads dude."

"Thanks," He came forward and placed one of the two bags on the checkout counter. "There's food in here for you and Soos."

"Awe… you didn't have to talk Mr. Pines into getting us grub dude, but thanks for the free meal."

"I didn't buy you anything," Stan immediately denied from the entrance to the Shack. "The kid spent the money he got playing for tips in Greasy's on you three."

Wendy's forest-green eyes softened considerably upon hearing that. "Mason, you didn't need to do that. Thanks."

"It's nothing don't worry about it." The brunette said bashfully.

"Dude," Soos said digging around in the bag after helping his boss get everything in from the car, "Thanks for the grub. You the man."

"No problem man. I got you the open-faced ham sandwich and rice pudding."

Soos all but drooled. "By all is right and righteous with the universe. How'd you know my fave meal at Greasy's dude?"

Mason shrugged. "I figured there had to be a reason you kept calling Mable hambone all the time, so I took a shot in the dark."

Soos grinned. "Little dude, you're like Batman or something… just without the cool costume and gadgets."

Mason just shrugged before handing Wendy her meal. "I got you chicken fried steak. Your dad said it was your favorite?"

"Yeah… my dad was there? You must've been around during the lunch rush then?" Wendy guessed. Her dad and siblings always ate at Greasy's for lunch. It was like church for them.

"Yeah, the guy gave me a twenty. Nice guy."

Now that surprised her. Her dad was a penny pincher. He had to be for them to survive. With her mother declared legally dead by the courts, they didn't have nearly as much money as they did but they got by due to her father's tireless efforts logging in the forest. Her brothers joined him once they were old enough and even she pitched in when she was younger. So, for him to drop a twenty-dollar bill…

"You must've been something man, my dad doesn't normally do that. Thanks again for the food." Wendy said earnestly.

The young boy just smiled at her. "For you anything. After all, we're best friends, right?"

The way he stressed best friends made Wendy want to wince, but she held it back. He was still clearly hurting. It proved that Soos was correct and she needed to give him time to lick his wounds.

"Right." the lumberjill replied uneasily.

Mason nodded and looked around. "So, where's Mable? I thought the smell of food would've lured her downstairs."

She headed up to your guy's room dude. Said she needed to think about stuff and junk." Wendy informed him, "She took what you said pretty hard," Wendy held a hand up to forestall any arguments from the younger Mystery Twin. "I'm not saying she didn't deserve it; I mean she forgot your actual name. That's harsh dude. No doubt, but she looked broken up as she headed upstairs. I'm just giving you fair warning."

Mason let out a sigh looking up at the ceiling which also held the room he held with his sister. "Thanks for the heads-up Wendy, you're a true friend." He smiled at her and he could tell by his tone that this time he meant it.

Wendy shot him a smirk, and although she didn't know it, it tied mason's stomach into knots. "Anytime dude, good luck."

Holding up the second bag he retorted, "I don't need luck, I have a plan, but thanks."

As she watched him go, Wendy thought to herself hopefully. 'Maybe I still have a chance?' She tucked into her meal thinking, 'I sure hope so.'

---

Mason nervously stood outside the room he shared with his sister. 'What if she locked the door, what if she doesn't want to talk to me, or maybe she's asleep? I hope she doesn't get angry and start throwing things at me.'

'Mason you'll never know any of these potential outcomes if you don't at least try the handle.' Sian chided him from his own mind.

"Right." He finally decided to turn the knob thankfully it opened with no resistance. The room was dark lit only by the rapidly fading light of the sun shining into their triangle-shaped window. Laying haphazardly on the floor was a half-finished sweater the yarn and knitting needles cast aside. On Mable's bed was a giant lump of sheets. Therein Mason knew he would find his sister.

Walking up to the immobile mound the boy called out, "Mable get up, we need to talk."

"Uh-uh." Her muffled voice called back. "It's obvious you hate me, and I don't blame you. I'm a terrible sister!"

"No, you're not." Mason counterargued. "You're just my opposite. You're the whimsical one, the happy one, the one who lives in the moment and doesn't overthink everything. Mable, you're the other half of the coin… my twin."

"Yeah, I'm the one who doesn't think, that can't even remember your name even though we've been almost inseparable for almost thirteen years. I'm the one who almost got you and Wendy killed the other day because I just wanted you to confess when it was none of my business!" That last bit was shouted with Mable throwing her blanket cocoon off.

Her hair was a tangled mess, and she had her sweater pulled halfway up her face meaning she was in 'Sweater Town' as she called it. A place she only went to when she was very depressed. Dried tracks of tears showed that she had been crying. Waddles, ever the loyal pig, was laying next to her.

Holding up the paper bag he coaxed, "Well you're going to have to come out of Sweater Town if you want to eat these pancakes."

Mable motioned to the bag with both arms, sweater still covering her face. "See what I mean, your so thoughtful while I'm thoughtless."

Mason shook his head, "You're not thoughtless, you just look before you leap more often than not and act on the spur of the moment. Mable your creative, outgoing, extroverted and make friends so much more easily than I do. Name on one hand how many friends I had back home."

"I… you… you kinda kept to yourself. You read a lot." Mable admitted. Mable buried her head in her hands. "I'm so sorry Dip… Mason! I never really paid attention to that! If I did then maybe…" Mable stopped talking when she saw her twin holding up a hand.

"It's not your fault. I just… didn't really fit in anywhere back home. I was the loner the guy who surfed the internet and looked up crazy cryptozoology theories (and got into arguments a bunch of times but Mable didn't need to know about that). Friends wasn't a luxury I could afford until recently. It wasn't something I wanted."

Pulling her head up, Mable dared ask. "What did you want back then?"

Mason looked to his elder sister by five measly minutes and smirked. "What did I want? I wanted the hurtling moons of Barsoom. I wanted Storisende and Poictesme, and Holmes shaking me awake to tell me, "The games' afoot!" I wanted to float down the Mississippi on a raft and elude a mob in company with the Duke of Bilgewater and the Lost Dauphin. I wanted Prester John and Excalibur held by a moon-white arm out of a silent lake. I wanted to sail with Ulysses and with Tros of Samothrace and eat the lotus in a land that seemed always afternoon. I wanted the feeling of romance and the sense of wonder I had known as a kid. I wanted the world to be what they had promised me it was going to be - instead of the tawdry, lousy, fouled-up mess it is."

Mable blinked then smirked then did her best to stifle her laughter. She failed. All too soon the dam burst, and she was cackling, and Mason soon joined in with lighter chuckles.

"Quoting your favorite book at me bro-bro really?" Mable got out between guffs.

"Well, it did seem appropriate."

Wiping away a tear Mable replied, "Glory Road always did have some epic lines…" After a moment she asked, "Do you still want all that now?"

Mason pondered it for a moment. "I enjoy our crazy dangerous adventures. Even though we often get put in life-threatening situations… there's something about the thrill of trying to survive in the moment that I just absolutely love. Trying to figure out some strange mystery while simultaneously surviving death by the skin of my teeth… for me, there's nothing else like it."

Mable blinked. She never in a million years would've thought her introverted brother would admit to being an adrenaline junkie. "I see…" In a softer tone, she asked, "Are we cool broseph?"

"Yeah as long as you drop the nickname," He held up the bag. "Now, eat your pancakes before they get cold."

As Mable dug into her still warm meal with relish, she complimented his new attire and asked about his day. That reminded him about something reaching into his pants pockets and pulled out the two matching biker patches Grunkle Stan had purchased for him earlier. "Do you think you can sew these onto either side of my hat sis?"

Finishing up her meal and giving some of it to Waddles Mable looked over the patches. "Pff easy-peasy Mace-a-roni." Mable took the patches and the hat off his head and got a sewing needle and thread which she kept on top of a chest of drawers.

Mason rolled his eyes but smiled. It didn't take her long at all to come up with new nicknames for him, but that was fine. Shedding Dipper felt like a snake shedding a too-tight skin. He didn't feel like Dipper anymore. He had a new look, new confidence, and he glanced down at the watch that was a super cool AI… A new friend.

'Likewise, Mason.' Sian told him in his thoughts.

"And… done," Mable said with pride the patches were stitched on either side of the black homburg.

Mason took it back and admired his sister's handiwork. "Thanks, Mable, I wanted you to have some sort of contribution to this new me."

"New you huh?" Mable looked her brother over. He was usually nervous anxious and six different kinds of stressed. Now he stood tall and confident hat on his head looking like a rough and tumble adventurer. "I like it," She then noticed the leather case and amp and her eyes glittered. "Mason! Are you playing again?!"

Sheepishly he admitted. "Yeah, Pacifica of all people talked me into it."

Letting out a girlish squeal Mable grabbed his hands and started jumping up and down, chanting, "Tell me, tell me, tell me!"

He did so and the more he spoke of his encounters with the Northwest heiress the more Mable grinned a knowing grin. Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore. "Ok, what's with the grin?"

"Pacifica compliments you on your outfit, buy's you a keytar, convinces you to come to play at a fancy party she outright states she dislikes… sounds like she just wants to spend time with you… like she might like you."

Mason was going to stop her before she got started. The last time she tried to help him confess he almost got killed. "Mable whether Pacifica likes me or not, don't get involved. We know how well that worked out last time."

Mable winced and looked away, "Right. I won't bug you to confess…" She silently thought to herself. 'But I will be finding out for myself if she likes you or not. It's my right as a big sister to meddle in your love life.'

"Thank you, also I should let you know I got the entire town invited to this party."

"WHAT?!" Mable screeched, "Why didn't you tell me earlier?! I need to start planning what I want my dress to look like, call Grenda and Candy so we can coordinate colors and I need to go out and buy supplies so I can make the dress!"

Grabbing his sister by the shoulders before she could go full crazy, Mason looked her in the eyes and told her, "Calm down Mabes. You have two weeks to make a dress, I've seen you knit a sweater in a day. If it helps I'll use some of my money to go buy you supplies tomorrow."

"You'll do no such thing!" Mable retorted sharply. "You earned this money and do more than enough for me already. I won't be taking advantage of you anymore this summer."

"Mable…" He didn't expect her to act like this.

She shot him a wink. "Besides Grunkle Stan can't say no to this face and we both know it." She flashed her metal-coated pearly whites.

With that Mable skipped out of the room before yelling, "GRUNKLE STAN, WE HAVE A FASHION EMERGENCY!"

Mason shook his head and chuckled. He knew darn well Mable would end up getting her way as Grunkle Stan had a soft spot for her as wide as the ocean. Throwing his jacket over one bedpost and his newly embroidered hat over another, the boy folded up his clothes and climbed into bed and laid down. It had been a long day and he was ready for some shuteye. He fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

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Word count: 17,890 Number of Pages: 37 Date Completed: 7/20/19

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AN: Hello everyone and welcome to this… thing I've created and will be creating. First things first, I need a new beta/soundboard, if anyone who reads this wants to take up this task after getting to the bottom of this page feel free to PM me. Until I find a beta willing to put up with my madness this is going to stay a one-shot. I have plenty of ideas but sometimes without someone to guide me and anchor me I can get… absurd.

That said this story is a thing that will either become totally epic or completely insane. Those of you who've read my work before know that this isn't my usual fare. The reason for this all came about because I… lost a bet to a friend. Since I lost said bet, I had to watch the following shows: Gravity Falls, Steven Universe Adventure Time, and Star vs The Forces of Evil. Then to top it all off I had to throw Ben 10 into the mix and make a fan fic of them all. Why so many shows… well I kept going double or nothing when I lost. So now here I am making this absurd fanfiction because A) my friend is an asshole and B) …The shows weren't as bad as I thought they would be.

I mean don't get me wrong, someone needs to tell Star that magic is not a toy it is just as dangerous as a loaded gun and should be treated with the same amount of respect as one. That and glitter and macaroni isn't a viable weapon. Seriously someone introduce her to the HP books and she'd be a badass!

Also, someone needs to sit tell Steven down and explain to him that he's in the middle of a FUCKING COLD WAR with an intergalactic alien civilization that hollows out planets for the continued expansion and domination of their species and he needs to stop being so nice and fraternizing with the enemy!

Also something that always bugged me in Gravity Falls is Dipper goes through all that trouble to hide his birthmark he hides it under his hair constantly wears a hat, yet he still goes by that nickname? I just don't buy it myself. And Then there's Mable the girl who always get's her way and never learns her lesson in the show... it takes a post-show comic where she meets every other version of herself from various dimensions to realize she's being selfish! She needed a bit of 'bashing' to come to her senses.

Ok, my ranting aside the following will be in this fic:

Artemis Fowl

Ben 10

Eion Colfer's Artemis Fowl (I've read all the books)

Gravity Falls (obviously)

Star vs. The Forces of Evil

Steven Universe

Also, I'll be including technological elements from the following:

Bioshock

Mass Effect

Prey (2017)

Now anyone who knows me knows I'm a harem fic writer. To stop the million and one PM's I'm bound to get asking who's in the harem this the list is of who's in it. However, unlike usual this will be a slowburn harem or as slowburn as I can make it. Anyway here's the list:

The harem:

Adventure Time:

Marceline the Vampire Queen

Artemis Fowl:

Holly Short

Ben 10: Ultimate Alien

Gwen Tennyson

Bioshock:

Elizabeth Dewitt

Danny Phantom:

Jazz

Gravity Falls:

Wendy Corduroy

Pacifica Northwest

Star vs the Forces of Evil:

Star Butterfly

Steven Universe:

Lapis Lazuli

Right that should about cover everything. Sorry for the long authors note everyone but I thought it would be prudent to get everything out in the open right away. Thanks for putting up with my mad rambling. Till next time, whenever that happens to be… Bubbajack out Peace!