Disclaimer: I don't own Gravity Falls!
Title: March On, Or the Fear Wins
Summary: Time goes on, even when friends are apart. The Mystery Shack ends up becoming Wendy's pet project as she helps her friends through the seasons.
Chapter Title: Spring
(The season of fevers and anxious boredom.)
...
gamelover41592- As do I. =)
ilya39- I try. =)
Stormnormin- Actually, just the opposite. The circle was completed, if only for a moment. It just wasn't used. Storm clouds gathered; people glowed strange colors, but nothing happens. Where did the energy go?
Guest (March 6)- Manly Dan is best dad, as far as I'm concerned.
Guest (March 6)- Indeed. One of my favorite things about the dipwendy arc is that, unlike other shows, Wendy is an honestly lovable character. Usually they make the protagonist's crush someone nasty and mean, but I can't blame anyone for wanting to date Wendy. She's seriously awesome.
Ems-Shadows- Thanks! It's my favorite too; good to stretch my supernatural legs, so to speak. Also, I need more practice with action scenes.
EmPro8- Thanks!
...
The scar from her run-in with the leprechaun's becomes a sort of local legend. Wendy, being a Corduroy, has never been ashamed of getting hit by a little man on a magical horse, and gossip had immediately started flying around once the line peeking out from her waistband showed up.
It pokes up now, even, the sharp blade of her axe hanging ironically to the side of it.
"Forget spring fever. We've all got twin fever."
Tambry, thumbs skimming expertly over the buttons on her phone, gave a shallow nod. "People are seriously freaking out."
Wendy stretches her legs out as they walked. Trees lined the sides of the road, ripe for chopping. Her father had predicted a good year for the lumberjacks of Gravity Falls, and he certainly wasn't wrong. Now all they had to do was wait for the money to flow in. "I get it. I do. I'm just as pumped. But, for pete's sake, we've got months yet."
"It'll be nice to have them back. This town gets boring fast when no one's plotting world domination, or whatever." She hums. "What about you? How're you feeling? Insert other mushy sentiments that show I care here."
"Tired." Wendy replies, honest. Her shoulders sag. "I've been working my butt off to keep up with orders."
Not a total lie. The people of Gravity Falls are a naturally clunky bunch, breaking this and that, and so the Corduroy family will never run out of work. But it's more than that. Most of her money- and her energy- is going to the Mystery Shack, from helping Soos set up the lifelike statue of Stan, to pulling out walls to properly rewire the old electricity lines so no one catches on fire. It's exhausting, and more things pop up by the day. If it weren't for the anxiety and fear rolling off Soos's line and into her (whether she likes it or not, he immediately turns to her when things get tough, even subconsciously), she might've thrown her hands into the air and given up by now.
(Except that she's a Corduroy, and Corduroy's don't know how to give up.)
"Having a job must suck." Is her only reply.
She raises an eyebrow. "Tambry, you have a job."
"Yeah. But you, like, leave your job to go home, where you have another job. That's just too much work, man." The girl pauses. "That's not what I meant, either."
"It's not?"
"Yeah. I mean, like, emotionally? Since you're all synced up, or whatever."
The fact that Tambry knows this doesn't really surprise her, considering she's her best friend, as well as Robbie's girlfriend. Someone was bound to let it slip eventually. Heck, it wouldn't surprise her if the whole town knows, because Mabel isn't one to keep these sorts of things to herself, and, likewise, neither are Candy and Grenda.
(Well, she can't really see her telling anyone in California, but here? Tell all of the people here.)
Wendy reaches up to massage her brow, feeling her age before she's even really old. "Like I said; twin fever. Everybody's excited. Everybody. It's overlapping my own vibes. I can't even help them chill; too much all at once."
"Not gonna lie, that sounds like the worst thing ever." Tambry spares her a concerned glance over the phone. "Can't you, like, cut the connection?"
Wendy bit her lip. Logically speaking, there's probably a form of magic out there that can cut the rope, so the speak. But this is her only lasting way to see into the health and wellbeing of the kids and the Stans. Like, honestly. You can't really lie with your emotions, and in every other aspect those people love to lie to keep themselves separated and others happy.
She shrugs. "I dunno."
"Does it ever hurt?"
"Gives me a headache, sometimes." Someone will pop into her head space just as she's about to tip over, in a sense, leading to the odd afternoon spent curled up in bed with dark chocolate. Otherwise, it's fairly harmless. "Sharing the odd dream or memory is kinda weird, but it doesn't hurt or anything."
"Memories? Like what?"
"Uh..." Wendy focuses a second to see if anything's floating around, then finds herself laughing. "Dipper got into a fist fight with Stan. Dude got his butt kicked and got knocked out. Hit a table with his face. He's totally got a scar on his cheek now." She reins herself in with some difficulty. "Stan's proud of 'em, even if he is an idiot."
"Dude." Tambry chuckles, and Wendy feels relieved that the topic has shifted from her. "They're all such dorks."
"Soos, we don't even know where they'll want to stay. Chill."
"That is true." The older man squints at a crack in the wood floor, trying to decide if it's serious enough to be a fix, before moving on. "But it's not like they got a lot of options."
"McGucket's mansion?" She states flatly.
"Alright, you got me there. But Mr. Pines lived here for years, and Mr. Pines's old lab is here."
"...Touche." Wendy concedes defeat with a shrug, hammering in a board with ease. "We should probably fix that place up, now that I think about it."
"I'm kinda scared to go down there, you know? Mr. Pines may say he cleared it out, but anybody can goof up. There might be, like, a face-melting rat or somethin'."
"That," Wendy drawls. "Would be awesome."
Soos chuckles. "I know, right?"
"So, next week, then? I'll bring the armor and some extra weapons."
"Sounds like a deal, dude."
Wendy lets him continue his inspection for awhile, fooling him into believing she can't detect the man-child angst under the swarm of fake-happy emotions. Things have been stressful for him, and they both know he needs a break. This sudden ramp-up of fixing is only going to make things worse.
She leans against the wall, arms crossed. "Alright, so what's the real issue here?"
Her new boss- it's weird to consider him as such, seeing how they've been buddies and co-workers for a long time now- jerks his head up with a grunt of irritation. "Man. This whole not lying thing sucks." He whines.
"It's no picnic for me either." The fact that her private stress is now on display for a group of people to wade through at any time is far from fun. "But I don't need the link to tell. It's kinda obvious something's on your mind."
He sighed, slumping a tad. "You think Mr. Pines'll be proud of me? I tried so hard, but he's the master of this stuff. I just... wanna make 'em happy."
"Dude. You fought a herd of leprechauns. You stole a chest of gold."
"Blackmailed." Soos corrects, almost without thought.
"Whatever. All you're missing is a serial number and a rigged game of cards and you'll be totally on his level."
"You think so?"
"Know so." Wendy sinks down on the floor next to him. "We've had an awesome year for the Shack. We illegally employed thirteen-year old kids to guard the place. We gave them weapons. Stan wouldn't have done it any other way, 'xcept we did it better." She pumped a fist in emphasis.
"Heh heh. Yeah. You got a point there, dawg." The beginnings of a smile peeked its way into existence. "And this place looks better than ever!"
"Totally. And, hey. It's not all about them. You've got a good career ahead of you, and this year proves it. You'll be rocking this joint 'till the day you die."
"Definitely." He crows, a bit more sure of himself now. "The Corduroy's will definitely always be my first stop when I need something fixed, that's for sure."
"Best place in town." Wendy hums, getting to her feet. "The kids'll be begging to work here."
All at once, his face falls. Soos draws imaginary pictures in imaginary dust. "You don't think they'll think I'm trying to replace him, do you?"
"Huh?"
"Well, look at me. Same suit; same Shack. Same legally ambiguous way of runnin' things, although to a lesser extent."
"We really have cinched up our collars, haven't we?" Wendy says, an eyebrow quirked. "We'd pass a health inspection now and everything. Well, maybe."
"Sometimes I kinda feel like a creep, you know? Like I'm tryin' to replace him. Sometimes, I don't. I just don't want those dudes to see me like that."
"Considering you've never been arrested in a foreign country, never tried to smuggle pugs across a border, and never kept a thirty year long secret involving a portal and a twin, I think you're fine." She narrows her eyes at him. "Wait. You're not keeping a thirty year long secret involving a twin, are you? Because I deserve to know of such things."
"Nah, dude. No twins. I promise." Soos paused. "Well, most of my family looks alike, but no blood twins. Pinkie swear."
Wendy holds out her little finger. Soos takes it with his own.
"I'll hold you to it, then."
If someone had told her a year or two ago that she would be spending a day of her Spring Break making flower crowns with Pacifica Northwest, she probably would've laughed in your face. Or decked you. She was having some temper issues between her late middle school-early high school days, so it's an good chance of either.
Alright, alright. She should probably back up a bit.
Pacifica, composed of a wonderful mixture of family issues, angst, and pride, is impossible to miss. Wendy had noticed, with some amusement, that the girl had quickly learned to take as much pride in being 'poor'- let's be real here; middle class, if that- as she did in being rich. Wendy gave her her props for that.
Still, it wasn't normal for her to come tip-toeing through the Mystery Shack. It was even less normal for her to actually be perusing the shelves, instead of disappearing with Candy and Grenda in the back for makeovers.
Whoops. Did she say that out loud? Ssh. She's been sworn to secrecy, so don't tell anybody.
Anywho, it's kind of her job to see if customer's need help, you know? So she doesn't really have an option.
She shoves her hands in her pockets as she shambles over. "What's up?"
Pacifica shuffles her feet, looking vaguely ashamed. "Uh, well..." She sighs. "Look. My parent's anniversary is coming up. Do you have anything shiny?"
She pulls out a handful of dollar bills sheepishly. "And, like, cheap, but not cheap looking?"
Wendy squints at the girl. "Don't you have an allowance, kid?" Because she has a job; cleaning McGucket's home as a maid, ironically enough.
It was also no secret that her family's new business's success was largely due to her. Customers spoke freely about how, instead of meeting the owner himself, they were sent to his daughter, as he was still squeamish around common folk. Rumors speculated that the girl was in charge of a large part- if not all- of Preston Northwest's money books, and could copy his signature with ease.
Wendy knows it to be fact. She also knows why she had taught herself such things. The fact that such precautions to keep her safe with her own family is downright sad, but it's good to see the girl step up and totally own it.
(Wendy understood the pressure of handling money. Her dad has a habit of rushing to the hospital- either in the bed or beside it- once every few years, and someone has to take charge while he was gone.)
"Of course I do." She lifts her chin slightly, shoving the money into her pockets once again. "But it's not really a gift if the person you're giving it to is paying for it, right?"
Touche. "There's not really a whole lot of gift stuff, to be honest. Soos is working on that. Unless your folks like taxidermy animals. Then they'll have a blast."
Pacifica wrinkles her nose. "Does anybody like that sort of thing?"
"You'd be surprised." She replies wryly. "Hey, why don't you just make them something?"
Her face goes blank. It's not the kind of blank Wendy sees her do when her father is chattering on about things she doesn't agree with; it's honest confusion.
"People... do that?" Pacifica slowly asks.
"Duh. It's, like, kid 101." Wendy can remember the cheesy arts and crafts cards just as vividly as she remembers chopping down her first tree.
"Common families are weird." Is her only reply, but she feels the longing under the disdain. How she'd wanted to say 'normal' instead of 'common.'
"Alright, let's try something easy. Your folks like flowers?"
Pacifica's tongue sticks out in what some might call a shameless display as she threads flower stems together. "You know, I never imagined you, of all people, doing something like this."
"Oh, yeah?" Wendy raises an eyebrow, passively examining the ring of wildflowers. "How so?"
"You're a lumberjack. You know, buff tree-choppers. Not to mention you grew up with just your dad and brothers."
Wendy snorts out a laugh. Pacifica's face flushes with indignation and embarrassment. "What? He's called Manly Dan for a reason!"
She contains herself a bit, still smiling. "Sure, he's manly. He could beat the crud out of a wall and arm wrestle a tank while he's at it, but I'll be darned if he didn't play princesses with me and teach me to sew and bake and all that junk. Just goes to show how manly he really is."
"I... can't imagine you doing any of that either, honestly."
"Eh." She hums passively. "I'm better at bandaging cuts than I am at baking a pie, but hey. It's the thought that counts."
Eventually she stands up and brushes the spare lawn clippings off her pants. They'd been in the weeds next to the Mystery Shack, taking advantage of her break to get down and dirty. Well, as close to it as you get, sitting next to a primadonna and messing with flowers.
Pacifica bites her lip and carefully picks the bundles up. "Thanks, I guess." She pauses. "Can you... tell how they are?"
"Can't you?" She asks. Pacifica shrugs.
"Sort of? My link isn't quite as strong as yours, you know? I think it's your age, maybe? Or just how you affect the lines personally?" She shook herself. "Something feels off, is all."
It should. They're in the hospital; something about a collapsed building, during a unfortunate anomaly hunt.
This news came to her, not by the link, but via the wonders of coded letters. They're fine, just a pulled shoulder and cracked bone individually, but the discomfort was like a muscle twinge; it's always there, and you can't quite forget about it.
"They'll be okay." She finds herself saying. "They're just as bored as the rest of us, is all."
Wendy feels the blow to the pride like it's a blow to her face, and finds Pacifica waiting for her after work the next day, head down.
"Mom and dad... didn't appreciate the presents. They said something about how they weren't 'real' flowers and... disposed of them."
The memory of them crinkling under the force of a stove flame in the early hours of the morning- after they thought she was in bed, after they thought she was oblivious, after they thought- flashes between them. Pacifica's shoulders jerk, then slope downwards slightly, watching her reaction through lidded eyes.
Wendy lets soothing memories float between them, specifically of Manly Dan's roar that no one would ever not be welcome in his home, especially if they don't have anywhere else to go. (This coming on after a conversation concerning the girl in question and social services sniffing around, but that was a long time ago, and nothing came out of it, so she doesn't add it to the lines and tone of the comfort.) "Flower snobs, eh? Well, alrighty then. Let's make them some flower bouquets."
The blonde hesitates. "They won't accept the things we were using before."
"Yeah, I know. There's a place I know with 'real' flowers." She bunny-ears the word. "It's just too far for me to hike on my break."
Wendy shows her to a plain of flowers, then shows her how to grab a bundle and tie it off with the stems.
"Did you dad show you this place?" She feels her reaching, eagerly searching for an embarrassing moment, or anything at all, really, but she gives her own line a choking death grip. Nope. Not happening. If she wants childhood memories and trauma, she can ask it to her face.
(She's still trying to figure out the hows and whys, she forcibly reminds herself. She's not trying to be rude.)
"Sort of." She shrugs. "This is just one of those places you never not know about."
Pacifica, arms full of flowers, glances around the surrounding trees. "It's weird to find a place so... open."
"That's what happens when you overwork the land." She pats her axe in a silent reminder. "Everything used to be woodland in these parts, but then all the lumber folk gotta hold of it."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Most of the old structures 'round here came from the end of a Corduroy's axe. We're one of the few lumber families still around."
"Huh." Pacifica ties a few yellow flower's together before pausing. "Wendy?"
"Yup?"
"Has your family always been a lumber family?"
"Yup." Wendy picked a couple of white ones thoughtfully. "Well, not all of us, obviously. We've had a couple of tailors, one or two writers, the like. One guy- he was a stunt double? Or was it an actor? Maybe both? But, yeah. Most of us end up becoming lumberjacks. We have more wood in our blood than we do brains, I think."
"Cool. Most of my family ends up in the mudflap business, so... I get it, I guess?" She nods to the looming house on the hill. A mish-mash of unfortunate memories stir within her, going through the line and into her before she can rein them in. Pacifica doesn't acknowledge that they've been passed through. "Did you family help build the Manor?"
Wendy whistles lowly. "Yeah. It's ironic, though."
"What is?"
"My great-grandfather, I think it was?" She pauses in thought, then shrugs. "He fell on his axe. A lumberjack, killed by his own tool."
Pacifica jerks a bit, wide-eyed. "But that guy wasn't a ginger!"
She blinks at the girl owlishly. "Nah. That came from my great-grandma's side. You've heard of it?"
She bit her lip and nodded. "There's some records. And... his ghost, kinda... haunted us? Just a little bit. Dipper fixed it."
Images flash between them once again, with mixed emotions. Wendy blinks and stares at the ground, flabbergasted. She knew her line in this town went far back. It was another thing to have visible proof of it.
"Huh." Wendy shrugs off an interest in prying and gathers a few more stems. "It's like they always say, I guess. Don't mess with a Corduroy."
Author's Note: To be perfectly honest, I fully expected a lot of mixed results with me shoving the headcanon into the story. I'm glad you all seem to like it! Pacifica, having spent most of her life masking certain emotions, is a tad less attached to the soul bonds, so it takes more for her to do and see things than it does, say, Mabel.
Yes, another headcanon. This one is slightly logical, though. One hundred fifty years is only, what, two or three generations? Maybe four?
Whelp, we've only got the epilogue left, and I'm sure you can guess what it is; summer. Don't worry, I'll still be around. I'm planning on maybe making a drabble series with Tyler/Dan, with Tyler trying to find his place in the Corduroy family. If that doesn't happen, then I'll pop up again eventually. I don't know when to leave fandoms well enough alone. =)
-Mandaree1