From Blarb (Guest): "Hey, I was wondering, if when you have the time, to write about why Gruncle Stan was outside at night? (as in the time near the end of carpet diem?) I am kind curious, and would love to know what mysterious thing he was up to. Ps: I LOVE YOUR FANFICS!"

Thank you, I'm glad you're enjoying them! That end bit still makes me curious about why he was there too, actually...

For Reasons Unclear

This was stupid. This was one of the main rules he had set in stone for the twins, something he had reminded Dipper of countless times - and yet here he was wandering towards the woods. Even worse, he was only wearing a coat on over his wife-beater and boxers so it was fairly chilly.

Not one of my best ideas, Stan conceded with a heavy sigh.

There was a sudden crash and he whipped around in shock, unsure what the source of the sound was. He found out a moment later when something hard hit him on the forehead. "Why am I even out here at night?!" he complained out loud more to himself than anything.

Rubbing his forehead, he bent down and picked up the projectile. A golf ball? Were the kids still up? A glance at the triangular window showed a hole where the ball had soared through and he shook his head wearily. He'd have to get Soos to fix that tomorrow morning.

Turning away and heading into the woods (a bit more cautiously, now that he knew the twins weren't asleep) he felt a melancholy smile twitch upon his lips. It had been so long since Stan had ventured into the forest. The only memories he held involved the dangerous creatures lurking about in the trees, but he realized that he'd missed these woods. It was unusually quiet here, strangely peaceful compared to the busyness of the Mystery Shack on a daily basis. The moonlight peeking through the leaves gifted the trees with a faint glow and he breathed in deeply, an uncharacteristic calm settling over his heart.

His hands slipped into his coat pocket and gripped the object hidden there, memories returning unbidden to his head. He should have hidden that room better; why was it always the handyman who discovered the hidden rooms in the Shack? There were too many bad things that could have gone wrong in there, things better left alone. Of course now that he'd gotten rid of that carpet and all of the junk there before, Dipper had taken the room as his own. He couldn't blame the kid, to be honest (he knew the trouble of rooming with someone who could be both endearing or exasperating). Thankfully the curious boy hadn't asked what the room used to be or about that darn carpet.

Stan glanced back at the Shack, rubbing the spot where that golf ball had hit him unconsciously. Those two were too nosy and stubborn for their own good, and he was growing a little concerned about them. He only hoped that they had more sense than he had at age twelve, and would not go looking for trouble.

He gripped the object in his pocket tighter and stopped walking after another minute. He stared up at the bright crescent moon, wondering how everything had gone so wrong so long ago. Now he couldn't even get that portal to work without the other journals - one of which he knew where it was but couldn't get it, and the other lost beyond hope - and every day felt like a failure.

Withdrawing the glasses from in side his coat pocket, Stan bowed his head and just turned them over in his hands. So many secrets he didn't want to bring up from long ago, so many bad memories that he had struggled to forget...

"I'm sorry," he mumbled under his breath. He was alone in the woods and no one could hear him, but he felt as if he had to whisper. "I didn't mean for everything to turn out like this, I really didn't."

The glasses seemed to mock him. The silence, which had seemed pleasant not too long ago, was slowly growing stifling.

"You'd probably know what to do if you were here. You'd know how to fix that darn thing, wouldn't you?"

Too bad you can't.

Stan flinched at that thought. No, he wasn't going to go down that path. No more reminiscing. That only led to depression, and he had barely survived that the last time.

"But... I really need your help. Things have changed. I have to protect these two kids for a summer, and... well, let's just say that I'm not doing a quality job so far. I'm not good with children and they're both too curious for their own good. This town will destroy them if they dig deeper into these mysteries. What do I do...?"

There wasn't a reply but Stan truly wished there was.

He sighed and stared down at the glasses, kneeling and clawing at the dirt to dig a shallow hole. Burying the glasses wasn't as simple as he thought, just like forgetting everything that had occurred all those decades ago. The old con man ended up marking the dirt mound with a few sticks he buried around it in a circle. That way he could find them again, if the need ever arose.

The portal could wait tonight. It wasn't as if he would be getting any work done without the other journals anyways.

"I'm going to find you. I promise I will."

Short one, sorry. I don't think Stan would want to linger there for too long, though - what with all those memories and all. I may or may not have added in the Stanley Twin theory hints...

Thank you to everybody who has responded about my story idea! I've received a ton of encouragement so I think that I might give it a go once things settle down. I just want to plan it out and be able to update it without procrastinating for once, so it may be a bit before I actually post it (but I will let you know when I absolutely will!). Thank you again!

I promise I am working on your requests; if I haven't gotten to you yet, it is only because I am going in order of who posted their request first. I have about four to go, but I am planning on knocking another one out later tonight so keep a watchful eye!