Hey guys! I'm sorry for the wait. I had lots of stuff going on and my laptop died. So I sorta have to do everything on my phone for now. Unless I can borrow a laptop from time to time. Then it'll go much smoother. I might have another GF fic brewing in my head but I'm not sure about it. It's... different. But we'll see. Hopefully I can start releasing regularly. I'm just a jerk though. Got plenty of people who will harass me if I don't though. But anyways. Here's what you've been waiting for! Yay!
Also a shout out to LittleAmberAmethyst, movie time will more than likely be a thing. Or at least mentioned in the next chapter. But you'll have to wait and see. And thank you for both your reviews.
I own nothing! Alex Hirsch owns everything!
He was unaware of how much glitter Mabel could hide on her person. The sheer amount was mind blowing, it was like she had a small pocket dimension in her sweater. Bag upon bag was pulled out and Ford thought that maybe Stan had taught the girl about the five-finger-discount, but Mabel didn't seem the type to do that. Once all the art supplies were on the table, his grand niece looked up at him with big round eyes. He cleared his throat, "What would you like to start with?"
"Well I'm not allowed to use the heat gun without adult supervision, so I'll need your help!" large brown eyes sparkled in the light. A heat gun, she needed a heat gun? "It's in the gift shop! Grunkle Stan says I can't keep it in the main house. He's scared I might burn down the house," a bright wide grin was turned in his direction.
A sigh slipped past his lips, "Alright I suppose I'll go get the heat gun, but I agree with my brother on this. I'll be using it for whatever you need." A vigorous nod was the response he received from the young girl. He turned on his heel, exiting the kitchen, his mind whirling, why did they even own a heat gun? Did Stanley buy it for the girl for her art projects? Did they already own it for the sake of the Shack, to help seal the taxidermy parts together? Was it part of Soos' tools for keeping the shack in working order? There were endless possibilities, but he was snapped out of his train of thought when he walked into the gift shop.
"Hey Dr. P. what's up?" the red headed teen glanced up from her magazine for a moment before dipping her head back down. Her boots were up on the counter and she was tilted back on her chair, the angle making a look of concern flit across his face before it returned to its neutral look.
"I'm looking for the heat gun. With the tools, yes?" his movement was fluid across the shop towards the tool box.
Wendy watched him as he looked through the toolbox, "Naw man, it's here." The chair hit the floorboards with a scrape, sliding across the floor as she pushed back from the counter. From under the counter she pulled out the desired tool and held it out to him. "Careful, the ink will stain your clothes man."
"Ink?" now he was more confused.
"You'll see man," she shot him a smug grin when he took the tool from her.
He shrugged and returned to the main house through the staff only door. Once he returned to the kitchen his jaw dropped slightly. Jars of ink, pencils, markers, crayons, pencil crayons, paints and brushes littered the table, floor, and two of the chairs. "Grunkle Ford! You found it!" small arms wrapped around his free hand and dragged him further into the kitchen.
"Mabel my dear, what is all this?" completely baffled he glanced at all the supplies.
"Well you have some really good drawing skills, and I enjoy colouring! So could you maybe draw me some mythical creatures and I can colour them?" big soft brown eyes blinked up at him.
A chuckle escaped his lips, "Of course my dear, anything in particular you'd like?" He sat at the table and his niece sat beside him.
"MERMAIDS!" her hands slammed against the table.
This made laughter bubble out of his throat, "Of course my dear. But what will you do while I draw?"
She pulled out her knitting needles, "Knit my daily sweater of course!"
With a small nod he picked up a pencil and pulled out a slip of paper from the mass of supplies. The pencil danced across the paper to the sound of soft clicking. The image of a siren sitting on a rock surrounded by waves slowly spread across the page, her hair spilt in waves over her shoulders, the tail dipping beneath the waves. Once he was sure the image would suffice, he slid the image to his niece. "OH MY GOODNESS!" her pitch escalated and her knitting hit the ground. "It's perfect! I'll get started right away!"
A thick tipped black marker was pulled from the mountain of supplies, she slowly began to trace and darken the line work he just finished. He already had another sheet of paper and began working on the next image, an ice apparition he and Stanley ran into in the arctic. Occasionally he would glance up, a brush was in her hand, inks being brushed across the paper, colour flowing from her mind and onto the paper. He was amazed that she was so good at using the inks and brushes, using just the right amount of water to blend colours. Her art would take her far if she'd let it. As the inks dried he slipped the next image to her, her smile the only approval he needed to continue. This time she used pencil crayons, the soft blues and whites making the image feel warm even though the colours themselves were cold. Instead of starting the next image he just watched her work. She used a blue marker for the lines, and as she coloured in the face and hair of the apparition, he realized that even though he drew the image from memory the colours were all from her imagination. Her wonderful, weird imagination, that no amount of observation would ever be able to help him comprehend it.
Suddenly he remembered why he was spending time with the young girl, but she showed no signs of being sad. Hell the girl seemed as bubbly as normal, perhaps he should speak to her parents about her maybe moving here to live with him and Stanley, maybe that would help. It couldn't hurt to ask and try it out, Stanley would gladly take in both the kids, especially if it would help out their beloved Mabel.
"Living here would be nice Grunkle Ford, but it'd also be worse. The town is small and if Wendy is having trouble with the kids in high school, I'll be eaten alive," she had moved back to the siren image, checking to see in the inks were dry.
"How…?" he felt the frames of his glasses slid down his nose.
"Grunkle Stan said you think pretty loudly. I get what he was saying. It's like all the gears are screeching loudly. Plus I can see it on your face," her one shoulder shifted up in shrug.
He leaned heavily against his hand, she was far more observant then he was at the moment and that was slightly upsetting. "I just want to figure out how to help you my dear," he sighed.
"Then get the heat gun ready," Mabel had another brush in hand, a jar with opaque goop inside it in the other. He blinked at her, she completely ignored what he actually meant, and pulled him into her pace. He watched as she slowly spread the opaque goo onto parts of the siren image, she sprinkled glitter on top and he understood. It was a paste she was using that dried clear, an embossing technique. He plugged in the heat gun and waited for her to slide the paper to him. Once the image was in front of him he pointed the end of the heat gun towards the glitter and watched as it bonded to the paper. It was all so fascinating.
"Where did you learn this?" he glanced up to his niece who was smiling at him and swinging her legs under her chair.
"Craft book Stan got me for Christmas last year. I sell art online and at fairs. Dipdop draws and I colour, we split the profits," she shrugged. "Lots of people like the mermaids and unicorns and princesses, for a boy he can draw some pretty girly things. You're both really good at drawing," she smiled up at him her eyes shining in the light.
"I wouldn't sell yourself short Mabel. I remember the few drawings you left in the journal, I'm sure if you spent more time working and perfecting your techniques you wouldn't need Dipper to help you at all," he turned the gun off and tilted the paper, all the loose glitter sliding off.
"Yeah but if I did that he wouldn't have more money to buy pens to chew on, dork," she giggled slightly and took the picture from Ford to inspect it. "Perfect, I'll have to get a frame for it. Think Grunkle Stan will let me hang it in the living room?"
"I'm sure we could persuade him, if not I would love to have either piece in my study," he reached out a hand and ruffled her hair.
"Well I was planning on giving you the second one, I don't think I want to emboss it though. It looks nice like this," she held it up and he had to agree. Her use of crosshatching to shade the apparition and background was superb, on par with the technique he usually used.
"I would be more than happy with this one. Your art is really developing. I wouldn't be surprised if you became famous for it one day," he smiled at her.
Her soft shrug made him pause a moment, if she didn't want to go into art he shouldn't make her feel pressured. "I'm still not sure what I want to do. Dipper seems to be determined to actually get his own ghost hunting show," she smiled slightly and leaned on her hands. "Although I think he should check out the Corduroy's if he does. That place seemed crazy haunted when I looked through the journals before we tossed them," she giggled and swung her legs again.
"Yes that would be a good location. Although I wouldn't recommend it, even if he has dealt with a 'Category 11'" he air quoted, "that cabin is still nightmare fuel."
"True enough," she pushed back from the table. "What do you want to do for lunch? I figure I can clean up, and you can get lunch. Afterwards we can do science stuff, or what ever it is you want to do!" she smiled up at him.
"Hmm, how about I grab the Stanley Mobile, and we go out for lunch? I think Greasy's has some new things on their menu," he jabbed a thumb towards Stan's old car.
"That sounds good! Better go ask Grunkle Stan for the keys!" she laughed and grabbed an armful of supplies, minding the cord as she moved out of the kitchen.
He nodded and moved briskly to the porch door, he had heard Dipper and Stan out there earlier. Opening the door he stared in horror as Dipper attempted to pick the lock on a pair of handcuffs around his wrists. "Oh hey Poindexter, how was craft time? You didn't let her touch the heat gun right?" Stanley took a swig of his Pitt Cola.
"What are you teaching Dipper?!" he could barely contain his rage.
"Lock-picking! So I can take back things Mabel takes from me and stashes in her closet," Dipper smiled as the cuffs came loose.
Ford stared at the pair in disbelief before shaking his head, "Stanley, I would like to borrow the car to bring Mabel into town for lunch."
Stan put his hand into his pocket and pulled out the keys, "Just don't scratch her, she's still my baby."
"I wouldn't dream of it Stanley," he reached for the keys.
His wrist was held in a vice-grip, "If anyone sees that bruise, you're a dead man," Stan's voice was a vicious whisper. Ford was taken aback, never had his brother's voice been so full of anger directed at him before.
"Of course, I'll be careful, thank you Stan," he ripped his hand out of his brother's grip. He returned into the house to let Mabel know they could leave any time. He glanced into the kitchen, all the supplies were gone. The table had been wiped down, the floor swept, the only proof of their art time was the two images and the heat gone resting on the table. His niece took his free hand and he jumped slightly before composing himself, "Ready my dear?"
"Onwards! To the food!" she raised her free hand pointing in no particular direction and they laughed as they headed to the car.
So Ford and Mabel talked! And did Art! After lunch is it possible that they might do Science? Who knows! Stay tuned to find out! Love you all! Don't forget to R&R