something to write home about

Mabel loves the Christmas season. It's the one time of the year when the world aligns with her taste in everything: More sweaters, more glitter, more lights, more cookies, and more cheer!

Of course, Christmas is still weeks away, but that won't stop her from embracing the spirit.

"Oh, Christmas hog, oh, Christmas hog! You are so plump and shiny!" she sings as she wraps Waddles' torso in tinsel.

Her parents have been a bit slow to take to Waddles ("Couldn't you have brought back a dog?" her mother had asked plaintively), and it remains unclear if Alameda County even allows pigs to be kept as pets. Mabel isn't too worried because she's pretty sure she's seen someone with a pot-bellied pig before and is definitely not making that memory up. Waddles is already house trained, though, which has helped smooth things over quite a bit. He's never been an outdoor pig, much to Grunkle Stan's disgust. But if Waddles can win over Grunkle Stan (he punched a pterodactyl in the face to save Waddles!), then Waddles can win over anyone. Mom and Dad will come around eventually.

"How could they not?" she says out loud, pressing her nose to Waddles' snout. "You're so porkin' adorable!"

She's distracted from her task of making Waddles beautiful when her phone makes the chime of a new message. She hurries over to her desk to see who it is, picking up her thoroughly bezazzled Shimmery Twinkleheart phone case and swiping the background photo of a carsick Dipper to unlock it.

Soos: hey hambone just a heds up but I think your supposd to check your mail to day

Mabel immediately checks her email, but there's nothing but a few notifications. She frowns, disappointed. What was Soos— WAIT HE MEANT OLD PERSON PAPER MAIL.

Mabel flies down the stairs to where she knows her parents pile the morning mail on the table and usually don't sort through it until after dinner. It's mostly a mess of bills and flyers, but underneath a bunch of coupons for Big Big Beef is a yellow package. The return address is for Honningsvåg, Norway.

"So exotic," Mabel breathes. She presses the package close to her face, sniffing it. "It smells like Norway," she decides. Norway probably smells like paper.

She scurries back up to her room and leaps onto her bed. Waddles follows her, sensing her excitement (and maybe the possibility of paper scraps to chew on). She pauses just long enough to text Soos back and then eagerly tears open the top edge of the package and reaches inside. She finds a thick sheaf of paper bound together with a rubber band. There are two distinct envelopes. One has her name on it, the other is for Dipper. Dipper's is where most of the thickness comes from and Mabel guesses that must be from Grunkle Ford. Probably a lot of nerd stuff.

Dipper is out playing video games at someone or the other's house, so she'll have to wait to hear what he got. Well, that just means she'll have to stretch hers out a little longer. She settles back onto her pillow and neatly bisects the top of her envelope with her nail, trying to emulate a trick she's seen Mom do. Problem is, her mom has longer nails.

"Ow ow ow paper cut!" Mabel hisses, sticking her thumb into her mouth. "Why would you do that? I just want to read you!"

Her letter is from Grunkle Stan. It's typically gruff and to the point and makes Mabel smile until her cheeks hurt.

Ford's been talking about that internet mail malarkey but I told him we'd just do this the old fashioned way before we head out again. I hear you made Dipper another journal. Did you hit your head on the way home or something? The last thing that kid needs is that kind of encouragement. He's probably out looking for Nazi gold or some garbage right now, thanks to you. You tell him I said if the apocalypse wasn't enough weird for him then he's as crazy as Ford is.

But look who's talking, right? I'm in Norway about to go hunting for something weird myself. Guess I never did learn. Anyways, Soos says the Shack is doing well, though you already know that, seeing as you probably hear more from him than I can right now. Which is good, because the last thing I need is him yapping at me over the phone. Finally getting some peace and quiet out here and all I had to do was go out to the middle of the freezing ocean. We haven't found anything as weird as what's back home yet but judging by how hard Ford's been staring at his gizmos it's just a matter of time.

I hope you're keeping yourself out of trouble. And if not, then I hope you're destroying the evidence like I taught you. I don't want to get any angry letters from your parents, so don't do anything that isn't deniable. And don't ever talk to the cops. Ford just read this over my shoulder and he's giving me dirty looks now. Don't talk to him, either.

I know you and Dipper will share your letters, since you two are so unnaturally close and all. So Dipper, staying out of trouble goes twice for you, because I ain't around to club any zombies if you decide to recite anything without paying attention. I know you got a passion for this stuff, kid, but cut an old man some slack and try not to give me a heart attack. Besides, you think your parents are going to take it as well as me if you drag some kind of Elder God spawn back to their nice little place in the suburbs? Just be smart and be careful. I know you got a problem with that second part.

Tell Waddles I said hi, and that I wish he was here because I haven't had fresh bacon in months.

-Stan

"Psshht. He loves you," Mabel says to Waddles.

For a moment, Mabel wishes she were on a boat to parts unknown, sailing towards adventure. Dipper isn't the only one who craves a little more excitement around Piedmont. What Mabel wants even more, though, is to see her two Grunkles working together, reforging the bond they'd broken so many years ago. Her heart swells at the thought. Thirty years apart, and they were finally becoming brothers again. It just makes her so happy!

And Mabel and Dipper are good, too, so it's even better. Dipper got a little stupid for a while after they came back, but she forgives him. The Mystery Twins can never be stopped!

"Can't stop, won't stop!" Mabel declares, grabbing Waddles' front hooves and doing a little dance on her knees with him.

He's mostly shed his tinsel wrapping and it's all over her bed and floor, which just won't do. So, while she's waiting for Dipper to get back, she grabs the camera from his closet and starts filming Mabel's Guide to Decorating Your Christmas Hog. A little specific, but 'tis the season!

When Dipper finally gets home, she's waiting for him in the living room with his letter in her hands and a big grin on her face.

"Guess what, Dipper?" she says, holding the letter behind her back with anticipatory glee.

He eyes her warily as he takes off his jacket and puts it in the closet. "Mabel, did you eat a jar of marshmallow fluff again?"

"That's right, we got letters!" She thrusts it forward and waves it in his face. "From Norway!"

"Norway? Wait, is this from Great-Uncle Ford?!" And just like that, he's almost as excited as she is. "It is! He must have answered my questions!" He snatches it out of her hand and holds it like it's made of something precious.

"Op-en it! Op-en it!" Mabel chants.

Dipper glances towards the kitchen, where Dad has started dinner. "Not here."

Navigating Dipper's room requires kicking laundry out of the way. Mabel boots a pair of jeans towards his unused hamper while he jumps into his desk chair, skidding across the plastic floor mat and tearing at his envelope. The first piece of paper he pulls out looks like regular correspondence, but there are about six or seven additional pages that are absolutely covered in scribbles.

Mabel runs over to the chair, wraps her arms around Dipper's neck and reads over his shoulder.

Dear Dipper,

I hope this letter finds you well in Piedmont. It's been a very long time since I've been to California, and I should like to visit it again someday. Perhaps Stan and I could come see you in the future? We can't make plans now, of course, but I'm certain my work will take me back to Gravity Falls once we've settled things out here. I wish you could see some of the dimensional distortions I've already cataloged—truly fascinating anomalies! My equipment has proven somewhat unreliable under such harsh ocean conditions, but I'm confident I'll be able to adapt it given a little more time. I often find myself wishing you were here to offer some suggestions. Your insight would be appreciated, and it would have been an excellent chance to develop your intellect further. However, I understand your place is with your parents for the time being. I've had a few talks with Stanley about it, and as much as it pains me to admit, I'm not sure my original offer of apprenticeship would have been what's best for you. My eagerness to once again connect with another mind led me to jump the gun. Truth be told, I had other motivations which were far from altruistic. I still believe you have a bright future in the pursuit of science, Dipper. But perhaps that's no reason to rush your childhood. I know that you and Mabel intend to be there for each other, no matter what. I wish Stanley and I had done things your way, but we're doing our best to make up for lost time.

Regarding your concerns about possible ghost sightings, I've done my best to recreate my original notes on the subject. I'm afraid my memory isn't perfect, but I think I've recorded all the most pertinent information on the distinct categories of apparitions. I am somewhat surprised that you asked, given your current location. Paranormal activity is not impossible in Piedmont, of course, but I hope you understand that it is unlikely. Don't let it discourage you if you can't find anything concrete. I wasted considerable effort on wild goose chases before I found Gravity Falls. There are plenty of anomalies out there, but it's rare for them to be concentrated enough to easily discover.

I assume public schools haven't changed all that much since I attended, so I'm sure your classes offer little for someone of your acumen. Still, I urge you to put forward the effort and do your best. I managed to fulfill my ambition despite not gaining admission to my college of choice, but I will always regret losing out on that experience. Don't let your eagerness to get into the field stall your education. If you concentrate on your studies, I don't see any reason why you couldn't attend West Coast Tech someday!

Now, when it comes to contacting me, electronic mail will be your best bet. Unfortunately, I can't guarantee any timely responses, considering the nature of this endeavor. Just know that I will do my best to reply whenever a connection is possible. Digital technology developed at a fantastic pace while I was gone, but there are still some substantial limits, I see! I've heard it's possible to communicate via satellite at these latitudes. Perhaps I'll look into that at some point down the road. For now, it's back to the search!

Stanley is telling me that Mabel will read this letter as well. Mabel, I've borrowed the remainder of the unicorn hair you recovered to create a defensive shield for the Stan o' War II. I thought you should know that your efforts are still protecting your family. I'm wearing one of the sweaters you gave me right now! It's practical in these climes, yet also fashionable. I hope you and Waddles are both doing well. Also, my advice to Dipper regarding schoolwork and studies applies equally to you, young lady. You are capable of great things.

With love,

Great-Uncle Ford

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Mabel lets out a high-pitched noise of happiness and squeezes Dipper's neck until his eyes begin to bulge. "They're getting along and they love us, Dipper!"

"Mabel," he chokes, tugging at her elbows.

She releases him and rushes back to her room to grab her letter. She returns and hands it to him eagerly. "Now you read mine!"

Together, they huddle over the letter, sharing in its warmth.