#lemme just. go ahead and rectify that.

[riddlegecko]

Hey just so you know I'm very interested in your OCs and I'm constantly going 👀 at them when I see you post about them, but I never know what asks to send in so I just. Don't. Like the most I can muster is microwave noises as I slowly rotate them horizontally around in my brain but please know that those are every happy excited microwave noises :]

aaaaaaa tysm!! yeah i love my silly guys a whole lot, they make my brain go brrrrr. been very excited abt lysander especially, it's so fun having an absolute bastard oc who i wanna put in a box and shake around, i get the appeal now.

and yeah dw, i have trouble coming up with questions abt folks ocs sometimes too. it sucks that i don't see oc ask lists on my dash very often anymore, it feels like they stopped appearing on my dash the moment i started posting about my hf ocs in earnest.

[askthestans]

Ford, are you aware your brother has 10 guns hidden around the shack?

Stanley: Shh, don't let Poindexter overhear ya! He's gonna kill me if he finds out-

Stanford: *Walking into the room, preoccupied with a demonic owl chick of some sort that's currently sleeping in his hair.* Ah, Stan, I see you're answering another ask from our blog. What's this one about?

Stanley: N-nothin'! *Switches to another internet tab quick.* Nothin' at all, don't worry about it, it's a question for me. Totally boring.

Stanford: Oh, really? *Raises brow.* Then why did the question start with 'Ford'? You know, my name?

Stanley: Uh...

*Stan glances around and starts to sweat bullets. How best to distract Ford? Then Stan grins. He knows just the trick.*

Stanley: Ya know... a more important question to ask, is... is the Patterson-Gimlin film legit?

Stanford: *A very intense, serious expression carves through his face. It's the face of a man with a strong opinion and just the right amount of ire to defend it, perhaps fueled by years of arguments over this very same exact question; a look akin to what someone on Twitter pulls right before they decide compassion and humanity is overrated, and being right is more important as they begin to rage-smash their keyboard.* Stan, I'm glad you asked. Because I think you're smart enough - and spent enough years as a conman - to know the difference between something real and something faked. The Patterson film is real, and I, Dr. Stanford Filbrick Pines, the world's greatest paranormal scientist and cryptozoologist, will die on this hill.

Stanley: Yes, exactly! *Stan looks relieved that the distraction worked.* Of course I agree. I mean, why wouldn't I? You tell 'em, Ford! Tell the world how legit the Patterson film is. Preferably in a different room than this one with your, uh... *Stan looks at the demonic owl chick sleeping in Ford's hair.* Whatever that is.

Stanford: *Smugly petting said demonic owl chick.* Hm, a better idea would be to utilize our ask blog to educate the populace on supernatural concepts such as this. I always wanted a platform to extend my knowledge to the world. I mean, teaching math to a whale was impressive enough, but imagine the paranormal knowledge I could spread with the power of the internet! *He chuckles.* Bill Nye and Neil DeGrasse Tyson better watch out, because a new popular scientist in media is in town. Stan, for the sake of knowledge, I'm going to need you to let me borrow our blog laptop for the afternoon.

Stanley: *Sweating bullets again.* W-what!? Not right now, Ford! You can have it later when I'm done with this one question. Just... gimme a little bit longer-

Stanford: Science cannot wait, Stanley. Hand it over.

Stanley: Alright, fine! Just lemme type somethin' quick and- h-hey!

Stanford: *Ford takes the laptop away from Stan and starts walking off with it.* Great, you already have the ask blog up. Time to...

*Ford sees the question about the ten guns in the Shack. He pauses.*

Stanley: Ford! Ford, I can explain... just let me... just hand the laptop back over and we can forget-

Stanford: *His voice cold.* Ten guns, Stan? Ten of them?

Stanley: It's... it's not what you think!

Stanford: Stan, you do know Dipper and Mabel live here in the summers, right? And you're telling me that you have ten guns around the Shack?

Stanley: Ford, just... *His expression turns defiant and mad.* Yeah, you know what? I've got ten guns! What of it!? Go ahead and judge me, Poindexter! You've always been good at that, haven't ya!?

Stanford: *Eyes narrowing.* Oh, I'm judging you, all right. Stan, I'm sorry, but I have no choice other than to host an emergency family meeting. We need to discuss this with Dipper and Mabel immediately. They must know about this. And then we can rectify this dangerous matter.

Stanley: Ford, really, it's fine, we don't need-

Stanford: *His voice ringing through the whole Shack.* Family meeting! Family meeting!

Three hours later...

*Stan, Ford, Dipper, Mabel are in the living room of the Shack at the dining table, where they usually host their family meetings. Stan looks more pissed than he has all day, Dipper looks nervous and confused, Mabel looks excited, and Ford is standing up by a chalkboard on wheels, multiple rules written on it, and he looks quite pleased.*

Stanford: Now, one final time, let's repeat the Pines family gun rules before this meeting comes to an end.

Stanley: Sweet Moses, Ford, isn't this overkill?

Mabel: Don't listen to Grunkle Stan! I am 1000% on board with all of these rules. *She pets the demonic owl chick that was sleeping in Ford's hair earlier and gives it a cheese flavored chip to eat.* Nice job, Grunkle Ford!

Dipper: I think Grunkle Stan has a point, though. Grunkle Ford, no offense, but-

Stanford: No buts! Now, repeat the rules, everyone!

Dipper, Mabel, and Stanley: *Stan and Dipper looking both annoyed, and Mabel looking very amused, they repeat the rules aloud in unison.*

Rule one, whenever a cryptid, government agent, evil being, or any kind of potential enemy of the Pines family comes to the door, carry a gun.

Rule two, everyone living in the Shack shall keep a gun or similar weapon by their bed at night in the case of a nighttime supernatural emergency.

Rule three, do not be afraid to brandish a gun whenever anyone asks too many questions about Stan's criminal past, Ford's research and/or interdimensional criminal past, or threatens to hurt Dipper or Mabel, either their feelings or physically.

Rule four, all members of the Pines family and their employees must be trained to use at least three different kinds of weapons.

Rule five, there must never be less than thirty guns hidden in the Shack at all times, preferably two per room and three per bedroom. Ten is not enough, no matter what Stan claims.

Rule six, when in doubt, Ford has the last say on anything related to weaponry and defense related matters in the Shack. Or else.

Stanford: Very good. Does anyone have any objections? Wait. *He chuckles deeply.* No, of course you don't, because these rules are forged from hard-earned lessons from the three decades I spent in the Multiverse, and they make perfect logical, ethical sense and are foolproof from accidents. Don't worry, I'll make sure all of these guns are kept in protective, cheap plastic cases.

Dipper: And here I thought living in the Shack every summer was crazy enough already. *He sighs and lets his head drop to the table.* Seriously, this is dumb.

Mabel: Grunkle Ford, why are you so badass and cool!? Grunkle Stan never let us use any guns last summer!

Stanley: Gee, I wonder why? *He sighs, then goes back to typing on Stan and Ford's shared laptop they use to answer blog questions.* Thanks, asker, for askin' about the ten guns I had around the Shack. I'll have you know that all of this is your fault.