#next northwest

[wykonii]

I honestly can’t stop drawing them

[the-orion-scribe]

The grand family tree of the Pines! A commission from Maxiluna!

משפחה זה לא רק יתרון בשבילנו, זה הכל ויותר.

"Family is not just an important thing for us, it's everything and more."

I attribute the original English quote to @mymanyfandomramblings, on her take of her next-gen Pines family tree. It is subsequently translated into Hebrew by @thegoodduckfan.

So, this is my take on the family tree, which also includes many of the unseen family members such as the Pines parents (Sarah and David), Sherman and his wife, Wendy's Mom and the other Northwests. Perhaps I would have added Abigail Northwest (an ancestor who appeared in The Book of Bill), but that's a couple more generations I would need to pay more for.

In my next-gen series, Dipper married Pacifica and they have their adorkable triplets. Meanwhile, Mabel married Kevin Corduroy and both have a pair of redhead twins.

And now to the individual portraits.

Filbrick and Caryn

The Grunkles! And Mabel knitted for them a larger Hannukah sweater!

Shermie and his wife, Michelle Pines. I headcanon that Shermie is the elder of the Grunkles, and he had gone to the Vietnam War for a time, which explained his absence during the flashbacks of A Tale of Two Stans.

The Pines parents David and Sarah! For David, it's based on the Tumblr "stemboification" post, since Hirsch mentioned he works in IT. For Sarah, I headcanon she's a museum curator. At the point of this commission, I haven't considered the possibility they might be divorced, but still, I believed they have sorted out their marital issues when the twins were away during the summer.

The Northwests and their "better lifestyles than ours". Though there's a price to pay for carrying their legacy...

Auldman was mentioned in Journal 3 as Preston's father. I haven't thought much of Adeline, though she might be also from a family of equal status. I headcanon that Priscilla was an actress, or at least a child of one.

The Corduroys! There's nothing really definitive for Wendy's Mom, besides that she isn't "present in the series", although some speculated she could have died in service as a soldier. Shannon Corduroy, Dan's wife, has black hair, which is also a throwback to the design of Pilot Wendy.

And then to the newest generation of Pines-Corduroys! Or is it Corduroy-Pines? I have Mabel and Kevin married earlier than Dipper and Pacifica. I attribute the idea to the ship to J_COTW, who wrote his take on a dipcifica next-summer series A Return to the Falls. The ship also inspired me to write an April Fools fic introducing this pair of mischievous twins.

And Dipper, Pacifica and the adorkable triplets Nita, Nilam and Taka! As we can see, the dorkiness really runs in the family.

Hope you all enjoy this set of portraits. Once again, many thanks to Maxiluna for her hard work on this massive commission!

[rosechata]

colorful oregon scenes

[abyssalzones]

the REAL reason why bill wants to leave the nightmare realm: pollution

okay I know I said I wasn't going to upload full chapters here often but LISTEN these first ones are short. and I love being inconsistent. but do check out these pages on Ad Astra Per Aspera's neocities page if you want to see these formatted the way I intended!

[1v31182m5]

Okay more Bill in the gang

[matchamiko]

Wriothesley is so husband shaped; those big shoulders for sleeping on snuggled in bed, thick forearms to bite when he’s fucking you down into the mattress, capable hands for kneading dough when you don’t want to, beautiful kind eyes that are the first thing you see in the morning, big wide hairy chest for leaning on in the bath, such a strong back for hoisting furniture around when you want to change the sitting room around, legs heavy and wide enough to sit on as you arrange flowers you’d both bought from the farmers market, fingers weathered from work and age sitting pretty between your thighs.

[bobatofu]

PINES TWINS • GROWN UP ! 🤍

these are my adult designs for the twins in my next gen au, their aged about early 40's here !

dipper is continuing ford's legacy of paranormal investigation, and has started a journal collection of his own. however, he decided to branch out and look for anomalies in other places because he believes gravity falls isn't the only town hiding weirdness.

he is currently living in california with his wife pacifica, who is a strong defense lawyer. they have a daughter, robin, who is 13.

mabel became an elementary school teacher and is now living in gravity falls with her husband gideon (redeemed ofc, and ended up becoming the sheriff !) they have 3 kids: claire (16), and twins mason + luke (12).

pacifica and gideon designs coming soon !🤍

[kadala1]

GRAVITY FALLS NEXT SUMMER IS BACK! redoing refs but here are the canon 4 (minus Apollo because he’s an oc sadly)

-

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Gideon actually gets a growth spurt when it enters season two- and dipcifica is bi4bi idc idc

[ckret2]

Super totally normal things happening in Gravity Falls today.

Just. Incredibly normal.

Chapter 13 of Human Bill Is The Mystery Shack's Prisoner And Mabel Has Decided To Be Nice To Him, featuring: medical marvels being used for stupid reasons. You can read the previous chapters here!

####

"... So there you have it," Pacifica said, running a gloved hand through her hair and gracing the country club members with a pristine plastic smile. "You too can have a full, beautiful head of hair in seconds."

The watching country club members clapped politely. Mabel slyly peeked at the woman next to her and tried to copy her Fancy Clap, patting one hand's fingertips on the other palm.

Dipper didn't clap. He'd been staring out a floor-to-ceiling window, making direct eye contact with an albino peacock, for the last five minutes. When he moved his head, so did the peacock. A bead of sweat dripped from Dipper's hairline. The peacock's gaze followed its progress down his cheek.

The assistant who'd just massaged Hairy Fairy lotion into Pacifica's hair carefully stoppered the bottle, delicately wiped it clean with a golden handkerchief, threw the handkerchief away, and handed the bottle to Pacifica so she could hold it out to the crowd. Pacifica said, "And it only takes a couple of drops to give you a full head of hair, so this little bottle will keep you looking beautiful for years. Using it all at once would make you look like Rapunzel."

Mabel gasped softly. "I want to look like Rapunzel."

Dipper dragged his gaze away from the peacock and whispered, "Do you want it enough to spend ten thousand dollars on it?"

She considered this. "Yes," she said. "Think about it, Dipper. I could make it into a rope, and then: grappling hair."

Dipper pictured Mabel firing her grappling hook and losing her head when she ran out of "rope," and shuddered. "Hey." He elbowed Mabel and pointed at the assistant. "Is it just me, or is he a little overdressed for June?"

The assistant was covered from his feet to his forehead. Nothing stood out too much about a man in a suit in the kind of country club Pacifica visited—he didn't look like a member, but he sure looked like a member's servant—but whenever he stood at an angle that gave a glimpse up his sleeve, it was clear his gloves went far further up his arm than was typical. What was really strange was the silk bandana covering the bottom half of his face, like a Wild West bandit's butler, and the designer sunglasses shaped a bit too much like goggles.

"Yeah, you're right," Mabel said. "In the commercial yesterday, the person who did Pacifica's hair looked like they were in a hazmat suit. Do you think...?"

"But Pacifica doesn't have any protection at all," Dipper said. "If it was dangerous, they probably wouldn't have hired her and risked her family suing, would they?"

"Maybe her 'modeling gig' was getting cloned. And this is Pacifica's clone stunt double for the beauty industry to test its products on!" (The woman standing next to Mabel gave her a worried look.)

The Hairy Fairy spokesman who'd presented Pacifica—a thin man with a too-big mustache and a suit that matched Pacifica's hair—stepped forward to take over the presentation again. "Wasn't that magical, folks? That's exactly why we call this stuff 'Hairy Fairy'—because it's like something out of a fairy tale!" The spokesman laughed; several country club members joined in. "And definitely not because of any other reason. Now, are there any questions—no, no questions?" The spokesman pointedly ignored the raised hand of the woman next to Mabel. "Then who's interested in placing orders today? You can order later, of course, but we have a limited stock and it's going fast—if you're intrigued, you do not want to miss out on this exclusive opportunity to buy a bottle without having to compete with the common masses. Maybe you sir, with the receding hairline? How about you, ma'am—having second thoughts about that bob cut...?"

Her job done, Pacifica had started edging away from the front of the room. She caught sight of Dipper and Mabel and tilted her head toward a nearby hallway.

The twins quietly slipped from the crowd and followed her. Dipper looked at the albino peacock, pointed two fingers at his eyes, then at it, and left.

The peacock fanned its tail threateningly.

####

"So—funny thing," Pacifica said, leading Dipper and Mabel into a wood-paneled and Persian-rugged locker room. Several boxes of Harry's Hairy Fairy Formula were stacked against a wall, in hopes the club members would make some purchases. "I asked my manager why the Hairy Fairy commercial was airing in Gravity Falls, of all places, and get this: our marketing campaign is targeting communities whose population of over-65-year-old men has a high enough average net worth to afford our prices. Ultra rich balding old dudes. And Old Man McGucket has made so much money selling his patents that he's raised the average worth of the entire town's elderly male population. So, basically, the commercial's running for his benefit!"

Dipper laughed. "Whoa, seriously? If he wanted a hair growth formula, he could probably invent one in his bath tub with motor oil."

"I know, right?"

"This is the fanciest locker room I've ever seen," Mabel said. "All the lockers are made out of real wood!" She pulled open a locker that hadn't been properly shut. "Wow. Adult golf clubs."

"Oh, yeah," Pacifica said. "Most country clubs have golf. There's a full 19-hole course outside."

Dipper frowned. "Isn't golf usually 18 holes?"

"This is the rich people's country club. They go the extra mile here."

Mabel stood on one of the velvet-cushioned benches between two rows of lockers to give herself enough height to experimentally swing a club. "I've never played adult golf before."

"I play here from time to time, when my parents bring me along to network with their colleagues' offspring. I could let you in sometime if you want."

"That sounds great!" Mabel punctuated the exclamation with a full swing of the club. It hit the ceiling. She stared in horror at the long scratch she'd left in the wood, then started sheepishly practicing more modest swings, acting like nothing had happened. "Is adult golf better than mini-golf?"

Pacifica paused. "No. It's super boring."

"Aww."

"But coming here is more fun with friends," Pacifica said. "Thanks for, um, showing up to watch my demonstration, by the way. And for... trying to dress up." Dipper had paired his usual t-shirt, vest, backpack, and trapper hat with a nice dressy pair of slacks. Mabel had knit a sweater covered in dollar signs. "Don't tell anyone, but I was actually kind of nervous about doing it live, in case something went wrong? Having you guys there really helped. I knew I had to look perfect in front of the normal people in the audience."

Mabel groaned lightheartedly. "Pacificaaa! You got so close to saying something sweet and spoiled it at the last moment."

"I knowww. Being too sincere still feels weird. I had to water it down."

Dipper said, "Hold on. Before we say anything else: I need you to prove you're you and not some kind of clone. Tell me something only the original Pacifica would know."

Pacifica raised a brow. "Seriously? I'm like a minor celebrity, who would clone me?"

"You'd be surprised, Pacifica." Dipper adopted that squinty-eyed look and mysterious voice that he thought made him look like a worldly adventurer. "You'd be surprised."

"Okay, uh..." She sighed huffily. "The first time you played Bloodcraft, you got so mad at me for trying to get you into the armor shop to upgrade your embarrassing newb gear, because there was a dragon attacking the town."

Dipper grimaced. "I didn't know that going into a building cancels a combat encounter, okay! I've played games where the enemy follows you through the next loading screen, I did not want to fight a dragon in an armor shop."

Pacifica laughed. "You were like, 'Are you just gonna let him burn down the town,' waving around your little tutorial-level handgun. As if the dragon didn't have twenty levels on you—"

"Okay, okay, got it. I believe you. You're Pacifica."

"It's really polite of the dragon to wait outside while you're shopping," Mabel said. She put on a fake deep dragon voice: "'You two find some cute clothes; I'll just be out here breathing... FIRE!'" Her next swing collided with a chandelier, smashing a couple of bulbs.  Mabel jumped off the bench to stuff the golf club back in its bag and slam the locker shut. "That... wasn't polite of me."

Pacifica opened her mouth. Dipper cut in before she had a chance to speak: "Okay, before my sister gets us kicked out for destroying the ceiling: we did come here for a reason."

"Right!" Mabel put on her Serious Face and focused on Pacifica. "Could we get a little of that hair stuff?"

"No," Pacifica said flatly. "I said you could come to watch my demonstration, and that's it."

"Pleeease?" Mabel begged, hands clasped together. "Just a tiny bit? It's really important. I have this friend—" She paused. "That's the wrong word. Not a friend, more like an enemy—an enemy that I'm trying to be nice to—? It's complicated, I'm not making any sense—"

Pacifica said, "Hey. You don't have to explain. I'm a popular mean girl. You just described, like, every single one of my friendships."

Mabel went on, "But anyway, he got this awful haircut and it is ruining his life and I need this stuff to fix it."

Pacifica put a hand on Mabel's shoulder. "Listen. I empathize, really. But I can't just hand this stuff out, even to friends. I'm not even saying that to be a jerk, I will literally get in so much trouble if I give this stuff away."

"Even just a few drops?" Mabel pled.

"They would measure it. I'm not kidding!" Pacifica started pacing. "You have no idea what this company is like. Hairy Fairy's formula is crazy controlled, down to the last drop. Even I don't get free samples. There's a limited supply—something about the active ingredient going extinct? Anyway, they only have a few thousand bottles total and stock's going fast."

(As Pacifica spoke, wrapped up in her monologue, Mabel realized she could mosey behind her and rummage through one of the boxes without Pacifica noticing. Dipper watched and said nothing.)

"Besides, it's not something for public consumption," Pacifica went on. "There's super specific application techniques, it's got to be handed over to a trained hairdresser to apply, I can't even tell you everything about the handling techniques because just to get hired on as their model I had to sign like a mountain of non-disclosure agreements—"

(Mabel retrieved a bottle, pulled out the glass stopper, and rubbed it against the palm of her right hand so she could sniff the fragrance.)

"So, like, even if I did let you take some home, you'd probably apply it wrong anyway and it wouldn't do you any good—"

"Uhhh, Pacifica? Dipper?" There was a note of suppressed panic in Mabel's voice. "Why do I look like Grunkle Ford?"

Pacifica whipped around so fast her hair smacked Dipper's face. All three of them gaped at Mabel's right hand, which had just sprouted a sixth finger.

And then, as they watched, the finger extended—and developed into a full second hand sprouting off the same wrist.

Mabel opened her mouth to shriek. Pacifica clapped a hand over it. "Be quiet, you'll get us in trouble!" she hissed. "See this is why professionals need to apply it!"

Horrified, Dipper asked, "Wait—you knew?"

"Uh, yeah? Why do you think they made me sign an NDA just to help advertise the stuff?"

"But—hold on—it can do this? And it's being sold to grow hair? If it can grow limbs, it could revolutionize medicine! It can heal injuries, reverse amputations, produce donor organs—!"

Pacifica shrugged. "Yeah, but the beauty industry paid better, sooo..."

Mabel tapped Pacifica's arm with her double hand. Pacifica shuddered and jerked her hand off Mabel's face. "Ew."

"Dipper," Mabel said, eyes wide. "Imagine all the cool new shadow puppets I could do!"

Dipper stared at Mabel. "I'm glad you're taking this well."

To Pacifica, Mabel said, "Is this why everyone who touches the stuff is covered in hazmat gear?"

"Yes," Pacifica snapped. 

"But you're not! What's protecting you from getting mutated?!"

"Nothing! The first time we tried to film the commercial, I tilted my head at the wrong moment and grew a third ear," Pacifica said. "The danger is the whole reason they hired me: I am super good at staying calm while getting hazardous cosmetic procedures. My mom taught me to never show weakness in front of somebody I'm paying to alter my appearance." She cast a nervous glance toward the locker room door. "And now I'll get in so much trouble for letting you find out—and you're gonna get in trouble just for knowing—"

"Wh—us?" Dipper said. "Why us?"

"You literally just stole product. There's hundreds of dollars of lotion on Mabel's hand right now—"

"Don't worry about it!" Mabel put the bottle back in the box where she'd found it and clumsily closed it up. "We'll just sneak out and nobody will know anything happened!" She took off her sweater and wrapped it around her hands like a muffler. "Ta-da! What do you think!" 

Pacifica grimaced, and looked at Dipper.

He shrugged. "Do you like the thought of losing your job better?"

####

"Hey, Mrs. Le Mónjelo," Pacifica said, smiling politely. "Hi, Mr. And Mrs. Oilbaron, good to see you... Hi there, senator, I haven't seen you since your fundraiser dinner—oh you bought some formula? That's awesome, I know you've got portraits for campaign season coming up soon..."

Trailing a step behind Pacifica with Mabel, Dipper leaned forward and hissed in her ear, "And you don't think you should warn any of them about—?"

Pacifica elbowed him hard. "I signed an NDA," she hissed. "Besides, as long as they read the instructions and let a hairdresser do it, they'll be fine."

"Pacifica!" A woman with red lips and redder hair stopped in front of them, smiling widely. "I haven't seen you here since the badminton club disbanded, what a pleasure."

"Oh hey, Mrs...." Pacifica blinked, drawing a blank. "Uhh..."

"Who are your little friends, here? I don't think I know them." The woman focused on Dipper and Mabel. "Do your parents ever come here? How do you know Pacifica?"

"Oh no," Pacifica said, "they're from California, they're just visiting. Their great uncles, um... own a startup... in the tourism industry."

"Oh, I see," the woman said, disapproval in her voice. "New money. Well, you'll grow into your wealth. It's good to be exposed to it from childhood, I always say. It's a pleasure to meet you." She reached past Pacifica to grab and shake Dipper's hand, then reached for Mabel—

Mabel jerked back, turning her hands away from the woman. "Aaahahah I can't do that! Sorry!"

The woman blinked at Mabel in bewilderment. "W—?"

"Because," Mabel said. "Because—I'm a hand model! Gotta keep the ol' moneymakers pristine!" She shook her dollar-sign-covered "muffler" demonstratively. "Yeah, me and Pacifica met through modeling."

"Oh," the woman said, now looking suitably impressed. "Do you protect them all the time? What remarkable dedication to your craft. Have I seen any of your work anywhere?"

"Uh, yeah," Mabel said, "did you catch the... two page spread in the... spring issue of... Diamond Rings Monthly... For Teens?"

"We should get going," Pacifica said, shooting Mabel a glare. "We don't want to miss your... finger yoga class."

Dipper buried his face in his hands.

"Right! Finger yoga! Can't miss it!" Mabel skipped toward the door. "Nice meeting you, ma'am!"

"A pleasure," the woman said, then mused to herself, "I don't think I've picked up that issue yet."

Outside the country club, an albino peacock glared balefully at Dipper through the wrought iron fence around the property. Mabel glanced around to make sure nobody was watching, then unwrapped her sweater, made a mocking three-handed finger-peacock, and blew a raspberry. The peacock let out an offended honk.

"Thanks for covering for me," Pacifica said. "And sorry about your hand. Hands. I can call my mom's plastic surgeon to get that fixed, he's super discreet—"

"No no, it's okay," Dipper said. "Don't worry about it."

Struggling to pull her sweater back on over her double hand, Mabel said, "We know this Hand Witch, she'd be thrilled to take a donation."

Frowning, Pacifica silently mouthed hand witch.

"Buuut," Mabel said, "if you want to make it up to us, maaaybe you can get us a few drops of that stuff—?"

"What?! After all that, you still—" Pacifica stomped a foot. "No, absolutely not! And if anything, covering for me is the least you could do after wasting some product and risking me getting in trouble when they figure out the bottle's off! You don't get it! I can't afford to endanger this job! I have a family to support!"

Mabel and Dipper stared at Pacifica. They exchanged a look.

Mabel said, "Pacifica, you are thirteen."

"What the heck are you talking about," Dipper asked.

Pacifica stared at them, mouth open, face going red. "I—That—I'll—" She groaned. "I'll tell you if you promise to keep it a secret."

They both nodded.

Pacifica whipped out her phone. "I'm texting you an address. Meet me here after seven."

Dipper and Mabel leaned over Mabel's phone together. "That's kind of out of town, isn't it?" Dipper said.

Mabel said, "We can take the long way back from the Hand Witch's cave."

Dipper and Mabel waved bye to Pacifica as they walked off—at which point Mabel realized she could move all ten of her right fingers independently, and she trailed behind Dipper, distracted by making her fingers roll like a wave.

####

Ford said, "All right, what are you up to?"

Bill looked toward the living room doorway. He was sitting on the sofa, watching a Russian-language romcom, with a bowl filled with hard cider and colorful marshmallow cereal.  He'd stuck a neon green straw that had been curled into the word "Queen" in the cider-cereal. "Do you mean the movie or my lunch?"

"I meant Mabel. Don't think I haven't noticed that you're trying to recruit her as your newest minion."

Bill rolled his eye. (Ford wasn't sure if his other eye was still glued shut by paint and makeup—the majority of Mabel's makeover had flaked off—or if Bill had just gotten into the habit of keeping it shut.) "Minion's such a strong word, Stanford! She wants me to feel comfortable here. I appreciate that and I accepted her help."

"And I don't suppose you've been taking advantage of her generosity to manipulate her into doing your wicked work, have you."

"If by 'manipulate' you mean 'telling her what would make me comfortable when she asked,' then I suppose I have." Bill scoffed. "When did you get so paranoid?" He took a sip from his boozy cereal.

"Around the time I learned the monster I thought was my friend was trying to destroy my dimension."

"Well, I have no idea who you're talking about, but he sounds like a real piece of work."

"And it's not paranoia when it's about someone who warrants that much distrust," Ford said. "Now tell me what you're up to with my niece."

Bill scoffed again. "If I were 'up to' something, I wouldn't tell you. And if I was innocent, you wouldn't trust me even if I told you the truth. So why are you asking me what Mabel's doing instead of her?"

Ford's scowl deepened; but he said, "You're right," and trudged off.

"There, see?" Bill called after Ford. "You didn't actually want information from me. You just wanted a confrontation! If you're looking for a little verbal fencing, we could be doing it over chess."

"Not on your life, Cipher."

"Checkers?" he suggested. "Parcheesi? DD&MD? Go Fish? Candy Kingdom? Oui-Oui Spirit Board?"

Ford didn't reply.

Bill shrugged and settled back in his seat.

Ford trudged back. "All right." He gestured impatiently at the TV. "Is this broadcasting from Russia?"

"Sharp as ever, Ford."

"How the devil are you picking it up from here?"

Bill's grin widened. "Want me to show you?"

Ford contemplated the slippery slope of allowing Bill to share his knowledge with him again, said, "No," and trudged off.

Bill was right—there was no reason for Ford to ask Bill what he had Mabel doing rather than asking Mabel herself, except that he'd wanted to talk to Bill. He was frustrated. Since the day they'd locked Bill in the Mystery Shack, Ford had spent every waking moment poring over all the old notes he'd kept during his interdimensional travels, every scrap of research he'd accumulated on Bill that he hadn't burned at the end of last summer, all the data he'd recorded on the portal to the Nightmare Realm and the rifts around Gravity Falls it had left behind, looking for something he'd missed that could explain why Bill was back and what it would take to get rid of him for good.

But so far he'd found nothing. Not a hint. And part of him felt like if he could just face Bill down again, have it out with him, that some stuck gear in his head would finally shake loose—

Obviously, that was stupid.

This morning, Stan had pointed out how exhausted Ford looked. He'd told Ford he wasn't about to kill the triangle if he worked himself to death first. He'd said Ford needed somebody helping him. Stan couldn't help—not considering the kinds of advanced sciences he'd need to master just to enter a conversation on destroying something like Bill Cipher—but he was right that Ford couldn't do this in isolation. Here Ford was trying to futilely provoke Bill into giving something away; what more proof did he need that he was at the end of his rope?

When Soos had finished with the latest tourist group and led them into the gift shop, Ford waved him over from the other side of the room. "'Scuse me, folks," Soos said, with a wink, "it looks like one of our professional paranormal investigators might have something mysterious for me to check out."

(Ford glanced down at himself. He supposed he did look like some sort of mysterious investigator of oddities. Which he was, but knowing he looked like one felt kind of cool.)

Soos went on, "So you guys check out the merch and I'll be right back. We've got a sale on postcards!"

A woman with a fanny pack asked, "Does that investigator have six fingers?" Several tourists murmured appreciatively.

Soos tried to think of an answer that avoided framing Ford like he was part of the Mystery Shack's freak show, said, "No," and left.

"Sorry to bother you at work," Ford said. "I need to borrow your cell phone to text Mabel."

"Oh, sure dude." He fished it out and handed it over. "Is something going on?" His gaze drifted toward the "Employees Only" door to the living room. He didn't need to mention Bill. 

"Hopefully not, but that's what I'm trying to find out." He went silent for a moment so he could focus on typing on the glassy keyboard.

There. He exited the conversation with Mabel and offered the phone back to Soos, but not before noticing one of Soos's recent conversations was with Fiddleford. "You and Melody go over to Fiddleford's from time to time, don't you? To... watch foreign cinema?"

"Oh—yeah, dude! We've been introducing him to the anime classics! He's gotten surprisingly passionate over Neon Crisis Revelations. Like—really passionate. I think we might have to retire mecha anime for a while," Soos said. "Sometimes Tate watches, too. Not every week, but... they're working on it. We, uh—actually kinda wanted to ask if you might want to come, sometime? When you're not working on the... 'Goldilocks' project? I get it if you're too busy or just not interested or whatever, but you seem like the kind of nerd who'd be really into anime. No offense. I meant it as a compliment, actually—most people consider an accusation of liking anime to be pejorative, but I think it speaks well to their tastes—"

"Soos." Ford offered him a small smile. "I was actually trying to figure out how to politely ask for an invitation."

"Oh. Phew! Mutually awkward social encounter: successfully navigated!" Soos held up a hand. "Up top!"

Ford high-sixed him. He appreciated having the little social successes celebrated. "Let me know if Mabel texts back, would you?"

"Sure thing, Mr. Pines!" Soos flashed Ford a thumbs up as he left the gift shop.

"'The Goldilocks project'?"

Soos started. "Oh! Wendy! Wow, I uh... totally forgot you were like... right there."

"Yup." She had her elbow propped next to the cash register and her chin in her hand. "Five days a week."

"Right. Right." Soos tugged his collar. "It's... it's nothing. But it's secret. But it's no big deal."

Wendy blinked at him. "Right."

"Right." Soos gestured vaguely at the tourists moseying around the gift shop. "I, uh, I should... bye."

Wendy watched him go, frowning.

Whatever "crisis" had happened on the first day of summer, it wasn't over. Something was wrong. She felt it every time she was at work, every time Dipper and Mabel made up an excuse to hang with Wendy away from the shack, and every time the Stans ventured into the Mystery Shack to draw Soos aside for a quick conversation. She felt it in her bones. Which seemed like something her dad would probably say, very loudly, so she hated feeling things in her bones.

It probably wasn't her business. Okay. Fine. Sure. Pines family stuff. She was just an employee/family friend, she didn't need to know all about their personal lives.

But—her gaze drifted toward the "Employees Only" door—much more of this, and she might have to start snooping anyway.

####

(Hi! Author here! I appreciate hearing what y'all think and what y'all enjoyed! Thanks! Next chapter and the conclusion of the Hairy Fairy plot arc coming this time next week!)

[the-real-couchrat]

Doodle of Dipper and Pacifica at a fancy event!

With wings

Without wings

I admit, Dipper’s outfit is pirate inspired. I had gone to a naval museum the day I drew this, and it got stuck in my thoughts.

The doodle is pretty messy, but I still really like it!

The wing jewelry was inspired by a chapter called Things about wings

I also have been designing jewelry for some TAU dragon OCs in the works, so they will reappear in future posts!

[asktheoriontriplets]

Welcome to our ask blog!

Hey there and welcome everyone!

I’m Mintaka Tyrone Pines (the guy on the right), but please, just call me Taka. You might be a little surprised by how I look—yeah, I’ve got heterochromia, which means I literally have one of each of my parents’ eye colors. But let’s not get too hung up on that. At least my hair is a natural blonde, I'm certain of it, and not half-half!

So, welcome to the blog my sisters and I set up! Nita’s the one with all the brains (definitely the smart one), and Nilam, well, she’s got seven fingers, which is kinda cool. As for me, I’m the "dork" with the journal chronicling all of our adventures. You might’ve heard of our parents—Dipper and Pacifica Pines? Yep, we’re their kids. Besides sharing some tips and tricks for surviving the weirdness of Gravity Falls, we might just spill a few juicy secrets about our parents. Hehe, just make sure they don’t find out about this blog, alright?

And I shall let my sisters introduce themselves:

Hi! I'm Nita! I am the eldest of the three. At least by a couple of minutes. (only 13 minutes, Nita!) People often call me a spitting image of my dad, minus his birthmark. Some even say I’m the “Girl Dipper” because, like him, I’m pretty nerdy and ace my tests, though not without hard work! But honestly, I’m not exactly as adventurous as my siblings. They love dragging me into their shenanigans while I’d much rather stay out of trouble. Sometimes I wish people could see me as more than just my dad's mirror. It’s not that I don’t love my dad—I just want to be recognized for who I am, you know? Anyway, if you’re into drama series, hit me up! What? I don't know anything about Unforgettable Lovers! Sure, the actress is gorgeous, but—what? Stop asking!

Heyo! I’m Nilam, but my dad likes to call me by my middle name because of my rather unique seven fingers on one hand. Most people just call me Nilam, though! I might look like my sister, but trust me, we’re pretty different. I’ve got my mom’s blue eyes, and apparently, I take after my Aunt’s impulsiveness and artistic side. I love embracing who I am, and if anyone thinks otherwise, well, I’ve got some karate and judo skills I’d be happy to show off. Besides that, I’m really into arts and crafts, and I play the piano! I’m not as nerdy or brainy as my dad or sister, but I’m cool with that—I don’t mind working hard to get where I need to be!

So if you want to know us better, feel free to drop an ask! Otherwise, feel free to check out our adventures here!

[sorebelflower]

pacfica northwest outfits in dti but shes a teenager and somehow richer

peep the dior bag and fur items (STYLED CORRECTLY I DIDNT USE ALL THE FUR ITEMS AT ONCE GRRR)

[the-orion-scribe]

The triplets do take after their parents, don't they? What have they seen?

Another commission from pau_sketches!

[bakedbakermom]

WHO WANTS TO SEE A KICKASS 100 YEAR OLD HEARSE

10/10 would take my last earthly road trip in this vehicle

[kylewalker-peters]

Maybe the real horror of amc’s the terror is the way you’ll be forced to remember it what feels like every 5 minutes of your life

[jarvis-cockhead]

i need to watch more hitchcock immediately