#soosly

[stephreynaart]

Ten Minute Parking

@soosly 

I have a few things planned for Soos Month! Get ready for Dad!Stan feels and of course plenty of funny. 

[zoxiee]

A couple pics from Abuelita’s photo album for @soosly!!

This month ended up being busier than I thought so I’m a little late first week’s prompt: Youth

Love you Soos!!

[exclusionzonebird]

It’s canon that Stan taught Soos how to box and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. [x]

[3hobbitsinatrenchcoat]

Soosly - Week 4 - Family

This monster took forever but I finally got the @soosly week 4 prompt done. Uh... this one needs a content warning so CW Death Mention (its not a major character though don’t worry)

-----

“Anyone seen Soos? I gotta discuss a new display with him.” Stan pushed his way into the giftshop, balancing a box of half-finished taxidermy parts on one arm and trying to hold open the door with the other.

Melody looked up from the register with a frown, hands paused on her end of day count. “I thought maybe you'd pass him on the way in. He went to check the mail a little while ago but hasn't come back yet.”

“Huh.” Stan set down his box on the counter and cracked his back with a grimace. “I didn't see him by the mailbox but we might'a passed each other.”

Melody's frown deepened. “Seems unlikely. Try the back porch if you don't see him near the mailbox. He likes to grab a Pitt and sit on the couch sometimes.”

“Ain't that familiar,” laughed Stan. He nodded thanks to Melody before tucking his hands in his pockets and wandering back outside.

Soos certainly wasn't at the mailbox, or anywhere visible from the gift shop steps either. Stan frowned and thumped down the steps and around to the back of the house. He relaxed for a brief moment as Soos's familiar form came into view, sitting not on the couch but on the steps, shoulders shaking... Stan's blood ran cold and he swore as he saw Soos lift a hand to scrub at his face.

It took every ounce of self-control he had not to sprint across the backyard. Instead he opted for a more casual yet still purposeful stride, scuffing his feet when he got within earshot so he didn't startle the poor kid when he eased down onto the steps next to him. Soos barely looked over, which was a bad sign, and stared sightlessly across the scrubby late summer grass towards the woods with eyes red-rimmed from crying, which was an even worse sign.

“Hey, gumdrop,” said Stan gently after a long moment of silence punctuated only by a quiet sniffle. He hadn't used the nickname in a while but it was all he could think of in the moment. He didn't expect Soos to full-body flinch at being addressed and cut off the are you okay? that Stan had been about to follow up with by holding out what looked like a letter.

“What is this?” Stan asked, and took the paper from Soos when he merely shook the paper. It may have been just his hand shaking, the way his shoulders trembled. “You want me to read it?” Soos nodded, and Stan saw his eyes welling with more tears before he looked away again.

“Jesus,” read Stan, and he had to suppress a snort because honestly, when was the last time anyone had called Soos by his legal first name?

“I've started this letter a hundred times and every formal introduction seems callous, given the circumstances. I wish that we were being introduced in more pleasant times, but you deserve to know the truth. You have two half-sisters in New Orleans.

“Until last week, when your wedding invitation arrived, my sister and I were unaware we had a brother. We suspect that any mail from you was intercepted by our father to prevent us from finding out he had other family. Unfortunately, that brings me to the heart of the matter.

“Dad passed away a month ago. I've included a copy of the obituary if you wanted the information for family records. I wish... I wish we had known sooner, so that we could have told you. [several lines here were covered in a thick line of whiteout and written over again] I did some digging in Dad's office and, if it is any consolation, he kept every letter you sent. They were in the locked drawer of his filing cabinet, but he did keep them.

“I understand if you want nothing to do with us, but if you ever want to reach out I included my email and phone number. Even though I don't know you yet, it is nice knowing that somewhere in Oregon I have an older brother.

“I am truly sorry you had to find out like this.

“Sincerely, Sandy Oaks”

Wordlessly, Stan picked up the crumpled envelope from where it had fluttered to the ground and pulled out a newspaper clipping. The image of a bland white-bread man stared back at him and Stan folded the picture over so he wouldn't have to stare him in the face as he read.

“Harold Greene, aged 58, passed away peacefully surrounded by family last week. He is survived by his two daughters and 2 grandchildren. All who knew Mr. Oak remember him fondly as a hard-working family man...” Stan stopped reading, rage flickering red at the edges of his vision. Family Man? The man who walked out and never visited his son? The man who Sophie Ramirez would threaten to hunt down and maim if you got more than one drink in her? That man, a family man?

Stan sat seething, unable to put into words exactly what he was feeling. He mechanically folded the letter and newspaper clipping, sliding them back into the envelope with a stony expression. Another miserable sniff came from the stoop beside him and he carefully wrapped an arm around Soos's shoulders.

“I'm sorry, Soos.” Stan said quietly and that was really all it took. With a choked off exhale Soos turned and wrapped his arms around Stan, face buried against his shoulder, great wracking sobs shuddering through his body. Stan froze for all of a second before he pulled Soos tight into a hug, one large hand rubbing soothing circles across his back.

“I... I never even met him,” Soos managed to say between wet gasps for air. “I didn't have the chance, and... and now he's gone. I knew his address, I... I could've gone down to see him but it... I waited too long. I waited too long and now I'll never get to... to...” he trailed off in a hicupping swallow, shoulders tense and shaking.

There were a lot of things Stan wanted to say in the moment. He'd harbored a deep, intense anger at the man for many years. He resented how one man could have such a negative impact on such a cheerful, well-meaning soul. He'd never thought he could dislike a man just as much as his own father, but apparently some deadbeat asshole named Harold fucking Greene was neck in neck for that contest. Stan couldn't say any of that in that moment, with Soos' fingers white-knuckling fistfuls of his t-shirt and tears soaking through to his shoulder. Instead he sighed and tightened his arms around the young man, letting long moments pass as he gathered his thoughts.

“I'd like to say the grief will pass, son,” said Stan after a while, not quite aware of his own words as he thought back to his own lonely mourning when Filbrick passed away. The man had been horrible, sure, but he'd still been his father. “It might be a while before you really come to terms with it and...” he stopped, concerned as Soos suddenly froze against his shoulder and then let out a single wheezing laugh. “Uh, you ok there?”

“I...” Soos sat back, cheeks blotchy with tears but a shaky smile breaking across his face. “Here I am crying about a guy I never even met when...” he swallowed and looked down at his own hands as he clenched and unclenched them in his lap. His next words were a whisper Stan had to strain to hear. “When you were really all the father figure I really needed.”

Aw hell.

Stan felt his own eyes start burning and as he blinked a single hot trail wound its way from his eye and settled in the crease of his nose. “For fuck's sake, Soos. Warn a man before you attempt to murder him.” The words came out strangled, and Soos's gaze snapped over to meet his. They held eye contact for mere seconds before they both broke out in somewhat hysterical laughter, arms slung over each others shoulders more for support than anything else.

“I was saving it for a wedding present but I might as well tell you now,” said Stan once they both calmed down enough for words to make sense. “First of all, kid... you really have to read what people hand you to sign. Even if it's me. Actually, especially if it's me.”

“What?”

“Remember those papers I had you sign a few weeks ago that I said were some legal bullshit for the shack since Ford and I had to sort out the 'not being dead' thing? They had nothing to do with the shack.” It was Stan's turn to look sightlessly into the treeline as his heartbeat seemed loud enough to shake the stoop. “They were adoption papers. Turns out all you need to adopt an adult in Oregon is the adult's consent.”

There was complete silence from Stan's left side and he swallowed hard. “I haven't filed them yet, it was a pretty major invasion of privacy and...” His apology cut off abruptly as Soos nearly bowled him over in another hug.

“DO YOU MEAN IT, MR PINES??” The yelling was right in his ear but Stan couldn't bring himself to care.

“Of course I mean it, gumdrop. Why the fuck wouldn't I mean it? I had to go talk to a lawyer and everything!” He made a token struggle against Soos' very tight grip before chuckling and hugging him back. “And if you call me, your father, 'Mr. Pines' one more time, I'm going to have some words for you, young man.” The threat was empty and they both laughed a little damply.

“Thanks, Dad.” Soos leaned heavily on Stan's shoulder and Stan pressed a whiskery kiss to the top of his head.

“You're welcome, Son.”

[gettingsillyhere]

@soosly week 1: Youth!

[drzewobojczyni]

@soosly week 2: Games

I wonder if Soos would like "Dungeons, Dungeons, and more Dungeons"...

Somehow, I managed to finish it this week, despite the spontaneous bilberry picking trip. My hands are still a bit stained...

DeviantArt

[themonthofmaybel]

#monthofmaybel2019 #prepare for soosly #it’s gonna be the #*explosion noise*

[soosly]

SOOSLY 2020!!!!

Fond of Stanuary? Forduary’s always fun! And what about Month of Maybel and Diptember? All the Pines have a month dedicated to them by the fandom….well all except one….

But now *trumpet fanfare* there is!!!

You heard right doods, this is an event, an entire MONTH to celebrate the wonderfulness that is Soos Ramirez.

The same as Stanuary, this event’s goal is to be a fun, no stress event to come together as a fanbase and show each other love and support. And celebrate Gravity Falls of course! 

Each week will have a theme and you can do as much or as little as you want. Feel free to deviate from the themes too! 

We’d all love to see your work, whether it’s a 17hr labor of love or a scribble in the margin of your geometry homework.

Everyone is welcome to participate, and all forms of media are encouraged: fics, art, videos, crafts, poetry, cosplays, headcanons etc. Draw a face on a potato and call it a Soos!

Week 1: Youth Week 2: Games Week 3: Wisdom Week 4: Family

Tag us here @soosly and use #soosly2020 to make sure we see it! The event starts July 1st and ends August 13th

HAVE FUN!!!! 

[orangeoctopi7]

Walking Like a One-Man Army

I guess this chapter is kinda for @soosly ? It does prominently feature Soos being a BA.

: Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 :

The three of them piled into Soos’s truck. Ford elected to slide into the back of the cab with Mabel rather than sit shotgun. He needed to tell his niece what Debbs had decided.

“Mabel, I, uh…” He said slowly, “I spoke with your mother earlier this morning…”

The colorful girl tensed and pulled the collar of her sweater up a bit. Had all their ill-fated conversations over the last couple of days left her apprehensive to even speak with him?

“...I told her I wanted to keep Dipper on as my apprentice, and that you were welcome to stay here as well. Unfortunately, she, uh, declined to grant her permission.” 

“Oh!” Mabel smiled with relief, letting her collar drop. “That’s ok! Me and Dipper already talked about it and decided not to stay here anyway, so everything works out!”

Ford’s heart sank. So Stan was wrong. The children had indeed come to realize the old researcher was a toxic influence in their lives. He tried to tell himself it was for the best, to focus on his intellect and control his emotions, but controlling anguish was a lot harder than controlling fear. He at least was able to keep his expression neutral as he found something else to distract him: nitpicking grammar.

“Dipper and I.” He corrected her mechanically. “In any case, we need to come up with a plan to confront Bill and find Fiddleford.”

“He’s got this little shelter next to one of the telephone poles.” Soos commented from the driver’s seat. “It’s actually surprisingly nice for something in the middle of the dump made completely out of scrap material.”

“If Bill’s expecting us, that’s probably where he’ll be.” Ford said gravely. “I imagine he’ll keep Fiddleford close-by, to keep a close eye on his bargaining chip. We’ll need a distraction. Bill may be an all-seeing eye, but even he has trouble splitting his attention.” 

“Oooh, I’m super amazing at being a distraction!” Mabel piped up.

“I don’t doubt that.” Ford nodded, fondness somehow managing to slip past all the other emotions he was repressing. “But I promised your brother and Stan that I’d keep you safe, so I need you to stay close to me. Soos, do you think you could be a good distraction?”

“Oh yeah, totally.” Soos said nonchalantly. “Mr. Pines asks me to be the distraction all the time! When the taxman comes, or the safety inspector, or the police….”

“Of course he does.” Ford muttered. “What I need you to do is keep Bill’s attention while Mabel and I look for Fiddleford and get him to safety. Bill should still be possessing that time travel agent, so while he won’t be able to access any of the reality-warping powers he wields in the mindscape, he will have access to any weapon from Gravity Falls’ history or future. You’ll need to be ready for anything.”

“Well, they did teach me how to disarm an opponent with a gun or knife in my karate class, so I’ll probably be ok.”

* * *

It was quieter that Mabel was used to when they reached the dump. Normally, you could hear the sound of power tools and banjo strings even from the dump’s entrance, but not today. Today was deceptively peaceful.

The peace was broken by an eerie, high-pitched laugh. It was coming from the center of the dump, but as they looked around frantically, they couldn’t see their enemy anywhere. Ford fired his blaster, obliterating a board in the fence with a one-eyed triangle carved into it. 

“Well, he knows we’re here.” He said gravely. 

“What should we do?” Mabel asked.

“Proceed with the plan. Soos, you head straight for the center of the dump, we’ll go around the long way. Mabel, do you think you’ll be able to lead me to Fiddleford’s shelter if we don’t take a direct route?”

Mabel nodded with determination, even though she was only about 50% sure she’d be able to find the place, considering she’d only been there once. 

They split up, Mabel leading Ford towards the east wall of the dump. She was pretty sure if she climbed up the pile of wrecked cars there, she’d be able to look out over the dump and figure out a way to get to McGucket’s shelter, and maybe even see where Bill was at.

While running through the dump, they heard the occasional scurry of a racoon or possum through the trash. It was clear that Ford’s already twitchy nerves were on high alert, and he leveled his blaster at every single one. Luckily, he hadn’t been startled enough to fire it yet, which was good because they were trying to sneak around while Soos was distracting Bill.

The stack of cars was within sight when they noticed more scurrying around the corner. Only unlike all the other scurries they’d heard, it seemed to be running towards them instead of away from them. Ford pointed his blaster yet again, and pulled Mabel behind him.

“PEEKABOO!” Blendin’s face wearing a contorted grin popped out from around the corner. “WOW, SIXER, YOU REALLY EXPECTED ME TO TAKE THE BAIT AND GO AFTER QUESTION MARK? PPPPFT, PLEASE! HE’S NOWHERE NEAR AS FUN TO MESS WITH AS YOU! OR SHOOTING STAR, FOR THAT MATTER.” 

Bill took a few menacing steps towards them and leaned down so he was closer to Mabel’s eye-level. “WHADDAYA SAY KID? HOW WOULD YOU LIKE A NEVER-ENDING PARTY FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY? I’LL MAKE SURE ALL YOUR LITTLE FRIENDS ARE THERE, AND YOU’LL NEVER HAVE TO GO TO HIGHSCHOOL! IN FACT, YOU’LL BE ABLE TO DO WHATEVER YOU WANT! ALL YOU GOTTA DO IS GIVE ME THAT RIFT!”

“Don’t you dare speak to her.” Ford growled. 

“You’re a butt-brain!” Mabel shouted, flinging out the worst insult she could think of.

Bill shrugged Blendin’s shoulders smugly. “OH WELL. I WAS GONNA LET YOU HAVE YOUR OWN PERSONAL PARADISE BUBBLE FOR YOU AND YOUR FRIENDS, BUT IF YOU’RE NOT GONNA COOPERATE WITH ME, I GUESS YOU’LL JUST HAVE TO SUFFER UNIMAGINABLE PAIN AND DESTRUCTION LIKE THE REST OF YOUR MISERABLE DIMENSION.” He pulled out a large rusty pipe and hefted it threateningly in his hands. “SO, WHERE’S THAT RIFT, IQ?”

“You really think I was stupid enough to bring it here with me?” Ford scoffed.

“WELL, I MEAN, YOU WERE STUPID ENOUGH TO TRUST ME.” Bill counted on his fingers. “AND TO THINK YOUR BROTHER WOULD ACTUALLY LISTEN TO YOU WHEN YOU CALLED FOR HELP. AND TO USE TOO MUCH GLUE WHEN YOU TRIED TO SEAL THE RIFT. SO YEAH. I DO THINK YOU’RE THAT STUPID.”

“Well I’m not.”

“OH, LEMME GUESS. YOU LEFT IT WITH PINETREE?”

“And with Grukle Stan!” Mabel added defiantly.

Bill snorted. “YEAH, ‘CUZ I’M REAL SCARED OF HIM!”

The possessed time traveler didn’t even get a derisive chuckle out before Soos barreled into him with a flying kick.

“Hey dude, I need you to pay attention to me for the next, I dunno, five to ten minutes?” He looked over at Ford. “D’you think that’s enough time?”

Ford just nodded mutely, unsure of how else to react to the handyman’s sudden entrance.

Bill picked his possessed body up off the ground. “YOU WANT ME TO PAY ATTENTION TO YOU, QUESTION MARK? HOW DO YOU LIKE THIS ATTENTION?” He pulled out a time tape and disappeared in a flash, only to reappear a second later with a large carpenter’s hammer in his hand. He threw it at Soos, who dodged it with skills honed from ten years of karate sparring.

As Bill continued to pursue Soos, pulling out weapons from random time periods as he went, Ford pulled Mabel away, back towards the center of the dump. This was just the distraction they needed, it just happened in a different order than they’d been expecting. 

So, her original plan to look for McGucket’s shelter from the top of a trash mountain wasn’t going to work now, but she could still find it, right? She remembered that a telephone pole had been one of the main support beams in the little hut, so she just needed to follow the telephone lines! Spotting one above, she rushed ahead, now pulling Ford instead of the other way around.

Sure enough, they came upon McGucket’s hovel nearby. Too nearby. They could still hear Soos doing his best to lead Bill on a wild goose-chase on the opposite side of a pile of discarded furniture and tires. But they could also hear a low, animal-like moan from inside the shelter. The two of them rushed across the clearing, hoping to reach the fox skin that acted as a door before Bill rounded the trash pile.

Before they could reach it, two things happened.

First of all, a loud, up-beat pop song started blaring out of Mabel’s pocket. 

“Girl, oh girl, you got it all, you know.”

“But girl, oh girl, you don’t got me, no!”

Mabel slapped her forehead and pulled out her phone, trying to silence it. “Ugh, Pacifica! Bad timing!”

Second, Bill blew away the trash pile with a shot from a cannon, sending chunks of broken wood and plastic everywhere and clearing a path between him and the shelter.

“THERE YOU ARE!”

Mabel just barely managed to hold onto her phone as Ford grabbed her by the arm and practically threw her into the door. He hurtled in after her, but no second shot came. Instead, they heard a loud, frustrated groan.

“UUUGH, WHY DO YOU HUMANS MAKE WEAPONS THAT ARE SUCH A WASTE OF TIME? WHO THOUGHT IT WAS A GOOD IDEA TO HAVE TO REPACK THE GUNPOWDER AND ROLL IN ANOTHER BALL EVERY TIME YOU WANT TO SHOOT SOMETHING?”

“Well, it’s not that they thought it was a good idea, it’s just that they hadn’t developed the technology--” Ford started to explain when Mabel reached up and covered his mouth. He really couldn’t help himself sometimes, could he?

That same moan they’d heard before came again, louder, from under a pile of newspapers. Many of them had frantic calculations scribbled all over them. Ford reached down and brushed them aside, revealing a shivering, hyperventilating McGucket.

Mabel had seen McGucket be pretty crazy this summer. He’d jigged on an unplugged videogame for a week, ate his way out of a dinosaur, and claimed he preferred to walk backwards when she gave him a makeover. But she’d never seen him look so terrified and broken. His eyes were wide and unfocused, like he didn’t even notice they were there, and his breaths were coming in short, sharp whines. It was especially sad compared to the last time she’d seen him, when his mind really seemed like it was beginning to clear.

Ford looked down on his friend, absolutely devastated. If McGucket was looking bad compared to the last time Mabel had seen him, she could only imagine how he looked compared to the last time Ford saw him. 

“Y’KNOW WHAT, I’M JUST GONNA GO BACK AND GET ANOTHER ONE THAT’S ALREADY LOADED.” They heard Bill whine, followed by the zap of the time tape being used.

McGucket moaned again at the sound of Bill’s voice, shutting his eyes tightly and clutching his head. That seemed to snap Ford out of his shock, and he reached down and scooped the old inventor into his arms.

“Let’s get out of here.” He told Mabel.

Just as they ran out the door, Bill reappeared in front of them with another cannon.

“UH-UH-UH! FOUR-EYES ISN’T GOING ANYWHERE UNTIL I GET WHAT I WANT, SIXER!”

“Just keep running!” Ford shouted to Mabel. They picked up the pace and just barely got out of the way in time to avoid the cannonball that ripped through McGucket’s shelter.

“Dudes, over here!” Soos called to them, where he was trying to finish reloading the other cannon Bill had abandoned after less than a minute of trying. “We can fight cannon with cannon!”

“There’s no time!” Ford barked. “We need to either get out of here or find cover!”

“Cover, huh?” Soos said thoughtfully, scratching his chin, until an idea popped into his head. “Oh! You’ve seen that old timey video of the dude who takes a cannonball to the stomach and it just bounces off of him? I’ve always wanted to try that!”

Ford and Mabel stared at him for a beat, dumbstruck.

“I say follow your dreams, Soos!” Mabel encouraged him.

“Yes, if you believe you’re capable, I see no reason not to give it a shot.” Ford agreed.

When Bill reappeared with another cannon, Soos stood squarely in front of it while Ford and Mabel made a run for the truck.

“OH, THIS OUGHTA BE GOOD!” Bill smirked as he fired.

Soos braced himself just as the cannonball collided with his stomach. While the iron ball did bounce off his gut and drop to the ground, Soos was also thrown back almost three feet. He landed on his back but the wind was already knocked out of him. As soon as he could move again, he rolled over and threw up.

“Ohhoho… dude…” the handyman muttered. “I knew that was probably gonna hurt, but it still hurt way worse than I was expecting. Ugh, I think I might’ve cracked a rib.”

No answer. Not even a mocking remark from Bill.

“Dudes?” He slowly got up to his feet and looked around. Ford and Mabel had run away, and Bill had chased after them. Oh well, at least Soos had bought them some time. He reached into his pocket to call his abuelita for a ride home, but alongside his phone, he felt another object. His truck keys. “Uh-oh.”

* * *

Despite Soos’s best efforts, Bill was still hot on their tail. Fiddleford squirmed weakly in Ford’s arms as they passed another mountain of garbage. His eyes seemed to briefly focus on Ford, but they looked far, far away.

“I’m jus’ barely gettin’ my mind back now, I don’t wanna lose it again...” The old inventor murmured feebly before resuming his catatonic state. It felt like someone had just stabbed Ford in the heart with an icy dagger, and he picked up the pace.

The sign above the dump’s exit soon came into view, but there were still several more piles of junk between here and there. As they fled, Mabel turned and fired her grappling hook at an old kitchen sink sticking half-way out the bottom of one of the larger junk piles behind them. The hook caught on the faucet and Mabel yanked back on the line hard, dislodging the kitchen sink and collapsing the garbage mountain in a landslide. 

“Let’s see Bill blast his way through that!” She cheered.

Ford knew it was too soon to relax. As long as Bill was possessing this time travel agent, he had access to any weapon in human history, or humankind’s future, for that matter. Although, come to think of it, why hadn’t Bill used a weapon from the future on them yet? Perhaps that would draw the attention of the Time Paradox Avoidment Enforcement Squadron?

“There’s the truck!” Mabel exclaimed, bringing Ford out of his speculations. They skidded to a stop as they finally reached the vehicle and Ford tried to open the door.

It was locked.

Soos still had the keys.

Ford swore under his breath as he searched for something to pry the door open with. Yes, he could break into the truck, and yes, he could hotwire it, but that all took time! Time they didn’t have!

He was expecting Bill to step out of the dump any second now, but he didn’t appear. Instead, what at first glance appeared to be a flock of ravens rose out of the nearby woods. At the same time, Fiddleford thrashed in his arms and began to yell incoherently. Stanford tried to lay him in the back of the truck gently, so he wouldn’t drop him. The old researcher’s blood ran cold. It sounded almost identical to the gibberish his friend had spouted immediately after the failed first portal test. 

As the mysterious flock drew near, Ford began searching for a rock, a golf club, anything he could use to break open the truck’s windows and get inside, all while keeping a close eye on the approaching swarm. As they came closer, he could see they weren’t birds, they were bats! But why would a swarm of bats take flight in the middle of the day? They were close enough to start blocking out the sun when Ford realized they weren’t bats. They were Eye-bats!

He pulled out his blaster and started firing into the swarm. “Mabel, find something to break into the truck with!”

She nodded and took a step back towards the dump, when Bill finally made his leisurely way to the exit. Ford couldn’t help but notice that Fiddleford’s cries stopped almost as soon as the possessed time traveler appeared.

“YOU FLESH-SACKS AREN’T GOING ANYWHERE!” Bill crowed. “NOT UNTIL I GET THAT RIFT! AFTER THAT, I HONESTLY COULDN’T CARE LESS.”

Just as Bill took another menacing step towards Mabel, Soos appeared, sledding down a trash mountain on a car door. He crashed into Bill and kept going until colliding into the side of his truck.

“Uh… I got the keys.” The handyman said in a daze, holding them up triumphantly.

Ford grabbed the keys and helped him up and into the shotgun seat. “I think I’d better drive.”

“Thanks dude, I appreciate it.” Soos said with a chuckle, then clutched his stomach. “Ooof, ugh, that’s… that’s definitely bruised.”

The truck zoomed away just as Bill rushed for the truck bed where Fiddleford was still laying. The swarm of Eye-bats descended on them, and Ford rolled down his window, steering with one hand and firing his blaster into the flock with the other. He knew it wasn’t exactly the safest position for his friend to be in, nearly unconscious in the bed of a speeding, reckless pickup truck, but he couldn’t exactly pull over and buckle him in next to Mabel. Not if they didn’t want to be overtaken by Eye-bats. The old researcher just had to hope that his old friend would be able to hold out until they reached the shield spell.

* * *

Stan was just sitting and watching tv like this was a perfectly normal day. Dipper wondered how he could possibly do it, just push all the danger and worry aside and vegg out like that. Sure, Stan wasn’t really invested in McGucket’s safety, but he had to care what might happen to Mabel, Ford, and Soos, right? 

Of course, Dipper had known Stan long enough that he knew the old conman tended to express his emotions in a weird way. He teased and noogied to show affection, loaded on chores instead of compliments, and lied to the people he loved to try and keep them safe. Not to mention he’d spent the last thirty years trying to bring his lost brother home with an incredibly dangerous machine, while also pretending everything was normal. Maybe Stan was just really good at ignoring danger and worry by this point. And wow, that was a depressing thought. 

Dipper kept vigilant watch out the front window, searching for any suspicious activity while also waiting anxiously for the return of Soos’s truck. He’d been sitting there for maybe fifteen minutes when the phone rang. It rang two more times, and Stan made no move to answer it. Dipper was unwilling to leave his post himself, but Stan was just watching old reruns of Baby Fights!

“Uh, Grunkle Stan?” Dipper called out after the fourth ring. Maybe he’d turned down his hearing aide?

“I hear it kid.” Stan grunted.

“Well, aren’t you going to get it!?”

“It’s probably just that triangular jerk, tryin’ to distract us. And if not, whoever it is can just leave a message.”

“But what if it’s Mabel or Soos?”

Dipper was distracted from his complaining when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. A car was coming down the dirt road towards the Mystery Shack. The boy seriously doubted the rescue mission would be back already.

Stan got up with a grunt from his chair to see what had caught Dipper’s attention. “There, see? What’d I tell ya? Wouldn’t’ve noticed whoever this yahoo is if you’d been trying to listen in on me while I was on the phone. When you know somebody’s after ya, you gotta keep distractions to a minimum.”

“You were just watching TV!” the boy gestured back to the flickering CRT.

“Eh, it’s a rerun, I’m not really payin’ attention to it, just need something to calm my nerves.”

The mystery car drove out of the trees. It wasn’t a car at all, it was a limo. One Dipper recognized from the Northwest’s fleet.

“Well, this ain’t gonna be good.” Stan grimace.

“M-maybe it’s just Pacifica coming to ask for help again?” The boy said hopefully, although his heart wasn’t really in it.

Sure enough, the Northwest stepping out of the limo was Preston. He looked around like everything about the Shack was a personal insult to him before stepping up to the door and knocking with a gloved hand.

Stan grabbed the taxidermied fake dodo sitting on a small table in the corner and reached under its wing, pulling out a small handgun, which he held behind his back as he opened the door. Dipper wasn’t quite sure how to feel about the fact that his uncle was answering the door with a loaded gun in his hand. Sure, they were all in danger from Bill at the moment, but he really didn’t want Stan to go to jail for shooting one of the most important people in Gravity Falls, even if Preston probably deserved it.

“Whaddya want?” Stan asked gruffly.

Preston’s small, forced smile seemed painful. “Aheh, yes, well, I suppose I’ll get right to the point then. I’m here to purchase your… I suppose this qualifies as a business on some level? My opening offer is two million dollars for the building and the land it occupies.”

“Hah! Yeah, right!” Stan barked. “I wouldn’t sell this place to a scumbag like you for twenty million!”

“Well, how about fifty million?” Preston asked coolly.

Stan froze, his eyes wide. He stared the billionaire down, trying to decide if he was bluffing. It sure didn’t seem like a bluff to Dipper. The boy knew the Northwests threw that kind of money around like it was nothing, because to them, it was.

“Not for a hundred million.” Stan said, although it was less of a defiant denial and more of a fishing offer, trying to gauge how high Preston was willing to go.

“How about a hundred and fifty million?” Preston offered.

“Higher.” Stan shook his head.

“Grunkle Stan!?” Dipper cried indignantly.

“Ah-ah!” Stan pushed him back without even turning to look. “Not now kid, the grownups are talking.”

“Two hundred million?” Preston asked, his cool smile starting to slip.

Stan shook his head. “Uh-uh. Higher.”

“Three hundred million?” Mr. Northwest ventured again through clenched teeth.

“Higher!”

“F-five hundred million?” 

“I’m thinking twice that much.”

“Seriously!?” Preston finally exploded. “You want a billion dollars for this--this hovel!?”

“Y’know what, you’re right.” Stan shook his head. “I’m not askin’ enough. Two billion!”

The Northwest patriarch looked like he very much wanted to strangle Stan.

“C’mon Northwest, I know you’re good for it!” Stan smirked.

“Absolutely not! Seven hundred and fifty million, and that’s my final offer!”

“Welp, my final offer’s still two billion, so you can either pony up or get off my porch.”

“....Fine.” Preston hissed, the veins in his forehead popping.

Stan stuck out his hand for Preston to shake, but as soon as the billionaire reached for it, the conman yanked it away.

“Psych!” Stan chortled. “Hah! I just wanted to see how far I could go before you chickened out! You couldn’t give me your whole dirty fortune for this place!”

It took Preston a moment to regain his composure. “I beg you to reconsider, Mr. Pines.” He said with a dangerous edge to his voice. “Take it from someone in the real estate business, property can lose value so quickly.”

“Yeah, the answer’s still no.” Stan said flatly. “Now get outta here. Don’t think I won’t call the cops!”

“I’m afraid you’ll find they’re busy at the moment. I just made a rather large donation so they’re holding a banquet. Even if you could pry them away from it, I doubt they’d be willing to arrest the man that just doubled their salary.”

“Oh, well, if you’re so sure the cops won’t be coming.” Stan pulled the gun out from behind his back.

Mr. Northwest finally backed off, although he shared a long glare with Stan before getting back into his limo. “This isn’t over, Pines!”

“Tell it to someone who cares!” Stan shouted after him.

Dipper looked up at his uncle with awe as he shut the door. “Grunkle Stan, that was awesome!”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah, don’t think I didn’t notice you actually thought I was gonna take his offer.”

Dipper blushed and laughed sheepishly.

The old conman sighed as he sat back down in his recliner. “Eh, guess I can’t blame you. I was actually tempted for half a second. Then I remembered that guy’s a lying cheating crook, and he wasn’t gonna actually pay anything for this place. Still, two billion dollars, wouldn’t that be somethin’!”

“Grunkle Stan, no amount of money is worth the end of the world as we know it.” Dipper reminded him sharply.

“I know that!” Stan retorted, insulted. “I’m just sayin’, if I’d been able to trick him outta that much, heh, that would’ve been the con of a lifetime.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Dipper stammered, taking up his watch at the window again. “I shouldn’t doubt you. I’m just… I’m just really worried, y’know. Bill’s using more and more people to try and get at the rift. The Northwests are the most powerful people in town. You got him to leave for now, but he’s probably gonna hire thugs or something.”

“I know you’re worried, kid.” Stan said sadly. “I wish you didn’t have to worry about all this junk, but at the very least, you don’t gotta worry about this. I’ve had to hole up against hired thugs in this Shack before. ‘Course, this time I’m not gonna be able to fake my death to get ‘em to give up and go home.”

Dipper grimaced. This conversation wasn’t really reassuring him. 

Stan sighed again. “Look, bud, I know Bill’s got a lot of people in his pocket, but time’s on our side, right? Eventually, that glue you found is gonna set, and then what’s he gonna do? Besides, you and your sister are going home next weekend anyway, and then you won’t have to worry about a thing.”

Dipper turned to look back at his uncle. “I’ll still worry about you. And Ford. And everyone else left here in Gravity Falls.”

Stan felt his heart swell when he realized how much the boy cared about him. It didn’t matter if he was safe, if his family was still in danger. Stan was all too familiar with that feeling, and he didn’t like the thought of this twelve-year-old kid being burdened with it.

“Well then, we’re just gonna have to figure something out then, aren’t we?”

[3hobbitsinatrenchcoat]

Soosly - Week 1 - Youth

Week 2 - Games -- Week 3 - Wisdom -- Week 4 - Family

Here I am on the last week of July with one complete entry for @soosly but by golly I had fun writing it.

----------

He woke up early the day after his birthday. Normally he would have laid about a little longer, shut his eyes and pretended his father had actually showed up, but not today. Today he had a job and someone that actually believed in him and trusted him.

Sure a lot of people thought Mr. Pines was crazy, but the Shack was just so cool. Soos couldn't wait to learn all of its intricate secrets.

With only a bit of flailing, Soos rolled out of bed and put on his brand new work shirt. It was a little big, but if he pulled a bit through a rubber band and rolled it up into itself it should stay put. A grin firmly on his face, he padded downstairs to grab breakfast on his way out the door.

“And where do you think you're going, young man?” His abuelita sat at the little dining table in the kitchen, calmly drinking her morning coffee and skimming some new home decorating magazine. Her tone was curious, not confrontational, but Soos knew he should be honest with her.

“Mr. Pines hired me as a handyman yesterday! I'm gonna go learn all the Shack's secrets!” Soos rummaged through the cabinets for a granola bar, missing the way his abuelita set down her magazine with a frown.

“Mr. Pines is a very busy man, dear. Are you sure he hired you and you didn't just mishear?” She watched her grandson tear into the packet of granola with a fond but exasperated expression.

“Sure did!” Soos said around a mouthful of oats and dried fruit. “Asked if I knew how to fix a toilet! Can't be any harder than the ones we have, right?”

Sophia sighed, draining the last of her coffee and pushing back from the table. “Alright then, angel. Let's get you to your first day of work.” At Soos' confused stare she let out a little laugh. “Did you think I would miss this? It's not far, I'll walk with you.”

The walk to the Mystery Shack was indeed short, Soos skipping ahead and full of energy. Sophia kept a smile on her face, but her mind was whirling. Stanford Pines had always been a bit of an odd duck as far as the town was concerned. Eight years of extremely antisocial self-isolation followed by a near-miraculous change in tone and a gaudy tourist trap? Everyone else may have eaten the story up, but she wasn't about to let her precious grandson become another casualty to a shyster's ego. One didn't go around the sun as many times as she had without some common sense, after all.

Arriving at the shack, Soos skipped right up to the gift shop door, knocking firmly just like Sophia had taught him. For a long moment there was no response and she had just opened her mouth to suggest they turn back and try later in the day when a frightful banging and scraping came from the other side of the door. It wrenched open and Stan Pines, bleary-eyed and haggard stared out at them.

“Eh, whats this?” he said, rubbing at his eyes. “We're closed, come back at 10.” He started to shut the door but Soos piped up.

“I'm here to work, Mr. Pines! You hired me yesterday.” Despite her unease, Sophia was proud of the way Soos' voice didn't waver.

“Did I?” Stan looked a little closer and his shoulders slumped as he took in the staff shirt Soos was so proudly wearing. “Alright, kid. I'll give it a shot, can't be worse than the last guy. Toolbox is under the register and the leaky toilet is the first door on the right of the bobblehead display. We can discuss pay and hours after you've proved you can fix stuff.”

Soos dashed past him into the shop with a “Thanks Mr. Pines! I won't let you down!” and Stan went from rubbing his eyes to massaging his temples. He'd been up all night with that damn journal again and he just did not have the brainpower to process this. The clearing of a throat brought him back to the present.

“Before you go using my grandson for child labor, we ought to have a chat, Stanford.” Sophia did not miss the flinch at the name, but she filed that information away for later. She pointed at a rickety rocking chair by the porch. “Have a seat before you fall over.”

Stan knew that behind her soft looks lurked a backbone made of steel, he'd heard the rumors about her son-in-law and husband as much as the next person in town. He sat and swallowed hard as she got up into his face.

“My little boy wants to work for you. I don't know why, but he respects and looks up to you. If you do anything to betray that respect I will come for you and you will not enjoy it.” She dusted off her hands as if dusting off her threat. Stan nodded. “Now that that is settled, you will pay him at least minimum wage and you will be mindful when dictating his hours that he is still a child. You might have to teach him a few things, but my boy is a quick study. Any questions?”

“No, Ma'am.” Stan's gaze met hers, wide but unflinching. “I get that he's a kid and I'm a little baffled that he wants to work for me but...” he laughed a little desperately. “I'm runnin' out of options. I can't say no to offered help, even if I don't remember asking for it. I promise I'll take care of the kid  as long as he wants to work here.”

“Good.” Sophia offered a hand out of the chair and Stan took it. “We have an understanding then.”

Stan nodded and then his gaze snapped back towards the gift shop mere seconds before a very damp but happy Soos stepped out onto the deck. “I found your problem, Mr. Pines! Just a loose bolt, tightened it back up and it's all good to go. Your last handyman really did a number on the poor thing though, I had to fix a lot of his mess before I found the problem...” his rambling ground to a halt, but his grin stayed as Stan chuckled.

“Good job, gumdrop. Let's see what else is on that to-do list, eh?” Stan ruffled Soos' hair and led him back inside. Sophia smiled after them, her boy would be just fine.

[drzewobojczyni]

@soosly week 4: Family

First time drawing Abuelita, I hope she is still recognisable. Somehow.

DeviantArt

[drzewobojczyni]

@soosly week 3: Wisdom

Mabel juice, the biggest mystery of them all.

DeviantArt

[drzewobojczyni]

@soosly week 1: Youth

Sorry for starting it angsty, I'll make next pieces more cheerful.

DeviantArt

[3hobbitsinatrenchcoat]

Soosly - Week 3 - Wisdom

Week 1 - Youth -- Week 2 - Games -- Week 4 - Family

Went a bit of an odd route with this @soosly prompt, but I feel like Stan would impart wisdom in a kind of... hands-on approach.

-----

He'd still been barely a teen the first time he stumbled to his after school shift at the shack with a split lip and watery eyes. Stan had taken one look at him and breathed out a string of half-uttered swears before shooing the few remaining customers from the shack and turning the sign to closed.

Soos was horrified and protested but Stan shrugged off his complaints. “There weren't any more showin' up today, kiddo. Come with me.” He set a gentle hand on Soos' shoulder and steered him through the shack to the kitchen, gently prodding him into one of the sturdy chairs by the table. Soos watched, a little numbly, as his boss gathered a damp rag and some ice. He plopped them down on the table, pulling another chair over by Soos.

A few long moments went past in silence as Stan wiped the blood away from his face and gave him a wrapped baggie of ice to hold on the swelling. Then he sat back and took in the rest of Soos' appearance. Clean hands, no other signs of struggle... Stan sighed. “Care to tell me who did this to you?”

Soos' eyes widened just the barest amount. “Nobody, Mr. Pines. I... I walked into a telephone pole.”

Stan couldn't stop the snort of disbelief that left his nose. “Sure kid, and that telephone pole left knuckle-marks on your jaw. Look,” he leaned forward to make eye contact. “I can tell just by looking at you that you didn't start whatever this was, I just wanna make sure you're ok. You ain't in trouble with me.”

“I...” Soos trailed off, wincing as his lip ached. “There's just some dumb kids at school. They don't like that I'm friendly with everybody and my hobbies are weird and I just live with my Abuelita. Today I didn't run away when I saw them and I told them that what they were saying wasn't very nice. Next thing I know...” he gestures at his face.

Stan's frown has deepened throughout the whole retelling. He stares hard at the kid and then nods to himself, coming to a decision. He reaches out and ruffles Soos' hair affectionately. “A wise man knows how to pick his battles, gumdrop, but a wiser man knows how to defend himself if the battles pick him.” With a quiet “oof” he pushes back from the chair. “Go home and rest up. Bring a change of clothes and plan on staying late tomorrow. Now shoo, I gotta make a couple calls.”

For once, Stan didn't lock himself in the basement far into the night. Instead he called in some favors. (After phoning Sophie Ramirez and informing her of her grandson's condition so she didn't have a nasty surprise in about five minutes.)

By the time Soos finished his shift the next day, Stan had set up everything he needed on the back porch. It wasn't much, just a sandbag and some beginner mitts, but it was better than nothing.

“You wanted to see me, Mr. Pines?” Soos poked his head out the back door, eyes wide and taking in the additions. “Hey, what's all this?”

Stan turned around from where he was surveying the hanging bag. “Yeah, I'm gonna teach you how to box. You might never have to throw a punch at another person, but being quick and strong enough to block a punch is better than nothing. Got the go-ahead from your Abuelita last night.”

Soos' eyes stayed wide but he dutifully padded out onto the porch and let Stan teach him how to firmly wrap his hands. They went over and over the motions until Stan was satisfied that the teen could reliably do it every time.

“Everyone thinks boxing is just about the punching and the brute strength,” said Stan as he wrapped his own hands in demonstration. “And yeah, sometimes it just comes down to that, but at the end of the day what it teaches you is quick and careful thinking. You can't always block that fist coming for your face, you need to dodge or redirect it.” He lightly thumped the side of Soos' head with a scarred knuckle. “What's up here isn't just for fancy math and reading.”

Satisfied that Soos wouldn't break his hands on the bag, Stan helped him up. He walked him through some basic footwork and how to properly jab one arm forward. “It's not about how much power you can push from your shoulders, you gotta put the whole weight of your body behind it or you'll end up breaking something.” Stan coached Soos through some simple drills and then lead him over to the bag. “I'll hold the bag this time, give it all you've got.”

Soos eyed the sandbag warily, but carefully aligned his stance before taking a deep breath and punching the bag as hard as he could. Stan felt the vibrations and nodded to himself, this kid had potential.

“That's my boy,” said Stan, a proud gleam in his eye. He allowed himself a single moment of thought, a single ray of wistful thinking that this strong, cheerful lad could have been his. Then he shook his head and gently prodded Soos's shoulder to correct his stance. “Now do it a few dozen more times.”

[3hobbitsinatrenchcoat]

Soosly - Week 2 - Games

Week 1 - Youth -- Week 3 - Wisdom -- Week 4 -Family

Second Prompt for @soosly and only a day late, haha. This one started out as a study in FCLORP culture and devolved quickly into what the heck Soos was wearing during weirdmageddon. I don’t even know anymore. Half the dialogue is lifted straight out of the show.

-----

Soos's life is full of the detritus commonly accumulated by nerds of his caliber. Comic books, video game cases, pose-able figures bought on impulse at conventions and then left in their boxes until a suitable shelf can be build. (A suitable shelf is almost never built.) The remnants of his latest FCLORP project lay across his bedroom floor: some duct-tape reinforced pauldrons and a really badass sword.

Many versions of this sword litter the room, actually. There are a few clearly made by Soos himself over the years, flimsy things made out of packing tape and shipping boxes held together by childish wishes and little else. A couple really nice foam and latex numbers are hung respectfully on the walls, only to be used in larger events. No way he was going to waste that sweet paint job on Toby.

Sometimes Soos remembers vividly how he got involved in the hobby. A big group from town had carpooled the nearly three hours to the Oregon Renaissance Festival the summer before he entered high school. He'd seen so many cool medieval things but the FCLORPers? They had been the absolute coolest.

He'd spent hundreds of hours since then taping together his own armor and joining the local group. They spent long weekend days waving their foam and cardboard weapons at each other and screaming increasingly nonsensical phrases at the top of their lungs.

Occasionally the group would go to big state-wide events. Even with his salary from the Mystery Shack, Soos really couldn't afford to create and maintain a stable character but there were other options available that seemed just as fun. He fell neatly into the role of helpful NPC, handing out valuable knowledge and staging ambushes with the rest of the staff. In a lot of ways it was  almost like he was back in the shack spinning tales for tourists on Stan's day off.

Soos wished for those golden afternoons now.

When the sky splits open above him, Soos spends several precious minutes staring in horror at the tear in the fabric of the universe. Then his instincts kick in and he's running for home, slamming the door behind him. His Abuelita pokes her head out of the kitchen with a frown.

“What is it, dear?” she says, wiping her hands off on a towel and stepping into the living room. “You're running like the devil himself is after you.”

“He might as well be,” pants Soos, scrambling over to the window to peer outside. “Aw man, I wish my armor was more durable. It sure would come in handy right now.” In the distance he can see Bill's “friends” pouring through the rip in the sky and he swallows shakily.

“What do I do? I'm not prepared for this.” He turns back to his Abuelita, who has a concerned look on her face but shakes her head.

“Do not ask yourself what to do, ask yourself what you can do right now. Don't you guide others during that cardboard knights game of yours?” She raises a single eyebrow at him and he can't help but chuckle.

“Of course. I do enjoy helping others find safety away from the monsters...” The ground shudders and he whips around to peer out the window again, sucking in a shocked breath as their grill grows legs and runs away. “AH! Abuelita!” He scrambles back from the window. “A tidal wave of madness just went over us!”

“Oh, Soos, such an imagination.” Her voice sounds different, slightly muffled, and Soos turns around with dawning horror. Where she had been standing is now a comfortable, doily-covered armchair... with a face.

“Ah, you've turned into a chair!”

All earlier sense of unease seems to be gone from Abuelita and she smiles placidly at him. “Why don't you have a seat and relax?”

Soos fights against the rising nauseous sense of horror. “What about you? And my friends?”

“I'll be fine,” she says, and Soos will never forget the uncanny horrible sight that is chair-Abuelita raising her arm. “Go and help the others.”

Shutting his eyes for one brief moment, Soos nods. Right. “When the universe is broken, only one handyman can fix it!” He lays a gentle kiss on what he hopes is the approximate area of his Abuelita's cheek, then spins away before she can see the tears in his eyes.

With a deep breath he grabs his oversized NPC robe from it's usual peg and steps out the front door to face the end times.

“I'm coming for you, friends!”

[stephreynaart]

@soosly​