4/3/24

Bill + Ford interaction draft

“If I ever had the fortune– well, perhaps misfortune– of laying eyes on a four-dimensional being, I think I’d draw it. Though I imagine it’s just an extrapolated 3D, is it not?”

“Bold of you to assume you’d perceive a 4D being as it appears to itself.”

“You’ve mentioned having origins in a 2D world, and you perceive me as three dimensional– so naturally–”

“You think I perceive you as three dimensional?”

Ford paused, “You don’t?”

“It’d take too long to explain to you the complexity of how I perceive your backwards realm.”

“Give me the synapsis.”

“Broken.”

“Fair enough.” Ford made a mental note to document that later.

3/7/24

unfinished older Dipper+Mabel fic that will likely never be expanded upon

Senioritis was ass. Dipper would rather plunge a knife into his abdomen and twirl it around than be forced to suffer even another month of school.

Mable said it was simply a crawl to the finish line–
“All you have to do is survive the next couple of weeks! What? You’re a 'top student! It’s not like they’re going to rescind their offers if you make one C.”
Dipper shuddered at the thought of making below a 90 on anything.

Though, as usual, Mabel was right– his accomplishments were undeniable:
A 1540 SAT score, 5 in AP studio art (Thanks Mabel!), 5 in AP Human Geography, 5 in AP World, 4 in AP Chem (He cried with relief that it wasn’t lower.), and a couple of volunteering hours had scored him offers from Berkley, West Coast Tech (Grunkle Ford called to congratulate him on this one), Caltech, and even Brown.
He had it made.
But he promised he wouldn’t go anywhere where Mabel didn’t get in. And Dipper promised not to break the promise. The pair have been practically stitched at the hip their whole lives and they’re stronger because of it. At this point Dipper wasn’t sure he’d survive if he was away from Mabel for more than a week. 

When Mabel got into RISD Dipper’s future was settled. --Brown was practically less than a five minute walk!

It took one more Saturday morning spent hunched over a desk filling in fifty questions worth of bubbles and it was over. The second the answer sheet was lifted from his desk, Dipper felt a sense of reprieve like no other. Every almost-suicidal thought he’d ever had washed off of him like sand in the ocean. The last final. The end of highschool and every ounce of suffering it entails.

Dipper walked out the doors of Piedmont High School a triumphant, unstoppable man.

…Or so he thought.
An unopened email hung ominously in his inbox.

PLEASE REVISE
admission@brown.edu

Dipper Pines,
After reviewing your portfolio, Brown University deems your submitted portfolio Insufficient for admission into entry level film class. 

Details for an adequate Visual Arts portfolio can be found here: https://admission.brown.edu/first-year/supplementary-materials

15 Image Requirement COMPLETED
Short-Film MISSING
(reminder: short film must be a minimum of 30 minutes)

Please submit updated portfolio by 8/31/18
or your position may be reconsidered by Brown University Administration.

 Please direct all questions to…

…What? Missing? 

Dipper’s Guide to The Unexplained was hardly the type of material Dipper felt comfortable submitting to the ivy leagues. 12 year old Dipper rambling incoherent junk about forest monsters and the blurriest, shakiest footage that shouldn’t have even been possible with a tripod? Yeah, no thank you.
But the mystery of Gravity Falls was the type of material that could take him from entry-level film class to film 101, if not make him eligible for scholarships. Never-Before-Seen clear footage of actual legendary creatures? Who needs the ivies with that on your resume?!

This didn’t need to be a setback, but an opportunity.

And he had…Until the end of summer.

…

Ah, summer break. A time for leisure, recreation, and takin er’ easy.
And a red-eyed ten hour car ride.
Sweet Caroline blasted at an ear-splitting volume from the van’s dusty radio. Mabel bounced up and down in the driver's seat, making sure to emphasize each ‘BOM BOM BOM’ as loudly as she possibly could.
Dipper gave up on his dreams of getting any sleep the moment he entered the vehicle. 
He officially got his license last year, but his parents still didn’t trust him to drive on the highways. Somehow, they decided Mabel was the better candidate.
It was technically her van, so she gets the final say in who drives. Dipper would argue that it was supposed to be both of their van, but the DIY redecorating of pink carpeting, flashing rainbow LED lights (probably illegal!), and plethora of boyband stickers plastered in random locations throughout the interior mark the property to the owner.

Mile after mile, bumpy road after bumpy road, the weight of the day caught up to Dipper and he decided if he didn’t sleep his eyes would roll out of their sockets. He thanked god that he didn’t forget to bring his noise-Canceling headphones. Putting them on, he was going to tell Mabel that it was okay if she needed to pull over and doze, but when he looked over, she was frighteningly awake, mouthing the words to a Katy Perry song like her life depended on it. Dipper wondered briefly if she’d accidentally taken a second dose of adderall. 
Slightly concerned, Dipper smiled, reclining his seat and playing rain sounds as loudly as his headphones would let him. 

Dipper awoke by a hand on his shoulder, shaking him back and forth. He begrudgingly opened his eyes and took off his headphones, ready to whine about how she never lets him sleep, before Mabel's arm struck out past him, pointing towards the passenger window. Dipper craned his head.

In the blue nighttime haze, the water tower loomed above even the tallest pine trees, standing erect in majestic grandeur. 

GRAVITY FALLS– the text on it read, greeting the twins. Instantly, Dipper felt more at home than he ever did in California. The azure sky illuminated briefly with the white glare of fireflies (Or was it fairies? Dipper could never tell.). He felt welcomed, as if Gravity Falls 
A pillar 
You belong here
Six summers of this and it somehow never got old.

…

3/7/24

UNFINISHED Ford + Stan arguing draft for a fic:

“Your theory is wrong, by the way.”
Ford snaps his neck around.
“What?”
“Weirdness magnetism, it’s wrong.”
“Stanley, what the hell are you talking about?”
For example, why would that even matter at a time like this?

“Magnets!”

Ford looks dumbfounded
“If you place two magnets next to each other, what happens?”
“They’re drawn towards each other–” Stan rolls his eyes as Ford speaks
“That’s wrong–”
“No it isn’t.”
“The opposite ends of magnets are drawn towards each other– the similar ends repel.
“Weird things aren’t attracted to Gravity Falls because Gravity falls is weird. And they aren’t attracted to Gravity Falls because it's outstandingly normal, either– that’s paradoxical. Your theory is wrong.”

“What are you even trying to say–?”

“I’M SAYING that I spent thirty years rebuilding your stupid portal all by myself! I’ve read 
Every crossed out word
And eluded the IRS 
I threw myself so deep into your nerd-world that I began to spot mistakes– obvious mistakes, oversights you made in your own dumb handwriting.
Stanford, I lied for a living– literally and figuratively! You think I can’t see right through my own brother!? That It’s not blatantly obvious to me that you’re lying? Oh my god. Look pal, either tell me what’s going on or you can shove this Antarctic fairytale up your ass.”

Ford’s fingers curl around his notepad intensely, stiff with the weight of Stan’s folded arms and frowning mouth.

“I– can’t.” It’s almost a whine.

“Why not?” Stan demands.

“You’re so happy. I want you to be happy, Stanley–” 

“You want to make me happy? Then be honest.”

“I–” Ford couldn’t bear Stan’s expectant glare any longer and broke eye contact, choosing to stare at the floor instead.

When he looked back up again, Stan was gone, the room was quiet and the cabin door swung lightly behind him.

“Stan– Stan I’m sorry–”