YOU ARE MABEL PINES.
You’re an ADOLESCENT. You’re a PROUD PIG PARENT. You’re a YOUTUBER. You’re an ONLINE BUSINESS OWNER. You’re a SWEATER WEARER, and can make one in FIVE MINUTES FLAT. (You had DIPPER time it. Three times.)
You are also CLINICALLY DIAGNOSED as autistic with a pending evaluation for ADHD, and you’re contemplating asking your parents about getting a THERAPIST because you’re pretty sure you might be LEGITIMATELY TRAUMATIZED, but that’s besides the point.
YOU ARE MABEL PINES.
(AND YOU MOST CERTAINLY DO NOT HAVE SUPPRESSED, MAYBE NOT SO IMAGINED THOUGHTS ABOUT ONE OF YOUR BEST FRIENDS. YOU KNOW, THE ONE WITH THE NICE DRESSES AND CUTE DOG. NO SIR.)
You are MABEL PINES, and today your friends, CANDY, GRENDA, and GRENDA’S PET IGUANA, LIZZY (Short for LIZARD, of course) are all gathered at the MYSTERY SHACK to watch the various LIVE BROADCASTS of the ANNUAL NORTHWEST FEST, the unequivocally BIGGEST PARTY OF THE YEAR.
(Any and all parties involving one TONY STARK are extreme outliers and are not counted. Up to and including business gatherings which he shows up to in armor. YES, that time.)
Then, strangely enough (as if sent by some higher, vaguely amphibian intelligence), THE NORTHWEST HEIRESS HERSELF joins you all in the attic.
Now this would be all well and dandy.
It’s just that THE HEIRESS IN QUESTION also happens to be THAT FRIEND WITH THE NICE DRESSES AND THE CUTE DOG. YOU KNOW THE ONE. (The one you don’t talk about.)
Haha, whoops.
“So there may or may not be a way for you to get into that party now, Mabel,” DIPPER helpfully announces to the room, already starting to gather materials on his desk. Journal, EMS Sensor, that one jar of goop they found from the old fishtank. (Don’t ask. Ghostly fish are almost as bad as the zombie ones.)
“We’ve got a ghost thing to deal with back at my place.” PACIFICA clicks her tongue, COMPOSED AND UNBOTHERED. “Yeah, we just need some extra eyes and crowd control, and if that means putting in a few more invites it’s like- whatever. It’s not a big deal.”
She hammers out some NO DOUBT IMPORTANT TEXT on her ROSE GOLD iPHONE. (So shiny. So refined. Give it some glitter and it would be PERFECT.)
“Besides, the whole thing is 90% old people anyway,” she continues. “I don’t want to slowly die of boredom the whole night.”
You frown with just a bit of concern. This is, after all, the NORTHWEST FEST we’re talking about, and if the NORTHWEST FAMILY hates anything more, it’s THE POORS. AKA, ANYTHING LESS THAN A MILLIONAIRE.
(And even they were low-class. No well-diversified party would settle for just them in the mix.)
“Are your parents gonna be okay with that?” You pointedly ask. “Even if we say you hired us, we’re not exactly…”
“...refined company,” CANDY finishes as she puts chili powder onto a plate of disassembled OREO COOKIES.
“MAYBE YOU AREN’T!” Grenda cheerfully bellows, raising her fists to the sky in her glee. “PAR-TAY!”
PACIFICA falters at your question but quickly recovers with a knowing laugh. “This isn’t my first time bullshitting background checks, Pines. I’ve got you covered.”
She points at CANDY. “Concert pianist and musical prodigy.”
“That’s so true,” CANDY whispers with awe. “I do have a musical prodigy.”
She turns her gaze to GRENDA. “... Bouncer. Maybe even bodyguard. I could spin you as a young Olympic athlete in training.”
GRENDA whoops.
PACIFICA waves a hand at you. “You’re easy. Content creator, independent designer, and social media influencer. I’d barely even have to make anything up.”
You do not blush. SHUT IT, DIPDOP. You see his INSUFFERABLY KNOWING SMUG FACE in the corner.
“And I was apparently in the paper, so my credentials speak for themselves,” DIPPER fills in proudly, walking back towards the group. (Since apprenticing with GRUNKLE FORD, he’d really gotten a confidence boost. You were happy he’d hit his stride.)
“I think Ford’s covered, what with his 12 PhDs and super sciency speech.” DIPPER hums. “But we might need Stan and McGucket, and your parents already kind of hate them. Not sure how to spin that-”
“GREAT NEWS, EVERYONE!”
Ah, speak of THE SALTY, WRINKLY, LOVABLE DEVIL HIMSELF.
“WE’RE RANSACKING THE RICH TONIGHT! PACK YOUR BAGS!”
Good ol’ STANLEY PINES. A real upstanding citizen. You’d trust him in your household, for sure.
PACIFICA facepalms. “Context, old man.”
GRUNKLE STAN barks a loud laugh. “Geez, alright. No jokes allowed, I guess. Tough crowd.” The RECKLESS, CRIMINAL SMILE does not leave his face for a second. “So you know how the guests at that rich guy party in the hills can bring their own plus ones?”
CANDY makes a thoughtful noise. “I remember that. People were making bets on who the extra people would be.”
STANLEY’S MANIC GRIN only grows larger. “Remember good ol’ Uncle Az?”
NO WAY.
NO FLIP-FLOPPIN’ WAY.
STAN snickers. “His Radiance got an invite, and he just- you know how he is-”
He mimics AZ’S odd sing-song voice, opening and closing his hand as he speaks.
“Stanley, I don’t know how human parties work, they gave me these extra invites, what am I supposed to do with this, and I said he’s supposed to bring other important people and he went, well you and Fiddleford are important for me because of that portal project, right? I’ll just bring you-”
You can in fact imagine AZ doing exactly that. OH NO.
STAN laughs again. “And he was so sincere and shit about it that I couldn’t say no!” He coughs awkwardly into his fist. “So anyway, your Uncle Stan is walking into a rich person party. I will make sure to steal only the things no one will miss.” He leans forward and winks, cupping his hand around his mouth. "At least, not until they notice it’s gone.”
DIPPER snorts.
“That covers that, then, I guess,” PACIFICA says. She looks out at the rest of you. You feel THE MORTIFYING ORDEAL OF BEING KNOWN. “But I’m going to need your pictures to update the guest book. And we have a dress code. The event opens at five and I need you on sight by 3:00. Think you can handle that?”
“Yes,” you respond. “Definitely. Absolutely!”
THE TIME IS NOW NOON PRECISELY.
>SWITCH CHARACTER?
>[YOU ARE BRUTUS BENJAMIN BUTLER.]
>[YOU ARE FIDDLEFORD HADRON MCGUCKET.]
>[YOU ARE STANLEY PINES.]
>[YOU ARE STANFORD PINES.]