“On this episode of Ghost Harassers…”

Dipper Pines lounged on the plaid armchair in the living room as he watched a special marathon of his favorite television show. The Mystery Shack was usually thriving on kinetic energy, mostly from the built-in unscrupulous tourist trap operated by Stanley Pines, but this day was a rare exception. Mabel had taken Waddles to the pet store to buy more pig-friendly toys, Ford was busy conducting more research in the basement, and Grunkle Stan was probably engaging himself in Grunkle Stan-like things (which more often than not involved illegal activities), leaving Dipper to chill out on the couch for the day.

He didn’t mind. The calm, quiet, solitude was somewhat of a welcome reprieve actually. He loved his family more than anything, but that didn’t mean they weren’t boisterous enough to occasionally give him a headache.

The TV screen flashed images of a white and red Coloradoan lodge that Dipper recognized from The Shining . A faceless narrator declared that it was the inspiration behind the story, a little place called The Stanley Hotel.

“Huh, Grunkle Stan shares the same name as the real-life inspiration for the Overlook Hotel.” Dipper mused. “I bet he’d get a real kick outta that bit of trivia.”

Dipper had watched the two ghost hunters explore the mountainside hotel before, but the recent revelations over his Grunkle’s history brought a new and interesting light to this particular episode. Dipper took a sip from the litre bottle of Pitt soda and relaxed back on the giant fluffy pillow adding an extra layer of cushioning between him and the couch. The opening credits had wrapped up, and the twelve-year-old was more than ready to revisit this installment of Ghost Harassers .

Just when the episode was about to begin, the screen suddenly flickered, changing into a montage of two babies ‘fighting’ in a boxing ring. Dipper scoffed as the opening title sequence of Baby Fights started playing.

“Scoot over kiddo.”

Dipper could recognize that gravelly voice anywhere. He turned towards his left and saw his underwear-clad Grunkle Stan standing before the couch, the remote in one hand and a rolled-up newspaper in the other. He scowled.

“What the heck, Grunkle Stan? I was watching something important you know.”

“Well I found something better that we can watch together,” Stan grunted. “Now, move it, kid.”

“Of course, because nothing brings the family together like a ‘reality show’ that shamelessly exploits infants for cheap entertainment,” Dipper muttered under his breath.

Within seconds, a rolled-up newspaper was whacking him hard on the head. Dipper grimaced.

Any time he complained or back talked Stan, a rolled-up newspaper seemed to find it’s way to his head, painfully. He’d gotten pretty used to it over the summer, and after exploring Stan’s mindscape he sort of got where the old guy was coming from, trying to toughen him up and all, but that didn’t mean the blows hurt any less. That didn’t mean Dipper wasn’t still being punished like a dog. He rubbed the back of his now throbbing head. A punishment like that was painful and demeaning. It hurt.

Naturally, Stan didn’t seem to notice, or care, about any of this. He picked Dipper up by the back of his vest like a kitten and placed him on the armrest of the chair, settling his butt down where Dipper had been sitting only moments ago.

Dipper felt his teeth grind together. Seriously?

Stan must’ve noticed something then because he said, “Come on kid, there’s no need to act like a Negative-Nancy. This is quality entertainment here!” He gave Dipper a playful elbow nudge and a mischievous smile. “The fight looks pretty promising, eh?”

Dipper, arms crossed, face turned away, practically growled. “Sure.”

“Jeez, why the heck are you actin' so grumpy?” Stan asked with a huff.

“You barged right in, changed the channel, and took my seat for starters.” Dipper argued.

“My house, my rules, kiddo.”

“And you keep hitting me with that stupid newspaper of yours.”

Stan dismissed this with an easy wave of his hand. “Eh, it’s good for ya,” he explained. “Straightens ya out.”

Dipper’s face was burning. He could practically feel the white-hot steam blowing out of his ears as he shouted back. “With borderline child abuse ?”

“What!” Stan exclaimed. He looked genuinely shocked. “Where the heck did ya get an idea like that from? Doesn’t your dad ever smack some sense into ya?”

Dipper froze, the heat inside him dissipating for a moment. “I...no. No, Grunkle Stan. My dad would never lay a hand on me or Mabel.”

Did Stan seriously believe that hitting a kid was a healthy form of parenting? Was that why he was always hitting Dipper with a newspaper? But why not Mabel? Although Dipper was extremely glad Stan didn’t whack Mabel when she needed ‘some sense smacked into her’. He’d fight the old man if he ever tried to do that. But still, why just Dipper?

Whoa there. That kind of thinking had led Dipper to some dark places in the past. Stan loved him, he knew that, but he’d also learned both Stan and Ford had grown up in a dysfunctional family, with a hard to impress father. After Stan admitted to wrecking Ford's science fair project to showcase the West Coast Tech board, his father disowned his younger son and threw him out on the streets before the poor boy had the chance to finish up high school. The man had clearly been a tough guy, and from what Dipper had heard in one of Stan’s memories, had been especially tough on Stan growing up. Could Stan’s father have…

“Did...did your dad do that to you when you were a kid?” Dipper hesitated. Child abuse was a poignant subject matter. Dipper learned that firsthand from Pacifica Northwest during their encounter with the lumberjack ghost. He remembered the pained look on her face after her father humiliated her into silent submission with the simple ring of a bell. Dipper didn’t want to trespass on anything Stan wasn’t ready to talk about. “Did he used to, um…’smack some sense into you’?”

While Dipper expected Stan to get mad, what he hadn’t expected was another hit on the head. But that’s exactly what happened. Stan bopped the bill of Dipper’s blue hat down in front of his eyes, a clear sign that he needed to mind his own business.

At that moment Dipper snapped.

In a quick lunge that sent his hat flying, the boy yanked the newspaper from Stan’s grip and smacked it on the side of his grunkle's head. Hard enough to send his fez and thick-rimmed glasses tumbling to the floor.

Deafening silence fell upon the living room, only broken by Dipper’s heavy breaths. He was still poised on the chair, arm raised back, ready to smack Stan again with the newspaper clenched in his fist.

Slowly, Stan raised a hand up to his head and rubbed at the red mark that had formed from the blow. His gaze wandered over to where his hat and glasses had fallen, and then crawled back up to Dipper. Under normal circumstances, Dipper had a feeling Stan would be immensely proud of his strength and assertion, but all Dipper could see looking in Stan’s eyes now was a man completely and utterly stunned. Paralyzed.

Good, Dipper thought, I’m done being nice. But he felt his arm waver a bit.

“Why the hell didn’t you answer my question!?” he roared, satisfied when Stanley flinched.

“Dipper, what happened to me in the past isn’t important--”

“It is to me, Grunkle Stan! Your behavior is scaring me! If your Dad hit you when you were younger, why do you imitate his behavior? What makes you think that employing his tactics on me would be a good thing?”

“Could ya stop interrogatin’ me for one second?!” Stan shouted. He shut his eyes tight, wanting to drop the uncomfortable conversation all together.

“Not until after you tell me why you keep hitting me with a newspaper!” Dipper, to his immense horror, heard his voice crack. “I’m not your pet! You can’t just hit me every time I disobey you or-or do something you don’t like! That’s not how it works! You can’t train me to respect you!”

Stan’s eyes were definitely open now. Wide open, and sorrowful. “Dipper, you know that I care about ya. But you have to understand that this world is a cold, cruel and unforgiving place. I only want what’s best for you, and your sister. That’s why I’m tryin’ to toughen you up, so you can survive out there.”

“Okay, so all you wanted was for me to develop some thick skin…” Dipper’s hands were trembling where they gripped the newspaper. “Congratulations. You did it. I learned to defend myself and Mabel from against the supernatural creatures that lurk around here, and I beat up Gideon after he attempted to kidnap my sister with his giant robot.”

Dipper's breathing continued to intensify before he shouted, “Why couldn’t you have just told me that in the first place?!”

Stan, for the first time ever, had nothing to say. He could only look at his nephew with a dumbfounded expression.

“I always thought you hated me, you know,” continued Dipper. “The way you treat me, always way harder on me than anyone else. Yeah, I noticed. I always get hit with the newspaper. I always get stuck doing the hard chores. I never even get so much as a ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ or a ‘good job, Dipper. I’m p-proud of you.’ ”

His voice was shaking almost as much as his hands. “D-Don’t you ever stop and think about how that feels? Don’t you know how much you’re hurting me? For so long, I t-thought I--I-I hated you. I hated you, Grunkle Stan.”

Dipper quickly swiped an arm across his face, catching the tears that had formed in his eyes. Having an emotional outburst in front of his Grunkle Stan was bad enough, but there was no way Dipper’s pride would recover from the humiliation of crying in front of him.

Dipper felt more than saw Stan’s hand reach forward and pat gently on his shoulder. “Dipper--”

He pushed Stan’s hand away with the newspaper, letting the rolled-up paper fall into his Grunkle’s feet. “No, I don’t want to hear any more of your excuses,” Dipper spat thickly. He had to get out of here, before the water works really kicked in. “Just leave me alone!”

Dipper made a blind beeline for the front door. He heard joints cracking--Stan trying to get up and follow him--but by the time he’d reach the front porch, Dipper would be far out of sight, hidden behind shadowy trees.

He ignored his great uncle’s cries for him to come back. Instead, swallowing the lump in his throat, rubbing desperately at his eyes, Dipper delved deeper into the forest.

Despite the tears blinding his vision, the boy picked up speed as he sprinted past the row of pine trees, which served as the fortress that separated nature from civilization. He needed respite from the intense confrontation with Stan, a place where he could safely release his emotions without the fear of being judged. Dipper had retreated into the woods on a number of occasions; The time Stan and Mabel took their jabs at Dipper’s ‘unmanliness’ too far at the diner, when they joked about his supposedly short stature, the other instances in which he needed to take a break from the hectic nature of the Mystery Shack and life in general. The boy used the more tranquil part of the forest as his personal sanctuary.

In the heat of his escape, his right foot was caught underneath the root of a tree, causing him to stumble. Fortunately, Dipper was able to catch himself in time by landing his left foot on the ground before pushing himself forward. Upon freeing his right foot, the adventurous boy continued to run further into the woods with some extra precaution.

Dipper was unaware of how long he had been running. He could run an entire marathon if he wanted to. But the boy needed a place to rest and heal himself in peaceful solitude. As he traveled further into the woods, his ears heightened upon hearing the calming sound of water rolling down the stream.

He slowed down his pace and soon discovered a small brook nestled within the enormous evergreen trees. Dipper took in his serene surroundings and felt a small warming glow within himself. He decided to stop for a spell in the inviting refuge. The boy found a small boulder by the stream that was large and plopped himself on his newly-acquired seat.

He placing his elbows on his knees, he used his hands to prop his head up and exhaled. Dipper looked at the flowing stream and caught his shaky, barely visible reflection staring back at him. He felt the tears beginning to resurface. There was not another soul in this neck of the woods. The great pine trees protected him with their sturdy branches and intimidating stature, shielding him from the outside world. He needed a place to think things through, to release all of the stress and strain that he had pent up. Dipper somberly looked on at pristine stream as he allowed himself to shed his tears.

Just when I thought I couldn’t be an even bigger fuck-up, I can’t even look after those kids properly…

Stan laied on his mattress with a forlorn frown, pondering the intense burst of rage that’d come from his nephew. He took what Dipper told him into deep consideration as his mind revisited all of the horrid memories of his abusive father.

It was difficult growing up with a no-nonsense father who was hard to please. The pawn shop owner always appeared emotionless, save for the anger and spite he kept hidden behind his dark sunglasses. Filbrick Pines regularly exercised his aggression out on his two sons whenever they acted out of line or failed to live up to his high expectations. The latter posed as a difficult challenge for young Stanley Pines. His twin brother Stanford excelled in academics to the point where he was labelled as a prodigy. Whenever Ford brought home a trophy or medal from the annual Spelling Bee or Mathlete competition, the old man would give him some subtle compliment like a pat on the back or a ‘good job’ . As happy as Stan was for his brother, he knew that the bar was set impossibly high in terms of stunning his father.

Throughout his youth, Stanley desperately wanted praise and validation from Filbrick. But whenever little Stan showcased his old man one of his drawings or tried to tell him a funny joke, all he got in return was a deep frown and a cold ‘I’m not impressed’ . Filbrick rejected Stan’s attempts to make him smile or have him showcase some fatherly affection.

Stan shifted his position on the bed and his gaze wandered over towards his nightstand, where a rolled up newspaper laid dormant. He remembered Dipper’s emotion-fueled tirade as well as all of the times he used the newspaper on his nephew. If Dipper hadn’t called Stan out on his behavior, the conman would not have thought he treated the boy terribly. Now he felt shivers travel down his spine at the sight of the newspaper. Stan shuddered as he recalled his father’s disciplinary tactics.

Every time Stan complained about doing a particular chore or smart-mouthed in front of his parents, Filbrick would silently smack his son’s head with a rolled up newspaper. If Stan made a big mess in the house or received a bad report card from school, his father would give him something worse. Sometimes it was a slap across the face, other times it was a few hard lashings on his bottom from the leather belt. For all of the abuse Stanley endured from his father, he never once questioned it. He assumed that the old man was just prepping him for the brutalities of the real world. Filbrick even ingrained into his son’s impressionable mind that the harsh treatment he received was justified...

“Stop your cryin’ kid.”

A teary-eyed Stanley Pines soothed the stinging red mark on his right cheek. The ten-year-old boy brought home an F on the big science test he promised to pass. Upon learning of the less-than-stellar grade Stan received on the test, his father rolled up his morning newspaper and gave his youngest son a hard smack across his face. The boy was used to his father hitting his head with the newspaper whenever he was told to wisen up. But his father’s rough hit across his face caused the boy to lose his grip over his emotions.

“Do ya wanna grow up to be some lazy-ass bum who mooches off of government welfare?” He seethed. “Well do ya, ya little pansy?!”

“N..n-n-no Pa…” Stan sniffled as he wiped away the snot dripping from his nose. He wiped the excess of mucus on his shirt as he continued to receive the stern talk from his father.

“Then you have to learn how to smarten up and man up kid.” Filbrick responded coldly. “The world is cruel place filled with crueler people who aren’t gonna show any mercy to some sniveling little shit like yourself. So you better wisen up and put some fuckin’ effort into your school work like your brother, ya hear?”

Stanley quivered at his Pa's profanity-fueled lecture. The boy wished his father would realize how difficult it was to focus in class as well as how challenging the homework could get. But he knew that it was a snowball’s chance in hell that Filbrick would take time out of his day to understand what Stan was going through. His father was already busy running the pawn shop and putting bread on the table. His breath caught in his throat, releasing an ugly sob. Why couldn’t Stan understand the material and get good grades like Ford? Why couldn’t he make his father proud of him for once?

Stanley shamefully lowered his head in submission as he quietly answered his father’s inquiry. "Y-yes Pa..."

For years, Stan Pines assumed that it was the normal way families functioned. Even though he grew up watching family-oriented movies sitcoms such as Leave it to Beaver, his father dismissed them as nothing more than manufactured fairy tales. Stan also thought that the abuse he received from his father was only a form of tough love. Those boxing lessons Filbrick forced upon him were solid proof of that. Worst of all, after Stanley was thrown out of the house, he believed that he deserved it for having wrecked Ford’s project. He never once assumed that it was a harsh overreaction from his brash father.

But after hearing how Dipper had a much healthier home life back in California, Stanley finally realized the err of his ways. The more the con man thought of the times he hurt his nephew with the newspaper, the more he realized that he was imitating Filbrick’s horrific treatment.

Stan only wanted to help Dipper strengthen his muscles and boost his self-confidence by performing challenging tasks around the house. To give the kid the chance to prove himself and bolster his self-esteem the way boxing improved Stan's spirits. The old man thought that bopping the boy’s head the same way his father did would motivate the kid to do his best, but all it ever did was damage their relationship.

Now he was certain that Dipper still hated him because of his harsh and tactless treatment.

The last thing Stanley Pines wanted was to become like his father. Ford’s quip from the evening of his return solidified Stan’s physical resemblance, much to his displeasure. But the brash behavior he used into his treatment of Dipper only confirmed that he resembled one of Filbrick’s more frightening aspects.

Stan already let so many people down in the past. His father, Rico and his criminal associates, Soos (mostly for not meeting the ridiculously high expectations from his fantastical fan-fictions), and his brother. He couldn’t process the thought of having let Dipper down as well.

Stanley truly loved his nephew with all of his heart. Dipper had proved himself to be a brilliant, sarcastic, active and valiant person, even braver than Stan was at his age. But above all, the boy wanted nothing more than validation and praise for his efforts, something Stanley desired during his youth.

Wait a minute…

Stan suddenly thought of a way to salvage their Grunkle-nephew relationship.

“I gotta fix this.” Stan muttered to himself as he got up from the bed and left his room. If Stan wanted to improve his relationship with Dipper, he needed to own up to his mistakes and make a genuine effort to be a more loving Grunkle.

I owe Dipper an apology...

Dipper managed to return to the Mystery Shack just before sundown. After spending some time by the creek to pull himself together, the boy explored the woods as a way to calm himself. He loved adventuring through the woods and sought comfort in its serene surroundings. Dipper was truly going to miss the forest once he and Mabel return to Piedmont. The provincial Californian suburb had nothing on the wondrous woods of the Pacific Northwest.

After spending many hours of running and walking through the forest, Dipper felt most of his anger dissipate, replaced with a sense of ease and tranquility. As he approached the shack, he realized that he needed a little more time to compose himself before he could face his family again. His day was already terrible and he didn’t want to make it worse by having another outburst.

When he entered the shack, Dipper was met with a most precious sight: Mabel and Waddles were sprawled on the living room floor among the abundance of small colorful pet toys. The pig rolled a bright green ball with his nose, causing Mabel to giggle. Even Dipper smiled at Waddles engaging himself with his toys. The pink pet caught a glimpse of Dipper and happily greeted him with a delightful squeal. Mabel looked up from Waddles and gazed at her brother. The girl grinned with excitement at the sight of her sibling.

“Hiya bro-bro!” Mabel said joyfully while waving enthusiastically at him. Dipper pushed back his negative emotions to give his sister a small smile and a nod.

“Where were you? I wanted us to watch Soos’s show on the Gravity Falls public access channel, but I couldn’t find you in time.”

“Oh, sorry Mabel.” Dipper apologized.

“Don’t worry about it broseph.” Mabel replied, easily forgiving him. But her brother still appeared to be apprehensive. Her smile slowly vanished. She got up from the floor and leaned on the doorway to give her brother some space. “Dipper, what’s wrong?” She asked concernedly.

The boy slightly faltered when he gazed into his sister’s kind eyes. He didn’t want to get into the gritty details of his heated argument with Stan, but he didn’t want to shut her out either. “I just got into a dumb fight with Grunkle Stan.” Dipper answered. “I just need more time to sort things out myself. If you need me, I’ll be up on the roof.”

Mabel nodded, respecting her brother’s wishes as she pondered to herself. Her eyes lit up when she thought of a way to help her brother out. The girl quietly followed her twin down the hall and into the empty gift shop, where he was walking towards the front desk. Dipper approached the ladder that led towards the roof so he could find some solitude underneath the vast Oregon sky.

“Dipper,”

The boy turned around and his face softened when he saw Mabel standing by the checkout desk.

“You want me to get you some hot cocoa later on?” She kindly inquired.

Dipper truly appreciated his sister’s willingness to provide any kind of aid to lift his spirits. He was grateful that she had his back, just like he had hers. “Sure.” He replied, giving his sister a genuine smile. “Thanks Mabel.”

“No problem bro-bro.”

It was already night time when Stan pushed the roof door above him and began to ascend the top tier rungs of the ladder. His joints wailed in agony as he slowly reached the top of the Mystery Shack all while keeping Dipper’s mug of hot cocoa from spilling. Before Stan began his climb up the ladder from the gift shop, Mabel stopped him and asked if he could bring a warm cup of hot chocolate she had made for her brother. The con man smiled at his niece and obliged. He, too, believed that Dipper would need probably need some nourishment after running around the woods all day.

As Stan finally stood up on the wooden roof, he noticed his nephew perched near the edge of the roof. His head was tilted upwards as he silently gazed at the multitude of stars above him. The old man started to walk towards where Dipper was sitting.

Unfortunately, he heard a loud creak from underneath his foot, causing the boy to look around.

“Oh,” Dipper exhaled, sounding somber. “Hey Grunkle Stan.”

Stan felt his heart plummet upon hearing his nephew’s disappointed tone. Nervousness coursed through Stan’s veins, figuring out how to approach the boy without angering him. After a moment of pondering the old codger walked closer to the boy, hoping to have a peaceful discussion after their heated argument from earlier.

“Hey kiddo...so, uh, how are ya feeling?”

Dipper simply shrugged his shoulders. The boy clearly wasn’t feeling any better.

Stan felt that he needed to step up his game in order to mend his relationship with his nephew. “So Mabel made you your hot cocoa. She wanted me to bring it up here and give it to you.” He offered Dipper the steaming cup that overflowed with excessive toppings.

“Thanks…” Dipper replied softly, gingerly taking the mug from his Grunkle’s hands, making sure that the overabundance of toppings didn’t fall off. After silently inspecting the beverage for a few moments, he took a small sip and a warm smile graced his features. Dipper knew that Mabel concocted the hot cocoa with too many marshmallows and extra amounts of love. His lips touched the brim of the mug and took a considerably larger sip.

After Dipper drank a decent amount of his hot cocoa, Stan decided to engage in some small talk before delving into the elephant in the room. “What’s the verdict?” Stan asked.

“Great as always.” Dipper replied, nodding at his Grunkle.

The businessman smiled. “You sure she didn’t put any plastic dinosaurs in that drink?” He joked, hoping to lighten the mood.

“Nah.” Dipper responded lightly, shaking his head. “She only puts those in Mabel Juice.” The boy immediately took another swig of the warm beverage. It wasn’t the response Stan was expecting, but it was better than a harsh answer, or no answer at all.

After Dipper finished his hot cocoa, the uncomfortable silence settled in. The boy continued to search for constellations in the sky. Stan, on the other hand, took his right hand and nervously scratched the back of his head while his other hand anxiously drummed on the roof shingles. The conman normally had a way with words, which greatly bolstered his career as a professional scammer. But now his words had abandoned him when he needed them most and he found it difficult to have a genuine discussion with Dipper.

The elder Pines needed to find a way to ease into the heavy topic that weighed down on him and the boy. A poor choice of words or a misconstrued statement could easily ruin his chances at salvaging the Grunkle-nephew bond. Stan finally decided to address what was most important.

“So, uh...listen, Dipper,” Stan began to speak, looking straight into Dipper’s eyes. “I’m sorry for hurtin’ ya this past summer…”

Despite the darkness surrounding them, Stan could notice the sadness glistening in the boy’s eyes. The conman soldiered on. “I’m sorry for hittin’ you with the newspaper, taking my jokes too far, lying to you and Mabel about my past, and for not being the responsible caretaker I should have been.”

Stan paused for a brief moment. He decided it would be best to emphasize the other issue that Dipper brought up. “And to answer your question from earlier: Yeah, my Pops did hit me alot when I was a kid. While it did hurt, I thought that he was trying to toughin’ me up and prepare me for what the real world had in store…” Stan shuddered as he exhaled, trying not to break down as he ventured into the uncomfortable territory. “I honestly thought all of the horrible things he did and said to me was just normal parenting. Hell, I took everything my Pa said to heart and I genuinely believed that I was nothing but a failure…”

Stanley stopped when he realized that tears were forming in his eyes and were close to falling. As much as Stan wanted to hide the emotions he bottled up for too long, there was no way he could lie to his nephew again. Dipper deserved an honest apology. Stan used his hand to wipe away the tears as he continued.

“But the treatment I received growin’ up doesn’t excuse the way I harmed you. I was wrong to have treated you the way I did, and I promise that I will never hurt you again.”

Dipper listened to his Grunkle’s apology. The boy had been very skeptical of Stan before, even to the point where his trust in him was once broken. But despite Stan’s notoriety as a criminal mastermind and compulsive liar, Dipper was able to realize those rare occasions in which his Grunkle’s honesty and sincerity had shown through.

Dipper scooted closer to Stan. With one hand, the boy gently rubbed the old man’s back in soothing ministrations. Dipper took his Grunkle’s large hand into his and gave it a loving squeeze. “It’s okay Grunkle Stan...I forgive you.”

Grunkle Stan looked over at his side and saw Dipper smiling at him. The conman gave the boy a tearful smile in return. “Thanks kiddo.” Stan lifted up his hand and tousled Dipper’s head. After seeing Dipper’s heartfelt grin, the conman wrapped his arm around the boy and pulled him closer to his side. The elder Pines felt that he needed to say one more important thing to his nephew.

“I’m also sorry for not giving you the respect you deserve kiddo. I thought that giving you all of the hard chores would have helped make you stronger, but I guess it made you hate me..."

Dipper squeezed his Grunkle's hand tighter. "I don't hate you. And I don't mind doing all of those chores now, honestly. I've gotten better at chopping up firewood."

Stan sighed in relief. Guess that helping Dipper grow more confident proved to work after all. "I'm glad to hear it kiddo, cause this summer alone you proved to be one of the bravest and strongest people I met. And I mean it. You’ve come a long way and I’m proud of you."

The businessman looked to his nephew and saw the gentle smile on his face. It warmed Stan’s heart to see the happiness swirling in Dipper’s eyes upon feeling validated and wanted.

Stan smiled back at his nephew. He then cleared his throat, preparing himself to not screw up what he had to say next.

"And I want you to know that I love you."

Dipper’s eyes widened. The boy knew that when push came to shove, Stanley Pines cared about family more than anything. Although Dipper and Stan started off on the wrong foot, the boy realized that his Grunkle cared about him and his sister more than he was willing to let on. And to hear those words from Stan brought great comfort to Dipper.

“I love you too Grunkle Stan.” Dipper replied with the same sentiment.

Stanley chuckled. He let go of his nephew's hand and gave him an affectionate noogie. Dipper laughed along with his Grunkle, their cheerful voices echoing through the forest.

The two sat together on the roof in peaceful silence for a while. Stan was relieved to have mended his bond with his nephew. Dipper was glad that his Grunkle understood his concern and that they were able to talk it out. They both looked up to the sky, admiring the brightly illuminated stars above them. Dipper was searching for familiar constellations when he remembered what he wanted to tell Stan.

“Oh! Grunkle Stan, there’s something you need to know!”

Stan turned his attention towards the twelve-year-old. “What is it?”

“Okay, I’m certain you’re aware of The Shining, right?” Dipper asked.

“Yeah, that movie scared the crap outta me when I first saw it.” Stanley responded, slightly confused as to where the conversation was going.

“So apparently the Overlook Hotel is based on an actual mountain resort in Colorado called the Stanley Hotel. Stephen King, the author of the book, was inspired to write the story after his visit there.”

“Really?” Stan asked, intrigued by his nephew’s out of nowhere piece trivia.

“Yep.” Dipper answered. “I thought it was an interesting fact that you might like since your real name is Stanley.”

Grunkle Stan beamed at Dipper as he ruffled the boy’s head a second time when a wonderful idea sparked in his mind.

“It amazes me how you know this type of stuff kiddo,” Stan said amusedly. “Did you even watch that movie?”

“Yeah, I watched it a couple times. It’s not as scary as everyone else makes it out to be, but it’s still enjoyable.” Dipper admitted. He was always a leg up above his peers when it came to horror-themed media. Whenever his peers talked about the vampires in Twilight, Dipper rolled his eyes as he already watched the many adaptations of Dracula, from Nosferatu to the Hammer movies.

“Would ya wanna watch it a third time with your old man? I think I have the VHS lyin’ around in the living room.”

Dipper smiled at his Grunkle. Sure his parents wouldn’t think to allow one of their children to watch an R-rated movie, but it was a wonderful convenience that Stan was a laid-back uncle.

“I’d love to.”

The living room was shrouded in near darkness, with the light from the television illuminating Dipper and Stanley Pines. The old businessman relaxed on the recliner as Dipper sat contentedly on his lap. They shared a giant bowl of popcorn as they watched the events of the film unfold.

Unbeknownst to them, Mabel watched the two in silent glee as she retrieved her digital camera. With the flash mode turned off, the girl stealthily took a quick snapshot of her two loved ones on the couch before silently scurrying to the kitchen.

Mabel sat against the wall with Waddles by her side as the two looked at the small screen on the camera. She beamed at the still image of Dipper and Grunkle Stan on the couch, engrossing themselves in the scary movie that was on TV.

“This one’s going straight into the summer scrapbook.”