#Stanley knows Vlad is Sketch

[kingofthecon]

'Becoming a ghost is sad.' The comment caused Stanley Pines to startle and look to the one who'd spoken. His great nephew, Dipper, had been watching one of his paranormal shows on the tube and was either talking to himself or to the old man who was far too busy sitting on the living room floor marking up graph paper for what would most likely be another "riveting" night of Dungeons, Dungeons, and more Dungeons. 'Nerds,' Stanley mused as he walked through the wall to reach the gift shop where no one could see his form solidifying. Whatever conversation was taking place in the next room he didn't not wish to be a part of it. He knew more than he needed to about specters, being one himself gave him that keep sort of insight after all. Of course he couldn't have his way as the young man entered room still rattling on about his theory. "A ghost being obsessed with something to the point they stick around is so sad. It's also the same with unfinished business. In both those scenarios a ghost can possibly stick around forever and get stuck. I bet that's what happened to Ma and Pa Duskerton." Stanley sighed, resigning himself to listening to the kid and the old man that followed in afterwards - the thoughtful frown he wore disappearing when he saw his twin behind the counter where he'd "walked" to count the money in the register. "I didn't see you come in, Stanley." "Not surprising," he grumped at his twin without looking up from the wad of cash in his hands. "You've always had a bad case of tunnel vision." "I didn't see you come in either, grunkle Stan." "Not surprising," Stan repeated, only this time he did look up. "That's been a trend for the entirety of the summer." Dipper turned a bit red while Stanford looked offended. Neither nerd could talk, however, because Stanley's words were true. It made him smirk just a tad as he went back to counting. Meanwhile, Dipper got over his embarrassment and went back to his talk of ghost with his great uncle Stanford. "Between the Duskertons and the Lumberjack ghost there haven't really been too many opportunity to explore the--" "Kid," Stanley interupts drawing the attention of his brother and his nephew. "There's nothin' complicated about ghosts. They die and stick around because somethin's keepin'em around. Could be unfinished business like revenge for their deaths. Could be to protect someone. Could be just to play pranks or scare people for no reason. Some are weak. Some can be dangerous. End of story." Dipper and even Stanford looked unconvinced, though there was also a hint of suspicion that Stanley decided he wasn't going to stick around for. He probably shouldn't have opened his mouth - but after everything that'd happened up until bringing Ford back; including the part where he specifically told his dangerous know-it-all of a brother to stay away from the kids, he'd been a little high strung. And he knew the exact reason why. It didn't help that Dipper's preferred topic of the day hit a little too close to home for Stanley. Unable to look them in the eyes as he walked away, he didn't notice the way Dipper seemed to curl inward or Stanford's twitch - the chill that suddenly came over the two of them having nothing to do with Stan's cold shoulder.

His escape from the shack wasn't nearly as fast as he would have liked it to be, but he needed to act casual. In hindsight he had acted foolishly. His brother was a genius with 12 PhDs and could probably see through that act about as easily as if he'd been able to see through Stanley if he wasn't capable of sustaining his tangibility. It was why in the car, deep in the woods, he was able to drop the act. Gone was the old man only to be replaced by a younger man somewhere between 25-35 with a tattered red jacket and a mullet. His once vibrant skin had a blue tint to it and the outglow that his body had but was harder to see during the day became bright. Despite the unnecessity of breathing the spector still found himself releasing an exhale in an attempt to calm himself down. Why had he even panicked the way he had? Dipper was just being his inquisitive self. Was it because of Ford? Was it because Stanford could figure him out in a heartbeat if given the chance? With the Pines Twins classic being at odds with one another, even after their thirty year separation, would the remnants of their relationship last with Stanley becoming just another anomaly to Stanford who only stuck around because he had unfinished business? Would Stanford try to exorcise him - believing that Stanley was nothing more than an echo of a person he'd known long ago but had died - no body left to bury? Would he become even more insufferable; asking his stupid questions about ghosts and what it was like to be one and what kept him tethered to the world of the living? Stanley...didn't want to find out. Frozen fingers tapped gentle at the steering wheel - the car having a ghostly glow of its own as well - before simply gripping at it tightly. He couldn't very well run away from this - he knew that, but he couldn't continue to hide what he was from Dipper and Stanford. Between the two of them something would have to give, and Stanley wasn't ready to let it all go just yet. He wanted to make amends with Stanford. He wanted them to be friends again. He couldn't do that, he assumed, if he were to be found out. 'There's one place I can go...' he mused as he started the car and headed deeper into the forest until the trees became too clustered for the car to pass. He debated on simply driving through them anyway - his car took on ghostly properties when he was in it after all - they were practically one entity, but he chose instead to get out continue on foot so to speak. He could feel himself calm considerably as well as a bit of a boost of energy the closer he came to a cluster of rocks and boulders that seemed practically welded together - an old ruin of sorts he assumed. Once close enough the hum of something reached his ears. He merely placed the palm of his hand against the wall and let his body phase through until a swirling mass of light and dark greens came into his field of vision. 'The Ghost Zone' he thought as he shook his head. He'd only been there twice - when he first...died...and again when he realized there were certain advantages to having a ghost portal connected to other parts of the world - especially when that meant getting materials for another type of portal; a trans-dimensional portal that needed a specific type of fuel and power source. It was complicated. At least he'd found a supplier and had a network going. He wondered if, maybe, said supplier would be willing to give him any advice, or if the Cheese Head had other things going on. Either way, Stan was on his way to Wisconsin. @gamblealife