Pacifica

"Finally! After all these long years of waiting, you're actually here! Brother!" Grunkle Stan held out his arms, expecting a hug. Instead, the author walked up and punched him in the nose.
"Ow, what was that for?" He demanded.
"That was an insanely risky move, restarting the portal!"
"Warnings, schmarnings. How about maybe giving me a thanks from saving you from what appears to be, I don't know, some kind of sci-fi sideburn dimension?"
"Thank you?!" He burst in outrage. "You really think I'm gonna thank you after what you did THIRTY YEARS AGO?!"
"What I did? Why, you ungrateful..." Grunkle Stan moved to punch him, but the author ducked and grabbed him, then slammed him to the ground.
"Hey, hi, Pacifica here." I walked up to them and gave a quick wave with my gloved hand. "What the heck is going on here?"
"Stan, you didn't tell me there were children done here." Ford stood up.
"I'm a teenager." Wendy murmured.
"They're your family, Poindexter. Shermy's grandkids. At least, those two are." Grunkle Stan motioned to me and Gideon. "I don't know why the other set of twins are here." He quickly scowled at Dipper and Mabel.
"I-I have a niece and nephew?" He shook my gloved hand. "Greetings. Do kids still say greetings? I haven't been in this dimension for a really long time."
"Wow, a  six-fingered handshake? That's a full finger friendlier than normal!" I nervously laughed as we shook hands, then I quickly grabbed my hand away, worried he might feel the amulet under the thick glove.
"I like this kid, she's weird." He kindly smiled.
"I-I can't believe it!" Dipper and Gideon squealed at the same time.
"You're the author of the journals!"
"Dipper, it's just some old man." Mabel sighed, leaning against the dusty wall.
"At least hold in your excitement, Gid. Like I am." I sighed.
"You've read my journals?" He asked Gideon and Dipper.
"I haven't just read them, I live them!" Dipper squealed, excited.
"I've been waiting so long to meet you, I don't know what to say!" Gideon looked like he was about to burst from happiness.
"Listen, there'll be time for introductions later. But first, Stan; are there any security breaches? Does anyone else know about this portal?" The author asked.
"No, just us. Also maybe the entire U.S. government."
"The what?!"
We turned to the security camera footage playing on a tv. Agent Powers was yelling, "Fan out! We're not going anywhere until we find Stan Southeast and those kids! Remember, Pacifica Southeast has committed two charges of murder, including a 14 year-old girl and Agent Trigger!"
I bit my lip as everyone turned to me. "They're totally lying." I shrugged.
"Okay, it's alright. We've got a while before they find this room. We just need to lay low and think of a plan." The author suggested.
"Well, looks like we're trapped down here for a while. Who wants to tell us their entire mysterious backstory?" I suggested.
"Maybe we should ask Pacifica about the murder charges." Grunkle Stan demanded.
"It shouldn't be a surprise, Dipper is my boyfriend." I hugged Dipper's arm, and he kissed me on the cheek. Gideon pretended to barf.
"I have some questions about this myself, Stanley." The author asked Grunkle Stan.
"Stanley?" Gideon asked.
"But your name is Stanford!"
"Wait, so you took my name?! What have you been doing all these years, you knucklehead?!" The author demanded.
"Yeah, Grunkle Stan, no more lies! You owe us some answers. What's the deal with this portal? Why did you keep this a secret?" Gideon asked.
"And what happened between you and your brother?" I asked.
"I hope this aligns with my smut fanfiction about Gideon and me, or I'll be very disappointed." Mabel crossed her arms.
"Okay, okay. I have a lot of explaining to do. It all started, a lifetime ago, nineteen-sixty something, in the Southeast Mansion in California."

Stanley

"I lived with my ma and pa in the mansion. Dad was a strict man and not easily impressed. Ma was a pathological liar, which served her well lying about the same things your parents do now, Pacifica."
"Hey!"
"And there was my twin brother, Stanford. As if his abnormally high IQ wasn't enough, he also had a rare birth defect, six fingers on each hand. Which might have explained his obsession with sci-fi mystery weirdness.
"As for me, I had what mom likes to call personality. But as different as we were, we were the perfect team. And every day, we would wander the beach, looking for adventure."

"A shipwrecked sailboat, possibly haunted by pirate ghosts!" Ford had exclaimed.
"This is the greatest thing I've ever seen! And I've once seen a dead rat floatin' in a bucket!" I gasped.
"Ha, ew, what's wrong with you?" Ford pushed me playfully.
"Huh, you know what this thing is missing?"
"Flags!"

We managed to push the boat out of the cave, onto the beach. We had tied our shirts onto the masts. The sun has burned our skin to a bright pink.
"Kings of California! Kings of California!" We both chanted.

Later, we were painting the name of the boat on the hull.
"I dub thee, the Stan O' War!" Ford cheered, painting on he last letter. Suddenly, a small pebble was pelted into his head. "Ow! What the heck?"
We both turned to three older kids, standing behind us.
"Well, well, if it ain't the loser twins. Nice boat, ya get it at the dump?" One of them laughed snidely.
"You would know that, Crampelter! Get lost!" I yelled.
"Listen dorks, and listen good." He pointed to Ford. "You're a six-fingered freak," he then pointed to me, "and you're just a dumber, sweatier version o' him. And you're lucky you both have each other, because neither of you will have any friends!" He laughed again as he left with his friends. "Dorks and losers!"
Ford looked glumly down at his hand.
"Hey, don't let those idiots get to you." I said.
"But I am a freak. I just wonder if there's anywhere in the world where weirdos like me fit in."
"Hey, chin up buddy. Look, one of these days, you and me safe gonna sail away from this dumb town. We'll hunt for adventure, get all the girls, and be an unstoppable team of adventurers."
"You really mean it?"
"High six?"
"High six."
We high-sixed each other.
"I can also get mom to hire a hit man."
"No thanks."