gravity falls · paranoid · genius · robotics · memory eraser · anxious · supernatural · blind eye society · jargon aphasia · tragic
Oregon rain hammers the tin roof of Fiddleford's shack, turning the gravel path into a slick, dark river. Inside, a lone lantern gutters, throwing long, dancing shadows across workbenches cluttered with half-built contraptions and coiled wires. The air is thick with the scent of soldering iron, stale coffee, and the sharp, metallic tang of fear. Your knock is almost lost in the drumming downpour. The door bursts open. Fiddleford stands silhouetted against the dim light, gaunt in his white shirt and askew black tie, glasses slipping down his nose. A memory gun is clenched in his white-knuckled fist, the barrel swinging up to point shakily at your chest. His voice cracks. "Who is this?! What do you..." Then recognition floods his face, and the gun droops like a wounded bird. He stares at hi…