#fite?

If u wanna fite dis child download the transparent one and draw ur charactar

I wanna see results!

Dont forget to tag me

A deep, hearty laugh came from the old man. Did Dipper really think he could pull a fast one and get away with it? Not a chance in heck! “You certainly are!” Stanford agreed with a big, toothy grin as he stepped forth.

Despite his age, the author could still move with surprising speed. His hands reached out, his right cupping the inside of Dipper’s elbow, and his left bracing against the young brunet’s wrist.

A sharp shove was given, accompanied by a rough pull. Perhaps a bit forceful, but not enough to hurt Dipper. No, this was quite the simple trick, and when it was done, Stanford was left holding Dipper in place.

The younger male’s hand still held tightly to the plastic grip of his NYARF gun, but Stanford’s own six fingered paw had closed around it. His index finger rested lightly above Dipper’s, but it wouldn’t flex away. One wrong move on Dipper’s part and FWIP,

The rubber plunger would be stuck right beneath his chin.

“But is that really such a good thing?”

That's exactly what Dipper thought. He'd sneak up on Great Uncle Ford and maybe, just maybe for once get the drop on him. You would think after all the years spent walking in his footsteps, and training with the man,  he'd at least best of him once in a while. In hindsight, maybe sneaking up on his Great Uncle with a plastic toy wasn't the smartest idea. He should have known that those years spent locked away from their dimension would give Ford a certain edge against sneak attacks. He's lucky he didn't lose a limb for startling him. Not like anyone could.

Ford just moved too liquid fast. One moment he was holding the gun and the next, Dipper had been yanked off balance, no longer in possession of his hand, and more importantly his gun.

Years ago, he might have been frustrated at his own lack of finesse, or at Uncle Ford's unparalleled skill, but by now he knew better not to let it bother him, well too much anyways.  It was like that old country song. 'know when to walk away and know when to fight.'

Dipper held his hands up, disengaging and letting Ford have the gun. He took a calculated step back. "Fine. You win, you can have the gun. But you just used the only ammo there was."

 Or was it?  He wasn't as agile as Ford, but he was least somewhat dexterous, hopping up to perch on an abandoned crate and firing another toy dart at his Great Uncle's head.