#rangertate

      [ Be concered (about) Tyrone ]

           ❝ Uh, actually it’s just my first time here– ❞ 

     He stopped abruptly, realizing that a lot must have      happened to Dipper between the first time Tyrone      was created and now, almost two months later. It      would probably be better if the other didn’t know he     was some sort of paper clone. 

Tate was curious of his father’s work for as long as he could remember. The boy had peaked in when his father went to use the john, yawning and rubbing his lower back as Tate figured his dad was tired from all the bending and slouching as he works on his ‘machines’. The boy was caught red handed picking up what looked like the top of a ‘laptop’ and Tate set it down as fast as he could, making his exit at top speed out the garage door and climbing up the nearest tree in the yard like a squirrel.

Tate knew he was in trouble. The tone in his father’s voice was proven this but as if Tate was going to be grounded or ‘put in the corner’ to think about his actions. So Tate sat on a branch, watching as his father scramble to follow after him. No matter how smart his father was, Tate knew his old man was out of shape compared to his mom.

“Whatcha gonna do dad? I’m too high for you!”

Fiddleford was indeed out of shape and a little out of breath by the time he cornered Tate, and his crafty son managed to scramble up a tree. He stared up at Tate, wide-eyed and spectacles all askew. “Tate! Oh my goodness, son, ya can’t just go climbin’ trees all willy-nilly! What if ya fall? Don’t move! I’m coming up to get ya!”

He started to try climbing the tree. Despite adrenaline and parental protective instincts, however, Fiddleford could only manage to get half way up the trunk. How had Tate managed to get up there so far? He grunted as he lost his grip on the tree and fell back on his rear. He blew a breath out, blowing some bangs out of his face.

“Okay! NEW PLAN. Don’t ya move, Tate! I’m going to get a ladder! Just stay right where ya are! Daddy’s going to come get ya!” He rushed to the garage as fast as his feet would carry him. Then, he came back, heaving a ladder. He now looked very out-of-breath, and had to take a moment to lean against the ladder, panting.

> “I can make important phone calls no problem, got a stable job with a steady income and a dog. Never been married and don’t think I’m going to be in the future.”

“What’s with the random question Mr. Pines? Are you having a mid life crisis?”

“Midlife crisis? What kinda guy do you take me for? I have everything I need, I don’t need no dang crisis.” Stan looked annoyed, crossing his arms over his chest for good measure. “Can’t a guy ask a question?”

THIS POST MADE MY LIFE

also, bonus: