#this also might be an excuse to draw small dipper

[pchelaus]

dipper drags mystical creatures(one demon especially) home just as mabel drags raccoons and opossums

#gave up on finishing the second picture #sorry stan #otherwise this would be lost and forgotten forever #this drawing came from the dialog with friend #majority of fics dipper just brings bill to the mystery shack without asking anyone #secretly or not bill gets domesticated #dipper just finds this loser in some dumpster and decides he's worth showing to ford #this also might be an excuse to draw small dipper #and red bill #bill cipher #dipper pines #ugghh i need to post all the stuff that has been pilling up for a while

[mrpenguinpants]

Childe/Tartaglia: “Enemies” to “Lovers”

Aww, thank you 💕💕 All of you are so lovely ;-; Coming out from the bushes and attacking me.

Have you guy’s seen the Childe trailer? It’s in Chinese but holy shit I want him?? Who is Xiao anymore? WHAT ARE LOYALTIES??? I’m gonna ATTEMPT to roll for Childe. I love snake two faced characters so much.

I’ve never written for Childe before and there’s not a lot to go off on but I will try my best. Honestly, he’s like Dazai 2.0 for me lol.

I’m not sure what scenario you wanted but since I’m hard simping for this man, I made this a lot a bit self indulgent. I actually had a completely different idea so that’s where the enemies to lovers title comes from before I scrapped it. Now if you’ll excuse me, here’s your 2k words of food.

Update: Guess what? You’re getting a part 2. Don’t know when but now I have a taglist if you want to be added and tagged when it comes out 

---

Childe/Tartaglia: “Enemies” to “[Lovers]”

Childe silently hops over the wall and onto the roof in the dead of night. The moon was shining high, casting dark shadows that he slips in between them as he eyes his destination. An open window leading to an important personnel. Usually, he would send an agent to observe, but once he learned who this secret person was, he decided to take it into his own hands. To stretch his muscles a bit. His hand quickly caught the edge of the window sill as he raises himself and drops into the spacious room. He whistles lowly as he looks around. This was a big room but it wasn’t that much of a surprise, considering who was staying here.

“Thank you, have a good night.”

His head perks up as he hears a voice and steps into the shadows of the room. He can faintly make out an outline of a body behind the sliding doors and stands back, out of sight. He watches as the doors slowly open and the person he’s been looking for steps in. One of the leaders of the Qixing. As soon as the door’s close behind you, your shoulder’s finally relaxed before turning around to walk to the other end of the room where a large mirror was placed. You loosen the pin holding your clothes up, finally ready to get rid of these heavy clothes. He quickly averts his eyes but your voice once again breaks the silence.

“Do you make it a habit of watching others without their knowledge or are you going to say something?” you ask as you turn around as your eyes roam around what appeared to be an empty room. He weighs his options before shrugging and stepping out into the moonlight with his arms raised in mock surrender.

“I swear I would look away. I’m a bad guy but I’m not one of those types. I promise!” He laughs casually despite the circumstance, “I’m surprised you noticed me. But I suppose one of the Qixing would be capable of such an act.”

“Oh no, you were perfect. You just came at a bad time. But who are you? You don’t act like an agent” you eyed him carefully as you fiddled with your pin.

“I’m Childe, one of the Fatui’s Eleven Harbingers,” he replies giving a mock bow in your direction. He watches your reaction to see if you’ll panic and call for the Millelith. Instead, you simply nod along and you’ve stopped fiddling with the pin on your clothing.  

“Ah, I’ve met a few of you Harbingers. You don’t look like one” you remarked as you turn around once again to finally undo the pin. Childe quickly turns his gaze away as you settle the heavy clothes on the table to fold. You pull your inner clothes closer to yourself to keep warm in the chilly room.

“I’m a bit too young to see their way of thinking. So I don’t fit in well with them,” he shrugs unbothered. He’s never liked the other Harbingers anyways, “I wasn’t aware that the Qixing had other leaders present.”

“Well, the Qixing prefer to keep things somewhat discreet-”

“Yaoguang? Is everything alright? We heard voices,” one of the Millelith cuts you off as both Childe and your eyes dart to the paper screen door. Childe steps silently towards the window sill, ready to escape if needed. He would have to do a lot of unnecessary explaining if he were caught and the Qixing were already suspicious of the Fatui.

“Yes, I’m alright. I haven’t heard anything at all. Are you sure you are alright? Maybe you should rest,” you quickly walk to the door and slide it open just enough for the Millelith to see your face. The Millelith shakes his head and quietly apologizes for disturbing you before leaving.

“That looks like my cue to go, it’s getting pretty late anyway,” Childe smiles as he ducks under the window sill and gives a small wave back to you.

“Have a good night Childe.”

“You too, Yaoguang.”

---

“Don’t you think the Qixing are a bit too secretive?”

You turn around to see Childe sitting on the window sill as he ponders the thought. His right leg is resting on his left knee as his arm hold’s his chin as he stares at the wall in front of him. You give him a quick once over before going back to what you were doing, polishing your pin.

“Are you sure one of the Fatui should be saying that? Your organization plays with deceit and trickery” you laugh quietly to yourself as you place your pin in a old wooden box. It looked out of place in the room with the crude drawings and chipped paint, but Childe thought it suited you.

“Hey, I don’t agree with those methods at least! I’m here in front of you, aren’t I? But what about you? Aren’t you keeping me a secret from the Qixing?” he grins mischievously as he directs his attention onto you. Your back to still to him but he can watch your face in the reflection of the mirror. He’s not sure if he should commend you on your relaxed expression or the fact that he could easily kill you with your back turned.

“Mm, perhaps. But I enjoy this. You may not believe me but I think of you as a friend Childe. A personal secret of mine.” you say amused as you look up into the reflection of the mirror and manage to catch his surprised expression before it disappears.

“A friend? We’ve barely known each other,” he looked at you incredulously but with a wry smile, “I might seem nice but I’m still a bad guy.”

“A lot of people in Liyue don’t appear as they seem. But I don’t consider all of them as bad people. Don’t you think so Childe?”

He doesn’t say anything. You never mention it again.

---

“I have a younger sister who is an astrologist,” you say as you’re lying back on the bed while he sits on the window sill, “she’s the one that gave me this pin except her pin is red with the star and moon.”

You held the pin up for him to take and look for himself. He slips off the window sill and walks to your lying figure to take hold of it. It was a blue pin with a star in the center and the sun’s rays lining the edges of the rim. It was a bit worn but it was in incredibly good condition. He’s seen how you look at the pin so he’s not surprised.

“Astrology huh? Aren’t you Qixing named after the Big Dipper’s stars?” he asks as he hands the pin back to you and watches your eyes take a childlike gleam. He huffs a bit amused under his breath, you always seem to get like this whenever he let’s you ramble about stars.

“Yes, Yaoguang is translated from the Alkaid star. Alkaid derives from the Arabic phrase meaning "The leader of the daughters of the bier". The daughters of the bier are the three stars of the handle of the Big Dipper, Alkaid, Mizar, and Alioth. While the four stars of the bowl, Megrez, Phecda, Merak, and Dubhe, are the bie,” you ramble on making different gesture as you continue your mini lecture, “Tianquan and Yuheng are the stars Megrez and Alioth. They are here in Liyue too but Tianquan will be the one that preforms the Rite of Descension. It feels as if I’m attending my sister’s talent show even if Tianquan is older than me.”

“Hm, I’ve never looked into studying the stars. I’m more of a fighter,” Childe comments as he hears you laugh that you’re not surprised. He looks towards the moon and see’s it’s his time to leave. You give him a small wave as he starts back to the window sill before giving a small comment over his shoulder.

“You know I also have a younger sister.”

“Is she aware of what you do Childe?”

“No, of course not. Does your sister know what you do?”

“No, she doesn’t know either.”

---

“Can I see your mask?”

He unstraps it from his head and hands it to you as he watches you run your finger around the intricate details before moving it over your face. You’re both seated on the bed this time beside each other.

“I don’t understand how you can fight wearing this,” you say as you squint your eyes through the opening of the mask. He chuckles softly at the weird expression before plucking his mask out of your hands.

“Hm? I thought the Qixing were capable fighters?” he asks as he reattaches the mask to the side of his head. He rest’s his chin back onto his hand and settles back into his comfortable position.

“Yes, Tianquan uses the geo element while Yuheng uses electro,” you list off on one hand.

“What do you use?” he asks.

“Who knows” you answer.

He pouts a bit which you have to stifle your laugh at. It’s somewhat amazing how far he’s gone with this. He’s pretty busy managing business behind the scenes and getting on friendly terms with that funeral parlor man, Zhongli was it? Yet, he finds himself back here whenever he get’s a free night.

“I’m sorry for laughing but I never thought you could make such an expression. But I’m being honest. I can’t use a vision so I don’t know,” you shrug as you lie back down and close your eyes. Childe nods along even though you can’t see him. He had always thought the pin you carried was your vision until you let him hold it for himself.

“If you joined the Fatui. We could give you a vision,” he says as his gaze almost pierces through you but you continue to look unbothered. Your eye’s still remained peacefully closed.

“It’s the night before the Rite of Descension. It will be a busy day so you should get some rest before then Childe”

---

It was the day of the Rite of Descension and he had yet to see you. He knew you would be observing but wouldn’t you at least be at a vantage point where you could view the entire ritual?

“Excuse me, have you seen the Yaoguang?” he asks one of the Qixing attendants but she only looks at him confused. He’s not that surprised about that either.

“Yaoguang? I’m sorry but that leader isn’t here in Liyue right now. Did you mean to ask for Tianquan Lady Ningguang perhaps?” she attempts to correct as she gestures to the middle of the stage, where the white haired woman was standing.

“Yaoguang isn’t here? They haven’t appeared at all these past few weeks for the Rite of Descension to observe?” he asks again but the lady shook her head as he chuckled. So not even people closest to the Qixing knew that one of their leaders was being impersonated.

“Oh, sorry. Yes, I meant for Tianquan Ningguang. Sorry, these star names are a bit hard to wrap my head around” he laughs it off before walking away before the lady has time to respond.

“She is busy preparing for the Rite of Descension so she won’t be seeing anyone anytime soon. Perhaps after the ceremony if it’s urgent?” she still calls out to him before going back to her responsibilities.  

Tartaglia nods as he waves goodbye before continuing on. He never cared for the Rite of Descension but maybe today will be interesting. He spots two familiar faces in the crowd trying to get to the front to see the Rite of Descension. They seem to be friends. He laughs to himself as he reminisces all your past interactions with him. He’ll find out sooner or later who this mysterious Yaoguang impersonator is. After all, the walls have ears.

---

Part 2 perhaps? Depends on the feedback I get on this. I read about the big dipper for this fic. 

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact childe #genshin impact childe x reader #childe x reader #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact tartaglia #tartaglia x reader #genshin childe imagine #genshin headcanons #genshin fanfic #childe headcanons #childe imagines

[ladylynse]

Crossroads: Part II

A Gravity Falls/Over the Garden Wall fanfiction

Happy birthday, @paperhoodie! Thanks again for drawing this lovely cover (also on deviantart).

Part I: Mabel and Dipper have dealt with a demon before, so when they wind up lost in the woods and are given two choices by a creepy kid with a lantern, they make sure to pick the third option—but every choice has consequences, even when you don’t play by the rules.

Part II: How much do you dare trust something that might not even be real? Memories, people...even reality itself?  (FFnet | AO3)

He became aware of the steady beeping first, and then aware of the fact that he was aware of it. More sounds and sensations swirled over him—the high-pitched whine of machinery, a firm mattress beneath him, the sharp smell of some sort of antiseptic, inconsistent waves of suffocating heat, a mouth that seemed completely deprived of saliva, and—childish babble?

Greg?

Greg!

Wirt tried to say something. He tried to move. He didn’t manage either. Not coherently, anyway. He managed to pry open his eyes—why was it so bright?—and lift a finger, but he felt stiff and exhausted. He wasn’t entirely sure he had actually managed to make a sound, either. If he had, it hadn’t been heard over Greg.

Greg was perched on the end of his bed in the hospital room—when had he ended up in the hospital?—and Wirt could feel the steady swinging of Greg’s feet through the mattress. Greg didn’t notice that he was awake; instead, Greg stared up at the ceiling, counting the dots on the tiles.

Greg’s voice—every sound, really—was distorted, as if Wirt were listening to it from underwater, but he could still make out the words. “Six hundred and forty-two, six hundred and forty-three, six hundred—”

A shrill series of beeps went off elsewhere, an alarm, but Greg continued unfazed.

The hum in the background grew louder, like someone had turned downed the volume on the rest of the world so that only the hum remained. Wirt shut his eyes again and tried to focus solely on Greg’s voice, but it was getting harder and harder to make out. He needed something to ground him. He needed…he needed….

The next time Wirt woke, Greg was gone. There was a nurse, doing…something…. Why couldn’t he think clearly? A syringe and an IV and—was that connected to his arm?

He tried to say something again and managed a sort of grunt that caught her attention. She smiled at him and said something, but there was water rushing in his ears, and he was just so tired….

Wirt lost track of time. Even once he became more lucid, everything seemed to blur together. Nothing made any sense, ether.

Greg came by daily, sometimes on his own but usually with at least one of their parents in tow. A couple of his friends stopped in, but never for very long; they’d all try to make small talk and then, when uncomfortable silence swelled too often for too long, invent an excuse to leave. No one really knew what to say.

He’d been in the hospital. He knew that much. He still wasn’t sure why. Until he’d caught sight of green leaves on the trees outside, he’d feared that it had never been summer at all, that it was still shortly after Halloween, that he’d never woken up until now and that everything he remembered—because he did still remember that, at least most of it—was just something invented by his subconscious.

Greg was the one who finally told him the story. No months’ long coma or anything terrible like that, just a horrible fever. Admittedly, it had been a fever that had stubbornly stayed upwards of a hundred and three for days, and with him eating nothing and sweating out or vomiting the little he did drink, his parents had bundled him up and taken him in, and there he had stayed.

Wirt remembered none of that.

“You weren’t acting like yourself,” Greg informed him the night Wirt was finally released. He sat on his bed, swinging his legs much like he had at the hospital; Wirt stood in front of him, desperate for answers. He had thought it was safer to ask questions in Greg’s room than in his; in here, their parents might think they were merely playing and not bother to listen in. “You kept saying weird things. Mom says you were delicious.”

Wirt frowned. “You mean delirious?”

Greg hummed and nodded. “But then the fever broke and you got better. I think it was because Jason Funderburker kissed you.” Wirt stared at him, but as Greg continued, blithely unaware of Wirt’s unease, Wirt realized he had been talking about his frog. “I wasn’t supposed to bring him in but he wanted to come visit you, too.”

Wirt swallowed and glanced at the table where the pet frog’s giant habitat sat, but it was empty. “I’ll have to thank him, then. Where is he?”

“In your room. He missed you.”

Right. He should have guessed. “How long was I gone?”

Greg’s legs stopped swinging. “Forever,” he said. Somehow, it didn’t sound like an exaggeration. “I’m glad you’re back now. Promise not to leave again?”

Wirt forced a smile on his face. “What makes you think I’m going to leave?” he asked instead, reaching over to ruffle Greg’s hair and diving to tickle him as he dodged.

The distraction worked. Wirt was glad; he couldn’t make that promise. Not yet. He didn’t think he could keep it yet.

It hadn’t been delirium. It hadn’t been a dream. It had been too real for that.

Mabel and Dipper, whoever they were, had helped him. Had freed him. He had to at least try to help them in return. He wasn’t sure how yet, wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to find them, but he was going to try.

“What are you doing?”

Oh, no. He’d hoped to get away before Greg found him. He turned as Greg trotted into his room and smiled. He didn’t want to lie to his brother; Greg didn’t deserve that. “I need to help a couple of friends.”

Greg was silent for a few seconds, taking in the duffel bag that was already stuffed full of clothes and toiletries and survival supplies and everything else Wirt thought he might need. Wirt braced himself for the inevitable questions: Why are you leaving? Where are you going?

Instead, he got, “Why are you packing your Halloween costume?”

“Because Summerween’s next week,” Wirt answered automatically, but even as he said it, he didn’t know if that was true. It was practically next week already, and he wasn’t sure when he’d met the twins (he was convinced they were twins, not just siblings). Time in the Unknown was different than it was here. Days there could be minutes here, so days here…. Mabel and Dipper were probably home by now.

Or they might never have made it back.

Then again, if time did pass so differently, it didn’t make sense that he’d lived two lives. Even if he couldn’t remember any more of his time in the Unknown than when he’d been with the twins, the lantern had been burning brightly; he’d been there for a while, or at least regularly. There wouldn’t have been time for years to pass between his visits. Something didn’t add up.

But they had been real. He knew that. He’d even gone to the library to do as much research on them and the little he knew about them as he could. He could recall everything from then clearly, much more vividly than if it had just been a dream. The names they had given him were Dipper and Mabel. They had a pet pig named Waddles and great-uncles named Stan and Ford. They had fought someone called Bill Cipher.

The names hadn’t proven useful, especially when the only one with a last name he knew was supposed to be a demon. But some of the other odd things they’d mentioned—Summerween and Weirdmageddon—had helped him narrow it down. He wasn’t sure how reliable the information was, of course, but every mention of those words—however sketchy—seemed to lead him to one place, and by combing through online newspapers, he’d been able to put some people with those names in that town.

It was a crazy idea, but he didn’t know what else to do.

So he was packing a bag, and he’d used his money to buy a bus ticket to Gravity Falls, and he hoped his parents wouldn’t kill him once they read the note he was planning to leave behind.

He had twenty minutes.

“That sounds fun. I’ll pack mine, too.”

“You’re not coming, Greg.”

“Why not?”

Wirt’s hands shook, so he stuffed the old army cloak into his suitcase to cover up his body’s betrayal. “Because I won’t be able to protect you.”

“Well, maybe I can protect you.”

That’s what I’m afraid of. Wirt didn’t want Greg to try to sacrifice himself like that again. He took a slow breath. “I need you to take care of Mom and Dad.”

“They can take care of themselves. They have each other. Who will you have if you don’t have me?”

Wirt dearly hoped the answer to that question wasn’t the Beast or any other demon, including this Bill Cipher, but he couldn’t explain anything. He couldn’t explain how he had seemingly been in two places at once, living two different lives. He couldn’t explain his lost time there or even his lost time here. What if none of it been real after all, and he’d simply imagined meeting Dipper and Mabel and pulled out some tidbits of information from his subconscious while in a feverish state?

Or was this the life which wasn’t real?

Wirt swallowed. He didn’t know. He wasn’t sure who he could trust. If that had been real and this wasn’t….

Nice illusions make the best traps. That’s what Mabel had said. And wasn’t she right?

You can be shown what you want to see. If you think everything is fine, you’re never going to fight it. How was he supposed to know what this was if illusions could be so convincing?

No. He had to trust that it was all real, somehow. As real as his previous trip over the garden wall and into those woods with Greg on Halloween. He didn’t have Dipper’s apparent understanding of deals with demons, but he could understand the gist of it. If Dipper had been right—partially right, considering this life was real, too—and he had still belonged to the Beast, then maybe he had been more useful to the Beast as a puppet. And maybe he had stopped the Woodsman from blowing out the lantern. But maybe he had still followed Greg back to this world, had still been able to live his life here….

Until the Beast needed him again. Until he was called back. To guard the woods. Keep watch for lost souls. Ferry people across the lake.

Keep the lantern burning.

And as long as that happened, the Beast didn’t need him the entire time. The lantern could have burned without its guardian in that quiet corner of the woods as long as he returned regularly to harvest Edelwood to feed it—and to keep children from finding their way out of the woods so that their souls could be claimed by the Beast, too.

He couldn’t remember falling ill at all this year, didn’t know if it had happened with any regularity or if this last fever had been mere coincidence. He doubted it, though. Fever, flame…. It had to be connected.

Especially since he couldn’t remember what had happened before he’d woken in the hospital.

Not really.

Dipper had said something about keeping the lantern lit, about being more useful as a puppet than as a tree, and then….

And then nothing, not even a blur or the vague sense of a fading dream.

That scared him.

Even more terrifying was the fact that he didn’t know if it was over.

This was the first time he was aware of it, but that was because Mabel and Dipper had snapped him out of it while he’d still been there. That didn’t mean he was free. It didn’t mean the Beast was gone, that the lantern had gone out, or even that Dipper had been right in thinking it a loophole. It didn’t mean the Beast couldn’t pull him back there and use him again.

“Wirt?”

He couldn’t remember what Greg had said, if he’d even asked a question.

“I’m going to go pack. You need me.”

Wirt turned, but Greg was already disappearing. No, he wanted to say. Don’t. What if I can’t protect you? I don’t want you mixed up in this. Not again. Please, just stay here.

But the words didn’t come. Greg was right: Wirt did need him. He was terrified. He didn’t know what he was getting into. Having Greg’s unshakable faith by his side would be a comfort.

But losing it, and knowing it was his fault? Could he really risk that? Again?

Wirt sighed, pulled out his wallet, and began counting his money; if this was going to be a trip for two, he needed to make sure he had enough to cover everything. Greg was not going to suffer because of him. Not again. Not in this. “I’m going to protect you, Greg. I swear, this time, I’ll keep you safe.”

The bus stop in Gravity Falls was nothing more than a sign and a bench on the outskirts of town. Wirt stepped off the bus and looked around uncertainly, carrying both his bag and Greg’s. Greg was humming as he followed Wirt. He didn’t feel…whatever this was. If he did, it didn’t bother him.

It wasn’t something Wirt could put his finger on. It felt like he’d stepped into an electrical field, like the hairs on his arms should be standing up even though they lay flat. He couldn’t hear anything, but there was still…something. Not a hum, exactly, but a…a….

There was a small pop. Wirt turned, spotting the redheaded girl leaning against a tree on the other side of the road as she asked, “So, who are you two attached to?”

“Um….”

“I’m Greg,” Greg said, bounding across the road to the girl as she blew another pink bubble. “That’s my brother, Wirt. We’re on an adventure!”

The girl popped this bubble, too, and cracked a smile. She uncrossed her arms and crouched down to Greg’s level. “Nice to meet ya, Greg. Now, what makes you think you and Wirt are going to find an adventure in boring old Gravity Falls?”

“Not sure I’d call it boring,” Wirt muttered, because if this place had demons, too, it couldn’t be. And Mabel may not have explained what she meant by Weirdmageddon, but if half of what he’d found online had even a smidgeon of truth….

The girl’s eyebrows shot up and she looked over at Wirt. “Sounds like you’d enjoy a trip to the Mystery Shack.”

“What’s the Mystery Shack?” Greg asked.

“Exactly what it sounds like.” The girl winked. “It also happens to be where I’m headed; my break’s over. I brought the golf cart if you’d care for a ride. I’m Wendy, by the way.”

Wirt had no idea where he should start looking, and he vaguely recalled something about the Mystery Shack, so he smiled. “That would be nice, thanks.”

“Follow me. I’m just parked over here,” Wendy said, pointing, “and it’s not far. If Greg doesn’t mind squishing in the middle or sitting on your lap, Wirt, you can toss your bags into the back.”

“What brings you out here if you’re just on your break?” Wirt asked, glancing over at Wendy. She looked like she was about his age, but she didn’t seem the type to just hang out at a bus stop for no reason. “You can’t have very long.”

He saw the smile drop from her face, and her expression became more guarded. “I like the fresh air,” was all she said. He couldn’t bring himself to believe her, but he didn’t push it.

Once they were all settled in the golf cart, their luggage safely stowed in the rack at the back, the trip wasn’t very long. Wirt suspected Wendy had driven carefully for Greg’s sake, and he was grateful for that; the cart certainly looked battered enough to have been rolled at some point. He was already regretting allowing Greg to come along. He wasn’t even sure what he was doing here anymore.

Wendy stopped around back and told them they were free to bring their bags inside for now—“Safer than leaving them out in the open.”—although Wirt had no idea who would steal their luggage here. He wasn’t even sure they had followed a road into the place; the main road looked to come from the other direction.

That’s not to say the trail wasn’t well signed; it seemed like every few trees, there was a sign declaring the Mystery Shack, with an arrow pointing the way. But he couldn’t understand why these people would be advertising for it from anywhere but the main road. No one would be coming towards it from the woods.

Granted, from the looks of the place, he wasn’t sure too many people would be coming towards it from the road, either. It looked barely a step above the place where Lorna and Auntie Whispers had lived. Ramshackle, though not abandoned. Falling apart despite a patchwork of repairs, though clean enough to be loved.

The chime above the door went as Wendy led them in, and Wirt heard, “Wendy, did they c— Oh, welcome, newcomers! Behold the Mystery Shack, where all—”

The spiel continued, but Wirt stopped listening in favour of staring. He’d had his doubts just seeing this place from the outside, but now…. It was all so obviously fake. He could see the stitches holding the mermaid together, the antlers on that jackalope were much too large to even be plausible, the merchandise looked cheap and corny…. The missing S from the giant sign on the roof seemed to make the name true. This was more hack than anything else. Why else would there a wax head of Larry King just sitting on a shelf, glaring at them all from behind the counter? This place was one which was too confusing for people to make sense of it, not somewhere that offered a real sense of mystery.

“Wirt, Wirt, look at this! It’s just like that painting at Unkie Endicott’s! Of the ghost lady who wasn’t a ghost! And I think her eyes are moving.” Greg was grinning as he walked back and forth in front of the painting, staring at the canvas.

“You’ll have to pay if you want to see more than just the shop,” Wendy added as she plucked their bags from Wirt’s grip and slid behind the counter with them. “We might have a new Mr. Mystery, but the rules of the business haven’t changed.”

Mr. Mystery smiled rather sheepishly. “We have added a family discount now.”

“They got off the bus themselves,” Wendy said before Wirt could come up with some excuse as to why their parents weren’t around. “Apparently, they’re looking for an adventure. I figured this would be a good place to start.”

“Come on, Wirt.” Greg tugged on his arm. “Let’s go inside!”

“I don’t think….” This was the wrong place to start, but Greg was looking at him that way, and how much could he deny him? He was only here because of Wirt. He’d volunteered to go headlong into danger because of Wirt. Didn’t he deserve a bit of fun before that? “Um, you can go ahead of me, okay?”

He expected Greg to say something in protest, but he just chirped, “Okay!” and bounded through the door to the rest of the building. (Wirt wasn’t sure if it could properly be called a museum when it just looked like a tourist trap.) Mr. Mystery laughed and followed him, presumably to give whatever passed as a tour or maybe to make sure Greg didn’t break anything, which left Wirt with Wendy.

“Five bucks for kids,” she said. “Are you going in, too?”

“Um.” Wirt fumbled with his wallet for a moment before pulling out a bill and passing it to Wendy. “No. I can’t. I…geez, I didn’t think this through enough. Is there a good hotel in town? Or any hotel in town?” Now that he’d seen the size of this place—or rather, the size of the bus stop and one of the main tourist attractions—he was beginning to understand why there had been so little information about it in general. “I need to figure out where we’re going to stay.”

Wendy blew another bubble of gum and managed to answer without popping it. “Hotel’s not rebuilt yet. It wasn’t a priority, I guess; we don’t get a lot of people through here. But I can put in a good word with the guy who lives alone in the mansion on the hill if you don’t mind doing a few chores to earn your keep. That’ll mean more to him than money.”

Wirt was in no position to be picky, and it couldn’t be worse than what they’d encountered in the Unknown. “That would be great.”

Wendy sucked the bubble back into her mouth and then put her hands on the counter and leaned across towards him. “Consider it done, then. But really, Wirt, you wanna tell me why you’re here?”

He offered her a smile, though it probably wasn’t very believable. “We’re going on an adventure.”

“In Gravity Falls?”

He’d expected her to question why he and Greg were alone, not doubt their choice of destination. “Yes?” It came out sounding like a question, even to his ears.

“Why here?”

Wirt swallowed. “Why does the hotel need to be rebuilt?”

“Burned down,” Wendy answered without missing a beat. “But you, you’re here for a reason, aren’t you? Gravity Falls isn’t exactly a place you’d just pick off a map. So why come here?”

The truth was crazy. Wendy might have lived crazy, too, but Wirt didn’t know that for sure, so he settled on a piece of it. “A friend told me about it. She was going to be visiting here, too. She’s looking forward to Summerween.”

Wendy raised her eyebrows. “Summerween’s tonight,” she said, “and you can’t really expect me to believe that you’re following a girl out here when you came with your little brother.”

“It’s not like that,” Wirt insisted, his cheeks burning as if to give lie to his statement. He was kinda sorta dating Sara, if he could believe the life he’d been living here, and he hardly even knew Mabel. “I just owe her and her brother a favour.” They’d saved him, but Wendy wasn’t going to understand that, and saying it would invite more questions than he could answer. He was having enough trouble with this impromptu interrogation as it was.

Wendy’s eyes narrowed, but the next second, she was leaning back in her chair as if nothing was wrong. “Maybe I can help you then, kid. Who are you looking for?”

“Mabel,” Wirt answered, a little annoyed at being called a kid (he wasn’t even that much shorter than her; she didn’t need to treat him like he was Greg’s age) but not annoyed enough to make a big deal out of it when he could use her help.

Wendy sat up. “Mabel. You’re looking for Mabel? Mabel Pines?”

Pines sounded right, but he’d never been sure if that really was her last name. “Mabel and Dipper.” Wendy could take it as either confirmation or denial, depending on the truth. “They helped me with something.”

“When?”

The question was earnest, but Wirt wasn’t entirely sure why it mattered. “Last week.”

“Last Tuesday?”

That was oddly specific. “I don’t remember.”

Wendy sighed. “Look, I’ll be honest with you here, okay? You’re right. Mabel and Dipper are supposed to be here. But they’re not. They’ve gone missing. Their parents thought they might have run away to come here a bit early, but they never turned up, and if it’s a kidnapping, there’s been no ransom. When Stan and Ford caught wind of this, they started searching everywhere, but even they can’t find them.” She said this as if Stan and Ford were far more likely to find the twins than the police, who were undoubtedly also looking for them if they were missing.

But maybe they weren’t really missing.

He’d met them in the Unknown, after all.

Except that didn’t make sense. No matter how many times he tried to reconcile it, it didn’t add up. He and Greg had hardly been gone any time at all. They’d returned the same night despite spending more than one night in the Unknown. But then he’d woken up in the hospital again after being back in the Unknown. He remembered months of this reality, months he wasn’t even sure he’d really lived if he’d been in the Unknown all along. But it was summer now, just as it should be, and it had been summer for Mabel and Dipper, too…. But then again, the lantern had been burning brightly, the same lantern that the Woodsman had worked so tirelessly to keep lit. Left alone for too long, it should have gone out.

Something wasn’t right.

Something wasn’t real.

Or something was blurring the lines.

“I know that look.” Wendy again. “You know something. Please, tell me. They’re my friends, too.”

Why put signs in the woods, advertising where there was no road for them to be seen?

Wirt took a step back.

He never should have let Greg go off on his own. The Mystery Shack was small; that was to his advantage. If he yelled, Greg would hear him. But if he yelled, they would know—

Wendy vaulted over the counter, somehow easily clearing the various knickknacks and the jar of fake eyeballs for sale on the side. Her feet hit the floor with a thud. A hollow thud. There was a basement under here. He wondered whether this place, with all its fake attractions, hid its secrets below or above or in plain sight.

“Wirt. What do you know? Tell me. It’s important.”

Always doing what you’re told. Beatrice’s voice, sounding through his head. He hadn’t imagined meeting her any more than he had imagined meeting the twins, but if this wasn’t imagination, either….

If neither was imagination, then something was fabrication, and he didn’t know which. Not the twins, surely, if Wendy seemed to know them, but….

“Darkened dreams where demons run,” Wirt whispered as he took another step back, “twisting truth till all is done.”

Nice illusions make the best traps.

Just because he was free of the Unknown, it didn’t mean he was free of the Beast. This might be a trick, part of some plan he didn’t understand. He didn’t know what had happened. Dipper and Mabel must have done something, but what if he wasn’t really back? What if this was just the dream world? Did that mean that the Beast was controlling him back in the Unknown?

He stepped back against something—the vending machine, his memory supplied—and Wendy’s hand shot out to catch his arm. “Wirt! What’s going on? What demons are running around?”

He shook his head even as her grip tightened. That was just a snatch of poetry that seemed to fit his situation. Everything felt twisted, sculpted to suit the Beast, and he didn’t know—

Wendy pulled him up by his shirt and looked him in the eye. “Spill,” she hissed as he yelped and then found himself struggling for air, feet kicking uselessly against smooth plastic in an effort to find purchase and maybe help him get free. “Now. Dipper and Mabel are in trouble, and if you don’t tell me what you know—”

“Wirt!” came Greg’s cry, barely overrode by Mr. Mystery’s, “Wendy, what are you doing?”

Wendy dropped him, but one hand was closed around his wrist before he could run. “Soos, he knows what happened to Dipper and Mabel.”

Mr. Mystery—Soos—looked startled and put one of his hands on Greg’s head. It was meant to keep him from running as much as to calm him, Wirt suspected bitterly. “How could they know?”

“Don’t know. The squirt might be clueless, but this one definitely isn’t.”

“Wirt?” Greg asked slowly, giving truth to Wendy’s words. “What is she talking about?”

Wirt, not convinced he could break free of Wendy’s grip, just shook his head.

“I thought we came here for an adventure,” Greg said. “To help your friends. Like we helped Beatrice and she helped us.”

Wirt closed his eyes. “I wasn’t lying. I am trying to help them. But I need to figure out how first.” He looked at Greg, knowing he was the only one who was going to understand the significance of the next statement. “I met them in the Unknown.”

Wirt saw Soos and Wendy exchange glances as Greg tilted his head. “I don’t remember them.”

“That’s because you weren’t there.”

“But we got back together.”

Wirt shook his head again. “No. We didn’t. Or maybe we did and I…. I don’t know. I just know I was back there. And they helped me get back here. I think. I don’t know. I don’t know anything for sure. I can’t remember exactly what happened.” He turned to Wendy. “I think they might still be there.”

“And where exactly is there?” demanded Wendy.

“The Unknown,” Wirt repeated, knowing from Wendy’s narrowed eyes that she wasn’t impressed with that answer. “It’s…. I don’t know. It’s another place. People can get lost there, but things aren’t…. It’s not like here.”

“Another dimension?” asked Soos.

Wirt shrugged helplessly, but Wendy must have agreed because she finally released him. “Sounds like it. So how do we go there and bring them back?”

“I don’t know.”

“But you said—”

“I don’t know! I can’t remember. When I was with Greg, we got lost trying to find our way back to the main road. We didn’t even realize we’d crossed anything, let alone ended up in a different dimension if that’s really what it is.”

“Then how did you get out of there?”

Wirt hesitated, not sure how much he could trust his memories, and Greg said, “I just remember being cold and wet. Was that from the snow?”

“No, we’d fallen into the water. I managed to get us ashore.” If that memory was real. Maybe it had just been the snow. Or maybe…. But he didn’t want to think that this world was the fabrication. “That’s not what happened to me last time. I don’t know how I got back here. I didn’t even realize I’d left here and was back in the Unknown until I met Mabel and Dipper. I…. It’s like I woke up and they were there.”

Wendy crossed her arms. “So what do you know?”

Wirt spread his hands. “I don’t know how much of this is accurate. The Beast…. The Beast is a demon, I guess. He haunts the forest and feeds on lost souls, and he was….” Wirt stopped. There was no good way to say this. “Dipper thought the Beast had been controlling me—”

“But he had to let you go!” Greg cried. “He promised. You could go home if I stayed with him instead.”

Wirt’s chest tightened as Greg confirmed the twins’ theory. He hadn’t wanted that part to be right. He didn’t want to think that Greg would ever feel obliged to give up so much for him. He was the little brother; it was Wirt’s job to protect him, not the other way around. He’d done a terrible job of it.

“You’re not there now, kiddo,” Wendy said, “which might explain some of this.” She had taken up a defensive stance and didn’t take her eyes off Wirt.

Soos held up one finger. “Um, quick thing, but had been controlling you? As in not any longer or not currently? That seems like an important distinction.”

Wirt sighed. “I’m not sure about that, either,” he admitted. “Dipper thought he could find a loophole so that it would be over, and maybe that’s what happened. Maybe that’s why I’m back here now.” Hopefully.

“But you never left,” Greg said in a small voice.

Wirt swallowed. “I was in the hospital last Tuesday, wasn’t I?”

Greg nodded. “The fever wouldn’t break. Mom took you in the night before.”

Wendy looked from Wirt to Greg and back again before stating the obvious. “So you don’t know if you’re really safe. All you know is that you’re back here. Without the Beast, as far as you can tell.” From her tone, she could guess a number of the things he hadn’t explicitly said. Wirt nodded anyway. “And he’s haunting your dreams?”

“Not…. Well, maybe? I…. I’m not actually sure. It’s complicated. I think…. I think he’s been pulling me back into the Unknown somehow.” It made his stomach twist to think about it. If neither world was a fabrication, then maybe he had been living in two different realities. Maybe the reason he never seemed to lose much time was because he was back under the Beast’s control whenever he was close enough to the In Between for the Beast to reach out and pull him through to the Unknown.

Whenever he slept. Whenever he dreamed. If he’d left a piece of himself back in the Unknown—

“Is this my fault?” whispered Greg.

“No, it’s not.” Wirt stared at Wendy, daring her to contradict him. She didn’t. Maybe she had a little brother, too. He hesitated and looked over at Greg. “You escaped. You’re free. That’s the important part. So try not to blame yourself for my mistakes. Can you do that?”

Greg nodded.

Wirt bit his lip. “I wish I understood this better. I’d give anythi—”

Wendy’s hand was suddenly clamped over his mouth. “Don’t finish that thought. Don’t even think it. That’s too dangerous, even in here. He’s too close.”

Who’s too close? But Wirt knew the answer to that, now that he knew the Beast wasn’t the only demon to roam the realms. Mabel and Dipper had been worried about Bill Cipher. He, too, was supposed to be gone, just like the Beast, but—

It’s usually not that easy to get rid of a demon.

Since Dipper had evidently been talking from experience, he should know. But they wouldn’t have told Wirt about their demon unless they suspected he could still get to them despite whatever they had done. Hadn’t they thought this Bill Cipher was the one who had trapped them in the Unknown? Maybe demons liked deals enough to strike them with each other and this one ensured the Pines twins were lost in the woods so the Beast could claim them.

In all fairness, Wirt wasn’t exactly sure someone like Mabel could ever be claimed by the Beast—she was entirely too much like Greg for that to happen any way but deliberately—but it wasn’t likely that demons actually struck fair deals.

Whatever had been between him and the Beast…. He had to hope that it was over, that Dipper had successfully found a loophole. Except it couldn’t be over, not if Mabel and Dipper were still in there. He’d…he’d have to find a way back. Not with Greg; he wouldn’t risk Greg again. And he might not know Wendy or Soos, but he didn’t really want to risk them, either.

If…if he didn’t come back, someone would have to see Greg home, and Wirt was sure they’d do that.

“I’m calling Stan,” Wendy said, putting her cell phone up to her ear. “He and Ford need to hear everything you can tell them. Until they get here, stay at Old Man McGucket’s. No exploring. We can’t risk that.”

“Risk what?” Greg asked, looking up at Soos.

No one answered.

Wirt had no idea where Stan and Ford had been coming from, but the Pines brothers arrived at Gravity Falls within two hours. Wendy had insisted on babysitting them in the meantime, even though Greg had spent much of that time happily chatting with Fiddleford McGucket, the man who owned the mansion Wendy had mentioned. Wirt wasn’t entirely sure how someone like Fiddleford could afford to live here, but he knew better than to ask. He was just grateful to have a roof over their heads while they were here.

Wirt had half-hoped that Greg would set off exploring the mansion before everyone else arrived, but he listened very attentively as Wirt recounted what he remembered. Soos had closed up shop for the occasion, but even with Greg counting among Wirt’s audience of six, it felt like there were too many people here. This was his story. His mistake. Did they really all need to bear witness to it?

Wirt knew that was silly; it just meant he had six more people who could help him figure this out. And as reluctant as he had been to involve Greg, having his brother here helped to ground him. Of course, Greg would occasionally chime in with questions Wirt couldn’t answer—Was the lake near where we took the ferry to Adelaide’s? So what happened to the Woodsman? Couldn’t you have wished on a star and visited Cloud City, too?—which invariably led to a discussion of the first time they’d ended up in the Unknown. Greg remembered that time with far more fondness than Wirt did. To him, it really had just been an adventure.

Not a nightmare.

The discussion invariably turned to ways to get Dipper and Mabel back safely. While the others started arguing over different tactics and possible strategies, Ford pulled Wirt into another room. Wirt might not have been able to figure out who was who right after meeting Stan and Ford, but it became very clear that Ford was the more serious of the two, for all that everyone seemed to care deeply about the younger Pines twins. Stan liked to joke, coming up with crazy ideas that must have some hope of working since they weren’t immediately dismissed by the others, while Ford….

Ford had a look in his eye Wirt recognized from the face that had been haunting him in the mirror since he’d woken up in that hospital room. There was grim determination in there, sure, but it was touched by fear. Not just fear of the unknown, of not knowing what had happened, but fear born of the intimate knowledge of what may have happened.

It made Wirt think there had been far more going on in this town than the newspapers had ever reported, even the columns that seemed at first glance to be fanciful stories written merely for entertainment.

The door shut on the others, closing them off, and Ford turned to Wirt. “I’m not going to leave those kids to the mercy of another demon,” he said quietly, “but I’m not about to dismiss the possibility that this is a trick, either. I’ve been tricked too many times to blindly believe anything anymore.”

Wirt didn’t know what to say to that—he still didn’t know if this was a trick, either—so he just nodded.

“If Dipper was right, and I have no reason to believe he wasn’t, you were possessed by the Beast. Whether or not Dipper truly found a loophole in your deal with him is a moot point as long as that connection is still there. We’ll need to break that to prevent further interpretations of your contract, especially if you aren’t sure of the terms.”

Wirt opened his mouth to ask how he was supposed to do that when Ford added, “But until then, we can use that connection to our advantage.”

“How?”

Ford smiled, but it was far from reassuring. “Meet me at the Mystery Shack in three hours, and I’ll show you.”

Soos apparently had to go out for a family dinner at the local café—Wirt didn’t ask, though there was obviously more to the story judging by the looks he’d received—and Stan had muttered about seeing to a few things so they could mount the rescue mission. Fiddleford had gotten excited about this prospect and stuck to Stan like glue, which he hadn’t looked thrilled about. Ford had obviously been expected to join them, but he’d said something about splitting up in order to have enough time to cover everything. The argument had still been going on when Wendy had pulled them away and told them to find costumes to wear.

She had agreed to take them out for Summerween before she met up with her friends, though she did say it would be fine if they decided to stick around. When Wendy had handed them both pails for candy, Wirt hadn’t argued. He didn’t mind the implication that he needed a babysitter this time; now, it worked to his advantage. It meant he could be sure Greg was sufficiently distracted.

Ford had never told him to come alone, but if Wirt was going to keep Greg out of this, he had to be sneaky about it. When they were passing the edge of town nearest the Mystery Shack, Wirt bent down to tie his shoe and waved the others ahead, promising that he’d catch up soon. By some stroke of luck, Greg believed him, and Wendy—if she had any doubts—didn’t call him on it.

Wirt fiddled with his shoelace for a few moments, waiting for them to get farther ahead before running into the woods. This time, the random signage was to his advantage, and he’d smuggled a flashlight along with a first aid kit under his cloak, so he could see where he was going without depending on the light of the (admittedly waxing) moon now that the sun had set.

Despite that, he nearly jumped out of his skin when a voice said, “That disguise won’t fool anyone.”

Wirt scrambled for the fallen flashlight before climbing back to his feet and brushing at his clothes. He swung the flashlight around wildly, looking for the source of the voice. The beam bounced off tree trunks and broken branches, leafy shrubs and spider webs, but nothing— “Who’s there?”

“Little lower there, Stretch. We ain’t all as tall as you.”

Wirt swallowed but lowered the flashlight. If he weren’t already acquainted with talking frogs, pumpkin-wearing skeletons, or bluebirds that had once been people, he would have found the idea of gnomes more disconcerting. Self-consciously, he straightened his hat. “Um…can I help you?”

“More me that’s helping you, unless you’re going to take over my post. I pulled the short straw when Shmebulock overindulged again.” The gnome squinted at Wirt and scratched at his grey beard. “No, you’re not from here. You’re one of those that’ve been drawn here.”

Wirt blinked. “What?”

The gnome pointed in the direction Wirt had been running. “The statue. It calls some of ‘em. Like you. ‘Smy job to make sure you don’t get where you’re going. So turn around or I’ll raise the alarm.”

“What?”

“Go on. Turn. Go back wherever you came from.”

“But…. I can’t.”

“Suit yourself,” said the gnome, and then he whistled, a shrill piercing thing that had Wirt wincing and reaching to cover his ears.

The whistle cut off abruptly. Wirt lowered his hands slowly, noticing an increased rustling in the underbrush that he wasn’t naïve enough to attribute to wind or the usual forest wildlife. And then his sweeping flashlight beam caught a second gnome, and a third, and then he started seeing them by the dozens.

He took a step back. “You don’t understand.”

“We understand plenty,” the first gnome said, grinning in a feral way that showed off rows of sharp teeth. He didn’t advance, but Wirt had no illusions about what would happen if he tried to continue in this direction. He didn’t want to get mobbed.

Wirt took another step back and shook his head, for all the good that would do. “I don’t care about whatever statue thing you’re talking about. I just need to get to the Mystery Shack.”

More gnomes had appeared, every eye tracking him. It was unnerving.

Wirt didn’t know what else to do, so he kept talking. “I’m—I’m trying to help my friends. Maybe you know them. Mabel and Dipper Pines?”

The hushed silence erupted into chatter, and finally a different gnome stepped forward, this one looking younger than most of the others. “You are acting on behalf of Mabel?”

“Um…I guess?”

“Or for Mabel?”

“Uh.” Wirt didn’t know why this mattered. “For her? She and Dipper—”

“We could tie him up,” a third gnome suggested.

“Throw him in the lake,” said another.

“—gag him—”

“—leave ‘im for the Manotaurs—”

“—the Multi-Bear—”

Wirt didn’t understand half of the snippets of conversation he caught, but he didn’t need to. “She needs my help!” he yelled over the din. “They both do. And they won’t get that if I can’t get to the Mystery Shack.”

The gnome who had been questioning him held up a hand, and with some grumblings, the others quieted. “Carson, escort him to the Mystery Shack. Don’t show him any mercy if he tries to lose you and double back. Steve and Jason, take his shift. Looks like this is an extra security night.” There were a few more mutterings, but no one challenged the arrangement, and Wirt soon found himself with the first gnome as his escort.

The others—except, presumably, for Steve and Jason, and the brown-bearded one who had been giving orders—vanished with unsettling stealth, quite different from the show they’d made in appearing.

Wirt, happy enough to leave behind whatever that had been, followed Carson in silence for a moment before finally asking, “What statue?”

“We don’t talk about it.”

“But I don’t know what it is!”

“That’s the way to keep it.”

“But what did you mean when you said I was drawn to it?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“But—”

“No one’ll tell you differently.” Carson picked up his pace, moving much faster than something with such short legs should. Wirt ended up practically jogging after him and spending all his energy trying to keep the gnome in sight and not eating a mouthful of dirt, which effectively put an end to the questioning.

He panicked when he finally lost sight of Carson entirely, only to hear, “Thanks for the candy, Stretch!” and realize that he could see the Mystery Shack through the trees—and remember that his candy pail had been left behind in the forest.

It was a good trade, as far as Wirt was concerned. He would’ve ended up giving most of his candy to Greg anyway.

Barring a few flickering lights, the Mystery Shack was mostly dark when Wirt approached. The steps creaked under his weight, and he suddenly found its name much more fitting in this atmosphere. He knocked twice and tried the door. It was unlocked, but all he saw inside was a lava lamp set up on the counter by the cash register and the glow of the vending machine on the opposite wall.

“You sure you know what you’re getting into?”

Wirt shrieked and spun. That hadn’t been Carson’s voice, nor Ford’s. It had almost sounded like—

His flashlight beam caught the wax head of Larry King.

It winked at him.

He turned away quickly, sliding down to sit with his back against the counter. Maybe this was all a mistake. Surely this place was just proof that he wasn’t really back in the real world yet, that this was all just another fabrication—

The vending machine’s buttons suddenly lit up in a particular pattern. As he watched, it silently swung forward as if it were on a hinge to reveal a gaping hole. Somewhere below, light pulsed. Wirt could just make out stairs before darkness ate away at them again.

In for a penny, in for a pound?

He climbed back to his feet and aimed his flashlight at the stairs. They looked sturdy enough, and obviously someone was already down there….

He went carefully, keeping one hand along the wall above what looked to be the remains of a missing railing. The other hand held the flashlight so it illuminated both his feet and the stairs before him. Very quickly, however, he didn’t need it; the light from below grew stronger, and as he put his flashlight away, he found himself in a laboratory of some sort.

Correction: what had once been a laboratory of some sort and had since been abandoned.

Wirt’s eyes swept over a number of exposed wires and clearly cobbled-together circuitry that were visible under the flickering lights. More than one screen had odd stripes of colour across it, and a couple were even cracked. He bit his lip and edged away from the nearest shower of sparks coming from a thick cable connected to a lever sticking out of the floor. The movement didn’t take him any nearer Ford, who was bending over some kind of key panel. “Is this…safe?”

Ford didn’t even turn around. “No.”

“Then why are we even down here? This place looks like a fire waiting to happen!”

This time, Ford did look at Wirt. “We don’t have a choice. We need to rip a hole into another dimension. I’ve done what repairs I can in the time we have, but I don’t want to leave Dipper and Mabel in another nightmare for any longer than I have to. Now come here. I need to analyze your brainwaves if I’m going to find the right dimension.”

“You…what?”

Ford sighed. “That Unknown of yours isn’t the only dimension. If the Beast is tied to it and you’re tied to the Beast, then you’re the best option for finding the right place. We’re much safer if we aren’t doing this blind, and from the sounds of it, you’ve been there frequently.” He held up his hands, which contained what looked like suction cups on the end of wires. “Come here.”

Wirt swallowed but allowed Ford to attach him to the machine. “What happens if this goes wrong?”

“Depending on what happens, you might not even know.”

“Comforting,” Wirt muttered. His fingers tightened their grip on his hat and twisted. “What, uh, are you hoping is going to happen?”

“Something I never wanted to see again.” Ford handed him a length of rope and a clip, pointed to a metal grip attached to the console, and added, “Tie yourself on.”

Wirt did as he was told, trying his best to mimic Ford’s own makeshift harness as the man fiddled with something on the console. The numbers on the nearest screen looked specific, but they weren’t coordinates. If it was part of a code, it seemed too complicated to be easily broken, even by someone like Ford who talked as if he’d done this sort of thing before. The numbers changed even when Ford seemed to barely touch a dial, and it all looked a little too much like guesswork for Wirt’s comfort. Needing a rope didn’t exactly fill him with confidence, either. “What’s this for?”

In answer, Ford walked over to a giant lever on the floor and threw his weight into pushing it forward.

Light exploded.

Wirt squawked and instinctively closed his eyes, but it wasn’t enough. Colours danced against his eyelids, red shining through, and then—

Darkness began eating away at the light, a tiny solar eclipse.

Gravity decided to stop working properly.

Wirt’s hat was torn from his grip. He saw it fly through the portal, there and gone in the blink of an eye. He was already feet first towards it, so he twisted in a futile attempt to reach the tiny metal handle he’d attached himself to. He could see the knot of his harness slipping, weaker than the pull of the portal.

The wires tore loose from his head.

Behind him, the portal flickered.

“Just hold on!” Ford yelled. “I’m going to bring them back.” He was reaching to unclip his own harness, to let the portal drag him in. “Just keep the doorway open!”

The knot worked itself free.

Rope burned through his grip as he flew backwards.

Wirt’s scream was torn from his throat, and then the lab—Ford—everything—was gone.

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#gravity falls #over the garden wall #otgw #otgw fanfiction #otgw wirt #gf fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #crossover #my writing #ladylynse #snippets #crossover snippet #gf snippet #otgw snippet

[skywalkerchick1138]

Across the Stars - Chapter 2

AO3

Prologue - Chapter 1

Okay guys, just a warning, I'm posting this chapter un-beta'd, but I'll probably have it edited at a later date. I just wanted to get this chapter out before "The Last Jedi" was in theaters, because I know I haven't worked on this in months and even though I've got most of this fic planned out, TLJ is still bound to affect this fic going forward.

Also, I edited the prologue a bit to tweak Mabel's backstory and some of that will be mentioned in this chapter, so please go back and re-read the prologue if you haven't already. Otherwise, you're gonna be a little confused.

As always, credit for this AU goes to the ever lovely @kerbabbles

--

A piercing shriek of metal scraping against metal broke through the entombing silence of the wreck. Mabel tried not to wince at the sound grating against her eardrums as she slid the panel out. She made a mental note that she ought to add some sort of ear mufflers to her protective gear.

A gust of old stale air and dust followed in the wake of the newly opened panel, briefly clouding her goggles. But if confirmed that her suspicions were correct and excitement pooled in her chest. This section had somehow gone untouched until now. These panels were bound to be full of good, useable tech that could keep her fed for weeks! So long as she didn’t blab about it to everyone and only took small bits of it at a time. Best not to draw suspicion from the other scavengers. The jagged scar on her calf bore testimony that she’d learned that lesson the hard way.

It was tempting to overstuff her bag, though. Grabbing only the pieces she’d need today, she carefully maneuvered the panel back into place, somewhat crookedly so it would look like someone had already disturbed it. Not many people ventured out this far into the Graveyard, believing these ruins to be picked clean ages ago. But you never knew who was desperate enough; who was hungry enough.

Sighing contentedly through her muffler, Mabel drew a grappling hook from her utility belt and secured her bag across her shoulder. She fired the hook across the gap and swung over, making her way back to the entrance that was spilling into harsh sunlight. She was almost reluctant to go back outside, as the gutted innards of the ship was marginally cooler than outside. But her parched throat and empty stomach demanded that she leave. She’d run her canteen dry a half hour earlier.

Her sled full of scrap greeted her as she removed her goggles and muffler. She was panting, but grinning. This was one of her favorite parts of the day. Placing her bag on the sled before her, she climbed on gingerly and then kicked herself down the dune, laughing giddily all the way down. Take pleasure in the little things, that was her motto.

The landscape around her was dotted with the effigies of long dead ships half buried in the sands. The Graveyard of Giants, they called it. It stood in testament to a grand battle that no one in Jakku’s living memory could recall. And it was all being whittled away, bit by bit. The Graveyard had stood for decades, maybe even centuries as far as Mabel knew. But one day it would have no more scrap to give.

Mabel didn’t think that even her grandchildren would live to see that, though.

Reaching the bottom of the dune with a dusty smile, she clambered to her feet and quickly piled her scrap into her speeder.

Today was shaping up to be a good day.

Dipper gave out a strangled scream of frustration as he tossed his wrench away, where it clattered across the deck. The engine, still emitting some waffty smoke, hissed silently back at him.

This was an absolute disaster. This was supposed to be a simple mission – just get the parts and get back to the freighter – Stan and Soos kept telling him there was nothing to worry about.

But then the First Order got involved. He’d gotten a harried, static-y message from Grunkle Stan about a Star Destroyer in orbit before it’d been cut off. And then soon after his ship’s engine had started to sputter smoke.

Dammit, this was something Soos should’ve caught during pre-flight. He was no good with mechanics and they all knew it, but normally he had Soos with him so normally this wasn’t a problem.

Now? He was stranded in the middle of the desert with an overheated engine (and nothing more, he hoped), only 3 days worth of food and water rations, and a Star Destroyer in orbit, which potentially meant Storm Troopers making their way to the planet’s surface, if not landing already.

He didn’t know for sure. The transmission between him and Grunkle Stan got jammed.

A shiver ran down his spine. His breath sped up and hitched. For all he knew, Stan and Soos might be dead now. For several minutes he knelt in the cockpit with his hand clamped over his mouth, trying to just calm down, dammit.

Surely the First Order couldn’t be here for him, right?

Once, when Dipper had just been a child, he’d been captured by the First Order. It had been the most horrific time of his life. They’d tried to recondition him, make him a Storm Trooper, had put him through intense physical and psychological training.

By the time Grunkle Stan rescued him, he’d barely remembered his own name.

You are MN-0618…No, I’m Dipper.

His life before capture was a jumbled mess of flickered half memories. If he’d had parents once, he couldn’t remember them. For as long as he could remember, Grunkle Stan and Soos were the only family he’d ever had.

Even so, there was an odd ache that didn’t go away. There was a nagging thought that something was missing. Sometimes he had vague memories of a small girl; or rather impressions of her. He couldn’t remember her face but he could just faintly remember the high-pitched sound of giggling or the smell of sugar. And it didn’t help when Stan looked at him with a certain kind of pity. The kind one might give to someone missing a limb.

It did no good asking about her, though. Every time he asked, Stan would shrug it off, change the subject, or when that didn’t work, he would just say “Some things are better left forgotten, kid.”

He’d tried asking Soos as well, but the usually chatty wookiee was just as tight lipped as Stan.

It was frustrating, Dipper didn’t like taking “no” for an answer, but the only two people who knew anything had sealed their mouths tighter than an air lock.

His head snapped up as he heard the sound of speeder bike engines. Or maybe just one? His hands fluttered anxiously as he wiped stray tears from his cheeks. He had to fight the urge to re-activate the cloaking shield – or the poor excuse of one anyway – while the engine was still recovering. He’d taken cover behind an old wreck of a Pelta-class frigate. If he was lucky, it would be enough.

Today was not a good day.

“What do you mean, a quarter-portion?!” Mabel screeched. “Last week these parts were a half-portion each!!”

Gideon Gleeful’s large, pudgy face twisted into a saccharine smile at her glare. As a child he had been tiny, smaller than Mabel even, but as the years had gone by he’d proven to be his father’s son and he had grown significantly into a hulking, top-heavy figure. Even sitting in his seat behind the rations counter, he towered over her now.

“That was last week, darlin’, but I’m afraid there’s not a demand for these anymore.”

Mabel scowled. That was the biggest load of bantha crap she’d ever heard. These couplers were always needed and she knew for a fact that no one had salvaged any in as good condition as hers. Not for at least a year.

Gideon rested his pale, freckled cheek into an equally pale hand, staring down at Mabel condescendingly. Her scowl only grew. Honestly, the Gleefuls had no right being so pale while living in the middle of a barren desert. Or so fat. (Perhaps that wasn’t entirely fair of her; she knew that half of Gideon’s pudge was pure muscle mass. Still it was no secret he was eating far better than anyone who worked for him, herself included.)

“I keep tellin’ y’all, Mabel darlin’. If you want more to eat tonight, you can install that fuel pump on the ship for lil’ old me.”

The ship in question was a rotting old freighter that hadn’t flown in years. It’s exterior name plate had mostly faded away with nothing more than a few letters spelling out “Th My Sha”. There was nothing wrong with wanting to get it running again, really. The problem was that Gideon was insistent on installing the stupidest modifications known to anyone. The ship, referred to by the locals as The Mysha for lack of it’s full title, was full of an odd patchwork of mods and fixes, and Gideon’s additions would do nothing to help. If anything, it would make the ship that much more likely to blow up on take-off. He apparently thought that, just because his father owned the scrap yard, he knew about ship maintenance better than anyone. Including those who spent their lives rooting through old ships instead of getting fat off of others’ labor.

But she couldn’t afford to go hungry again tonight. The last time Gideon tried to wheedle her into this and she’d refused, he’d thrown a fit and taken her rations away entirely. She needed to keep her strength up if she was going back for those other parts. “Fine.” She growled.

She didn’t like the way Gideon’s face lit up at that. Ever since they’d met as children, he’d taken an intense and rather creepy infatuation with her. She supposed that that, more than anything else, was why he strong-armed her into working on that decrepit freighter. True, she did know her way around a ship, but certainly there were better mechanics at this outpost.

“Perfect!” Gideon exclaimed. “Go talk to Daddy, he’ll give ya the parts y’all need. I’ll come check on your progress in an hour.”

Mabel made to grab the rations lying on the counter window between them, but Gideon got to them first, slapping a hand down on them just as her fingers brushed the rough plastic packaging.

“Don’t worry, my dumpling.” Gideon crooned. “You’ll get paid once you’re done.”

Mabel drew her hand away dejectedly. She turned on her heel, her back facing Gideon and paused. She’d really like to have spat some choice words at him. Her shoulders tensed, the words rising in her throat like bile. But she couldn’t. And he knew it. She could feel his smug gaze on her as she reluctantly walked away.

Well, there was something to be said for mechanics as a distraction. At least this way she wasn’t paying as much attention on her desperately gurgling stomach. Mabel wiped the back of her hand across her brow and pulled a faded pink bandana from her belt. She tied it up into a makeshift headband, pulling her growing bangs out of her face, and continued with her work. Installing modifications that she knew would do no good and repairing any damage Gideon had done.

He certainly had been through here today, too. She found his shoddy repair work everywhere she turned, it seemed. Sometimes she wondered if he broke things just to have the excuse to make Mabel fix them.

Not that he would’ve found that task difficult. The Mysha was older than Mabel and Gideon combined, and at least twice as old as Gideon’s father, Bud Gleeful. And it was showing its age, too. She surmised that very little of the freighter’s original hull remained, the rest being a patchwork of scrap and questionably legal installations collected over the decades.

She rather liked it. It had a lot of personality.

Sometimes, Mabel thought about taking The Mysha for herself - it had a rather long and proud history of trading hands through theft – but she always stopped herself. She…she couldn’t just leave.

“We’ll come back for you, Mabel! I promise!”

She had to stay put. She had to.

That was when she heard it; just the faintest, indistinct whisper. Her head jerked up. The dimly lit corridor before her was empty and still.

“Hello?” She called out.

No one answered. Cautiously, Mabel directed her attention back to the power couplings before her. Now, she just had to rewire this one, maybe some electrical tape to hold over the other one. Bud hadn’t given her enough couplings to replace this one…

…Ma…

There it was again. She pushed her goggles up to her head, trying to inspect the gloom before her, but again the hall was empty.

“Who’s there?” Mabel called out again. Again, no one answered. But something felt…different. She couldn’t describe it. The air was still and growing tense around her and yet at the same time…

…Ma…el…

There was a small, pinpricking sense of…light? Serenity?...coming from the passenger hold. She didn’t even quite know how she knew which direction it was, she just did. Slowly, as if in a trance, she got to her feet, her tools lying on the deck forgotten.

The closer she got, the feeling got stronger by just the barest degrees.

Mabel

The passenger lounge was dim and empty when she reached it, and yet there was a small but strong hum of that peaceful feeling in the room. She took a small cursory glance around. Nothing seemed out of place; an old pilot’s helmet here, some sort of training remote there…that hydrospanner she’d misplaced last month was on the dejarrik table. Huh. Other than that, nothing seemed really…

A small glint of metal met her eye from under the game table. Getting down on her hands and knees, she reached down underneath the table and pulled out a small object.

It was a strange little cube. She’d never seen anything like it; it was just a small, palm-sized cube, colored maroon and gold -was that real gold?- and as she turned it in her hands, she found a golden six-fingered hand on its face with a black number 2 etched into it.

This. This was what was emitting that weird feeling. She could practically feel it pulsing in her palms. But stranger still, she couldn’t find any emitters or energy outputs on it. It was…just a pretty box.

She’d never seen it before; it certainly hadn’t been here yesterday. She’d been through every cabinet and closet and compartment the old ship had to offer, and she was sure the Gleefuls had done the same before she’d ever set foot on the ship. So where had it come from?

The box was still humming in her hands, like it was waiting for her to do something. Slowly, almost unconsciously, her eyes began to flutter closed…

“Oh, Mabel!” Gideon’s voice rang sharply through the corridor. Her eyes snapped back open. Her hands clenched around the box and it had stopped it’s humming. The peaceful air that had been slowly enveloping her was now gone, as if shattered by the other’s presence.

“Mabel, darlin’! Where’d you go?”

“I-I’m in here!” She called back automatically. She snapped the satchel on her belt open and quickly shoved the cube into it. She’d just barely managed to snap it back shut just as Gideon’s towering form came in. Suspiciously, his eyes narrowed just a fraction, giving her a quick once-over.

“What’re you doing in here, dumpling?”

“I…” Mabel’s mind scrambled for an explanation. “I was – was short a few power couplings. Just trying to see if there were any spares in here. Yeah.”

Gideon was silent for a few moments longer. “Daddy should’ve given you all the parts ya needed.” He said finally. “I’ll talk to him about getting you ‘nother tomorrow.”

She breathed a quiet sigh of relief and followed Gideon back down the corridor to inspect her work. He deemed it satisfactory despite being incomplete and within 30 minutes she was perched atop her speeder and headed home.

Well, three quarter portions was better than nothing.

Just as the sun began to set, the familiar sight of her shelter came into view. It was an old AT-AT walker that was laying on its side, half buried in the sand and hollowed out like the corpse of a long dead beast. A ratty tarp was spread across its sprawled limbs, shielding the entrance from the sun’s harsh light. Nestled near the AT-AT’s half buried head-shaped cockpit was her moisture vaporator, still clunking away despite all odds.

Quickly, she parked her speeder beneath the tarp and crawled through the passageway into a small living space. The walls were littered with tally marks counting her days on Jakku scratched into them, along with the occasional graffiti reading “Lee wuz here!” or the image of a muffin-shaped cloud; one which Robbie had insisted many times was meant to be an explosion. More than once, Mabel had wondered how she had once managed to share this space with four older and larger teens when she barely fit the space now on her own.

It was also short of one lizard by the name of Craz. Mabel tried not to be too disappointed by this, it was only natural for him to look for food elsewhere.

Silently, she prepared a make-shift pan and set to work. Two of the portions she received were placed in the pan to be cooked, but the third was stored away in what passed for a cupboard. Just in case she came home empty handed again. She poured some water from her canteen into her only plate and mixed in a beige powder. Her lips quirked up in a little smile as she watched the powder quickly form and rise into a small loaf of bread. It never tasted that great, but she couldn’t deny it was just the tiniest bit cool to watch.

Soon she was outside, propped up against one of the walker’s feet as she licked the last bit of her meal away from her plate. Stuffing the last bit of bread in her mouth, she tossed her plate in the sand beside her and gazed up at the sky. Today had been…well, it’d been weird. She hadn’t gotten as much portions as she would’ve liked, and then there was that cube to consider.

Reaching into the satchel on her belt, she pulled the cube back out. She turned it over in her hands a few times as she considered it, but the weird peaceful energy it’d been giving off before didn’t come back. Maybe she’d just imagined it?

She shook her head. There had to be something more to it. It couldn’t just be a bit of décor.

“Well, come on,” she prompted it. “Do something.”

Silence.

Annoyed, Mabel shook it for emphasis. “What the hey-hey?! You were pretty chatty earlier!”

Still nothing.

Mabel groaned in frustration. What’d happened earlier that would make the thing call her name and make her feel calm but it wouldn’t do it now? It’d stopped when Gideon barged in, so she knew she had to at least be alone. But she was alone now and it wasn’t doing anything. Maybe there was something more on her part that she needed to do?

She brought the cube to eye level and tried to focus all her attention on it, willed it to open. When that didn’t work, she clamped her eyes shut and focused harder. A few moments went by and she peeked one eye open. It still hadn’t moved or done anything.

She sighed and dropped the cube back into her lap. Maybe…she was just trying too hard? The cube had made her feel calm and peaceful earlier. Maybe she needed to be calm too. Gently, her eyes slipped shut and she just tried to empty her thoughts. Just clear your mind, she thought to herself. Focus on your breathing…

Within a few minutes the peaceful energy creeped back into her awareness. She let it in and it slowly enveloped her body like a warm embrace.

As her eyes were shut, she didn’t notice how the golden corners began to turn opened. The cube began to glow a gentle blue.

Suddenly a mechanic warbling broke out across the silence of the desert and Mabel’s eyes snapped back open. She shot up, only barely remembering to shove the cube back into her pouch. The warbling noise sounded off again and this time she heard an aggravated voice following it. They were close by and whatever had made the noise sounded distressed.

Quickly, she grabbed her grappling hook in one hand and ran out across the dune towards the noise.

Several hundred miles away, a lone figure stumbled aimlessly across the barren dunes. Wendy Corduroy had finally shaken off her pursuers in what could only have been described as a ship graveyard, but her speeder had gotten destroyed in the process. And now she had been wandering all day, trying to find a settlement.

Her throat was parched and if it hadn’t been for her hat, she was sure her face would’ve been sunburned to hell and back. Her knees were quaking, her legs threatening to give out from under her.

As she crested another dune, she came across the wreck of a Pelta-class freighter. And behind it…was that the wing of a shuttle? She squinted. Yes it was, and…there! There was someone trying to work on it!

“Hey!” She called out hoarsely. The figure’s head turned in her direction and she shakily ran down the dune as fast as her aching legs would carry her. She waved her empty hands in the air. “Help!”

The figure – a brown-haired boy wearing a tan and red jacket, who looked to be only a few years younger than herself – hesitated for a moment, but seeing that she was unarmed, began to sprint towards her.

They reached each other at the bottom of the dune and she collapsed to her knees. He caught her before she could fall on her face.

“Are you alright??”

“I’m…” she rasped, trying in vain to wet her lips with saliva that just wasn’t there. “W-water, pl…please.”

The boy nodded, shrugged out of his coat and draped it across her shoulders. Helping her to her feet, he said, “Come on. I’ve got some rations on board.”

#Katie Writes Stuff #Gravity Falls #The Ford Awakens AU #TFA AU #Dipper Pines #Mabel Pines #Wendy Corduroy #Gideon Gleeful

[jacquelinehibbin-blog]

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[nataliedanovelist]

GF - How A Star Is Born ch.V

A Hercules AU, founded by @evaroze, whom this fic is a gift for. I hope y’all like it!

ch.IV - ch.VI

AO3 link

~~~~~~~~~~

Years went by. Both Dipper and Mabel went through vigorous training under their uncles’ supervision. After allowing Mabel to visit the world, Stanford had combat training be added to her lessons so, if needed, she could defend herself. Now a master of duel swords and a brand new goddess of the arts, Mabel spent her days inspiring humans, helping to keep Olympus beautiful and safe, and exploring the woods throughout Greece.

She also spent a lot of time talking to Dipper. At least once a week he would sit at night and draw in his journal to talk to his sister, swapping stories and inspiring each other to learn and grow.

Dipper was no longer a scrawny little boy, but a strong, muscular, clever young man of seventeen. Stan had never been more proud in his entire life, boxing with the kid and having him go through trials and tests and watching him grow up. He even managed to teach Dipper a few swears.

Stan coughed into his fist, standing at the end of the most difficult obstacle course Dipper had ever been set to. He grinned as Dipper emerged from shark-infested waters, blazing hoops, electric spikes, and racist homophobes, without a scratch on him, and Stan and Dipper high-hived and cheered and celebrated.

“You did it, kid! You were great!”

“Thanks, I couldn’t have done without you.” Dipper said with a smile.

“Obviously.” Stan smirked, earning him a soft punch in the beer belly. “Oof! Okay, okay. You go pack up, ya gremlin. We’re going to Thebes!”

“Isn’t that place, like, the worst place in Greece?” Dipper asked as they headed back to the Mystery Shack.

“You got it, you’ll be just what the doctor ordered.” Stan explained. “Young hero like you can help a lot of people in an Underworld-hole like that. Great place to start out. If you can make it at the Big Olive, you can make it anywhere.”

The men set sail before the sun rose the next morning. For some odd reason, Stan locked up the shack in a way that made it seem like they were never coming back, but Dipper assumed it was only because Stan believed that Dipper could make it big. The young man smiled, determined not to let his teacher down, and made sure they were on the right track.

After sailing across the ocean for a few hours, they floated into a river that traveled along the woods, taking a shortcut for Thebes rather than travel through the sea for Greece. Stan was resting in a chair with a cold drink in his hand, letting Dipper sail for a while, when they heard a scream.

The old man shot up and grinned. “Perfect! A damsel in distress! Good warm-up before we hit down. Lower the anchor here.”

Dipper did as he was told and they crept down the river for the waterfall, where they saw a young lady stumble away, groaning and growling in her throat.

The girl had long, beautiful blonde hair and stunning blue eyes that crackled like raging fire, wearing a long baby-blue dress. She hurried to her feet but was soon scooped up by the enemy that came around the river bend.

A huge Manotaur with a toga around his waist was so huge he grabbed the woman in his fist around the waist. “Not so fast, sweetheart.” He growled.

“Put me down right now, Chutzpah, or I’ll…!” The woman threw a punch at the monster, but he held her away and laughed.

“I like ‘em fiery!”

“HEY!” Dipper yelled from the riverbank and stomped on the river, leaving Stan in the bushes to munch on some popcorn.

“My money’s on Hooves.”

The girl and Chutzpah stared at the newcomer and the monster growled, “Beat it, twerp, I’m busy.”

“Sorry, mister, but you’re gonna let her go, or…”

“Keep moving, junior.” The girl sneered.

“... or I’ll…” Dipper’s sentence dropped and shattered. “But aren’t you… er, a damsel in distress?”

“I’m a damsel.” The woman said as she tried to pull herself free from the giant fist. “I’m in distress. I can handle this. Have a nice day.” She said with a sly grin with cold blue eyes.

Dipper swallowed and cleared his throat, reaching for his sword. “Uh, ma’am, I think you might be too close to this situation to realize your…” But the Manotaur punched him with so much force that Dipper flew onto a big boulder on the other side of the river.

Stan winced while Chutzpah laughed and the damsel looked bored. “C’mon kid, shake it off!” The old man coached.

Dipper charged, leaving his sword behind, and started to toss left and right hooks back and forth and landing, making the monster dizzy, and then used his head to hit him so hard it was his turn to fly back onto a hard surface, landing behind the waterfall and dropping the girl in the process.

“YES! That’s what I’m talking about, sport! Keep it up!”

“UGH!”

Dipper looked down at the wet girl and gently scooped her up out of the river to sit on a rock. “Oh, I’m sorry, ma’am. That was dumb… Excuse me, please.” And he and Chutzpah resumed their battle, the demigod using his strength to throw the Manotaur over his shoulder and putting him in a head-lock.

“Fight! Fight! Fight!” Stan chanted while the girl rang her hair dry, a smirk on her face.

“Not bad, not bad.”

“What are you talking about, he’s great!” Stan cheered. “Throw him a left! Atta boy!”

With one final punch, Dipper made Chutzpah the Manotaur fly up in the air and then come back crashing down face first in the water, a shiny bruise on his snooze button.

“Alright! Nice work!” Stan coached. “You could’ve gone without the distraction from a pair of big goo-goo eyes, but good recovery! Alright, let’s hit the water and move on.” And he walked off for the boat.

But once again, Dipper was distracted. The woman was rubbing her arms dry and sliding off the rock to stand, stretching her slender back; Dipper’s face felt hot and his whole body felt like it wasn’t even there. “Uh… are you alright, miss…?”

“Pacifica.” The girl said with a voice that dripped with sarcasm, like she believed she had better things to do than be standing here and talking to him, but she didn’t know what. “I’m fine. Thanks for the save. So, you got a name to go with all those rippling pectorals?”

“Uh… um, ah… I’m uh… uh…”

“Don’t speak Greek or something?”

“Dipper!” The man cleared his throat and answered in a calmer tone. “M-My name is Dipper. How did you get mixed up with the…”

“Knucklehead with hooves?” Pacifica finished for him. “Ah, you know how men are. They all think ‘no’ means ‘yes,’ and ‘get lost’ means ‘take me, I’m yours.’ Well, thanks for everything, Dip. Bye-bye.” And Pacifica began to walk away.

“Wait!” Dipper called out quickly, a reflex of seeing someone beautiful and cool-headed going away, and he offered sheepishly, “Uh, c-c-can I give you a ride on my boat, erm, me and Stan’s boat?”

“I’m fine,” Pacifica giggled coldly. “I’m a big tough girl, I tie my own sandals and everything. I can look after myself. See ya, Dippin’ Dots.” And Dipper watched as she disappeared beneath a hill.

“Uh… bye.” Dipper said weakly, clumsy on his feet as Stan sailed their small boat behind him, going down the river for Thebes.

“OY! Knucklehead! We going or what?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah… yeah…”

Dipper pulled himself on board, smiling with his head in the clouds. Stan sighed and shook his head, muttering, “Twitterpated.”

As Pacifica walked further and further into the woods, the atmosphere got darker and darker. The young lady walked as coldly as the air, unafraid and all too familiar with who was approaching her. When a huge gust of blue fire erupted from the Earth and a floating triangle appeared before the teenage girl, she rolled her eyes and sneered, “Great, I needed cheddar for dinner.”

Bill cackled as he held his three-sided body and kicked his legs in the air. “Oh, my little Llama. Care to explain what exactly happened?” He made a chess board appear before him with various pieces of monsters and anomalies on the board. “I thought you were gonna persuade the River Guardian to join my team for the uprising and, here I am, kinda River Guardian-less.”

“I gave it my best shot,” Pacifica said coldly as she flicked Chutzpah off the board. “But he made an offer I had to refuse.”

“Okay, fine,” Bill replied as he made the board disappear, closing it like a book. “Instead of taking two year from your lifetime sentence, Imma add two on, okay? You got your best shot?”

Pacifica groaned and walked away, leaning against a dead tree. “Look, it wasn’t my fault, okay. It was this Wonderboy who beat your Manotaur up.”

“Wonderboy?” Bill repeated.

“Some new hero who came with this big innocent farm-boy routine, but I could see through that in a Peloponnesian minute.” Pacifica said with a cold snap of her fingers.

“New hero, huh?” Bill said, a hand to what might have been his chin but was really just under his eye. “If some new guy is beating up my minions it could weaken our chances of over-throwing Sixer…” The demon stopped his talking when he heard a voice. He swooped Pacifica up into the trees as a dark cloud, just in time to hide from the intruder.

Mabel was running through the woods with a pig at her feet. He had grown quite large since the young muse had met the pig, and now they both ran as fast as they could, but the teenage girl made it to a tree first, planting a hand on it, making the dead tree sprout leaves with life, and she jumped and cheered and punched the air. “That’s twenty-two for me… How about twenty-two out of forty-five?” She asked Waddles.

The big tired pig flopped over and showed his belly lazily. Mabel awed and fell to her knees to scratch him. “Aw, you’re just a big dummy-dumb. C’mon, why don’t we go see if Grunkle Ford is too busy to hang out. This Mabel’s gotta have some family time.” And she picked up her pet pig and skipped back home.

Bill plunged back onto the ground, dropping Pacifica, who sat on a rock boringly, as Bill glowed red with fire and yelled loudly, “WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!” And soon every tree circling them was no more.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Who’s a cute lil guy? You are!” Gideon said into his hand mirror, sitting at the front desk of the Underworld.

The huge doors flew open as Bill, still red and fiery with anger, entered and grew to the size of a giant before his minion. “YOU SAID YOU TOOK CARE OF THE TWINS!”

“The what now?” Gideon asked calmly.

Bill towered down at the white-haired chubby teenager and bellowed, “Sixer’s brats! The ones destined to stop me from ruling this dimension! You said they were dead as doornails! But the girl is still alive!”

“Yeah, so?” Gideon asked. “The prophecy said both twins had to be there for you to lose. There’s only one. So there. And besides it took you seventeen years to realize Stanford was still dotting on his niece. If anything you suck at keeping up with your own prey.”

Bill shrunk down, shaking with anger and still red, but he had to admit that the jerk was right. “Fine, but the boy, Mason, is dead, right?”

“More or less.”

“”WHAT DO YOU MEAN MORE OR LESS?!”

“He will be when the mortal world is done with him.” Gideon sneered with a crooked smile. “That scrawny twerp doesn’t stand a chance in Thebes.”

“And you know all of this HOW?!”

“It’s fun watching him struggle and lose.” Gideon admitted with a shrug.

“I’m not taking any chances!” Bill yelled and floated away. “We’ve got one year until I can free my friends and take over this dimension! Since I can’t curse Shooting Star into a mortal, I can still kill Pinetree.”

“I’m telling you,” Gideon said, following his boss. “That loser doesn’t stand a chance. I know just who to send to kill him.”

And Bill’s anger melted away as he listened to his minion’s plan and helped make it better.

#GF #gravity falls au #fanfiction #hercules #dipper pines #mabel pines #stan pines #pacifica northwest #bill cipher #hope you like it!!! #gift