darkspine10 - Tumblr blog

darkspine10 · 24 days

Text

GF Fanfic - Return to the Roots

Tangled Roots (36,063 words) by darkspine10

Chapters: 7/7

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Rating: Mature

Preston Northwest had just sat down in his kitchen to enjoy his french toast and omelette when the doorbell rang and interrupted his tranquillity. He considered ignoring it until the bell rang a second time, and then incessantly. Sighing, he abandoned his breakfast and morning newspaper. The local Gossiper had never been an outstanding example of journalism, but he was still mildly offended that his daily ritual had been interrupted.

He sometimes wondered why he stayed in this town after all the humiliations he’d endured. It was his ancestral seat, yes, but no-one would blame him for getting away from all the reminders of the ways his pride had been dented. The locals were ignorant, the rustic, rural air didn’t agree with him, and the less said about ‘the mystical side’ of the valley the better.

Preston unlocked the door, ready to give a thrashing to whatever two-bit salesperson, teenager with a petition for him to sign, or lost tourist happened to present themselves. What he was not expecting was a figure out of an abattoir.

Standing in his doorway was a woman covered from head to toe in hot, dripping blood. Preston had to suppress the urge to heave from the tangy stench, before he had a flicker of recognition. “Pacifica?”

“Hey, dad.” His daughter weakly grinned. “Long time no see.”

“Are you-”

“It’s not my blood. Mostly.” In one hand his daughter was carrying a giant woodcutter’s axe, and for a split second he thought this was some karmic punishment come to take retribution. Then Pacifica grimaced and asked to come in. She had to repeat herself, so dazed was he by the question. “I said we need somewhere to rest and clean up.” She gestured to a queue of strangers lined up on the pathway leading from the wall around the front garden. They were a shabby and tired looking bunch, covered in dirt and their clothes ragged.

Preston raised his nose in a sneer, but his daughter’s insistent look wore him down. It was such a rare opportunity to even see her these days that he felt obliged to accept her bizarre request. “Oh, very well. As long as they-” The column of invaders charged past him into the house and up the stairs towards the shower. “-wipe their feet,” he lamely finished. “Care to come in?” he tentatively offered to his daughter.

Pacifica thought about it, seeming to give it genuine consideration. That was a change from the frostiness with which she’d treated him and her mother on the occasion of their last meeting, at the wedding with whatshisname, that Pines lad. “Yeah, why not,” Pacifica said, hefting the axe and plodding inside.

She walked straight through and sat down, right in his minimalist white kitchen. He winced; that seat cushion would be stained forevermore. She leant the axe against the table, her eyes gazing hungrily at his breakfast. “Can I have something to eat? I’m famished.”

“Why yes,” he said politely, “don’t mind if you-” She grabbed his french toast and tore into it like an animal. When she noticed his offended glare, she said, “sorry, I’ve had a busy night and not eaten much.”

Preston was about to act deferential and excuse her minor savagery, but baulked on seeing that Pacifica’s retinue even included two of those bumpkin lumberjacks, the Corduroys. They were wandering in like they owned the place, gawking at his neatly arranged shelves and modern furniture. They made their upstairs with the rest of the rabble.

Stepping around the muddy footprints and trying to ignore the heavy footfalls from above, Preston slid into the kitchen. “What exactly has been going on?”

“Demon, at the graveyard, I killed it.” She seemed too tired to explain further. Preston dropped vacantly into the opposite chair and awkwardly drummed his fingers on the table.

“Nevertheless, it’s… good to see you.”

Pacifica pursed her lips, finding it equally awkward to respond. “I wanted to put some things to rest. After last night I think I realised there was no point blaming you two for anything. Sure, a lot of my issues stem from the way I was raised, but dwelling on it won’t help me fix anything.”

Preston’s mind whirred, trying to keep up with what she was saying. “Are you trying to say you forgive us?”

Pacifica pondered it, tapping her chin, then shook her head. “Nah. Not really. I’ve been carrying around a lot of hate and I wanted to get rid of it. It’s not forgiveness, but I accept the way you were and I feel like I can move on. I hope.” She shrugged. “That’s one source of my major life issues dealt with, only like half-a-dozen left.”

“Well, you always did enjoy coming in first place. I’m sure you can handle whatever comes at you.”

For reasons he couldn’t put his finger on, Preston found Pacifica’s crooked smile ever-so unsettling. “You don’t know the half of it. Nice catch-up anyway,” The bedraggled strangers had cleaned themselves up lightly and the Corduroys were leading them down the stairs and out into the daylight. Pacifica lifted up the axe and made for the door along with them.

Preston reached out for her. “You don’t have to leave so soon. If you wait, your mother will be back from the store.”

“I’d rather not linger. I want to get home to my own shower, but first I’ve got to get these people back to their homes and families.” Pacifica shared a fond grin with the elder Corduroy as he left. He was evidently proud of something she’d done. It was an expression Preston had never teased out from his daughter himself.

As she turned to leave, Preston forced out, “I’m… pleased to see you happy. Good luck with the children, I’m sure they’ll be missing you.”

Pacifca stopped and her shoulders seemed to relax fractionally. “Well. How about that,” Preston heard her mutter. “Bye dad. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.” She lifted the axe in salute as a way of waving goodbye, then walked out the door shutting it behind her.

Preston sat there, too stunned to react. After ten minutes, he quietly smiled to himself.

“I know why I named my daughter after you.”

In the cold January afternoon, Pacifica held a single purple flower over her heart and stared down at the unadorned stone slab with Wendy’s name inscribed on it.

“It wasn’t affection,” she said. “I was guilty, pure and simple. You saved my life, you’d already made up for your mistakes. It could have easily been me who died that day. If it wasn’t for your sense of duty…” She took a deep breath. “I think it was more than that. Last night when I faced down that monster and was inches from death I felt a sort of relief! That sounds mad. But it’s true. It was an opportunity to let go of all the negativity, all the bad deeds, and just slip away. Redemption through sacrifice. I nearly gave in. Maybe that’s what was going through your head too, when you made us leave and stayed behind with Eli. I guess I’ll never know.”

She held the violet between two fingers, gazing out across the valley. Though large patches of white remained, green leaves were already sprouting. Colour and life were returning to the forest. “I said I nearly gave in. Because I suppose that’s the difference. Dying there in the dirt wouldn’t have achieved anything. No blaze of glory, no resolution. I realise now that I want to be in control of my life again. I took my body back from that beast and that was the first step. I’d like to find out what the next step is, and the step after that.”

Pacifica’s fingers lightly brushed the still-healing scratches on her arm. “It’s been a long journey to get this far. I had my old body, but it was broken. I couldn’t have kids and I used to think that made me worthless. Then I got ‘fixed’, and for a while I was happy. Except it didn’t feel like my body anymore, I didn’t belong, it was too clean and tidy. I was a foreign agent in a hostile land. Now I’m living with the constant reminders of the pregnancy. This time I think I understand. Third time luck, right? These stretch marks and imperfect shape may not be the familiar scars I used to carry, but they’ve made this body my own.”

She looked over to where her family was waiting. Mason stood respectfully, with Leah in arm, though Merrise, holding his hand, was fidgeting. She could only expect the ten year old to care so much about adult concerns, or reminiscing over someone who was basically a stranger to her.

“If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t have this family. You never were fazed by all this soul-searching stuff. Wendy Corduroy, always cool and in control. A girl who knew exactly what she wanted, who dated over a dozen guys before she was 16. I guess I was envious, subconsciously perhaps. After my family was disgraced you had something no amount of money could buy, reputation. Social capital.” She gave a hollow laugh. “Listen to me. I still sometimes sound like my parents. Treating having a lot of friends like it’s a transaction. Maybe in another life we could have been friends. Properly, I mean, not friend-of-a-friend casual acquaintances. If only we hadn’t been so tangled up in our separate lives.” The flower slipped through her fingers and rested beside the gravestone. “Goodbye, Wendy.”

She turned away, back to her family and didn’t look back. As she approached, Mason handed the baby over to Merrise, who took this as her cue to smile and skip away. Mason embraced Pacifica in a hug. “You could have told me all along.”

“I know.” Pacifica snuggled against her husband’s chest. “I was caught up in my own head.”

“Never like to cede a fight, eh?” He slyly grinned at her, then cupped her cheek. “Please don’t feel like you need to hold it all in like this again.”

Pacifica solemnly nodded. “We can have loads of fun talking about it together later. Maybe with a therapist in the room too. First, we’ve got an appointment, with the living this time.”

The blade of the axe swung down and split the chunk of wood into two even pieces. Mason wiped sweat off his brow. “Is this really necessary?”

“Oh yes,” Pacifica said from where she was reclining on the Corduroys’ porch. She had her journal open on the table, writing up her recent adventure, while Leah slept in a nearby rocking chair. “You’re making the view nicer. All those rippling muscles of yours.”

Mason blushed and placed another wooden log on the tree stump. He raised the axe again and brought it neatly down.

Next to him, his sister was still struggling on her first log, swinging the axe wildly and only making an incision about halfway in. “So why am I here too?” Zera handed another log over from the pile, staying clear of her wife’s wide swings.

“Payback for letting me wander all over the valley unsupervised, high as a kite,” Pacifica said with a smirk. “You’re not wimping out, are you? C’mon, let’s see some of that famous May Pines grit and determination.”

“Abso-tively poso-lutely!” Mabel gritted her teeth and made another useless chop, while Mason was already on his third log.

Laughing, Merrise ran through the clearing with the two Corduroy boys in pursuit. “Not so fast,” Pacifica called out, “You don’t want to trip over.” Merrise saluted and started jogging off again before the boys could tag her. Kids, Pacifica thought, smiling.

Manly Dan came from inside the cabin carrying a tray of drinks. “Another lemonade, Mrs Pines?”

“Don’t mind if I do. Thank you, Dan.” She sipped through a straw, while Manly Dan sat contentedly beside her on the porch. He kicked back and drank a lemonade of his own, enjoying watching someone else do his job for once.

Pacifica put the finishing touches on her journal entry, having sketched a likeness of the Unshriven from memory. Closing the cover, she sat back in her chair. Shutting her eyes, she felt the warm sun on her skin. In the afternoon sky a single star shone amidst the blue. Pacifica looked from it down to her sleeping daughter. “Thank you,” she whispered to the air. “For showing me that I have a future.”

#Gravity Falls #gravity falls fanfic #pacifica northwest #preston northwest #dipper pines #mabel pines #manly dan #wendy corduroy

10 notes · View notes

darkspine10 · 28 days

Text

my new poster for the 30th Anniversary of Myst, available over at the Cyan store (link in the source and the comments)! This imagery has been indelibly inscribed on the inside of my eyelids since I was a kid, so it was an absolute joy bringing it to life in a more official capacity. 📚

#myst

5K notes · View notes

darkspine10 · 1 month

Text

Some doodles of Mabel and Dipper on their ghost hunting adventures

#gravity falls #dipper pines #mabel pines

1K notes · View notes

darkspine10 · 1 month

Text

GF Fanfic - The Deepest Roots

Tangled Roots (33,970 words) by darkspine10

Chapters: 6/7

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Rating: Mature

The sensation of real pain felt almost flat and dull. Yet when Pacifica jolted awake her sore muscles complained and resisted her stretches. The dry earth beneath her was rough against the skin, but that told her that the dirt was tangible. She ran her hands down her body, finding it intact. Her mind less so, but it would have to do for now.

Sitting upright, she could make out the curved walls of a tunnel, roughly hewn through the ground in an oval shape. Placing a palm on the surface she found bare soil. This was a natural cave. She had no idea where she was, nor any recollection of how she’d got here.

The last solid memory she had was of sitting cross-legged in Mabel’s occult annex, before it all became a blur of negative associations and uncomfortably vivid apparitions. Surely she should be sprawled out on Mabel’s floor, spaced out of her mind.

She was startled when a drip of water caught her on the top of her head. That was real enough. The soreness had faded to be replaced by an equally stark absence of heat. She greatly regretted her lack of sleeves, though she’d hardly been expecting to end up underground. Wendy’s hat once again proved its worth, insulating some of the cold. Maybe it really was a lucky charm, she sardonically thought. By some fluke the bandage on her arm remained firmly attached. It had kept her injuries safe from further harm during her bad trip.

Some of her LSD-induced visions, those of travelling across the valley, must have been real enough for her to end up outside and alone. Mabel was meant to have been looking out for her, keeping any unruly symptoms controlled. So much for that. Pacifica groped for her pocket and took out her phone. Switching it on, the screen provided only a weak luminance, enough to show that the cave stretched on in both directions before terminating in inky blackness.

Despite the barrage of lurid imagery she’d endured in rapid succession, evidently the actual time elapsed was longer than she’d assumed. The time listed on her phone showed 3:26am - it had taken her over an hour to make it to wherever she was. She had a stream of missed texts, 17 in total. She scrolled back to the oldest unread message.

“Paz, don’t be alarmed,” Mabel had written in a way that couldn’t help but make her more alarmed. “You kinda burst out of the study so fast I couldn’t stop you!” Pacifica rolled her eyes. It hadn’t taken much to elude her vigilant guardian. “Really sorry! I couldn’t catch you after you ran outside, trust me. You acted like you knew what you were doing though! There was this look in your eyes, you know, a look.” Pacifica didn’t know. “Anyway, good luck with the monkey ;-)” Mabel had probably chosen to call it that to rile her up. Scowling, she was about to fire off a cutting rejoinder when she noticed her phone had absolutely no signal. Not even half a bar could penetrate the soil and rock piled above.

“This is what I get for trusting one of Mabel’s concoctions,” she grumbled.

Faced with no other options, she started walking down the tunnel, choosing a direction at random. For all she knew her path led deeper into the bowels of the Earth. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. If her hallucinations had in fact attuned to the Unshriven then perhaps she was in the right place to find it. Better to accept her predicament than wallow in despair.

She didn’t feel much different as a person after the voyage into her subconscious. Aware of a headache akin to a hangover perhaps, but otherwise unchanged. She still harboured a deep resentment towards her innocent daughter, plus there was her unresolved relationship with Wendy Corduroy, not to mention being plagued with body issues. Those could all wait. Important as it was to try and find meaning imparted by the drug’s imagery, survival was all that mattered until she got out of this freezing hole in the ground. She may have shed some pretensions from childhood, but shivering in a dark pit wasn’t something she could tolerate. Missing her soft bed and silk sheets, she got to her feet and set off in a random direction down the passage.

Walking for a few minutes she assumed she was making good progress through the tunnel, though it was impossible to judge for sure. Though she wasn’t thrilled by this damp, slimy tunnel, every step forward felt important, moving her towards freedom. Then she tripped. She came down on her knees, swearing and sore. Her jeans weren’t ripped but the friction burn would linger. She turned back to see what had caught her off guard. It was the handle of a metal axe.

Pacifica’s eyes widened and she reached the weapon. The design of the handle was unmistakable, fashioned from a sturdy branch and varnished until it shone. The fearsome blade also glinted in the dull light, sharp enough to cut through the darkness. She pressed a finger to the blade, recoiling when she drew a tiny inch of blood. She’d already lost enough of that for today, thank you very much.

This was a Corduroy axe, she was sure. What on Earth was it doing down here? Was Manly Dan prowling about somewhere, in an elaborate game of hide and seek? She was certain she’d seen, or sensed him in her hallucinations. In any case it was wise to arm herself. She lifted the handle and tested the axe’s weight in her grip. It was heavy and would slow her down, there was no getting over that. Yet it could be advantageous. She swung the axe, letting its weight naturally carry it in a wide arc. Yes, this would do for protection in a pinch. It wasn’t the first time she’d wielded an axe. There had been one of Mabel’s endless sentimental keepsakes, a supposed reminder of one of the twins’ earliest adventures. Pacifica had never quite believed the story behind it, of wax figures coming to life, but could admit she’d seen stranger things since then.

Stranger things like the sight that she came upon ten minutes later as her wanderings took her ever onwards. The path through the tunnel had branched out, widening into a cavernous open space. The ground beneath her sloped downwards into a bowl. As far as the light from her phone screen would penetrate it showed a cavern roof 30ft over her head. Freedom was not yet in sight.

Instead she came upon something that told her she was definitely in the lair of the Unshriven. She’d almost walked straight past it, camouflaged in earthy browns along the cavern wall. A hollow, about as tall as she was, in the cave wall. It was overgrown with twisted branches. Using the axe like a crowbar to lever the flimsy blockage out of the way, she recoiled, discovering that the hollow was occupied.

A woman of indeterminate age was wedged into the bedrock, staring out with unflinching eyes. Pacifica found it a disconcerting reminder of how Leah had appeared in her hallucination, flayed and judgmental. But the eyes were the least worrying facet of the imprisoned stranger. Her skin was melding with the bark of the ensnaring roots. These roots grew in an endless sprawl from the cavern base to its apex.

Pacifica had seen people turned into wood before. A twinge of guilt passed briefly over her as she acknowledged that the event on the night of the Northwest part had been her fault. Back then the transformation was terrifyingly static. A brief crying-out before cessation of all life. It had at least been swift. There was a cleanness to the transition, alive one moment, posed for eternity the next. She could have mounted the wooden statue Mason alongside the equally lifeless animal heads lining her parents’ walls and he wouldn’t have looked out of place.

What she was witnessing in front of her right now was entirely different. This was a process, one that was only partially completed. The skin wasn’t a clean wooden varnish, it was a mottled cedar that coated the skin in patches. She could still detect the tiniest muscle movements beneath the surface, though where human body ended and wood began was hard to identify. The hair and clothes remained untouched, as did those staring, vacant irises. Vines crept around the body like a vice, keeping it cocooned against the cave wall.

If there was life left in the poor woman it was only the weakest flicker. It was the life of a plant, creeping towards a strip of sunlight for the barest sustenance.

Shining her light back into the cave, Pacifica realised she was high on the periphery of this open chamber. She slid down the slope into the centre of the space and found that the woman wasn’t alone. She was surrounded by other trapped people. Over a dozen hollows contained men and women, some of whom Pacifica recognised. She’d passed some of them casually in the street, or delivering mail, or at the town pool. In a town as small as Gravity Falls it would be impossible not to become familiar with the majority of the population.

There were other lifeforms too. Shin-high hollows held captured gnomes, their red pointy hats the only splash of colour against ceaseless woody browns. One oversized hollow contained an insectoid creature with a bulbous orb-like head that Pacifica didn’t recognise. The eight spindly legs and a pair of immobile pincers it possessed showed how powerful the Unshriven must be, if he could entrap even this menacing beast. These poor individuals could have been sequestered down here in the dirt for days, or perhaps even weeks.

At the centre of the vast round hall was a tree which supported the entire cavern. It wasn’t like the one in Corduroy’s cabin. This tree was ancient, its bark drained of all colour except ashy black. Gnarled branches snaked across the vaulted roof, while the roots were sunk into the ground on account of the immense weight. Vestigial brown leaves hung in small clumps, decaying or dead.

Amidst the meandering eaves at the top of the cave Pacifica saw in places stone rectangles, embedded. The branches curled around these intrusions. At first she was confused, unable to understand what purpose these structures could serve. Then she noticed one where the soil within the rectangle was fresher, water dripping down off the surface. Mulched bones jutted down into the open space, threatening to hurtle down and shatter. Pacifica swallowed to resist bile at the back of her throat.

Of course. They were beneath the Gravity Falls cemetery. This entire cavern sat innocuously under every coffin and headstone, slowly providing a constant supply of new meat to feed the Unshriven. Of the hideous creature itself there was no sign, for which Pacifica was grateful. This was utterly obscene. If there was any greater intelligence behind the ape’s intentions then it was a cruel and malicious mind.

From down a different passage than the one she’d travelled along Pacifica heard raised voices. She ducked down beneath one of the support tree’s roots. Her hand wrapped around the axe. She wasn’t ready to wield it yet, still unsteady from the lingering high. On hearing the voice more clearly however she stood up, knowing there was nothing to fear.

“Come out! I’ll finish you off once and for all.”

Manly Dan squeezed in through a narrow opening. In his hand was an axe even larger than the one Pacifica was carrying. He held a lantern aloft, revealing his bared teeth, and he bore a look that could have petrified any prepubescent young boy insecure in his masculinity. Pacifica smirked to herself and called out to the burly lumberjack. “Over here. Are you looking for Little Red Riding Hood?” He softened his glare and made his way across the cavern. There was a look of shock on seeing the trapped and mutated prisoners, but he quickly covered up any sign of fear.

“Pines. I thought you’d lost your nerve for the hunt. I shouldn’t have underestimated you, you’re-”

“Stubborn, that’s what I am.” Pacifica smiled. She never thought she’d be so happy to breathe in the musk of sweat and woodsmoke that permeated his clothes. Though, she’d have been happy to see any friendly face in the wake of the night’s events. “Have you seen the Unshriven?”

The lumberjack crouched beside her so they were face to face. In a low voice he said, “No, and I didn’t expect to.” He jabbed a thumb at the feathered amulet, and Pacifica remembered that no-one else would be able to properly perceive the ape. She alone possessed that delightful privilege.

“You’re right,” she said. “It’s starting to make sense, perception is key. A friend of mine suggested there might be some trace elements of a psychoactive substance in the bone. I’m guessing that somehow the proximity to sweat or adrenaline brings out the chemical, allowing one’s mind to properly perceive the Unshriven. Or at least that’s my best working hypothesis.”

Manly Dan nodded, though Pacifica detected a slight glaze over his eyes. She didn’t expect him to take a scientific approach to things. “That may be so, but how on earth did you find the beast’s lair? My family has wrestled with this monstrosity for centuries and you track it back in one night?”

“I guess your family or the natives never found the right mood enhancements. A gaggle of buddhist monks high on pot might have had better luck.” Corduroy seemed baffled by her statement. “The real question is, how did you find this place? It wasn’t exactly easy to get here myself.”

Manly Dan’s eyes were cast downwards. “The beast… claimed one of my boys.”

Pacifica’s mouth flapped open. The Unshriven wasn’t only grabbing people at random. It had a vendetta of its own against the Corduroys. Her palms clenched around the handle of the Corduroy axe. It seemed an appropriate weapon in light of the circumstances. Now there were lives at stake she couldn’t back down.

Corduroy marched over to one of the hollows. Between the wooden bars of the cell Pacifica could make out red hair and a green shirt with a flannel print. That was one of the Corduroys alright, though she stamped down the urge to ask Manly Dan ‘which one?’.

“I followed its tracks but the trail went cold,” he continued, pressing a hand against his son’s cheek. The boy’s transformation hadn’t spread far, with only faint whorls of bark on his cheek giving away his inevitable fate. “Then I saw boot prints leading into this cave. Your footprints, I take it. I doubt I could have entered this space if you hadn’t already shown the way. My mind had never registered the existence of the cave mouth. Like you said I suppose, perception is key.” He stomped around, fists balled like he wanted to hit something. “I should have expected retribution. By bringing an outsider into the fray I’ve upset the balance. The Unshriven has been known to kidnap people without warning, spiriting them away in the dead of night for nefarious purposes.”

Pacifica shoved the lumberjack in the shoulder. “And you didn’t think to tell me this before?! That might have been useful context to know before you sent me out to find the scariest fucking thing in the world!”

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

Pacifica pinched her eyelids and put aside her pride. “You can make it up to me later. Though god knows how. A free axe-throwing lesson? Teach me how to stir-fry a raccoon? Whatever. Right now we have to help your son and the rest of these people. And non-people. You know, Mason and I have got to come to a decision on that, it’s surprisingly hard to settle on terminology. Do we call them cryptids, mystical beings, or just a weird class of people?”

Corduroy shook his head, ignoring her rambling and shining his lantern at the hollows. “I don’t understand it. No-one’s gone missing for years.”

“That might be exactly how long some of these people have been down here. The ape’s sustained itself for over 200 years and I think I know how.” She pointed at the defiled stone rectangles in the roof. “We’re down under the cemetery. In Gravity Falls the graves eat people.”

“My god.” Corduroy angrily thrust his axe into the space between the roots that guarded his son, trying to wedge the boy loose. “This ends tonight.”

“Easier said than done.” Pacifica glanced around, aware that there’d been no sight nor sound of the Unshriven for the entire time they’d been down here. After the pursuit in the forest she couldn’t believe it would leave its food supply so undefended. It could be back at any moment. “You’d better watch out. This thing can hurl branches at a hundred miles an hour.”

Corduroy scoffed. “Of course, why wouldn’t it? Damn widowmaker.”

“Come again?”

“Lumberjack jargon. It refers to loose branches that fall and hit people. Fools who don’t watch their heads around snags are likely to meet an untimely fate. It sounds as if the Unshriven wants to make fools of us all.”

“You might be more right than you think.” Pacifica noticed movement above Manly Dan. One of the branches clinging to the ceiling had surreptitiously snapped in such a way that it dangled over the lumberjack’s head. From that height it would crack his skull.

Pacifica put all her weight into shoving the burly man out of the way. His mass made it a struggle, but she succeeded in clearing the area before the loose branch thudded into the spot he’d been standing. Corduroy got up off his hands and knees, but let out a gasp. Pacifica followed his eyeline towards the central trunk.

The Unshriven was there, sitting in the upper boughs in a reclined position. It couldn’t care less about the intruders. Pacifica went rigid, culled into submission by the ape’s horrifying appearance. Its breaths came out as sonorous stabs, like a foghorn in the mist.

Before their eyes the creature flitted about along the branches. One minute it was prowling towards them on all fours, the next it hung from a limb of the tree, chattering and baring its tusks. Ever closer it came, fading from sight only to reappear in a new position.

“Get ready.” Pacifica took a defensive stance and held the axe close to her chest.

“I can see it,” Corduroy said in a reverent breathless whisper. His eyes matched wherever the creature manifested. He didn’t need the amulet anymore. Not here, Pacifica sensed, not on the ape’s home turf. “After all these years… let’s have it then!” Manly Dan charged forwards, lifting his massive axe as if it weighed nothing. He let out a war cry and the Unshriven roared in return. It had a glint of malice in its vacant eye sockets, Pacifica could detect that much.

She wanted to call out, to tell Corduroy to hold back. It was too late. The Unshriven leapt from its perch at the lumberjack. Manly Dan hefted his axe and swung it in time to catch the beast mid-jump. The silver blade passed harmlessly through empty air. Unbalanced, Corduroy fell forwards. The Unshriven had been a coiled spring and now all that feral energy was unleashed. It cannoned into Corduroy’s chest, reversing the momentum and sending him sprawling on his back. The giant axe whirled through the air. Pacifica felt the force of impact as it came to rest embedded in the cave wall inches from where she stood.

In panic Manly Dan raised his fists over his chest to fight off the ape. It wasn’t there. It had already rematerialised out of reach in the high branches. A satisfied cackle echoed from its chest. There was evil in that sound, not the vocalisations of a mindless brute, but a calculated response to derive pleasure from their suffering.

Pacifica wasn’t going to stand for it. “I’m so done with you!” She lifted her axe and ran to cover Corduroy. If the beast wanted another sacrifice it would have to go through her first. “This is our town! You’re not welcome here!”

The ape took the bait gladly, breaking a piece of wood off with a snap like bones cracking. In a single whirling motion it extended its rubber-hose arms and cast down the sharpened missile. Pacifica ducked, getting out of the way just in time. The twig caught her fur hat and sent it flying. Without a moment to catch a breath she had to dodge out of the way of a second projectile. Her reflexes were slow. The projectile caught her in the side, knocking her down. She groaned in agony. Though she’d just barely avoided taking the shot head on, the glancing blow still hurt like hell. She lightly brushed under her tree t-shirt and flinched in pain. There’d be an almighty bruise on her hip if nothing else.

The Unshriven manifested on the ground, knuckle-walking towards her without apparent haste. Fighting through the pain, she picked up the axe and swung it widely at her enemy. It passed through, dissolving the ape before it reformed, no worse for the wear. It hadn’t even reacted to the swing. Pacifica feebly clutched the amulet, willing her mind to snap back into a heightened state. Whatever trace of the LSD was left in her system wasn’t enough to generate more than a light buzz. Wasn’t this stuff meant to stick around in her system for a few hours at least? Mabel hadn’t been kidding about the lowness of the dosage. Pacifica stumbled backwards and sprawled in the dirt, dropping the axe.

This was hopeless. They couldn’t hurt the beast. She’d been awake for hours, putting her body through stress she hadn’t dreamed of the day before. She was worn out, ready to expire and become another harvested body. Hot, stinking clouds of breath snorted from the creature’s nostrils as it bared its mighty fangs in preparation to penetrate her skull like ripe fruit.

Pacifica thought of her family, Mason, Merrise, and Leah, the latter so helpless without her protection and nourishment. Struck by the horrible acknowledgement that she might never see any of them again, she flashed back to the last time she’d been close to death.

A snare is coiled around my ankle, dragging me towards a waiting enemy. Wendy tosses me her sword, a jagged piece of cold metal. Momentum carried me towards a killing blow. Without that timely throw my life would have ended.

…Momentum.

That was the key. With a burst of energy Pacifica leapt to her feet, grabbing the axe handle and springing up at the Unshriven. It was surprised to see her charging so willingly into the jaws of death, but Pacifica didn’t stop for an instant, building up speed. Wincing through the pain in her hip, she cannonballed into the Unshriven… and passed straight through it without slowing. The Unshriven’s intangible nature became a liability as it clutched at air while Pacifica was already out the other side. If it couldn’t fully manifest in the mundane world then it was little wonder that its primary form of attack was using blunt instruments as missiles. However, there was nowhere she could run to in the cave that she would be safe. The ape cackled evilly at her futile attempt.

Pacifica wasn’t listening, continuing to sprint away from the beast. She hefted the axe in a backhand swing and put all her energy into a follow-through strike. The axe struck the trunk of the central supporting tree sideways on. A fearsome boom like thunder ricocheted around the cavern. Jagged cracks splintered their way diagonally up the trunk.

The Unshriven howled with anguish, loud enough that Corduroy had to plant his gloved hands over his head. Pacifica ignored it, climbing up the branches and taking another swing at the bark. This impact had less weight behind it, barely splitting the wood, so she jumped back down and held the axe out in front of her. “Come on!” she yelled at the Unshriven.

Pacifica had figured it out. The Unshriven didn’t want to eat people, not directly, not when it was sustaining this menagerie of captives. The roots were digging deep, turning them to wood to nourish the central trunk. Killing her with its tusks or claws was simply a defensive measure to protect the larder. If the trunk and the Unshriven were symbiotically linked, then maybe affecting one could affect the other. “It’s not just the ape,” she yelled to Manly Dan, “it’s this whole ecosystem!”

As if to prove her point, the Unshriven flitted onto one of the branches and hissed down at her. It faded away like mist, dissipating into the tree. The entire cavern rumbled. Manly Dan had to roll out of the way as the gargantuan roots slithered up out of the soil and pounded against the surface. The upper branches flexed and writhed. Pacifica had seen this coming and crouched as close to the trunk as she could. The wooden tendrils struck out with the force of a whip, rending out deep gashes of dirt and mud. The bark on the trunk creaked and reformed, creating a furrowed brow and turning the incision Pacifica had made into a distorted frown. Within the crack Pacifica could see a broiling mass of energy the colour of rust, aching to unleash itself.

The stories of Devil’s Lake had sounded grander than one chattering ape. Now Pacifica was seeing the true form of the monster, its limbs more like the grasping tentacles of an octopus than any plant. The light in the chamber became dappled, reflecting the abode of a true dweller of the depths.

One of its branches swung out to knock her down. Pacifica stood her ground and raised the axe, severing the attacking extremity and sending it lifelessly to the ground. The ape figure appeared again, enraged and claws raised to strike. Pacifica mirrored its pose with an aggressive grunt and lofted her axe. The beast faded away at the last second. It was only willing to strike her if it wouldn’t risk being hurt likewise. As long as Pacifica wasn’t cowed and kept up her guard there was no way the beast would attack. Buoyed up by the sense that she was indestructible, she chopped at the trunk again. It was like iron, unyielding. She needed more momentum, more weight behind the swing.

Instead she was set upon by the tendrils. A swarm of them wrapped around her in a split second, constricting her arms. Her feet left the ground as she was hoisted up. One branch the thickness of an elephant’s trunk circled her throat. Still she fought back, flailing her axe.

The tendril wrapped around her throat began to squeeze. At the same time a voice tickled at the back of her mind. It was deep and compulsive. “Give up the struggle,” She looked around dreamily, the voice drowning out her thoughts. It would be so easy just to let go. The voice sounded so compelling. A chill struck her right down to the bone. “You’d make such a delicious feast. All that misplaced resentment, all the heartache, back and forth. You don’t even want that pretty body. Let me take a hold.” The tendrils tightened, tugging on Pacifica’s hair almost hard enough to rend it from her scalp.

Pacifica gritted her teeth and whimpered, her voice barely above a croak. “Shut up! This body may not be perfect, but it’s mine!” She struck out with the axe, hitting the lower end of the branch around her neck and loosening the grip. The voice faded away, replaced with a howling moan coming from within the trunk. “Hands off!”

At the edge of her vision, Pacifica saw Corduroy was on his feet. He seemed to have picked up on the message about the tree and the Unshriven. He’d plucked his massive axe out of the wall, but couldn’t get close through the shifting tentacles that threatened to coil around him. In response he lifted the axe above his head with both hands and hurled it through the air. It struck the core of the tree, sending splinters all up the length of the bark.

Immediately the tendrils slid away, dropping Pacifica. She landed in a crouch and, coughing, hoisted the axe for another strike. She wouldn’t let this window of opportunity that Corduroy had opened go to waste.

The ape re-manifested near Pacifica, but it was wobbly on its feet, delirious from damage. Pacifica made several drunken swings at the beast, but it kept darting away at the last second, as unpredictable as sizzling oil spitting from a frying pan. The Unshriven backed away from her attack. Its morphs between solid and gaseous showed signs of fatigue, covering less distance and taking longer to transition between states. Finally Pacifica backed the ape up against the trunk of its oh-so-important tree. With all her might she took one last swing, impacting the ape as it tried to merge with the tree and inflicting a fatal blow on both. She pulled the axe out and stuck again, immensely satisfied. “Oh that feels good! Eat it!”

The structural weakness in the combined entity gave way and the cracks along the trunk split asunder. Pacifica’s victorious mood faltered when a torrent of blood gushed from the wound. She didn’t even have time to close her mouth before the onslaught of thick fluid washed over her. Choking, she coughed up as much as she could before taking yet another swing at the trunk, and another. She wouldn’t stop until she was sure this thing was dead for good, even as blood poured over her like a waterfall. Shafts of orange spit forth from the cracks in the wood.

The ape’s skull burst forth from the tree in a last gasping cry, its limbs grasping. One hand succeeded in grabbing the amulet, suffocating Pacifica. She easily knocked him away with the butt of her axe. It was the gesture of someone drowning coming up for one last gulp of air but unable to fight the current. When she’d seen the Unshriven die in her dream it had been raw, meaty. Despite the blood, the Unshriven’s real death was far from corporeal. The branches of the tree broke away from the ceiling, withering and ageing to dust in seconds. Blue strands of energy were leached from the Unshriven back to the tree, tearing chunks of fur. In their place remained spectral outlines of tendon and muscle. The skull flaked away, sucked into the vortex at the heart of the destruction, exposing brain tissue.

As the layers peeled away, Pacifica finally saw a pair of eyes emerge from beneath the empty sockets. Two leering eyes, dangling from stalks on a pulsing brain. A coiled nervous system hung below the floating organ. Devoid of gums, a jaw frozen in an unending scream completed the anatomical nightmare. The thing’s expression wasn’t one of fear of dying, but furious hatred, raging at her for defeating it. It put Pacifica in mind of a particularly bloody spaghetti dish. The metaphor became more apt as the Unshriven’s remains were slurped down into the vortex at the heart of the trunk.

All the life inside the tree vanished. Pacifica was briefly afraid the cavern roof would collapse, but the dead stump was enough to hold it up. Leaves drifted down from above like snowflakes, not dead and brown but a warm golden orange. The last trickles of blood pooled around Pacifica’s feet. As a last insult to her enemy, Pacifica grunted with effort and embedded her axe in the trunk. She left it there as a permanent reminder of her victory.

The last of the leaves settled around the roots. Glancing cautiously around the chamber, Manly Dan said, “You… you defeated the Unshriven.”

Pacifica wiped a hand over her face, trying to remove some of the accumulated blood and only succeeding in smearing more of it onto her palm. “I guess it was his time… of the month.”

“What?”

She waved it off. “Bad joke, forget about it.”

Manly Dan’s eyebrow perked up. “The necklace.”

Pacifica’s hand went to her throat. Her neck chafed but that pain would fade. Hanging limply from the torn cord, the shards of Osprey bone and sapphire had been shattered in the Unshriven’s last grasp for freedom. Pacifica slid the amulet over her hair and let the feathers and bone fragments trickle through her fingers. “It’s ok, it served its purpose. I don’t know how it did it, but if it wasn’t for this special charm we would have all been mulched. Besides, I’ve already got one enchanted pendant at home. Two would be excessive of me. I’m trying to give up excess.”

A moaning voice came from the edge of the chamber. Manly Dan’s head snapped to one side and he rushed to his son’s side. “Gus!” There was one small mystery solved.

The bars of Gus’ cell were disintegrating away, coming away soft and flaky in Manly Dan’s hands. The visible effects of the transformation into wooden statue diminished quickly once the young Corduroy was pulled free of the vines. All around the rest of the cavern Pacifica saw the previously incapacitated prisoners begin to stir and wriggle free of the hollows.

“Dad!” The boy was freed from the trap and hugged his father. Manly Dan was holding him tight, tears streaming from his eyes as he laughed. Pacifica found it heartwarming, and shed a tear of her own. She wanted to wipe it away, but her hands were still too bloody.

“NORTHWEST!”

Pacifica instantly froze. She recognised that voice. it boomed throughout the cavern. It had visited her in many dreams over the years, initially unsettling but ultimately leaving her with a feeling of contentment. The amber light that had flared so brightly within the core of the tree shone out again, before dying for good. Instead, the stone markings on the ceiling of the cavern which marked the desecrated graves began to glow an icy blue. Shafts of light shone down, illuminating patches on the floor and casting shadowy figures onto the walls.

The two Corduroys stood, unsure how to react. Manly Dan held a protective arm around his son. Pacifica hesitantly walked towards the shadow of the figure she recognised. Archibald Corduroy. Despite only being a silhouette, she could make out his flaming beard and imposing body. Even like this she could tell he was smiling and nodding towards her. There were other shadows, presumably more Corduroys from decades gone by.

Dan and Gus gravitated towards one in particular, that of a woman, half turned away. Some innate sense told Pacifica that this was the late Mrs Corduroy. She had never even thought to inquire after the fate of Wendy and the boys’ mother. She’d been absent from their lives as long as Pacifica could recall. From the heartache and joy on her family’s faces she was clearly much missed. “Thank you,” Manly Dan mouthed at Pacifica.

Pacifica wanted to smile at the sheer impossible wonder of the moment. Yet she couldn’t feel the same connection, not while a more glaring absence gnawed at her. She was about to speak when she saw more shadows cast on the opposite half of the cavern to the Corduroys. They were hidden in a patch of darkness away from the lantern, but Pacifica set her mouth in a straight line anyway. This was her own legacy. The Northwest in her.

Nathaniel Northwest and her grandpa Auldman stood haughtily, arms folded and disdainful expressions almost detectable through the faded shadows. She didn’t recognise many of the other figures, but then she’d never been a student of family history, especially after cutting ties with her legacy. She scoffed at the shadows’ dismissal. These men weren’t paragons of virtue. Why should she value their judgement one iota? She wasn’t about to let their disapproving aura ruin the mood.

Turning her back on the shadows, she lightly touched Manly Dan ob the arm, offering a sympathetic smile. He and his son gladly waved as the echoes of the Corduroy ancestors were lost in the flickering lamp light. The graves above became silent memorials once more.

“Why wasn’t she here?” Pacifica asked quietly, once she was sure there would be anymore supernatural surprises. “Wendy.”

Gus Corduroy looked down in sadness at the mention of his sister, though Manly Dan only nodded sagely “I understand. We’re beneath the cemetery. Every Corduroy - and Northwest,” he hastily added, “was laid to rest somewhere in the earth nearby. My dear Wendy was never buried, remember. Today’s funeral was only an empty gesture.”

Pacifica’s eyes drifted up across the ceiling, as if she was seeing beyond. “No, nothing quite so hollow. As Mabel would probably say it was a… ritual event. Wendy’s body might not be on Earth - hell, there likely aren’t even any traces of her real body left. What does that matter though, if the people who celebrate her memory are all here?”

“So,” Manly Dan said with a growing pride, “you did it. You succeeded in your quest. You saved the valley.”

“I didn’t save the valley,” Pacifica said flatly, and Manly Dan frowned. “I rescued a handful of people, that’s all.” A small smile crept into her lips. “On the other hand, I did put a multi-generational feud to rest. I purified this corner of the woods forever more. And there's one less demon haunting the valley. I think that counts as a big enough win for one day.”

Manly Dan whooped and hollered, and twirled his axe high above his head.

“Come on.” Pacifica was beaming now. All around them the prisoners were stumbling out of the hollows and blinking. “These people are probably disoriented. You can show us the way back to the surface. We’d better tell Sheriff Durland, there are bound to be families and friends who need to be informed.”

“Do you need any help?” Manly Dan pointed to the scratches on her forearm. The patch covering them had been dislodged in the fight and was now flapping uselessly. The wounds had reopened, and rivulets of blood dripped from the gash, indistinguishable from the stuff coating the rest of her skin. With a gentler touch than she could have imagined Dan flattened the patch against her arm until it stayed stuck on. “Better?”

“Better.” Pacifica grinned, happy to have teased out some of the old lumberjack’s paternal side. “Wait, one more thing.” She scanned the torn up ground until she spied her fur hat. A large tear ran along one of the flaps. She ran a finger along the material, feeling like she’d failed in some profound way.

“It just needs stitches,” Dan said simply and practically.

“Yeah,” Pacifica said, shaken free of her brief melancholy. No doubt Mabel could fix it up in no time. Wendy’s hat might not be exactly the same afterwards, but she’d decided that was alright. Even if she would heal from her scars, the hat would carry a reminder of tonight’s events. “Ok people,” she shouted at the dazed crowd of humans and cryptid people. “Danger’s over!”

Between herself and the Corduroys they made sure every last prisoner was exhumed from the earth and led the confused people out through one of the tunnels towards the open sky. As they started to get close to the surface, Manly Dan turned his head, noticing something painted on the cave wall. Letting the crowd flow past, he and Pacifica stopped to examine the wall.

Within a circle of ten symbols was a crude painting of a triangle in a top hat. Manly Dan shuddered. “It’s Him.”

Pacifica ran a finger along the dry paint with an expression close to fondness. She found herself oddly unfazed by the painting’s connotations. “Probably an old native warning sign. Beware: do not pass this point, monsters within.” She chuckled. “Come on big guy. There’s no point hanging around here. I’ve seen enough Zodiac wheels for one lifetime.”

Ahead of them Gus stood, lit by the rising sun at the mouth of the cave. Pacifica shielded her eyes and squinted. The view of the valley with the early morning rays took Pacifica’s breath away. Sometimes she took her home for granted, but in this pinkish-golden light the valley shone with an uncommon radiance. Most of the people they’d saved staggered out into the sunlight, cheering and celebrating. The cryptids, the ones who hadn’t vanished into dark recesses underground, took the opportunity to scamper away, giving only perfunctory thanks.

Corduroy patted Pacifica on the back. “Well if that doesn’t make it all worthwhile. Could do with a nice warm bath and some food though.”

Pacifica rubbed her stomach. “I know what you mean.” She gazed at the view and panned down, spotting that the town high street was only a short walk away. Sitting amidst the colonial wooden buildings was one more modern structure that stood out among its peers. Making a snap decision, she started off down the trail. “Come on. I know a place.”

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfic #pacifica northwest #manly dan

3 notes · View notes

darkspine10 · 1 month

Text

So..

Teen Goth Mabel..

I JUST.. AAAAAHHHGGG she's gorgeous on every style * giggles * A sketch I did of goth teen Mabel a while ago while re-watching Alex and Dana's Draw-A-Thon, it makes me SO happy every time I have a LOT of things I would like to draw about what is mentioned of all the characters there i luv it

#gravity falls #mabel pines #goth Mabel

155 notes · View notes

darkspine10 · 1 month

Text

GF Fanfic - Ego-Death

Tangled Roots (27,062 words) by darkspine10

Chapters: 5/7

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Rating: Mature

Note: The music which inspired this chapter was a sitar piece composed by Jim Sullivan for the Space 1999 episode, The Troubled Spirit (aired 1976). I found it quite memorable, and recommend checking it out to add to the mood.

“And through here… tada!”

Pacifica entered into a cramped room with octagonal wood-panelled walls. “Oh wow. A tiny cupboard.” It was cramped enough with the two of them, let alone if Zera had been present. She had bowed out for the night, probably impatient for Pacifica to leave so she and her wife could get back to their private evening.

After drying off from her second soak of the evening Pacifica had re-dressed, making sure that the old fur hat hadn’t suffered any permanent water damage. She continued to clutch Wendy’s hat in one hand, strangely unwilling to leave it lying around to get lost in Mabel’s home. Her jacket was still soaked through, despite its promised waterproof material. In any case the right sleeve was little more than ragged shreds. She’d been very grateful to get out of the bikini top, and since she didn’t care about appearances around Mabel, hadn’t bothered to put her bra back on.

The t-shirt above was now pleasantly dry. It was white with green around the neck and sleeves. Several varieties of trees were illustrated on the front, with their scientific nomenclature listed out beside them. It was the only good purchase from the souvenir shop of a tourist trap she’d visited with Mason as part of a circuit around all of the local attractions of Oregon beyond the Falls. The trip had been described by Mason semi-seriously as ‘checking out the competition’. He’d bought the shirt for her as a gift. ‘So he’d always be close to her heart’, he’d added with a wink. Amidst the old growth redwoods, oaks, and maples on the shirt was, obviously, Pinus Ponderosa.

For her part, Mabel hadn’t bothered to change out of her bikini, other than wrapping her towel around her shoulders as a makeshift cape. She shook her head, sending water droplets flying into Pacifica’s face. With her best attempt at a performer’s voice, Mabel wagged her finger and said, “Ah ah ah, surely by now, Paz, you realise that appearances can be deceiving. Voila!”

Tugging on on a velvet rope, Mabel caused a set of curtains arranged in a triptych to slide open. Pacifica stared aghast at a trio of tapestries depicting a familiar yellow triangle floating above scenes of unending deprivation and horror. “So you decided when decorating your new house that a critical feature, before painting the bathroom walls even, would be to erect a shrine to Bill Cipher? Have you gone completely round the bend?”

“It’s not a shrine worshipping Bill, dummy. These tapestries are just sick as hell.” Arranged on shelves beneath each of the three tapestries were an array of arcane objects. Mabel cradled a pyramidal prism in her hand but there were also scrolls and spell books, quill pens, and even a brass orrery. Mason would probably have concocted a study like this, if Pacifica had been willing to let him remodel their house, though she doubted he would have endorsed this subject matter. Mabel being the architect behind its design seemed to stretch credulity.

Pacifica knelt down to examine one of the tapestries, noticing a discolouration around the base. Some of the patterned fabric was obscured by black splotches. “Was this burned?”

Mabel guiltily returned the prism to its place in the tableau. “I kinda pulled it out of a fire. A lot of this stuff comes from Grunkle Ford’s old relic collection. Back from when he was being tricked by Bill into building the portal. After Weirdmageddon we made a big bonfire to get rid of all that nasty junk.”

“But you had your eyes on a fetching demon tapestry? Nothing you do is normal, is it?”

“That’s the way I like it.”

The other two tapestries featured illustrations that less obviously matched the dream demon, rendered in more abstract tones of red and black. One on the far right caught Pacifica’s eye. There was no top hat or arms attached to this grey triangle, and the serpent-like slitted eye was blood crimson. Beneath the ominous symbol were prostrated figures, cowering under the branches of a burnt tree and surrounded by piles of bones. “I swear I’ve seen some of these designs before.”

“That’s cause you probably have,” Mabel said, a light crimson colour rising in her cheeks. “I cribbed these two tapestries off of McGucket.”

Pacifica snapped her fingers. “Of course, they used to hang in the Northwest mansion. The southwest corridor to the drawing room if I’m not mistaken.”

“You have a good memory, probably.” Mabel shrugged. “All I know is your parents used to own them.”

Pacifica failed to stifle an involuntary shudder. The thought that her parents would willingly collaborate with such an evil presence briefly passed through her mind, before she dismissed it equally swiftly. “I wouldn’t put too much stock in it. You know what this town is like with triangles.” Over all the centuries of his involvement in mortal affairs Bill’s presence had seeped into the wider culture. Even as a kid she’d seen yellow triangles graffitied on bridges or etched into countertops. It was endemic. “I reckon this is old Modoc Indian weave-work. I’ve seen some similar patterns before. If my dad ever had anything to do with Cipher he renounced it all after what that monster did to him. I still get nightmares about that gruesome face.”

“Well that’s why we’re here. To get rid of all those pesky nightmares, anxieties, and postpartum depressive episodes!” Mabel put a hand on her friend’s shoulder, then leant in to whisper in her ear. “Between us sisters, he still freaks me out too. The worst nightmares are the ones he appears in, because-“

“You can’t tell if it's the real him or not!” Pacifica excitedly finished in shared sympathy.

Mabel looked left and right as if afraid of being eavesdropped. “Do you think the thing you’re hunting tonight is anything as bad as Mr Top Hat and Bowtie?”

Pacifica listed with her fingers. “Terrifying? Yes. Nightmare-inducing, you’d better believe it. Traumatising for life? Jury’s still out.”

“Well, it’ll be a real adventure finding out!” Pacifica couldn’t tell if Mabel was being genuinely optimistic or simply teasing. “Mind out the way.” Mabel crouched down and rolled up a woollen rug that covered almost all the floor. Pacifica only had a second to glimpse swirling calligraphy patterns. “Got this rug from Grand Bazaar in Istanbul one time I was visiting,” Mabel explained, shrugging. “What can I say, a gal likes her souvenirs.”

That much was true. Pacifica had seen the boxes Mabel filled with sentimental old junk lying around the house. Her previously transient lifestyle meant she’d made use of a lot of long term storage lockers, or otherwise hauling heaps of her stuff everywhere. At least now she had a permanent residence she’d have somewhere to leave it all while out campaigning.

Pacifica tapped a finger on the sharp point of one of the glass prisms, watching the miniature rainbow it cast. “So what’s all this in aid of? A private little side room for when you’re feeling particularly occultish on a Friday night?” She suppressed a small chuckle. “Were you on drugs when you made this?”

Mabel rolled her eyes. “Oh ha ha, go for the cheap jokes. I did something called ‘using my imagination’.”

The way her friend had snapped back at her made Pacifica wince. “Sorry, that was rude of me.”

Mabel made an easy smile and placed a palm on the menagerie of trees above Pacifica’s heart. “All is forgiven.”

Pacifica didn’t feel like she deserved to be let off the hook so easily. She’d have to work better on not being so insensitive. “I meant it Mabel. I apologise for being so crass with you and Zera tonight. I lashed out and you didn’t deserve that. I’ve just been so tensed up today. No, not just today. All month. This might be the kind of room you’d find in a serial killer cultist mansion, but there’s a consistent aesthetic to design. It has atmosphere.”

“Not bad for a college dropout,” Mabel said, winking up at her. “I am a master craftsman at anything I put my mind to.”

Pacifica smirked. “Like that ‘super secret craft project’ you’ve been working on but haven’t told anyone yet?”

Mabel whirled around in shock, her smugness immediately punctured. “Wait what, how’d you know about that?”

“All those furtive phone calls and texts over Christmas? It was hard to miss when we were all under your parents’ roof. Plus you were hardly being subtle. So what’s this one about? Art piece? Your own line of hot tubs?”

Mabel bent down beneath the triptych where sets of drawers were inset in the wall and mumbled to herself. “Great, another secret I failed to keep. You’ll find out when I’m good and ready this time, Paz.” Pacifica graciously accepted this crushing loss and watched Mabel as her outstretched finger hovered over the drawers “Let’s see, left side we got smokables, right side is the painkillers, centre bottom is… aha! The acid drawer!”

“So when I mentioned drugs I wasn’t far off?” Pacifica offered.

Mabel, oblivious, scrambled around on all fours, using a stick of chalk to draw five straight lines directly onto the wooden floorboards. The lines formed a pentagon about 25 inches across. Mabel pointed at the blank space within the lines. “Now, sit.”

“Do I have to?”

“It’s part of the ritual. You don’t just take a hit of the drug, you’ve gotta get your brain in the right state. That’s what the whole room is for, the eight sides reflect and refract mental energy. I can get you a cushion if it’s easier?”

“No, I’ll accept your cruel and unusual method of helping me.” Pacifica sat cross-legged in the pentagon, internally reflecting on Mabel’s particular spiritual leanings. When it came to religions Mabel treated them like a buffet, picking and choosing traditions and beliefs from all over the place. She thought back to Mason’s earlier words about gullibility, wondering if he’d been too harsh. When the world they lived in already contained such multitudes, what was the harm in embracing a little madness?

Mabel hurried about to pore over one of the shelves, making a great clattering when she tripped over some keepsake or another. Pacifica grinned to herself. She studied her friend’s movements. Mabel had all the grace and elegance of a controlled demolition. Somehow she’d learnt how to counteract her innate clumsiness by predicting every stumble and fall milliseconds before the fact and shifting the balance so she stayed perfectly upright. She would dance about gently on tiptoes, seeming always one instant away from collapsing to the floor but never tipping over that critical threshold. It was quite an impressive achievement, though Pacifica would baulk at describing it as balletic.

Mabel rummaged around in one of the drawers, tossing items out of the way, before producing a plastic bag full of colourful sweets. “Have some gummy koalas. You’re gonna need the energy.”

Pacifica took a handful and swallowed them down gratefully. Today had taken a lot out of her. It wasn’t just the exertion; her mind was worn out and frenzied. She hoped the rest of the night would lend her clarity, if nothing else.

Awkwardly shoving mementoes aside to make room, Mabel slapped down a round CD player of a type Pacifica hadn’t seen in nearly 25 years. Clasping a disc in one hand, her friend clumsily dropped it into the player and pressed a button with a loud click. The sound of smooth saxophone and lounge piano quietly filled the chamber. Mabel snapped her fingers at Pacifica. “Close your eyes.” Pacifica begrudgingly did as instructed. “That’s it, good. Calm your breathing, open your mind, and appreciate the contours of the chamber. I’ll be your guide for your journey on the cosmic express!”

Pacifica cracked an eye open, unable to resist a minor snort of laughter. Her sliver of view showed Mabel retrieving a hefty leather bound tome, covered in strange symbols. She craned her neck, trying to get a better look. “Is that one of the journals?”

Mabel blew on the book, sending dust swirling around in the tight confines of the room and causing Pacifica to sneeze. “No peeking. This is the Bardo Thodol: The Tibetan Book of the Dead,” Mabel said matter-of-factly. “Found it in a flea market.” It was official: Mabel Pines was the world’s biggest hoarder. “It’s the 1975 translation.”

“Wow, I can’t believe I’m putting my life into the hands of someone who can’t even read Tibetan. Lame.” She only half covered up her trepidation with a grin. “Why exactly is this book relevant?”

“It’s one of the major arcana when it comes to recreational tripping. It features Buddhist teachings on how to reach intermediate dream states, like the brink of death, sensations of rebirth, that kind of thing. Once the hippies got their hands on it they opened all new avenues of consciousness. With my help you’ll be able to ascend into a drug induced mania, where you’ll hopefully find the ape ghoul thingy.”

Pacifica took a moment to digest Mabel’s words, then gave a long breath out. “Not to cast shade, but that doesn’t sound like it will work. Getting high to catch a demon? Really, Mabel?”

Ignoring her friend’s pessimism, Mabel continued her frenzied dance around the tight space. At each of the five corners of the pentagon she set down a candle and lit each one. Pacifica felt confined, unwilling to move a muscle out of position lest she knock one of them over.

“Ritual can be a tricky thing,” Mabel said as she waved a match to put out the flame, “but believe me, it works. I’ve experienced it. If you think Gravity Falls is strange normally then you ain’t seen nothing. There’s a whole other side to this town.” She picked up the chalk and started linking the corners of the pentagon with straight, criss-crossing lines. Pretty soon Pacifica was enclosed in an even smaller floor space at the centre of a pentagram. “I’m not talking about the sub-realms like the Unicorn glade or the Crawlspace. This perception of the Falls can only be accessed by guided meditation, aided by a little boost from my good friend Lucy.”

“Who’s-”

Mabel triumphantly set a small vial down on the floor by Pacifica’s feet, inviting her to take a look. The vial was filled with a clear liquid that congealed slightly when Pacifica shook the glass container. “Trust you to have a supply handy,” she muttered.

“That’s some genuine lysergic acid diethylamide, LSD for short. Perfect for inducing otherworldly vision states and dissolution of the self. I bet that skull you’re wearing is probably infused with a trace element of something similar. Maybe something like magic mushrooms, though in a quantity that’s barely detectable. So, you ready to take your first trip?”

Pacifica swilled the chemical around experimentally. “What if I have a bad reaction? God knows my body is still flooded with hormones.”

Mabel screwed up her face. “After six months? Nah. I’ll be here in hand if you have any bad reactions, and I’ll keep the dosage nice and low for your first time, don’t worry. A couple of micrograms should do it.” Inserting a pipette she extracted a handful of drops. “It’s easy really, mixing and diluting to create my own brews.”

“Alright, calm down Walter White. Mabel Juice and Smile Dip addled your brain and you need ever stronger doses to hit the same high, huh?”

Mabel shrugged and flashed a wicked smile. She swung the pipette towards Pacifica. “Now, open wide. A drop or two on the tongue should do it.” Pacifica recoiled, keeping her mouth clammed up like when Leah refused to eat her baby food.

“I’m… not sure about this. Maybe in the morning we can search for the Unshriven again, with clearer heads.”

Mabel frowned. “It might not still be lurking around by tomorrow. You’ve gotta face it down on its home turf. The astral plane.” She made an arc with her hand. Pacifica found it silly how childish her friend could make this sound. The Unshriven was a matter of life and death. “The mindscape can be accessed by certain spells, but a raw approach can be more rewarding. It’s kinda like knitting a sweater. The warp and weft of time and space can be tamed with a little expansion of consciousness. You won’t even need to leave this room.”

“Are you sure you're not just hallucinating during these ‘spirit journeys’? That would be the more obvious explanation. You’re really trying to tell me you’ve stumbled onto a mystical sub-realm all on your own? Mason’s never mentioned anything like this. Nor your uncle Ford in all his journals.”

“They don’t know everything.” Mabel winked.

Her irreverent dismissal rankled. Corduroy had expressed similar sentiments. Pacifica could accept the locals might have some innate cultural knowledge the journals were lacking, but this was on a grander scale. An entirely new way of seeing the Falls, just a few drops of a chemical away. When she put it like that there was a certain tantalising allure to the prospect.

The journals had always been a means of cataloguing the oddities of the Falls, making sense of the insanity, boxing the phenomena into neat categories. Here was Mabel casually coming along and blowing up the entire paradigm. Pacifica refused to believe it had been an entirely futile effort. Whatever happened tonight she would venture forth and bring back a report to add to her journal, and colonise some small corner of the extremities of the strange.

“Alright. I’ll do it.” Pacifica didn’t second-judge the statement. It would be her last, definitive word. What came next would be her own choice to confront.

“Great!” Mabel said, beaming with joy, before taking on a more serious conviction. “Oh, and by the way, before we start I wanted to say sorry for another reminder about you know who.” Mabel gestured at the purloined Northwest tapestries. “If it's not too much to ask, when was the last time you spoke to them?”

Pacifica folded her arms and leant back as far as she dared without bumping into the candles. “We email from time to time. Strictly on the short end, mainly life updates. They tell me about some successful trade deal, I share baby photos of Leah. That’s about it. I haven’t spoken to them face to face since the wedding.”

Mabel blew air out from her cheeks. “Wow, eight years. Impressive streak. Puts into perspective the five years we went without seeing each other.”

“I hope I’ve been able to make up for lost time in the last three.” Making a quick judgement, Pacifica reached up and put a hand on Mabel’s arm. “Hey, before I do this… thanks for helping out tonight. I’ve been in a rough place and you didn’t hesitate to try and make it better. You know I’m being serious when I say this because I hate the word, but: we’re besties. Spouses not included.”

“Aw, Paz, that’s so sweet of you!” She leant in for a hug. Though she was still dripping wet and her skin was clammy, Pacifica accepted the warm embrace from the brunette. Setting her hands on each of Pacifica’s shoulders, Mabel guided her back into the seating position within the pentagram. “Ok, last chance to back out. I know I’ve made it my lifestyle, but I don’t want to sugarcoat it too much. This process isn’t always pleasant. It has to break you down before it can build you back up. Remember, you don’t have to do this.”

“I don’t have to do anything. There are no monsters rampaging around a city, no rare cryptids to protect. The only stakes are whether I can mend some turmoil between two families… and maybe find some peace of mind.”

Mabel softly grinned. “Those sound like big enough stakes to me, honey.”

Steeling herself, Pacifica put on the fur hat as a totem of good luck. “Look after my journal for me,” she said. “When I get it back I don’t want to see any illicit crayon scribbles.”

While Mabel avoided eye contact and checked her concoction one last time, Pacifica snuck a glance at her phone. She was mildly surprised to see it was only 2am - she felt like it should be much later. Her home screen, the background of which was a photo of Merrise holding Leah as they jointly rested on the couch at home, displayed a single notification. It was a message from Mason from an hour ago telling her was heading to bed. Pacifica once again felt the bond of trust, that Mason didn’t stay up on her account, having faith she’d overcome any challenge she set herself. She also guessed that he was probably a little anxious about where she was, even if he wasn’t admitting it. She fired across a short text saying she was alright and would be back in the morning. The instant after getting confirmation that it had been sent she received a thumbs up in return. He was watching out for her. Pacifica put the phone away, safe in the knowledge that Mason would sleep well knowing she was in no danger. No immediate danger at least.

Mabel cleared her throat and spread her arms out above her head, beginning a proclamation. “It’s time. The osprey skull will be your anchoring thread, tying you to the Unshriven so you can combat him on the astral plane. You’re all ready to go, prepared to take the plunge, embrace the strange, taste of the forbidden fruit.”

Pacifica shooed her fussy friend away. “Relax, it’s not my first cosmic dream vision.” She stuck out her tongue and waited patiently. Mabel squeezed out two tiny drops of acid. Pacifica detected a bitter taste, but otherwise couldn’t sense any stronger flavour.

“It should take a few minutes to kick in.” Mabel moved subtly over to the shrines and the CD player. She turned the volume on the muzak down. “Oh, and if you see any geometric forms don’t buy what they’re selling.”

“I won’t,” Pacifica said with a sly smile. Mabel sounded less like an anarchist and more like a kids show host.

“Now, close your eyes, relax, and expand your horizons.”

With a click, Mabel moved onto the next music track and turned the volume to max. This was nothing like the passive ambiance of the jazz. A solo sitar chord echoed off the octagonal wood panelling. Already Pacifica was unsettled. The sitar reverberated off the walls and through her bones. It wasn’t a pleasant sound, the rhythms discordant and overlapping with one another. The sitar had an artificial twang, electronically synthesised. A low hiss, the artefact of the old player, only heightened the sense of eeriness.

Very soon Pacifica was no longer aware of Mabel’s presence, fussing about around her, nor of the surrounding room. As the sitar increased in tempo she felt adrift from the normality of the simple room in the simple house. She tried in vain to focus on the feeling of the wood panels beneath her rear, but this too dissipated away like a half-remembered dream.

Now what was she supposed to do? “Mabel?” Nothing. No sound. Only the barest hint of flickering candles. Even the haunting sitar echoed as if distant. Maybe more time was needed to let the effects of the drug become noticeable. She kept her eyes resolutely sealed shut and tried to picture in her mind an image of the Unshriven. The bared tusks glinted a dull eggshell white over black fur, as dark as driving on the interstate out of the valley at night. The image quickly faded. A memory, that was all. She couldn’t actually find her target by wishing hard enough.

A blur danced at the edge of her vision, in the black space behind her eyelids. Her blood ran cold. The Unshriven was there, lingering like a bad penny in the corner of her eye. But that was ridiculous. It couldn’t be as simple as this. It was all psychedelic hokum. A drawing on the floor, some candles and low lighting, a few words of guidance. Surely she wasn’t that suggestible?

She peeked her eyelids open and gasped in rapidly surmounting horror. The walls of the room were melting away like paint dribbling off a canvas, like wax on a candle. Of Mabel there was no sign. Pressure built behind her eyes and she was unable to prevent herself falling backwards into the newly formed expanse of emptiness.

In a free fall, air rushed past her. Fragments of Mabel’s shrine went flying by, shattered glass fragments, torn threads, and broken planks of wood spinning into the abyss. Pacifica flailed out for any kind of support. She only succeeded in sending herself spinning.

Abruptly she came to a halt, suspended horizontally. She blinked and tried to understand what she was seeing. No matter how disorientated she told herself it was her own brain that was the cause, random synapses firing under the delirious effects of a potent chemical. Unless she’d already entered the so-called ‘other side’ of Gravity Falls.

Gradually the darkness resolved beneath her. She began to glide downwards, no longer in deleterious descent. Stretched out in front of her eyes was a round, grey basin. The scale put her off at first. Everything was rendered in miniature, as if viewed through a microscope. Recognition sparked in her mind when she saw a pair of dramatically split rocky outcroppings. The view was in fact her home - the valley of Gravity Falls, lit in a harsh contrasting monochrome.

She strained to make out details. The mountains around the town and the dome-shaped hill of Crash Site Omega were visible, as vast defining parts of the landscape, but the rest was a bleached blur that made her eyes water. It was like peering through the static fuzz of a television, trying to comprehend the image of a low resolution black & white video. No, not quite monochrome, she realised. The landscape below was lit up in contrast to the endless galaxy-filled sky above. She was seeing through a form of night vision.

Propelled downwards at high speed, her body swept over the treetops. She moved in graceful arcs, her motion that of a bird of prey. She stared down at the osprey amulet but saw only a pair of feathery wings on either side of her body. Part of herself accepted the transformation. If becoming an osprey was a requirement to traverse the spirit realm then who was she to argue?

Swooping past the outskirts where Mabel and Zera’s abode was found, she traced an invisible ley line through the woods. In this perception there were no modern structures, merely half-formed echoes. The town high-street was an assemblage of foundations etched in swirling purple contours. Singular eye-bats drifted in flocks, observing all that transpired.

Pacifica landed on an outcrop of bare granite, her body seamlessly returning to her basic human form, flaws and all. She tried to take a closer look around but her vision was swamped with distracting shimmers. A spotlight trained on her face would be less blinding. Stumbling forwards she left the site of the town behind almost too swiftly. Space was compressed as she was shuttled along a conveyor belt across the divots and hillocks of the valley bottom.

Dizzy, she fell against the trunk of a tree. The wood snapped and collapsed. The pallid grey bark made Pacifica throw up her palms. It was diseased, near dead. The bark oozed sickly globs of congealed fluid. Pacifica watched in stunned bewilderment as the putrescent sap drifted up into the air. The texture was akin to blood, but paler, a mix of scarlet and pink. The globules vanished up into the spiral of stars suspended in the firmament.

Pacifica’s urge to flee became overwhelming again. That was when she really became frightened. The Unshriven was right in front of her, breath hot in her face. It was even more pungent than when she’d come close to the ape in the flesh. The odour was that of repression, of paper and leather left so long that it rotted into mulch, of sticky sweat clinging to skin during every vulnerable moment, and everything that signalled death. The creature reared up on its stubby legs and roared. The skin below its neck started melting away, rolling off the torso like cooking meat, exposing bone and sinew. It had found a way to become even more abhorrent.

Pacifica’s grasp on the situation deteriorated to the point she felt faint. Her legs gave out from beneath her and she tumbled to the cold and sterile earth. Her back impacted on a soft bed of grass. She blinked twice. Bemused and pleasantly surprised to see no sign of the Unshriven, she rose unsteadily. A meadow of gently swaying tall grass, lit golden by a half-set sun, surrounded her. In one direction were vast cliffs towering over an ocean of raging tides. In the other, a castle delicately perched atop a conical mountain peak. Pacifica was at peace here in the warm breeze. She screwed her eyes shut and remembered.

This was Dimension 52. A realm so distant from her own that it hardly felt real at all, even when she’d visited in-person. That trip hadn’t been long after her body had been irrevocably altered, purged of all scars and skin marks. It was where she’d had her first realisation that life would never go back to the way it had been before. This was the world on which Leah had been conceived.

For the first time a frenzied panic overcame Pacifica. Leah was conceived in another dimension. The simple fact now terrified her. She’d never even thought about it, about what it meant for a child to develop inside her across multiple universes, where the laws of physics were malleable. There was every chance that she’d suffered acute radiation poisoning from all their hops between dimensions. What could that do to a growing embryo? For all she knew it had caused irreversible birth defects for her child.

That didn’t make sense. Leah was perfect. Her new reproductive system was freshly minted after all, and six months had shown her no indications of illness or disorder from her baby. Unless it was a fragile window of normality before the horrors came crashing down.

The light of Dimension 52’s sun winked out. Gusts of wind blew against Pacifica’s exposed arms and grass tickled her ankles, though these sensations soon disappeared as well. She shielded her eyes when a single harsh light burst into existence above her. The intensity made her stumble. She knew this place too. Not here. Anywhere but here.

Crumpling against asphalt, a great weight held her down. Spitting rain and tears obscured her sight but she couldn’t mistake the light pouring from the open window. The house she’d shared with Mason in Jersey had never been inviting. Now she dreaded the very sight of it. This was her lowest moment, when she’d convinced herself that even the ones she loved most didn’t want to be around her. When her infertility had finally become impossible to ignore and utter despair felt like the only path available.

“No, please,” she whimpered, her throat ragged. Through the haze in her mind she tried to focus on her happiest memories. Surely that would work to keep herself anchored. She pictured squid whales dancing through an ocean in the sky. Her first kiss, music thudding through her entire body, her heart beating even stronger. The gift of a yellow sweater, specially re-knitted just for her. She tried hardest to imagine her daughters wrapped in her arms. Her two baby girls were like smoke, intangible and gone from her embrace.

Her stomach gurgled uncontrollably. A yawning dread opened up before Pacifca. She knew it was about to get worse. Contractions wracked her lower body, sending spasms through her legs. Her hand gripped against her shirt and failed to stem the awful churning inside. She could feel movement below the skin of her belly as it flexed and gurgled. Fleshy lumps pressed out from within. Pacifica laid back, screaming through the unimaginable pain.

A gaping hole tore asunder between her legs. Muscles painfully forced a living creature out of her womb. It slopped on the ground, coated in internal fluids and blood, tied to her by a pale umbilical cord. Pacifica’s daughter stared up at her with bloodshot, unblinking eyes. Her daughter had no skin. Pacifica decided that screaming again was besides the point. She curled up in the foetal position, as helpless as her child.

She was paralysed in the rain, pathetic and helpless. The light in the house was switched off. Not even Mason would come from her this time. She was an infertile wreck, unfit for motherhood, let alone heroics. Everything her parents had said about her was right.

A light pierced the edge of her vision. Above her Corduroy’s judging face leered. Which Corduroy it was, the father she’d pledged to help or the daughter she’d failed to save, didn’t matter. The gaze penetrated her useless body all the same.

“Get up.” Pacifica raised her head at the voice, barely daring to believe it. “Get. Up. Pacifica.” She groped in the air for a supportive hand, dropping it down again as she was overcome with fatigue.

“I can’t… why do you think I can do this?”

“Because, whether Northwest, or Pines, or something else, you are a warrior. You struck out from your parents, your wealth, your legacy. The only person who can define who you are is staring at you in the mirror.” Corduroy offered a helping hand. “So. Get up.”

Surging with a burst of energy, Pacifica accepted the outstretched hand and climbed out of the puddle of despair. She shuddered, finding herself alone again. No helping hand, no nightmarish homunculus of her daughter. Her surroundings had been replaced by the lifeless woods once more.

She wasn’t infertile. Quite the opposite. Pacifica wasn’t sure which alternative made her more uncomfortable at the moment. She didn’t want to be reduced to this, to sinew and bone and organic processes deep inside. But then, what was this drug trip if not another physical process?

Striving for something inside herself she didn’t fully understand, Pacifica took the first step forwards, stumbling towards salvation.

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfic #pacifica northwest #mabel pines #tw drugs

2 notes · View notes

darkspine10 · 1 month

Text

#the owl house #camila noceda

37K notes · View notes

darkspine10 · 2 months

Text

GF Fanfic - Finding Roots

Tangled Roots (21,306 words) by darkspine10

Chapters: 4/7

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Rating: Mature

Leaving her clothes drying next to a radiator, Pacifica tried and failed to walk outside and face Mabel and Zera for the sixth time in a row. It was taking her an age to step outside, self-conscious of them seeing her bare skin. She mainly put it down to her being uncomfortable in the borrowed swimsuit. Mabel’s taste in pink was a bit more vibrant than her own, to put it lightly, but the colour wasn’t the problem.

Mabel was by any standard slimmer than she was. She had a slenderer frame in general, with her gangly limbs and wiry body. It meant that Pacifica struggled to adequately fit in the bikini top. Her asymmetric breasts were disgustingly crammed in, showing more cleavage and nipples poking through the fabric than she would ever be comfortable with in public. Fortunately, she only had to entertain her sister-in-law and her wife, a marginally easier prospect. In the end she opted to wear the osprey skull necklace over the swimsuit. As a fashion statement it was gauche, but it would serve to draw attention subtly away from her insecurities.

Meanwhile a bandage patch taped on her arm covered up the scratches. Cleaned of blood and dirt, after all she’d inflicted upon herself it turned out the cuts weren’t actually that deep. With luck the marks would fade in a few weeks, leaving barely a trace of her self-caused attempt at scarring herself. Good, she thought. It had been deluded of her to think of doing such a thing in the first place. “Fucking hell,” she muttered, aghast at her own behaviour. She dipped into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face to wipe away the last trace of her fading and smudged make up. The morning felt like a very long time ago.

She wandered around Mabel’s new living room. It was lightly furnished but had an inviting stone fireplace and couch combination that she had to tear herself away from lest she curl up and fall asleep. Cardboard boxes full of ornaments and disassembled furniture were strewn everywhere. Pacifica stepped on tiptoes, afraid of coming upon Mabel’s pet snake. It wouldn’t be good if she ended up accidentally stepping on her and getting bitten. She had enough marks from tonight already.

Before finally leaving the sanctity of the living room, she wrote a quick note in her journal. The book had thankfully remained dry in an inside pocket of her jacket, though she made sure to position it by the fire to rid any chance of damp setting in. Her urge to document the encounter with the ape monster made her pen dance across the page in an unbidden flurry. It was times like these she felt closest to Mason, understanding the frenzied desire to commit the memories to paper before all the details were lost. Satisfied she had enough notes to remind her of finer details later, she steeled herself, for the cold and the company, and stepped into the garden.

A set of square granite paving stones lead out through the grassy lawn, saving her bare feet from treading on dirt. Approaching the hot tub, she climbed up wooden steps, slicked wet with condensation. A layer of steam hanging above the water was tantalisingly warm against her icy skin.

Zera and Mabel were already soaking in the water, their arms in a reclining position in adjacent corners of the pool. Mabel’s tattoos were on full display all up her arms, a riot of colour. She had seen her skin as a canvas, continuously adding to the collection over the past 15 years. Pink and green butterflies, a golden pine tree, blue swirls in an alien language, she had it all. Compared to Pacifica’s pure, untainted body each tattoo was a link to the past. Mabel noticed her lingering at the edge of the light and waved her over. “Come on in Paz, the water’s lovely.”

Pacifica rolled her eyes. Of course it was lovely, Mabel was in precise control of the temperature with a dial. She stepped gingerly around fake plastic stone cairns which attempted to give the hot tub the look of a Japanese onsen. A gaudy plastic flamingo and inflated palm trees rather clashed with the effect.

The second her toe entered the water it was as if a weight lifted off her shoulders. Her muscles began to relax as a lot of the stress she’d been holding onto melted away. Even though the bandage on her arm was waterproof she still felt a tingle when she lowered herself into the steaming water. Wiggling until she was comfortable, she made sure her chest was partially under the water’s surface. She spread her hair out on the side of the hot tub, as it was still taking ages to dry from her first plunge, so she wasn’t about to restart the whole process.

“So,” Mabel asked, glad to see her friend was enjoying the restorative qualities of the water, “what brings you out here on a night like this?”

“Would you believe I was out looking for a dangerous monster?”

“Really?” Mabel was shocked, though only mildly. In this town monster hunting was a semi-regular occurrence. “I thought maybe your house had burnt down again.”

“No, it’s still standing. At least it was when I left,” she added, making both Mabel and Zera laugh. She smiled, easing up amidst the jovial mood. “I guess I’ll tell you the full story.” The full story was quickly pared down into edited highlights. She didn’t mention her motivations, besides that Manly Dan was involved, and focused more on the practicalities of her search for the Unshriven and ensuing pursuit. The couple remained enraptured during her entire narrative. “Anyway, then I blundered over your fence and that’s how I ended up taking an unwanted dip.”

Zera wagged a finger. “That’s what you get for vaulting into random strangers’ gardens.” She flashed a wink at Pacifica to show she was only teasing.

In the other corner Mabel was her usual excited self and had hung on every word during the story. “Woah, that ape thing sounds intense.”

Zera simply nodded, her eyes half-lidded and seemingly content to rest in the water with her head leaning on the side. Pacifica couldn’t blame her for not being as invested; she had interrupted the pair’s private relaxing evening after all.

“You’re pretty lucky it didn’t maul you any deeper. You might have got gutted,” Mabel said a bit too eagerly.

“What, this?” She raised and lowered her bandaged arm with a weak splash. “This was nothing glamorous. I fell through a bush.”

“Oh.” Mabel visibly deflated, then perked up again almost as swiftly. “Well, I’m sure you were super brave to be out there in the first place. Manly Dan is bound to appreciate it. A big macho guy like that could do with accepting a friendly helping hand from time to time.”

“Maybe.” Pacifica picked up the amulet, then let it droop back down. Her mission in hunting the beast wasn’t entirely about soothing Corduroy’s ego. She wasn’t about to broach the subject in its entirety.

“I dated a Corduroy once.” Mabel tapped her chin in remembrance. Pacifica expected more of a reaction from Zera, since she was married to Mabel, but it garnered only a quick sidewards glance. They must be comfortable talking about past relationships, she surmised.

“Which one,” Pacifica asked, now she knew the topic wasn’t taboo. “Kevin or Gus?”

“You know, I'm not actually sure I remember.”

This cracked Pacifica up, and for the first time that day she started laughing out loud. The giggles she found herself overcome by were infectious, making Mabel join in as well.

“He was very shy. I don’t think he’d so much as talked to a girl beside his sister before. Boy, you shoulda seen the way his dick shrivelled up at the sight of my hoo-ha.”

Pacifica screwed up her face. “Mabel, you’re oversharing.” Her friend blushed and sank a little way so only her nose and eyes were visible above the water.

“My bad,” she gargled. “I’m still in girl talk mode I guess.”

“My fault,” Zera said, hand on heart.

Pacifica looked at the woman, her eyes crossing and uncrossing. Her brain must have been too distracted to focus as she noticed for the first time that Zera was in her human guise rather than displaying her true alien nature. “Hey, you’re wearing your perception filter,” she stated. Briefly her eyes unblurred and she saw Zera’s aquamarine scales in place of brown skin. Underneath the illusion she had all the bearing of a great white.

Zera scratched at her earlobe and the grey triangular earring that generated the effect. “Oh, yeah, sometimes May and I like to switch things up. Explore alternatives.” The alien woman bit her lip, unsure how far to go, but Mabel handily put her foot in it.

“It’s healthy to explore the bounds of our relationship. It’s really fun. Sometimes I even put the filter on and Zera sees me as an alien!”

“What does a S’aren version of Mabel Pines look like?” Pacifica asked Zera in a hushed whisper out of the side of her mouth.

“Like a perch and a halberd had a baby,” the alien replied, and Pacifica couldn’t be sure if her tone was derogatory or affectionate.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” Pacifica said matter-of-factly, not wanting to get too deep into the details of her friend’s freaky sex life. “With the amount of different species Mabel’s courted of course you’d be into trying new things.”

“Yeah, you would not believe how easy it is to spice up your love life with a bit of magic. Who knew this town was the perfect place to find aphrodisiacs.”

“Mabel?” Pacifica interrupted.

“Yeah?”

“Too much info.”

“Oops, sorry again.”

Pacifica smiled, finding Mabel’s forgetfulness amusing for once. After the day she’d had she needed a bit of levity. “On the other hand, you managed to keep this little venture quiet.” She gestured back towards the house. It was a quaint two-storey cottage, built out of wooden planks with a sloping roof. A chimney poked out, giving the air of a secluded forest retreat. “You two are living out the ideal cottagecore lesbian experience. When did you move in?”

Mabel bore a sheepish grin, and her cheeks were a deeper red than any awkward conversation about her private life could bring out. “Last Tuesday.” As far as Pacifica had known Mabel and Zera had spent the weeks since New Year’s bouncing between various motels while arranging the move to Gravity Falls. She had no idea they were so far along in their plans. “I wanted to get the place nice and ready then bam- have a party or something. It was gonna be a huge surprise.”

“First you didn’t tell us about your wedding, now this. Secrets secrets.” She shook her head teasingly. “I guess it can still be a surprise for Mace and the kids. We can do a picnic or something, when it’s warmer. I'm sure you can come up with a classically ‘you’ way of revealing it.”

This raised Mabel’s mood and her blush started to fade. She whispered a thank you, glad to have the burden of lying, even over something so minor, out of the way. “How are you two and the kids anyway? We didn’t have much of a chance to catch up earlier.”

“Oh, the kids are…” She came up short, suddenly aware that this was something she didn’t want to discuss in depth. “...fine.” She searched for a way to deflect the topic. “What about you guys? Ever thought about kids?”

From their vacant glances the couple didn’t seem to have given it much thought. Zera shrugged. “We haven’t talked about it much.”

“Maybe someday,” Mabel added, “but not right now. It’d be so exciting, but there’s a lot going on, settling in, getting used to living together.”

“It can be shackling,” Pacifica said offhand in such a way to not raise further attention.

Mabel tapped her chin. “Though we have been thinking about opening things up a bit in another way.” Her eyebrows wiggled and her fingers tickled Zera’s shoulder. “You know, get someone else in on the dynamic. I don’t suppose… you know anyone, Paz?”

Pacifica blinked, then diplomatically said, “There are many things I’d do for you, Mabel, but I’m not helping you find a third.”

“And I thought you humans were meant to be open about your sexualities,” Zera said, though Pacifica could tell she was joking.

“Didn’t you two just get married three months ago?” Pacifica asked, slightly uneasy with the line of questioning.

“Yeah!” Mabel said as if not even conceiving of that being a problem.

Well, if it works for them, Pacifica thought with a shrug. Eager to move on, she said, “Back to your house, it looks pleasant at least. You’ve chosen a nice spot, and the design is inviting. I’d know. Though I will say your choice in decorations are a little… eclectic.”

Pacifica pointed to the roof, which was strewn with flashing coloured lights. There was even a cardboard sleigh pulled by straw reindeer. When Mabel went all out with decorating, she went all out. “I think you forgot the fact that Christmas was nearly a month ago.”

“Well, we moved in after Christmas ended, so we missed our chance to decorate. I had to make up for that devastating loss. In this house the decorations stay up ‘til February! That’s a Mabel promise!” She nodded vigorously, while Zera did the same with less energy. “Though the lights do keep attracting giant moths and Peek-a-blights. This town is great, but the locals can be annoying. I’ll have to create another unicorn shield when I have the time.“

“So you finally decided to settle in one spot,” Pacifica said with some respect. For some years now Mabel had been an itinerant, wandering not only this country, but all over the world. Even getting hitched hadn’t tied her down.

“My New Year’s Resolution was to make roots for myself. You know what my life’s been like.” Pacifica nodded. She was all too aware of Mabel’s ‘career’ in protesting corporations and the government. Taking a break from all that would probably do her some good. “I wanna help out with my protest groups, but made a promise to myself and to Zera to stick it out in one place for a year, maybe two, to see how it goes.”

“The great agitator, May Pines, finally calling it quits?”

“Not entirely. I’ve been running communication lines for contacts all up the West Coast. I’ve got invaluable tactical knowledge.”

“Let me guess: you know a guy who knows a guy, and your job is introducing other guys to those guys.”

“Got it in one, Paz.” She winked and pointed finger guns in Pacifica’s direction. “It’s not as satisfying as chucking a brick at a cop’s head, but it is probably more practical in the long run.”

Pacifica shook her head “I don’t get it. You're saving little ducklings crossing the street one minute and trying to tear down society the next.”

“Two sides of the same coin, sister. Can’t make a better world without a dash of compassion and a pinch of action.”

Something about the way Mabel talked about this stuff always confused Pacifica. On the one hand was the Mabel she’d known since childhood, happy-go-lucky and carefree, and on the other was some kind of tactical planner aiming to overthrow the government. It jarred, even as she was somewhat sympathetic to her aims.

Beneath all the sunshine and rainbows and smiles was a girl who wasn’t afraid to pack a mean punch. She probably got it from her conman of an uncle. Mabel had always been attracted to shady people. When Pacifica found out that her first serious boyfriend, an emo teenager, turned out to be a stack of gnomes out to woo her, suddenly everything about Mabel’s love life made perfect sense. Zera was no different, with her history scamming people beyond the stars. Pacifica wondered if she ever looked up at the night sky on nights like tonight and felt a pang of longing for where she’d grown up. Did Zera have the same conflicted emotions that she did towards a home that she both adored and reviled?

Pacifica didn’t know the answer. She did know that Zera and Mabel seemed happy together in married bliss, so she wasn’t about to judge them too harshly. She gave a single chuckle and ran her hand through a stream of bubbles. She enjoyed the sensation as it lightly massaged her tired joints. “Not bad for a day that started with a funeral,” she said idly to herself.

“That’s why we’re out here,” Mabel said, turning glum. “I got all depressed and miserable during the memorial earlier. Then we went and got ice cream for lunch and I felt way better!”

“Hooray for you,” Pacifica muttered under her breath.

“Plus we get to see the light show.”

Though the stars still illuminated the canopy above, Pacifica couldn’t see even a glimmer of a meteor trail. The girls had been unlucky tonight, missing the apogee of the cosmic event. As she watched the lights twinkle through the atmosphere, she felt a sudden twinge of guilt. Mentioning the funeral had been a mistake. It reminded her that somewhere up there, out in the vast omniversal web of time and space, Wendy had given her life to save this world.

“How do you do it, Mabel? How do you mourn someone you never truly knew when they were alive?”

“Say what now, Pacifica?” Mabel was caught off guard by this line of questioning.

“How do you deal with the fact those days are gone and you can never get them back no matter how hard you try? I missed my chance to understand her.”

“Are you talking about Wendy?” Zera asked, her first contribution to proceedings in a while. “I didn’t know her much either. Like, half an hour at best. Nor Eli,” she added for Mabel’s benefit. “It was a busy day.”

She stretched a hand over to Mabel, who planted a kiss on her knuckles. Mabel straightened her back. “Hey, we don’t need to get all mopey about that. Not when we’ve got a Turbo Deluxe, top of the range Minerva Spa 5000! With all the extra features!” She cranked a dial on the edge of the tub, sending out a forceful jet of bubbles right beneath where Pacifica was sitting. The water churned and swirled, forming a miniature whirlpool in the centre. “It’s got multicoloured mood lighting, directional controls on all of the vents, plus a complimentary seating deck and chairs, vibrating seat functions, a mini-fridge accessory…”

Listening to Mabel rattle off endless pointless facts about bubble flow and seating optimisation, Pacifica found herself entering an almost trance-like reverie. The comfortable warmth of the water made her muscles slacken and her mind spin in circles.

“I wish I cared as much as you,” she blurted out, cutting off Mabel in mid-flow.

“It’s never too late to get into hot tubs in a big way!”

“No, not about that.” Pacifica’s voice cut through the air. She’d had to raise her voice to be heard over the churning water. Mabel sat there opposite, slightly stunned. When she spoke again it was hoarsely. “I wish I could care as much as you can about anything. You always have so much passion for life. There are times I feel like I can barely match it. Mason has it too, the way he obsesses over his journals and investigating mysteries. I like doing a lot of things - I don’t know if I actually love any of them.”

Mabel waved a dismissive hand “Ah, We all get a little down at this time of the month.” She winked exaggeratedly.

Pacifica blinked in response. “N- No, Mabel- I’m not on my period.”

“Phew, that’s good. Me neither!”

Slightly baffled, Pacifica tried to steer the conversation back on track. “It’s not seasonal, I just… maybe I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.”

“That’s the thing with bleeding and cramps, yeah?” Zera asked. She leant towards Pacifica as if in explanation. “My body cycle is pretty different to a human’s.”

Pacifica glanced from Zera to Mabel and back, her mind uncomfortably racing with thoughts of alien anatomy. “Are you two even… compatible?” She tapped the ends of her fingers together while stifling a blush.

Mabel suddenly looked down at her with a serious expression. “What, you want to know if we were planning to spend all night scissoring til we pass out?”

“Ew, Mabel! That’s the grossest thing you’ve said all night.” She blushed uncomfortably and covered her face with a hand, leading Mabel to burst into giggles. “Don’t you have any kind of filter before you speak?” she shouted.

“Well sure. It was just funny to make you squirm.” Mabel splashed a handful of water in Pacifica’s direction, mindful to miss on purpose so as not to agitate her arm. “Come on, hot-tub time is the best for letting out all that kind of personal biz. We could play Truth or Dare or Don’t!”

Pacifica leant her head back so far she hit the edge of the hot-tub. “I hate that game. It’s nothing but pointless challenges or over-sharing things I’d rather keep to myself, and it fundamentally doesn’t work if anyone can opt out whenever they like! The last time we played it we were 17 for crying out loud!”

“I’ll take that as a ‘Don’t’, then,” Zera said.

“Oh, very droll.”

Mabel, fiddling with the dial to try to reduce the noise of the bubbles, spoke up. “You did indirectly end up dating my brother because of that game though. It made you so mad you stormed off and had that ‘quiet moment’ together where you ‘talked things out’.” Mabel made air quotes with her fingers. “Maybe we could talk things out now? If there’s something bugging you.”

“It’s nothing, I’m perfectly fine,” she lied, sinking into the water to try and hide her expression.

“Come on Paz. Five minutes ago you were getting all existential on us, with all the missed chances and mourning junk. Is this about Wendy? Or yourself?” Holding up her palms, Mabel stood up out of the water. “Look, you don’t have to say anything you don’t want to, but this is an accepting space where no-one will judge you.”

“I might judge you a little,” Zera said with a sly grin. Mabel kicked water in her face and shot her a dirty look. That only made Zera’s shark-like expression widen.

“The point is,” Mabel continued, “that we might be able to help. We won’t know how to do that unless you spill some beans.” She looked around for a can of beans to knock over but was disappointed.

Pacifica floated indecisively, face half in and half out of the water. “It’s… kind of a lot.” Mabel remained smiling, inviting her to speak her truth. “I…” After everything she’d been through today, what was one more risky step? “It’s the pregnancy,” she bluntly stated, and before either of the others could do anything but pull confused looks she carried on. “Yeah, I gave birth six months ago, I get it. But damnit, I still don’t feel normal again. I’m stuck with a body I can’t stand the sight of even though I’m fully aware it’s average at worst, and a baby I’m shackled to for the rest of my life.”

Mabel tried to interject but Pacifica wasn’t done. “It’s not a fairytale motherhood. It’s vomit, and shit, and crying, and staying awake all night terrified something might happen and regretting it and not regretting it… it’s too much.” She clasped a hand over her eyes and ran it through her hair. She breathed in and out. “I can handle Merrise. She’s mature enough to take care of herself most of the time. Just when I’m warming to one kid - bam! I get saddled with another of the little bastards.”

“Hey, don’t be like that,” Mabel reprimanded, more disappointed than angry. “You’re supposed to love Wendy. You always said she was such a blessing.”

“I know, and I do. That’s the problem. She’s the most important thing in my life and yet I’m repulsed by the thought of having to care for her and the way I’ve reacted. Look at me!” She angrily thrust herself towards Zera and Mabel, who tried to avoid staring. “I don’t know what you see but I see a freak. It’s not rational, it’s not pleasant, and it sure as fuck isn’t the way I want to feel about my appearance. I can’t help it. I’m… damaged goods.” She wrapped her arms around herself in as tight an embrace as she could manage.

There was a moment of silence, where the only sound was the humming of the hot tub. “Uh, maybe I should go inside?” Zera motioned to get out of the water but Mabel shot her down with a look and pulled her back.

Mabel spent a few seconds wringing her hands, then scooched around the edge of the hot tub, slowly moving to sit beside Pacifica. She reached to put an arm around her shoulders but held back when Pacifica flinched. A second later she tried again and held her friend in a light hug. They rocked together gently from side to side. “Oh Pacifica, baby. You don’t have to face it alone. Have you told-“

“Mason? Not yet, not ever if I can help it. It’s not like he doesn’t help out with the kids, he’s been a great father. But it’s not the same. He treats me like a goddess most of the time. The last thing I want is to be put on a pedestal.”

Zera mouthed something to Mabel, who similarly fired back, darting her eyes over to Pacifica to make her point. With a sigh Zera stayed where she was, grudgingly accepting whatever her wife had signalled. Mabel slowly stroked Pacifica’s hair.

“Your folks are back in the Cube again,” Mabel said.

Pacifica shot up straight and shifted a little away from Mabel. “So, so what? Why should I care?”

‘The Cube’ was their derogatory nickname for the modernist house the Northwest family had moved into after losing the manor. It was blocky and passionless, clad in grey and black that made it look like a concrete brick had been dropped in the middle of town. A high surrounding wall further removed it from the common inhabitants, though it couldn’t live up to the privileged position the family had once commanded. The Northwests now spent their time moving around, living for certain months here and the rest of their time at a beachfront property in Los Angeles. They had never been fond of the town, with its magic always uncomfortably intruding, treating it more as an obligation than a home.

Mabel shrugged. “Just making conversation,” she said half-heartedly, and Pacifica could tell her words had a deeper meaning.

“Don’t gimme that bull. Are you trying to set me off?”

“It might work to redirect your emotions. You can start by analysing how your negative thoughts all feed back to one source.”

“Mabel, I already know my parents were terrible. For crying out loud, they’re corporate ghouls! They basically abused me!”

“I know. But they don’t have anything to do with your life anymore. You don’t have to carry around some bitter hatred for them everywhere you go. You can just… let it go.” Mabel put her hands over her heart. “I’m not saying you have to forgive them, that would be awful of me.”

Pacifica rolled her eyes into the back of her skull. “Oh yeah, cause it’s so easy to come to terms with! It’s alright when you reconcile with your parents. They aren’t fundamentally awful people!” She pressed her fists against her forehead. “Maybe those assholes had a point. The greedy little girl who can’t even be satisfied when everything in her life falls into place. When am I gonna get it through my thick skull that I’m a broken piece of property!” Her hands began to tremble. Her next words were choked out. “Or is even that too grandiose? Why can’t it ever be simple? Can’t I be allowed to feel this way without a sense of entitlement. Or am I a narcissist raised by narcissists?”

“Neither. You’re better than that now though!” Mabel’s voice was insistent, trying to get her to pierce through the haze of doubt. “You’re totally nice.”

“Don’t act like I’ve done a complete 180,” she spat. “I still act all superior to people. You might not see it but there are times when I treat people like dirt.”

“Like how you’re treating yourself, right now?” Pacifica recoiled as if she’d been slapped in the face. She made to give a retort but Mabel shut her up. “They’re still acting through you, your dear old mom and dad. You can’t let them Paz. Imagine how you’d react if, say, your mom insulted me.”

She chuckled weakly. “I’d probably start a shouting match.”

Mabel grinned. “That’s the Pacifica I know. Who don’t take no guff from nobody! Not even her own self-doubt! It’s never stopped you before.” Pacifica stared down through the water at herself, floating in the bubbling pool. “You can’t get trapped inside a bubble. Trust me, I’ve been there. Literally.”

“Ever since I was born I’ve been trapped,” Pacifica replied morosely. She was then hit by a counter wave of emotion, making her feel vain for treating her life in such a way. She tried to push through and verbalise. “My parents moulded me into a perfect little clone to do their bidding. I was smothered in femininity from day one, all those expensive dresses and jackets and boots. All a means to make me constantly doubt my own self-image.”

“But I thought you like wearing pretty outfits?” Mabel was struggling to keep up with all the reversal her friend was laying out.

“I do! But do I like them because of me, or because my parents forced me to like it?”

“Why does it matter? You left them behind a long time ago. They don’t get to ruin your life now they aren’t a part of it.” Mabel hit a fist into the water. “You don’t have to follow what they tried to instil in you. You didn’t when you walked out on them at 17! You didn’t when you got married to someone they’d never choose!”

“I don’t know, Mabel. It’s like I’m in quicksand with no way out. Every time I have a pang of disdain my brain makes me guilty for being so dramatic and it makes me feel even worse. I can’t even be depressed without my privilege mucking it up. I don’t think this is something you can fix with ice cream.”

“Then we’ve gotta start with something we can fix, and work our way out from there.” Mabel held her arms open, inviting her in for a hug. Pacifica wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and let herself be enveloped in a warm embrace. “I know what we can focus on.” Mabel pointed at the bird’s skull. “I get why you’re out here in the middle of the night chasing a rumour. Your family and the Corduroys - there’s bad blood there. I think you wanted to do your part to reach across the aisle, to prove you really aren’t like the Northwests who came before. Like when you pulled that lever at the party all those years ago. No wonder you’re feeling that way, with all the memories of Wendy swarming around. It must be maddening, huh?”

Pacifica broke the hug and stared Mabel in the eye. She often looked down on her friend due to a perception of lower intelligence - another symptom of the huge ego bestowed on her by her privileged upbringing no doubt. While Mabel might not know a lot of technical jargon, she could be skilled and practical, as well as keenly emotionally intelligent. That explained her cavalier attitude to certain topics this evening. She was paving the way, subtly opening up the conversation so as to lead Pacifica into being more comfortable with serious matters. As conversational strategies went it was novel, she could acknowledge that much.

She gave a stuttering laugh. “Alright Mabel. I think I’ve had enough of pouring my heart out to you. I’m ready to try whatever you have on offer.”

“If I might offer a suggestion,” Zera said tentatively, probably afraid of triggering another breakdown from Pacifica. After how she’d acted, Pacifica couldn’t blame her. “If you want to do something practical you could finish tracking down this Unshriven thing. It sounded like something you wanted to follow through to the end. Just a thought.”

“I wish I knew how to. I tried taking a swing at it but when I tried a second time my attack went straight through. Like attacking a cloud of mist. Maybe it’s for the best. I mean, you guys saw those tusks. I would hate to be on the wrong end of them.” Mabel and Zera shared uncomprehending looks, causing Pacifica to frown. “Wait, you guys did see it right? It rubber-banded over your fence right before I fell in your pool.”

Mabel glanced at the fence and pursed her lips. “Paz, there was nothing there before you blundered in out of nowhere.”

“But then- It must have been this.” She pinched the amulet between two fingers to show it to the couple. The gemstones in the empty eyes sockets once again failed to share any answers. “This was supposed to let me find the Unshriven. Corduroy had said it had special properties. It allowed me to track the creature… but then what? Fat lot of good it does me if I can’t fight it.”

Mabel scratched her chin, unsure of how to help. She was satisfied that her friend had a practical goal to help her overcome, or at least overlook, her issues for now. “If an aggressive killer draugr monkey shits in the woods but there’s no-one around to see it, was it really there?”

“It wasn’t a monkey.”

“Huh?” Mabel felt that Pacifica had taken offence to the wrong part of the statement.

“Monkeys have tails. This was an ape. Maybe that��s the point?”

“You’ve lost me completely now,” Mabel said.

Pacifica ignored her and turned the osprey skull around so the base was facing outwards rather than the top of the head. “It’s a philosophical point. If the Unshriven is a being of higher consciousness then perhaps I’ve not got a clear enough mind. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t hit it more than once? A failure of perception.”

Mabel followed her trail to its conclusion. “So if it’s some kind of 5th dimensional thingy then it sounds like you need some way to operate on the same level.”

Pacifica smiled and let the skull hang loose. “Thanks Mabel, but I doubt you can help. We probably need some kind of dream ritual from the journal.”

“That’s where you’re wrong sister, I’ve got exactly what you need.”

“Unless it’s a magic potion then I doubt it.”

Mabel waggled her eyebrows. “Oh, it’s a potion alright.” Pacifica’s frown at Mabel’s next words was probably visible in the next state over. “Ever heard of a little something called LSD?”

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfic #pacifica northwest #mabel pines

4 notes · View notes

darkspine10 · 2 months

Text

Some art of my Fionna and Cake X Bee and Puppycat AU!

#fionna and cake #bee and puppycat

1K notes · View notes

darkspine10 · 2 months

Text

GF Fanfic - Uprooted

Tangled Roots (15,361 words) by darkspine10

Chapters: 3/7

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Rating: Mature

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Mason Pines was terrible at multitasking. More accurately he could focus his attention on a number of related tasks at once, but only at the expense of completely ignoring anything he considered a lower priority. He’d even managed to miss Pacifica’s disappearance from the funeral earlier that day, absorbed by everything else going on. He only realised she’d been absent for over an hour when she turned back up at the cemetery with Leah in arm. Or there was the wider issue he was plagued with; he was failing to juggle his passion to explore the mysteries of Gravity Falls while holding down a steady job at the same time.

Thus his current activity was finding a way to supplement what small money Pacifica brought in via her writing career. Now that night had fallen across the valley he was busily rushing around the back garden behind their house, adjusting the settings on a large telescope pointed at the stars. A bulky camera sat on a nearby table. As he popped in a roll of film with a satisfying click, he repeated the question to his wife. “You’re absolutely sure you want to do this on your own?”

“Oh yes, definitely.” Pacifica peered down the telescope’s lens and marvelled at the clarity of the patch of sky Mason had focused on. It was a cliché to her at this point that he always calibrated his measurements against the same constellation each time, Ursa Major. “What about you, Ursus, you won’t be too bored staying up all night out here in the cold? Wouldn’t you prefer to, I don’t know, spend time with your parents while they’re in town?”

He snorted. “My folks are getting up at the crack of dawn tomorrow so they can drive home.”

Witnessing the Pines family’s recent reunion hadn’t helped Pacifica’s self-esteem. Marc and Mary had embraced their children and grandchildren - even when one of those grandchildren was born on another planet. It only reminded Pacifica of the gaping void in her own life. She thought she’d overcome the need for parental gratification years ago. It seemed there was something missing that she needed to fill in after all.

Mason, not noticing her introspection, attached a long and unwieldy lens to the front of his camera and checked down the sights a few times. “Besides, I haven’t had enough excuses for this kind of fieldwork in months. A meteor shower like this one doesn’t come around every night. The university back in Jersey will pay decently for the photos; it’s always nice to help the fellows out again.” There was a slight hint of regret in his voice. Abruptly quitting and then moving across the country was never an easy transition. “I might even get lucky and be able to sell some to National Geographic, or one of the smaller nature periodicals in Oregon.”

“A little extra this month would be nice.” She bumped into him with her side. “Nice to see you pulling your weight for once.”

He gave a lopsided grin. “I always aim to please.”

“When you don’t have your nose in that journal.”

He put his hand on his chest, mildly offended. “You and the girls always come first.”

“That’s why you need a real job. So we can keep living in luxury.” She playfully kissed him on the cheek, leaving a small red mark from her lingering lipstick, then turned around to look at the house. “Mortgages don’t pay for themselves.” A few stray bits of scaffolding around the roof were a sign of the house’s newness - and a reminder of a recent monster encounter that had taken the roof clean off. They were situated on the southeast edge of town, away from the main square in a row of similar suburban homes. The garden abutted the forest, though that was true of a majority of properties in Gravity Falls.

Pacifica saw a chink of light behind Merrise’s curtains. She shook her head with a grin - though it was technically past her daughter’s bedtime, she couldn’t be annoyed. Merrise was probably listening to another podcast on her phone. Apparently radio was the dominant form of media on the planet she’d come from. It probably helped that Merrise was still learning the basics of reading. This was the easiest way to learn about the planet she now called home. She’d digested all sorts of sorts of science and history podcasts, though Pacifica had doubts that she was listening to anything other than the DD&D roleplaying series her father had foolishly let her in on.

At least Merrise would be safe and warm. Her parents’ choice of evening plans weren’t the most sensible at this time of year. Since the memorial earlier Pacifica had changed out of the formalwear into a winter jacket and jeans, with fur-lined hiking boots and a pair of thick gloves. She’d need all the protection if she went through with traipsing around the wilderness all night.

She turned back to Mason. He was likewise defending against the cold, having borrowed back Wendy’s ushanka from Merrise. It was as if Corduroy was somehow haunting her. Pacifica put a hand on her husband’s forehead as an excuse to run a finger along the fur brim of the hat. “And you’re ok after today? Not… dwelling on Wendy or anything?”

“You’re not still jealous, are you?” he asked slyly, wrapping his arms around her.

“That’s not exactly what I meant,” she said, stiffening in his grip, though she couldn’t deny it had been a factor in the past. “You’re not still all sad about it, I mean. You and her were pretty close.”

“Ah Paz, you don’t have to worry about me.” It was true, he didn’t seem outwardly concerned, busy as he was with the telescope and camera. He spoke without turning to look at her. “I’ll always miss her, that’s true. Today was a chance to reflect. But Wendy wouldn’t want anyone wasting away, distraught that she was gone. She’d want us to move on and be happy.”

His warm smile made Pacifica’s cheeks redden against the cold. She snuggled up against his back. “That’s what I’m going to do then. Find a way to honour her memory.”

“By hunting down a rumour that Manly Dan told you about?” Mason wore an expression of bemused doubt. “It’s not like you to go running around after a tenuous lead. That’s usually my MO.”

She folded her arms and defensively leant away. “What, you don’t trust Corduroy’s word?”

“Well, he’s a fine enough guy I suppose. Dependable at his job.” Pacifica stared at him with a raised eyebrow until he slumped his shoulders. “He’s not exactly the sharpest branch on the tree, if you catch my drift,” he said out of the side of his mouth. “Plus he once made fun of me for my lack of manliness.”

Pacifica burst out laughing at the admission. “Wow, still bearing a grudge, much?”

“I was 12! And emotionally vulnerable,” he muttered.

“Aw, poor wimpy Mason couldn’t handle a bit of teasing.” Pacifica couldn’t help but drape her arms around his neck. “I bet you were all sweaty and embarrassed.”

He wriggled in her soft grip. “A little. It took a lot to become the highly masculine male icon you see before you.” He flexed one of his biceps and flashed her an overly impressed dumb grin. Then he poked her in the stomach. “Not like you, you never had to work a day in your life for your body.”

Pacifica tensed up. Mason had inadvertently trodden on forbidden ground. “You don’t know the whole story,” she said flatly. Her glance turned up to see Mason’s star pattern birthmark. He’d once suffered debilitating anxiety over that unique feature and now he was proud to show it off. She hoped she’d prove able to withstand the disdain she felt towards her own body. Pecking him on the cheek as a distraction, she turned away and went back to standing tentatively at the edge of the treeline.

Mason stood beside her and shrugged. “Well if you’re determined to go through with this then good luck finding anything.”

“I don’t need luck. I’ve got this.” She reached in the pocket of her jacket and showed off the bone amulet. Mason examined it briefly with an air of dismissal. “You’ve not got much in the way of evidence. One little bird skull-”

“Osprey skull,” she corrected automatically before blushing.

Mason handed the amulet back to her and wandered over to his equipment. “Even if Corduroy thinks he’s got a lead I bet it’ll turn out to be a wild Percepshroom chase.”

“Oh, and why are you so sure of that?” Urged on by the desire to not be belittled she slipped the amulet over her neck, fanning her blonde hair so the feathers rested on top.

Mason waggled a finger. “The valley might be a hotspot of genuine paranormal denizens but there are all sorts of rumours and scuttlebutt when it comes to the wider Pacific Northwest. You’ve gotta be sceptical about these things. Like the Batsquatch, can you believe that? A big great-ape with wings for arms, what a joke. Or Colossal Claude, the 40ft long seahorse monstrosity seen roaming up and down the Columbia river. Fake fake fake.”

Pacifica found his condescending tone both off putting and kind-of appealing at the same time. It was nice to hear such confidence from her anxiety-riddled lover, even if he was putting her own pursuits down inadvertently. “I’m surprised that you of all people have a credibility limit.”

“There’s being open to new ideas and then there’s being so gullible and open-minded that your brain literally falls out. If every last crazy news story or rambling forum post was true the world would be drowning in magic and Gravity Falls wouldn’t be a unique outlier.”

“But arboreal one-eyed octopi, hormonal bull-men, and literal fairies, they’re all totally real.”

Mason chuckled and lifted up his palms in defeat. “Ok, you may have a point. It is incredible how some of our experiences can sound. What was Corduroy’s cryptid about again? Some kind of indigenous aquatic lifeform?” Before she had a chance to respond he rambled on. “Oregon is no stranger to alleged sea monsters. There are plesiosaurs in Yachats, or giant serpents all up the coast. Devil’s Lake is right next to the ocean. The most likely explanation for any sightings is that some giant squid or a mutated whale ended up washed in at high tide and getting stuck. Furthermore it’s about 250 miles out from the Gravity Falls border.” He made a nasally laugh. “Is the cryptid supposed to have hauled itself overland all the way here? I don’t think so.”

“You’re such a nerd,” she shot back. When he responded with an unimpressed glare she continued. “Corduroy didn’t describe it as a sea monster. ‘Evil spirit’ was the phrase he used.”

“I’m still doubtful.”

“That’s obvious,” she muttered.

“Anyway, do you know how many Devil’s Lakes there are in the US? Wisconsin and North Dakota have their own, and in both of those cases cryptid mythology sprouted up around them. People can be very superstitious, it’s the best explanation, Paz.”

“Native legends have turned out to be true before. Why is this one more suspect? Because you, Mason Pines, like to think you’re the smartest person in the multiverse. I’m going to put some trust in somebody else for once.” She took a few confident steps towards the dark of the forest. “I have to do this. I need to do this.”

“Whatever you think is best,” he said, absent-mindedly writing a note about his stellar observations.

Pacifica rolled her eyes. Even though he was wonderful at perceiving her emotions and calming her down, sometimes he could be delightfully ignorant of the finer details. “Multitasking indeed,” Pacifica muttered with a smile. “Guess I’d better get going then, if I want to get to bed at a reasonable time. You’ll be ok looking after the kids?”

“Sure, no problem. I’ll make sure Merrise doesn’t stay up all night listening to her phone, and Wendy’s already asleep.”

Pacifica’s eyebrow twitched when he used their daughter’s first name. It was irrational, she knew - they’d both agreed on the name. Still, she would need to have a word with her husband about favouring the middle name from now on, if only to avoid confusion with the ‘original Wendy’.

Impulsively she snatched Mason’s hat and put it on her own head, as if claiming Wendy’s legacy for herself. “Hey,” he cried out, “it’s cold out here.”

“Exactly, I need this more than you.” A quick flash of puppy dogs eyes made him sigh and relent.

“Don’t be surprised if I’m frozen stiff on the porch when you get back.”

“You can always go inside if you get cold, drama queen.”

“Touché,” he stole a kiss on her lips. Pacifica lingered a moment, savouring the warm touch, before Mason said, “be safe,” in a serious tone.

“I will,” she replied, equally determined that she would keep the promise. If she didn’t go now she’d never muster up the drive, so switched on a flashlight and left Mason to his work. It didn’t take even a minute for her to lose sight of the light from the town. If she peered up she could just about see a glow over the top of the branches, but at ground level it was as dark as if she was underground.

She got her phone out, but was annoyed when she remembered that her gloves made it impossible to use the touchscreen. Holding one finger between her teeth she removed a glove and swiped the phone open. Checking a simple compass app she started heading towards the rough area Corduroy told her to search in. After picking the direction she put her phone back in her jacket. It was unlikely to be of much use again. Not because of the remoteness of the forest - the satellite grid could penetrate the whole of the valley these days and she’d probably have seen a few flying about if she deigned to crane her neck up - but due to the pockets of weird energy and radiation lingering around. Remnants from all the tears in reality from Ford and McGucket’s portal experiments played havoc with communication signals of all kinds. It was impossible to predict where a pocket of distortion might strike, wandering around the valley in chaotic bands.

Though she was quite familiar with the woods immediately surrounding her home she relied on the flashlight to lead her onwards. She didn’t quite have the innate familiarity for the trails like her husband even after all the years inhabiting the region. As she headed further out from the house the canopy above became thicker, blotting out the sky completely. She’d have no chance of seeing either satellites or Mason’s meteor shower under these leaves.

She exhaled, watching the cloud of breath and stuck her free hand in her pocket to preserve what little body warmth she still possessed. Though the conditions weren’t ideal, in pure darkness, nearing freezing temperature, she moved forwards with a steady pace, not stopping for breaks. She wasn’t averse to hiking, even learning to take some pleasure from the experience over the years. But her husband, now there was a man who had a constant urge for the outdoors. She supposed it was some zeal of the converted. Mason had grown up in an unending urban sprawl, so a virgin forest filled with wonders had awakened some sense of wonder. Combine that with a tendency towards overriding curiosity and you had a born hiker.

Take their trip along the Appalachian Trail a few years prior. They’d started in high spirits, but Pacifica quickly grew tired of sleeping in cold, cramped tents and getting blisters along endless wooded ridges, so dropped out after three weeks. When Mason finally stumbled through the front door a month later, dishevelled but no less enthused to regale her with stories from the endeavour, she could only find it charming. Along with dragging him to their bedroom almost immediately to make up for lost time and indulge in one of her chosen passions instead.

Gravity Falls wasn’t the Appalachian trail. For one thing the valley was too populated to be left as such a pristine wilderness. Then there was the size; one small valley encompassing the entire sweep of weirdness. There were woods surrounding the valley as well, but they paled in comparison, a monotonous unappealing corridor with none of the personality of the valley’s supernatural charms. They lived in the eye of a very strange storm.

Despite the oppressive darkness Pacifica felt no fear of what she might run into. There were endless potential dangers, as she’d been made aware from a young age, but by now it was routine. She knew the places not to tread without the right mystical defences, where the more unfriendly beasts resided. Even the local mundane predators like bears and wolves were skittish and present in low numbers due to competition with the valley’s native creatures. Besides, they were all hibernating. There was always the possibility of a new threat, like this Unshriven she was resolutely charging towards, but she was alert enough not to be caught off guard. Whether that was brave or simply a pathological foolhardiness bred into her from Mason’s countless expeditions remained to be seen. It was almost exciting in a way, to get to be the first in the family to chronicle a new discovery for once.

Pressed against her waist in the inside of her jacket was her personal journal. Its pink cover and golden llama sigil marked it out as unique. Between all those endless journals and Mabel’s scrapbooks the whole family seemed obsessed with keeping records of the past. She herself was much more modest. The Llama journal she’d kept since age 17 was still serving her well, around 80% full. She didn’t write in it all the time, only when she felt particularly passionate about something. There were a few creature or artefact pages, times she’d felt the need to research or document their adventures, but she lacked the same motivation as her husband for research. In the same time she’d used the one journal, he’d filled six of the things and was nearly ready to start on the seventh.

Still moving forward in the inky blackness, her thoughts turned to her job prospects, as it was related to the journal in some ways. Her writing career, which had seemed ideal only a few months before, had run into a brick wall. In the past she had written about the travails of high finance and other shady business techniques she’d picked up over the years. It felt nice to shed some light on those practices and she had a self-assured confidence that meant she’d been able to crank out a number of books in the last year and a half. It was probably something close to ego, a sense that her viewpoint mattered enough that people would read it.

Now she was constantly nitpicking before even penning a single sentence. It was as if her reaction to her upbringing had flipped. First there was the entitlement, but then came the perfectionist need to avoid messing up which crippled her. She put it down to her general malaise, finding herself so often unable to muster the creativity to write or illustrate as she’d planned. She’d wanted to use her journal as a springboard to translate their adventures into a more childish form, aimed towards Merrise and Leah as a way to teach them the family legacy. Who knew if that plan would ever come to fruition.

Before that she’d had her architecture job. That had been perfect at first, allowing her to stretch her creative muscles designing bombastic skyscrapers, as well as paying well without thrusting her into the limelight. The last thing she wanted was to gain notoriety or fame. Unfortunately that job had run aground too, landing her behind a desk, constantly revising designs to the minutest of specifications and juggling appointments and finances far beyond her liking. No, she wouldn’t go back to that. Her dream of writing a book of stories for her children was still something she craved to return to. As soon as her mind unfogged, and the pressures of looking after Leah eased off, then she could continue.

Walking ever onwards the ground began to steepen beneath her feet. Impossibly she sensed the temperature dropping even further. She began to shiver. The skin on her cheeks felt terribly exposed. She pulled her hat down as far as it would go. It was like she’d passed an invisible boundary that told her she was getting close. It must have been the amulet she wore, as she was certain her path had crossed this part of the forest at some point or another. Instinctively she knew the lake lay to the north, that if she continued walking forwards she would eventually rise until hitting the rocky cliffs surrounding the valley. Heading south would take her up the more gradual ridge towards the water tower and the hill above Crash Site Omega, as well as drawing her within sight of the cemetery… and the other place she wasn’t going to think about.

She checked the bone hanging from her neck, but it appeared as dormant as ever. There was not glint to the gemstones, no life in the eyes. It was a dead totem, nothing more. Yet she could detect a difference in the air. Corduroy had said that only by wearing the amulet could she find the monster. It burned at her now that she didn’t know the answer to why. It was doubtful that Corduroy could have told her how it worked but she wished she’d stayed to ask at least a few more follow-up questions.

A tree rustled to her left and she froze in place. It was then she became aware that the forest was completely silent. No sounds of traffic drifting over from the town, no owls hooting in the night sky. Even the chill wind was deathly quiet. Slowly she aimed her flashlight around in a circle, picking out thorny growths clumped together and a few gnarled fallen tree trunks. It wasn’t an appealing locale, but hardly the stuff of nightmares. Perhaps Corduroy had simply overreacted. It would be easy to jump at shadows in this remote corner of wilderness.

Then she saw it and instantly clicked the button to plunge herself into darkness. She took as quiet a breath as she dared then tried to pierce the darkness. There it was, the lurker of Devil’s Lake.

Sitting up on a high branch was a dark mass, perching as if listening out for something. For her. Stepping sideways without ever taking her eyes off the beast, she edged behind a tree trunk. Believing herself to be obscured, she gently tilted her head around the trunk so she could look closer. After all of the grim portents she’d been expecting a let down. But this creature lived up to every word of Manly Dan’s tall tales.

The thing hunched over and squatting on the branch was a hideous, ape-like animal. Though its body was covered in jet-black fur she could make out the shape of ribs beneath its emaciated chest. The ape’s arms were slender, so much so that Pacifica was convinced they must lack bones entirely for them to be so wiry and oddly jointed. The worst part of all was the head. Taken altogether the rest of the creature seemed mundane enough, some joke of a primate out of its natural habitat. But the head…

What she’d taken for lighter coloured fur was in fact an entire skull, with the flesh peeled away leaving nothing behind but strands of ligaments. The edges at the base of the neck were hideously red as the fur tapered away. Unlike the clean, single-toned white skull that hung around her neck the Unshriven’s was a pallid grey, offset by darker patches in an ordered pattern like ritual face paint. With a high forehead ridge and jutting jaw it was unmistakably simian, like an orangutan carcass had rotted in the sun. Two lethal looking tusks stretched down from the top of the jaw. She’d seen ape skulls before in museums but this was beyond anything she’d witnessed before. A sabre-toothed ape?

She slipped back behind the tree. Her mind boggled at the possibilities, simultaneously amazed by the prospect of stumbling onto an entirely novel form of life and terrified to make a move, lest she awaken the creature’s ire. She struggled to conceive whether she could fit it on any kind of evolutionary tree while convinced a magical explanation was more sensible. This wasn’t a naturally occurring organism after all. Mason’s instinct in times like this was always to document everything. This monster could prove her undoing, so any stray detail might mean the difference between life and death.

Peeking around, she realised quite how much detail she was able to make out even without the flashlight. The beast was lit by the pale ghostly light from the stars, visible through a small gap in the canopy. Following the ape’s gaze upwards she saw it was watching the streaks of shooting stars high above. Her husband wasn’t the only captivated amateur astronomer tonight it seemed.

Taking an analytical eye, she saw that the ape’s fur was twisted, with all kinds of detritus clinging to its body. Alongside the blood crowning the neck patches of glistening brown were visible in clumps. Pacifica prayed it was simply mud. The stench that hit her a moment later told her otherwise. She threw her hands up over her mouth and nose. Her eyes began to well up at the awful stink emanating from the ape and she tasted bile at the back of her throat. She nearly cried out.

She had to stay strong, had to discover some facet or weakness she could exploit. A small voice inside her spoke up saying it might be harmless, minding its own business. The sheer wave of abhorrence radiating from the creature persuaded her that was a comforting lie she was trying to tell herself. Pacifica risked a third look. The creature was still unmoved on its perch. Giving a small sigh of relief she could at least be satisfied in knowing that it didn’t know she was here.

The Unshriven’s head snapped towards her with a crack like bones breaking. The hollow sockets bored into her. The creature was intensely angry, murderously twisting into an expression of rage. Pacifica was paralysed by fear, unsure whether to let her fight or flight reflexes take over. The ape pulled its head back to make high-pitched whopping laugh, more like a hyena than an ape. Pacifica had to cover her ears as the war cry increased in volume. The sound abruptly ceased and the ape turned back to ogle her.

She bolted back the way she’d come, down the hill away from the monster. Her legs carried her as fast as they could and she dared not look back for even a second. She could hear the ape pursuing her, leaping from branch to branch and screeching all the while, like nails on a chalkboard. Forgetting the flashlight, she stumbled over the uneven ground and fell on her face.

Rolling onto her back she saw the creature leering at her from high above. It tore off a neighbouring branch and hurled it like a javelin. At the last second she darted to the side. The branch impacted in the ground beside her with the force of a cannonball, exploding the underbrush in a cascade of foliage that covered her in mud and leaves.

She scrambled upright and started sprinting again, knowing that if she hesitated the ape would tear her to pieces. Suddenly all her doubts about Corduroy’s integrity or bravery seemed needlessly petty. She’d be grateful if she survived long enough to apologise for her attitude. She came up short as the ape swung past her, landing on the trail and blocking her path. Its slender arms shot out, bearing stubby yet razor-sharp claws that slashed through the air inches from her nose.

Remembering the flashlight, she switched it on and succeeded in briefly blinding the ape with the glare. Wasting no time to celebrate, she picked a random direction and put as much distance as possible between herself and the Unshriven. It didn’t matter where she ended up, anywhere was better than at the mercy of the elements and this undead abomination. She just needed to get back to town, to civilisation and artificial light, where she could be safe and cocooned.

However her escape would be short-lived. She had to halt in her tracks, turning the flashlight one way and another. In every direction ahead she was confronted by a wall of thick trunks, the pines and firs closed in like ranks of soldiers. She was all turned around. She had no idea where she was relative to anything else in the valley. She could even be running deeper into the woods, away from salvation. “No no no.” She started hyperventilating, swinging the light around frantically and trying to find a way forward. “Crap!”

The ground disappeared from under her feet. For a second she was in free-fall before hitting the slope and sliding down, out of control. She knocked hard against exposed roots, taking a number of hits that made her entire body shudder from the impact before rolling through a thicket. She gave a pained yell as her body finally came to rest at the base of the hill.

The flashlight fell and illuminated a small clearing. All around her a flock of birds were spooked by her sudden arrival and started flapping around. She couldn’t get up, too winded by the fall, so lay there powerlessly watching the birds run circles around her. The mindless creatures each possessed a curved crest, more of an unnatural growth, bursting out of their foreheads. Question Quail, she thought bitterly. Of all the unique and varied inhabitants of the valley she’d gone and run into a group of perhaps the least dignified of the entire bunch. At least they were harmless. She unsteadily rose and shooed the dumb creatures away.

She was questioning how natural selection could have possibly created such a stupid beast, when pain shot up her right arm. She clutched it and saw her jacket had been all torn up where she’d caught herself falling through the last bush. Scratches ran in parallel lines up the skin. Stinging at the touch, she wiped away the blood with her other hand. The injury was still fresh. She collapsed to her knees and stared at the bloody streaks. She blinked a few times uncomprehendingly. Feeling dizzy she turned her other palm over. It was coated in glistening red blood, sticky and hot.

Without thinking, she grabbed a nearby twig, ending in numerous jagged points. Feeling sweat pour down her forehead, she pressed the twig into her skin. Pain erupted from her incisions but she kept going, dragging the crude implement along so it extended the scratches all along her forearm.

Even through all the hurt and suffering came euphoria. She would make new scars, crafting a new tapestry with her skin as the medium. She tore into herself even harder, delirious and fascinated by the blood pouring out of her. She had to mark this body as her own. After so long it would finally be hers again.

The pain finally became too much. Pacifica screamed, a rattling echo. Her hand cramped and she dropped the twig. Whatever had overcome her passed and tears flowed from her eyes. Her arm was burning, with every stray gust of wind exciting the skin and sending new sensations of agony to her brain.

Trembling, she cradled her wounded arm and got to her feet. A few of the Quails were still gathered nearby, curious about her strange behaviour. She wanted to blame the Unshriven for driving her to this state. Instead she dropped her head into her hands and gave a muffled wail. “What am I doing to myself?”

She picked up the flashlight from where she’d dropped it, mindless mechanical action being all she was capable of. She couldn’t even tell what she wanted anymore. Did she want an ideal body with a perfectly shaped hourglass figure and not a single wrinkle? Or was her true desire to have a body that reflected her own journey through life, pockmarked and blemished and uniquely hers? All she knew is that she hated herself more than ever before. Her body was a failure at both her contradictory wishes.

She headbutted the end of the flashlight. “Get a grip Pacifica, now’s not the time.” She could reflect on her little breakdown later. Right now she was alone in a hostile environment, stalked by creatures from the pits of hell. That was the whole point though, wasn’t it. She picked up the Osprey skull with one hand, holding it tight against her palm. She wasn’t a victim, running helpless. The whole reason she was out here was to find and catch this abomination. Running around like a headless quail would only get her killed. She couldn’t let her mind run away with itself again.

Aiming the flashlight back at reality she peered down at the Question Quails with disdain, though this quickly faded to mere frustration. Though she loved the exhilaration and sense of discovery of her adventures, and had indeed been on hundreds, there were times when she wished for a more mundane existence. Sometimes it would be nice to have a life without worrying that her loved ones could be possessed by demons or replaced by clones made of paper. A life without constant danger, where she didn’t have to struggle to relate to her alien daughter. A life where her body wasn’t at risk of being sanded down and smoothed into a plastic imitation of her former self.

Then again, that kind of life could get boring, she thought as she heard a rustle in the leaves up ahead and felt her adrenaline begin to flow. The Unshriven had found her. This time she wasn’t going to let it overwhelm her with primal instincts. Searching around, she picked up a sturdy-looking branch and weighed it in her grip. Happy with it, she lifted it behind her head like a club and waited, listening to the pounding of her heart and the incessant footsteps of the ape padding towards her.

This time she had the advantage. As it approached, Pacifica heard a cacophony of howling and rustling. The Unshriven had fallen right into the same drop as she had. Counting in her head, she anticipated the exact moment the ape would enter the clearing. With all her strength she swung the branch and hit the Unshriven right in the side, sending it flying with a satisfying thud. “Ha, how do you like that!”

The ape fell onto one side and tried to stand up. It was evident that it was more efficient at moving through the trees than on the ground. Its legs were stumpy and underdeveloped. The hosepipe-like arms flailed around for purchase while it screamed at her. Pacifica wasn’t going to give it a chance to get airborne again. She charged towards the creature and took an underhanded swing.

The branch passed straight through the Unshriven. Its furry body flickered and seemed to dissipate like mist. Taken aback, Pacifica didn’t know how to react. That was all the ape needed. While she was dazed it hooked one arm through a branch and flew into the air. After taking one swing the ape disappeared from sight for a second before reappearing on another branch further away.

Pacifica broke into motion, dumping her improvised club. “Oh no you don’t!”

The creature might be dangerous, but it was capable of being hurt. Now was her one chance to take it before she lost the advantage of surprise. In hot pursuit, she left the clearing, sending the Question Quail running for cover one last time. Ahead of her the Unshriven was desperately diving between the trees, occasionally flitting through the air like an insubstantial wisp.

Though they were nowhere near the town, Pacifica saw a wooden fence with light coming from behind it. The ape grabbed onto the top of the fence and catapulted into the air with a single bound. Pacifica threw one leg over the wooden obstacle and hauled herself over. She dropped down on the other side, expecting a solid landing. Instead she kept going, continuing to fall into a watery pit. She instantly reacted with shock, her limbs grasping out wildly for some support. Water pricked against her skin. She blew bubbles out of her nose and mouth, and kicked out for the surface. The pool was in constant turmoil, thrumming and hot.

She burst out into the cold air and floundered, finding a firm edge. Blinking through the water covering her eyes, she hauled herself up and over the lip, falling onto her back on a grassy lawn. Stars shone high above. The creature was gone. She breathed in and out, eyes closed, heart racing, and soaked through to the bone.

“Pacifica?”

Her eyes snapped open and travelled upwards. Past toes sticking out of flip-flops, snaking up skinny legs to a cherry red bikini and a mop of brown hair. Carrying a towel over her shoulder was Mabel Pines. “Yo,” she said with a puzzled expression. “I guess this can be an early housewarming get-together. You kinda dropped in unannounced.”

Pacifica turned her head to one side and saw Mabel’s wife, Zera, standing impatiently, similarly dressed for the water in a black one-piece. She lolled her head to the other side. The pool she’d fallen into was a freestanding wooden hot-tub, surrounded by lamps and casually chugging away. “I didn’t know you’d moved into a new place,” she said breathlessly.

“Last week actually. Are you ok?” Mabel asked with a not unreasonable level of concern.

“Yeah,” Pacifica said through short breaths. “I’m fine.”

“Is that blood?” Her sister-in-law’s eyes widened at the sight of her arm. She had splotches of deep red splattered around the cuts.

“It’s a long story,” Pacifica stated flatly, sitting upright. “You got any bandages or disinfectant?”

Mabel jabbed a finger towards the house. “Inside. We were actually about to go for a little soak in the hot-tub. You wanna join us?”

Pacifica stuck out her bottom lip. She looked back over the fence at the gloom of the surrounding woods, then to the invitingly well-lit water. “Sure. Why not? After what I’ve been through I’ll accept any invitation to take a load off.”

#pacifica northwest #gravity falls #dipper pines #gravity falls fanfic #Warning: self-harm

3 notes · View notes