Chapter Text
On May 3rd, 2017, the cracks appeared in the sky.
They were thin lines that fractured and splintered along the pale blue of spring mornings, teasing sparkles of other dimensions that defied scientific reasoning and - understandably - caused something of a panic within the human race. Every governing body convened with startling immediacy. Scientists desperately studied what they could, using a perfectly cerebral calmness to retain whatever positivity remained. For a majority of the populace, it was a rather different story.
People, generally, were used to waking up to an unmarred sky. Finding oneself trapped in what appeared to be an inverse eggshell was a little beyond human rationalisation.
Calls flooded into every source of perceived authority. Fox News was inundated with correspondence at the same intensity as the White House itself, which said a lot about the variety of people who wanted answers.
Religions made a vast number of claims. Some groups tried to ‘pray the cracks away’, resulting in nothing but frustration. A similar number were absolutely delighted with what they believed to be the imminent apocalypse, or judgement day, and gleefully supplied the world with as many horror stories as they possibly could. Their shiny moral towers didn’t last all that long given what the event actually was, but for a while they could enjoy their hypocrisy in the genuine belief that they were going to finally gain their reward. The collection of good religious people was (while much, much larger) almost unnoticeable - they offered their care in the typical understated manner of the selfless.
They survived very well, in the end.
Those without any faith followed similar patterns in their approach to the new feature of the world. Some blamed it on global warming. It could easily have been argued that this was technically not wrong , as it could have been a catalyst, but nobody really got the chance to ask. Others simply accepted that the world was going to shit and tried their level best to enjoy the days that they had left.
All in all, it was very human, and after a week without any further repercussions to the fractured sky, no less than twelve celebrities were either making clothes lines or trying to paint it as an astonishing promotional stunt.
24-hour footage of the sky in different countries was broadcasted on 3 dedicated channels.
It all seemed to be going rather well, until somebody new appeared, and the tables weren’t so much turned as burned into piles of unrecognisable ash.
It was May 11th, and New York was in uproar.
Reports flooded in of a boy, almost a man, standing atop the Empire State Building wearing (what appeared to be) a very fine suit. Naturally, the details varied - some commented on his short stature, others the disturbing youth of his features - yet they all agreed that his eyes were… strange. Eventually they agreed that his hair was brown, and a semi-famous Big Brother winner decided that the trespasser was only a 6 out of 10.
“WHAT WE WANT TO KNOW IS -” a shouty broadcaster gesticulated almost comically at the building, the sky, and a random passers-by, “ - HOW HE GOT UP THERE WITHOUT ANYBODY NOTICING! WHO IS THIS KID? COULD THIS HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH THE SUDDEN CHANGE ON OUR LITTLE PLANET? MORE AT 4!”
Swinging his legs over the side, Pine Tree smoothed out an already creaseless suit and smirked into the wind battering his face. The entirety of New York sprawled below him, eyes trained on his every move if they weren’t watching the fractured skies. He’d never really been one for attention before, but now it was nigh addictive. He loved the feeling of being somebody to be feared, somebody that could be respected... Sensing a presence nearby, the teen looked to the side and found a demon similarly sat on the precipice of one of the world’s biggest landmarks.
“Bill.” Grinning visibly, the boy reached for a small black hand, and threaded his fingers with the demon’s. “Isn’t it just beautiful?”
The demon’s cat eye flickered up to the tensing void above and cackled mildly. “It sure is, Pine Tree. Better than I’d hoped. The prophecy never really gave much detail, but hey, it sure fits my aesthetic.”
Pine Tree frowned. “I thought your aesthetic was the unnamed horrorterrors this week?”
“Not anymore, PT. Now it’s the motherfucking apocalypse. Besides which, for somebody who declared their lifelong aesthetic to be ‘ironic Windows Vista’, you sure are stingy.”
“Ugh, it hardly matters. How long until the next phase kicks in, do you think?”
“I’d give it a day. Maybe less. Humanity’s gonna get a real kick in the face, I tell you what!” Bill rubbed his hands together, cackling to himself.
“Good thing I’m not human, then,” Pine Tree hummed, body flickering between ages for a moment before resettling. “Being a shade is far more enjoyable. Still haven’t settled in though…” He looked to the demon, brow furrowed in worry. “Is it supposed to take this long?”
Bill waved his hand. “Eh. It can be a slow process, but yeah, you are a pretty tempestuous , PT. If it doesn’t improve with the next phase, then we have a problem.”
“Mmm.” The shade quirked his head at the ground, flashing another shark grin. “They’re finally getting the police! It’s only taken them an hour.”
“An hour?”
“Well, they gathered around and gawked for a bit - I mean, it took twenty minutes for anyone to even notice in the first place - and then the news teams did jack shit besides send two helicopters and a lot of obnoxious reporters… oh, look!”
One of the cracks in the sky had opened slightly, revealing the foul darkness on the other side. Screams began to rise from the assembled crowds below, and a team of police and firefighters were streaming into the building. The shade stood, brushing down his front. “Looks like it’s time to get going, hm? Are we going through with the dramatic exit, or…?”
“Go for it, Pine Tree. Get all the media coverage you can.” Slowly slipping away, the demon giggled. “Let them know that they’re fucked, kid.”
Nodding, the shade stood and stretched up to the sky, rolling his shoulders. The rifts in the sky rumbled ominously.
The screams increased.
Twisting on his heel, Pine Tree felt himself slip from the side of the building, falling with grace from his high perch. Face to the skies, he laughed at the sensation of the wind whipping at his clothing and the cacophony below - it seemed that jumping off the Empire State made people a little scared. The splinters in the sky reflected in his golden irises.
From the perspective of those below, the boy had simply given up and thrown himself off. Oddly picturesque, he flew through the air - to certain death.
Only to disappear just before hitting the ground.
***
Mabel Pines was watching the news when it properly began.
Her brother was perched atop one of the tallest buildings of the world as though it were nothing, under the gaze of every single news channel in the world. Only one proper image of his face was available - a youthful, callous thing, with the telltale golden irises that made her heart skip and jump into her throat. The helicopter shot was poorly angled, as was to be expected, but there was no doubt that it was him.
Biting into her sandwich, Mabel checked her school twitter feed, one eye on the news. Still shut. Good. Even after a year without Dipper beside her in her classes, high school was confusing and saddening to a painful degree. It was the one good thing that came out of the impending apocalypse - almost everything was shut down, save for research facilities and public services. For once, capitalism had bent to the needs of humanity.
Mabel had been anticipating the sudden changes, of course. Forewarned by Pine Tree (not Dipper, she had to remind herself), it had reached the point where fear had nearly turned to anticipation. Stanley had plied her for as much information as possible when she finally told him that her brother was alive … in some sense… and she had suddenly found that the concept of having the shade around more was dangerously enticing. Sure, it meant that the world was going to end, but you had to make concessions when it came to the supernatural. They could stop it. No sweat.
At least, that was what Ford had stuttered into the phone a few nights before.
“W-well,” he mumbled, the sounds of Stan in the background. “I-it’s not the kind of apocalypse I w-was expecting, b-but Bill obviously took a slightly more underst-tated path. N-nothing I can’t fix.”
“I know that, Grunkle. Uh, are you okay, though? You sound a bit…”
“F-fine! Just the withdrawal again. It-t should calm down soon.”
When Mabel put the phone down again, she could hardly handle the guilt.
Ford did not know that Dipper was alive. Or rather, that he had come back as something else. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him; in the end, both she and Stan had decided that it would be better for the great uncle to try and overcome his alcoholism without that extra layer of stress. He’d gotten used to the idea of Dipper being dead. So had Mabel, in all honesty, and trying to rewire her brain had proved so insanely lengthy a procedure that she’d not wished that upon her suffering family.
Now there was no hiding it, she supposed. The phone was sat near to the couch, almost threateningly close. It had to ring soon. And then there would be too many questions to answer.
Done with her lunch, she grabbed her knitting needles and continued her most recent project. It was (unsurprisingly) another jumper, in the telltale blue and white of the old pine tree cap, if only because they were nice colours.
“We have new reports coming in that the boy has jumped from the building! After conversing with an unknown being - people are calling it a yellow triangle - they turned their heel and fell! Wait - hang on - even more unbelievably, an entire crowd of witnesses are claiming that he disappeared before hitting the ground! What an incredible event!”
Mabel hummed, mother and father becoming audible as they entered from the front door. “Hey there, Mabel sweetie! We got pomegranates!”
“Thanks Mom!” She knit another row.
“Questions are being asked as to whether this is connected with the rifts, and indeed whether we should be preparing to meet our maker! Twitter has exploded with theories under the name #Skygate, with some postulating that this is the work of the fabled ‘Illuminati’, a new world order which wishes to renew the planet. Indeed, links have been made between famous singer-songwriter Beyonce and the new state of affairs.”
“Jesus christ.” Mabel switched the channel to serious coverage, rolling her eyes. The number of theories and potential causes of the apocalypse was exploding - people had pointed fingers at the government, unknown aliens, 4chan ( their response was to blame Tumblr), and now Beyonce, apparently.
Marie Pines wandered in, taking a seat and sipping gently at a coffee. “Heya honey. Enjoying your time off?”
“Well, as much as one can with the world falling apart.”
“Yeah… a man offered me a flyer as we were loading the car, another one about joining that ‘vengeful alien’ cult. Your Dad is thinking of making a collage piece with them, we have loads now. I especially like the one from that evangelical group, with all the fire? Very striking.”
“Mom, like, half of our family is Jewish.”
“I know, but…” she sighed into her drink. “I always enjoyed a bit of fire and brimstone. The fundamentalists really go all out.”
Tom, glasses perched on the end of his nose, almost walked into the doorframe, holding said flyer and a huge pile of similarly vibrantly coloured card. “You know, if we cut out the flames from the Christian ones, and then use them as a backdrop, we could probably make a hellscape…” He peered up at his wife and daughter, grinning. “Hey. I’m being a genius.” He riffled through the stack and pulled one out, throwing it at Mabel. “For you, honey.”
The front read ‘SINNERS WILL BE ANNIHILATED!’, in what appeared to be comic sans. A tiny stock photo devil waved a pitchfork threateningly. “Gee. Thanks Dad, I’ll treasure it forever.”
“Turn up the TV, I want to see what’s going on.” He fell down next to Marie. “There were a lot of people looking at their phones at the store, so I assume there’s been a wild event.”
Nervously, Mabel turned up the sound, nibbling at her lip. The picture of Dipper was sure to turn up at some point, and… well, she didn’t know what would happen. Generally, the memory gun’s effects had proven to be semi-permanent. With enough of a reminder, there was no reason that her parents couldn’t have everything come flooding back to them.
“- increased size of the rifts seems to only be exacerbating the fear of the people, some claiming that the cracks are due to merely continue growing. The incident in New York a few minutes ago has already been linked to this, with leading scientists incapable of explaining the apparently ‘golden’ eyes of the boy, nor how he was able to climb such a structure and then disappear after what should have been a suicidal jump.”
Welp. This was it. New footage - a video this time - captured Pine Tree’s face clearly. Mabel looked through the curtain of her hair at her parents, both of whom were visibly confused.
“At this time, the identity of this man is unknown, lacking any records. One or two people have come forward to name him as one ‘Dipper Pines’, although this is yet to be verified.”
“D-Dipper Pines?”
Marie had dropped her (thankfully empty) mug, one hand going to her mouth. She was trembling. “But… that’s our… surname... “ She clutched at her head, staring at her daughter. There was a pregnant pause.
Mabel looked away.
Marie grabbed her husband’s arm. “T-that’s… that’s my son !” she whispered. “That’s our son!”
Tom’s eyes suddenly sparked with the same recognition. “Fuck. Dipper is our son. He’s our son! Our - what happened - why is he up there?! I’ve not seen him in… since that summer...”
Two sets of very confused eyes settled decidedly on Mabel. “Aha,” she muttered, a weak attempt at laughter. “Uh. This is not the way I wanted this to happen. Yeah, uhm.” She turned off the news, one last glimpse of golden eyes peering into the room. “I have a lot to explain, don’t I?”
“Y-you could say that,” Tom whimpered, also nursing a sudden migraine. “But first, painkillers. Hold on sweetie, I’ll get us some water -” He disappeared into the kitchen.
They sat in an awkward silence, and the teen rather wished she had left the news on. Marie fiddled with her wedding ring. “So, uhm.” Mabel broke the atmosphere bravely. “What are you remembering?”
“I don’t even know. It’s like there’s a dam inside my head that’s splintering.” Her mother smiled faintly. “I know I have a son. His name is Owen Pines, or Dipper Pines, and he is a lot like me. Other than that…” she frowned. “The specifics are vague. Oh! Something about journals. And… medication.”
Tom returned with a pair of identical glasses, popping two white pills into his wife’s palm. They took them quickly, and then leaned in, obviously eager to know what they had missed.
“I’m -” Mabel winced. “I’m not sure how to tell you this, to be honest.”
“It’s okay, Mabs. I mean, my head’s already exploded, so whatever it is…” Tom reached for her arm, smiling gently. “It’s okay.”
“But it’s not okay! It never will be. I - Dipper killed people, Dad!” Both Marie and Tom stalled, staring. “He… he killed a lot of people. It… I… That sounds bad on its own. B-basically, Gravity Falls is full of supernatural malarkey. What we would talk about when we came home was all true. Monsters and fairies and… giant portals to other dimensions. Unbelievable stuff. But the most powerful being we ever came across was this dream demon, called Bill Cipher.”
Tom squinted. “I’m getting a bad feeling about this.”
“You do right,” Mabel replied. “We hadn’t heard from him in years. He possessed Dipper when we were twelve - long story - and we had this crazy fight in Stan’s mind, but like, beyond that, we never saw him. I figured he’d gotten bored and found somebody else to terrorise. But then when we were 15, he kind of recruited Dipper, I think? I wasn’t there. From what I can remember, he was either gonna take his body or force him to spend the summer doing his dirty work. Of course, Dipper chose the latter.”
Nodding, Marie nibbled at her lip, looking for all the world like a concerned child.
“He changed. What with his depression and mood swings, we didn’t really notice it that much, but then he kept disappearing into the forest every day. He was having these weird dreams and saying incriminating stuff in his sleep, until we all got so concerned that we had a meeting - sans Dipper. We kind of worked out that it was Bill who was doing it. We confronted Dip about it and he,” she sniffled. “He freaked out. Had a massive anxiety attack. I sat by his bed for hours and he looked the same as always, just really really tired.”
“Ford was going to put a metal plate in his head, to keep the demon out, but then - then Dip cast this weird spell on us and took away all of our memories. They only returned at the end of the summer. Anyway, then we went on a trip, and he made up this fake boyfriend to cover up his tracks… it’s all a bit vague. Until the day that all the people died.”
Sitting up slightly, Marie tilted her head. “Do you mean that gas explosion a few years back? I remember that, it was on the news.”
“Yeah! Except it wasn’t a gas explosion, it was a spell. We wanted to find out who had done it, because it killed so many people, including Grunkle Stan’s girlfriend. They built this whole machine to summon the killer and hopefully bring them to justice.” For a second, Mabel was thrown back to that day, remembering the sight of her brother rising from the summoning circle, bathed in unnatural light. It had been eerily beautiful to her eyes, even as her heart seemed to collapse in her chest. “We caught him again. He gave his soul to the demon. H-he was insane, pretty much. We had no choice but to report him.”
“The whole town went crazy with it. He was getting attacked almost daily - some people claimed that they’d killed him. They set traps, baited him into corners. Eventually…” she weighed up the safety of honesty. “Eventually he died. Now he’s a ‘shade’. They’re like, the servants of demons. I wish I could’ve told you sooner, but we had to wipe everybody’s memories, to protect them.”
Marie was crying, silently, behind her palm. Guilt streaked up Mabel’s side - her mother probably hadn’t expected to be losing a son today, a son that she’d been made to forget. Tom held his wife close and narrowed his eyes, similarly reddened. “That… there must be more to it than that. Right? H-how did he…”
“I’m not sure you want to know,” she whispered. The sight of her brother with a bullet wound through his head flashed in her mind and she trembled slightly. “Like. I wish I could forget.”
“You were there?” He sounded even more concerned now. “Okay. You don’t have to, but please, please tell us, honey. So we can help you. Oh god, this explains so much…”
“It was, uh. A few weeks after he left. We had a plan to summon the demon and then… well, I thought we were going to save him. Ford shot him instead. T-through the head. I wasn’t - I wasn’t there at that exact point, b-but I did see h-him.”
“Stanford.” Marie was staring. “Stanford Pines. As in, the intelligent one, the one who Dipper didn’t shut up about for a good year?”
“Yeah.”
“He killed Dipper?”
“...Yeah.”
Deflated, Marie sunk into her husband’s arms. “I’m so sorry you had to be a part of that, honey. I just… I can’t believe it. Stanford just doesn’t seem the kind of person to go through with that.”
“Don’t blame him too deeply, Mom.” Mabel sank into the couch again, reaching for the remote with a definite wash of relief. “He was trying to stop whatever is going on with the world now. It was a tough decision, but he had to make it.” She hummed. The news was now plastered with the faces of scientists. “I just wish he hadn’t lied.”
They settled down in companionable quiet for a while, watching the televised debates and occasionally chipping in. It seemed that the elder pair were slowly cooling down; both faces softened and calmed as they processed what their daughter had told them. They were doing surprisingly well considering the gravity of the situation… then again, after having been parted from their son for so long, it probably felt a long way away. It did to Mabel, at times.
The phone rang.
“I’ll get it,” Mabel mumbled, reaching out before either of her parents could. As she expected, the crackling quality of the Mystery Shack landline was what met her ears. What she did not anticipate, however, was the pure volume.
“HELLO, MABEL? MABEL?” Ford sounded frantic.
“Yes, it’s me. What’s wrong?” She carefully shielded the phone from her parents, who were watching nervously.
“HE’S ALIVE MABEL! HE- DIPPER’S ALIVE! I-I CAN’T BELIEVE IT, I, I DIDN’T THINK IT COULD BE POSSIBLE! I JUST TURNED ON THE NEWS AND HE… MABEL?”
“Yes, Grunkle Ford?”
“Y-you don’t… you aren’t saying anything?” He sounded painfully downtrodden. “Don’t you understand? Your brother’s alive! We can get him back, I didn’t kill him, Dipper -”
“That’s not Dipper,” she interjected, wincing. “I’m sorry. I already knew he was alive, Grunkle Ford. He visited me a little while ago. He’s not a human. He’s Pine Tree now. I’m, I’m really sorry, I meant to tell you when you were better -”
There was a burst of static and she swore, briefly moving the phone away from her ear. When she put it back, he was mid-sentence. “ - can’t believe you’d keep this from me. Did you tell Stanley? He didn’t seem particularly surprised either, just walked away- ”
“Yes, I told Stan.” Ford was about to vent furiously when she hissed down the line and effectively silenced him. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare shout at me for hiding this. You have been a mess , Grunkle Ford, and you’re only just getting better. Do not try to tell me that you would have been able to cope with the news that he was alive, nevermind that that fucking prophecy of yours was going to come true. We made a joint decision to protect you, okay? Neither of us liked it, but then neither of us liked watching you drink yourself into a stupor every night.” Mabel found that she was crying, and swiped the tears away angrily. “So I’m sorry, okay? Can we move past this before it becomes an issue and get on with stopping the apocalypse?”
Ford did not reply immediately. When he did, his voice was thick. “Yes, Mabel, we can do that. I don’t… appreciate not being told, but then I’m sure you didn’t appreciate being lied to that summer. So it’s fine. H-he’s not human, did you say?”
“A shade,” she mumbled, twisting the phone cord. He groaned heavily. “Yeah, I know. It’s weird. He talked to me last summer, and apparently he was a ‘newborn’, so I don’t think he’s that used to it yet.”
“Okay… ugh. That makes everything far more complicated. What about his old body?”
She giggled faintly. “You do not wanna know.”
“Damn, okay. What about your parents? The townsfolk have begun to remember, unfortunately. Stan’s been fending them off for the past hour, although I think we’re just going to have to tell them the truth.”
Mabel cast a glance at her Mom and Dad, who were either listening unabashedly (Marie) or on their aging smartphone, taking pictures of the flyers (Tom). “Yeah, they’re remembering things. It’s a bit slow but I filled them in on that summer.”
“How,” Ford sounded terrified. “How angry are they?”
“Surprisingly chill, actually, although I think they’re holding back a bit.” Marie mouthed a definite ‘ we can hear you, you know’ and Mabel nodded in response. “They’re like, a metre away.”
“A-ah. Maybe that’s a discussion for another day.”
“Hah. Maybe.” She hummed. “How is the cold turkey cookin’?”
“It’s unpleasant, but I expected as much. It’s doing okay. Better than the past few attempts - I think I’m really getting it this time!” He smiled; Mabel could hear it. “By the time you next see me, I’ll be on the road to recovery.”
“That’s great. And we’ll have stopped the apocalypse too, hopefully.”
“Don’t even worry about that,” he replied; Stan began talking in the background. “I have a few plans already. We’ll sort it out. Hopefully… hopefully we can get him back in the process. Shade or not, I reckon we can save your brother. Stanley wants to talk to you. I’ll hand it over.”
“Bye, Grunkle Ford. Keep fighting it!”
“Bye, sweetie. I will do.”
There was a fumbling of hands, a quick exchange of words, and then Grunkle Stan’s voice was on the line, barking in her ear. “Heya glitter pumpkin, how you doin’?”
She giggled helplessly. “I’m… I’m okay. I mean. I guess it’s time now, isn’t it? What we were waiting for.”
“Yeah, ‘spose it is. I’m as prepared as I can be.” He fell silent. “It was odd, seein’ him -”
“- on TV. I know, right? Like he’d never… died in the first place. I think Bill was there too, actually, I turned it off before I could hear any more. Parents.”
“Remembered?”
“Yuhuh. Apparently the town is, too?”
Stan croaked something of a laugh, suddenly sounding very tired. “You don’t know the half of it, kid. The door’s been swingin’ on its hinges. Your Northwest seems to be directing them to us. Cutebiker was the first, as you’d expect, but I must’ve seen everybody in town since. I think Sixer’s working on some kind of official statement to give ‘em, but hell, they are not happy. Dunno what I could do to make them feel better.”
“Just be yourself, Grunkle Stan. You’ll make sure that it’s all okay. I believe in you.”
“Well, shucks kid, that’s nice of you to say. Not sure I believe ya but… I’ll definitely try.” He’d softened audibly. “I’ve also been told to say hallo from Soos, he misses ya.”
“Oh yeah! How is Portland?” Looking over, Mabel found that the lounge had been mysteriously vacated, parents tearing apart one of the rooms upstairs. “I never saw him as the Portland type, but I mean, he’s good anywhere so long as it’s with Melody…”
“Really good. Got his own tourist business thriving. Not for much longer if we don’t sort this out, of course. We -”
“-really should get onto that.” Mabel sighed. “I’ll be in contact. If anything big happens, then we go through with the plan.”
“Do ya think they’ll agree to it?”
“They have no choice,” she announced. “Now, I need some serious Mabel Juice. Talk to you soon, Grunkle Stan!”
“Bye honey. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Finally, Mabel dropped the phone back into its holder, smiling faintly. Family. How she loved them. Even Ford, after everything that had happened, was back in her good books.
Intending to produce her horrifying concoctions in the kitchen, Mabel passed by the stairs, peering curiously at the shadows cast at the top of the stairs. Her parents were in her room. Why…? Padding up the steps silently, she peered around the door, to find her mother sat demurely on the bed as her father dug through a box of photographs. Occasionally, he would place a few on the floor next to him; she would pick them up, looking through the stack and chewing at her lip emotionlessly.
“See, he’s in this one, too -” she whispered, blinking at a polaroid. “But I distinctly remember it being a nature shot.”
“Same with these.” Tom pushed a few more towards his wife, hitching his glasses up with one finger. “So, what’s happened to them?”
“Uh.” Mabel cleared her throat loudly, making her parents jump and look over guiltily. “What exactly are you doing?”
“We just wanted to check and see if there was any evidence of your… brother.” Marie found the word to be oddly foreign, barely willing to roll off the tongue. “And you have all these photographs. He seems to be in most of them.”
“What? But Bill -” Mabel grabbed the nearest picture.
Dipper, wearing his trucker cap, was grinning in front of a zoo exhibit, arm slung easily over his twin’s shoulder. Behind them, a lion was stalking through the long grasses. Sunlight dappled the lens and warmed their faces. She could distinctly remember the moment, the feeling of a chilled ice cream cone in her hand, the growling from behind and the weight of an arm over her body. Another photograph. He looked a lot more tired in this one, having just started his medication. A small smile remained. Dipper was alone in the shot, sat on a dilapidated bench, sun setting in the background. Trees framed the sides.
Breath hitching, Mabel looked into the box. There were hundreds of them. Brown eyes stared up into her own.
“He’s back.” She didn’t know whether she wanted to laugh or to cry. “He’s back for good.”
***
A group of teenagers were stood on the bridge in Gravity Falls.
They were the necessary successors of Wendy’s gang - they had since gone to college, even Wendy herself - and the ‘teenage stupidity’ gap needed to be filled. As such, a new teenage clique had arisen to claim their fame, running havoc in a homage to the golden years that had just passed. A majority of the town had merely been relieved that they weren’t the complete hellraisers that the old group had been.
“C’mon, losers, get over here.”
A girl, hair multicoloured and curiously cut, led the others along the rickety bridge, eventually pausing to sit down and dangle her legs over the side. “Are you gonna sit down, or what? Come on Angelo, show these chickens how to be cool.”
Angelo, a short and tanned individual, shrugged and joined their friend. “Your wish is my command, Lady Evel een .” They bowed mockingly.
“It’s Eve lyn. Quit being a wad. Besides which, name calling is reserved for Egg.”
“I do wish you’d stop calling me that.” James (dubbed Egg due to his unfortunate head shape), grouched and sat cross legged across a few of the wooden boards.
“No chance.” Another girl, hair twitching, maneuvered around James and sat beside the other two, gesturing for the boy to join. He sighed, rolled his eyes, and gave in, daring to smile faintly. “The gang’s all here!” She crooned, wrapping her arms around Angelo (who none too discreetly removed them). “Now what?”
“We chill?” Evelyn was in serious danger of losing a shoe to the depths below. “Unless anybody else has anything planned.”
“Just chill at the edge of a dangerous precipice,” James grumbled. “That’s not stupid at all. You gotta agree with me on this one, Luce.”
“Shut up, Egg.” Lucy pulled out a journal from a worn satchel, clicking her pen eagerly. Her gaze roved along the skyline. “Now, what to write about…”
“Well, the world is still going to fuck.” Checking her phone, Evelyn sniffed grumpily. “You could write about that.”
“Or about the fact that the bastard that killed my parents is still at large.”
The group stilled as Angelo rested their head in their hands, staring down. “Sorry. Not the time, but - ugh .”
“No, no, we understand.” Lucy snapped the book shut and rubbed her friend’s back. “I’d be angry too. You can vent whenever you want, we told you that.”
“Yeah, anytime.” Evelyn nodded encouragingly.
“It’s nothing. Honestly, guys, I’m just having one of my moments. Thinking how lucky it is that I was on holiday at the time. And now with everyone remembering this - this Dipper Pines , or whatever the fuck he’s called, it’s bringing it all back.”
Discomforted, Lucy attempted a considerate hum. She’d known the monster boy as a kid, seen him running about town during the summer months, fending off the bizarre supernatural beings that plagued them. He’d seemed perfectly nice. A bit out there, but then anybody with that kind of lifestyle would have to be. It still didn’t make sense to her that somebody so seemingly altruistic could have done a violent u-turn of that magnitude.
“Well, I dunno how you do it, bud. I sure as hell couldn’t.” Bumbling, James threw in his own offer of help.
“Thanks dude. It’s fine, really.” Angelo shuffled back and stood, wandering part way down the bridge, scanning the floor.
“What’re they doing?” Evelyn whispered, and the others shrugged.
It took a few minutes, but they finally bent down and picked up something from the worn boards. Walking over, they grinned and displayed a large, smooth stone. “Jackpot.” They twisted to face the largest rift in the sky - it resembled an ‘X’, and was a bit more threatening that the smaller fractures. “Take this, you bastard!” They lobbed the stone with impressive force, watching it sail some distance through the air before plunging down to the depths below.
Lucy’s lip twitched. “Don’t throw stuff at it, Ange, you’ll exacerbate the crack.”
There was a second of serious silence.
The entire group burst into wild laughter, Angelo almost falling off the bridge. “Exacerbate the crack,” they howled, wiping tears from their eyes. “You’re the best, Luce. Thanks, that made me feel a lot better.”
There was a rumble.
“Uh, I didn’t mean that literally,” Lucy mumbled, trying to be funny but failing miserably as the group stilled in panic. Echoing, the rumble continued, picking up in volume. “Shit. We should go, something’s -”
The X in the sky suddenly began to grow, lovecraftian darkness spilling out, before shifting to a sudden explosion of colour. Twisting whorls of unimaginable golds, greens, reds and blue became visible as the tear opened up. Several tentacles - were they tentacles? - burst through and licked at the sky, faded blue slowly bleeding orange.
“Oh fuck .” Evelyn whispered, grabbing Lucy’s hand. “They were totally right. I wrote it off as a conspiracy theory -”
“You wrote the apocalypse off as a conspiracy theory -?”
“Well, my Mom refused to believe it.” Pelting along the bridge, the group watched as a small figure burst through from the rift, grating laughter echoing through the gorge and across the town. “Dunno why I sided with her on this rather than something sensible.”
“None of us want to believe it, so we deny it. Typical stage of grief.” James’ moment of intelligent reasoning was lost as a tentacle dared to rip up the structure behind them, prompting a collection of screams as they barely made it to safety, tripping over one another in the rush to survive. The laughter increased.
Coughing up their fear, Angelo sighed. “Right. We need to go to the Mystery Shack.The twins who run it will know what to do.”
“Aren’t they the relatives of… you know who?” Lucy was bemused. “I didn’t think you’d want to be around that place.”
“It’s a necessary evil,” they countered. “Besides which, I’ve visited before. One of them’s quite nice. The other just disappeared to run tests on something. Either way, they’re our best chance for safety.”
All four of them pulled out their phones, dialling the numbers for their remaining loved ones, and made for the best protected place in Gravity Falls.
***
Hello! Welcome to Skyscratch radio - a new radio series devoted to reporting on the apparent apocalypse. This is being broadcast from a safe location, and I, Brook Howarth, will be providing round-the-clock coverage of the news worldwide! Just tune in to 106.6 FM for your essentials to surviving the end times! Up soon: Bear Grylls, and the best way to ration supplies, followed by an interview with an eye-witness from New York! Stay tuned!