Archive of Our Own

—> Rethink your life choices,

Summer break is, for all intents and purposes, a time for relaxation. Whether it’s the leisure of a fine Sunday barbecue, or the colorful excitement of celebratory fireworks, one can be sure that all will be taking it easy.

That is unless you happen to be you.

Which sadly, you are.

One might wonder how you ended up here. Actually, scratch that, you are currently finding yourself actively regretting what you did to end up here in this situation. All that being said, your name is JANE CROCKER, and the boy to your right (the one about to puke) is your brother, JAKE CROCKER. Most onlookers might wonder what you two are doing in a golf cart, suspended midair, fleeing from a creature of unimaginable horrors and/or terrors, respectively. Well rest assured, like all things, there is a completely logical explanation for this.

Now let’s go back a bit, shall we?

—> Days in the past but not many,

It all began when it was decided that you and your brother were in need of some fresh air. Something to help you get out of the house as well as away from all the assassination attempts. With nothing but a bag of luggage and a swipe of sunscreen on your nose, you were both shipped down to a sleepy Oregon town by the name of GRAVITY FALLS, what will you do?

—> Settle yourself in.

Well that’s obvious, you’ve got to set up your sleeping arrangements. Your brother Jake seems to be taking this impromptu holiday rather well, or at least better than you are seeing as he has already begun the settling in process. That is if you define “settling in” as plastering about a zillion movie posters onto his side of the room’s wall.

You’re trying not to feel too much discomfort at the sheer amount of blue and attractive movie personalities when your brother turns himself back to you.

“Golly,” he exclaims, as if he were in an abandoned jungle island mansion and not in some old, probably rotting, cabin in the middle of nowhere’s-ville.

“This attic is amazing, do you think it could be haunted, or built on some sort of ancient burial ground, or maybe something equally appealing to anyone in search of a good adventure?”

Of course that’s all he’s thinking about, how much of an “adventure” this whole experience would be. Being the more practical twin between the two of you, you deftly respond with, “Jake, I don’t think that- why is there a pony on my bed?”

There is a pretty white pony standing directly atop your sleeping arrangements, and in your shock you take note of the heart on its flank that has clearly been poorly drawn on. Just as you were about to kindly push it aside, it hops right off and nudges your brother in the arm and torso.

“Well hello there chap,” he’s grinning like there isn’t an actual wild animal in your room, “yes you may continue to chew on my shirt sleeve, no I do not mind one bit,” he says, already giggling up a storm.

You make the mental note to clean your bedsheets, as well as to tell him to clean the horse spit out of his shirt.

You guess it can’t really be helped though, seeing as Jake has always looked on the more HOPEFUL side of things. It’s not unlike you to have trouble adjusting to uncomfortable or unfavorable circumstances.

Not to say that you can’t adapt for the LIFE of you per se, you’d just rather have a choice in the matter really.

Of course things would be much easier if there were more responsible adults about. Everyone in this town seems almost suspiciously off, and while it’s none of your business you can’t help but get the sense that they might not be the brightest bulbs. Your great uncle, or excuse me, “Pop pop” as Jake has taken to calling him, is a notorious prankster, as well as a bit of a showman. His name is JOHN EGBERT, and he is well known amongst all the town as a regular funny man, and a real stand up guy.

Though you’ll admit it’s hard to think of him like that when he’s snuck up on you, brandishing a pie in hand and a pair of Groucho Marx glasses atop his aging face. As you peel the whipped cream and pastry residue off of your own youthful complexion he slaps his knee, acting as though this is the funniest thing since stand up.

It should be mentioned that this is the man who will be taking care of you and your brother for the next three months. You’ve got your own comedic opinions, make no mistake, you’ve dabbled in slapstick before. Jake can testify of your bucket-of-water-over-the-door phase, but you are not in the right mind or mood for this sort of thing right now. While he starts coughing up a lung, presumably due to his aforementioned amusement, you ponder his ability to take care of two children, let alone himself.

Your comedian of a great uncle owns a quaint little con act called “The Mystery Shack,” but a gumshoe like you finds the real mystery to be why anyone ever came. While he leads groups of naive tourists through his cabin turned comedic haunted house, he’ll tell them some completely hogwash story, all the while milking them for all the cash he can.

You find personal distaste with this line of work, you’ve always been a fair and judicious person and you feel as though his methods compromise many of the Crocker family’s values. And if that wasn’t bad enough, not one of his demented attractions includes the family’s greatest talent and tradition, baking! You’ve seen nary a baking themed fairy, or bog-beast taxidermy, or troll!

Wait, actually scratch that, of course there isn’t a baking themed troll, that would be stupid. This place must be getting to you.

And another thing, he expects you and Jake to work for him now! Honestly aren’t there child labor laws for a reason? Of course most of this business seems to be “under the table,” as your Pop pop John might put it, for the “tax benefits.” The only benefits you can see is the impending lawsuit for money laundering, and while that might seem interesting in theory, you aren’t completely sold on the idea of having a blood relative arrested. Need to keep the family name clean after all.

All in all, despite these few grievances, this summer was looking to be pretty boring. That is, until one fateful day...

You’re once again assigned to “helping out,” within the shack’s gift shop, you’ve been sweeping up dirt and pushing it out the front door since eight in the morning. Eight am, bright and early, during the summer. You can’t think of a single one of your friends back home who would even consider it a vacation if you have to wake up at seven to get ready.

Of course Jake’s taking everything in stride, as per usual. You watch him restock shelves of Pop pop bobblehead lookalikes, who would ever buy such ghastly things eludes you. This entire shack is full of such frivolous and unseemly wares that you actively wonder how it stays in business. You suppose part of it has to do with the magnetic charisma of one John Egbert, who’s twinkling deep blue eyes and wide grin scream trustworthiness to any unsuspecting sightseer in dire need of draining their wallets. You’re already quite familiar with how far a buck-toothed smile can get someone, you’ve got Jake after all. The physical similarities between your great uncle and twin brother only prove that this family’s got some pretty strong genes, as well as some admittedly poor pearly whites.

On the topic of Jake, he startles while in the midst of placing another bobble-head, almost stumbling off of the box he was using as a stool. A girl has popped up to his left. Red-faced and stammering like mad she hands him a note and scuttles off. Jake watches her go, a look of confusion written clearly across his face as he opens her little note.

His face then proceeds to shuffle through three things; confusion, realization, and finally, beet red embarrassment. He reads what is most likely a cute confession from a pretty girl who just met him, and yet his facial expressions increasingly lean towards discomfort. You wonder how he didn’t see it coming, her entire demeanor spelled pre-teen attraction, but as he’s told you many times before, “One wouldn’t want to assume something so serious, especially when you’d turn out to be a pompous cad when proven wrong Janey!” Or something like that. Your brother’s always had an affinity for silly language.

One thing to note about your brother, is that he is not dumb. He might be a little slow on the uptake, and he may have an incurable case of wanderlust, but when push comes to shove he more often than not has a steady head atop his shoulders. Not to say he isn’t inclined to irritating bouts of gullibility, but usually you’re able to talk some sense into him. Usually.

Another thing to note about your brother, he has come to that age when people start to notice him. With maturity comes attraction of all kinds, and Jake seems to have become something of an amorous honeypot. You can’t count on your fingers the amount of times you’ve seen a scene like this play out, and you’d feel bad for the girls if you weren’t so sure that their attraction was purely physical. Of course that’s not to say his bubbly and outgoing personality doesn’t play a role in his attractiveness, but you personally don’t believe one could truly fall for someone after a mere 10 or so minutes of frivolous conversation.

You briefly wonder if girls would confess to you more often, if you were just a bit more bubbly. You are twins after all.

Or, of course, boys. Probably boys, seeing as you are a girl and girls date boys. Definitely boys actually, now that you think about it. This was a dumb train of thought, what is Jake saying?

“Would you look at this card, ‘Do you like me? yes. Definitely? Absolutely?!’ I’m flattered by the enthusiasm really, but I’m having trouble finding a tasteful way to decline, wouldn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings after all,” Jake is discussing his plight with the cashier, a young adult by the name of DAVE STRIDER, who has apparently been working for your Pop pop for almost as long as you’ve been alive. Dave also seems to have a strange sense of loyalty towards the old man, which you haven’t been able to discern whether or not is a part of his “ironic cool-guy” persona. He is an apparent master of “sick beats yo,” and has spent years working on a screenplay that will, “get him and his bro out of this hick-town and into the real cinema scene.” You aren’t too sure about that goal though, his humor seems to be a bit, “alternative.” Regardless, he seems to be a good conversationalist, and he takes what you have to say seriously, something that can’t be said about dear old Pop pop.

He’s leaning on the counter, his lanky body slumped lazily across. Dave doesn’t really pay much attention to the gift shop itself, opting to snack on Doritos and bang his head to hipster music blaring through his headphones. You don’t think Pop pop would appreciate that, but then again Dave doesn’t take Pop pop all that seriously. Which isn’t really a surprise, seeing as he’s made it his job to be a literal joke of sorts.

Jake likes him well enough though, enough to look to him for guidance in his adolescent romantic endeavors, that’s for sure. Dave merely snickers at the note, and holds out his fist to Jake, who enthusiastically bumps him back. Dave is a notoriously COOL DUDE, who works in the shack as a cashier and mechanic, as well as doing just about anything else that needs to be done.

Although if you’re being completely candid, he isn’t really all that good at that mechanic bit. Anytime there's a need for an actual handyman his little brother comes in and does it for him. They both wear the same sort of peculiar sunglasses at all hours, and for whatever reason Dave’s elusive little bro’s shades are outlandishly triangular. Speaking of Dave’s brother, even though you’ve seen him enough times to puzzle out his relation to Dave, you’ve never been fully introduced.

You think his name might be Dan? Derek?

Something with a D, you’re not sure. He always seems to make an appearance at least once a day though, whether there’s need for his abilities or not. You think he might just like being here, but you can’t be too sure.

Pop pop’s entrance is what takes you out of this train of thought, he’s got a sign in hand and a glint in his eye that spells trouble for loafers everywhere.

“Alright, someone’s gotta go out into the woods and put these signs up,” Of course it’s business related,

“Not it!” Jake shouts out, dang it, why didn’t you think of that?

“Not it,” Dave lazily follows, right before you can get a word in, and you know what, sometimes being the most observant person in the room has its drawbacks.

John looks at you expectantly, and you make your frustrations known with an admittedly childish groan.

“Now don’t give me that look Jane, with the amount of blatant disrespect I’ve got to put up with I’d fire you all if I could,” He says with a twinkling smile, “C’mon now, it’s not like there’s monster fairies or magic little imp people out there waiting to get you! That’s just the kind of silly nonsense we tell the tourists when they start getting too comfortable here.” Well thats obvious, imps would be a stupid thing to be afraid of, what are they gonna do, mischief you to death? This is so dumb, John is being so dumb.

Of course you know that rationally speaking, the worst thing in those woods could be a wild coyote, or an unruly cat. The thought doesn’t quite quell your shivers when you walk through the forest. Was that a whisper you just heard, or simply the breeze rushing between branches? Maybe if you were a silly little kid like Jake you’d consider the former, but being a lady of pure unfiltered logic you know for a fact it’s the latter.

Or at least that’s what you’re telling yourself as you nail signs into the trees surrounding the shack.

—> Be outside in the surrounding woodlands; those signs aren’t gonna hammer themselves

That they aren’t, and so you begin your trek into the pinewoods. Basking in the shade they provide, the cool wind rustles leaves above, and the grass is lush under your tennis shoes. The smell of pine needles permeates the air. A sense of unease overtakes you in these woods, the feeling of unseen eyes settles upon your shoulders. Against any and all better judgement you allow yourself to be afraid for a moment. Signs in hand you bang nails into trees, and with each beat of the hammer the tension in the air seems to rise around you.

Bang, you’re alone.

Bang, in the middle of the woods.

Bang, if a young girl stands alone in the middle of the pinewoods, do her screams make any sound?

Clang, you can’t believe Pop pop even remotely thought this was a good or safe idea. What if- wait a second, clang?

What kind of tree clangs?

The kind that isn’t actually a tree at all, apparently.

You wipe dust off of what appears to be a hatch, which takes you by surprise. A hatch in a tree, in the middle of the woods? An A-class detective such as yourself knows this can mean only one thing, someone is hiding something. Once you actually manage to peel the door open, that “something” seems to be a little metal box with two switches inside. You consider the control switches before fiddling with one. Nothing happens.

Miles away a farmer swears to the sky as their entire barn falls into an underground bunker that immediately closes up again when you flip back the switch.

You toggle the other one.

And now the grounds started to shake, oh joy. Just your luck, Jane Crocker, master of getting ahead of herself.

Unbeknownst to you, the dear, sweet pony Maplehoof was behind you during all of this, and she is startled silly when the ground opens up under her to reveal a shallow hole in the soil. You watch the pony run off for a bit, and search for an ounce of sympathy (It did put it’s dirty hooves on your clean linens after all) before you turn to the real mystery afoot.

Peering into the shallow hole you gasp, a book! It appears to be aged by years of neglect, and it’s a wonder it didn’t rot underground all these years. The cover is a deep maroon, on top of it there’s an eye-catching golden symbol of a hand with the number three written in bold, smack dab in the middle. Speaking of wonders, the hand symbol on the front has six fingers, instead of the sometimes-standard five.

Wait, five’s always been the standard, what else would you have, four? Then it wouldn’t be called a high-five now would it? If it wasn’t the case it would be weird to emphasize the fact that this book has specifically six fingers when clearly fingers come in varied quantities.

But you digress.

Skimming the ancient tomb's contents, you read a portion silently, “I can scarcely believe it’s been 13 years since I’ve begun to study the mysterious fauna and magical flora of Gravity Falls.”

“Mysterious fauna,” you blink, and take a moment to look over your shoulders.

You continue, “TRUST NO ONE” paints the top of a particularly bleak looking page. You gulp, it's all in red, as if the author bled out and died while writing it.

You begin to read aloud, “I’m afraid I’ll have to end this account abruptly, as I have reason to believe I’m being watched. I must hide this book, before THE LORD has even a chance of finding it. To whomever happens to read this, keep your wits about you and keep your mind closed. You never know who could already be tainted. Remember now, in Gravity Falls there is not a soul you can trust.”

“Not a soul,” you parrot, dread washing over you as the words sink in.

Not a soul you can trust.

“Well then, now where does that leave me?”

“Jake!” You’ve just about jumped half a foot into the air, and you have to fight the urge to throw the book at him you’re so startled. Your stupid annoying little brother is beaming at you, bordering laughter as he watches you compose yourself.

“It’s nothing Jake, honestly what are you even doing out here?” You’re playing your disgruntled older sister card, hoping it will distract him long enough for you to come up with some sort of game plan.

No dice, he cuts to the chase almost immediately, “What, is it some sort of bookish nerd thing? It looks so cool, give it here,” he’s grabbing for it, but he should know better. A headstrong sleuth like you simply pushes him backward, and he falls sitting with a thud. You turn away, and curl around it protectively, attempting to shield it from his vision.

This does little to deter him, but he’s no longer laughing now. Instead something akin to a pout is ghosting his face, just as something akin to a scowl paints yours. He remains sitting, opting to just stare at you until you cave and tell him. Jokes on him because you’re a tougher customer than he takes you for. His frown only grows deeper as you remain steadfast in your refusal, the betrayal ghosting his features. Then his lip starts to wobble, and his eyes get all big and teary, and oh fiddle faddle now you’ve done it.

It’ll be more work having to cheer him up and then tell him rather than just tell him outright.

Finally, looking away from him, you sigh. “Fine, I’ll tell you,” right when Maplehoof whinnies in the distance, causing both of you to jump.

“but not here!”

—> Back at the Shack

“Woah, this is amazing!” Jake says, marveling at the sketches of various ferocious monsters, and magical beings within the journal, the current page showing some sort of bull-fairy abomination. “These beasts look like something straight out of the cinema!” The whimsical implications of this discovery are not lost on him, even if he is holding on to the most objectively childish and immature aspect of the revelation. Not you though, you’re probably the only person in this town who understands what a monumental discovery this is.

You think this as you twirl a phantasmal moustache and mime puffing a pipe, face deep in contemplation. Staying in character is very important within cases such as these.

You both sit in the armchair seated in the middle of one of the shack's more private rooms, not open to the public or housing an otherworldly exhibit. Jake slides down from the arm of the chair to sit directly beside you, squishing you to the other side of the seat as you both sit arm to arm with the book between you. The position reminds you somewhat of childhood, and you find as much comfort in his support of your discovery as you do in his warm body pressed against your side.

“Even better, it has real, factual records about all the strange happenings within this dreary town,” You recount to him while flipping through the book, as if he is the Watson to your Sherlock, “I was starting to question my own sanity when I found it, but according to this, there may even be some mysteries to be solved yet!” To say that you find the confirmation that your anxieties weren’t just adolescent neurosises and instead completely justified, ‘reassuring’ would be an understatement.

“You see, at a certain point the author couldn’t continue their accounts, and their writing gets more and more frantic throughout, it’s almost as though they were running from something, almost as though they had been stopped!” You may be gushing at this point, but any amateur sleuth worth their salt would be. The mystery of it all, the intrigue. Questions upon questions fill your thoughts. Who wrote this almost ancient looking field journal? What compelled them to record the strange findings of Gravity Falls specifically? Why were they cut off in such a violent, abrupt manner? Well of course the only logical explanation is that they were being followed, they were being silenced! But by who? What kind of Lord would-

The sound of the ringing doorbell pulls you away from your thoughts.

“Oh, he must be here now!” Jake says cheerily. As if you need more things to question right now. He jumps off the side of the armchair he’d been sitting in with you, and begins to leap towards the door.

“Who exactly is here now, Jake?” You say, somewhat irately. This is important business! You know he’s got a short attention span, but can’t he see what truly matters? How is it that you’ve had this journal for not even an hour, and he’s already distracted by some mystery person? Neither of you have time for childish or silly games, and honestly it’s not like you two know anyone else here, besides Pop pop and maybe the strider bros, you guess.

“Oh, well I was going to tell you, but when I went out to find you were immersed in that mysterious tome of yours, and the revelation of it all must have frazzled my friggin head. It plumb slipped my mind really, but what I meant to tell you is that I’ve went and made a new friend!” He gabs animatedly. As if the half an hour you were gone was enough time to form a lasting bond of camaraderie and friendship, and not the most suspicious thing you’ve heard.

But of course he wouldn’t see that, always looking for that fun-factor.

“Gone and made,” you say dryly, because you can’t really think of anything else to say on the spot like this.

“Huh? Gone and made what now?”

“‘I have gone and made a new friend.’ Grammar, Jake,” and oh he flushes hotly at that.

“I don’t have time for such prudish malarkey Jane, and I’ll have you know that as an important adventurer, I’ve got too much going on in my life to care about pointless and boorish things such as grammar!” He stammers out, and while he looks like he might stutter some more, the doorbell rings again, reminding him of why they were having this conversation in the first place. You watch him scramble to the door, all the while spouting his strange and silly Jake-isms and you fail to contain a giggle or two at the absurdity of it all.

Your brother is a very strange and silly boy.

However the thing at the door beside him is most definitely stranger, and not at all silly in the slightest.

Honestly the boy… man… adolescent-looking thing has to have come down with something- with the way it’s skin seemed to glow a yellowish tint, and how it’s body contorted inhumanly as Jake pushed him into the parlor.

Before you even have a chance to question just what type of tomfoolery is going on around here, Jake sets the stranger straight up beside himself and beams at you, proud of the accomplishment that was making a new friend all on his lonesome. His smile only widens as the tall, sickly thing wraps an arm around his shoulders.

Oh this will not do. Something is clearly amiss, no doubt about it. Not only are all the flags a bright, candy red but they’ve also got skulls and crossbones all over them, as well as the phrase, “TRUST NO ONE,” blasted across the front. You’re pretty sure even a non-detective would be able to tell what is wrong with this picture.

Cautiously, you introduce yourself, “Hello there,” oh good golly do you feel awkward, this guy's gaze makes you feel like someone’s dancing on your grave with two left feet.

“Now I'm sure Jake neglected to mention me,” just like he neglected to mention you, “but I’m his twin sister, the name’s Jane, and who might you be?” You hope that he doesn’t see through your bright disposition and notice your discomfort. As a member of a lucrative cake corporation you know that first impressions matter greatly, and even if you don’t exactly like him it is very important that he likes you.

With glazed-over eyes and the jerking of his hands the stranger croaks out, “N-normahl Mahnn-'' practically choking out whatever that was. Jake just laughs at him, and punches his arm playfully.

“Oh he’s such a scalawag, his name’s Norman,” and okay now you’re pretty sure Jake’s doing it on purpose. There’s no way he doesn’t find this isn’t incredibly suspicious, or at the very least a bit off?

“I met him at the cemetery!” Oh yes, the most natural of pal-making locations. Not at all strange, or worth questioning in the slightest.

As if almost on cue, a curt, unfamiliar voice interjects with, “What in the fresh fucking hell is that?” And while you most definitely agree with the sentiment, you can’t suppress a gasp as your twelve year-old mind can’t help but be a tad scandalized by the STRONG word choice.

You aren’t the only one who finds this offensive, as Jake also gasps, covering his new friends ears, or at least attempting to. While you assume he has some, from this angle his dark hoodie is covering most, if not all, of his head and face.

“That is not funny, Dirk!” Jake says fuming, and hey wait a minute, that’s his name. You were so worried of awkward encounters where you’d have to say his name, but be unable to and then ultimately admit to not knowing it, but now you can rest easy knowing that such an interaction will never happen. You, Jane Crocker the master detective, have managed to sleuth out his name, hindering any and all future embarrassment once and for all. This is just further proof of your competence and mental prowess. Sherlock WISHES he were you.

The arrival of DIRK STRIDER had somehow managed to escape not only Jake’s realm of notice but also yours as well, and he stands there like he’s made it his personal goal to be as still as possible. Geez Louise you didn’t even hear him enter, he just appeared beside you without preamble and now you’re wondering how long he’s been there. He’s got an expressionless stone wall for a face that feels vaguely judgemental, and he’s wearing workers gloves, like he was just welding or something. That can’t be safe, or at all adhering to child safety laws. He doesn’t seem to be taking kindly to “Norman” either though, so you consider him an unlikely ally in this situation.

Jake huffs at the both of you, but you notice something about “Norman’s” ghastly face. Is that, does he-?

“Yo Normalman, what's going on with that face of yours? It’s looking all kinds of reptilian, might wanna use some moisturizer bro.”

“Don’t make fun of his skin condition!”

Yeah something is definitely off about this Norman fella that’s for sure, but what exactly is he hiding? You won’t get an answer right away, as he and Jake scurry off to do some “adventuring,” which probably just includes running around town, making a muck of things and causing a general ruckus.

Or it could include something of a much more devious nature, and Jake’s just running off with him. Right into the trap, oblivious to any and all danger.

Either way, Norman finishes ramming himself into the wall and finally makes it through the door, leaving you and Strider the younger all on your lonesome. You turn to ask Dirk about his thoughts on the matter, but he’s already gone, most likely off to continue with whatever mechanical maintenance Dave hoisted onto him. Whatever, you’ve got other things to worry about anyway.

Master sleuth things.

—> Be in your room, read the book!

Oh read you do, you lay upon your musty mattress scourging the pages, practically inhaling all the knowledge laid bare in front of you. You flip through the book intently, and even just skimming you learn of all kinds of wondrous beasts, and malevolent creatures.

Despite the strangeness of your brother’s new “chum” you know he can handle himself just fine against a hoodlum or two. Besides that guy looked so sickly you doubt he could put up much of a fight anyway. You’ve got bigger fish to fry in the form of some supernatural literature anyway.

You quell any worries you have about Jake or his safety and get back to your book. After a quick glance, you stop when you see a particular illustration that strikes you as vaguely familiar. It’s of a man, crooked and hunched over, he’s got, his skin is pale and sickly, and yellowish-

Your eyes rush to the top of the page.

“Zombies?!”

This random outburst echoes throughout the house, and doesn’t go unnoticed by the other people within the shack. You don’t notice that one Strider the younger has been working on a light fixture not ten feet away from you, and he pauses to look over at whatever it is you're yelling about.

“Jumping Jehoshaphat! My brothers might’ve just befriended an animated corpse!” You may be freaking out right now, just a bit. Actually scratch that, you’re totally freaking out. You’re so on edge that you nearly jump out of your skin when Dirk puts his hand on your shoulder, steadying you in the process. You startle at him, how long has he been here? He looks at you impassively.

“Hey, uh, calm down,”

You huff at him, try to regain your composure and retain at least a shred of dignity.

“Now who said I needed to calm down? When did you get here, how much have you heard?” Okay so your voice is very much gaining volume, and you’re not sure if you wanna let Dirk in on the journal secret. You don’t know if he’ll even believe you or not, let alone if he’s trustworthy.

Dirk just studies your face, totally gauging how bananas you are right now. Wow, there goes any respect he had for you, huh? Not like you needed it or anything, but if worse comes to worst then he’d be a valuable asset in the saving of your twin. He’s way too competent with machines to make an enemy out of, if anything.

He looks like he’s trying to formulate the perfect response, like he doesn’t wanna leave any room for confusion. You’d admire it, if it didn’t make you feel so nervous in this context. When he does talk it comes out like a soft drone, not as blunt as you’re used to.

“Okay so, if I’m picking up on all this not so subtle subtext, you think the guy Jake is currently hanging out with is a zombie, correct?”

Well now you know why he was using a soft voice, he’s speaking to you like you’re some sort of delusional child! The nerve! Of course he wouldn’t believe you, he’s always come off as the straight-laced, logical type. But even a sharp girl like you knows that things aren’t always what they seem, so you were hoping he’d think likewise. Or at least humor you without being incredibly condescending.

Your expression must give away some of your inner turmoil because he begins to backpedal, “I’d believe you, if you said yes. I mean, wouldn’t be the first time this town bore witness to such an occurrence. It’s always been a bit off, I could tell ever since me and Dave moved here from middle' nowhere Texas. We've had hella problems with the locals acting like total brainless nutcases, like seriously it’s downright concerning how willfully ignorant they are. I’m pretty sure we even saw an actual fucking tentacle monster abomination out in the lake by the old Lalonde mansion, but the townsfolk seem privy to just blindly turning their heads away from it all. That or they’re all actually complete idiots, but I personally find that conclusion to be the bleakest one between the two.”

Uh okay, wow you weren’t really expecting that much in terms of conversation, but okay as long as he believes you you guess. Holy moly can that guy talk. You briefly wonder if maybe the reason why he’s so quiet all the time has less to do with him disliking your presence and more to do with him being a tad awkward. That thought is reassuring to say the least.

“Honestly the only foreseeable issue is that you’d need sufficient evidence to convince any adults who are actually qualified to do anything about it. Without any of that you just look like your heads done a triple acrobatic pirouette off of the handle, wherein the handle literally represents your ability to handle reality.
Or something to that effect. My Bro says stuff like that all the time, so it might sound kind of weird, if not a little out of place considering I’m making references to a screenplay that only I’ve ever read and am therefore the only fan of. But I digress,”

Nevertheless! He will prove to be a valuable ally in saving Jake and possibly averting the zombie apocalypse. Now that you know he also sees this town’s weirdness you think you can finally trust him.

Well okay, maybe not trust him trust him but let’s face it, you’re new in town and desperate for friends who aren’t blood relatives or like 20 years your senior. The fact that he believes you is totally a major plus also. Anyhow, you think him telling you about this weird old town has made you trust him enough to show him your weird old book. Wait, is he still talking? What is he prattling on about? Oh dear you shouldn’t have spaced out so quickly, you’ve gotta dial back in, what’s going on now?

“Anyway I uh, heard you talking to Jake about that book earlier, and you know for someone who’s apparently cautious you aren’t very aware of your surroundings. Or maybe I’m too aware? I’m rambling, but I like, see where you’re coming from. I just feel like, you need evidence and stuff is all. And uh, yeah so, uh,”

“Dirk you’re right!” You jump right off of your bed, turning to him. “We need evidence, and we haven’t got a moment to waste!” He flinches at your outburst, and stiffens when you grab his arm, “We? Jane, I’ve got work to do, you know Bro can’t do anything practical for sh-”

“Yo Dirk,” Dave strides (hoohoo) into the room with what looks like a bag of radically ironic tortilla chips in one hand and a tool box in the other. “I thought that I told you not to swear in front of Egbert’s grandbabies.”

It seems like Dirk isn’t going to be able to help you out with the case, but like any good sleuth you know exactly what you have to do.

Find some evidence!

—> Spy on your brother and his friend to prove that the zombie apocalypse may very well be upon us!!!!

Woah there buddy, back it up with the accusations, no one's spying on anyone. It’s not like you can’t be in the same area as your brother for exactly 3.5 hours all while making sure to keep a distance of at least 15 feet. It’s not illegal.

And besides, it would be an investigation not “spying”. Please, you're above that.

Okay who are you kidding you are not at all above that, you are totally spying on him right now.

You don a tasteful fedora, as well as a fake mustache to protect your identity, and watch as he and that no good undead charlatan prance around town, all with happy gaits and even happier smiles. You follow them practically everywhere; through the old diner, into the dim arcade, past the incredibly outdated theater, and finally down the road to the most shady petting zoo you’ve ever seen. One of the animals appears to be a cow with several extra limbs and large, dead-looking eyes. The place makes you incredibly uncomfortable, and you have to try extra hard when being stealthy as not only are the animals constantly moving around, trying to lick or smell you, Jake keeps abruptly turning and pointing at every single thing he sees, all the while yanking Norman along.

It can’t be comfortable, being jerked around by an overexcited tweenager who acts like they’ve never seen a chicken before (although to be fair that chicken was a pale shade of blue,) and you can’t help but feel a bit of sympathy for the guy.

You watch Jake tug him toward a particularly fatherly-looking crab when you realize that you’d never let Jake lead you around like that. Norman's been so patient and accommodating to Jake’s impulsive nature and hasn’t even batted an eye at his more peculiar actions, (or arguably more important, word choice.) Maybe you’d passed judgment too soon, after all you’ve been following them all day and you’ve yet to see any brains get eaten, or any other zombie-specific behavior for that matter.

Maybe he really is just an incredibly awkward guy, and while you’ve been shallowly judging him purely off of appearances he’s proven himself to be a trustworthy companion for Jake.

Maybe he really did just want to be friends, and here you were trying to take away some greatly needed company from your notoriously awkward twin.

Maybe Pop pop was right, and you really are just a nosy kid with an overactive imagination.

To say you feel a little defeated would be an understatement, you were so sure that the journal would be the answer to all of your questions. The fact that it has now inadvertently let you down causes you to question everything you’d thought about it. Maybe it isn’t all that magical or anything, maybe it’s all just some prank made for gullible tourists, outsiders looking for something interesting about this town, outsiders like you.

Bitterly, you pack up your things, pitifully nursing your wounded pride. All this fuss over nothing, really Jane, you’d think yourself better than that. You've been judging Jake’s friend all day when you’ve been acting like nothing but a, a petulant child.

Just as you’ve gathered your resolve, you begin to slip away from them. Turning to give the pair one last glance, you watch as he roughly pulls Norman to a giant red lamb. A purple goat-mermaid jumps up from its pool to the side and bites on Norman’s sleeve. Jake shouts, bats it away, and you can’t help but let out a giggle at the spectacle.

You end up choking on your laugh, because while he and Norman have cheerily moved on, the purple-goatmaid is chewing away on something in its mouth.

Something yellow and fleshy.

There’s your proof.

“Jake!” Rushing over to him you grab his arm, he startles at you before making a quick recovery, happily putting his hand atop yours.

“Hullo Janey, care to finally join us? I mean it can’t be fun just sneaking around all creepy-“

“Jake, I was not sneaking. I was sleuthing. Also we have to go home right this instant.”

“Uh wh-”

“We’ve got important stuff going on, important family business to attend to!”

Jake stops to look at you, bewilderment and confusion with a touch of indignation. It’s Jake’s turn to be yanked around, and you jostle his good buddy Norm when attempting to tug him along home.

“Family business? Did something happen with Pop pop at the shack?”

“Yes, and we need you right away so quit your dilly dallying and hurry home with me at once!”

A ghost of a pout paints Jake’s face, and it’s almost enough to shake your resolve. Keyword almost, because when he drags his feet into the dirt you pull harder. He yelps, tries one last ditch effort of escape, but you’ve always been the sturdier one between the two of you. You mean business gosh darn it, and you’re getting Jake home whether he likes it or not. He doesn’t know what kind of threats lurk in this town, let alone right beside him.

Accepting his fate he turns back to the demonic ne’er-do-well, shouting that he’ll see him later and that he had a great time. Norman gives a poor attempt at a wave goodbye, likely due to the chunk of flesh he had taken out of him. You scowl and clutch Jake a little closer, deaf to his antiqued insults and childish protests. He’ll probably give you an earful once you get home, but you're confident that once you explain everything he’ll change his tune and might even thank you for looking out for him like a good, responsible older sister.

—> Jane: Explain everything

Well Janey has already gone and explained everything, but that’s not the point right now as you are one JAKE CROCKER, adventurer extraordinaire and thoroughly disgruntled twin.

“Lizard People?! I should of known!”

“What?! No wait, sorry wrong page, goshdarn dramatic reveals, look here Jake,”

To say you’re unimpressed would be an understatement.

Your dear sister, Jane, has just finished babbling about some accusatory hogwash all aimed at your newly acquired chum, Norman. Norman, who has shown himself to be not only a stand up companion, but a trustworthy ally when traversing the unfamiliar terrain that is the town of Gravity Falls. He took you all over, and Jane herself even bore witness to his extensive knowledge seeing as she was breathing down both your necks the entire time!

In all honesty you saw this coming from the beginning, you knew from the moment she made that vexed face while introducing him that she wouldn’t gamble on him to be of any help when the chips were down. Your sister has a tendency to read into things too much, her and her incessant skepticism always picking things apart and coming to the worst of conclusions.

But a zombie? Really now? We’re going there?!

“Jane, that is the most cliché, unoriginal and frankly overused plot I’ve ever heard in my entire life.” You can’t believe her, to stoop so low as to imply that your new friend is a tired trope found only in c-grade cinema.

She gives you a seething look, and you’ve decided to press your luck in hope of the incredibly unlikely event that you can convince her to back down.

“Is this some sort of prank, Janey? Because if I’m to be truthful with you, I don’t find it to be funny in the slightest. Honestly, couldn’t you of come up with something more creative? Like a werewolf, or uh, I don’t know, an interstellar refugee looking for companionship mayhaps?”

You know for a fact your lip curled up during that last one, but Jane doesn’t really seem to enjoy you giggling at her as if she were a joke right now.

But one has to admit, it's kind of hard to take anyone seriously when they’ve got a mystical tome in hand and a manic look in their eye. Janey must not see the humor in the situation though, because she pinches the bridge of her nose and exhales loudly.

“Jake,” her voice shakes as she inhales, “it’s ‘couldn’t you have,’ and you don’t understand, this is very, very serious!”

“As serious as those silly little lizard men you just showed me? What about those fellows, how do you know we’re safe from those?!”

“Jake, I already established that was a mistake and honestly it’s stupid of you to bring it up. Of course it’s not lizard people, that would be illogical and not even scary at all.”

“Oh because there’s nothing scarier than a slow moving, ill-coordinated dead man who I can power walk away from if need be!”

“Well what if he gets the jump on you? It’s a bit difficult to briskly walk away when you’ve got a chunk bitten out of you! Or, or if you have already been turned!”

“Well I’ve got some news for you Janey, because I’ve already got plans to hangout with him today, and it’s gonna be a spiffing adventure where nobody bites anyone because WE’RE ALL HUMAN!” You stomp your foot on the ground as you yell that last bit, consarnit, why can’t she just trust your judgment! Why’s it always gotta be some sort of conspiracy malarkey with her!

“Now who said you could go out and meet up with him? I can’t in good conscience allow you to willingly endanger yourself like that Jake, what kind of sister would I be if I did?” Jane folds her arms sternly as if to scold a fuzzy child, all while planting her feet firmly on the ground in front of you, cementing herself as the authority in this situation.

Well now she’s gotten you all worked up too, why is she being so obtuse? You’re not some stupid baby who can’t fend for himself, and she’s only a couple of minutes older than you anyway, what does she know?!

You feel your face get hot, your indicator that you’d best wrap this up quick, lest it end in tears.

“Oh Jane! You’re just being- uh,” you flounder, you’ve always had troubles with standing up to her.

“you’re being,” you swallow, you’re bollocks at confrontation.

“Oh just spit it out then, Jake!” Stars and garters, why’s it gotta be so hard to just let out a handful of words?

“You’re being paranoid, and- and frankly,

it’s a bit ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous?!”

“Yes Jane, right now you’re being ridiculous. I’m allowed to go and do whatever I want, you don’t get a say. Now, if you’d excuse me,” you push past her and make a mad dash out of the house.

Crimson floods her face, and you know you’ve gone and really upset her this time. You don’t stick around the shack long after that though, you know better than to rile Jane up and then taunt her with your presence.

She’ll cool off after you give her some space, you know she will. That’s how it always goes between you two. She gets mad and you get scared and after being away for a little bit she welcomes you back with open arms, (and maybe a prank or two if she’s still a little mad.) It’s by no means a perfect way to deal with it, but she’s your sister, when the chips are down there’s nobody else in the entire world you’d trust more than her.

But besides that, it’s not like you’ve got time to dilly dally right now. Last time you hung out with Norman he told you he had something very important to tell you. He had looked very anxious to get it out, and well, it feels almost cruel to keep him waiting when he’s gone and worked himself up into a tizzy over it.

—> Hurry! Go meet up with Norman

You practically skip all the way down to your designated meeting place, a lovely clearing in a secluded part of the forest that’s far away from anyone who might overhear any details pertaining to the important conversation you were about to have. A completely innocuous place to commune with no foreseeable downsides.

But while embarking on your leisurely stroll you can’t quite help but contemplate Jane’s sudden bout of neurosis, if you can even call it that. It’s not like you hadn’t noticed all the odd things about Norman, but you thought they were just that, him being odd! Many good people are guilty of that, especially you and Jane.

Speaking of such, it’s no secret that you and Jane are the oddballs from out of town. You want to establish yourself as someone other than the pretty-boy eye candy from the Mystery Shack, but that might just be the frequent romantic solicitations getting to you, just a little (they are, and it’s more than a little actually.) Nevertheless, you’re confident that Norman’s different.

But of course different in the sense that he’ll appreciate you for who you are, you mean, not in the supernatural sense.

...

Though if he was, you definitely wouldn’t judge him, not at all. You’d accept him for who he is. And then maybe he’d take you on his spaceship and show you every corner of the Milky Way.

(You hope he’s an alien though, because how wicked cool would that be?!)

Speaking of the devil, Norman stands in the middle of the clearing, and pine trees rustle as a soft breeze blows through them. You can almost hear chimes coming from someone’s summer lodge somewhere along the way. The sweet scent of pine is stronger here, you’re both much closer to the forest than most people care to venture. They usually stick to the grills and the mowed lawns. Not you though, you roam where the thicket is fresh and where the trees are high. You go wherever adventure calls!

And apparently so does Norman, seeing as he appears to be walking further into the pinewoods. You stall for a bit, but start right up again when he beckons you closer. You trail after him like that for a while, just a few feet back, close enough to see him but far enough to conceal his face.

Once you’ve made it sufficiently deep past the trees, you hurry to close the distance between you. Now you’re really, really curious now as to what he has to tell you. You've got about a billion different movies in mind wherein a moment like this would be the dramatic reveal. That he’s a misunderstood teen, who certainly seems like he could be hiding something, something important and exciting. You mayhaps of got your hopes way, way up right now, and you’re all but mentally chanting, “please be an alien, please be an alien,” by the time you make it to his back.

“We seem to be alone now,” you declare coyly.

“Yes. Alone…”

He turns to you, and his hood shields his face, obscuring any and all facial features from your line of sight. His mouth opens,

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,”

(Oh please be an alien, please be an alien, please be an alien.)

“Well chum, you can tell me anything,” you give him your sun-shiniest grin in hopes of proving your trustworthiness.

“Jake,”

He straightens himself, fiddles with his hoodie.

“I’m,” oh please say interstellar refugee looking for a partner who’s willing to crusade the stars in the pursuit of justice and adventure, plea-

“I’m in love with you.”

“What?!” All the blood drains from your face.

That’s what he wanted to-?!

“Also, I'm actually a bunch of little reptiles in a human disguise.”

“WHAT?!”

And sure enough, his hoodie falls off to reveal a pile of various reptiles trying to wear pants.

“Uh?!” You stammer, you don’t really know what you were realistically expecting, but it was decidedly NOT this.

You’re maybe feeling just a little lightheaded at the moment, just a tad.

“We are consorts!” Glubbed the salamander serving as his face, “we live in the woods!” He says quite animatedly. The rest of the bunch begins to chatter, chiming in explanations that are just vague and disjointed enough to do little more than confuse the living daylights out of you.

“I sent out a seed pod wishing we’d meet you!”

“We farm sometimes!”

“The prophecy said that our new queen would be beautiful!”

“What’s your opinion on the mailing system and/or the socioeconomic climate?!”

Yeah, you’re getting pretty much none of this. All their colorful faces muddle with their voices to create a sensory nightmare wherein you have trouble even crediting a face to its question, leaving you flushed in the skin and dry in the mouth.

You try to regain your composure, but the reptiles are now moving, arranging themselves into something else now that they’ve blown their cover. The one who had been serving as the head seems to be the leader as it is still at the top of the pile when the scaly little beasts scurry to arrange themselves in an approximation of what a person would look like getting on one knee.

The head salamander then actually gets on one knee, holding out a beautifully crafted crystal encrusted ring that looks far more befitting of a fair and lovely lady, not a tough and terrific boy like yourself.

(You also take notice of the fact that he appears to have lost his tail sometime during this excursion, huh, wonder what happened there.)

To say you’re shocked would be an understatement, if you’re to be forthright with the audience. You briefly recall the conversation you had with Jane earlier, and for a second you worry that there might actually be some fairly serious business afoot.

...

Who are you kidding? This is super weird and silly, a little TOO weird and silly for your liking, if one’s to be completely candid.

“Jake,” the top salamander glubs, “will you marry all of us, making all of consort kind your royal consort, and bring peace and unity to our kingdom?” He holds it out to you while standing on his tiptoes, despite already being on top of a little red alligator’s head and a pink turtle’s shell.

There’s no way you’re actually gonna say yes to this.
Obviously.

But the little guys are looking at you so expectantly, and you can tell by their squirming that they’re starting to grow antsy with your silence. The leader’s big, round glassy eyes look at you intently, standing firm in holding out the ring, ignoring the movements under him.

You swallow, pull at your collar in an attempt to alleviate some of the smothering heat that’s just about flooded your face.

“Look, fellas, I’m gonna have to be honest with you, you’re all very cute and silly, and you’re good fun to be around but, uhm” you hate doing this, you don’t like disappointing people, especially your friends.

But can you even really call them a friend if all they wanted to do was make a move on you?

You bite your lip, chewing on it has always been a nervous habit of yours, lord knows you’re nervous now.

“But sadly I, I’m going to have to decline your offer,” you frown, “‘cause you see, I’m a boy, and you’re a bunch of little reptile people, and well I don’t really know how that would work out,” you fail to mask a grimace, you really thought you’d made a new friend.

Apparently the disappointment is shared, because the moment they register what you just said every one of their faces fall. They go about packing their things with a pace so pitifully despondent you almost wish you’d said yes, if only to give them reason for cheer.

That is to say, every face but that of the ring bearer.

Instead, it gives you a little smile.

“That’s alright,” another strange glub, “we understand perfectly!” It scampers down from atop the others and stops at your feet, smiling at you. A peace offering of sorts.

You smile back, a tad perplexed but happy that you’ve seemed to have come to an understanding. You begin to think that maybe this doesn’t have to be so awkward after all.

That is until an iguana in all the way in the back of the pile pipes up,

“Let’s kidnap him!”

And that effectively sets the rest of them off. You aren’t even able to get in a word of protest before they all begin to shout high pitched roars and wave little scaled fists in the air.

It takes you a few seconds to process the situation.

…

“Oh fiddlesticks.”

—> Jake: Make a break for it!!!!

Sadly that is not possible, as you are not Jake anymore.

You’re too busy being DIRK STRIDER, puppeteer mastermind and swordsman extraordinaire who is also currently playing golf cart chauffeur for this crazy broad who’s convinced her twin brother is being actively eaten by zombies or something.

Said crazy broad frantically directed you toward an old park tourists usually picnic in due to the fact that it’s a usually secluded area. When she’d initially approached you it was with a level of urgency that was so determined it was honestly kind of impressive. Despite her well-mannered disposition, the girl’s got a will of steel you can’t help but respect.

And while the validity of her claim is definitely in question, who are you to argue with a kid wielding a rake like a pitchfork? ‘Sides, gets you out of doing Dave’s busywork, so it ain’t no skin off your back.

It also gives you an excuse to practice some of your sick sword tricks, maybe lob off some heads while you’re at it.

(Probably not, but you brought your katana anyway, just in case.)

As you near the park you turn to move into the forestry, Jane makes a sound of protest but you brush her off. It’s faster to cut through the forest, and if the situation is as dire as she makes it out to be, she’ll get over the momentary disruption of the woodland’s tranquillity.

And if it’s the property damage she’s worried about, you’re pretty sure old man Egbert will have it covered. Dude’s got a penchant for evading legal consequences, as well as an exorbitant amount of cash hidden away somewhere. You’re not sure where he keeps it, but with the amount of tourists he’s scammed in tandem with the numerous times he’s had the shack and its various facilities repaired, he’s gotta have a stash somewhere.

But based on Jane’s reactions you can tell she ain’t really all that used to this sort of thing though. Money sure, the girl reeks of upper-middle class suburban living, but the whole breaking-the-law part of this ordeal seems to be completely alien to her. You doubt she’s ever even considered small, petty crimes, such as stealing pins or stickers from a Hot Topic. Actually scratch that, from her cantor alone you doubt she’s ever even been to a Hot Topic, let alone consider stealing from one. While petty theft isn’t technically your particular niche, you wonder if she’d be willing to check one out with you regardless, maybe walk around the mall for a bit. It’d be a good excuse to try and befriend the twins so Bro will finally get off your back about the whole affair.

You file that thought away for later though, because while you’d love to daydream about hanging out with a some witty detective girl and her cute weirdo of a brother, it’s as pleasant as it is distracting and you’re kind of driving at the moment.

The cart bursts through the trees, forcing branches back and sending leaves flying everywhere. Forest debris trails behind you, the carnage alerting anyone within a mile radius of your presence. You come to an area where the trees thin, foliage clearing up enough for you to be able to see ahead of you, and from where you stand currently you find yourself swerving into what looks to be a bunch of colorful garden gnomes in the middle of the woods.

Jane curses like an old fashioned gumshoe as you jerk the steering wheel to the side, just nearly managing to stop the cart from tipping over. You’re rushing to park the damn thing when she gasps loudly, a sharp inhale cut short, and you lift your head to see what is definitely not a bunch of man-eating zombies.

There’s like, uh, maybe about a hundred little reptiles guys going absolutely batshit crazy out here? Like, they’ve even got their little fists balled up and seem to be wielding miniature weapons of the foam and paper variety, and that in combination with their small size makes it seem like less of a threat and just kind of adorable? It’s so distracting you hardly notice what they’ve done with poor Jake, and you have to double take as your eyes skim across the crowd. With all the commotion going on, he seems to be very tied up at the moment.

That is to say, he is quite literally tied up. A sea of scaly little hands carry him toward the forest while he squirms fruitlessly. He’s thrashing and swearing at them and you’re one hundred percent sure you just heard him use the phrase “boorish cur” unironically.

Calling the situation absurd wouldn't do it justice, this shit is straight up silly. It’s silly as FUCK. Which is why for that reason, and that reason alone, when faced with the sheer wrath of colorful reptilian fury, you allow yourself to snort obnoxiously behind your hand.

“Lizard people! What the dickens?! I was way off!” Jane’s hand is quick to point an accusatory finger at the multicolored 2 foot tall crowd, gesturing wildly at the mess in front of you, less like a cool detective and more like a crazed maniac.

Jake yelps out another ancient expletive, and then screams “I friggin TOLD you so, Jane!” All while kicking his feet, to which he then manages to knock down an iguana that tumbles down causing a subsequent cascade within the stack. It knocks them off their balance, and they almost drop him before the problem is hastily alleviated by a sassy crocodile in some (admittedly) cool suave shades.

All the little guys scramble around in a poorly coordinated attempt to keep him upright, and while you wanna feel bad for him, for some unknown reason Jake’s squawks of distress only add to the situational hilarity.

And alright, you’re not even gonna pretend that another bubble of laughter doesn’t catch in your throat, ‘cause like seriously, what the hell? How'd they even manage to tie him up like that? He should have been able to just like, briskly power walk away from these guys. Their legs are short as shit and he can’t be anymore fucking incompetent than they are. That shouldn’t be humanly possible, it’s just too dumb of a scenario to parse.

Although upon further inspection there does seem to be a literal fuck ton of them, so they might not be as adorable and nonthreatening as they initially appear, perhaps you’ll give Jake the benefit of the doubt. If only this once.

It’s still pretty funny though, you decide, taking care to school your face back into that of pure, unadulterated neutrality. You’ve got the poker face game on lock, nothing gets through this impassive fortress. You put the cart into park and leap out of it in one fluid motion, careful not to forget your trusty katana (even if you’re not so sure you’ll need it anymore,) just as Jane springs into action.

Lifting her rake, Jane leaps into the fray, sweeping the little reptiles away as she attempts to close in on Jake. Oh yeah, you came here to save him or something. Should probably get on that sooner rather than later.

Lifting your sword you get into the proper battle stance, ready and willing to charge into a strife, no matter how silly the circumstance.

With one final breath you inhale, and then, steady as ever, you swing.

—> Dirk: EPIC SWORD FIGHT BATTLE TO THE DEATH!!!!

Ah heck yeah! How cool would that be? You’ve got your cool anime katana and your sick nasty sword training, just itching to wreck some havoc on these poor, unsuspecting consorts.

Only one problem though, it appears you are no longer Dirk Strider.

That’s right, we started this story with a specific point of view and that’s how we plan on ending it. You can be an anime boy some other time, don't pout at me like that. Besides, there are a bunch of other cool characters to explore so how about you hold your proverbial horses on this one?

That being said, you are now of course a little busy at the moment being one JANE CROCKER, master of sleuthery, confectionery genius, and apparent creator of small reptilian peril.

And you’re having what is probably by far the weirdest and most stressful day of your life, seriously these little lizard guys better get the FUCK out of your way before you decide to really get physical! So far all you’ve been doing is pushing them aside with this stupid rake, and argh!

You’re just one more annoying chip or cry away from stabbing through one of these guys like they’re a freshly baked pastry in dire need of a thorough cooking.

It is a scaly sea of multicolored mayhem, and your brother is an adventurer’s ship thrown asunder in the storm! He’s smackdab in the middle of this mess, and he’s tied up to boot! This is the last time you let him go gallivanting with whatever unsavory types he finds around town, you don’t care what if they’re friendly, honestly Jake have some common sense!

Secondly, how are there so many of these things?! The amount is ludacris, bordering on excessive. They just keep pouring out of the forest and it feels like with every bunch you sweep away there’s double more quick to replace their spot in front of you.

You growl to yourself, almost just almost concede to stomping one foot in aggravation childishly, but thankfully you never get that far.

Because something blurs beside you and then suddenly Dirk seems to have somehow flashed his way to the other side of the crowd. He holds his sword in the position as if it had been just swung, and as he sheaths it the ropes binding Jake’s arms fall lip to his sides.

Well, that’s one way to do it. You guess.

Jake whoops in delight at his newfound mobility, and quickly takes to pushing his way through the crowd and toward the cart. He begins to have some trouble wading through the madness though as the little guys aren’t letting him go without a fight, they cling to his ankles and grab at his hands when he tries to sway them away. You attempt to sweep your way to him but with them all congregating tightly around him you have little luck.

Opting for efficiency, Dirk does that crazy flashy thing again and suddenly both you and Jake are scooped up and deposited roughly into the cart. (You fortunate enough to be tossed upright, while poor Jake’s head slams against the roof of the thing.)

“Buckle up,” Dirk monotones before promptly slamming down on the gas, not even taking the time to take his own advice and instead beginning to plow through the tree lining at increasingly dangerous speeds. He swerves along a cliff and jostles you and Jake like loose pennies in a purse.

You try to hold on as the three of you speed away, but then make the mistake of looking back to see the horrific amalgamation of reptilian horror barreling towards you.

So here you are, clutching the rim of the cart, the three of you practically clip through the cliff side, and Dirk makes what must have been a wrong turn because instead of safely retreating toward the main road you fly up a ramp and tear straight through the ‘Welcome to Gravity Falls’ billboard. Really emphasizing the ‘falls’ there as the cart uses limp branches to break its fall.

Cheese and rice it’s gaining on you!!!!

—> race to the shack!!!!

Dirk swerves the cart and this time it really tips over, tumbling over and skidding upside down on its roof leaving deep grooves in the dirt and completely tearing up the cart’s canopy. As you scramble to get out, Jake wrestles with his seatbelt and Dirk rolls into action. The consorts are upon you, looming over the shack and eclipsing any light from the summer sun.

Readying yourself, you brandish your rack and beside you Dirk gets into position with his sword. Jake calls out, but the two of you are already bracing yourselves for the charge ahead. He keeps shouting, and it’s rather frivolous if you’re being honest! Here you and Dirk are, trying to defend your hearth, can’t whatever he has to say wait until, oh I don’t know, you’re not in immediate peril!? You seriously cannot parse what’s going through his mind right now, cannot fathom what would compel him to try and distract you at this moment.

He waves his arms, referencing something you can’t quite make out. Something about a teeth thrower? Reef mower?

There’s not a second to consider it! As even with your and Dirk’s battle stances you know it won’t be enough. The beast is here now and as it menaces ever closer you swallow dryly around your faux confidence.

But it just so happens that as the consorts barely begin to graze your rake they’re suddenly pushed back by an invisible force.

“Get back, you vermin!”

You turn around to see Jake holding up John’s leaf blower and roving it over the entirety of the mess of consorts.

So that’s what he meant. Well then.

Toppling like a stack of jostled fruits precariously stacked in the supermarket, you watch as they all fall back with relative ease.

Whatever horrific beast they’d assembled themselves into earlier has quickly become nothing more than a disheveled stack, and with their newfound vulnerability through disorganization they don’t seem too keen on sticking around.

“That’s what you get for messing with my sister you villainous scum!” He blows an alligator straight in its face and it runs off to chase its stylish shades that went flying.

They scramble towards the woods in clumps and patches, with the last of the stragglers disappearing into whatever cracks or crevices they can find.

With Jake’s whooping and hollering you almost hear the victory more than you see it, and as he’s pumping his fists into the air you turn to consider your battle partner.

“That was surprisingly easy,” the state in which you find Dirk Strider’s face is one of shock, disbelief, and overflowing joy.

That is to say, his face has yet to move a muscle and is as stoic as ever. (But you know in your heart that he feels the same elation you do, you can just tell.)

The day has been saved, and it’s all thanks to-

“DAVE! What did you and your hooligan younger brother do to my golf cart?!”

Pop pop stands in behind you all in abject horror at the sight and he’s got a face full of STERN GRANDFATHERLY DISAPPROVAL (which is a severe contrast to the perpetual gigglemug you’re used to seeing on him.) In the heat of battle, you’d kinda totally forgotten about silly things such as “competent adults” and “property damage.”

Dave saunters out nonchalantly, but is quickly caught off guard by the sight of the overturned cart, and in his shock his concerns sound less like words and more like the squawks of an unruly crow. Motioning to Dirk and then both you and Jake he begins to babble about rather incoherently before promptly conscripting Dirk to the task of repairing the broken cart. Surprisingly, Dirk’s reaction to this is nothing more than a quick nod of the head. Wordlessly he dusts off his baggy jeans and begins to head inside with Dave still waving his arms around, animatedly lecturing him on safety that frankly you’re unsure if he needs.

Guess you’re not gonna see him for a while, kind of a bummer actually.

With that all squared away Pop pop takes on a much more exasperated countenance, looking over at the two of you with an expression that’s a half bemused half perturbed as he shakes his head good naturedly.

He scratches his nose in a way that’s almost theatrical as he lets out a guffaw.

“Now I hope that the two of you know that the only reason I’m not raking either of you over the coals right now is because it’s so easy to work Dave up and into a tizzy. I don’t want to have to enforce anything strict, but in the future do try to keep collateral damage to a minimum, won’t you?”

He chuckles to himself before heading inside. Rather knowingly you might add. (Perhaps he is not as oblivious as he’d lead you to believe.)

Whatever the case, Jake turns to you grinning like mad and honestly you can’t say you’re not doing the same. He makes a rush towards you before suddenly stopping, remembering himself, and instead he brushes off his knees.

You cough awkwardly to yourself, look away as you wait for him to gather whatever words he’s looking for.

“Jane”, he begins, stops and stutters, “I think,

I think I might owe you an apology? You were just looking out for me and I still went and bolloxed it all up.” He’s unable to meet your eyes, but you’ll forgive him for it this time.

“Now hold on buster,” and he flinches at that but you’re not done, “did you or did you not just up and save our collective cabooses back there? It may not have seemed like it, but I can assure you that Dirk and I were writing out each other’s obituaries by the time you mowed that monster down.”

What he gives you isn’t quite a smile, but hey, that's an improvement. He’s got this slight washed-out look to him that makes you ache with guilt because after all he did have a point earlier, didn’t he?

“Also, well. I should apologize too. I know I can come across as a bit patronizing at times, and you know I’ve got a temper, but I never meant to make you feel like you weren’t smart enough or capable!”

“Oh it’s not that Jane, truly. It’s just that, *sigh* I guess I’m just disappointed that the first friend I made here was secretly a bunch of salamanders trying to marry me, that's all.”

“Oh well, don’t feel too forlorn. Perhaps the next one will be an alien.”

“Oh shove off with it!” He laughs, punching your arm before he quickly pulls you into a hug. Rolling your eyes, you make sure to get in a few awkward pats before he eventually relinquishes you from his embrace.

Making your way inside, you catch John and Dave speaking in hushed voices. You can just barely parse what’s being said, as despite your curiosity they hush up when they see you and Jake enter the room. How suspicious.

“What were you guys talking about,” alright yeah, leave it to Jake to get right to the point. Always a man of action, that one.

Pop pop and Dave share a glance that lasts only for the space of a second, before John makes a show of getting out of his chair and turns his attention back to you and Jake.

“Alright,” he claps his hands, “so, the thing Dave and I were just talking about was how,” he stalls.

“How it just so happens we’ve got an extra shipment of merchandise! And we just can’t seem to figure out what to do with it! So, in all my grandfatherly benevolence, have decided to let the two of you pick something out for yourselves, just this once.” He smiles so breezily that you don’t trust it one wit, nor the way his eyes twinkle mischievously for that matter.

Dave doesn’t seem to like it either, what with the way his head snaps to John. It’s enough to win Jake over though, and he immediately rushes towards the gift shop.

You put out an arm to hold Jake back, “what’s the catch?” Knowing John this very well could be the set up toward an elaborate prank. Actually scratch that, any prankster worth their salt would be able to see that it definitely is.

“No, no tricks here, scouts honor,” he crosses his heart and smiles even wider.

You’re still skeptical, but you let Jake go. Eyeing John as you wait to hear a bucket hit the floor or a pie hit a face. The sound never comes, and so internally you let out an exhale of relief. You don’t know if you have the energy to help Jake clean the cream off of his face or wring his jacket out to dry.

“Cmon Jane, I’m sure there’s something you’d enjoy. Something nifty!”

John probably just wants you to drop it, but you’re reluctant as you’re still curious. So instead you just walk past him casually and head towards the shop.

He smiles, “Atta’ girl.”

You don’t typically enjoy doing as you’re told, but you're sensible. You’ll live to sleuth another da-

BANG

“Jumping Jehoshaphat!” What in blazes is Jake doing? Did he find-

“Pop pop I’ve decided what I want!”

“Not that merchandise Jake! Jesus, what are those even doing out there?” John rushes ahead of you, “Step away from the fire arms this instant young man!”

You peruse the shelves while Pop pop unsuccessfully attempts to talk Jake down from owning a handgun (he was already quite fond of them.) You stop in front of a mechanical spoon plated with scarlet. Lifting it you quickly discover that when you press on a button to the side it becomes a fork. How curious.

Later, when it’s just the two of you, you both fall asleep while reading the journal. With Jake drooling all over your bed while you’re strewn across the book, it’s as if you were studying it in your dreams.

Which is why you don’t notice when John removes the rug in the closet to reveal a pedestal with mysterious markings on it. Nor are you cognizant when he steps onto it and is transported into the lab hidden deep under the ground.

No, for now you dream. Of pranksters and detectives. Of charming princes and roguish girls. Of dream demons and dead brothers.

You dream, and in the morning, you’ll prepare for whatever mysteries you’ve yet to face.