Two different 3k-word chapters, published less than a week apart? Am I crazy? Yes. The answer is yes. Hey, B-T-Dubs, are any of you Gravity Falls writers looking for a challenge? Well, if you go into that Forum tab up there at the top of your screen, and search in the Gravity Falls forums, I've got a challenge up there for you. 100 prompts for Gravity Falls fanfic stories. One hundred. Take a look if you're in need of inspiration. And, hey, thanks for reading!
"Look, I'm not saying you have to let me take a bathroom break. I mean, you're the one in charge here, I've got no sway in this. I'm just pointing out that the doctor said – "
"Ugh!" Coach Tetslaff threw her hands in the air in frustration. "You know what? Fine! Fine, take the stupid bathroom break. The fight's not worth it." She turned back to keep her eye on the class, and Danny heard her mutter something about "coddling glorified human first-aid kits" as she did.
"Thanks, Coach Tetslaff!" he said cheerily, the smile on his face half for show, half genuine. Maybe this was the lucky break Sam had predicted for him yesterday. The coach had the class working on the track part of track and field, assigning everyone to different running events, and Dipper had just finished up an eight hundred-meter dash – an event that clearly was not a good fit for him. The kid was exhausted, and had gone around the side of the building for a water break.
Which meant that Dipper was distracted, worn out, and currently out of view of Danny. After Dipper's answer to his query yesterday, Danny didn't believe for one second that ghost weapons were all he was hiding in that backpack, and now was as good an opportunity as any to find some answers.
Tetslaff's permission was all he had needed, and then he was off, darting to the boys' locker room and skidding to a halt in front of Dipper's locker.
He took a deep breath and turned his arm intangible, then slowly reached through the locker door, taking care to simply grab the strap and not let his hand go into any of the pockets, and dropped the backpack on the bench in front of him.
There it was. His bag full of answers. About damn time.
He moved to grab the zipper of largest pocket, and yanked his hand back when he got what felt like a static shock. It was a minor one, sure, but it seemed even in his human form, this stuff was enforcing a no-touch rule for him. Just to test it, he tapped lightly on the other zippers around the backpack. None of them had any effect; it seemed the biggest pocket was the only one repelling him. Which, of course, meant that it was the one to search.
Chewing pensively on his bottom lip, he reached his intangible arm back into Dipper's locker and pulled out his shirt. He wrapped it around his hand and tested the zipper again. Bingo. It seemed his human form was fine with these things as long he didn't touch anything directly.
He unzipped the pocket and peered into the bag. There sat the tools that he had seen used yesterday, the pipe, the salt pistol, the amulet, the bag of blood blossoms. The only thing missing was the bottle that had held the holy water.
There were other items, too, ones Danny didn't recognize: a jar filled with what looked to be shimmering blue fish scales, several unlit stick candles, a silver mirror, a box of chalk, and scraps of paper covered in unrecognizable symbols littered across the bottom of the bag.
Danny frowned as he picked through the items with his shirt-wrapped hand. Sure, these things were weird, but none were any weirder than anything Dipper had used yesterday, and none of this was worth hiding particularly from him. He dug through pocket, keeping his eyes peeled for something he may have missed. As far as he could tell, there was nothing.
He pulled his hand out of the bag, zipped it back up, and unwrapped the shirt from his hand, which he then ran, frustrated, through his hair. Nothing in that pocket was anything he'd expect Dipper to consider some big secret. So what the hell was the deal?
Well, as long as he was here, he might as well be thorough. He checked the side pockets of the backpack, finding a phone in one, and a pack of gum and old eraser in the other. The middle pocket next, which seemed to just be school stuff. Two textbooks, one for American History and one for Algebra II, a spiral-bound notebook, his pencil case, a folder, another notebook, this one hardbound…
And looking awfully full for the first week of school.
Danny grabbed the notebook and pulled it from the bag. The edges of the pages were well worn, a number of their corners dog-eared and loose leaves of paper and post-it notes sticking out between the pages. It was around three-quarters of the way filled, Danny noticed as he ran his thumb on the edges of the page.
It wasn't his to look at, he knew. He didn't know what the notebook was for. It could have been something that Dipper had just carried over from the last school year, or perhaps it was his personal diary or novel-in-progress, both for his own eyes only. It would be wrong to read it. Because that would be a huge invasion of Dipper's privacy.
Then again, just skimming it didn't really count, right? Not reading it, just getting a quick idea of what it was, to put his mind at ease.
He set his thumb at the edge of the first page, and flicked through it rapidly, catching glimpses of the contents – paragraphs upon paragraphs of writing, all in the same scrawling penmanship, interspersed with illustrations, diagrams, post-it notes, photographs, newspaper clippings. He really did do his best not to actually read it, just skim, but of course he couldn't help but absorb a couple of phrases or images here and there, as one does.
- couldn't find anything about it in Ford's personal library, but the public library said they might have records of –
- seem to react to reflected sunlight as much as they do direct. I found a good clearing to set up a snare, so hopefully –
A photograph of a reptilian arm with what looked to be a fork of lightning shooting between two of the fingers, the whole image slightly out of focus.
- The Agropelter, anthrocephalus craniofractens: indigenous across the northern United States from Maine to Oregon, this primate-type creature is –
A post-it note reading: Ask Ford about total entropy.
A sketch of what appeared to be a bird claw, if birds had about four extra talons on each foot.
- tests to see if any of them had reaction's similar to Danny's, and although there didn't –
Danny paused, flicked back a page. Yes, he was right: he'd seen his name in the notebook. If that didn't justify actually reading, really reading, what was in this notebook, then he didn't know what would. He wasn't sure how long a bathroom break his detri-something hyper-whatever would justify; hopefully a long one, he figured, as he sank down onto the bench to read.
I won't rule out the possibility that prolonged exposure to the ghost-related work in the basement laboratory may have caused some sensitivity to one or some of the traditional anti-ghost weaponry in my backpack. Of course, it also stood to reason that the rest of the Fenton family would then have similar reactions. I went ahead and placed the paper talismans startegically, tried to make subtle contact between them and my equipment, basically ran tests to see if any of them had reaction's similar to Danny's, and although there didn't seem to be any so far, I haven't yet tested everything, and I don't know yet which one seemed to have hurt Danny. I'll have to pick it up next time I'm in the Fentons' home.
If there had ever been any doubt as to whether Dipper had noticed Danny's flinching away from Dipper's backpack on the first day of school, it was now gone. With hesitant, nervous fingers Danny flipped back a few pages in the notebook, picking out passages to read, to see what else Dipper had picked up on.
So far online I've barely been able to find any information at all on this Amity Park, let alone anything related to ghosts. Considering how prevalent they're supposed to be, according to Ford, that's shocking. I only managed to find a bit on it on a couple of message boards, and I don't really trust the reliability of the websites they were posted on. I wonder if maybe the Never Mind All That act had a precedent before it, if perhaps they're keeping this under wraps. Mabel says it's probably a big government cover-up. It wouldn't surprise me.
A printout of the aforementioned message boards and a copy of the town map were scotch-taped on the next page, with notes scribbled onto the map of places to look into. The kid had done his homework, it seemed, even if it hadn't yielded much by way of results.
Ford is going to start meeting with those other scientists starting tomorrow. He said if they gave us permission, Mabel and I could have a quick tour of the lab, but that's it; no helping with the ghost research until he's absolutely sure there's no way we can get hurt. His new 'safety rules' are driving me crazy. Grunkle Stan said that it's a guilt thing, Ford trying to over-correct after Weirdmageddon last summer, which is dumb because we're pretty much over that. Hopefully he'll get himself sorted out soon, but in the meantime, it's just making things that much more difficult for me and Mabel.
Danny raised his brow, sounding out that 'Weirdmageddon' word in his head and trying to figure out if it was familiar to him at all. He drew a blank. Probably not important, he figured. He flipped back ahead a couple of pages, went back to looking for mentions of himself and reading the accompanying passages.
First the issue with the backpack, now he vanishes when he claims he was just going to the bathroom. Mabel says it's nothing and that I'm just being paranoid, but considering her track record judging guys who she finds cute, I think that's actually even more reason to keep an eye on him.
Ford said he'd only met Danny briefly so far, and that he hadn't really discussed him much with Jack and Maddie. He did say that the Fentons were a little concerned about Danny and his 'behavior' since starting high school, but he didn't give me any more detail than that. He said that's probably just Danny's business anyhow. I'll have to look into that.
I think Danny is starting to get suspicious about me. He was being really odd before gym class, lingering in the locker room in front of my locker, and I'm pretty sure he kept looking over at me during class itself. He also broke his foot almost immediately after I hurt my knee, which normally might just be a coincidence, but considering everything else, I doubt that's all it is.
A lot of people in class seem to be pretty familiar with ghosts around here, and from what I've heard, some of the ghosts and their behavior or abilities seems really strange. I asked Ford about it, and he said that he'd let us know if there was anything we needed to worry about, and for now, we should just stay out of the fray if any sort of ghost fight comes up, that there are a lot of professionals in town who specialize in ghosts and will take care of it. I don't know who Ford thinks he's kidding. Hopefully I can find some information about these supposed specialists.
Danny's foot was healed today. I saw him in the cafeteria before school, and he was walking just fine. No cast, no bandage, not even a hint of a limp. I confronted him about it and he made up some excuse and left. I don't know what to think of him. I can't get many answers about him either. Hardly anyone I've asked at school knows who he is, and those who do don't seem to think much of him.
Scattered throughout Dipper's journal entries were more printouts, mainly what seemed to be archived newspaper articles, all detailing the town's ghost problems. A few of them, naturally, featured Phantom. Bits and pieces of the articles and photographs were highlighted or circled, and Danny felt his stomach churn when, after a long description of the encounter with the Lunch Lady (Holy water had no effect on the ghosts, and the effect from the salt pellets seemed minimal, Dipper had scribbled in the margins. I'll see if I can find Ford's notes on ghost weapons and look into this.), several pages were filled to the edges in nothing but Phantom articles and notes squeezed in between them of what information he could get about the ghost from the Casper High students.
If Danny thought he was worried by that, however, it was nothing compared to how he felt when he turned the page again and saw the pictures taped there.
The first was a photograph of Phantom, one that Danny remembered had won a photo contest sponsored by the newspaper several monthsback for being one of the clearest images anyone had gotten of the ghost. Beside it was a picture of Danny Fenton, in his human form. It was his yearbook photo from last school year, printed on cardstock paper, and Danny neither knew nor cared where Dipper had gotten it. He was much too concerned about the writing all over the photos – measurements were marked all over the two faces, and in the empty space left on the page Dipper had written out equations, ratios.
The notebook was shaking in Danny's hands as he tried to read the accompanying written entries, but the words seemed to be swimming in his vision, refusing to let him focus on them enough to read them properly, and they seemed to just be coming in as disconnected phrases and sentences. Or, maybe that's actually how they were written on the page?
I haven't noticed any signs of possession on Danny, and I've gotten a good look at his eyes.
Theory: ghost with powerful enough shapeshifting abilities to appear human? But then why wasn't it repelled by my amulet on the first day of school the way it was during that fight at the mall?
He definitely breathes, and eats. Ghosts shouldn't have to do that.
Ford said he'd ask the Fentons for me about Danny's 'behavior problems'. I don't think he actually will.
Where was Danny when he wasn't in the bathroom?
How did he heal so fast? Why did he need to heal at all? He shouldn't have gotten an injury like that if he was a ghost, right?
And, in bold blocky letters at the bottom of the page with the photographs, SAME PERSON? HOW?
At least Danny finally had a real answer. This was why Dipper had been keeping his backpack so close to the chest. He wasn't hiding the weapons. He was hiding his research. Research about Danny.
The bell rang, startling Danny into jumping and letting the notebook fall closed in his hand. He felt – well, he wasn't quite sure what he felt. Some odd combination of panicky and numb. Like there were butterflies in his stomach, but they were dead.
Somewhere in his mind he registered the sound of footsteps, the class moving in from outside and toward the locker room. One set up footsteps was louder and faster than the others, someone running, and as soon as Danny thought it, there was Dipper Pines, standing in the doorway, panting slightly, obviously having rushed to the locker room as fast as he could once the bell dismissed the classroom, and just as obviously having arrived too late.
Danny met Dipper's wide eyes, the notebook still in his hand, the open backpack still beside him on the bench. Dipper's eyes darted from Danny's face to the notebook, and his mouth moved silently a couple of times, before he finally spoke his voice coming out in sort of a squeak. "Danny. Did – did you – "
Numb seemed to override panicky at that moment, and Danny stood up, dropping the notebook back into the backpack as Dipper silently watched. He couldn't deal with this right now, he decided. He had just a few minutes of passing period, and that wasn't even enough time for everything he'd read in the notebook to sink in, let alone for him to properly confront Dipper about it.
"Gotta be careful about these gym lockers," Danny said, surprised by the flatness of his own voice. "They're not all that sturdy, see. Would make it real easy for somone to go snooping."
"Look, I – "
Before Dipper could get another word in, he was shoved aside as the rest of his classmates began pouring into the locker room. Danny turned his back on Dipper, turned back to his own locker. He changed out of his gym clothes in record time, not even pausing to acknowledge Tucker when the latter made it to his own locker and asked Danny what was up, why had he taken so long.
He could see Dipper on the edge of his vision, trying to meet his gaze, as Danny finished changing, slung his own backpack over his shoulder, and stalked out of the locker room, taking care not to even glance toward the other boy as he left.