Smooth Sailing by Queen Elizardbeth

Chapter 4: At Gravity Malls Where Trends Become Fly

Notes:

At this point, the Chapters are far further apart from each other in time. This one is set a few days later, the next will be further past that, etc. They become a bit more like one-shots, but they'll all be part of the same story. I hope you all stay with me after this, and I hope we all end the series' end. I'll probably still be posting even after the finale.

In the town of Gravity falls, between the hub of rural weirdness and a small ridge of hills that made a barrier to the north, rested a long, two-story building filled with consumer desire. It's name being a twist on the town's own title, Gravity Malls housed most of the chain stores that were unable to find a home in the village's center. In that great hall could be found enough video-games to keep one up all night, a large variety of black, moody clothing that was born by the town's favorite morgue-and-media emo couple, and many other shops at which all citizen's of Trembly's town could find that which they sought.

Among those who frequented the mall on weekends was the town's most popular and most wealthy teen. Each Sunday afternoon she could be seen browsing the jewelry shops in search for a new necklace, leaving the Maelstrom department store with bags full of the newest fashions, and, at all times, flanked by her two lackeys who could strike fear into the hearts of whomever dared approach their leader. Both popular in their own right, they made great names for themselves across all classes. But their terror was nothing compared to Pacifica's. So much as making un-permitted eye contact was viewed as taboo amongst the youth of the town, and the social consequences were near unbearable. She knew of the many eyes that admired and feared her as she moved through her domain, and allowed them to watch, knowing she could drive them away by simply flicking her hair, the threat of being noticed terrifying to them.

At the moment, the three were joined by two others: Hank Wegewood and Dylan Mortimer, both member's of Oregon's upper class. They were among the few that were allowed to approach the founder's heiress, and even then, they could be frozen out with a single word. Hank, though not the most athletic of fellows, set the towns trends for the male sex, displaying each season's new style with a new suit or cravat. He was very sophomoric, but he knew when he should cease flaunting his knowledge to the adoring crowds. His father owned the remaining land that did not fall under the shadow of the Northwests, and his mother was one of the top managers of the Roadkill County Hospital.

Dylan, however, was very different from his voguish friend, despite also coming from a background of wealth. Dylan was one of the linebacker's on the High-school football team, his great stature and width making the job easy for him. The only thing that held him back from the position of Quarter Back was the slight issue of him being duller than a blunt ax. His father, the town's most prestige banker, had made a deal with the school that resulted in a boost in both sport's and art's finances and Dylan's graduation being ensured. Despite this, he was not completely inept. His stance at 6'8 and shoulder width of over three feet made him desirable to the ladies (a fact that he flaunted at the freshmen), and only threatened by the Corduroy family and that she-monster Grenda. He was the only person in Gravity Falls (or, at least, he assumed he was) to dared admit his love for Pacifica Northwest, a desire that was not reciprocated. Pacifica tolerated him, and had on multiple occasions tried to subtly expel him from the group, but the town's business politics would not permit such a deed, and so Dylan joined them.

The town's most famous teens currently lounged at a small table outside "Sundollars", the towns first and only chain coffee store. Ever since the chain opened up in the 70's, the townspeople begged for the over-priced caffeine stand to grace their presence, and it wasn't until Preston Northwest, as his daughter's request, called up the chain's headquarters did it arrive. Such a deed earned the Northwests more love in the hearts of the townspeople for the next few years, even though the restaurant was tucked into the back corner of the mall.

Pacifica played with the straw sticking out of her low-fat, orange-zest, latte mocha as she pondered the group's next course of action. Her attire was casual for her usual standards: her hair was wrapped in an elegant bun and her make up was done as to which she was custom seen while in public. She wore a white blouse and a pair of black skinny jeans that greatly defined her rump, and a pair of tan heeled boots covered her legs up to mid-calf. She had already purchased a new supply of fall-line make up, ordered a white pea-coat for the cold weather that would surely roll in within the next month, and politely signed an autograph for a much younger girl (She knew that she was famous, but did she seriously have fans?). I could get some new earrings, she mused, I think some studs would look nice with that new scarf, but I also need stuff for next Saturday…

"Something on your mind, Pacifica?" The addressee stopped staring into nowhere from behind her Dior sunglasses and turned to the girl on her left. "You look a little stressed," Audra reset her face on her hand, her brown curls falling over her arm as she stated her comment.

Pacifica sighed. "Just thinking about next weekend," she muttered, her posture falling ever so slight, "I'm going to need a new outfit. I don't own an appropriate black dress."

"Just wear that dress you wore to homecoming," Dylan smiled cockily across from her, "The bare-back and v-neck were so sexy."

An uncomfortable silence followed what Dylan must have assumed was a flirtatious comment. He was lucky that the girl of his lust was wearing sunglasses, because the look she was giving him would have sent any other person into a panic attack. "Dylan," Hank addressed his foolish friend, "What on earth possessed you to believe that a party dress be proper attire for a funeral?" He gently placed down his own black coffee, straightening his blue blazer as he turned to face the jock. "Not only would she be freezing in this cold, but how would that be remotely appropriate?"

As Dylan attempted to sputter out an answer, Tiffany's eyes scanned the mall, searching for something to distract them from this awful situation. C'mon, c'mon, there's got to be something to get us past thi- aha! Her green eyes lit with malicious glee as she nudged her still fuming leader. "Hey Pacifica, brace-face at nine o'clock."

Pacifica slowly turned to see whatever had caught her inferior's eye, and her face immediately drained of color. There, walking towards Sundollar at a leisurely pace, was Mabel Pines, linked arm in arm with her two friends: The hulking figure of Grenda McKarlen, captain of the girl's wrestling team, and Candy Chiu, the hobbit-sized leader of the school's physic's club. The trio was giggling to each other, their volumes changing from whispers to shouts rapidly, and appeared to be completely absorbed in their conversation, so much so that their were blissfully unaware of the many social codes they were soon going to break. And trailing behind them, much to Pacifica's delight, but still horror, was Dipper, looking very much like he'd rather not be there.

The rest of the table looked to where their superior's attention had been drawn, and Pacifica's three other companions smirked. "Well well well," Audra hissed to her friend's ears, "If it isn't the three stooges and the freak. How did they even get past security in those clothes? I mean, who tie-dyes a sweater?" Venomous giggles erupted from Audra and Tiffany, and Hank took it as his queue to add his opinion. "Can't that Pines boy ever wear something other than that trench coat and hat? That dark tan looks positively appalling! And are those.." His eyes narrowed to Dipper's hands, which were currently covered by a pair of extremely bulky, crudely made gloves which appeared to be made of some kind of reptile skin, "Oh my god, those gloves are hideous."

Dylan chuckled darkly, his eyes prying towards Dipper in a dangerous manner. He had heard a lot about the Pines boy being some kind of adrenaline freak, and he had often seen Dipper walk the halls on Monday morning sporting a new bandage or some kind of limp. "Doesn't he have a bunch of weird tattoos?" Dylan whispered to the group, as their new entertainment passed their table and approached the counter, greeting the goth-ish barista. "He always has on some shirt in the locker room, but I know his arms are practically covered in all these little symbols and runes."

Hank grimaced at this, never taking his eyes of that hideous trucker cap. "You are not mistaken, my friend," Hank muttered to the group. "My mom told me about it after he left the hospital last year after he got impaled by…they said it was a tree branch, but it looked a hell of a lot like a spear if you ask me." Hank enjoyed the wide eyes the two girls were giving him, eager to devour this new piece of gossip. A proud smile crossed his face, and he continued with his report. "She said that he has this really big circular tattoo on his chest, and all these snakes running down his back. The tattoos must have been poorly done, because they're all black and look like they've been burned on. My guess his creepy uncle put them on." He paused, taking a sip of his coffee, allowing his theatric training to let the suspense build. He looked straight across to Pacifica, who, despite wearing an expression remained neutral throughout his tale, gave a small nod, permitting him to continue. "The snakes actually spread out from the circle and spread to his back, and they make, like, fire patterns. But the circle," He shuddered for a moment, both for dramatic effect and in memory of the sketch his mother showed him. "It's really big and stretched. There are a bunch of little symbols around the edge. There was a six-fingered hand, a pentagram, some weird hieroglyphs, and in the center," He grabbed a napkin and pulled a pen out of his pocket, making a crude drawing in the blue ink. "This." He pushed the napkin to the center of the table, on which rested a doodle of a triangle with a cat-like eye in the center, a large "X" stretching across the triangle's edges, the two lines meeting on the slit of a pupil. Hank tapped the the lines of the "X". "These were made afterword. He refused to say how it happened, but mom said it looked like it was a dull object, probably a kitchen knife or a razor."

A small gasp came from Pacifica's guard and Dylan, but Pacifica remained silent. She knew for a fact that what covered her boyfriend's back and chest was no tattoo, but an eternal reminder of the Weirdmaggedon five years ago. She remembered how Dipper and Mabel had forced Bill back into his dimension to decay for eternity, but Bill made sure they remembered him. He put the brand on Dipper, nearly incinerating the boy in the process. This not only served as a mark of torment on Dipper, but the eye allowed Bill to look into their dimension like a window, hearing and seeing all that Dipper experienced. She noticed the scars that blinded the demon's image last night, but she assumed that they had always been there, and she didn't ask because… well, she was focused on other things last night.

Dylan snorted. "Well that explains why he never takes of his shirt. The freak must think it's 'too cool' to be flaunted around. I wonder what else he's hiding…" He trailed off as their subject and his own group grabbed their coffee from the counter and sat down at a table not far from them. Dylan couldn't tell if the idiots hadn't noticed the five most popular teens in the town, or if they did but decided to break all rules of social standing. Dipper's back was to them, but Mabel sat across from them, her rhinestone tie-dye sweater glittering in the soft lighting. Dylan glanced at the group, pondering his next move to prove himself to Pacifica. He looked at Hank expectantly, seeking his advice, but all he found was the young gentleman staring at Mabel, not entirely in disapproval. Dylan turned to admire his own beloved who, unlike the rest of the group, was typing something into her phone, still wearing her slightly-peeved poker face. Dylan made up his mind, and turned in his seat to face the lower-class group.

"Hey Pines, wanna tell us about you're freaky tattoo?"

The three girls at the other table ceased their chattering immediately, the medium-sized brunette's eye's wide with shock staring at them over her brother's shoulder, and Dipper slowly turned in his seat to face the larger teen. Dipper's expression was a mixture of fear, anger, and utter bewilderment. Mabel locked eyes with Pacifica, shocked that her brother's girlfriend would tell her possy about something so painful for Dipper. Pacifica's eyes darted to Mabel, sending a quick message that she was not responsible, and began to burn with hatred as they landed on Dylan, who was smiling wickedly at Dipper as he stuttered out a response.

"I-uh, I-I don't know what your talking about." Dipper looked like he wanted to cry and stab Dylan, but this only added fuel to the fire.

"Yes you do! The one with the triangle and snakes. Was that old freak drunk when he welcomed you into his cult, or was that the only way to get Rosie to approach you to give you some ink?"

The rest of the customer's had directed their attention to the nine teens, perplexed by this new commotion. Tambrey looked like she was ready to leap over the counter and come to her friend's defense, but Mabel beat her to it.

"Hey butt-face!" Mabel shouted at the adolescent boy, "Go pick on someone else!"

"Yeah!" Grenda shouted, her voice booming through the restaurant, "Don't make me break you like a twig!"

The She-hulk's words did little more than cause his ears pain, but Dylan knew better than to get in a fight with her. "Hey braces, lizard girl, how about you let this guy take care himself?" Dylan jeered as Tiffany and Audra giggled wickedly. He smirked over his shoulder to Hank, whom he was surprised to see had donned a mortified expression. Dylan shrugged it off, enjoying brining this kid's ego to his knees.

Dipper closed his eyes and took a deep breath, attempting to steady his nerves. After a moment, he faced his adversary with false pleasantly spreading across his face, a mocking smile bending his scars. "I must admit the tattoo parlor is not a place that I frequent, and the markings on my arms are of my uncle's penmanship," he mused to Dylan in a relaxed tone, wondering if the consequences to his next sentence would be worth it, "But I must surrender to your boldness. Most people can't pull of facial tattoos in such a… unique manner." Mabel's mouth stopped displaying her teeth like a cat and turned into a small "o", the corner's of her mouth curling slightly as she tried to contain her laughter. Candy and Grenda were also attempting to hide their giggles behind their hands as Dylan looked at Dipper, completely baffled by his statement.

"I don't have facial tattoos, genius."

Dipper's eyebrows shot up in mock surprise. As Mabel, Candy, and Grenda shook in their seats from silent laughter, Dipper allowed mouth dropped open to let his fake sympathy drip out, and he stretched out a hand as if to comfort Dylan while delivering terrible news.

"Oh," Dipper said in a stage whisper so that all in the quiet coffee shop could hear, leaning forward with a face of false pity, "That's quite unfortunate."

Dipper's sister and two friends exploded with laughter behind him. Several of the customers near them made stifled giggles at the teen's comment. Audra and Tiffany looked at Dipper in shock, Hank's hands were currently over his mouth, and Pacifica placed her sunglasses on the table while wearing a very pleased smirk.

Dylan, however, did not take it as well as the surrounding crowd. Rather than accepting defeat, he leapt to his feet, staring down at Dipper with eyes blazing with wrath. He leered down at the Pines boy, his mouth twisted in a furious sneer. "You maybe want to take that back?" he hissed through gritted teeth, mapping out his next move. "I'm afraid I can't," smiled up Dipper, "Lying is not one of my greater skills."

Dylan snatched Dipper by his collar and slammed him against the wall, the brown-filter pictures shaking. Several of the patrons of the coffee shop jumped out of their seats and dashed out, desperate to get away from the soon-to-be fight. Mabel leapt to her feet to defend her brother, but was held back by her two friends, both of whom didn't want her to get into legal trouble.

"Oi!" Tambrey shouted from behind the counter, "Stop it right now or I WILL call security!"

Dylan ignored the barista's warning and looked down at Dipper, his face as red as a gnome's cap. "I'll tell my father about this," he growled at the shorter boy, who was greatly regretting his former actions. "Your family will be out of the bank. Your property will be ours, your possessions will be ours. Everything you own will be ours."

Dipper gulped, well aware that his threat was empty. Grunkle Stan didn't trust banks due to the fact that they were way too hard to scam (better trust the words of a con on that one), and so all the elder Pines' twins funds could be found in the Mystery Shack safe or certain uncharted areas of the woods. But still, this didn't change the fact that Dipper was currently being held against a wall by the human equivalent of an Manotaur. Dylan pressed Dipper further into the wall, and his wrath was temporarily broken by strange red marks he saw through Dipper's bangs.

"Well what is that?" Dylan muttered with glee as he found something new about which he could torment his victim.

Dipper went pale when he realized that the steep view to Dylan's face was unbroken by a familiar blue brim. It appeared that, while being lifted from his seat, Dipper's trademark hat had fallen off his head, living his birthmark semi-exposed.

"Is that…" Dylan pushed the bangs up, revealing the constellation on Dipper's forehead, "It is! Well aren't you just a little abhorrence."

Pacifica had had enough. Being no longer stunned by the past few minutes' events, she pushed back her chair and marched to the duo, ready to rain hell on Dylan. Her eye's darted to Mabel briefly to ensure that she would not be stopped, but she halted when she saw the extroverted teen's face. Mabel and her two captors looked paralyzed with horror, their eyes all locked on Dipper. Pacifica turned to see what was the source of their fear was, and turning back towards her boyfriend, became frozen just like them. Dipper's mouth had turned from one gritted in terror to one twisted into something between a snarl and a skeleton's grin. His face appeared stretched like a tanning hide, and his eyes, his eyes!

His pupils had stretched lengthwise, rendering them nearly like lizard slits. His brown irises still were around their perimeters, but the arteries on the sides of his bulging eyeballs had began to glow electric blue. A faint yellow glow was coming from them and it was growing brighter by the second. His eyes remained round, not fully turning into the shape of the eye branded on his chest.

If Dylan hadn't become aware of Dipper's change, he became well aware of it in the next few seconds. Dipper grabbed Dylan by the throat and spun him against the wall, making a slight *crack* echo through the building as the back of Dylan's head made a small dent in the wood behind him. "Do you wanna now something interesting about that tattoo?" Dipper hissed, his face no longer holding any glee but only pure rage, "It wasn't the only thing he left me to remember him by. I've got a bit of him in me now, and it really likes to show up when I GET PISSED OFF!" Dipper pushed Dylan up the wall until Dipper's arm was fully extended, the fact that Dylan was seventy pounds heaver than he irrelevant. Dipper brought his free hand to his mouth and he bit down on his dragon-hide glove, pulling it off with his teeth. His hand, formerly noted for its many scars and burns, was now riddled with some form of writing, mostly circular with long tails branching out from the loops. "You like it?" Dipper waved his hand in Dylan's face, the writing beginning to glow blood red, "Despite that most of my tattoos are professionally done, my uncle did make these. You gotta get the daemon speech just right, or things may go up in flames. Maybe…" Dipper's mouth stretched into that horrible smile again, and he lowered Dylan just enough that his mouth could reach Dylan's ear. "Maybe you will too."

"Dipper, stop."

Dipper whipped around to face whoever dared interrupt him from his revenge, but only found himself staring into enchanting blue eyes. Dipper knew those eyes. They seemed to be coming through a black haze, but he knew them. Those eyes…loved him. They comforted him. They cared about him. Pacifica placed a perfectly-manicured hand on Dipper's arm, those eyes pleading for him.

"Dipper, let him go."

Dipper's eyes changed back to their original shape and color, and his expression dropped to one of a man coming out of a fog. Dipper lowered Dylan back to the floor and released his hand from his victim's throat, never looking away from those eyes.. Dylan crumpled at Dipper's feet dazed, coughing and rubbing the bruise forming on the back of his skull. "Paz…" Dipper murmured, still staring at those eyes in confusion, not entirely sure of his past deeds. Pacifica stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Dipper, pulling him into a hug. "Yes, it's me Dip. He's not here. He's gone, you and Mabel got rid of him." Dipper began to tremble, tears forming at the edges of his eyes. He gingerly wrapped his arms around her as if she were a china doll, and she let him gently cry into her $500 blouse.

Pacifica made eye contact with Mabel over Dipper's shoulder, and her eyes darted from Mabel, to Dylan, and back to Mabel. The brunette, quickly understanding the message, reaching into her home-made purse and pulled out a long, white, smooth stick, and she stepped to Dylan in three strides, gently tapping him with the bleached wand. Dylan's eyes became glazed and his breathing eased, the bruises at his throat fading. Mabel then also tapped the wall that Dipper cracked, and it looked as good as new. And with that, Mabel repaired her brother's damage, a role he usually filled for her.

Dipper clutched Pacifica closer, his body still shaking. He sobbed harder into her shoulder, terrified of the memories quickly washing over him. "He w-w-was here," he stuttered, his tears choking him, "He t-t-ook control."

"He can't Dip," Pacifica whispered to him, well aware of the people staring at them. "He's rotting in hell right now. You saved us." She loosened her grip on him and looked into his brown eyes. "You save me."

He sighed and his body relaxed as he looked into those familiar blue eyes, the eyes he wanted to see for the rest of his life…

Pacifica placed a kiss on his lips, wanting to ensure her love was completely healed. Dipper responded with great vigor, pulling her closer, wanting there to be no separation between the two. She moved her arms up as to free his arms, her hands holding on to the back of his neck. Pacifica smirked into the kiss at her boyfriend's boldness as he lowered a hand to her waistline, but she allowed the display of affection. They had already gone past the point of no-return.

A small cough interrupted their affection, and the two separated, both becoming significantly aware of the other seven people in the coffee shop. Mabel shuffled her shoes awkwardly, her eyes trying to look every but at her brother and his girlfriend, a fight she was struggling to win. Grenda's arms were crossed over her chest, an unfazed but annoyed expression crossing her rough features. Candy's mouth was still open from shock, but the flash from her phone's camera was enough to tell that her brain was functioning just as fast as usual. Pacifica turned to look at her possy, her arms still holding Dipper. Audra and Tiffany looked thunderstruck, and Hank was nowhere to be found. The two girl's eyes darted to their superior's, unsure what to make of this breech in social norm. Pacifica rested her head on Dipper's shoulder and stared daggers at her two lackeys, daring them to think any less of her.

"Alright, enough." Tambrey had emerged from behind the counter, her face devoid of any joy (as per usual). "I've already called security and they'll be here momentarily. I don't know what's taking them," she grumbled, guessing that they had stopped at the meat stand, "But they're coming to collect the trouble maker." She pointed at the still glassy-eyed Dylan as she said this, her expression turning to annoyance. "I'd rather not get you two in trouble, and you fixed the wall, so…just leave."

Dipper still seemed a bit groggy from the whole incident, so Pacifica stepped in. "Thank you, Tambrey. Here," she said, pulling a few hundred dollar bills from her purse, "Take this." Tambrey waved it off with a hand and walked back around the counter, pulling out the phone. "No thanks, he's fine and the wall is alright, buuuuuuut," Tambrey's eyes widened as she looked at her phone, and she pointed her phone's screen at the two, "It appears #Pacifica'sBF is trending…"

Pacifica grimaced as she saw the picture of Dipper and herself on the social media, the number of views and shares increasing before her eyes. "Well there goes secrecy…" she muttered, Dipper sighing in shame. "I'm sorry, Paz," he mumbled at the floor, "It's my fault-"

Pacifica whipped around to look at Dipper, a harsh look on her face. "Dipper Pines, you are not at fault. Last time I checked, Dylan was the one being a dick to you." She locked eyes with him again, her expression softening. "I'm not mad at you."

Dipper smiled at her weakly, and he pulled her into another hug. "Thanks babe." He murmured in her ear, running his fingers down her back.

"Well!" said Mabel, clasping her hands together as to prevent any more PDA, "We better get out of here before the mall cops get us! Come, mystery twi- wait," Mabel pointed at each of them in turn, counting out their number. "There are five of us…Candy!" she did a one-eighty to face her spectacled friend, "What would you call a group of five people?"

"A quintet?"

"That works! Come Mystery Quintet!"

As they left, Pacifica opened her mouth to point out that she was the only one who played a string instrument, but Dipper spoke before her. "Uh, Mabel," he started, anxiously rubbing the back of his head, "Do you mind if I go back to the Shack? That whole thing just," he shook his head, "Didn't feel good."

Mabel pouted, "But we just got her, bro-bro! We can't go yet!"

Pacifica smiled at them. "Mabel, I'll take him back home. You keep shopping."

Mabel beamed at her. "Thanks Pacifica!" The three girls bounded off to who knows where, eager to complete their wardrobes.

Dipper laced his fingers through Pacifica's, a sly smile covering his face. "So you'll take me back to the Mystery Shack?"

"Yep."

"And stay with me to make sure I'm better?"

"Yep."

"And tolerate both Stan and Ford being in the same building?"

"Well when you put it like that," Pacifica said, turning to her boyfriend, who's face was filling with dread. "I'm kidding, Dip." She smiled at him, enjoying her slight teasing. "I just think we should spend our time away from those two."

Dipper cocked an eyebrow. "You mean, like, per say, in the attic?" he said, his voice bathed in gentlemanly charm.

"M-hm."

"Well then, Miss Northwest, I would be honored to have you as a guest."

"Oh shut up!" Pacifica's arms coiled around Dipper faster than he though possible, and he felt her quickly peck his lips.

"Hey, there they are!"

The couple jerked around to look over their shoulders, and saw two green-clad Gravity Mall's security officers not far behind them, riding segways at a snail's pace.

"Run?"

"Run."

The two sprinted towards the exit of the mall, hands still tightly clasped together, laughing all the way to Pacifica's scooter.