I do not own Gravity Falls.

I think the rating might be bumped to a 'T' for this chapter. Because Krampus, and he's not very...pleasant, ha ha.

Prompt: Krampus

Legend of Krampus

Pacifica sat glumly in Lazy Susan's diner, using a spoon to swirl the contents of her hot chocolate around her cracked mug. It was pale in colour and lackluster in taste, but the life of exotic teas and imported Swiss cocoa had been gone for over a year. It was something she had yet to get used to, and doubted she ever would.

A brunette blur suddenly swung into her line of vision and Pacifica jumped, dropping the spoon in surprise. Mabel leaned in front of her, so close they were almost nose to nose. "You're frowning," she accused, poking at the blonde's creased brow. "You shouldn't be frowning on Christmas!"

Scowling, Pacifica batted away the girl's hand. "Hello, ever hear of personal space?"

Mabel moved back, allowing her room to breathe. "What's wrong?" she pressed.

"What's wrong?" repeated Pacifica bitterly. "I'll tell you what's wrong. I'm drinking cheap tasteless hot chocolate from a cup that's probably not even washed correctly."

Mabel blinked. "So what?"

Pacifica rolled her eyes and slouched against the back of the ripped booth. "You wouldn't understand," she said with a sigh. "You don't know anything but this life. I was raised in luxury and extravagance, only to have it all ripped away. You don't know how pitiful it is to have presents under only one Christmas tree."

Cluing in to the source of Pacifica's misery, Mabel stared in exasperation. "Come on, Paz. You should be grateful for what you have. So you have a smaller house and can't have as much as you used to. You still have a lot more than some people do. Besides, Christmas isn't about things."

"I've watched and read A Christmas Carol, thanks," drawled Pacifica.

"Then how about we watch a Christmas movie you haven't seen?" countered Mabel. "It's Christmas Central at the Shack. It'll be fun!"

"Fine," sniffed Pacifica, inwardly annoyed at how quickly she answered. "Not like I have anything better to do these days."

The jab easily rolling off of Mabel's shoulders, the brunette grabbed Pacifica's hand. The blonde had enough time to throw a handful of change onto the table to pay for her half-finished drink before she was pulled away in a whirlwind.

"Slow down! These boots are not made for running!"

Mabel did not listen, not that Pacifica was surprised. They came to halt at the long dirt path leading to the Mystery Shack and Pacifica took a moment to catch her breath. She regarded the white lights that snaked along the edge of the roof and the cardboard cut-outs of Santa Claus, reindeer and elves that were stuck firmly in the ground.

"It's not shiny enough. How are you going to catch people's attention with only a few strands of lights?"

"It's a house, Princess. I ain't tryin' to land airplanes."

Pacifica flinched against the teasing ruffle of her hair, hastily patting the blonde strands back into place. Mabel cast a smile at Stan and said, "We're going to watch a Christmas movie."

"Good luck. The television is currently being commanded by the Nerd Patrol." Stan set the bag of salt on the porch. "You're gonna have to wait a bit."

"No problem," said Mabel cheerfully. "We can have Christmas cookies."

"I don't recall saying I wanted Christmas cookies," pointed out Pacifica. "Besides, they are way too sugary."

"We've got snowflake and Santa cookies. Come on!"

Mabel flounced into the house and Pacifica glared after her, uncertain if the girl was purposefully ignoring her or was just being oblivious.

"Oi," called Stan, lingering in the door. "You have five seconds to get in before I lock you out."

Pacifica rolled her eyes and strode into the house. She neatly took off her boots and coat and went into the living room. She sneered at what Ford and Dipper were watching (a Christmas-themed episode of Ghost Harassers) before taking in the abundance of Christmas decorations.

"There's too many bells. Who needs that many bells? Your tree is too small, and it's not even coordinated. Again, there's not enough lights. Green and red garland is so tacky. Where's silver and blue?"

Without looking away from the television, Dipper demanded, "Mabel, why did you bring Scrooge home with you?"

Pacifica sniffed. "It's not my fault you have no taste."

"I'm trying to cheer her up," replied Mabel, coming into the living room with two plates of cookies.

"Cheer her up?" echoed Dipper. "What, did she get a notice that Santa was skipping her house?"

"Well, he did last year," grumbled Pacifica, taking the plate Mabel offered her. "Why would it change this year?"

"She's hasn't quite adjusted to the above-middle-class lifestyle," clarified Mabel. "She's only got one tree with presents instead of three."

"Good grief," reacted Dipper.

"It's not just the presents," defended Pacifica. "It's everything. My stocking is smaller, our decorations are almost as pitiful as yours and we only go to one showing of the orchestra Christmas spectacular. The holidays used to be amazing. Now they're just…boring."

Ford, who had been listening intently to the highly privileged girl's rant, finally turned his head to regard her. "You know, if you don't curb your attitude, you'll be getting a visit from Krampus instead of Santa Claus."

From his position against the wall, Stan arched an eyebrow. Dipper and Mabel exchanged curious glances and Pacifica eyed Ford suspiciously. "What's a Krampus?"

"Krampus is a half-goat half-demon being who travels with Saint Nicholas to the houses of children all over the world. He is the anti-Santa, you could say."

"That's stupid," scoffed Pacifica, though there was a sudden hint of unease in her eyes at the mention of a demon counterpart to Santa Claus.

Ford shrugged. "I suspect you won't think he's so stupid when he pays your house a visit."

"What does Krampus do?" asked Mabel.

"As Santa rewards nice children, Krampus punishes the naughty. He carries sticks of birch with which he swats misbehaving children with. Children who have been truly bad and cruel get stuffed in his sack and taken away to his lair, where he tortures them until they change their ways. Myth says that he may even eat them."

Dipper grimaced. "Ugh. That's awful."

Pacifica unconsciously gripped the diamond Christmas tree charm hanging around her neck, stomach swooping in an almost sickening motion. "Yeah, it's messed up," she muttered, trying to maintain her cool expression. "But Krampus isn't real."

"Much like fairies, gnomes and unicorns, hmm?"

Pacifica faltered. When she didn't offer a rebuttal, Ford turned his attention back to the television and remarked, "Perhaps the most horrifying is what happens to the children who lose the Christmas spirit. Their families, their towns, are dragged to the pits of the underworld. The only survivor is the one who brought Krampus in the first place, where they spend the rest of their lives haunted by nightmares no one will ever believe, and the guilt that is all-consuming and never goes away."

Eyes widening, Pacifica turned to Mabel and said hastily, "You said something about a Christmas movie. Do you have A Christmas Carol?"

"Only about a dozen adaptions," said Mabel cheerfully. "Come on, I'll show you."

As the kids went to browse Mabel's extensive holiday film collection, Stan moved forwards to lean against the back of the armchair. "Krampus?" he said in amusement.

Ford glanced at his brother. "She's spoiled and entitled, but she's a good kid. People use the legend of Krampus to frighten children into behaving and being generous. I thought Pacifica would benefit from it."

"You didn't mention to Princess that Krampus is a German folktale."

"Eh. I didn't think it was prudent to mention."