As you may know, one of our beloved shows is coming to an end. To commemorate that fact, I have decided to write this lil one-shot. It's full of goodness and weirdness in equal measure.
If anyone knows why I chose 110 as the number, they get a virtual cookie.
Disclaimer: I don't own Gravity Falls or Danny Phantom.
Dipper Pines ran beneath the trees, one hand up and clutching his hat to his head. He had to run, he had to hide, he had to get away-
He had to warn Mabel.
Oh, why had he thought that it was a good idea to venture this deep into the forest with nothing but Great-Uncle Ford's third journal for company? Why had he dismissed Mabel's offer to accompany him, to assist him in finding Creature #110? Why hadn't he let Ford come with him?
Maybe if Dipper had, he wouldn't be running from something that he couldn't see.
Thunder rumbled in the distance-oh, boy, just what Dipper needed. More tension in the atmosphere.
An inhuman wail rang through the woods, and Dipper fell down over a tree root in surprise. He tumbled head over heels into a ditch full of muddy water and wet leaves. One was plastered to his forehead by a thorn, which Dipper pulled out with a wince.
The cry sounded again, echoing and screeching like some sort of deathly cry. It was worse than Bill Cipher's laughter, worse than any demonic chant or scream. It was more hypnotizing than siren song, and more devastating than an enchanted knife.
It dug into your brain and sliced through your skull, drawing out your deepest fears and toying with their implications.
It drove Dipper insane.
But he had to keep running. He couldn't let the creature find him, rip out his heart and devour his innards. That was what the journal warned him of, what Ford's hastily scrawled notes in the margins of his neat lettering told him to avoid at all costs.
Maybe if his sister were here, they might have stood a fighting chance. Brawns and brian, the same way that the two siblings always fought. Dipper and Mabel could work together in perfect tandem, the way that twins were meant to. It was almost uncanny, the way that they could communicate with each other without any need for verbal speaking. Sometimes it made their parents wonder if there were such a thing as twin telepathy after all.
But she wasn't. Mabel wasn't here, and she couldn't get here in time even if she somehow knew what was happening to him. What was chasing him. Dipper was all alone, alone with nothing but a journal and his wits.
And even that might not be enough to keep him alive now.
It would take a miracle to-
The wail grated on his eardrums again, but this time it was different.
It was deeper, less of a high-pitched noise and more of a low moan that was loud enough to shake the earth. And there was one other, far more major difference.
The sound was coming from in front of him.
Two. There were two. Of course there had to be two.
Dipper kept running.
The creature awoke.
His neon green eyes fluttered open behind pale-skinned eyelids, onyx-black pupils contracting inside of them. Long claws attached to slender fingers pressed against his prison, thick cracks spreading from their razor sharp tips.
Lips pulled back slightly to reveal sharp teeth, with canines long enough to be fangs. A pale forked tongue flicked over them, running their white length in its entirety.
Tattered clothing ripped even further as his body began to curl in on itself before pushing outward, glowing energy like green flames curling up and down his arms, legs, and torso. A material like shards of ice stabbed out, stabbing into the bubble that surrounded him. The bubble itself began split, the ice pushing it apart like a baby bird hatching from an egg.
The skin on his body became translucent before the muscles and finally the bones followed, each layer that peeled away revealing the one beneath it. He threw back his head and let out a scream that was low enough to shatter the material of his prison, ripping it away as if it were made of feathers. One word rang through his head, repeating over and over again as he began to lift up into the air, through the damp soil that had covered his jail.
F̶̨̢r͟e̵e̴͝.̶̷͠
He was free, finally free. But that meant-
That meant that his warden must have been free too.
He started to run, or at least he thought that he was running. His feet weren't actually touching the ground. Instead, he was flying, swooping low through the trees in search of his warden.
That was when he heard the howl.
It came from his warden, it must have come from his warden. That was the sound that they made when they picked up the scent of their prey. When they moved in for the kill.
Which meant that somewhere out there, someone was being hunted.
No, he couldn't have that.
He had to help them, he had to p̢ŗ͝ơt̢̀e͜c͢͞t̛͠ ̷t͢h̸em̛͝.҉
That was when he let out his own cry, screaming his challenge to his warden, for his jailer, to come out and face him. To find him and try to put him away again, try to seal him beneath the earth again, away from all human contact.
"̸Vę̵n̷i̴t̸͏e̸͢,̴͟ ͘҉e̛͢͠t͠͡ ҉͘f̢a͏̸c͏͏i̡em ̷͜m̧e͏̀ ̢͠i̛̕͟m̵m̶ór̨̢t̵͜͢a̷li ̧h̷̛os͢͞t͘̕ę́m̸͠.͢͝ ̧͢͟A҉̛͡n͘ ̡͘ǹ̢i͘͏mí̛͢ù͝͞m̨҉ ̢̢i͢͢g̨na̛v̷̴ús̶͞ ̶à̵ḑ̡͝v̵̨̕e̵̡r͞͞sum̀͠ m̷e̕ ̡̢R̴͜e̡͘x͘ ̧͜s̶͝u̵m͏̷ ҉̡a̵͜n͢im̛a͠͏r̴͝u҉҉m ̢h͜ǫ͞min̨u҉̧̀m ̛͠s̛a͏l̛v̵atǫr͟. ͘V̛͡e͠n҉i̸͢t҉e̡͠͝,̢̨ ̡e̶͟t̸ f̨aci҉҉e̴͘͜m͟͝ ̢͟͡m͏̢́ȩ̡am̵̡.͟ V̸̧e͏́͠n͘i͏tè͜҉, ͝é̸̕t̛́ ͏͞f̵̕̕àc̸i͢e̡m̸ ̸̧meá̧m͠!.̴"͡
That is when he sees the child.
He's running, faster, he knows, than he's ever run in his life. There's terror in his wide brown eyes and fear etched deeply into every line on his youthful face.
They see each other, and the boy (̢͟Pi͜n̨͏e̶ T̢͞ŕe͢ę͞)͏ starts to scream. There are words and feverish prayers mixed in, and he can sense that the child doesn't want to die.
He can also feel the strong tie that this boy has with another. A family-bond, the kind not easily broken, one that he shares with his sister. It's bound by magic and spells so ancient that there is not a single sigil that he can recognize, not a single etched symbol that he can ever recall seeing in all his years (centuries and millennia, decades and eons) of living and dying.
And he can see his warden.
Claws and fire and ice and fangs, wings the size of the space between stars spreading and folding.
And there is only one thought on his mind.
P̡͔̱̖̗͚̟͍͇͆ͮ̃̓͒ͪ̒ͩ̎͌̀̀̕͠r̛̅̊̊̈́҉̧͏̪̙̲͍̻̟ö̷̻̺̥̱͇̪̯͙̫̜͙̹̤̻̗̬̮́ͭ͛͐̒ͭͩͫͨͯ͐͐̂̇͒̔͜ͅt̴ͨ̎ͥ̒ͪ̐̕͟͏̣̼̳͕̱͚̙̩̹ȇ̴̶̦͇̹̲̦̗͔̦͈̬̫̬̯̼͎͇̳̿͐͊͛ͮ͡ͅç̛̭͙̫͔͔̙̮̻͕͎͉̰͖̱̜ͮ̽ͧ̅ͤͤ͡t̛̔̆̑ͬ̈̐̊̎͑͌͒̚͘͝҉̼͇̳͉̹̺͍͕̲̰̬͖̣̣̱.
So he attacks, and the boy runs, and
he
is
safe
to
protect.
"Hey, Dippin' Dot. You never said what happened to you while you were in the woods this morning."
"It's not important."
Welcome
to
kingdom
come.