For what it counts, I'm "sorry". I'm currently very grouchy and sick, and you know me. Everything in my head is DP, but currently I've been hanging with every Bipper of the century, so, you know. Two crossovers in less than a week, and both of them are utter pieces of trash. Except I like the idea. Nobody else probably will. I'm headcannoning this so hard I think I'm going to break, and probably nobody else is going to care. There are so little of us here, with the Gravity Falls/Danny Phantom fandom. Nobody cares but me. I probably won't even care once I quit being sick and miserable. I'll just leave this here then.

For the record, I think telling you what you already know is dumb, but I don't own Gravity Falls or Danny Phantom. If you want the idea, take it, spread it. Be free, anybody who cares! Just tell me if you do anything for it because I want to read/view/appreciate it. In fact, let me obsess over your every movement if you so much as touch the idea with a ten foot pole.

ENJOY!

Dipper couldn't believe it when he found the note. He had just known there was something up with Grunkle Stan. He was hiding something from them, and Dipper was determined to find out.

Just an innocent little slip of paper, folded up a couple times, lying on the floor of Grunkle Stan's bedroom, obviously pushed aside by a foot or a broom, thought unimportant. It was yellowed from age, and had a couple wrinkled spots from previous wetness, like raindrops...or tears. It was torn and fragile, felt like it would crumple to dust under Dipper's fingers, so he unfolded it gingerly, gently, and with care.

The ink was smudged, and the handwriting messy, but Dipper recognized the penmanship instantly. The Author's. The paper felt the same as the paper of the Journals', except a tad frailer. The page was nearly blank, which puzzled Dipper, because if it was a page out of the Journal, shouldn't it have information of the supernatural?

The page had been ripped, but carefully, which was odd, because Dipper didn't think Grunkle Stan or Gideon would take a page out of a Journal, and even if they did, they would probably cut it out, right? Besides, why would they fold it up afterwards and toss it on the floor for Dipper to just find? Maybe it had been that way already, tucked inside one of the Journals, and Gideon or Stan hadn't noticed it falling out.

Dipper investigated what little writing there was on the page. It was a list. A list of names.

Sam

Tucker

Jazz

Valerie

Maddie

Jack

Dash

Kwan

Paulina

Star

Mikey

Nathan

Pamela

...

Is that really all I can remember? Thirteen people, thirteenhumans, that's it?

The rest of the page appeared blank. Dipper knew better. He folded the page back up carefully and tucked it into his vest pocket, sticking his head out into the hallway to make sure Stan wasn't around to see Dipper come out of his room. Nobody was there. Dipper crept out of the room and practically sprinted up the stairs, just barely avoiding being seen by Soos.

Dipper dropped to his stomach, digging under his bed until his fingers grazed the black light. He locked his fingers around it and slid it out from under the bed. Without hesitation, he opened his and Mabel's shared closet and shut himself inside, desperate for any semblance of privacy that would fend off his paranoia. He switched on the black light, and the aged page lit up with faintly purple words.

I always knew thirteen was an unlucky number. I'm starting to lose my mind. I can only remember the names of thirteen humans from then. Seriously, what the hell Clockwork. You promised if I accepted the duty of being your stupid apprentice, you'd always get me out of the worst situations. Well, this counts by even the most skewed standards. I'm half a century in the past, genetically mutated, and being haunted by a dream demon, who's slowly stealing my memories one by one. I can only remember something close to thirty names from my own time line, and over half of them aren't human. I started writing this stupid journal because I figure that somebody is going to need all these secrets one day.

The very least you could have done is warn me about Bill. When I gave up hope of you pulling me out of this mess, of course I looked for another way out. Who wouldn't? How was I supposed to know Bill was a demon? Now every day I become closer and closer to insanity, and if you're waiting for me to stop looking for a way back to my family, you should know better. Until Bill takes my very last memory, my last connection to Amity, I'll keep trying. So if you're going to do something, do it now. Because if you don't, when I get back, I'm claiming Pariah's throne just to ruin you.

YOU DID THIS TO ME! I'M STUCK HALF A CENTURY BACK IN TIME BECAUSE OFYOU! EVERYTHING I KNOW OF THAT LIFE IS SLIPPING THROUGH MY FINGERS AND STRAIGHT INTO A DREAM DEMON'S HEAD. Bill's draining everything, even my halfa power. He's getting addicted to it. And what will happen when he drains my last drop. Will he salvage my memories of Vlad and Danielle and go after them next? They don't deserve that, and you know it, with all your mumbo jumbo and disobeying the Observants, you know more than anything that nobody, NOT EVEN ME, deserves to be sucked dry by Bill. I shudder to think what will happen when he finds an all-human host, not just half, like me.

Dipper's fingers were shaking. So many questions were whirling through his head, but above all, what could Bill have done to him, really, if he'd had the body any longer? What was the Author? Half human? Time travel? What was Clockwork? What was a halfa? What were the things the Author remembered that weren't human?

Dipper carefully flipped the page over to the back, finding even more invisible text. Dipper hadn't looked at the back earlier, in normal light, assuming it was blank. It wasn't. There was something scrawled there, in small, cramped handwriting, but obviously there. Dipper couldn't read it under the bigger, angrier purple text, but when he got done reading the invisible text; he'd get a real light source and read it.

I've found so many secrets of this weird little town, Gravity Falls, looking for a way back to my time. Why this town was even established, well, I can understand why "Quentin Trembly the Third" was kicked out of office, because you'd have to be insane to settle somewhere remotely close to a forest packed as full with supernatural monstrosities as the one near Gravity Falls is.

I don't think there's a supernatural creature I've heard of that isn't somewhere near Gravity Falls. Vampires, werewolves, goblins, gremlins, gnomes, mermaids, centaurs and their variations. What the heck is the purpose of a Manatuar, anyway? Besides making fun of my masculinity, of course. Remembering things like the Gremoblin, sometimes even I get scared in the forest, before remembering that I'm probably the scariest thing for miles. Besides Bill.

Cipher manipulated the fabric of the universe to what? To give me an extra finger? He pulled me from my time and back into his by accident, and he didn't even realize he'd done anything. By summoning him, I alerted him of his mistake, and he fixes it how? With an extra finger on my left hand. I tried to cut it off, and that's the extra terrifying part. It turned intangible,against my will. I can't get rid of it, and why did Cipher give it to me in the first place.

Three years a halfa and I'm starting to believe that I've seen everything bad out there and my nightmares can't get any worse than they were already. Of course the universe had to go and prove me wrong, right? I get sucked back sixty five years into the past by a demon, and later possessed by the same demon. Every. Single. Night. Bill is the definition of a nightmare. Bill is THE nightmare. And every night I sleep, he gets another memory, another moment of my life. I'm staying up days at a time, but there's only so much time left for me to escape before I forget everybody. Before I forget Amity.

There's only so much time to escape before I go completely insane.

I miss them, those thirteen people. I miss Vlad and Danielle too. Heck, I miss modern technology. Writing everything out is giving me really strong hands. So is fighting off supernatural creatures left and right. As if the constant ghost attacks weren't enough, now I have to deal with all of this other stuff. It doesn't help that the townspeople here are even more oblivious to everything than the people of Amity.

I'm going to run out of time soon. Ever since Bill found the memories of Dan...I can't sleep. I try not to sleep ever, with Bill around, but to survive to live another day, get a few more hours to search for a solution, I need to. The problem is, I don't feel like I'm benefiting at all. All I dream of is Bill winning the mental battle just once, gaining control of my body as I slept. Vlad, a fairly good person, turned sour because of a minuscule amount of halfa power, and I shudder to think of what Bill could reap with it.

I've got, what, four years of memory left? If I can find a way out of this before then, I'll somehow get it back. I will. I'll hold onto every strand I can get, find my way back to Amity in theright time period, and get my friends, Sam, Tucker, Jazz, to tell me what I'm missing. To answer my biggest question: What is the significance of the name Fenton? It's everywhere in my memories,but what does it mean?

I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO! I'm just a kid. I'm barely eighteen. I'm not supposed to be here. I'm not supposed to face these kinds of demons. My biggest fear right now should be if the college of my dreams is going to except me. I should be counting the days until summer break, not until I lose my last memory of my past - future - life. I should be worrying about the answers to my next test, not if I'm going to lose a mental battle with a demon next time I doze off.

I'm beginning to think there's no way back.

The page ended there, and Dipper hadn't realized his entire body was trembling until now. The Author...was eighteen? The Author wasn't human. Who were these people mentioned? Sixty five years in the past? Had the Author found a way back to the present? Back to wherever "Amity" was? Was he nineteen, twenty years old? Was the person with all the secrets to Gravity Falls still around, and...young?

More importantly, what did he know about Bill?

Dipper slowly unfolded himself from where he was practically fetal position, wrapped around the fragile little sheet with more information about the Author than the entirety of Journal 3. He reached for the doorknob, and his fingers fumbled twice before he could release the knob and push the door open. He...he needed to share this with Mabel. He needed to do some research.

Did Stan know about this sheet? Probably not, since it was on his bedroom floor, kicked into the corner. Dipper's uncle was a lot of things, but even he wouldn't hide such a valuable piece of insight into the Author's mind in the corner with dirt, where anybody could find it and pick it up. He probably hadn't known about it, but that left the question...did Gideon know?

As far as Dipper knew, Gideon had never expressed any interest in finding out who the Author was. He'd never given Dipper any clue to any piece of information, but that didn't mean he didn't know about the page. It was very unlikely he'd ever let this page get out of his sight, if he knew about it, but just in case, Dipper was going to keep it somewhere safe. Somewhere where the insane psychic couldn't find it. Ever.

Dipper glanced down at the almost blank page, now that it was out of reach from the black light's rays. Four words, inscribed at the top of the page, in small, tiny writing. Dipper had to squint to read them, and he almost wished he hadn't. But, at the same time, they filled his with desperate hope.

My name is Phantom.

Is anybody else craving roasted marshmallows right now? I am. Plus, my family loves Chinese food, but nobody likes the fortune cookies, so there are like twelve fortune cookies staring at me right now because nobody's bothered to throw away/eat them, 'cause we like the fortunes but the cookies taste like cardboard. I'm debating eating one. I know I'll regret it, so I don't know why I want to eat one so badly, but I do.

My fortune was: You will be coming into fortune, and seriously cookie? Seriously? I don't know if that's, like, a forced pun, or whatever, but seriously? Oh look, everybody has stopped reading this author's note by now. I can divulge all the secrets of the universe now.

I'm tired and sick and angry and sad for no reason. And my fortune cookie tastes worse than cardboard. Why am I still eating it? Plus I'm going to be healthy enough to drag myself to high school tomorrow, which means I've got to deal with an overload of homework, and gym class + not feeling well. I'm going to DIE. Because I stupidly took all honors classes. Which, I mean, I can handle. Except, you know, when I'm sick for two days. I hate everything.

Later, losers. Not actually losers, because anybody who read that entire fortune-cookie-filled authors note is a survivor. This is the end for the story, though, unless I feel like I want to make a continuation to this, which, you never know, might happen. But so far I think it's done, so I think I'll say goodbye until I come up with another idea for a GF/DP crossover. UNTIL NEXT TIME!