Disclaimer: I do not own Gravity Falls. Nor do I own "Bohemian Rhapsody" By Queen.

End of the line.

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Chapter 8:

I Need No Sympathy

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Brx vhhp vr wluhg.

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The shack was just how she remembered it that night.

The second story was blackened and twisted in on itself, attested to the green flames that had consumed it. However, despite the violence that occurred, the first floor hadn't been touched whatsoever. Smoke hadn't even clogged the rooms down below.

Like magic...

Wendy hissed through her teeth, mind on edge, veins pumping pure adrenaline through her system, heart thudding so hard she thought it would burst right out of her chest.

The Mystery Shack.

The tourist trap that was the only real reason for anyone to actually visit Gravity Falls.

The place she got her first job, which also happened to be the only place that wanted to hire her.

That summer so many years ago, meeting what would be her best friends, a pair of interesting twins who were as similar as they were different.

That summer, which lead to the realization that the supernatural was real, magic existed, and everything that went bump in the night was hundreds of times more terrifying than what you had read about.

Wendy bit the inside of her cheek, drawing blood.

Her hands trembled, one clutching the notebook paper with messy scrawls that revealed the truth and the other holding onto a battered red journal with a three written inside a six-fingered hand print.

Wendy lifted her right foot and started to stride forward.

She wasn't so sure what gave her the strength to move forward, what gave her the courage to settle herself and start towards the end.

Because that's what this was, right? This was the end. Where the hero meets the villain. Where the hero and villain fight. Where the hero will defeat said villain. Where the hero would truly be a hero.

Wendy didn't feel like a hero.

She felt like a scared little girl.

The one that cried when boys yanked on her pigtails.

The one who sobbed when other girls made fun of her obvious freckles splashed across her face.

The one who had a night-light on to scare away the monsters.

The one who ran out of the house screaming at the sight of a spider.

A girl who couldn't support herself, who couldn't do what needed to be done.

But, and it was a big but, she reminded herself, she wasn't a little girl anymore.

She hadn't been one for a very long time.

And now it was time to do what needed to be done. To be the hero that defeated the villain in every stereotypical, cliched movie and book.

Wendy stopped before the porch.

Where she and the twins would sit and drink soda and laugh like there wasn't a care in the world.

Where she'd watch Soos fix the door once again because Mabel was too excitable and would always knock it off it's hinges.

Where she broke up with that weird guy once that turned out to be an incubus.

Where she would walk into work everyday to man the register, letting dumb tourists buy over-priced knickknacks and junk from the gift shop located inside.

Wendy stepped onto the first stair, listening over the deafening silence at the small creak that echoed around her, larger than life.

She stepped onto the second- and last stair, right onto the porch.

It was very dusty, the smell of age mixed with nature attacking her nose, causing it to itch.

Sneezing softly, the redhead wiped the back of her hand across her top lip, hoping no snot had come out.

Blinking hard, she stared at the worn-out door before her, memories after memories rolling through her mind like a tide; bad mixed with good, sad tangled with happy, terror coiled around joy.

Head pounding, heart thumping, icy blood rushing, Wendy reached out to the door and gently pushed it open.

And almost vomited.

The stench that assaulted her nose was like nothing she'd ever smelt before. Even after all the crime scenes she had been at, witnessed, choked upon, nothing, absolutelynothing could prepare her for this.

It wasn't just death. It wasn't just fear. It wasn't just sadness.

This was the smell of pure suffering, the smell of Satan himself materializing and punishing you for all eternity while nerves still sparked signals of agony through your being.

It was inhumane. Terrible. Monstrous.

It was the scent of evil.

Wendy staggered against the door frame, head spinning a million miles, eyes screwed together tightly. She panted shallowly, the taste of the very air sticking on her tongue and the roof of her mouth, causing her stomach to boil with bile and her taste buds to want to shrivel up and die.

Wendy couldn't relax.

She also couldn't wait.

Steadying her faint breathing, fighting to keep the rolling bile in her stomach, stopping herself from trembling, she shoved herself off the doorway and took a small step into the room. Carefully, trying her best to mentally prepare her already frazzled brain for what she was about to see, she peeled open her eyes to stare at the sight before her.

And promptly vomited all over the floor.

Her sides screamed as she emptied herself violently, mouth open wide, eyes bugging out of her skull, throat burning. It didn't take much for the redhead to empty herself; she hadn't been eating all that much lately, after all. However, even after she rid herself of all her food, bile spilled out between chapped lips, burning and bitter. After the acid ran out, she continued to dry heave, unable to stop the muscle spasms.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the redhead pulled herself off the floor from where she had collapsed, light-headed and still ill. Taking in a shaky breath, she ignored the sour taste that lingered in the back of her throat as well as the desert that took place of her tongue.

She carefully cracked her eyes open again.

Exhausted from the retching she just did, Wendy didn't have the strength to do anything but stare.

The image before her, the horror, the mutilation would always haunt her.

For as long as she lived.

Wendy shook as she drank in the image, her logical part of the mind stuck. She knew it was a person laying before her, but the mutilation...he? She? Must have went through left the body nearly unrecognizable.

Thick and fresh blood pooled around it, not even hours old. The limbs were tied tightly down, not giving the poor person any chance of escape. The head was flung back against the now terribly stained wood, throat ripped open, blood still trickling out lazily. The mouth was a complete and utter mess as well, stretched but not ripped, gums and teeth torn out violently without a touch of professionalism.

Wendy winced, her stomach still rolling. Taking a few cautious steps forward, the disaster that was the torso slowly became visible.

As soon as the redhead registered the fact that the torso was torn open in two, thick flaps of skin pinned back by forks deep in the person's side, organs a mushy jumble inside, she quickly turned away, brief image haunting her already.

She really did not need to see that.

Fuck, she didn't need to see any of this shit. She didn't want to; she shouldn't have to.

And yet, here she was, next to a mutilated corpse, choking on the taste of the stench in the air, chasing...chasing...

Wendy shook her head side-to-side violently, letting her long red hair whip all around her.

There.

Right there.

Wendy stilled herself and looked at the dusty counter, fresh red stark and obvious against the worn wood. Stepping closer to the place she always worked, bored out of her mind, she saw, right where she'd rest her arms, the two words that always haunter her, always sent chills down her back...

'I'M SORRY.'

But for what?

For fucking what?

Wendy let a hiss escape through her clenched teeth.

She'd find out soon enough, after all.

She glared down at the simple words, written in too-fresh blood that still shined sharply under the natural light that trickled through the window.

So fresh...

So where was her killer? Where did he-?

Wendy slowly turned around, a wisp of an idea forming in her mind.

There it was.

Wendy walked around the mutilated body, giving it a wide berth to avoid stepping into the puddles of blood and other disgusting fluids still seeping into the wood. Forcing herself to face away from the body and all the gore the room held, she turned to an unassuming vending machine next to the door.

An unassuming vending machine which lead to a secret basement under the shack.

An unassuming vending machine propped open with a familiar journal...

Grabbing the edge of the secret door with one hand to keep it open, the redhead bent to to grab the book, almost dropping it in surprise.

It was old.

And red.

With a one drawn in a golden six-fingered hand print.

Using her foot to keep the old door open, she took out the journal she owned, holding them together in comparison.

Though the journal- the first journal with a one on it was much older than the one she carried, it was obvious that whomever owned it took much better care of it than she did her's, however.

Besides the age and the numbers, both were exactly the same.

Well, nearly.

Putting journal three back into her jacket, she briefly flipped through the first, seeing ramblings of the mysteries of Gravity Falls and some unprofessional drawings of various creatures she had never seen before.

Snapping it close, she slunk into the secret passage, letting the vending machine close behind her with a large bang!

The hallway was short, just as she remembered, curving sharply to the left and leading down a number of stairs to an elevator that looked like it had been ripped straight out on an old sci-fi movie.

Coughing through the dust that took to the air, Wendy held the first book tight to her chest as she slowly walked down each step, feeling the cool cement through her boots.

As Wendy stood before the strange elevator, a small screen next to it started to flash a number of different, random symbols she vaguely remembers seeing in the journal.

Startled, she jumped back, surprised the machinery was reacting to her prescience.

It shouldn't be doing that.

Unless some one programmed it to.

Biting her lip, feeling her heart clench at the obvious implications she knew were true but still too scared to completely accept, she watched as the old doors before her rolled open, slow and steady, creaking from age the entire time.

The inside of the elevator was simple. Metallic. Cold. Dusty.

Another journal sat in the middle of it.

Shivering, Wendy stepped onto the machine, feeling it vibrate uneasily under her feet. Crouching down, she picked up the third old and battered red journal and turned it around.

Old like the others.

Worn, but obviously taken care of quite well.

With a golden six-fingered hand print with a two written inside.

Wendy tucked journal one into her jacket next to journal three. Shakily, she brushed over the two on the journal she was holding, cold sweat gathering in her hands. Blinking hard, she turned an pushed the button labeled number two in the elevator.

The metal box shuddered violently as it's doors closed, weak orange light illuminating the small area she as in.

Wendy descended into the darkness below.

~~0~~0~~0~~

"I-I know you did this for me, but why?" The Angel said, arms crossed tightly over her chest, tears staining her cheeks even more, thick brown hair falling framing her face, sticking to it slightly.

"I need you to forgive me. Please." He begged, reaching out to her.

"No! How- how..? What made you think even for a second that- that doing this would change anything?

He wrapped his arms around himself and hugged tightly, his own tears starting to fall.

"But- I thought-"

"Exactly!" The Angel huffed, her voice, which had always shined with cheer now hard and bitter. "You never asked, and even though I told you- told you so many times... You still didn't listen! You never listen to me!"

"Please!" He gasped. "Please!"

She broke down sobbing. "It's too late. It always has been too late."

He sobbed alongside her, two separate sounds that clashed terribly.

"I know. I know."

The Angel turned away from him, her still sweater-clad shoulders shaking something terrible.

"This is hell, isn't it?" She moaned. "My own personal hell."

He didn't reply.

"I-I'm done with this." The Angel cried. "I don't want tobe here anymore."

"No!" He shouted. "Don't leave!" He grabbed her shoulders and hugged her from behind. "I can't live without you. Please, Mabel. Don't leave me."

Mabel pulled herself away from him, resolution hardened in her heart, soul smothering in a cold and dead fire.

"Yes you can." She hissed, glaring at a being directly behind him. "You've been fine without me. Ever since you- you killed me! No, before then!" She snarled with finality.

He broke down, collapsing to his knees. The Other wrapped thin arms around his shoulders; a mockery of a true hug.

"Please forgive me, Mabel." He gasped.

But Mabel was gone.

~~0~~0~~0~~

Wendy shivered as the elevator slowly grounded to a halt, the little box swinging about slightly.

The light above the door shined a sickly green color, an arrow pointing to the two printed above.

Feeling ill once again, Wendy knew that no amount of breathing or mental perpetration would make her ready for what was about to happen. Clenching her teeth, she waited as the doors rolled open, and stepped into the room before her.

The first thing she saw were large bookcases that towered high, nearly touching the ceiling, lined up with books and artifacts she'd never seen before. A red light shined from old runes carved into the sides of the shelves, protection from any sort of creatures that might try to harm the place.

High above, weak light filtered through light bulbs, just enough to see where she was going, but nothing more.

Wendy had a feeling that the lights shouldn't be working at all.

Same with the elevator.

Wendy winced as music crackled from the far back, slow and familiar.

It sent shivers down her spine, and not the good kind the song usually gave her.

"Too late, my time has come."

"Sent shivers down my spine."

Wendy winced as Freddie Mercury's voice filled up the room, old, worn, and static-y.

Wendy closed her eyes once again, breathing deeply. Listening hard at the record, it didn't take her long to pinpoint where exactly the music was coming from.

"Body's aching all the time..."

Squaring her shoulders and letting determination and fake bravery shine clear in her green eyes, Wendy strode forward with slightly wobbly steps. Her feet slapped lightly against the cement ground, clacking softly to the beat of the famous song that played in the background.

It reminded the redhead of Mabel, in all honesty. The older twin had always loved songs like these, singing terribly off-key to them while hopping up and down in a crazy dance.

The thought brought a nostalgic smile to Wendy.

Mabel...

Wendy rubbed her eyes angrily, taking a left down another corridor in the labyrinth that was the underground library.

The music was getting much louder as the instrumentals took place of the singing, full of life.

A complete and utter contrast to the emotions running through her heart.

Wendy stopped briefly to hold onto a bookcase, feeling dizzy as her mind wandered to what was about to happen.

Part of her wanted to run forward, drawing her gun and firing just to get this over with.

Part of her wanted a full and strong confrontation. The kind of confrontation seen in the movies filled with bitter banter and finality; the kind that would make her the hero.

And yet, another part of her, one of that scared little girl who got scared of the dark wanted to run away. He'd already killed his last, she knew it in her gut.

She knew him as well.

She could run.

And no one would ever know.

The case would eventually go cold and pass into history, right alongside Jack the Ripper and the Zodiac Killings.

But she wasn't a scared girl. She was a woman now with a job, a moral code. She was ready to bring him- him down. Let the hammer of justice swing on his head and decide his fate, whatever it may be.

"He's just a poor boy from a poor family."

"Spare him his life from this monstrosity..."

Wendy choked as the lyrics hit her ears, deathly and ironic. It made her sick.

Too bad there was nothing left in her.

She was empty. Nothing but a tangle of emotions lost within herself.

She didn't even know what emotions she was currently feeling.

Didn't know their labels, didn't know the words.

She didn't think what she was going through could be put into words. The heart was a complicated thing, filled with so much desperation and hope and love and many other things that couldn't quite be described by language alone.

Wendy turned down another corridor, the light getting stronger.

And the music got louder.

And the air got heavier.

"Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for me..."

Wendy froze as the next big instrumental rang, loud and true through the air, filling her emptiness with glass shards. It was energetic and much too cheerful for her taste.

Wendy closed her hands over her ears, wanting to stop this, all of this to stop stop stop stop!

The music crescendoed once again.

"So you think you can love me and leave me to die?"

"Oh, baby, can't do this to me, baby..."

Wendy broke into a run. She couldn't take this anymore.

Couldn't take him.

He knew she was here.

He had been waiting for her.

And she was going to shoot the traitorous bastard down.

And this time, he'd stay dead.

Wendy rounded the corner.

The music got even louder. It was booming all around her, threatening in the strangest of ways.

More static came with the heavy lyrics, a clear sign of an old record being played.

The music died down.

Wendy turned to where the spotlight were, where everything converged into...into...

"Nothing really matters. Anyone can see..."

His eyes were closed, head bobbing gently to the music, singing along slightly off-key.

"Nothing really matters. Nothing really matters to meee...~"

His eyes snapped open and fell onto her.

The music cut off.

Deathly silence swallowed the entire room.

All Wendy could here was her erratic heart trying to burst out of her chest.

He was sitting down at a small corner table, an old record right next to him. His head was leaning against the palm of his hand, a look of near boredom on his face.

The first thing she noticed was the suit he was wearing. Old fashioned and black with a bow-tie of all things.

The second thing she noticed was how much older he was. Taller. Broader shoulders. Skin paler.

The third thing she noticed was how similar he looked to the last time she saw him. Brown hair still fluffy. Eyes still dark brown. Even his button nose still had a slight red tint to it.

Wendy stumbled back slightly, a delayed reaction to a delayed realization. One that she already knew. One that she had struggled to prepare for.

However, no amount of preparing, of whispering, of telling herself what was going to happen and what truths she had revealed would ever be enough for seeing him in the flesh, just as alive as the day he had been born.

"Hey, Wendy." He greeted, as if it hadn't been years since she'd seen him. As if he'd never faked his death. As if he'd never killed all twenty of those poor people to carve a message.

As if he'd never killed Mabel.

Wendy's tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. There was so many things she wanted to ask, to demand.

Why?

Why?

Why?

Why?!

So many questions, so many different conflicting emotions ran through her, she didn't know how to act, what to say, what to express, so she simply stood there, frozen to the spot, a forlorn, lost look in her eyes, staring at him.

"D-Dipper?" She finally was able to choke out, tears bubbling behind her eyes but unable to fall.

Dipper gave her a small smile, one that would look more at home on a young five-year-old and not a killer of twenty people.

"In the flesh." He chuckled, slowly standing up and folding his hands behind his back.

It took Wendy a few heartbeats to process what he just said. Realization clicking in, the redhead's blank look morphed into one of anger.

"You fucker." She snapped, back ramrod straight, an inner, hurt fire burning in her emerald gaze.

A light frowned tugged at Dipper's lips, his already insane eyes gaining an edge to her words.

"Well, that's rude, isn't it?" He replied.

"Rude? Rude?!" Wendy gasped, falling into rage-filled hyperventilation. Red clouded her vision as white-hot lava coursed through her veins. She wanted to grab her gun and empty all her magazines into his head, wanted to run up and punch him square in the face.

She wanted him to hurt.

But she still felt paralyzed, limbs like lead weights, too heavy to lift or move.

Wendy didn't know whether it was the oppressive magic buzzing in the air holding her down, or herself.

"Now, now. Calm down, Wendy. We're not going to finish-"

He cut himself off, as if he were interrupted.

"And why should I do that?" Dipper asked the air to the left of him.

The anger drained from the redhead.

She knew he was insane. The hysteric laughter so many years ago told her that. Fuck, that fact that he killed Mabel on purpose and told the judge that labeled him as a complete and utter psycho. However, seeing this for herself, him talking to something that wasn't even there did the trick.

"You think so?" He continued.

A few more beats of silence dragged out.

Once again, Wendy found herself unable to talk.

Dipper finally nodded sagely, eyes narrowing in thought.

He turned back to her, his dark brown eyes shattered beyond reason.

Thunk. Thunk.

His footsteps echoed around them deafeningly.

Before she could register what was happening again, before she could move away or draw her gun or do anything whatso-fucking-ever, Dipper had wrapped her up in a hug, thin arms holding her against his unnaturally hot body with more strength than should be possible.

Wendy's insides froze.

Her mind was screaming at her to do something. To punch or kick or start firing or something.

Another part of her, the dark part of her soul, wanted to hug him back.

They had been laughing.

Shooting pine cones at a target tapped onto a plastic totem pole.

They had been watching the clouds pass by, along with many other long-forgotten friends.

They had been laughing.

They had been happy.

Wendy's limbs refused to move.

Wendy took in a sharp breath, the smell of the man- killer choking her.

He smelled of normal everyday soap mixed with the sharp iconic tang of blood.

It made her want to be ill once again.

His lips brushed her cheek in a mockery of a kiss, lips chap and full of cracks.

"Do you know why you are alone?" He whispered into her ear.

Wendy's eyes darted about.

"W-what do you mean?" She was finally able to spit out, voice cracking every which way.

He chuckled against her skin.

"C'mon, Wendy. Killer across the United States and they have one person working the case alone?" Dipper hissed.

Wendy, if possible, froze even more, dry-ice in her veins.

Everything was clicking into place.

He knew she was a detective.

He knew what cases she worked on.

He knew how her mind worked.

He had-had...

There hadn't been any real news coverage of the case

And little evidence was left at each crime.

Dipper- Dipper was more powerful than she had thought he'd be. Her words from long ago rang in her ears, true and ironic.

"...seems really dangerous."

"Isn't that an oxymoron or something?"

"But it was all for nothing in the end, wasn't it?" Dipper snarled suddenly, pushing her away. "She didn't forgive me and you won't either, will you? I always asked, but you never responded, did you?"

Wendy stared at Dipper, not comprehending his train of thought. His dark eyes had an unstable edge to them, blown wide.

Wendy understood.

"Oh God." she cried out, almost falling to the floor.

'I'M SORRY.'

It had been to her.

He had been apologizing to her as well.

The solved cipher felt as if it weighed tons in her pocket. Reaching a hand up, she yanked it out, nearly tearing the thin, cheap paper.

Dipper plucked the decoded message out of her hands quickly and took a glance at it. A look of anger, sadness, recognition, and- was that pride- crossed his features.

Green flames sparked from Dipper's fingertips, snuffing the paper out.

"She didn't forgive me." He stated blankly.

Wendy shot him a confused look.

Mabel was dead.

It wasn't possible for her to forgive him.

However, the redhead did not say that. Did not mention anything about the young woman's demise in green flames.

"I don't forgive you either." She mumbled.

Dipper gave her an odd look.

"I know."

"See?" The Other whispered into his ear. "I told you this would happen!"

Dipper scowled at the demon, but did nothing more. How could he be angry at the being who showed him the truth? How could he be angry for a creature who took care of him for all these years?

Who helped him create a fake body and fake his death?

Who helped him pick out friends?

Who helped him with magic?

Who covered up all his crimes?

Who pulled a blanket over the eyes of nearly every American?

The answer was short: He couldn't.

"You never told me that." He snapped to the Other. "But...Well, I guess I had too much hope."

Wendy stared at Dipper once again, only hearing half the conversation he was having with himself.

"So what do we do now?" Dipper asked the Other, tears wetting his orbs.

What would he do now? What was there to do? Half the reason he did this disappeared and the other half stood in front of him, vision clouded and eyes lost.

The triangular demon's eye quirked up in a mockery of a grin. "How about I leave that up to you? There's only one way this will end, after all."

Dipper hung his head and turned away.

Wendy scowled at the man before her, pieces snapped into place, puzzle complete.

Everything that had happened...everything...

Dipper was insane.

There was no doubt about that now.

Not that there ever was to begin with, really.

"You- You..." Wendy growled, voice laced with anger.

She still didn't know what to feel about all of this.

But she knew what she had to do.

Wendy let her hand slide around the handle of the gun she had brought, cold metal shocking her skin.

Dipper looked up at her, locking the redhead in his gaze.

A gaze that said so much and so little at the same time.

His eyes wandered to where her hand laid and another gentle smile graced his lips; a complete clash of character.

Before she could draw the gun, or even really think, Dipper had her wrapped up in another agonizing hug.

"Wendy. We both know how this is going to end, don't we?" He whispered into her ear.

"You bleeding out on the ground, bastard!" She challenged.

He pretended like he never heard her response. "How about we play a game, one last time?"

Before Wendy could interject, Dipper continued on. "Remember when we'd visit each other during college? Mabel always wanted to play Chicken. She was really good at it too."

Wendy's blood froze in her veins as her arms locked up around his.

Something frigid, metallic, and circular pressed gently behind her ear.

She stared into his psychotic brown eyes, her own hand forced to point her gun up to his head.

"Well?" He murmured, reaching down to kiss her cheek lightly once again. "I wonder who the chicken will be."

The smell of soap and blood assaulted her nose as her mouth dried up even more than it already was.

The redhead couldn't tear her green eyes away from his brown ones, pressure from unshed tears building.

All it would take was a tap.

Dipper's eyes glowed under the sharp light he had created.

Just.

A.

Tap.

Wendy's mouth fell open slightly, all she could here was her heart in her chest. Now that she was here, now that this was happening, she felt left behind once more, not knowing how to react once again.

A twitch of the finger to bring justice.

She was paralyzed.

If Dipper wasn't helping holding the gun to his own head, Wendy wouldn't of had the strength to lift it up.

All it would take was a small tap.

It might not fix everything- no, it wouldn't fix anything.

Twenty people would still be dead.

And she would still be shattered.

Dipper's small smile grew wider, true and honest and innocent.

Just a tap. All it would take.

A twitch of the fingers.

Just a tap.

Just a-

A single shot rang out.

~~0~~0~~0~~

Zkb grq'w brx mxvw uhvw?

~~0~~0~~0~~

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.

And that's a wrap! Huge thanks to everyone who's favorited and followed, and a massive, mega thanks to all who have left reviews! You guys are really awesome and I'm glad you liked this so much!

This entire thing was a huge experiment for me. Believe it or not, I roughly based it off of the Twilight Zone and other stories in which case nothing is quite as it seems. I wanted to try and write in circles, be ambiguous as possible, but still have a full and enjoyable story and I do think I've succeeded in this.

The best part about writing all of this was the different interpretations I got. Like I said before, everyone infers something differently while reading this. While writing it, I myself had roughly four or five different interpretations. When my friends in real life read it, they had their own that were completely different than mine.

So, everyone who has read this and got this far, I only ask one thing from you: What is your interpretation? What did you, personally, get out of this? I really do want to know and I would love it if you told me either in a review, or if you're uncomfortable with that for whatever reason, in a PM. It would really make my day.

When I set out to write this, I wanted to make a dark!Dipper story like no other, one that didn't give you all the answers and one that wasn't about building up and the final Fall, but the fallout from those decisions and choices. I also did not want to have the story completely in Dipper's POV, but someone else, someone on the outside, aka Wendy. I also wanted to still have those beautiful mystery elements in the show that I'm pretty sure we all love.

And, like I said last chapter about fixing torture scenes that people write, I wanted to fix the way people write Violently!Insane characters. Too many times, they don't really feel insane. I wanted to remedy that in a way and write a character that actually felt insane.

I also wanted to test and see how far I could go writing torture and gore. I don't think I disappointed you.

This entire story was a roller coaster and I'm glad I was able to deliver it to all of you.

Once again, huge thank you to everyone who's read this, and who's reading it after it's been finished. You've all been a dream and I'm glad to produce something that you could enjoy. You are all awesome in every way and I do hope that you enjoyed this entire story.

Stay classy, folks and maybe I'll see you next time!