I have a bunch of tumblr headcanons on reverse pines. I decided to make a series of one shots about, cause I am addicted to this au. I might make a multi chapter with a continuous story but that would have to wait until the last episode of Gravity Falls comes out and until I get a better footing in my other stories. Anyway enjoy these one shots.

You can find my reverse falls headcanons on my tumblr page, Deadlyflames or Flames-writing

Dipper meeting Pacifica for the first time. Loose ties to the episode Headhunters. Dipifica, sort of.

The entire room was as quiet as a graveyard and not a thing stirred. Not even the boy sitting at his desk. Sharp sea green eyes scanned the pages of the leather bound journal under the dim light of a reading lamp. The reader's elbow was propped on the desk beside the journal and his cheek was leaning heavily into his gloved palm.

Dipper would normally read the pages with passion for their knowledge thrumming in his chest, but now he read with half interest. He had went through the book so many times, he practically memorized every detail of every page. At this point there was nothing new to be found within it, no information that he hadn't already absorbed, and he was infected with an irreversible boredom and frustration.

He needed more answers. He needed the first journal. But since his journal gave no indication of where he might find the other, he had no way getting his hands on it. Dipper supposed he could ask Cipher for some idea of where to find it, but his answers were always cryptic and open ended.

Dipper Pines was stuck. Stuck with the same power he had gained when he was seven years old. Stuck with the same amulet he got when he was 11. Stuck with the same journal. Stuck in the same boring routine of constantly looking over the same spells he had already perfected and expecting different results. He was quite literally on the brink of insanity.

That was until fate threw him a curve ball, that sent him spiraling into the unknown.

He had been skimming over an enchantment that could turn a man to stone, when the slightest rustling of leaves caught his ear. He had left his window open to let in a breeze and to hear the sounds of the forest night life, he found it soothing to listen to when he was suffering through another bout of insomnia. But this time instead of just the sound of animals, the rustling was accompanied by voices. Hushed and panicked voices that barely carried over the sound of the wind. But Dipper was sure that he heard them. He was quick to stand from his desk and stride over to his bedroom window.

Beyond the fence that surrounded the estate and blocked the garden from the forest, he could just make out two figures. One was slightly more stunted, and the other seem feminine. He watched in mild interest as they snuck along the path that lead from the Tent of Telepathy to the Mystery Museum. He had to wonder if these two were moronic enough to break into his Great Uncle's shop. Though his security system wasn't the best, there was nothing of real value in there. Stan never left the money within the cash register at night, he was far too paranoid to do that.

Dipper normally wouldn't care about two lone figures wandering the forest at night, but his sheer boredom made him cling to the feeling of curiosity. He was bored out of his skull and nothing was keeping him around here. So he left his large and lavished bedroom, and strode down the hall towards the stairway. The mansion was dark and lifeless at this time of night. Ramirez had gone home, and Stan and Mabel were undoubtedly fast asleep. Dipper preferred things like this, quiet and sullen. It made his insomnia easier when he wasn't constantly pestered by his sister and Great Uncle when he read and wandered about. Nothing stopped or bothered him on his way down the stairs and out the back door.

The tree tops swayed to the command of the night breeze, the leaves rustled and the wind whistled softly. An owl hooting in the distance, was silenced when the boy passed by the trees. In fact all the sounds of the forest went quiet when Dipper Pines walked along the path to the Mystery Museum.

He couldn't see the figures anymore, though he assumed that they had already gotten inside. And judging by the busted lock on the side door, he was correct in his assumption.

Dipper pushed the door open and its hinges creaked loudly in the quiet night. His shoes clicked on the hardwood floor as he observed the gift shop where his great uncle would sell overpriced merchandise. There was no sign of the two, and everything was in perfect place. Everything except for one thing. The pyramid of plushy replicas of himself and his sister had been disturbed. One of the Mabel dolls was dropped onto the floor.

Dipper kicked the doll to the side as he walked past.

He searched the rooms of the museum with a slowly dying interest. He was beginning to think that this was some poor burglary attempt and not something of actual substance. The thought made his footsteps heavier and his mood soured even more, if that was really even possible. But he kept on looking for the two unknown thieves. Searching for them, disheartening as it was, still proved to be more entertaining than reading through his old leather journal once again.

He wandered aimlessly about the museum until he heard an earth shaking crash that stopped the boy in his tracks. There were several voices, far more than just two, sounding at the end of the hallway. Shouting, screaming and the sound of metal clashing with metal. Dipper's heart flared with excitement against his rib cage. The slashed grin that split his face couldn't have been stopped if he tried. He strode forward with new purpose until he found the source of the sound. He reached the parlor that displayed the skeletons of several fake and real attractions.

The fireplace was crackling with life to Dipper's surprise, but the most shocking thing in that room was the battle between a blonde girl, around his age, and the wax figure of Sherlock Holmes that Stanford had been so proud of.

Dipper had long known about the living wax figures that were put on display on the top floor of the museum. After all, he was the one who cursed them with life.

Mabel had created them all with artistic detail and care during her sculpture phase. Dipper had been dying to try a spell in his journal that could bring life to inanimate objects. In a bout of boredom, he decided to experiment with the wax sculptures. It had required a few drops of blood and a human finger, but he had been able to acquire those ingredients easily. And like every spell in his journal, it worked. He had seen the wax figures come to life during the waxing faze of the moon (a horrible pun he had honestly not intended). He tested their limits, their durability and strength, what killed them and what didn't and how much control he had over them. Since their newfound life gave them a mind, he had a grip on them that they couldn't break free of. He found them relatively useless, since they had a very big weakness in the sunlight and under hot temperatures. So he didn't particularly care when his great uncle started to use them as a sideshow attraction until he found a better job for them.

Usually he was good at keeping them in line, but there were times when the wax replicas rebelled against his wishes and wandered about in the night. But since they were locked in the museum and Great Uncle Stan had melted the last wax figure that was out of place, those nights were few and far between. Though it seemed tonight was one of those nights.

Their fight was currently taking place on the large staircase that led to the show room on the second floor. The large display sword, that used to be hanging on the wall upstairs, struck down on the blade of the axe that the girl held. She was clearly struggling against the weight of the sword and the strength of the wax man that was trying to kill her. Impressively enough, she braced herself on her back foot and managed to shove the wax figure down the flight of stairs. The girl scurried down the steps and ran in front of the fireplace, narrowly avoiding getting her ankles grabbed. As the wax Sherlock Holmes stood from the ground, his expertly carved features formed a vicious snarl. The blonde adjusted her feet into a proper fighting stance, and held the axe out threateningly. Dipper couldn't see her face properly, it was far to obscured by the darkness, but he could tell by her heavy breathing and the tension in her form that she was filled to the brim with ferocity.

Dipper slipped under the cover of the shadows, unnoticed, making the decision to observe in silence rather than interfere. It would be nearly impossible for either of them to see him in the darkened corner, which suited him just find. He was eager to see what became of this battle, even if either way it ended would create a mess.

The pristine British accent of the wax Sherlock boomed across the room, "Once we get rid of you and the Pines family, we can finally escape this wretched household and be free!"

The blonde looked to the fireplace to her side before offering a retort. "Yeah, I think you actually need to defeat me before you start gloating," the blonde sneered. Dipper couldn't see her face but he could guess she was smirking, which was perplexing. "So far all you've done is beat up a robot. That's not exactly a master plan."

"Why you little brat!" Wax Sherlock hissed. Without a moment of hesitation, the wax figure launched himself at the girl, sword at the ready to strike her dead.

With a side step that put the girl a few paces to the side of the fireplace, Sherlock was sent hurdling towards the flames. He regained his footing just in time to stop himself from burning. But his closeness to the fire was making the wax on his face melt away. He turned to face the girl, who was facing away from Dipper, with a grotesque look of fury.

"You really thought you could outwit me girl?" Wax Sherlock growled, though his words were garbled by his half melted mouth. "I'm Sherlock Bleeding Holm- ack!"

The blonde moved faster than Dipper thought she would have been able to. With a clean swing of her axe, she sliced off the sculpture's legs and sent him toppling to the floor. His half melted body splattered on the ground like ice cream on a hot day.

"You talk too much," Dipper heard the girl mutter to the puddle of melted wax. Her blonde hair seemed to gleam golden under the light of the fire.

Without a second of doubt, Dipper brought his hands together in a slow deliberate clap. The sound of slow applause caused the girl to whip around to face Dipper in his corner, though it was doubtful she could even see him. However, Dipper could now see her perfectly.

She was pretty, that much was easy to see, even in those ridiculous baggy overalls she was wearing. She had a small upturned nose and a heart shaped curve to her face. Light blonde hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, held together by an elastic adorned with blue beads that were shaped like pine trees. Well trimmed bangs hung off her forehead, though they were slightly parted and disheveled from the fight. The firelight cast just enough color to highlight her eyes. The eyes that were no doubt her most enticing feature. They were a pale blue with clouds of violet, and the fire brightened them like the sunrise brightens a morning sky.

Dipper stepped out of the shadowed corner, slowing his clap to a stop when he was in her line of sight. Her eyes widened in shock when he sauntered. There was a flash of fear in her eyes, fear of being caught. But she could only stand stock still, in stunned silence as Dipper came up only a few paces away from her.

Dipper's face split into a sharp half grin, and he couldn't help the sinister edge to his voice as he spoke. "Well, that was certainly entertaining. You were absolutely tremendous."

The girl looked him over with suspicion and uncertainty. "How long have you been standing there?" she asked, her voice laced with sharp distrust.

"Long enough," Dipper replied, his grin staying in place despite her rude tone. The blonde didn't look away from him, giving him just the opening he needed to reach her mind. Certain occasions made him envy Mabel and her ability to read the mind of anyone she could look at. But where was the need for that when he could just force a person to tell him whatever he wanted to know. "Tell me what you're doing here."

He doesn't actually need to say anything to her in order to get answers. All he has to do is grip her mind and the words will tumble out of her mouth. But he might as well give her the illusion that she has some control over what she's doing. It will make her less suspicious.

"I came here with my cousin to find out who destroyed Mr. McGucket's robot," the blonde answered automatically. "We thought it was Stan Pines."

The name McGucket rang a few bells. He was the mentally unstable scientist who built all the robots and animatronics for that roadside attraction labeled the Mystery Shack. Stan considered the place competition for the Tent and the Museum. Dipper considered it a cheep, rundown hovel that only succeeded based on how stupid the rest of the town was.

"Interesting," Dipper commented, stepping towards her and examining her more closely with calculating eyes. The girl didn't move from her spot. She couldn't, not with the firm grip Dipper had on her mind. The blonde had and air of familiarity, but he couldn't quite place where he had seen her before. He dug a bit deeper. "What's you're name."

The girl paused, and struggled to keep her mouth closed. No one had ever been able to resist his commands once he had a strong hold on them. It was impressive that this girl was putting up such and effort, though a bit frustrating. He gripped her mind in an almost painfully tight hold. The blonde flinched as she was hit with a sudden headache. "Pacifica Elise Northwest," she was forced to say.

Northwest. Now that name is one of significance. That was where he remembered her from. Dipper recalled seeing the Northwest daughter once or twice, but with her father being the wealthiest man in the state and her mother being the Mayor of Gravity Falls, it was no wonder she had faded into obscurity. Under such imposing shadows, it was difficult to be noticed or remembered. Though, Dipper was going to have no trouble remembering her now.

The pounding of footsteps on the stairs caused Dipper to look away from Pacifica and break the hold. When her mind was released, a sharp breath of shocked relief pushed through her lips. She turned her head to the intruder.

"Gideon," she said, concern sweeping over her voice. A twinge of irritation ticked at Dippers chest when she dismissed him to pay attention to the chubby boy that was running down the stares. "Are you okay?"

Gideon was repulsive for Dipper to look at. His pasty skin was slick with sweat and he had the nose of a pig. His hair was wild curly and stark white and tucked under a bedazzled baseball cap. The multicolored rhinestones formed a strawberry image on the front of his hat. His hideous clothes were mismatched, neon colored, and an eyesore to say the least. Pacifica and him apparently shared the same appalling sense of fashion. His entire form was covered in splashes of melted wax.

"I destroyed the rest of the wax figures," the boy whispered when he reached the bottom of the stairs, too shellshocked to notice Dipper's presence. "And I decapitated Larry King."

Gideon met Dipper's eyes for a split second, but the contact was broken quickly when another unwelcome presence decided to barge in on the scene. His great uncle entered the museum in a state of fury and panic. He was absolutely livid when he found out all the wax figures were destroyed. Interestingly enough, he seemed to recognize the two children.

Dipper barely paid attention to Stan as he fumed about the price of the wax figurines (even though they cost him nothing). His eyes were trained on Pacifica, though she was no longer looking in his direction. She was staring at Stan with a look of annoyance and exasperation. Her eyes were narrowed, and her lips were pressed in a thin line.

As Stan kept ranting, Dipper felt his lips form another smile. This girl was proving to be very interesting. She defeated Sherlock Holmes -albeit in wax form- and barely reacted to it. Any other citizen of Gravity Falls would be shocked at such a supernatural phenomenon. It was almost as if she knew about the supernatural already. As if she already knew of the secrets hidden in this sleepy Oregon town.

Perhaps he should invite her to his next show. See how much she knew, and more importantly where she acquired her knowledge.

Dipper felt his interest in the unknown rekindling, and new passion for answers thrummed in his chest. He was certainly glad that he had met Pacifica Northwest.

Xxx

If I do end up doing a multi chapter fic for reverse pines, this scene would probably be told through Pacifica's perspective. I just wanted to write Dipper cause he's fun.