Reverse Dipcifica Oneshots

home for the holidays

Okay, it's been years since I've written something about holidays, and I'd like to get back into that. So, enjoy this Christmas oneshot that has much fluff, light angst, and much much chaos. This oneshot has manifested a lot of the little details I've used throughout all of my books. So, props to you if you recognise them!

Also, last note, I swear. This would've been out nearly a week ago, but I became distracted with a new hobby and rereading my favourite book of all time. Whoops. Hope y'all enjoy!

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Christmas is Pacifica's favourite holiday. It's a time that cheers so many people, herself included. Freshly fallen snow, warm cocoa, snowball fights, and nights by the fire. Pacifica considers herself to be a Christmas enthusiast.

Christmas is advertised almost as soon as the summer ends, skipping right over Halloween and Thanksgiving in the process, but more people tend to enjoy the holiday. She happens to be one of those people, after all.

Her joy had grown immensely when she realised that even in such a spooky town as Reverse Falls —the place has two separate Halloweens, keep in mind— the Christmas spirit was just as infectious.

To. . .well, to most people.

"I've got it." Dipper points out the afternoon they're decorating the Christmas tree, animatedly tapping his foot.

"You've got what, exactly?"

"This town is trapped, sweetheart."

Well, that isn't what she expects to hear from him. "Um, back up a few steps? I can't read your mind, Dipper." Pacifica jokes, glancing over her shoulder as she's finishing setting up the tree. She's nearly finished, and it only took two hours, despite the lack of help.

Dipper just sighs and scrubs angrily at his eyes, his evident frustration seeping through the cracks between his fingers. "It is simple to understand; there is something wrong here. Ergo, some magical thing has entrapped this entire town in some faux-Christmas-Spirit —most likely to keep this town in a deranged fantasy world where nothing progresses and we're all stuck here forever in some sort of hellish Christmas-Purgatory."

Pacifica has to pause for a moment. Then, she sets the box of ornaments down on the nearest coffee table —because everything in the Mystery Shack is always in arms reach— and holds up her hands. "Wait, I'm sorry; can we go back like, three more steps?"

Another sigh escapes the, clearly troubled, Gleeful boy as he tumbles onto the nearest chair, somehow managing to make it look perfect. He's awfully good at that; making things look perfect. "I grow tired of this, Pacifica."

She moves swiftly until she's sitting pointedly on the armrest, looking down at him. She's really trying to understand where he's coming from. "So, you think that because things always go wrong for us, the second something is going right it's because some otherworldly force is acting?" Pacifica prays that she isn't coming across as condescending.

Because it's true; this stuff always happens to them. A lovely summer picnic on the outskirts of the woods turned into a bloodbath with pixies out for vengeance. Personally, she thinks it's her own bad luck. But it's Christmas time! They're allowed to have fun, right?