Dipcifica Week 2025

Dipcifica Week 2025: 8/31 - Free day/Crossover

Dipcifica Week 2025: 8/30 - Long distance

Chapters: 7/7 Fandom: Gravity Falls Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Pacifica Northwest/Dipper Pines, Pacifica Northwest & Mabel Pines, Dipper Pines & Mabel Pines Characters: Dipper Pines, Pacifica Northwest, Mabel Pines Additional Tags: minor mentions of other characters - Freeform, Prompt Fic Summary:

Stories inspired by the Dipcifica Week 2025 Prompts

She huffed as her eyelids snapped open. “I waited for twenty years for THAT?” ~ Dipper hosts an impromptu book club. Pacifica is a harsh critic.

2k words. I was in the mood to write something lighthearted/silly/fluffy after my last publication. Enjoy the banter :)

read on [AO3] or [FFN]

For Dipcifica Week 8/29, First Date

Dipper scaled a tree to get a better vantage, and because he’d realized that climbing trees was both fun and a good skill to have for someone who spent the better part of his summers in the woods. When he reached one of the higher branches, he surveyed his surroundings. Through the vegetation, he glimpsed a head of platinum blonde hair and purple fabric. 

“Is that Pacifica?” He muttered. What was she doing in the woods? It was true she’d occasionally gone on adventures with them, but it didn’t seem like a place she’d go to on her own. Well, there’s only one way to know for sure. He climbed back down the tree and trotted off in the direction he’d seen her. She wasn’t too far away, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight he came across when he found her. 

Pacifica reclined in a small throne made of branches, touching up her makeup with a compact mirror. Gnomes huddled in clusters, fear in their eyes. One of them tentatively stepped forward, placed a berry-filled branch in front of the throne, and hurried back. 

“Thank you, Carson,” Pacifica said, not deigning to look at the gnome. 

“The gnomes didn’t kidnap you to try and make you their queen, did they?” Dipper asked. 

Pacifica started. Her demeanor brightened when she saw him. “Dipper! Yeah, these losers thought they could make me marry them. But I’m already a queen.”

He snorted. “Oh really?” 

She spread her arms out, gesturing at the whole setup she had going on, and gave him a look that clearly said that it was obvious. 

A gnome scurried up to him and tugged his pant leg. “Save us from her!” 

“Jason, I’ve told you this.” Pacifica wore an incredibly bored expression. “I’m not staying forever. I’m just taking a break from my stupid parents.”

“Yeah, that tracks,” Dipper said. Her parents weren’t quite as insufferable since losing much of their wealth during Weirdmageddon, but he would never choose to spend time around them. He could only imagine how much worse it was for Pacifica. He wasn’t sure whether or not they still used the bell on her, but he figured she could only tolerate so much before it became suffocating. He glanced at the gnomes. “Hey, where’s Jeff? Last time he was the main one trying to get Mabel to marry him.”

“You guys tried to do what?” Her voice was deadly calm. It made his heart race and his palms clammy. She was terrifying when she wanted to be. “You know, I’m mad enough that you thought you could kidnap me. Mabel, though . . . she was my first friend. I’ve got a–” she shuddered, “–soft spot for her. So if any of you ever try to force her or any other girl into being your queen again . . .” She ripped a branch out of the throne and snapped it in two. “You’ll have to face me. And you don’t want that, do you? I’m talking especially to you, Jeff!” She shouted that last part.

“Oh, I got it. Definitely never kidnapping anyone again!” A familiar voice replied. 

Dipper looked up. Jeff was in a birdcage hanging from a high branch. “I don’t know how to react to this.” 

“Jeff’s in timeout,” Pacifica said sinisterly. 

“Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

She chuckled darkly. “You’re already on my hitlist.”

“Okay, I’m like 95 percent sure you’re joking.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“. . . 80 percent sure.” 

She cocked her head.

“60 percent and I can show you some secluded spots around the forest where you can escape your parents if you need to so that you take me off your hitlist.” He smiled awkwardly. “Don’t murder me.”

“It’s a date. Preferably a romantic one,” she agreed.

His thoughts spun. Was she serious? She was hard to read. What if she was just messing with him? Or joking? If he took it the wrong way, he could ruin the friendship they had. He bit his lip so hard that blood welled up. “Ow,” he mumbled. 

She rose and took his hand. “Come on. Show me the spots you had in mind.” 

“Okay.” He could do that, and try to figure out what she meant by a “preferably romantic” date. She’d had a disinterested air the whole time. Was that just how she was, or was she making fun of him, or did she want to go on a platonic romantic date? (He admitted that the last one didn’t make a ton of sense, but he was grasping for answers here! Anything to make her words make sense.) 

He led her to a spot deep in the woods. Blue and pink crystals jutted out of the ground. “This is where I got the size-changing crystal flashlight,” he said. “You want to be careful around here, since some of the predators can get pretty big for, well, obvious reasons.” He waved at the crystals. “But not many people come here.”

Tracing her hands across a blue crystal, Pacifica smiled at it. She met his eyes. “Thanks for showing me. And look, about what I said about this being romantic–it doesn’t have to be if you don’t want it to be. But this would be a beautiful place for a first date.”

“So . . . you weren’t joking, or like, making fun of me?”

She swatted his shoulder. “No, you dork! I like you!”

His cheeks warmed. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach. He had sort of maybe developed a crush on her over the last two years that had become kind of massive. “This would be a nice place for a date. Just wish I’d brought food. Then we could have a picnic.” 

“That’s Dipper-speak for “yes, this is a date”, right?” 

“Yes, this is a date,” Dipper said. 

Dipcifica Week 2025: 8/28 - Future

For 8/28, Future.

Cleaning up after Weirdmageddon was a whole-town effort. The tear in the sky might have healed, but that didn’t fix the homes ruined from monsters trampling through them or the lingering stench of sulfur. It didn’t erase the scars. It didn’t heal Stan’s memory. Pacifica had never much cared for him, but he’d taken her in during the apocalypse and she would forever be grateful for that. Any number of horrible fates could have happened to her if she stayed out there on her own after she’d fled from her parents. 

Because she was trying to make a concentrated effort to be “a better person” or whatever, she’d joined in cleaning up, which meant wading through junk both stinky and dangerous. So many sharp objects were just laying around for some reason, like nails and broken glass. She grabbed whatever junk she saw with gloved hands and stuck it in the garbage bag she lugged around. Her parents would hate it if they saw her now. They’d hate her. She tried not to think about it.

A chipped brick. A torn shirt. Feathers and other equally as random trash. They were all things she found to put in her bag. She wondered at the story behind the torn shirt. Had someone been injured–or even died–and this was their shirt? Had anyone died? She didn’t think there were any deaths, but she could be wrong. Maybe she’d ask around later, see what she could find out. But not right now.

She stepped forward. Her foot bumped into an object, sending it skittering. Frowning, she picked it up. It was a tape measure, which wasn’t the oddest thing she’d found, but it still piqued her curiosity. She pulled the hook out and a strange sensation came over her, like she was an elastic being stretched. But as soon as it started, it was over. 

“Well, that was–” She paused. All the junk was gone. The houses around her were no longer bruised and dirty, but appeared to be freshly painted. She glanced at the tape measure in a panic. Had it teleported her to some alternate universe? Was she just going insane? Was it something she hadn’t thought of? She could pull the hook again, but what if it made things even worse? 

After taking a moment to clear her head with a few deep breaths, she decided to head to the Mystery Shack. They were the experts on weird stuff, after all. 

As she trekked through town, she noticed that it wasn’t just the area she’d been in that was fixed up–everything was. It was as if Weirdmageddon never happened. If she’d dreamed up an entire apocalypse–but no, she wouldn’t! She’d probably teleported to a stupid alternate dimension with the stupid time tape where everything was perfect and they didn’t have evil triangles and fathers who made terrible decisions that lost all their money!

Her legs ached by the time she reached the Shack and sweat trickled down her back. Gross, but she’d been through worse because of the stupid apocalypse that seemed to not exist here. She banged her fist against the door. “Hello?” 

“Just a moment!” A voice that she couldn’t quite place called. After a minute, the door opened to reveal what she imagined Dipper Pines would look like when he was older. His jaw was narrower, more defined. He wore sweatpants and a T-shirt. He wore no hat, revealing an odd-looking . . . Pacifica couldn’t tell if it was acne or a birthmark. The Dipper lookalike examined her for a moment before leaning back and shouting, “Pacifica! You’re here! Younger you!” 

“Younger–what, am I in the future?” Pacifica questioned, scoffing. Not that it would be too out there, considering the whole apocalypse that just happened.

“Considering you have a Time Tape, yes,” Probably-Older-Dipper replied. “You don’t know how to use it, do you? Or else you would have already gone back.”

Another face materialized behind him. It was like looking into a mirror. Same blonde hair, same fair skin, same bright eyes. But this older Pacifica’s hair was held back in a sloppy low ponytail and she had almost no makeup on. “Oh, I remember this day! Dipper, invite her in!” 

“Wait, this must be–” Realization flashed in Older Dipper’s eyes. “Yeah, come in. We can show you how to get back to your time.”

“So this didn’t teleport me to an alternate reality. Just the future.” Pacifica said, entering the Shack and following the older version of her to the living room. “And I’m living in the Shack?”

Older Pacifica laughed. “No, just visiting.” She and Older Dipper exchanged a look that could only be described as . . .

“Ew, are you dating?” Why would she want to date Dipper? His clothes smelled like they hadn’t been washed in a week, her parents hated him, he believed in her (for some reason), he cared about her, he helped stop an apocalypse, he told her she was more than a pretty face–“Okay, that’s enough!” 

“We didn’t say anything,” Older Dipper pointed out.

“Just tell me how to go home,” Pacifica groaned. 

“That’s pretty easy–”

“But first, a piece of advice!” Older Pacifica interrupted. “I know you just came from Weirdmageddon. Dad just lost most of our wealth. You’re lonely and confused and hurting.”

“I am none of those things,” Pacifica denied. It was a lie. She didn’t know who to turn to about everything–the ghost, Mr. What’s-His-Face, Bill Cipher, being turned into a tapestry–lonely and confused and hurting about it. 

“And things are going to keep on being hard for a while,” Older Pacifica continued with no regard to Younger Pacifica’s interruption. “A lot of people aren’t going to like you. You’ve never given them a reason to. My suggestion is to reach out to the Pines, especially Dipper and Mabel. But Soos, Melody and Wendy are also pretty cool.” 

“Who’s Melody?”

“We should probably send her back before we break time,” Older Dipper interjected.

Older Pacifica elbowed him. That’s when Younger Pacifica noticed the shiny band on her finger. “I remember all this. We’re not gonna break time.”

“Are you engaged?” Pacifica blurted. Her? Engaged to Dipper? Why? 

Older Dipper gave Older Pacifica a flat stare. “See?”

“You should probably go back now,” Older Pacifica admitted.

“Right. How do I do that?” Pacifica asked.

They showed her how to work the tape. As she prepared to leave, she gave them one last look. “Thanks,” she said, before disappearing.

When the stretching sensation vanished, she found herself still in the living room–with the Pines, Soos, and Wendy. They were looking over a scrapbook. All of their eyes swiveled to her.

She opened her mouth. “Uh, I’ll be going now.”

“Is that a Time Tape?” Dipper, now a normal age, inquired.

For Dipcifica week 8/27, injury/jealousy

“You said it would be fine,” Pacifica said, glaring down at him. 

Dipper winced. “It’s not that bad?”

She sighed in exasperation and stuck her hand out. Using it to help himself up, he put all his weight on his right leg. An arm slithered under his shoulder so he could lean on her. “You tried to walk on your foot and immediately tripped and fell.” She stated flatly.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he admitted as they hobbled along. 

“Go on a hike with your boyfriend, they said. It’ll be fun, they said. He won’t head into a cave full of giant vampire bats and sprain his ankle when he startles them and they fly off, in turn startling him and making him trip and fall and sprain his ankle!”

“You repeated some things. Also, I get the point.” He’d never live this down. Not until the next time he did something stupid or embarrassing, anyway. “I’m an idiot.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re not an idiot, Dipper. You’re like, one of the smartest people I know. You just have no sense of self-preservation when it comes to researching anomalies.”

“I’m better than Grunkle Ford,” he contested, despite the warm feeling at her calling him smart. 

“Wow. Such a high bar. I’m so amazed.”

“Snark all you want, my dear girlfriend.” Calling her his girlfriend was still so strange, but it never got old. “I–” His injured foot stepped on a sharp rock. “Ow!” 

“You okay?” Concern laced through her voice. 

“Yeah, just stepped on a rock.” 

“I’d call you an idiot–affectionately–if I didn’t just tell you that you weren’t one.” 

“As long as I’m your idiot, it’s fine.”

“Ha. Dork.” She grinned. “My dork, to be exact.”

“Always.” 

I’ve decided to host a Lumity week in October so here are the prompts!!

10/25- Book club/crush

10/26- Timeskip/Alternate Universe

10/27- Human realm/Rain

10/28- Nightmares/Monsters

10/29- Notes/proposal

10/30- Date/Magic

10/31- Free day

Dipcifica Week 2025: 8/27 - Injury/Jealousy

I hope I interpreted that prompt correctly...

Dipcifica Week - Monster/Ghost Hunts

I barely made it in time 😮‍💨

Dipcifica Week 2025: 8/26- Alternate universe

For Dipcifica Week 8/26, Alternate Universe!

Breathing in the sea salt, the open ocean all around her, never got old. The ship gently lurched, water rippling underneath the schooner. Though the darkness stretched down for miles upon miles, Pacifica had long since stopped being afraid of the murky depths below. Even if she and her crew were stranded, the Freedom I’s sails torn from the storm the previous night, she wouldn’t show fear. After all, she didn’t become a notorious pirate captain by the time she was fifteen by showing weakness. Nearly two years had passed since then and she remained the undisputed queen of the seas. The irony still amuses her to this day–once the daughter of wealthy nobles, now a terror to the very people who raised her. She was sure they were horrified at everything she’d become, but she was satisfied with how things turned out. Mostly. 

“HEY! I SEE A SHIP! IT’S A TRAWLER!” Grenda bellowed from the crow’s nest. 

Pacifica surveyed the ocean until she found it, a slowly approaching black splotch. Her lips curved into a smile. “Looks like we have a solution to our ripped sail problem! Plan 2A, everyone. Let’s go!” She commanded. 

“Whoo! Hoist the flag!” Grenda and Candy cheered. Pacifica sighed and resisted the urge to slap her forehead at their antics, but it only took moments for an orange flag to wave in the air. Her first and second mates, William and Old Man McGucket, watched them closely to be sure they did it right. William did, anyway. He was detail-oriented. McGucket just joined in on their cheering and hollering.

The trawler sped up. Ha. Gullible. Pacifica thought. Well, maybe that wasn’t fair. They were just trying to help someone supposedly in need. Nausea welled in her stomach, but she pushed it down. She’d made friends with her guilt long ago. It wasn’t quite peace, but a temporary truce. She saved her guilt for late at night when she pondered everything she could have done differently. If she should have stayed. Become the noblewoman she was meant to be. The very idea made her sick. She guessed she could have run away and not become a pirate, but run away to where? It was dangerous for a runaway noble’s daughter, so she became the danger to protect herself. 

When the trawler came closer in sight, she noticed that there were only six or so people visible. This’ll be easy. “Hey! Can you help us?” She called when they came within earshot. “We’re stranded!”

Two old guys exchanged a knowing glance. Before they could answer, a teenage girl in a shooting star sweater declared, “Of course we can! Right, Grunkle Stan? Grunkle Ford?” She looked up at each of them with a pleading face. 

“What do you need?” The old man in the trench coat–“Grunkle Ford” according to Sweater Girl–questioned. “We’ll be happy to provide.”

“A ride to the nearest port.” William, Pacifica’s first mate, said. He was a muscled, suntanned man with blue eyes and an angular face covered by a scruffy dark beard. 

“That’s all we ask. Our sail’s a little broken!” Lazy Susan, their cook and main deckhand, added. 

A teenage boy who must have been related to Sweater Girl pushed his way in between “Grunkle Stan” and “Grunkle Ford” and whispered something to them. Ford nodded, considering. Stan frowned and said something unintelligible back. The boy sighed, conceding whatever point had been made. 

The other ship–the Stan O’War II –let them aboard. As Pacifica declared that there would be a few changes around here and that she was in charge now, drawing her sword out and lazily pointing it at them, she reveled in witnessing the slow realization that the supposedly stranded crew they had let on their ship was the infamous pirate crew led by Captain Paz, youngest pirate captain to ever gain such notoriety. She expected the expressions of horror to follow. But they didn’t. Instead, their reactions were as such:

“Hardcore,” Wendy (as Pacifica later learned what all of their names were) said.

“A minor inconvenience,” Ford said.

“Do you have like, parrots and eyepatches, dude?” Soos said.

“Pirates, huh? I fell in with some pirates once,” Stan said.

“Do you have a stash of treasure buried somewhere and marked by an X?” Mabel said.

Dipper didn’t say anything. He just glared at her. If Pacifica were less mature, she might have stomped her foot and demanded to know why they were so okay with this. Didn’t they realize that she’d just commandeered their ship? They were at her mercy, and they didn’t even care! 

It only got worse as the days passed. They acted like nothing was wrong, like it was just any other day on their trawler. Pacifica had her crew–William, Mark, Tiffany, Candy, Grenda, Lazy Susan, and Old Man McGucket–manning the Stan ‘O War II except for when she needed to employ the original crew of the ship for anything they couldn’t figure out. But that didn’t stop Mabel from being eerily cheerful, or Wendy from being stupidly chill, or Stan from telling tall tales to her crew. It didn’t stop Ford from being strangely polite and formal, or Soos from making remarks like nothing was wrong. The only one who was normal by any stretch of the margin was Dipper, who constantly scowled at them. It was a breath of fresh air. And by “fresh air” Pacifica meant “sanity”. Therefore, he was the perfect person for her to ask a burning question. And that question was . . . 

“What’s wrong with all of you?” 

Dipper crossed his arms. “You’re the one who’s got something wrong with them. You’re a teenage girl who left luxury to be a pirate captain.”

"What can I say? Spite is a powerful motivator.”

He frowned and opened his mouth as if he was about to ask who, exactly, she was spiting, but she continued before he could say anything, “What I meant was that you’re all acting like your ship being commandeered is nothing out of the ordinary. Everyone except for you. You’re like, not being weird about it. You’re actually mad.” 

“Just because they’re choosing to let you stay doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.”

“Excuse me? Choosing to let me stay?” 

“We could run you off.” It was a statement, matter-of-fact, and Pacifica found herself fully believing him. Or at least believing that he believed it. She wasn’t sure which. He added, “I think Grunkle Stan’s worried about you ‘cause you’re a teenager who somehow managed to become a pirate captain.”

Indignation filled her. “He should be worried because of me, not worried for me!” 

He shrugged, smirking. “You’re kind of cute when you’re angry.” His eyes widened. “Can we forget that I said that?”

“No, we can’t!” None of these people took her seriously! “I could make you walk the plank! I could–”

“We don’t have a plank,” he said flatly.

“Then I could just push you overboard!” 

“Somehow, I don’t think you’re going to.”

He was right. She sighed. “Don’t tell anyone that I’m this . . . soft.” 

“Ah yes, not drowning your prisoners, how soft,” he replied dryly. 

“I’m supposed to be a pirate, Dipper,” she stated flatly. “They’re– We’re –not known for their mercy.”

“You’re not known for your cruelty either.” 

“I thought you were normal,” she muttered.

“Ha. None of us are normal.” 

“I see that now. Still want to push you overboard, though.”

“No you don’t. You would’ve already done it if you really did.”

How could he see through her when they hadn’t spoken in any meaningful fashion before this? She huffed. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” 

He blushed. “And you’re lucky that–uh–um–that–” he stammered. 

She smirked, slung an arm around his shoulder, and kissed his cheek. 

“You just threatened to throw me overboard!” He said when he found his voice. 

“And you called my bluff.” 

“None of this makes sense,” he muttered, walking off in a daze. 

Dipcifica Week 2025: 8/25- Monster/ghost hunts