Chapter Text
"So you're staying for the whole summer?" Your friend inquired excitedly over the phone. "I never heard of Gravity Falls before! I've done some research and you won't believe what I've found! Insane local legends, government conspiracies, strange deaths and disappearances... It's got everything! Did you say your dad knew someone who lived there?"
You adjusted your binder before answering, "Mhm. Stanford Pines, I think he said. Apparently they were college friends."
"Woah..." Your friend gasped, clearly lost in thought. "What's Oregon like?"
"Well, I haven't seen that much of it yet," you pointed out. "I just got here. Although, I will say that there are a lot of trees. Very different from Kansas."
She laughed and then yawned, "Ah, I think it's bed time for me."
You furrowed your brows, "Isn't it only 7 there?"
"I had a long day, give me a break, ____!" She whined.
You smiled and let her be, saying your goodnights. You started to unpack your things, arranging everything neatly into drawers and lining them up on the top of the dresser. You giggled as you organized a nice little art corner, tapping your feet.
Your dad, David Hemmingson, was a very smart man. He had a PhD in hyper-advanced mechanical engineering, meanwhile your passions were in a near opposite field. Art was your passion, your true way of expressing yourself. Not necessarily in a emotional touchy feely way that your art teachers always tried to describe, but you drew what you wanted. You made little characters and played out their lives in their head. You figured it would be much easier to live in a cartoon than in reality, where nobody really understood you.
You were always the weird kid. Either too loud or too quiet... Too social or too introverted... Too emotional or too apathetic... You were never quite able to fit into these social rules that you could never quite understand. It's always "Be yourself!" Until you're autistic.
Suddenly, you hear a knock on the door. "_____? Can I come in or do you want me to talk through the door?" There was a strict knocking rule between you and your dad. When he was working, it was very important that he had no other sensory or else he'd get stressed out. Your boundaries were respected, too, in case you were having a meltdown.
"Yeah, come in!" You called.
Your dad walked in looking rather awkward as he looked around, avoiding eye contact, "You got settled in nicely." He said in an almost monotone voice. "You should probably get some rest, we have a big day tomorrow."
"I know," you smiled wide, snapping your fingers. "We're going to see your friend."
"Yes," your dad chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment before turning to leave. "Try to get some sleep. And I mean actually try, not just lay in bed on your phone reading your fan made fiction writings."
You salute, "Will do, Sargent Dad! Love you!"
"Love you too, gizmo," you could hear the smile in his voice as he said your childhood nickname.
As soon as he left and closed the door, you took off your binder and crawled into bed, closing your eyes. You were excited to meet your father's friend.
The next morning, you heard your dad's heavy footsteps in the other room. He set you two up in a cozy two room hotel suite that you were really excited about. (The tub had jets! How fancy!)
You slowly found an escape from the comfy warmth prison that was the blankets, popped every joint in your body, and got dressed. You figured you'd be walking a lot today, so you put on your lightest binder. Then, you settled on a tan sweater and straight-legged blue jeans. Was it basic? Yes. Was it comfortable? Also yes.
"Good morning, dad!" You cheer as you leave your room. Your dad is sitting on the foldout couch, sipping some coffee.
"Good morning, gizmo. There's some coffee and toast on the table there," he gestured to the coffee table with a leg that he had crossed over the other. "Eat quickly because we're leaving in 15."
You nod and quickly consume the small meal your father made for you. Next thing you know, you two rush out to your father's scratched up white SUV and hit the road. You looked at as much stuff as you could. This town, although small, had some interesting places. Lazer tag, an arcade, a small family diner, and a junkyard where you could've sworn you heard someone yelling hillbilly swears in.
On top of a hill was the Northwest Mansion, now owned by a Fiddleford Hendron McGucket. At least that's what your father said. There were also several signs pointing towards the "Mystery Shack".
"We'll be visting there soon," your dad promises when you ask about it. "That's where my friend used to live."
Suddenly, your dad takes a right turn into the woods. You drive in silence amongst the towering Oregon trees. They loomed over like ancient guardians, withholding secrets up in the foggy treetops. After a while of silence, you can see a charming cabin come into view. It was seemingly in its final stages of construction.
"The Pineses rebuilt a new house after they sold the Mystery Shack," your father explains.
You stand behind your dad as he rings the doorbell. A few seconds pass and an old man with a beer gut and raspy voice opens the door.
"Whaddya want?" He frowns.
"Is there a Stanford Pines residing here? My son and I are staying here at Gravity Falls for the summer, and Stanford is an old friend of mine."
The old man looks between you and your father skeptically and grumbles under his breath before turning and shouting into the house, "Hey, Sixer! You got guests!"
You hear speedy footsteps throughout the house before a new face appears at the door. He looked related to the old man. Brothers perhaps?
"David? Is it really you? Geez it's been over 40 years since I've seen you..." The man who you assume to be Stanford greets you. "Please, come in. Stanley, tell the kids that we have guests."
The old man, Stanley, nods and walks off grouchily.
You and your father walk in and seat yourself on an old leather couch. Stanford comes with you and sits on a recliner next to you. You take a better look at Stanford. He was an older gentleman, around the same age as your dad. He clearly took care of himself, though. He was freshly shaved, well dressed, and obviously fit. Fit enough that he could crush you if he wanted to.
He and your father caught up over the course of an hour and a half. You were brought up once, but just about your birth.
"And what of the mother?" Stanford asks.
"Gone."
A misty look glosses over your father's eyes, "They're right. My wife died two years after _____ was born."
"I'm sorry," Stanford consoled. An awkward, heavy silence laid over the trio before you piped up.
"Thank you for having us over, Dr. Pines," you chirped.
"Anything for an old friend," he dismissed your statement formally. "Also, please, call me Ford."
Ford seemed so silent and formal. He was clearly very intelligent like your father. Brains AND brawn. There was no way you'd ever be able to win if you got in a fight with him. Not that you were planning to fight him... You're not sure why that just popped into your head.
You grew bored of the long conversation between Ford and your father, so you decided to take a look around. The house was covered in all sorts of trinkets, doodads, and thingamajigs. Suddenly, you hear a shrill voice.
"Mabel! Stop! You're interupting my dungeon making!"
You follow the voice and see a young boy with a blue pine tree hat pushing away a girl in a sweater covered in glitter and the remains of a recent arts and crafts project. On the table, to your surprise, were the blueprints to a game of Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons. Was this kid making a game from scratch? Impressive.
You sit down at the table silently and start looking over everything while snapping your fingers. After a second, you look up to see the two siblings looking at you.
"Um... Do you play?" The boy asked. "I-I can show you what I have so far!"
You nod vehemently, "Yes, please! I'm _____ Hemmingson, by the way."
"Dipper Pines! And this is my ever excited sister, Mabel."
"Blarg!" She yelled out. "If you two are gonna talk about nerd stuff, I'm going upstairs with Waddles."
She quickly ran off to wherever upstairs was.
"Waddles is her pet pig," Dipper explained.
"You guys have a pig?" You asked curiously.
"And a goat too... Sort of. The goat stays outside."
Dipper was fairly easy to get along with, and he clearly knew a lot about D&D&D. You listened carefully as he rambled. From what you understood, Dipper plays with Ford and they take turns DMing. This week was his turn and he was trying to really stump Ford, which was hard because he had 12 PhDs. 12! That's 11 more than your father! You and Dipper keep talking until you hear your dad call out.
"______! It's getting late! Time to go back to the hotel!"
You quickly hop up from the table and wave to Dipper, "Today was fun! I'll see you around?"
"You bet!" Dipper laughed excitedly.
You meet up with your dad at the door and tell him about the kid you met and how you talked about D&D&D. Ford looked like he wanted to say something but kept his mouth shut. Was he destined to look deathly serious for all of eternity? It was almost intimidating. Ford and your dad shook hands and sent you two off.
The drive through the town during sunset was much different. It was very charming, but also eerie in a way you couldn't explain.
When you got back to the hotel, you quickly took off your binder and practically crash landed onto your bed. It wasn't long until you fell into a deep sleep.
You were... At the Pineses cabin? How did you get here? It looked just how you remembered it from earlier yet it was... Different. You didn't know how, but it was different. You walk into the house, but quickly catch yourself as you see the giant spiral staircase leading down into a great abyss. Against your better judgement, you walk down.
It felt like you've been walking for hours. It was awful. The darkness was cold and you could smell screams... Somehow... When you were starting to debate turning around and going back, there was a light. You were nearing the bottom. You sped up and reached a large doorway with stone walls. The walls seemed to have ancient symbols on them written in red... Was that blood? You sure hope not! You peer into the room. It was lit up by torches that seemed to burn entire by themselves with no actual fuel needed. In the center of the room was a... Stone twig...? It looked like a regular twig that you could've picked up outside, but upon observing closer, you could see it was entirely made of stone.
"Break it... Break it..." The walls whispered. You slowly brought your hand to the twig, and as soon as you touched it, you heard a smooth yet booming voice ring through your mind. Shivers ran down your spine as every one of your hairs stood on end.
"Hello, David."
You awoke with a start. It was still dark outside; you looked at your clock, reading the blaring red lights.
2:37
Welp, you're going to be up for a while.
Hello, David.
David... Why did the voice call you by your father's name? Who or what even was that?
Why do you feel like something terrible is coming...?