Chapter Text
Stanford Pines was not a man to be easily surprised by the strange. He had moved to Gravity Falls precisely to study it, after all.
However, he did not expect this.
Not to be slammed onto the cold forest ground with such force that his vision flickered. Not to feel grass scraping the back of his scalp, dirt pressing against his coat, or his heartbeat pounding fast, and aching in his chest like it was trying to escape.
And definitely not to look up and see that.
A man —or what looked like a man— pinning him down. Blonde hair falling over sharp cheekbones, messy and wild like he’d been running for his life. Eyes glowing a deep, molten gold that seemed to shift with every uneven breath. Horns curling from the side of his head, dark and smooth, along a pair of wings tucked tight and trembling behind his shoulders.
He was beautiful.
Terrifying... but beautiful in a way that made Ford’s brain short-circuit.
The man looked scared too. A tail moving in small, panicked flicks against the ground was a confirmation of this.
His pupils were blown wide, his chest rising and falling too fast. His hands shook where they pressed against Ford’s wrists, like he wasn’t sure if Ford was a threat.
Ford swallowed hard. He should probably be screaming, or fighting back. At least trying to roll away and make a run for his life.
But the creature’s beauty hit him, it was hypnotic and unreal. He couldn’t look away. Even with fear spiking through him, he couldn’t stop staring.
...
Now, you might be wondering… what the fuck is happening?
Allow me to rewind.
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Despite being neck-deep in the strange and unknown, the uncertain was not a territory Stanford enjoyed. So he stuck to a routine as mundane as he could manage.
Early week mornings: coffee, a piece of toast, and then straight into the forest to study whatever anomaly had caught his interest. Right now, it was a parasitic fungus that seemed to grow only from carcasses of anomalies. He had found it feasting on a unicorn's carcass, pulsing in a way he did not like.
Not the prettiest thing he’d ever found but not the worst either way.
On weekends, however, things took an entirely different ritual. A visit to Greasy’s Diner, some pancakes, coffee, and a booth he’d practically claimed as his own. He took out one of his journals —the messy one he used for quick notes— and wrote a simple record of his latest findings. He’d rewrite everything properly at home.
People may call his system impractical with the new technologies available, but typing on a laptop didn’t compare to the feeling of pen on paper. It just wasn’t the same.
He began writing but his mind couldn't stick to the paper and ink.
It wasn’t often he found himself daydreaming about things, or someone, to be particular. He just couldn't seem to drag his mind away from this thought about the strange woman he had heard of.
His fascination started days earlier, after an incident in the forest.
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“Okay, let me get this straight,” Ford said, crouching down in the dirt. His boots sank a little into the mud, and a low fog hugged the forest floor. He flipped open his journal, pen tapping anxiously against the paper. “You’re saying a… woman? Ate one of your kind?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying!” the gnome shouted, practically vibrating with outrage. The little creature’s beard was frizzed out like he’d been electrocuted, and his conical hat sat crooked on his head from all his frantic gesturing.
“A human woman?” Ford repeated, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah! Long blonde hair! And she tried to kill me too!”
Ford blinked.
“…Right. And how exactly did that happen?”
The gnome puffed out his cheeks.
“We saw her eating a deer! Right there, by the riverbank! And we all loved her beautiful hair and decided she’d make a great queen. Y’know, before the rival gnome clans got to her first.” He jabbed a tiny thumb toward his chest. “We were claiming her fair and square!”
Ford dragged a hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. He already felt the headache forming.
“And then?”
“She tore my friend apart!” the gnome bellowed. “Ate him whole and smiled! With teeth! Pointy ones!”
Ford paused, looking up from his notes.
“Pointy teeth?”
“Super pointy!”
He sighed, scribbling another line in his journal despite the rising suspicion the gnomes were just making this up to mess with him.
“Are you absolutely sure she was human?” he asked and the gnome hesitated, scratching behind his ear.
“Well… she looked human. Kinda. Mostly. She had arms and legs and hair and...stuff.”
“That’s not the same thing as human,” Ford muttered, snapping his notebook shut. “Alright. Thanks for the information.”
“Are you gonna avenge my friend?” the gnome asked hopefully. Ford stood, dusting off his knees.
“I’m going to… investigate.”
Which, translated from Stanford Pines language, meant: Maybe later
Gnomes had poor vision, they had probably confused the Mothman for a pretty woman…again.
-----
Back to the present, Ford took one last bite of his pancakes and called it a day. He would resume his work once at home.
He left a tip on the table, shrugged on his coat, and stepped out of the diner into the cool morning air.
He got into his car, turned the key, and pulled onto the road that cut past the forest line. The trees pressed close to the asphalt today, like they were leaning in to whisper.
Or leaning against someone.
There was a figure standing perfectly still between the trees.
Blonde hair, bare shoulders and skin kissed by the sun that was now hiding behind the clouds.
And eyes... eyes glowing, faint but unmistakably so.
Ford slammed the brakes, tires screeching on the asphalt.
He looked back at where he thought he saw someone, but only an empty spot remained.
It just vanished. Not a run or a blur. Just gone, as though the forest swallowed them whole.
A cold shiver crept down Ford’s spine.
“Great,” he muttered. “I'm going insane.”
He forced himself to keep driving, though every instinct screamed at him to turn around, but the further he went, the stranger the trees looked.
Something pale clung to the roots, clusters of the fungus he’d been studying. Except now there was more of it. Much more.
He pulled over once he reached his shack, stepping out slowly, boots sinking into damp earth.
The fungal patches pulsed faintly, as though breathing. They were fresh and spreading fast.
A trail of spore dust led deeper into the woods.
Ford followed it, heart hammering. This hadn't been here before. Just what the hell is happening?
His answer came in the form of a unicorn carcass, collapsed in the moss.
Still warm, the smell of blood rising faintly from the torn flesh. It was fresh enough for blood to still pour from its meat.
The fungus didn't care, it was already crawling up its legs, feeding and feasting.
The marks on the body... that wasn't the doing of an animal or any anomaly he knew.
Maybe the gnomes weren't lying...
The fungus spread even deeper, taking in everything it could and covering the flesh so fast it seemed to be decaying.
Ford staggered back, bile rising in his throat.
“What the hell happened…?”