Reverse Gravity

The sun hung high over Gravity Falls as Mabel and Dipper Pines wandered deep into the woods. Seventeen now, their adventures had grown bolder, but their dynamic remained the same.

Mabel skipped ahead, her pink sweater adorned with a bright shooting star standing out against the green of the trees. She twirled around, laughing as she chased a butterfly, the purple skirt she wore fluttering with each playful hop.

Dipper, meanwhile, trailed behind her, his eyes glued to the journal in his hands. He was deep into his latest monologue about some elusive forest creature. "Mabel, did you know there’s supposedly a species of cryptid out here that can mimic human speech? It's said they use it to lure people into the woods."

"Sounds like a parrot," Mabel called back, spinning around a tree, her brown hair bouncing with each step. She wasn’t paying attention to Dipper’s ramblings, but that was normal. She had her own way of exploring the forest—through sheer fun and enthusiasm.

Dipper, dressed in his usual shorts and red flannel, with the blue vest and his signature Pinetree hat firmly in place, didn’t notice either. His nose was still buried in the journal as he tried to decode some scrawled notes.

But then, Mabel stopped short, her smile fading as her eyes fell upon something—or rather, someone—lying motionless ahead. "Uh, Dipper?"

"Hm?" Dipper looked up, confused, but when he saw what Mabel was staring at, he quickly closed the journal.

There, just a few feet away, was the unconscious figure of a man dressed in an odd blue tailcoat suit. His baby blue hair, wild and unkempt, fell over his face, and his left eye was covered by a black eyepatch. Despite the mysterious and slightly eerie appearance, his face looked young—like someone in their 20s. The whole scene felt... off.

"Who’s that?" Mabel whispered, creeping closer with curiosity sparking in her eyes.

"I... I don’t know," Dipper said, eyes narrowing as he scanned the stranger. His journal was forgotten as his mind raced. "But something’s not right."

The man was completely out cold, unmoving as Mabel cautiously approached. His chest rose and fell steadily, showing he was alive, but he didn't react to their presence at all. His face, though youthful, carried a hint of something ancient, like he had seen far more than anyone his age should have. The strange suit he wore—a blue tailcoat with black brick-like patterns—seemed pristine, despite his unceremonious arrival in the dirt and leaves.

Mabel knelt down beside him, her playful energy now replaced by genuine curiosity and a hint of concern. "Dipper, he looks like he just fell out of the sky or something." She poked at his tailcoat lightly, wrinkling her nose. "And why is he dressed like he’s going to a fancy party?"

Dipper slowly approached, his expression cautious. "I don’t know, Mabel. This doesn’t feel like an accident. No one just ends up out here dressed like... this." His gaze dropped to the man’s covered eye, the scar peeking out from underneath the eyepatch.

"Do you think he’s dangerous?" Mabel asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her excitement now tempered with a little worry.

Dipper furrowed his brow, running through the possibilities in his head. He crouched down, hesitating before lightly shaking the man’s shoulder. "Hey... can you hear me?"

No response. The man remained completely unconscious, as if in a deep, dreamless sleep.

Dipper exchanged a glance with Mabel, his unease growing. "We should probably check to see if he’s okay," he suggested, though the doubt lingered in his voice. "But we need to be careful."

Mabel nodded, her playful spirit replaced by a protective instinct. She reached out and gently touched the man’s arm. "He feels warm," she noted, her voice soft with concern. "Maybe he just needs some time to wake up."

With a deep breath, Dipper glanced around, inspecting the area carefully, searching for any signs of danger—disturbed ground, strange markings, anything that might explain how the man had ended up here. “Let’s not hang around here too long. We have no idea how he got here, and there could be something out there that brought him."

“Or someone,” Mabel added, her eyes darting around the trees, half-expecting something to leap out at them. “What if he’s lost or hurt? We can’t just leave him here.”

Dipper sighed, conflicted. Mabel wasn’t wrong—they couldn’t leave someone like this out in the middle of the woods. But they also didn’t know if he was dangerous. His whole appearance seemed off, and there was something nagging at Dipper, a feeling that this man wasn’t just an ordinary traveler.

Still, they couldn’t ignore the situation. "Okay," Dipper said after a moment, standing up straighter. "Let’s move him to the Mystery Shack. We can figure out what’s going on once we get him somewhere safe."

Mabel grinned, relief washing over her. "Good idea, bro! Besides, maybe Grunkle Ford will know something about him. He’s dealt with weirder, right?"

Dipper nodded, though he couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that this stranger was tied to something much bigger. Together, they bent down and carefully hoisted the unconscious man up, heading back toward the shack. As they carried him, the forest seemed to grow quieter, the air heavier, as if holding its breath in anticipation of what was to come.

As Mabel and Dipper maneuvered through the underbrush, they kept a steady grip on the unconscious man, his slim frame surprisingly light for someone his size. The forest seemed to close in around them, the towering trees casting long shadows in the fading light. The usual sounds of wildlife had quieted, leaving only the crunch of leaves underfoot and the occasional rustle of branches.

Mabel focused on keeping a brisk pace, occasionally glancing back at the stranger to reassure herself that he was still there—and more importantly, still breathing. His face, though calm in unconsciousness, stirred something in her.

“Do you think he’ll wake up soon?” Mabel asked, her voice low, filled with a mix of hope and concern.

Dipper shrugged, glancing down at the man’s scarred face and eyepatch, his mind racing with possibilities. “I’m not sure. Maybe he hit his head or something. Whatever happened, it wasn’t normal.” He paused, feeling that familiar sense of unease growing. “This doesn’t feel like an accident.”

Mabel bit her lip, her grip tightening on the man’s arm. “You think he’s dangerous?”

“I don’t know yet,” Dipper admitted, his eyes darting to the journal he had tucked under his arm. “But if he’s connected to anything like what we’ve seen before, we need to be ready.”

Mabel nodded but couldn’t help feeling sorry for the stranger. Whoever he was, whatever had happened, he was in trouble. And as much as she loved adventure, she couldn’t shake the worry gnawing at her.

As they continued toward the Mystery Shack, the air seemed to thicken with tension, the quiet surrounding them growing more oppressive. And with each step they took, they could only wonder who, or what, they had just brought into their lives.