Chapter Text
“Shit!”
It was the first thing I slurred as I bumble-assed my way out of a goth club fucked up and pissed.
Of course, the group I went out with ditched me, doing who knows what the hell they were off doing in downtown Pomona. I sighed and pulled out my phone, anxiety spiking like crazy as my hazy eyes struggled to focus and figure out a way home. I ran a hand through my dreadlocks, a poor attempt to calm myself.
Maybe I should call my mom?
Naw fuck that, she'd just hit me with the “I told you so” crap. I don’t need help—I can figure this shit out myself. like I always do.
I paced the sidewalk, drunkenly fumbling through the Uber app.
Fuck. I just had to look extra cute tonight, didn’t I? I was internally screaming as I smoothed down the back of the black skirt and corset combo. I mean, it’s a goth club—what else was I supposed to wear? Besides, it's an amazing tactic to get free drinks and all of the dancing partners I could dream of.... now look where that got me. too drunk to even see straight as I stood there completely alone.
Ugh! This entire night was a disaster. What else could possibly go wrong?
...Well, I could get mugged. Or attacked.....
Yeah, I should keep moving. Standing around alone, at night, cross-faded, in this ghetto-ass neighborhood? Not ideal.
I slipped my book bag from my shoulder and pulled out my pocket knife. Call me paranoid—but I’d rather be safe than sorry.
With drunken determination, I walked down the sidewalk, not even noticing I’d stepped into the street while typing my address into the app—until I heard tires screaming down the road…
Pure cold terror struck me and gripped my soul as my head shot up, and I was blinded by headlights.
The fear punched all the air from my lungs before the car could. I was frozen. Time slowed. I closed my eyes and braced for impact. One thought ran through my mind:
Would my family be fine without me?
I expected to be crushed… but instead, there was a pressure, and then a sensation of falling—wind rushing past me—
CRASH.
Pain exploded through my back—but… I don’t think I was hit by the car. More like… I hit the car. Pretty sure I landed on top of it.
Specifically, in the windshield, as in my back was now painfully embedded in the windshield.
Well… at least I’m not dead.
My dazed thoughts were cut short by a panicked, gruff voice yelling expletives as the driver’s side door flew open.
Ugh. Getting hit by a car is so embarrassing, I kinda wish it had killed me.
I cracked open my eyes—and the first thing that hit me was… daylight. This was wrong. It was at least midday and bitterly cold.... my shaky breath forming a visible mist in the air in front of my eyes.
It was cold, my bare limbs numbing. This was colder than anywhere in Southern Cali, even up in the mountains. Way below 30°F.
Secondly, I was facing the road. If I’d been hit by the car and rolled up onto the windshield, there’s no way I would’ve landed like this—
“Sweet Moses tootes! Where did you even come from? You FUCKINGFELLOUTOFTHE SKY! Are.... hey, are you alive?”
That voice.... It....
No.... absolutely not....
No. Freaking. Way.
I turned my head toward the man—
No fucking way.
He wore a beanie and a red fur-lined jacket. Shaggy shoulder-length mullet. Big-ass nose.
No no nononono NO. This can’t be real.
It was Stanley freaking Pines.
I think I actually died and ended up in… Gravity Falls. I stared slack-jawed at Stan. Oh shit, the more my eyes focussed the more I could fully take in the gravity of the situation. Heh, get it. NO THIS IS NOT THE TIME FOR PUNS.... I'm genuanly so fucked my mind struggled to comprehend.
He seemed younger. He wasn’t sporting his fez or gray hair, but he instead had a youthful brown mullet, no wrinkles except for the tired bags under his eyes.
“Buh… I think so?” I croaked, every nerve in my body screaming.
Stan and I just… stared at each other, both dumbfounded.
Shitshitshitshitshit! What the hell do I do?! Not only did I fall into another dimension, I landed in the past—I’M TRAPPED IN 1980s GRAVITY FALLS.
I couldn’t even speak. Luckily, Stan did.
“...You better be able to pay for the damage or so help me God,” he muttered, offering me a hand.
I grasped it. He pulled me off the smashed windshield with a surprising amount of strength. My boots hit the pavement, and he helped steady me.
“Okay, toots, you look alive. Thank God—I don’t need another hit-and-run on my record.”
“Another?” I dumbly mumbled as Stan imeditaly turned his attention on the damaged I caused.
“OH COME ON! MY CAR! What did I do to deserve this?!” Stan buried his face in his hands.
Jeez, I feel so bad, even though… falling from the sky wasn’t on purpose, I know stan can't afford to fix his car.
Shit, I bet he spent whatever he had left to get to Oregon.
I took stock of what I had on me as Stan was busy with his despair, I realized I still had my phone and knife in hand. I quickly placed both items in my bag.
Ok, I still had some cash on me, I was preparing a table to sell prints of my art… I guess I could kiss that goodbye.
Fuck!
I took a deep breath to calm myself down and get back to the task at hand.... I have a couple thousand in cash in an envelope, maybe this could hold me over for a while...
It’s the 80’s how expensive could shit be?
I tentatively placed my hand on Stan’s broad shoulder, trying to comfort him before I spoke up.
“Hey uhh, don’t worry Stan I can help pay… but you gotta help me out first,” I spoke through my chattering teeth. I should keep the fact that I have cash on me currently… don’t want Stan to rob me.
Stan looked up, suspicious. “How do you know my name?”
Shit. I kicked myself internally, he hadn’t even introduced himself to me yet. Quick, think fast!
“I uhhh, your license plate says “stan mobile” on it, I just assumed that was your name…”
My excuse wasn’t very convincing, but there were more important matters at hand. I was shaking from the cold, and my fingers were starting to hurt from the low temperature.
“Right… c’mere, you're starting to turn blue, get in the car to warm up.”
He gruffly offered, probably out of pity. He opened the car door for me gesturing for me to get inside… I hesitated, sure Stan was a good enough guy in the show… but how do I know how much of this dimension was like the kid's show I loved? Can I trust him?
“Before I change my mind, toots.”
Eh, better than freezing to death, I suppose. I stepped into the car and closed the door behind me.
Yep, as gross as I would expect from a grifter living out of his car.
Stan was standing outside the car deep in thought, his brows were furrowed, and he looked beyond stressed and greatly confused. I sat back in the seat, hissing from the pain of my bruised back. My brain reeled as I fought back cringe when my hand landed on a mysterious sticky substance on the seat.
What do I do now?!
Wait… if this was the right time in the timeline, then maybe… Ford was also in Gravity Falls,
Perhaps he could help me?
It’s risky. But he’s my only shot. Time to channel my inner manipulative damsel. Ugh—acting girly and helpless makes me want to rip the flesh from my bones, but I need to be smart to survive this.
And hey—I’ve got Gravity Falls knowledge on my side. I can use it to my advantage.
Stan stepped into the car, and we both sat in silence before he spoke up.
“This is so fucking crazy, first off, why did you fall from the sky, were did you come from and-” he looked me up and down. “Why are you dressed like the babe of the living dead!?”
I actually chuckled at that.
“I honestly don’t know. One minute I was walking in California, leaving a club… then headlights… next thing I knew, I was falling. Then I crashed—”
“On top of my pride and joy?”
I smiled sheepishly. “Yeah… now I’m… where am I exactly?”
The car wasn’t as cold as it was outside of it… But it wasn’t much better. I hugged myself and rubbed my bare shoulders and arms, trying to create as much heat from the friction. Dog, my goosebumps got goosebumps. I should have worn a shirt under the corset…
“Gravity Falls.” He paused. “If I didn’t see you fall out of the sky, I’d assume you broke out of a loony bin.”
I cringed at the wording, God damn it, it’s gonna be hard being stuck in the 80s. Alright, time to woo him with my feminine wiles. I mentally rolled my eyes before I shivered dramatically and leaned into him. “Thank you for letting me in. I wasn’t dressed for this weather. Without you, I don’t know what I’d do.” I slowly placed my hand on top of his thigh, and he visibly stiffened.
I nuzzled into his red, and very stained, wool-lined sweater. I looked up at Stan, mustering up the biggest saddest doe eyes I can. His face was dusted with a light flush, he bashfully scratched the nape of his neck. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pressing me securely into his side.
“Hey kid, it’s not a problem at all, I’m always happy to help pretty dames in need.” He boasted in classic Stanley Pines fashion.
This is both the worst and best thing to ever happen to me.
Wind and snow whipped outside the car.
Please, please let this be the day Ford gets shoved into the portal
“Oh, Shit it’s really coming down…” I placed my hand on his chest, his breath hitched, and his flush intensified....
I got him right where I wanted him.
I coyly shifted my gaze off to the side as I spoke, “I’m sure that… I could have fallen into some sort of wormhole or a tear in the fabric of reality to end up here. Real science fiction crap… You seem like a guy who knows a guy. Do you, I don’t know, happen to know a scientist who could help me?”
great real smooth (y/n) real smooth.
I saw him considering my words, debating something for a couple of quiet, anxiety-ridden seconds. He looked out the car window, staring into the dark woods, then back to me, back out to the snow, then back to me again.
“Meh, fuck it why not! Yeah, I know somebody who could help you… If he will is uh, well, up in the air. But what kind of man would I be if I left you out in the cold?” Relief flooded my system at his words. I threw my arms around him.
“Oh my gosh! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever, kid, besides… You owe me big-time, I can’t have you running off before paying up.” Ah, classic Stan.
I pulled back and settled into the seat. It was still freezing, but somehow… it felt surreal to be huddled up with Stanley Pines, of all people.
At least the crash seemed to have sobered me up... somewhat, at least.
I was exhausted—aching in places I didn’t know I could ache. Stan leaned into the backseat, brushing aside a pile of crumpled takeout boxes to retrieve a worn, slightly stained blanket. He gave it a once-over, shrugged, and handed it to me.
“Best I can do, kid.”
“Thanks, man.” I wrapped it around my shoulders, trying not to think too hard about what mystery stains might be on it.
Stan started the car. The engine coughed to life, and the heater sputtered out a gust of lukewarm air. The radio kicked on, crackling momentarily before Hall & Oates’ “Out of Touch” hummed through the speakers. The nostalgic tune hit me like a brick, and my anxiety burned a hole in my guts as we made our way down the road.
What the hell have I gotten myself into....
“Shit.”
END OF CHAPTER