Dipper Pines– paranormal hunter. At least, he considered himself something like that. That’s why he was out at night, walking through the forest, in the cold. Not because he lost his way to the Mystery Shack…

Hey, sometimes, a little gaslighting goes a long way!

The woods around him was dark. Dipper held the red Journal Three against himself as he walked, taking in the sights as he searched. The branches were covered in snow, dripping with icicles. The ground was like a piece of paper, adorned with his footprints. As he struggled to find his way back– I mean, as he tried to find something paranormal– he felt himself falling.

Where he stood, a sheet of ice was hidden completely, covered by the thick snow. He lost his balance, dropping the Journal and falling. He couldn’t tell what fully happened, but he blacked out before he could even attempt to guess.

He awoke a few hours later, unfamiliar of his surroundings. Dipper noticed that the place seemed like a cabin, but a very small one at best. He found himself lying on the couch, his leg carefully propped up with an ice pack resting on his ankle. As he tried to move, he winced. His ankle hurt like hell… and that’s when he noticed you, sitting on the other side of him.