Outside the shack, in the thick woods, a figure lurked. He was half-hidden by a tree, which one of his dark clawed hands rested on. The mostly brunette boy had a striking resemblance to Dipper, mostly in the face, but a lot of key features were off. He had yellow slitted eyes, for example. The figure seemed to stare at the shack, worry present in his gaze.
(I tried to sort of draw in the GF style!)
- @the-bitterness-of-death
When the unusualogist had decided to take a walk in the nearby forest, he certainly hadn't expected an encounter like this.
Stanford was following an imaginary path, as he had been for the past thirty seconds. It was one he'd habitually found himself taking year after year, venture after venture. Each time his foot hit the ground it felt like an instinctual movement; muscle memory that he'd developed on his own. He was focused as he watched his brown boots rise and fall in a familiar, rhythmic pattern—so focused, in fact, that he didn't notice as the tip of his right boot jammed into a large rock, the force of it nearly causing his glasses to fly off his face.
His eyebrows shot up as he let out a cartoonish yelp, and he caught himself before he could fall. He sincerely hoped nobody saw that—that was quite embarrassing. When he lifted his head to fix his crooked glasses, he saw the sight of a mysterious but small figure peeking out from behind the bark of a nearby tree.
He blinked once, twice, scanning the figure's features from about six metres away. Oddly enough, they resembled Dipper—but he was no fool, he could tell something more was off. The yellow eyes, the clawed hands... He was certainly in for an interesting interaction.
"Who are you?" He called out, taking a few steps forward.
