AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I typically will put author's notes at the end of the chapters, but since this is the prologue I wanted to give you all a heads up before you read:

Alright, so before you say anything: I know, I know... This is the third time I've re-started this story. And I'm sure many of my followers are like, "What the heck? This author sucks!". But please: bear with me. Whenever I restart a story, it's because there's a major flaw that I see that needs to be fixed. I don't want to give my readers a crappy story, so it's like I HAVE to go back and fix it. I'm a terrible perfectionist (which I'm sure is obvious).

So you're probably wondering why I went back and restarted 'Playing with Fire' again. The reason is, is that I hadn't fully fleshed out the plot yet when I first posted the story and decided that I needed to re-do it in order to fit the newer, better plot. Also, I naturally write in first person and the original 'Playing with Fire' was in third. So, it was basically a big mix of all those things that led me to re-write the story again. For the third time.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy this rendition, and I solemnly swear that this is the VERY LAST TIME I will restart the story. If I even ponder over it, you can all figuratively slap me over the internet. This time it's from Stanley's POV, though there may be a few chapters that are from Stanford's POV and some other characters (who I can't reveal at this point).

I hope you enjoy! And here's one last thing I need you to keep in mind: the main character of this story is Stanley Pines. Not Stanford Pines. Stanford is the Grunkle Stan in the show that we all know and love who owns the Mystery Shack. Stanley is (what I believe) his long lost twin brother. I have an entire theory about it; if you want to read it, go to my Tumblr (my username on Tumblr is the same: PrettyinPwn) and find it or search 'Stan Twin Theory' on Google. You'll see it there.

Stanford will be in this story (a lot), but his twin brother Stanley is the main character. Also, this story has a strange rating. Technically, it's rated 'T', but there are some moments and language that may fall under 'M'. So as not to be lumped together with scary crackfics, I'm giving it a 'T'.

BUT BE WARNED! There will be violence, gore, sexual references, and strong language at points.

*Ahem* Without further ado (and without annoying you further with this super long author's note), you may now read.

*Awkwardly stumbles off the stage*

Playing with Fire

~Prologue: Icarus~

I never enjoyed being alone. Hiding away under the covers of your bed or putting a pale book in front of your face to mask the chaotic world around you? Yes. But getting stuck in a place where it feels that everyone you've ever known and loved will never be seen again?

Not so much.

My name is Stanley Pines. That surname should be the first thing that catches your eye. Yes, I'm from the Pines family. The Pines family; bizarre and weird in every way a group of genetically related people can be and, for some strange reason, a group that always seems to get itself stuck in the middle of some paranormal situation. We don't have a 'family business' or anything like that, but it's pretty common to see at least one of us dabbling in the supernatural, whether it's exorcising a dangerous poltergeist from our barn or arguing with a gnome and his nine-hundred and ninety-nine brothers that they should cross our sister off of their marriage proposal list.

I had no idea that it was a family 'issue'. Even so, it's not like we're cursed or sworn to some secret thing or whatever; it's just an increased chance of dealing with a otherworldly creature or two in our lives.

But take that increased one percent and times it by a million and, frankly, you've described my life to a 'T'. I was ignorant of the supernatural when young (save for a feeling a few random cold spots where there shouldn't be any and knowing for sure that there certainly was a monster in my closet) and lived a relatively normal childhood. Well, as normal as being the twin of Stanford Pines can be. And before you ask, the answer is 'yes'; our parents named us Stanley and Stanford. It's still as stupid as it was when Mom and Dad first thought of it and still as awkward as it was when they first told the rest of our family at Great Aunt Gertrude's seventh wedding.

Besides turning the loud, drunken reception into a deadly quiet silence, they received a flood of brown-eyed, four-eyed, eyebrow-raised, jaw dropped stares. Or so I've been told; Aunt Gertrude never let us forget it whenever we visited her on her future husbands' funerals (and 'husband' is plural for a reason, you know). She liked recounting the way my mother's cheeks turned beet red and the way my father just shook his head and pretended that it hadn't been his idea.

Every family is a bit quirky, I guess. Ours is just... quirkier than others.

Anyways, that's not the point I'm trying to make. My main idea is that same sentence I said about... I don't know, a few minutes ago? The one where I complained, 'Take that increased one-point percent and times it by a million (no, make that a billion) and, frankly, you've described my life to a 'T'? Yeah. That one. To be honest, I never really believed in the paranormal. That is, until I stumbled upon a little Oregonian town called 'Gravity Falls'. I should've known it was going to be weird when I first heard the name, but, as always, I ignored the warning signs and went running in headfirst without giving it a second thought.

And that was my fatal mistake.

It was beautiful enough, sure, what with it being settled in a large crater between two rocky, tall bluffs and the sound of waterfalls everywhere, from the inside of my bedroom in the Shack to the deepest depths of the woods. Heck, even the fact that there are supernatural creatures there didn't bug me. To be blunt (and figurative), they took me by the scruff of my neck and, while shaking me like a lifeless doll, practically screamed at me to notice they were there, which I suppose was the second biggest mistake I made.

But the ghosts and the bigfoots and the thunderbirds aren't what you should be worried about. It's the humans in Gravity Falls that you should keep an eye on; a lot of them don't take kindly to outsiders that are smart enough to figure out their dirty little secrets.

I was warned. I was told, "Don't go for it, Stanley. You're gonna get in trouble.". But I tossed those warnings away and investigated anyways. Sure, I found what I was looking for, but I paid a heavy, heavy price.

On top of that, I lost my friends, I lost my brother, and I lost myself. Consumed by a need to know 'Who, What, Where, When, and Why', I pushed ahead, struggling through loss, danger, loneliness, and a sense that the end result was going to be less than satisfactory.

I tempted the fates and they came at me with sharp, unforgiving teeth. Simple cause and effect. But like a child, I went and threw my hand into that dangerous maw - that knowledge and those secrets - and ignored all of the instinctual common sense within me, just so that I could figure out the truth. I was brave, and I was determined. But I was reckless, and I was stupid. 'Dumber than a box of rocks.', as my brother would say.

I've suffered the consequences. Now all I can do is sit here and reflect; remember all I've done and what I can't do now. So, I ask that you sit here with me and listen to my story. The story of a young man who discovered the secrets of Gravity Falls. The story of a young man who had it all, and lost it all. The story of a young man who saw the warning sign, one that said "TRUST NO ONE", and went and trusted the people of the town anyways.

And while you listen, I want you you to get a lesson from this. A dumb, cliche' lesson that could only come from the tale of a sappy, pitiful idiot like me, who played with fire and was devoured by those flames until there was absolutely nothing left but the ashes of bitter failure:

You never know you've gone too far until it's far too late.