#controlspines

As they rode on the bus to their new home Greg was listing all the fruit he knew by name, “Strawberries, Watermelon, grapefruit, cantaloupe, grapes, cherries... tomatoes? Tomatoes are fruit right Wirt?” Their parents had to wait for the moving van so the two boys were on the bus alone together. Greg suddenly climbed onto Wirt and looked out the window, “Wirt! Wirt! I think we’re here! Gravity Wall! No Falls!”

How many times had he found himself walking this same, winding path into the forest since returning to Gravity Falls? How many more times had this same pathway appeared in his nightmares in the months he’d spent back in California? The past summer had left its scars on the mind of Dipper Pines, and not a day had gone by where he hadn’t feared that something horrible would happen while he and Mabel were away from their uncles, unable to help. Now that summer had come again and they were back in Oregon, Dipper had taken to trekking deep into the forest almost daily to be sure the statue of Bill Cipher remained untouched and lifeless.

Each and every visit so far had yielded nothing; no changes, not so much as a nearby branch out of place. Mabel had stopped accompanying him after only a few days. Told him he was being paranoid and that seeing the statue creeped her out too much. He’d dared not told Stan or Ford, lest they lecture him about being foolish or it being dangerous or any number of things. So for the last week and a half, he had been making the journey alone. 

Maybe Mabel had been right. Maybe he was just letting the past haunt him. After all, there had been nothing before, why should today be any dif---

Wait.

Dipper stopped dead and stared, not at the statue, but at the ground in front of it. Someone lay there, apparently unconscious. He didn’t know if it had anything to do with Bill or the statue, or if it was just a coincidence (though was anything ever coincidence in this town?) but either way, he hurried over to their side and placed his fingers on their pulse. They were alive. Good. But they still needed help.

The water was calm and blue and sparkling. Stanley Pines was leaning on the side of the boat- the Stan o’ War II, smiling, enjoying the pleasant rocking of the ship and the warmth of the sun.

He and his brother had been going after horrific sea creatures earlier in the dream- planning on selling the massive, writhing tentacles at the next market they came across for a quick buck. Dream Ford was surprisingly agreeable compared to the real thing.

But the voice- loud and demanding, startled him. When he opened his eyes, the sky was no longer a beautiful blue. There was a storm on the horizon.

Instantly, the tranquility melted away as he backed away from the side of the boat, taking on a defensive stance. The triangle had been punched into oblivion- he remembered that very clearly- so how had he managed to worm his way into his dream?