"Peek-a-boo."
I'm like, the most optimistic-est person you will ever meet, like gosh I break the scale.
But even this is a bit – much. Like, a little more than even the great Mabel Pines, Glitter and Funtimes and Boys (kinda) Friends and Awesomeness Extraordinaire herself can handle, and I am…
Not really able to find a good side to this –
Situation. Yeah. That's a serious and stuff word. It fits.
An utter catastrophe, my bro-bro'd prob'ly say. But then he says a lot of words he doesn't even know the meaning of, and that sounds more like a great opportunity for a cat pun than anything even remotely nearing appropriateness levels required for the mess – Because I'm not stupid, I'll admit that things aren't going great – that we are currently stuck in.
This – weird, flashy beam of light lifts us up and makes my hair float, and if this was any other time I'd ask why Dip-Dop's hat ain't floating like the rest of the unattached stuff is.
Oh well. Maybe it can defy physics… That would be awesometasticsauceumness.
That's a word. It's in my very definitive, totally legit dictionary of Rad-Tastic Words for the Nineties Wannabe Kid, which is supermegagosh awesome and totally not the thing I should be focusing on, because evil isosceles guy is floatin' us up into the air, and yeah I should listen to what he's saying because that's very, very important.
He doesn't actually say anything, unfortunately.
What? Can't I wish for a generic b-movie villain monologue? Those are the best, and the hero always defeats them that say it, so maybe it's kinda more for my optimism than anything else, but whatever it's not important now.
Because Billy-Silly-Evil-Dorito (because he's a triangle, see, and I need to not fear him) is carrying us back into the creepy live-statue-people-throne room, and as when we left a little time back, our grunkles are still stuck in that weird blue light cage of theirs; like we were except they're old men, not brother and sister, and don't have a can of spray paint and a magic flashlight to help them escape.
Bummer. That's a thing that happens surprisingly often. Y'know, for something that should probably not actually happen, like – At all.
It's cool. So not the point right now, though.
"Alright Ford, time's up!"
There it is! Villain-speak. Where you say stuff for dramatic effect and to scare people and things and animals and stuffed bears.
Yeah, my Bear-O is the best, legitimately.
(I'm not sure what that means, exactly. Oops.)
So, we're – me and Dippin' Dots – are struggling, while Dorito Dude is sayin' stuff –
"I've got the kids!" He sing-songs, and gosh am I never gonna do that again.
"I think I'm gonna kill one of them now, just for the heck of it!"
Wait what.
I stop struggling, and just kinda stare at the guy, because if my life were some kinda TV show I'm pretty sure it'd be a kids one, because of all the wholesome messages like punching Unicorns is great because nobody can tell you you aren't a good person, and how romance isn't everything except when it is, and also how jealously gets you nowhere except when it does – and also how the end of the world can happen when a little girl makes a stupid, stupid mistake no-one else would have ever made.
Ah. Not that I'm saying anything by that; aside from the fact that I am and it's obviously about me and my general silliness.
(If only I'd been smarter, and less trusting, we wouldn't be in this mess.
So basically; if only I were a more awesome (not that you ain't awesome, Dipping Sauce) and female version of my Bro.
Simples.)
I can do that easy.
Kinda. It's not that hard to be foolhardishly brave, right?
(Not that Dip isn't intelligent – 'cause he is, and yes, also sometimes too smart for his own good – but when it comes to those he cares about my brother would sacrifice himself in a heartbeat.
Himself, and anything he's worked for.
Who would sacrifice everything they've worked for, just for their dumb sibling?
Dipper would.)
(So I guess I'll just have to be like Dipper.)
"Eenie, Meenie, Miney…"
Bill snaps his fingers, his eye flashing with a red beam, from pine tree to shooting star-
From Dipper to me to Dipper to me to Dipper –
And I can't. Because if anyone's gonna be chosen, Dipper doesn't deserve to be.
He's not the one who let the guy here in the first place. Not the one who spent three, four days trapped inside a world of their own making where they changed their gosh-darn family into 'more awesome versions' of themselves.
I figure sometimes those Unicorns were right, in a way.
"Wait!" I cry out, desperate – and they all know it. I don't look at Dipper, Mason, because –
I don't think I could stand the look on his face.
He'd never want this, I know that – but I can't just let him die.
That breaks the big sister code. No matter if it's only by a few minutes.
Bill stops from snapping his fingers at the last second, and turns his eye beam to me.
My grunkles are probably standing in shocked silence right about now, but I can't see them to tell either way.
We're lowered to the ground, and Dipper's put away in his own little cage, flashlight cast aside a bit back and not able to be used.
"Well well well, shooting star. If this isn't a surprise."
I think I have every right to gulp in fear and nervousness and guilt and fear and nervousness and guilt –
So I do. Figures if he looks at me, the others could do –
Something.
Bill pauses. His eye flashes – the forest, the weird globe thing, blendin, my bubble –
And I go cold. Because I know what they signify, and the others don't, and I was kinda maybe possibly most definitely wishing I'd never ever ever ever have to tell them anything ever about that terribleness.
It was a mistake. Even I can own up to that.
(A stupid, gosh-darn awful terrible horrible choice, that I made, and should take full responsibility for.)
"And what should I 'wait' for, Shooting Star?" He changed to red, the more demonic voice ringing out and stinging my ears.
"AnYthing TO SAY iN ParTICUlaR?"
I swallowed. Hard. There's no optimistic spin, no cheerful take, no nothing. It's a whole bunch of nothing, and I'm panicking.
Internally. Externally – I've always been able to fake things, in a way, so I just hope it only shows enough to keep the Demon's attention.
Hopefully.
"…" For once, I find myself out of words to say.
"Not – please." I start, stumbling. "I – not – not Dipper, please –" I mumble, beg, incoherently because I'm twelve, thirteen-ish-almost and I can't handle this.
Bill chuckles. Cackles. I stop, of course –
Because it's terrifying.
Bill is yellow, and smaller, but he's already had his display of power. He thinks now nobody will cross him.
I know I wouldn't. Not without backup, weapons, one of Dipper's or Grunkle Ford's plans and a boatload of safety nets.
And apparently spray paint, a flashlight – magical, obviously – and my trusty grappling hook.
Because those are very necessary tools.
(They work against him. Nothing else we've tried seems to.)
Bill lowers himself, but he's still bigger than me, and despite his shape of choice he will always be intimidating. It's a kind of like, aura, he puts out – fear me, or suffer.
I do. But not enough.
I lift my head, defiant, but I'm shaking and it's obvious yet I won't let him hurt my family.
Not when there's a guilty party yet to be judged for… it.
It.
The thing. The end of the world.
That 'It'.
"Well then, Shooting Star. That's some guilt complex that you've got goin' there, ain't it Stanley?"
The triangle 'grins' with it's tone, I guess – because that's the only way to explain it. I suppose you just kinda had to be there, which is bad because no-one should be here.
Not now. Not ever.
He doesn't let Grunkle Stan reply, though – and continues.
"Did she get time to tell you all?" Bill asked the four of us, rhetorically of course.
"Tell us what?" Dipper yells out, bold – and gosh I wish he hadn't.
Bill laughed, again. Dipper pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, yet they didn't once stray from the Dream Demon.
"Oh, I don't tell this well enough." Bill said, lazily. "How about you, Shooting Star?" He demanded in a questioning tone. "What did you never get 'round to telling that family of yours?"
I didn't really want to say anything, no siree, not in any way, shape or form.
Not one bit. I did anyway, though.
(That kinda thing likes to build up and pour out, bursting from the seams.)
I know I'm in tears – they're streaming down my face like little waterfalls – but that's not truly important right now.
Tearfully, I recount the stuff to Dipper, to our Grunkles, but I don't once look at any of them –
Mainly 'cause I'm terrified they'd hate me. But, again, that's not important.
"- and – and I didn't want things to – to change." I say, stuttering and fast and all at once, gestures wild and subdued, kept close to my person.
"So I said yes." I murmured. Cleared my throat, and repeated myself. "I said yes."
"And the town… disappeared. For me."
Because I was in that safety bubble he'd promised. A world where nothing changes without my permission, where it's endless summer and I was in charge.
I loved it. I can't, won't say I didn't. But then, I figure most people would have.
My brother included. If the world were catered to him, more.
(He wouldn't change me, though. I think. I know. Not how I did to him, anyway.)
(Not a complete 180 in personality and behaviour. Like Dippy was to Dipper.)
There is silence, I think. I'm not really paying attention.
It seems that when things get rough, emotionally, I run and hide. But that's the same for all kids, right?
Because – me and Dippin' Dots – we're kids.
Turns out neither of us are that well-adjusted.
Well. What did you expect, for a Pines?
(Certainly, surely not an utterly perfectly stable set of twins. That seems a bit too much to ask for.)
"So, what are you saying exactly, Shooting Star?" Bill wheedles. "I'm not quite sure what you're getting at; how about you extrapolate for us who weren't there, Shooting Star?"
"The rift was broken. I made a deal with blendin; you in disguise, and the rift was broken."
I take a breath. Steady, shaky, say it now because never won't ever happen.
"I ended the world."
Bill snaps his fingers, a gleeful look in his eye.
I still, stuck in that weird gold light again, and there's that throne.
He floats me in front of it, and there are our friends. The townsfolk.
"How's about you say it louder, eh, Shooting Star?" Bill requests, ecstatic.
"I – " I start, but I stumble, the words stuck in my throat.
"Shooting Star." Bill says, dangerously, and lifts his fingers as if to snap, his eye turning to a pine tree, to that weird symbol thing, to a six-fingered hand.
I breathe. In, out.
Stuck, staring.
"I let Bill into the town." I say, because half of these people have no idea, and the rest only a vague one.
The 'idea' being all the stuff that's happened in the last sixty-or-so years to lead us here.
To this point. A twelve/thirteen-year-old, ending the world through poor life choices.
Bill drags me back to the room, and I'm glad because I don't have to see the town's folk, or Grenda's, Candy's faces.
I don't want to know what they look like.
What they think.
"Oh and Shooting Star?" Bill says, offhandedly. "I should thank you for all of this-" He comments, and I dearly wish that he wouldn't but he does continue –"And I'll be sure to let everyone know how pivotal you were to helping me have total domination over your puny little 'Earth.'"
Bill said nothing after that, and honestly I'm glad he stayed silent. I've changed my mind about movie villains…
Their words and speeches aren't even slightly awesome.
They're horrifying.
I fall, and scream a little, but I land softly – and I hear calls of my name, of 'are you alrights', of 'I'll fucking kill you for this' – and she isn't really sure which Pines that isn't herself said it but it was one of them, or maybe two or possibly all but someone did either way.
"How's about you say goodbye to your sister, eh, Pine Tree? It's not like you can stop me now, thanks to Shooting Star."
I see Dipper's cage break apart and Disappear. He runs up to me, and helps me stand.
Before he can say anything, before he can do anything, I near tackle him in a hug, trapping his arms at his sides and probably giving him a face-full of hair in the process, but never mind that right now.
I take a deep breath, and in a rush whispered words tumble out quick and without pause.
"Dipper – I, I want – if you live through this… when this is over, I – I want you to live a long and happy and awesome life, okay bro-bro?" My words are thick with tears, but I continue despite this. "- And – An' you can mourn me, alright Dip-Dop, but – but please don't – don't be sad for all your – your everydays after all this stuff, please. Just – be a world-famous adventurer, or – or whatever it is you want to be after all of this – and, and find a girl, okay? And – and be happy, because wherever I end up after this, I don't want you there 'till you're all wrinkled, way more so than our grunkles. Okay little brother? Please, Mason – Live, for me, okay?"
I would say more, but Bill speaks up. I push Dipper away, and the cage comes back, trapping him in place once again.
"How heartwarming. But aside from all that, which I'm sure you were dying to tell everyone-"
Bill paused, and grew, and spoke.
"So – Shooting Star. I can't help but notice that you missed out on the party… such a shame. Hey! How about–" And here, he turned red, his voice once again demonic, just as his title in the blood-stained book Dipper has – or had – on the page all about him says.
"So how about I do you a favor and let you experience three days of chaos… All. At. ONCE?"
I fall over again, and lie on my back, propped up by my arms and for once I think, for the first time –
That something, this thing – It's a hopeless situation.
Bill's eye turns to that same red shooting star, and he lifts his hand as if to click but there's shuffling from a cage and I snap my head –
No.
Grunkle Ford steps forward.
No.
"Wait!" He calls out, growls out more like – angry, and, in his own way, resigned to a fate she was gosh-darn protecting them all from, no –
No. Ford wouldn't…
No.
(Yes. It's very much happening. And it's all your fault.)
"I surrender." He says, and in the end the rest is a blur.
And it turns out Grunkle Stan is very good at the Twin Thing, despite years apart and differing hair styles and facial hair and voices that are pretty distinct from one-another, but it's still the most awesometastic thing ever, oh my gosh –
Because Bill's…
Gone. And Grunkle Stan's getting his mind back, his memories – of us, at least – are returning, and surprising quickly too.
The date is the same as it was when this all started, and yet, in a way…
I feel older, somehow. Changed, by what happened.
Guilty for causing it. Horrible for the fact that no-one seems to blame me, aside from myself.
Dipper's tried to talk to me, of course – and I know why.
But is it okay that I'm not ready for that, not quite yet?
(I think it is, in the end. And really, that's what matters.)