Mystery Kids: Beginnings- Opening

Mystery Kids: Beginnings- Opening

This is the first Mystery Kids fanfic I not only wrote, but completed. It went untitled for a very long time, and I'm afraid the name's still not very creative, but it's better than nothing. 

I wish the formatting was a little more like an actual book, but with the text on this theme pretty small it may be easier to leave it at the default for now. Anyway, you probably want a summary. :3

Everything seems great in Gravity Falls. There's always something going on to keep young mystery hunters busy, especially when their nemesis procures a mind-altering mineral and uses it against them. Lucky for them, a young Psychonaut-- the youngest ever, in fact-- is on the case.

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The package was small, about the size of a tissue box and unassuming. It arrived with a plop on the doorstep midmorning, then was promptly squirreled away from prying eyes and hurried to a secluded back room. Stubby fingers pulled the packaging eagerly apart, and a gently shimmering violet glow lit the boy’s pale features. He poured over the substance greedily, its power safely contained in an insulating glass case, picturing what he might do with it now that it was his. There was so much…

Patience, that’s what I need. Play my cards right and everything will be mine without a fuss at all.

 -------- 

“Uh-huh. Uh-huh…. No, I wouldn’t worry about it. No really! You’re dead, you don’t have to worry about it. Oh, alright,” Norman gave a resigned sigh. “I promise we’ll make sure the well hasn’t been poisoned. Can you rest easy now?”

The pioneer ghost he was talking to nodded, looking content as it slowly dissolved into wisps of light and disappeared. That was the third ghost he’d helped this week, some kind of record he supposed. He turned to his two cohorts and grinned, indicating his success.

 “Yeah! Another point for Norman!” Mabel cheered, and her brother laughed.

“What, we’re keeping score? He’s the only one who can play.”

“Yeah yeah,” she said, giggling. “So who was this guy? Some kind of old-timey plumber or something?”

“More like a cowboy. He wanted me to warn everyone the well might be poisoned,” Norman explained as they turned to walk back through town.

“That was really his last wish?” Dipper asked, looking skeptical, and his friend nodded.

“Those kind of things were a lot more important back then,” he replied with a shrug. “If no one knew their water was bad the whole town might die. How was he supposed to know that wouldn’t happen?”

“Hey, if we meet that time-travel guy again we could go back and tell him,” Mabel suggested, and the two boys chuckled.

Norman only knew of most of the twins’ bizarre adventures secondhand of course, the rest having happened in the few days he’d spent in Gravity Falls. Some had been instigated by the ghosts he’d met around town, others from the pages of the weird book Dipper always carried around, and others still simply appeared out of nowhere. They’d taken advantage of one mystery in particular-- he was only out here with the twins now because a paper clone had gone home with his family. The pains of parting with new friends made on a vacation were craftily avoided, and as far as he knew the rest of the Babcocks suspected nothing. If he was brutally honest, his family weren’t the most attentive… and for now that was fine with him. Though he missed Neil, he was with his kind of people for once.

“You think Stan would let us rent another zombie movie tonight?” Mabel wondered aloud, twirling on her heel. She’d been on a horror movie kick ever since Norman had arrived and introduced her to some of his favorites, and the cheesier the better.

“Haven’t we exhausted the video store’s selection already?” Dipper replied, frowning. He refused to admit all but the worst of even the cheesy movies scared him, and Mabel knew all about it. Since the Journal listed zombies, half those films were automatically that much more plausible no matter how terrible the rubber-masked villains and corn syrup blood got. Of course he was tired of them, and wasn’t quite sure how his sister and Norman continued to put up with them. There were only so many ways a zombie’s head could get chopped off before it got old, right? He could already feel his sister’s sly little smirk, and knew some snide comment was incoming.

“What, worried the mondo-mutant from ‘Space Zombies 4’ is gonna come after you again?”

“I realize that was a dream, okay!? A dream!” he spluttered, glaring at his sister, who only chuckled at him. “Look, can’t we just rent like, an action movie? ‘Nebraska Bones’ or something.”

“Aw Dipper, you watch that all the time at home. I wanna see some crazy zombie-mashing action!”

Norman laughed to himself while the twins argued. They’d inevitably get it sorted out, and even though zombie movies were his favorite he didn’t mind the odd action movie either. Back home, Neil liked to watch cute animal movies, and some of those got to be pretty awful too, but as long as he was with friends it wasn‘t so bad. Ultimately it’d be up to the man paying for the movie anyway; as much as Grunkle Stan liked the fact movies kept the kids quiet he loved his money more. It was likely they’d just be playing out their own undead invasion that night.

Home base for the trio soon poked through the dense forest, garish signs every few feet ensuring no tourist could pass the Mystery Shack by. Stan was occupied with giving a tour, so the kids took the back entrance and headed for the living room. They’d ask him about the movie later; for now, whatever was on TV would have to do, and after that a round of videogames. For all its mysteries, if something strange wasn’t happening, Gravity Falls lived up to its ‘sleepy little town’ reputation.

The upshot to this ‘sleepy little town’ was that no one seemed to care that Norman often spoke to nothing. Everyone knew the town had its share of odd characters who also had their charms, and he was simply the latest in such a trend. Blithe Hollow still wasn’t sure what to make of him even after he’d saved it, and plenty of people didn’t want to talk about what had happened that night. Here in Gravity Falls, no one knew anything about it, and that afforded him a certain amount of freedom. Most people didn’t even know his name.

So when an envelope with ‘Norman’ neatly penned on it arrived with the rest of the mail that afternoon, it was definitely strange, and the letter inside it even more perplexing. Cordially written, it requested a private interview with him about his ‘gift’. There was no return address or initials, only a time and place to meet.

He’d think about it more later, but for the moment he stuffed it in his pocket and went back to where the twins were trying to decode one of the Book’s many ciphers. He couldn’t say he was much good at it, but Dipper was certain between the three of them they could figure it out. They didn’t have the key though, and without that vital part it was unlikely they’d crack it no matter how many minds were on the case. It wasn’t one of Trembley’s ‘silliness puzzles’ either, so that pretty much ruled out anything Mabel had to say too. Eventually even Dipper had to admit defeat.

It was times like these when the three tended to separate. Not because they were mad at one another or anything, but even twins needed time apart, and though he wasn’t quite so introverted anymore Norman still liked being able to hear himself think. With the Mystery Shack closed for the evening, things were especially peaceful, and wandering outside where the air was still and light slanted through the trees was refreshing. He knew to keep close to the Shack; besides the numerous mystical threats of the forest there were also more natural things like bears and cougars to worry about. No, he was content to sit on the steps or listen to the parking lot gravel crunch under his shoes. Sitting on one of the logs that served as a curb, a crinkling from his pocket reminded him of the letter, and he pulled it out to read it again.

“Whatcha got there?” Mabel said next to Norman’s ear, and he nearly fell from his seat. For all her loud tendencies, she had the strange ability to sneak up on people. “A secret admirer maybe?” She fluttered her eyelids, then giggled.

“No,” Norman replied with a laugh, “well, maybe. Someone wants to interview me.” He handed the paper over, and she sniffed.

“Smells like… hairspray? Maybe it is a secret admirer. Jealous!”

“…Weird.” He’d never had a secret admirer before, and wasn’t sure how to feel about it. According to all his movies, having a stalker meant eminent death.

“That date says tonight right? You should totally go! I’ll follow along, but all secrety-like. Come on!”

“Wait, Mabel…”

But there was no discouraging her, and he found himself being pushed down the road towards town. About a block before the destination-- in front of Greasy’s Diner-- Mabel made him walk by himself, trailing him and actually doing a good job of keeping out of sight. From what he could see though, there was no one waiting out front, and he felt relieved. But then a car-- large, dark and intimidating-- pulled up beside him, and the back window rolled down. These things never ended well.

“Norman?” A high-pitched, Southern drawl-inflected voice inquired, and a small boy’s face topped with an enormous platinum-blonde pompadour appeared over the window frame.

“Uh… yeah?” he replied, hands fidgeting.

“Why, pleased to make your acquaintance at last. Hop in, and we’ll head somewhere away from pryin’ eyes. My trailer should fit the bill.”

“Uh… I’m not so sure. I’ve gotta be home soon,” Norman said, edging back in Mabel’s direction. Everyone knew you didn’t get into a stranger’s car, even if the person inviting you seemed innocent enough.

“No no, come now, I insist!”

The door snapped shut, and Norman found himself inside, not really sure what had just happened. He twisted to look behind as the car pulled away and saw a worried-looking Mabel waving frantically at him before the well-dressed boy sitting next to him cleared his throat and began to speak.

“Now I know this ain’t the typical way to meet someone, but I’ve heard so much about you, well, I couldn’t resist a bit of mystery, if you know what I mean. I’m somethin’ of a showman y’see, and was wonderin’ if you’d be so kind as to make an appearance in my program. I think you’ll find we’ve got a bit in common, and it’d be such a delight to have you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m talking about our psychic gifts of course! Why, with my premonitions and your clairvoyance, it’d be quite a treat for my fans. Think you could do it tonight?”

“Uh…” He was at a loss for words. The car pulled up to a trailer-- not the mobile home he’d expected, but an actual trailer like the ones for movie stars. “Are you… famous?”

“Only locally, but yes.”

They exited the car, which drove off for the time being, and headed into the trailer. The interior was cheerfully lit, lined with all manner of outfits and smelled strongly of hair products. The boy took his seat in front of the mirrors, and indicated a folding chair for Norman.

“Who are you, anyway?” he asked as he sat, and his host gasped.

“My my, did I really not introduce myself? Child psychic and town darlin’ Gideon Gleeful at your service! Now, can I get you anything, a water maybe?”

Norman shook his head. The Pines had named a Gideon in the list of things they’d had to fight, and the town was too small for two people to be called such an unusual name. Something wasn’t right, but he wasn’t allowed to dwell on it, as the chubby kid was determined to talk.

“Down to business then. We’ll get you suited up, then y’just have to talk for ten minutes maybe. Nothin’ fancy, just a few questions about your gift and such. Then questions from the audience, then it’s a wrap and we head home. Now I can see that you’re nervous, but it’s really nothing at all, and I’ll be doin’ most of the talkin’. You just sit an’ look pretty for the camera.”

“I… I’d love to, but uh… I’ve got to get home ‘cause my friends are gonna be really worried…” Norman stuttered, rising from his chair and making for the door. He didn’t mind being on a stage so much, even if the last time he had had ended more or less disastrously, but he got the sense this was something more sinister than a school play.

“Not to worry friend, they know about the whole thing! Now, come on back. You’ve got a show to get ready for.”

Norman found himself walking back to the chair. He didn’t want to, but at the same time it seemed like such a good idea. Gideon snapped his fingers, and a pretty little stylist entered.

“My special guest here needs a suit and somethin’ done about his hair. See what you can do, hon.”

She nodded, sized Norman up, then left the trailer. Gideon tended to his own hair, leaving his guest to look nervously about the room. Maybe he should plan an escape? Surely he’d have a chance to get out between now and the show. Maybe. The plots of most horror movies suggested otherwise.

The stylist came back with a small black suit draped over her arm, and Gideon tutted.

 “Don’cha have anything in color?” The stylist shook her head timidly, but the self-proclaimed psychic shrugged. “Shame. Anyway, try that on for size Norman.” He indicated the bathroom and waved him in. Reluctantly he obliged, and while the suit fit fine, taming his hair was another story altogether. Eventually the stylist reached her breaking point and simply fled the trailer.

--------

“Dipper! Dipper!”

The door to their room practically exploded under Mabel’s charge, and the Journal fell from his hands in shock.

“What!? What’s happening?”

“Norman got kidnapped!”

“What!?”

               “I dunno! I was watching him and he tried to get away, but then it was like he changed his mind and got in the car anyway! What are we gonna do?!”

“Wait, why were you following him? Where did this happen?”

“He got a letter, and I thought maybe it was a secret admirer or something romantic, so I-- oh man, this is all my fault!” she cried, falling to her knees, and Dipper put a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t worry Mabel, we can figure this out. Did you see who was in the car?”

“Hey kids! Get down here, yer buddy‘s on TV!” Stan shouted from below, and the pair rushed down, almost skidding into the room.

“I was just flippin’ through channels and stumbled on him. What’s he doin’ on Gideon’s show anyway? You guys warned him about the little creep, right?”

"Not well enough, apparently…” Dipper sighed, sitting dejectedly on the carpet. “Better see what he’s up to.”

“Tell us more about this curse you helped take care of,” Gideon was saying, leaning forward in a cushy-looking chair. “What’s all this about a witch now?”

“Well…” Norman looked uncomfortable on the stage, even though he had an equally cushy-looking chair. It was probably blazing under those lights, not to mention he’d been put on the spot. Nevertheless, in his own halting way he explained the whole story as quickly as he could.

“Fascinatin’, absolutely fascinatin’! Sounds terrifying too, but you triumphed in the end an’ that’s the main thing, am I right?” Gideon pronounced, and Norman smiled nervously while the crowd applauded. After that, they took questions from the audience, and then the show was over, Gideon waving to the camera charmingly with an awkwardly bemused Norman at his side as the credits rolled. The Pines sat in what approached a grim silence. Stan stormed from the room, and the twins glanced at one another. Their great-uncle returned fully dressed and scowling, grabbed his cane and opened the door.

“Come on kids, I’m not letting that little freak steal your friend for his sideshow. Hurry up!”

The two were out the door and in Stan’s car in a flash. Stan hadn’t exactly been thrilled when he learned there was suddenly another kid in his care, but at least this one’d turned out to be pretty low-maintenance. And if there was one thing Dipper knew their great-uncle definitely wouldn’t stand for, it was his business rival getting an advantage by using a family friend against him. The ancient vehhicle’s engine roared to life, and they were off.

People were still filing out of the Tent of Telepathy when the Pines family pulled in haphazardly and all three stormed in, Stan leading the way. Things were being wrapped up, and the Gleefuls’ employees stared as they marched down the center aisle. Bud Gleeful was packing up the electric organ, and despite their rivalry was always welcoming whenever Stan came to confront him over some wrong.

“Well, if it isn’t th’ whole Pines gang. What can I help y’all with this fine evening?” he drawled cheerfully, greeting them with palms spread warmly.

“Look, we only came here to pick up Norman. Hand ‘im over and we’ll leave without a fuss,” Stan growled, crossing his arms, and Bud held up his hands defensively.

“I’d love to help, but he and Gideon headed home for some dinner. You’ll just have t’ head there if y’ need ‘im back so soon.”

“Fine. But I’ll have you know we’re onto you!” Stan retorted, glaring at the large Southerner as he turned to leave the tent, twins in tow looking equally skeptical. They clambered back into the car and headed across town, and the siblings exchanged worried glances. Their new best friend was in the clutches of an insane ten-year-old who seemed to have access to the same supernatural forces they did. This was a recipe for disaster if there ever was one.

The Gleefuls’ sprawling ranch house loomed into view, the giant billboard advertising Gideon illuminated in their headlights. It seemed to leer mockingly down at them, and Stan growled in disgust. It was time to put an end to this farce. Once more they marched up to their rival’s establishment, and Stan pounded on the door rather than ring the doorbell. He tapped his foot impatiently before knocking again, and this time the door swung open. It was Gideon.

“Give us our friend back!” Mabel demanded, stepping forward and poking him hard in the chest before he could say a word.

“Why Mabel, always a pleasure to see you,” he countered, rubbing where she had more or less stabbed him with her finger. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“You can‘t fool us! We saw you on TV with Norman tonight!” It was Dipper’s turn to yell angrily at their rival, who merely chuckled innocently.

“Oh yes, he did stop by didn't he? Charming fellow, bit quiet though. I already sent him home, he should be there by now. You’re wastin’ your time talking to lil’ ole me.” His smug expression wasn’t exactly reassuring.

Dipper passed a worried look to his sister. The Pines were left with no choice but to leave their enemy and head home. They knew he couldn’t be trusted; would Norman really be waiting for them at the Shack? Had they just been bamboozled? Stan would never stand for that, he was the resident con man. They sat in the car, uncomfortably silent.

“Gideon seemed awfully convincing again…” Mabel finally groaned, fiddling with her hair, and her brother sighed.

“Yeah. Something’s up… wait, Mabel!”

She looked up to see her brother was agape.

“I knew there was something different about him when we saw him on TV, but seeing him just now-- he’s got another amulet!”

“Ugh, and I could have grabbed it when I poked him! Today’s just not our day.”

“Yeah… if he had it though, why didn't he do anything to us when we showed up at his doorstep? I would've, if I were evil. All my enemies in one place? Too easy,” he reasoned, scratching his head. “He’s up to something.”

“And it has to do with Norman.”

 “Well, looks like you’ll get to find out for yourselves; believe it or not Gideon was telling the truth. He’s right there on the steps,” Stan interjected. Sure enough their friend was waving to them as they pulled in, looking almost as relieved as they felt. Mabel barely let the car stop before she tackled him in a bear hug and left him gasping for air under her grip. Stan unlocked the door, and the three kids trudged gratefully inside, glad the day was over.

“He wanted me to keep the suit,” Norman said, tossing the thing over the back of a chair in the kitchen.

“It is pretty nice…” Mabel chuckled.

“Yeah, but… Gideon,” Dipper replied, grimacing, and she shrugged.

There was a lot more to talk about, but it was much too late for that now. Norman especially seemed tired from his live TV appearance, so the three picked up anything they’d left out and headed up to bed. After a good night’s rest they could begin unraveling their nemesis’ plan. At least that would be more rewarding than trying to crack the Journal’s codes, and probably more fun too.

But no one slept well at all.

Mystery Kids: Beginnings- Part 4

Here's part four; action and feels (though your mileage may vary) ahead!

“Okay Gideon, we get the whole revenge thing! You didn’t have to get Norman involved!” Dipper shouted, straining against the ropes holding him to the chair. His nemesis chuckled, circling around where he had the twins tied back to back to chairs in his room.

“I know the supernatural when I see it boy, but unlike you I know how to use it. He’s more powerful than anyone knows, even him. I knew he’d be my ticket to the Shack the moment he came to town, and you’d be helpless to stop me then! I jus’ didn’t know y’all would show up at my doorstep and make this all so easy.”

“What did you even do to him, ya weirdo?!” Mabel cried, “It was that weird rock stuff wasn’t it? Wasn’t it?!”

“Now Mabel darlin’, no need to get so worked up,” Gideon said sweetly, turning to face her and patting her cheek. “It was jus’ a bit of findin’ out what made Norman tick, a touch a’ hypnosis, then the rock did the rest.”

“I knew it was hypnosis!” Dipper said under his breath. If he could just wiggle enough and reach his pocket knife… no luck. His arms weren’t that noodle-y. Watching Gideon circle around again, his eyes fell on the amulet. “Where’d you even get one of those again anyway?”

“It wasn’t no internet catalogue, I’ll tell you that! I have my ways, means you couldn’t begin to understand… and now…” Gideon removed his tie and held it in Dipper’s face. “Watch closely.”

He found he couldn’t look away.

-------- 

Raz admitted, Norman was… pretty good at atmosphere. The floor creaked and bucked under his every step in the house, and what light made it through the clouded windows didn’t penetrate very far, scattering in the dust-filled air. The wallpaper was stained and peeling, and it smelled like mildew, and maybe blood. Every so often, there’d be a tapping from the walls or ceiling that seemed to be following him. And it was cold. Temperature usually wasn’t a thing in mental worlds unless fire was involved, but here, it was freezing.

He’d seen plenty of terrifying things in the mental worlds of others, but this…. There was something building, and it wasn‘t doing anything for his nerves. He’d never seen a horror movie in his life, but he was pretty sure he was in one right now. A door slammed upstairs, and he yelped, flattening against the wall. Only silence now.

“I’ve gotta talk to this kid about his mind,” he grumbled, shaking his head. He made for the stairs since the ground floor was pretty obviously empty. The steps gave dangerously under his weight, and the banister wasn’t reassuring either, wobbling when he put his hand on it to steady himself. Cautiously, afraid he’d be sent through rotting wood and into some bottomless pit at any moment, he made his way up, batting aside spider webs that caressed his face. He climbed for a while and knew he was past the second floor by now; the thing about mental worlds was that they rarely obeyed the rules of physics and regularly broke things like conservation of volume. Without any windows, it was getting progressively darker too.

“Ugh, this again,” Raz muttered to himself, and decided to skip the whole walking part. A soft orange glow burst from under his feet and he was off, taking the stairs yards at a time. He should have just done this from the start.

No longer feeling so cautious, he sped upwards, eager to finish things up, but a dull rumble put a damper on his efforts. He stopped to listen as the sound seemed to move through the walls, a shearing noise that scraped along and brought violent shaking with it. He was forced to cling to the bannister, flimsy as it was, to keep from being knocked off his feet as whatever it was moved through and finally dissipated. As frightening as the experience was though, he wasn’t entirely sure that had been a regular feature of the mindscape. Something about the sound was familiar…. Undaunted, he reformed his levitation orb and carried on, his way lit by his own manifested will.

There was a shadow, and something clattered behind him. He froze, trying to comprehend what was happening now…. Had Norman just thrown something at him? It’d take more than that to scare—a book collided with his face, sending him sprawling awkwardly on the steps. He grunted and rubbed at where the spine had connected with his aviator cap, glad he wore the old thing. This was exactly why he’d ditched the official Psychonauts uniform not even halfway into his first mission. It was cool he got to wear the official garb, but it wasn’t nearly as practical—or stylish, so his girlfriend told him.

Glaring up at the top of the stairs, he skipped a few more steps up then ducked, and heard something else whiz overhead and land far below. But after a couple more leaps, it seemed Norman gave up on being a poltergeist, and he climbed the rest of the way without a hitch. The door he found at the top of the stairs was closed, and a soft gray light came through the gap at the bottom. Quietly, Raz turned the handle and pushed the door open, grateful when it didn’t squeal on its hinges—only creaking softly instead.

The room was washed out in the pale light streaming from the windows. A wall of posters in the corner above the bed was the only thing that still seemed to have some color to it, but Raz knew enough about advertising to realize they should have been brighter. Norman was sitting on his bed, facing a window with his back to the door. Even when the floor creaked as the psychic stepped warily into the room, he didn’t move.

“Hey,” Raz said gently, slowly approaching the beleaguered medium. “Everything okay?”

“…No,” Norman replied, an edge to his voice.

“I don’t get it. The stuff that made you lose it has been contained for a while now. You should be feeling better,” Raz wondered aloud, tapping a finger thoughtfully to his chin.

“Why should I feel better? There’s nothing to feel better about.”

“That’s not true, I’m here! You didn’t make it easy, but now I can find out what’s going on and find a way to help.”

“You should just leave. I don’t think you can help… there’s so much… too much wrong,” Norman replied, shoulders sagging. A poster peeled from the wall, and he hurriedly stuck it back, face drawn with concern. They caught each other’s eye for a moment, then the ghost whisperer went back to sulking.

“Man, are you mediums always this moody? ‘Cause that’s what I always hear,” Raz commented, folding his arms in exasperation.

“How would I know? The only other people like me are dead.”

Raz’s exasperation quickly dissipated. “Whoa, sorry. But… you said you talk to ghosts—doesn’t that mean you can still talk to them?”

“They moved on. I can’t contact them after that…. I’m all alone.”

“Oh. Sorry to hear that.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway. Not like anyone ever helped them either.”

“Well, I guess I can’t do anything for them, but I can help you. What’s going on?”

“You’ll just think I’m crazy. Everyone else already does.”

“No way. I’ve seen a ton of people worse than than you, and I’ve helped all of them. Most were a little more cooperative though, so you gotta give me something to work with. What exactly happened to you two days ago?”

“It’s… it’s only been two days?” Norman finally turned to look at him in shock.

“Yeah.”

“Nice to know it only takes me two days to go totally insane,” he sighed, flopping back on the bed. “I guess it’s no wonder considering the people I deal with.”

“Whoa, harsh. But that’s not the real—”

“Everyone should just leave me alone, including you. I can’t take it anymore.”

“It’d be nice to know what’s actually bothering you,” Raz huffed, folding his arms. He wasn’t getting anywhere, and he suspected it was the hypnosis making it hard for Norman to focus on anything but his anger and desire for isolation. There had to be some way to get him out of that mindset. He thought carefully; what could he say to break the hypnosis’ hold?

“Your life can’t be all bad though. What about the ghosts? They seem to like you a lot.”

“Why should that matter? They can’t do anything… actually they just get me in trouble.”

“Okay, uh… what about your family?”

“You’re not getting it!” Norman sprung from the bed, fists clenched. “I have no one! They all hate me, or they’re afraid. What am I supposed to do?” He almost seemed pleading now, even as tension filled the air. But Raz was starting to put things together, and the only way to be sure was to keep talking.

“And you’re one-hundred-percent sure that’s really how they feel about you? Because for a really long time I thought my dad hated—”

“Just go. You don’t have anything helpful to say. I’ll fix my problems by myself.”

“Wait—”

“Leave.”

“No, Norman, you can’t—”

“Go! Or I’ll make you myself,” he snarled, eyes flashing. Hot streaks of electricity burst from the fringes of his clothes and hair, casting the room in an eerie yellow. Raz leapt back and shielded his eyes; lightning was the last thing he’d expected to come from the medium, and definitely meant things were getting out of control despite his efforts. He had to keep things on the right track.

“Hey! Listen to me!”

“No one will listen to me. Why should I listen to them anymore?” Norman retorted.

“Because sometimes they have important stuff to tell you,” Raz answered, but had to duck as a bolt flew over his head.

“Oh, like how I’m a freak? How I’m better off joining my ghost friends?”

“Oh man, people really told you that?”

“You think I’m lying!?” he cried, projection nothing but raging energy now and forcing Raz back against the wall. So much electricity in a small room was bad for his health; he rubbed the back of his hand where a small arc had connected and left it stinging.

“No, I believe you! But you ignored it before—doesn’t that mean it’s not important?”

“I’m not ignoring it any more! I’m— I’m going to show them why they should all just leave me alone!”

“What?! Norman, I’m pretty sure that’s a really bad idea!” Raz shouted over the roar of the lightning as he edged closer to the door. If things got to be too much he’d need to be able to get out fast, but he desperately hoped it wouldn’t come to that. With his natural defenses gone, Norman needed someone else to help deal with his emotions. Fighting was out of the question; if he hurt Norman’s core even more than it already was who knew what damage that would do. Raz knew he wasn’t the greatest mediator—fighting was definitely his strong point, but he wasn’t known for giving up on anyone either. Most importantly, he had a pretty good idea of how to help now.

“And why not?”

“Because I think it’d make your friends really sad—all of them. The ghosts, and the ones you’re staying with right now.”

“But I don’t—” Norman’s projection flickered, and he stared at the psychic in disbelief.

“You do realize you’re not home, right? You‘ve got a sleeping bag out there, and this looks like it‘s your real room. You‘re definitely staying with friends,” he stated, laying out the facts.

“You’re lying!”

“Oh, now I’m the liar, huh? Look—” He gasped as a strike interrupted and hit him square in the chest. Reeling, he slid to the floor, trying to refocus his scattered thoughts. But he’d been hit with worse, and propped himself up against the wall once he‘d caught his breath and turned to face the medium once more. “You may not remember them, but it seems like you’ve been spending some time with them. Isn‘t that important?”

“Then why can’t I remember them? You’re making it up!” He punctuated his accusation with a bolt. Raz winced as it hit his boot, but he had to keep going.

“Norman, someone screwed with your memories and emotions. I don’t know how it’s connected exactly, but somehow, by taking away the memories of your friends, they made you this angry… sad… lighting thing! They want you to be like this!” he panted, staggering to his feet. “I don’t think you want to though. Otherwise you wouldn’t have let me in.”

“I… I don’t know. I just want everyone to see how horrible they are!” he spat, and launched another stream of lightning at him. He managed to dodge most of it, but those first strikes had taken a lot out of him. After a few steps, it was like his legs wouldn’t listen to his commands and simply gave up, leaving him to collapse. He took the rest of the attack as best he could from his spot on the floor, but a pounding in his ears told him he couldn’t last long. When Norman seemed done, he hoisted himself up once more and faced the glowing ball of anger. “So you do that by being horrible back? Doesn‘t that make you just as bad?”

Norman made to reply, but froze. His image wavered, contorting before snapping back, expression turned from rage to fearful confusion. “N-no…” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

“It does, and you know it!” Raz pressed, and the medium recoiled.

“No!” he cried, sending out a small wave of electricity and stunning Raz again. “You don’t understand, everything’s wrong! All of it, and I don’t know why, or how to fix it,” he sobbed, hands at his temples. “I’m not like this, I’m not like her.”

Raz gaped at the sudden change in moods, but at last he‘d made progress—somehow. And now there was a mysterious ‘her’ in the mix, but he figured there’d be time for explanations later, and it meant Norman was remembering something other than the hypnosis’ directive. Maybe now he could finally get to him and put an end to his suffering. Using the wall to pull himself up, he shoved the goggles out of his face. It was hard, like staring at the sun, but he looked Norman in the eyes and smiled. “Don’t worry. I think I definitely know how to help now. Let’s go out to your tree.”

“There’s… there’s something wrong with it. Usually it calms me down when I visit it, but lately it only reminded me of all the bad stuff. I… I wanted to tear it down!” Norman flickered again, projection splitting for an instant, lightning flaring.

“That’s what I’m here to take care of. Come on.” Raz gestured towards the door, then flopped over, legs numb like they’d fallen asleep. Rolling over, he shrugged at Norman, who was looking on in concern.

“I… How bad did I hurt you?”

 “I’ll be fine. If you can get us both to the tree, this’ll all be over really fast.”

“Okay…”

The house trembled, then everything blurred like it was ripped upward. In an instant, Raz was lying on dirt instead of floorboards, and the walls covered in posters had disappeared. The oak twisted over their heads, bare branches swaying ever so slightly in a breeze that had kicked up, and the clouds swirling above were now tinged with maroon streaks.

“Okay, now all you have to do is get rid of the junk that’s written on the tree—the stuff saying you’re a freak that never had friends,” Raz explained, sitting up and giving his troubled friend an encouraging smile.

“B-but… what if it’s true?” Norman wavered, eyes fixed on the tree. The electricity, which had died down since he’d realized something was wrong, began to pick up again. Summoning his strength, Raz stood and leapt in front of the toxic words, landing hard on his stomach against the rough bark. What he did for people sometimes….

“No way,” he coughed. He would turn over, but he was pretty sure his body wouldn’t listen at this point. He couldn’t get any energy back without dropping another astral layer, but that meant he’d have even less presence, which probably wasn’t a good idea even if things were looking better. “If anything… I’m your friend, right? So it’s already not true.”

“Uh…okay… What do I do?”

“I’m… not sure actually. Maybe try remembering what those crossed out things are?”

“I… I’m not sure I can. The tree’s dead…by now…”

“Can’t be. It’s a pretty major part of your psyche. I don’t think you’d be around if it was dead,” Raz replied. “Actually, I think I can still feel a little energy running through it.” He patted the bark gently, nodding.

“Then… I’ll try… but… be ready in case something bad happens.”

Raz was too busy monitoring the tree through his pounding head to catch that last bit. The oak had the slightest of wavelengths, so when a tremor shook the whole thing it was like someone blasting a bullhorn in his ear. He slid unceremoniously from the trunk and landed on the dusty ground with a thud before managing to turn to Norman. “What was that?”

“…Uh oh…”

There was a searing sound, and Raz instantly knew what was happening. Risking the last of his strength and braving electrocution, he leapt forward just as a hellish red portal tore open beneath Norman’s feet and shoved him out of the way. Inhuman claws seized him, digging roughly into his skin and pulled him in, the portal closing far above his head and leaving him in darkness.

The first time this had happened to him, long ago, Raz had really been afraid—the thing had sprung on him when he‘d though he was safe, and he‘d never faced it before. But then the actual fight hadn’t been too hard, and now he was looking forward to blasting this particular problem into oblivion, even with his energy levels so low. Nightmares were demonic-looking, but with the right moves they were easy to beat, and Norman had been plagued by the things long enough.

But something wasn't right.

He wasn't in a den full of fire and brimstone like nightmares usually preferred. There was nothing to shoot at, nothing to hit, and he was pretty sure he couldn’t even move, weakened or not. Peering worriedly into the dark, he could only wait for something to happen. Sniffing, he realized something was happening—the bitter smell of smoke wafted through the air. Holes appeared in the black, burning through like paper over a candle, their edges bright with embers as they spread.

“Let’s burn ‘im!”

Raz found himself standing on concrete steps facing a raging mob. Brandishing everything from the traditional torches and pitchforks to baseball bats, golf clubs and everything in between, they hooted and hollered in a wild frenzy. Some were edging forward, as if they were afraid to get too close…or simply still debating over whether they were really going to go through with whatever they planned.

“Necromancer!”

“You’ll never get away with this!”

“Get ‘em, before they eat us!”

The mob surged, weapons level with his eyes. Raz raised his hands in protest, tried to cry out, but found the words caught in his throat. There was gunfire, and something cracked over his head—a bat maybe, he was too stunned to see. They held back as he fell, then closed in once more. A man pushed a torch into his chest, burning—

The vision faded the same way it had come, the faces of the bloodthirsty civilians bubbling and melting away like old film. He glimpsed the nightmare dying in the darkness beyond, screaming, its serpentine body writhing and livid yellow eyes flickering out, having exhausted the last of its psitanium-granted energy. Blinking, he found himself flat on the ground and thoroughly shaken. He put his hands over his eyes and held them for a while, trying to refocus. That had been more than just a simple nightmare like he’d thought, complete fiction. It was if things that had really happened had gone wrong.

“Is that… have you been dealing with these nightmares the whole time?” he asked quietly, sitting up to see Norman was looking worriedly at him.

“Yeah… Not just at night, either. I saw them during the day too. It was almost all I could see sometimes…. I‘m okay with bad dreams. I watch a lot of scary movies, it happens. Sometimes I think I‘ll use the really good ones and make my own movies.”

“Heh, sounds like a good plan. But these aren’t regular bad dreams. They’re like nightmares and hallucinations had a baby, then that baby hooked up with your memories,” Raz figured with his fingers, “then they got married and had a psycho-mutant baby and put it on steroids. And then someone let that baby rampage through your head. Pretty much sums everything up.” He nodded matter-of-factly, folding his arms.

“It was those things messing with me, huh?”

“Yeah. Enough of those coming at you all the time? No wonder you shut down. And someone wanted that…”

“So it really is because of someone else?”

“Yeah. You can’t think you’re supposed to have these mutant nightmares, right?”

“Maybe…No. I’m not, am I? You took that last one, so I know it’s not just me that can see them. And you say they’re not normal… you saw what I’ve been dealing with. So… I’m… I’m not alone, am I?”

“Yeah, that’s the spirit!”

“You saw… you took it… you…”

The lightning flared, dazzling Raz’s vision. He tried rubbing it away, but found a weight around his neck. Norman was hugging him.

“Ah, um. Okay,” he stammered, and the boy released him.

“Sorry,” Norman said, scratching the back of his head. “It’s just… having a friend helped me break through. I forgot who I was, and you reminded me. Oh!” He turned to face the tree, bark cleansed of the hypnotic suggestion and branches heavy with leaves. “It’s good to have this back,” he said softly, a relieved smile on his face as his fingers traced the edges of the bark.

Raz was surprised by how soft-spoken he was, considering he’d been explosive just moments ago. “Don’t worry about it. If I finally had my mind back, I’d probably want to hug someone too. You think that was the last of the nightmares?”

“I hope so, at least of the mutant-baby kind,” he smirked, and the two laughed. But then Norman’s face fell. “Everything’s foggy though, the last… two days?” He scrunched his face. “I think I might have hurt my other friends. I—” he choked on his words, eyes wide with panic.

“What? What’s wrong? Another nightmare?”

“Sort of,” he croaked. “Only this one’s real. It‘s—it‘s kind of a long story. There‘s no time!”

“You can tell me a little right? Time passes a bit differently in the mental world, so I think we have some,” Raz shrugged. Besides, he wanted to make sure Norman was really all there. Sometimes it could be hard to tell if things were actually solved right away.

“Um, okay… So, I’m related to a girl who cursed my town three hundred years ago. She could talk to the dead too, but no one knew about her other powers until they killed her. I didn’t think I had them too…. I was hoping I didn’t.” He hugged his arms to his chest, looking troubled.

“So that’s who you were talking about…. Except you’re not dead,” Raz pointed out, and Norman managed a small smile.

“No, but I’m pretty sure she cursed the town before she died, not after. She just got really powerful as a ghost. Anyway, um, there’s this kid who lives here in Gravity Falls. He’s rivals with the Mystery Shack, and wants to take it from my friends any way he can.”

“Including using you, huh? I think I met the guy—short, fat kid with a blue suit and fancy hair?”

“That’s him! What was he doing? Did he say anything about Dipper and Mabel?”

“Ugh, I can’t believe I ever felt sorry for him. He tried to get me to take something from here, then threw me at you hoping I’d get zapped. I tried questioning him, but he got away and I decided helping you was more important. I don’t know anything about your friends. Sorry,” he replied, and Norman bit his fingernails.

“He’s probably doing the same thing to them as he did to me… minus the ‘unlocking crazy witch powers’ part. We’ve gotta go find them!”

“Don’t worry, I will,” Raz reassured him, “but I’m pretty sure you’re going to need to rest. Let me jump outta here and we’ll see.”

“Okay. Raz… in case I like, drop dead or something… thanks. For not listening to me and sticking around to sort my problems.”

“I’m a Psychonaut. It’s what I do,” Raz grinned, pulling the goggles back on and letting his projection fade and weightlessness take over. He passed the medium’s mental barriers and felt they were weak, but rebuilding, which was good; then felt the comfort of his own mind and body at last. Blinking, he pulled the goggles back to their usual spot on his forehead and went to check on his new friend. He was still curled up against the wall, but his limbs had relaxed and there were no longer waves of emotion pouring from him. In fact, he was sound asleep.

“Heh, guess I could say ‘rest in peace’,” Raz chuckled to himself, but he really was glad Norman seemed to be free of those nightmares. But now two other kids were being driven insane too, by someone who sounded like he didn’t need any help from psitanium to have his own mental issues. He rushed down the stairs, made sure the door was bolted behind him, and with a leap was off rolling again. He crossed town, trying to avoid too much attention by using the side streets, but the people here didn’t seem to bat an eye even when he crossed their path. Maybe between a kid psychic and a tourist trap hawking oddities both natural and manufactured, nothing surprised them anymore.

“Huh.” Raz had worried he’d miss the house, but that was impossible with that giant billboard in the front yard. And now he knew the kid’s name too—he hadn’t even introduced himself earlier. Of course that was the least of Gideon’s offenses and not what Raz found detestable about him. Stepping up to the entry, he debated whether to charge in or go stealth mode on the monstrous little jerk. But his decision was made for him when the door opened.

“Oh, well imagine meetin’ you here, friend,” Gideon drawled, seeming genuinely surprised.

“Cut the act, Gideon. I know what you bought on the black market two weeks ago, and what you’re using it for,” Raz said, poking an accusing finger into the other boy’s chest. “I know you’ve got Norman’s friends in there. You’re going to hand them over, and the meteorite, and no one has to get hurt.”

“Y’sure you don’t want to chat a bit first? Maybe over a cola or somethin’?”

“No way! That’s not gonna work on me, and neither is your little hypnosis trick!”

“We’ll see about that, boy!” Gideon growled, wrapping chunky fingers around his tie. Raz felt something fold around his head and force him to stare into the amulet’s center as it glowed, the turquoise light filling his vision. It felt like his mind was being wrapped in a towel, and something pricked at the edges of his consciousness. But that was as far as Gideon got.

“Why can’t I break through? It worked on the others!” he cried angrily, his concentration wavering just enough for Raz to shake the amulet’s effects and rip it from him.

“No!” Gideon howled, tackling the psychic and knocking him to the ground. Raz got the wind knocked out of him, but he refused to let go of the tie. Gideon tried to pry it from his fingers, but superior hand strength was one of the many traits of an acrobat and he didn’t have much luck. Raz punched him off with his free hand, and the chubby kid rolled onto his back, only to meet Raz’s harsh gaze staring down at him.

“You’re not even a real psychic, are you?”

Gideon shook his head, cowed, then found himself lifted and set on the roof.

“You can hang out there for a while. I’ve gotta clean up your mess,” Raz said with a scowl, then stuck the amulet in his bag and strolled into the ranch house, ignoring Gideon’s shrill protests and threats. Shutting a blaring TV off, Raz listened for Gideon’s captives, but he felt them before he heard them. It wasn’t the same aura of negative emotions as Norman had given off. Actually, it was hard to say what was going on with them; there seemed to be something like a feedback loop muddling his perception. At least he knew where they were now, and headed down the hall.

Opening the door, he found the room was dark but for a luminous purple glow coming from behind two forms slumped back to back in chairs. He darted in, and barely noted the pair were twins before shoving the psitanium in its container and putting it in his bag as well. But they—Norman had said their names were Dipper and Mabel—weren’t out of danger yet. The effects of that much psitanium would take a while to wear off, and by then the damage could already be done.

“Uh,” he started, as he began pulling off the bindings around their feet, “just so you guys know, I’m a friend. I already helped Norman, he’s fine now. I’m gonna take you back home, and then help you, okay? Dipper? Mabel?”

“She’s in sweater town…” Mabel groaned, her face buried in the collar of her sweater, and he stared for a moment before frowning sadly and continuing to untie them. There was no response from her brother, which was a bit more concerning, but he couldn’t afford to waste time guessing what his problem was. Tossing the ropes to the floor, he gently lifted the two with projected hands and maneuvered through the house. Gideon was still swearing oaths from the roof as he exited.

“You’ll rue the day you crossed me, goggles! I’ll put a curse on your whole family! You‘ll—”

Raz abruptly turned and smiled at him serenely. “My family’s already cursed. Thanks though.”

Gideon’s face fell as if he was disappointed someone had beaten him to the punch. Raz spun on his heel and continued on, secretly burning with rage. The Pines remained curled in his telekinetic hold, unaware of anything around them; their rival’s irate shouting fell on deaf ears.

Mystery Kids: Beginnings- Part 6

Another part that changed a lot in editing, it's kind of a lot shorter, but hopefully still a good read. :3

Raz found himself in a world that was essentially the opposite of Mabel’s mind. He stood in a large room lined by tall bookshelves—empty ones, because their contents were currently heaped on the floor like old leaves. The ceiling opened to a soft rust-orange sky, and huge trees sank their twisting roots into the piles of books along the walls and cast most of the understory in shadow, while moss and ferns carpeted anywhere not buried in books. The colors were muted; not exactly dull, but everything had a misty, almost ephemeral look. The air felt heavy and damp, and pale turquoise mist drifted just above the ground, coming up to Raz’s waist in some spots. With silence pressing in, it seemed the place had been abandoned for years, and the forest had come to claim what had always belonged to it.

A cluttered hall opened directly ahead, so he started off, heading into the mist and almost immediately coming to another hall that ran perpendicular to the first. One way looked as good as the next, so he headed right, feeling a little bad for all the books he was crumpling underfoot. At least they weren’t real ones, so he continued undaunted, eventually coming to a place where the floor warped and sank into a murky pool, its dark glassy surface dotted by floating pages. It was impossible to tell how deep it was, and he didn’t really want to find out first hand. Some other way across seemed likely. The fallen tree that had lodged in the upper shelves looked promising, caked as it was in moss and vines that trailed down to the water’s edge. Looking past the log, he saw more vines strung down the hall beyond and grinned—he’d found his way through.

Climbing up was a piece of cake, and Raz made sure his footing was steady before judging the distance and leaping to the first vine. Swinging his legs, he built up his momentum and flung to the next one, and the next, making it look effortless as he vaulted over the sunken floor. Making it to the other side, Raz dusted his hands and headed on, taking a sharp left, and then another into a longer hall. Except for his footsteps it was eerily quiet, but a sense of being watched persisted, and he found himself glancing over his shoulder more than once. Of course there was never anything there.

The hall finally opened up into another squarish room, scattered with a few broken tables and decrepit chairs. But here the floor was clear, with rich moss filling the gaps between tan stone tiles in an emerald grid. Raz walked to the center of the room and looked around, perplexed. There wasn’t another way out, and with no way to climb back up to the vines he couldn’t go back the way he came either. But he liked a good puzzle, and it was pretty obvious that was what this room was. The shelves were still empty, so nothing was hidden there. That left the floor and furniture.

The tables and chairs, though splintered and stained from age, refused to break if he punched them, but they could be moved, and Raz wondered if he could stack them high enough to reach the top of the shelves and run up there. There was no harm in trying, so he piled them as high as he could and scaled the rickety pile. But even bouncing with levitation he still came up short. Dropping back on the floor, Raz studied his construction again to see if there was any way he could make it higher, but it was pretty clear he just didn’t have enough stuff.

“So much for that,” he sighed, lowering his gaze in disappointment. “Hm?”

Something looked odd about one of the tiles under a table leg. Getting on his hands and knees, he crawled under to investigate and found the tile had sunk under the tower’s weight. Heedless of any danger he reached over and pressed it. The stack of furniture creaked above him, but a deeper grinding sound caught his attention before stopping with a clunk. Nothing else happened, but Raz grinned. Extracting himself from under the table, he sped around the room, stomping on tiles to see if he got more to budge.

With a grand total of seven hidden buttons, a section of the wall trembled and sank into the floor. Raz congratulated himself on a job well done and ventured down the new hall, which looked about the same as the others, though it was a little foggier here. It also took more twists and turns, to the point that Raz thought he could be lost. The forest was thicker here too, with whole sections of floor overgrown by grass and ferns, the trees overhead casting heavy shadows, their roots so thick down the sides of the bookcases that passage was a tight squeeze in some places. The close quarters and ever-present sense of being watched was making Raz antsy; he kept thinking he saw things darting through the shadows, so when a troop of censors suddenly appeared in front of him he nearly jumped out of his skin. But he was grateful for the action and dealt with them handily before turning back to navigating the forest.

Extracting himself from a tangle of roots, he tripped and tumbled onto his back. Blinking, he found a pair of wide, pale yellow eyes staring back at him before whatever they belonged to darted into the fog with a skittering sound. Raz sprang to his feet and chased after whatever it was through considerably clearer halls, stumbling over the occasional loose book but managing to keep the little dark blur in sight. It moved erratically, darting from side to side and sometimes up the shelves before stumbling and dropping back to the floor, all without breaking its pace until finally they reached a dead end. It tried scampering up the wall, but Raz seized it with a projected hand and brought it closer to get a good look at it.

It seemed to resemble a nightmare, with wide glowing eyes and a shimmering, sleek dark body; but it looked more like cross between a lizard and a centipede with multiple pairs of undulating stick-like legs. Its small pointed face had a jagged mouth that ran all the way to its short neck, and was adorned with two long, twitchy feelers. Its tail was long and thin, and split into three tendrils about a third of the way down that matched the antennae on its head in both appearance and movement. It struggled frantically, hissing quietly while Raz observed it.

“Well you don’t look so bad,” he commented, squinting at the little creature. “Definitely not as bad as a nightmare, though you’re still creepy. Still, you’re not trying to kill me so… guess I can let you go.”

Before he had a chance to, the creature’s hiss grew into a roar of static, and Raz realized that’s what it had always sounded like. Bursting out of his grasp, the critter’s form expanded and changed color, warping until Raz was faced with whole new beast: a huge gnome monster made of an army of actual gnomes. He stared at it in confusion until it bellowed and took a ponderous step in his direction, his cue to run.

While the gnome-monster was slow, space was limited, and Raz found himself going in circles, running into the monster more often than not. He tried blasting it, but only managed to knock off a couple gnomes at a time; the whole creature was made of more gnomes than he had ammo for. Unsure what else to do, he kept running and hoped something would come to him as he dodged the gnomes the larger mass flung at him. Almost rabid in their attacks, the tiny humanoids would try to latch onto him and tear at his face and clothes, but they were a lot like censors and disappeared after a few solid punches.

Raz took a left and finally found a new hall. With the monster still in pursuit, he charged down it hoping it led to a solution. It turned to the right, and Raz uttered a cry as he realized it ended in an impossible heap of books, the shelf tipped over by a determined tree. Scaling the pile, he tried to make a way through only to meet disappointment as more books slid in to replace the ones he dug away. Thundering footsteps echoed behind him, and he knew he’d be in trouble if he didn’t think of something soon. Turning, he watched the conglomerate gnome lumber into view and wracked his brain for what he could do to defeat it. Shooting it didn’t work, and punching took him a little too close for comfort. There was nothing to throw at it, and even pyrokinesis would be hard to pull off. It was pretty clear to him he needed to beat it, so his non-offensive powers wouldn’t work… which left confusion. It wasn’t exactly an offensive technique either, and he didn’t use it much in combat, but at this point it was worth a shot.

Summoning a packet of the highlighter-yellow energy to his hand, he aimed carefully and lobbed it. The packet sailed in a graceful arc and exploded squarely in the hulking creature’s face and wreathed it in sickly green smoke. Wobbling drunkenly and raising a cry, the gnomes collapsed into a heap, and Raz cheered before practically dive-bombing them on his levitation ball. The confused gnomes vanished under him as he rolled through until there was only one left, trying to scramble away. Raz didn’t hesitate to hit it too though, and it reverted to the little skittery creature before fading away.

“Guess I should’ve expected something like that to happen. Now, there’s gotta be some way through here…” he said to himself, studying the heap of books a little more closely now that he didn’t have a gnome monster bearing down on him. There was still no obvious way in, and he couldn’t jump over the tangle of tree roots, so this seemed to be another puzzle. Thinking about what could be done with books, and a lot of them, Raz wondered why he’d tried digging his way through at all. Skidding down the side, he stood a safe distance away and focused. Orange flames sprung from the heap, and soon a tunnel had burned its way through, just big enough for him to crawl in. It came out into another barren hall, but this looked like a straight shot to another room.

Reblogging from my main account as it is relevant and to show that yes, I'm still alive and making things. :3

Instead of something actually productive I did this.

Mystery Kids: Horror

This was a silly idea I had a while ago, and just couldn't let go. So. Enjoy the silly.

Summary: Knowing her friends' interests, Mabel hosts Summerween: Part Two, and Raz discovers a talent he's not sure he's happy to have-- nor is the rest of the group.

“Okay, since you guys missed Summerween, I was thinking we could have our own sorta Halloween-themed party to make up for it,” Mabel said, plopping down amidst the group gathered around the TV, and they gave her a collective look of confusion.

               “Summerween? Sounds kinda… weird,” Lili said, frowning, but Mabel handed her a scrapbook.

               “No way! It’s all the awesomeness of Halloween with the added benefits of summery goodness. Plus Halloween is only the best holiday ever so we should totally celebrate it more than once. We’ve already got the makings of the best Summerween party ever right here,” she explained, and gestured around the room. “Scary movies brought to you by Norman, costume contest judged by yours truly, scary stories and monsters with Raz and my bro—it’d be perfect!”

               “I’m down for that,” Norman said, breaking into a smile, and Dipper nodded.

               “Yeah, and hopefully no candy monster this time. We might have to forget costumes though since the store closed. And also we’re permanently banned from it anyway.”

               “Hmm… okay then, how about… your best evil laugh? I dunno, it’s gotta be something fun but also Halloween-y.”

               “Stan might question our sanity, but he’s been doing that anyway,” Lili said with a smirk. “Sounds good to me.”

               “Alright. Let the preparations begin!” Mabel declared, punching the air, and the room burst with a flurry of activity.

               Dipper helped locate the old decorations, then helped the two psychics deck the living room out while Norman began selecting their movie lineup, a mix between his favorites and ones he knew they’d all enjoyed. With the décor set, Raz went with Mabel to pick out candy from the nearby convenience store; they managed to come back with three bags of the stuff thanks to a buy-two-get-one-free sale and a moldy-looking ten dollar bill they’d found in the cushions of the recliner. Everything was set, and with an air of great ceremony, they closed the blinds, shut off the lights, and started the first movie.

               Three films later they were ready for a break; the first bowl of candy was practically gone and Norman had started things off with some real chillers. Mabel came downstairs with Waddles in his businessman outfit, and Raz blinked at him before scratching behind the pig’s ears; so that’s where those had come from. Dipper passed around sodas for everyone, and they agreed it was time for scary stories. Lili was in the middle of one about a hideous creature that went around at night stealing the brains of unsuspecting children when Soos poked his head in.

               “’Sup dudes! What’s goin’ on? It looks all spooky in here,” he said, admiring the room’s new furnishings before stepping in.

               “Soos! We’re having an unofficial Summerween part two!” Mabel answered brightly, and the handyman’s face lit up.

               “Sweet! Mind if I join in?” They made room for him on the floor, and he helped himself to some of the candy. “So what’re we doing?”

               “Scary stories, not all of which are true,” Norman explained, “but we won’t tell you which ones.”

               “Excellent. Let the storytelling continue.”

               And so it did until they were ready for more silver screen horrors, which Norman was happy to supply. Eventually it got late though, and they were almost out of sweets. It was the perfect time for a contest.

               “Okay, so since the only one here with a costume is Waddles, I’m thinking we go with the evil laugh contest. We heard some good ones today, so we should all be inspired,” Dipper said, turning to the group, and his sister nodded.

               “Definitely. So! We can all go in a circle or something, and whoever has the best one as judged by all of us wins. Who wants to go first?”

               “Dude! Dude! Me! Pick me!” Soos waved his arm like a kindergartener who knew the answer before anyone else did.

               “Let’s hear it!” Mabel cheered, and he obliged, though it was only a slightly harsher version of his usual guffaws. They all clapped and looked to the next person in line—Norman. He got points for trying, but his voice was ultimately too light to really hold up. Dipper was next, and managed to be the most successful yet, turning an unfortunate break in his voice into an escalation of madness instead. He high-fived his sister before it was her turn, but her attempt sounded forced—there wasn’t an evil bone in her body, they decided. Last came the psychics’ turns. Lili produced the greatest banshee cackle they’d ever heard, truly an outstanding performance, but Raz of all people was hesitant. He made various false starts before giving an apologetic shrug.

               “Sorry guys,” he finally said, and Lili patted him on the back.

               “Ya gotta give it a shot,” Mabel pleaded. “Even I tried and we agreed I should never try to laugh like a mad scientist again.”

               “I don’t even know where to start though,” he reasoned, and this time Dipper looked disappointed.

               “We just watched some of the greatest examples of overdramatic villainous laughter you could ask for, and I’m pretty sure you’ve fought at least one bad guy who laughs at anything. You’ve got all kinds of examples man.”

               “I know… just give me a moment. Maybe it’s just performance anxiety making me blank.”

               “It’s not a test…” Lili trailed, looking skeptical.

               “I know, but I wanna do a good one. If I do, I’m going all out.”

               They fell quiet as he concentrated and took a few breaths to relax, then a smirk crossed his face as he pulled the goggles over his eyes. He really was taking this seriously.

               It started as a quiet chuckle, then in one breath roared into the most deranged laughter anyone in the room had ever heard. Even Lili backed away as it rose to a frightening crescendo, then finally died away with a final long, hoarse note. Then Raz cleared his throat—and hid his face, even though most of it was already covered by the goggles. They sat in stunned silence until Soos finally broke it.

               “Dude. That was intense.”

               “Raz wins,” Mabel squeaked from where she hid behind her brother’s shoulder, and they all fervently nodded.

               “I’m dating a madman…” Lili trailed; that got Raz’s attention. He broke from hiding, removing his goggles and taking her hand in his, genuinely worried until she punched him lightly.

               “Sorry. Guess I really did go all out,” he said, rubbing his shoulder. “In all fairness, I had no idea I could even sound like that, so it sorta scared me too.”

               “I, for one, am glad Raz is a good guy,” Dipper said, and they all nodded again. “Though I guess if he was a bad guy he’d have the laugh down pat.”

               “Dude, maybe he was evil, in like a past life or something,” Soos proposed, looking thoughtful.

               “Who knows. All the stuff we’ve seen, anything’s possible,” Dipper replied. “Anyway, on that note I think we can declare this party a success. Better clean up before Stan comes in and yells at us.”

               The man in question was standing just outside the door, his back plastered against the wall and horror spread across his face. He’d been intending to join the kids in their little Summerween sequel; after all he loved the holiday himself, and he hadn’t gotten time to bond with his niece and nephew lately what with running the Shack, so it seemed like the perfect opportunity. But now….

People had always talked about the voice of reason, but Stan Pines was wondering if he’d just heard the voice of insanity instead, and it belonged, ironically enough, to a kid frequently tasked with curing it. His eyes widened as he considered the implications, then trudged off, doing his best to forget everything he’d heard in the last ten minutes.

Hee, thank you~!

Concept Art Time!

As promised, here are the drawings I did when coming up with Norman’s mental world and the stories behind them! 

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