Haha, I Think You Meant Raz There, But Yeah, I Always Thought He Went Into A Sort Of Trance Much Like

Haha, I think you meant Raz there, but yeah, I always thought he went into a sort of trance much like whomever's mind he enters (hinted at by how Edgar's speech trails off as Raz enters his mind in-game). If I remember correctly he only really moves when he gets booted out (at least in cutscenes), so it would follow that he's pretty much immobile otherwise. ^^

Anyway glad to hear you're enjoying it so far, and I apologize for being a terrible person and not following my own schedule. ><

The Fic with No Title: Part 5

Heh, I know it’s not Friday yet, but I missed Tuesday, so here you go! This one's a bit shorter than usual, I think, but hopefully still good.

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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.

--------

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: Ruse

What's this? Another short fic? Of course! Another silly one, though not for the same reasons as the last one. ^^ And... I guess I'll do summaries now? Summaries are cool.

Summary: When a tourist demands to see the local child psychic, Stan Pines isn't about to let his competition cash in on his customers. He has a solution, but the parties involved aren't entirely pleased...

------

“Dipper! The shelves in back need reorganizing again!” Stan bellowed into the rest of the house, keeping an eye on the bus full of tourists that had just pulled in. There was no reply, and the old man growled to himself, straightening his tie and flipping the eye patch down before heading out to greet his next victi— customers. He’d get the kids to organize merchandise later. With a flash and cloud of smoke, the show began. A well-rehearsed spiel kept folks laughing and spending their money before they had a chance to think about what they were really buying; though he was certain many came specifically for the tourist trap experience. People were weird like that, but hey, it kept his pockets lined with cash. What did he care so long as they kept coming for more?

               “And now, to your left you’ll see— ”

               “Is this where the child psychic lives?” a woman asked, interrupting his line, and for a moment Stan grit his teeth.

               “Please save all questions for the end of the tour,” he replied gruffly, and continued what he’d been in the middle of describing. “As I was saying, over here we have a creature so horrifying, the few who know its name dare not speak it. Ready your cameras folks, this is gonna be good. Behold, the—”

               “I want to see the child psychic! He’s the whole reason I came here, I‘ll leave if I don’t!”

               The grizzled con man stiffened and whirled on the tour group, squinting at the woman who’d interrupted yet again. He thought for a bit, mind racing as he tried to make the most of the situation. He saw the wrinkled flyer in her hand, that pale chubby face winking at him from between her fingers. He wasn’t about to tell her to take her business elsewhere, and especially there.

               “Will any kid psychic do?”

               “Well… I wanted to see this one, but…” She looked at the flyer for a moment, and shrugged. “I guess so.”

               “Anyone else wanna see the kid psychic?”

               There was a cheer from the crowd, and Stan saw something that always warmed his heart— people waving handfuls of money.

               “Very well. I’ll let him know he’s on, and you lovely folks make your way to the gift shop, down that hallway. I’ll be right back.”

               The group seemed agreeable, heading happily to the shop while he went in the other direction. Time to put Raz on the spot, whether he liked it or not. He was some kind of government agent and a performer, he could handle the pressure. The best part was that he wasn’t a fraud, and what better way to one-up the resident ‘child psychic’ than with an actual child psychic? It was perfect.

               “Grunkle Stan, the floor is lava!” Mabel’s shrill voice greeted him as he entered the living room. The floor was actually still forty-year-old carpet and boards, but for some reason the kids he was in charge of were perched in peculiar places. Dipper balanced on the back of the recliner, Norman was on a chair laid on its side, Mabel balanced over the aquarium, and Raz… was clinging to the stonework on the wall?

               “Acrobats,” Stan hissed under his breath, but the young psychic gave him a look. Stan simply returned it, and grabbed him off the wall by his jacket.

               “Hey! We were in the middle of some serious volcano exploring,” Raz protested, and the old man scoffed.

               “Yeah, well I’m in the middle of some serious tourist exploiting, and I need your psychic kid powers.”

               “But I’m not supposed to—”

               “Save it for someone who cares. I just need ya to read some minds and bend a couple spoons, that’s it. And look cute too, I guess. Your competition’s Gideon so it shouldn’t be too hard, am I right? Hah!”

               Raz rolled his eyes. “I might’ve been raised in the circus, but that doesn’t mean you can make me your personal sideshow attraction.”

               “Under my roof, under my rules, kid. Now get out there and give the people what they want or you’re outta here.”

               “Fine,” Raz huffed, and Stan let him walk. Rather than head straight to the gift shop though, they wound through the museum to a platform Stan had at times used to exhibit a ‘pre-teen wolf-boy’ and the ‘question baby’, and would now be the stage for the Shack’s very own child psychic. Pulling some free-standing curtains from one of the other exhibits, Stan set them up and adjusted the spotlights before shoving Raz behind the thick velvet drapes.

               “Okay, I’m gonna get the tourists and you come up with some snappy little song or something. I’ll be back.”

               “But I can’t sing!”

               “You can learn. Now get ready, you’re on in a minute.”

               “Ah jeez,” Raz said with a sigh as Stan hurried off to fetch the group. If he’d been asked to do an impromptu acrobatic gig, he could probably come up with something, but a psychic show? He didn’t know anything about how to put one on. Well, he supposed he knew a little; it was probably a bit like a magic show, minus pulling rabbits out of hats and sawing beautiful ladies in half. Maybe he could just levitate some stuff and the people would be happy. But that wouldn’t be as much fun… and Milla always said to make the most out of any situation you found yourself in. Raz grinned and sped off to where he knew Stan kept spare smoke grenades. Mr. Pines wanted a show? Oh, he’d give him a show alright.

               With the crowd of tourists following dutifully behind him, Stan returned and positioned himself just to the side of the curtain where it’d be most convenient to pull aside. An improvised speech already in mind, he hoped Raz was ready. Eyeing his audience, he noted they at least looked excited for yet another scam. Ironic then that this was the real deal.

               “And now, as requested, I present to you, the Mystery Shack’s own child psychic!” He drew the curtains back, catching for a brief instant that no one was there-- then the stage erupted in a flash and a cloud of smoke before he could storm off to berate the kid for leaving his post. Apparently he knew more about showmanship than he’d let on. As the smoke cleared, a figure slowly came into view, doing the classic psychic stance and goggles obscuring his eyes. The crowd gave a collective ‘ooh’, and Stan knew he was onto something good already.

               “My name is Razputin,” he began in a low voice that held the group captive, and relaxed from his pose. “I know what you’re all thinking-- I can’t really be psychic, I don’t look like a psychic, what’s with the goggles…” He paused to let his words sink in, because they were in fact things the crowd had thought, and the realization seemed to set in as jaws slackened and eyes grew wide. Mind-reading was pretty easy, and how he’d learned he was psychic to begin with; and now, it’d be his main billing. “I am here today to show you, however brief, a glimpse at the power of the mind.” Assuming his pose again and with a little concentration, he lifted a man’s camera out of his loose hands and took a photo of the group with it, then set it back without laying a single finger on it. There was an awed gasp from the rest, then others started waving their cameras and begging him to do the trick again.

               “Don’t you wanna see what else I can do?” he said over the clamoring tourists, and they went still. The answer was of course, yes.

               An hour and about 200 dollars later Raz took a bow, and the show was over. A busload of happy tourists rode into the late afternoon sun, and the Shack was quiet at last. Stan’s eyes practically glittered as he counted up the earnings, and he grabbed the psychic by his helmet before he could walk off.

               “You’re a goldmine kid, a natural. We are gonna go places!”

               “Uh, thanks, but no. I already have a stable, fulfilling career as a Psychonaut.”

               “Yeah, well, you could go into showbiz with what you did on that stage. I might incorporate you into the regular tour. Hmm, have t’ think about that.”

               Raz left the con artist to his ramblings. As much fun as the performance had been— he really did like making people smile and amazing them— he wasn’t so thrilled about it becoming a regular thing. Scamming people was an abuse of his powers, and didn’t sit well with him at all, but there was no convincing Stan otherwise once he had a real moneymaker on his hands. He sensed his friends had moved on from volcano exploring and trudged upstairs to join them.

               “Hey man, how’d it go? Stan can be a real pain,” Dipper said when he entered the room, and he nodded.

               “The actual ‘putting on a show’ thing wasn’t so bad, considering I’ve been performing most of my life. It was kinda fun actually, the people really liked it.”

               “Well duh,” Mabel said, flopping upside-down over the edge of her bed. “You’re only the most amazing psychic ever.”

               “Thank you, thank you,” Raz said, taking another elaborate bow and making the others laugh. “The problem is, Mr. Pines wants me to make it a regular thing now.”

               “Oh…” Dipper said with a grimace.

               “Kids!”

               They collectively flinched at the call, then got up and headed down to see what their guardian wanted, filing into the dining room where Stan had a notebook and an adding machine set up. He was looking quite pleased with himself, and the kids had a sneaking suspicion why.

               “Okay, so I’ve been doin’ some figuring. Raz raked in a pretty good haul, and his act beats Gideon’s by a mile. But then I thought, what’s better than a kid psychic? A kid psychic and a kid medium in a headlining double-act! It’s flawless!”

               “What?!” Norman exclaimed, his jaw dropping in shock. “But— but I can’t do anything!”

               “Sure ya can, you talk to dead people right?”

               “What, you mean like— hold a séance or something? But that’s not how it—”

               “Look, it doesn’t even have to be real. We’ll get you a Ouija board and Raz here can move it around, make the table levitate or something.”

               “Then why not… just have me do it?” Raz suggested, even though he was still against the idea, and the others backed him up.

               “The more mystery at the Mystery Shack the better. In three days you guys are holding your first show. Dipper, Mabel, you guys are in charge of advertising. I want flyers up all over town where people can see ‘em. Raz and Norman, you come up with an act, get some snazzier clothes and names, the whole thing.”

               “Names?”

               “You know, stage names. I guess ‘Razputin’ is alright, but no one’s gonna come see a medium named ‘Norman’. I’m thinkin’… Morty, as in ‘mortician’ or mortuary’. Sort of a play on words, ya get it?”

               Norman got it, but was far from okay with it. But the man’s mind was made up, and he sent them off with their new jobs weighing on them. The whole thing was unfair, but then, Stan wasn’t known for upholding equality or child labor laws.

               “This is ridiculous,” Norman mumbled, hands stuffed in his pockets and looking sullen. “Unless these people have ghosts following them I can’t do anything.”

               “‘Morty the Medium’ sounds like some kind of cutesy puppet guy. He’d be all sad all the time because all his friends are dead, and no one wants to talk to him because he’s all gloomy except for maybe this one other guy who always tries to cheer everyone up,” Mabel rambled, grabbing a notebook and sketching the characters in question before holding them up for everyone to see.

               “Uh…” Norman trailed, narrowing his eyes. “How about no.”

               “I’ve got it!” Dipper sat bolt upright, smiling. “We sabotage it. We make it go so badly no one wants to ever see it again, and Stan has to give up on it.”

               Three days, five mirrors, seventeen feet of fishing line, and two terrible stage names later the tourists left the Shack with pockets still at least half full. Stan couldn’t understand what had gone so horribly wrong. He could’ve sworn he had a superstar on his hands, a ticket to the high life; but now he was forced to watch as the busses and cars pulled away with hardly a case of chintzy knickknacks sold. He looked at the four kids gathered on the museum floor before him and shook his head, thoroughly disappointed.

               “Look, if you’re gonna make something terrible, it has to be so bad it swings right back around to bein’ good. Not whatever you did. Guess that shows me to put you knuckleheads in charge of anything again. Now clean up this mess, I’ve gotta come up with some new, not-terrible exhibit.”

               They watched their cantankerous guardian leave the room and waited until they figured he was beyond earshot to cheer and exchange high-fives, but froze when he stuck his head back through the door and eyed them suspiciously.

               “That doesn’t sound like cleaning to me…” he growled, and the group leapt to work. He watched them for a while longer, then trudged back to the living room to relax now that the business day was over. Undoing his tie and casting off the eyepatch, he leaned back into the recliner, dug out the remote from between the cushions, then paused as something thudded back in the museum and Mabel’s “I’m okay!” rang through the house, which set him thinking. The kids had looked awfully cheerful to be told to clean up the first time…

               “Almost like they were happy not to be doing that show…” he wondered aloud to himself, then shook his head. “Nah. Kids can’t act.”

This is a preview! That's right, a preview! 

This is my design for a creature set to appear in the next major installment of my Mystery Kids ficverse (Can I say that? Is that right?), the splintercat! A creature from lumberjack folklore, it seems like the perfect candidate for a Gravity Falls appearance.

The basic legend is that they leap through trees at night, finding ones that house bee hives. The splintercat then launches itself into the tree headfirst, knocking all the branches and bark off, leaving ghostly barren stands. Because of the resulting headache from such a reckless attack, they are always in a foul mood and approaching one is ill-advised.

My ideas for it is that it's descended from saber-tooth cats; its powerful limbs and claws let it climb higher than most animals its size, and while it has a thickened skull it still suffers from chronic headaches. Thick fur that once insulated it from the cold now protects it from bee stings when it pursues its preferred food, though it's capable of hunting other prey should hives be in short supply. Like bears, they hibernate in winter, migrating to the mountains where their gray fur blends in better and they're less likely to be disturbed, even though they're already incredibly stealthy and rare.

Anyway, thank you all for sticking around, and I hope you're looking forward to the next part, despite how long it's taking! <3

I'm bored. People should totally send me writing prompts.

Just remember the only pairings I'm comfortable writing are canon (and noooo nsfw please), but I like having all the different characters interact, so I guess if you're wanting some fluff this is the place. :D

I'll open questions on this post in case people can't find the ask box?? So what do you want to read?

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.