This Is A Preview! That's Right, Apreview!

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?

Prologue

Reposted from my main blog, this short story lays the groundwork for the rest of my Mystery Kids stuff. It's been polished up a bit, so hopefully it's a little nicer to read than the original. Enjoy!

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Summer road trips are always interesting. Long car rides broken by the odd tourist attraction or historical monument, camping that ends with everyone sleeping in the car, and sundry wildlife, the most menacing of which generally have six legs and fly.

Norman expected all these things, but he never expected to meet two kids as comfortable with the paranormal as he was.

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Pop. Smack smack smack. Puff— pop.

Perry Babcock shifted his grip on the steering wheel, glaring at the road ahead. He glanced at the rearview mirror where he could see his teenage daughter loudly enjoying her gum as she read a fluffy romance novel. He didn’t understand the appeal of either romance novels or gum, but only one was driving him up the wall after two hours on the road.

Pop.

“Will you quit with the popping already! I have had it up to here,” he finally burst, “with that noise!”

“Maybe we should take a break, dear,” Sandra Babcock said in her airy way, laying a gentle hand on her husband’s arm, and he scowled. Courtney, who had almost choked on her gum at her father’s outburst, quickly spat it out. It was way past flavorless anyway, and she was getting to the good part— now was not the time to be distracted. The protagonist was about to profess her love to the three guys she was interested in, though Courtney was certain one was a total jerk even if he was a hottie. 

Norman looked skeptically at them all, then went back to his own book, a choose-your-own zombie adventure they’d picked up at a used bookstore in Portland. It was good so far, though he was pretty sure he knew how it would end. That tended to happen when you’d seen as many movies as he had, and there were only so many ways to beat a zombie uprising. 

“I haven’t seen a sign for a town in miles. You think we should just pull over?” Perry griped, gesturing at the road ahead, and his wife shrugged.

“We might have to. Besides, the forest looks nice, don’t you think?”

“It’s probably full of bears or mountain lions, or mosquitoes. You want to go out in that?”

I’m sure something will come along soon. Just keep your eyes open,” Sandra said cheerfully, turning to watch the scenery flash by.

The Babcocks had never really been ones to take family vacations. They’d been to the beach of course, but that had been years ago, when the kids were quite young. Norman didn’t even really remember it besides the water being really cold and salty. So when his mom had proposed this huge cross-country trek as a means of ‘family bonding time’, everyone had been skeptical, Perry most of all. He had complained to his boss about the craziness of it all, but earned no sympathy— the manager had fond memories of a similar trip as a kid and had insisted he have the time off. As soon as school finished the family stuffed the car with their things and left a few days later. Neil had made Norman promise he’d take lots of pictures and send him postcards about all the ghosts he met along the way, while Courtney exchanged (apparently) tearful hugs with all her girlfriends, vowing to text them whenever she had service.

And now here they were, on their way back after reaching the Pacific ocean and taking the less stressful ‘scenic route’ as Sandra liked to say. It took longer, but not dealing with traffic was much easier on Perry’s temper. In the same vein, it’d been decided they would stop anywhere that seemed interesting if only to get out of the car and have some space. Norman was grateful this included haunted houses— not the fake kind put on for Halloween, but the historical a-murder-happened-in-this-room kind. Those were fun. Seeing his family's reactions to what any lingering spirits had to say even more so.

“Finally!’ his dad cried with relief as a green highway sign appeared on the horizon. “Okay, two miles. Not bad.”

“You kids ready for a break?” Sandra asked, peering around her headrest with a smile.

“I guess so,” Norman replied, putting a bookmark where he’d left off and setting the book beside him. He glanced over at his sister, who seemed to be enthralled with whatever drama had arisen. She was holding the novel mere inches from her nose, eyes wide and attentive as a serious love quadrangle unfolded. Was she… holding her breath too? Norman laughed softly; he admitted he did the same with his favorite movies, so he really couldn’t blame her.

“Oh. My. God. I can’t believe she went with Derrick! She’s totally better than him!” she finally exclaimed shrilly, snapping the book shut with an annoyed sigh. 

“After all that drama I am so ready to get out of here.”

The exit finally came up, and they were suddenly swallowed in the shadow of the forest as it enclosed both sides of the road. The trees were thick and ancient here; Norman spotted what looked like a 18th century fur trapper lost in the thickets and felt sorry for the wandering spirit. Then there was a lumberjack endlessly sawing away at nothing, and a pioneer with an arrow through his hat— and skull. So many ghosts already; this town was sure to have an interesting past.

They drove past a diner carved straight out of a massive fallen redwood, and down a Main Street that looked like most of its buildings were 1800s originals, with a few more modern additions in between. The road was mostly empty, but there were plenty of people out and about walking, enjoying the fresh air and saving a bit on gas. In such a small town, it was pretty easy to do. Framed by trees, on a hill overlooking this speck of civilization, was a large billboard that read in large, bold letters: 

Welcome to Gravity Falls!

“What a quaint little town!” Sandra practically squealed, looking eagerly out the windows. “I wonder what kind of souvenirs we can find here.”

“It's too much like home to me,” her husband grumbled, “and you’ve already bought a ton of stuff. Where are you gonna put it all?”

“Looks boring,” Courtney huffed, flipping her ponytail. Norman was too busy ghost-spotting to care what his family was saying, making a list of everyone he saw in a small notebook he’d brought for exactly this. It was almost half-full already.

“Ooh, look Norman, they’ve got one of those mystery spot things here,” his mom was cooing, pointing out a sign posted near the road. He didn’t quite have the heart to tell her those places weren’t really his thing, and he was pretty sure most of them were shams anyway.

“Are we stopping or not?” Perry demanded.

“It looks fun. Let’s go,” Sandra smiled blithely, and her husband made the turn. Courtney rolled her eyes, but at least maybe there’d be a cute boy working there. She’d gotten about three phone numbers this way, though she wasn’t sure she could handle a long-distance relationship. It was hard to say.

The gasping station wagon rolled into the gravel parking lot, and the engine sounded relieved when Perry put it in park and shut the thing off. It was a wonder it hadn’t broken down somewhere in the expanses of South Dakota, but it had survived and even pulled through the mountain passes with only minor hiccups. Of course there was still the trip back to worry about, but for now the family thought of their car as something of a hardened warrior. 

The Mystery Shack was a ragged old building that had seen far better days. Norman felt like he could get splinters just by looking at it too long, and moss had sprouted from the aging roof. It had managed to snag a few other tourists though, and they joined them in waiting for the next showing in ten minutes. Courtney flailed at any insect that flew too close, while Perry shifted his weight from foot to foot and Sandra merely enjoyed the atmosphere. Norman was with his mom in a way; it was peaceful in the old forest and smelled like pine. It was places like this he wished he could come to more often and escape the world. 

The door finally snapped open, and an old man appeared in a flash of smoke. He certainly seemed the character, Norman thought. Dressed sharply in a suit and sporting a fez, he beckoned the crowd in with an eight-ball cane and a broad grin.

“Welcome folks, to a world of mystery! The likes of which defy all explanation and will leave you shocked beyond belief. I’ll be your guide through this world of wonder for only a small fee.”

Perry begrudgingly parted with $80, muttering under his breath that it’d better be worth it. Stepping inside, he was certain it wasn’t, but it was too late now. The tour began as soon as the man had counted up the cash and stuffed it in an inner pocket.

The place was full of interesting things, Norman decided, though none of them particularly mysterious. There were mutant animals, cobbled-together chimeras (some were better than others), and plenty of optical illusions. He liked reading the plaques that related the story behind the displays, but the tour didn’t let people linger on each farce for too long, which meant he was left behind pretty quick. It wasn’t long before he was wandering the dimly lit halls alone.

Being alone usually didn’t bother Norman. He’d been alone for a long time, it was something he was used to. But this place made him uneasy. He hadn’t seen any ghosts, yet he felt he was being watched by more than the dusty taxidermy animal eyes. Hurrying down the hall, he spotted the sign pointing to the gift shop and headed that way, certain his mom would stop by in search of some chintzy knickknack to mail home. Maybe he’d pick out a postcard to send to Neil while he was there, tell him about the weird tourist trap his parents had dragged him to. Neil would probably think this place was really cool.

The gift shop was lit far better than the rest of the house, though Norman noted his sister would be disappointed to learn it was a girl working the register. She didn’t seem to notice him, her nose buried in a music magazine. Which was fine with him. He browsed the rack of postcards, picking out one with a picture of the Mystery Shack before a familiar green glow drew his attention.

It was a deer ghost, with a proud rack of antlers and a seam running around its neck and bullet holes in its coat. He hovered in front of a mounted bust— presumably his original head, but with things like fish fins in place of his ears and a pair of wolf fangs glued into his mouth. Norman frowned, understanding the animal’s pain right away. If his body had been disrespected that way, he probably wouldn’t rest either. Glancing over at the girl at the register, Norman quietly walked to where the buck floated. The animal spooked for a moment, bounding through a wall, but he waited patiently until it poked its head back through and approached him cautiously. He put his hand out, and the spirit nuzzled it, a fine tingle like weak static brushing his fingers.

There was a rustle from the counter, and Norman quickly stuffed his hands in his pockets as the girl checked the clock, then rose and exited the shop, apparently unaware he was there at all. At least he could talk now. The deer had retreated into the wall again, startled by his sudden movement, so he called to it reassuringly.

“Come on, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said gently, and the buck poked its head back in before deciding the coast was clear and coming closer.

“You’re probably mad about what they did to your body, huh?”

The animal snorted and shook its head, and Norman thought for a bit.

“Not mad huh? I guess that’s good. Maybe… you’d like a proper burial?”

It nuzzled his cheek and licked it, sending a tingle through his face and making him laugh.

“Well, I can’t just take this thing down. First of all, it’s not mine, and second, I’m not tall enough to reach it,” he explained. It was true though; he might reach the nose if he jumped but that was it. The deer stamped a hoof, apparently in frustration.

“I know. Sorry I’m not much help. I’m sure it’ll get buried someday though.”

The deer lowered its head and nestled it on his shoulder, and he stroked the animal’s powerful neck before it perked up, ears alert. Squinting, he turned to see what the deer was looking at— and found a boy about his age staring at him. Norman pursed his lips and dropped eye contact. What was he going to say?

“What were you doing just now?” the boy asked, looking skeptical with his arms folded.

“I was, uh, admiring this… thing,” he replied, gesturing at the tacked-together mount. The boy narrowed his eyes.

“You were talking to someone, and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t Wendy.”

Norman stood with hands close to his chest, mouth slightly agape as he tried to figure out what to say. Well, maybe the truth would scare this kid off. Inhaling, he gathered his nerves. 

“I was talking to the ghost of the deer that was used to make this thing.”

“Whoa. Wait, animals can have ghosts?” Now the kid just sounded intrigued. Great.

“Well, yeah. Not as often as people, but just about anything can come back.”

“And you… talk to them? They can talk back?”

“Not with words.” 

“How do I know you’re not just crazy?”

“Does it matter?”

“Well… your conversation makes a lot more sense if you’re talking to the ghost of that thing,” the boy reasoned, rubbing his chin. 

“So… you heard all of it, huh?”

“Pretty much. I’m Dipper by the way,” he said, smiling.

“You’re not… weirded out by me?” It was Norman’s turn to narrow his eyes skeptically.

“Please, if you knew what I’ve seen around here, you'd be the one weirded out. Gravity Falls must be a weirdness magnet or something,” he said with a shrug. Norman raised a brow.

“Like what?”

“Try cursed wax statues. Or a time traveler. Or the eighth-and-a-half president. Not to mention I‘ve seen ghosts too.”

Norman was wondering if Dipper was the crazy one here. Something about his expression must have given away what he was thinking, because Dipper’s smug smile turned sour.

“Of course no one ever believes me,” he grumbled, scuffing the floor with his foot.

“Sorry. I know what that’s like,” Norman said, scratching the back of his head, and Dipper lit up.

“So you believe me?”

“Well, it’s kind of incredible… but I guess stranger things have happened.”

“You said it. So for that deer to move on, we have to bury that thing?” Dipper said, walking over to get a good look at the tacky mount.

“Well yeah, but… isn’t that old guy gonna be mad?”

“Stan? Nah, he’s got like, twenty in back. Lemme get my sister and we’ll help you.”

Norman watched him run off, eyes wide. No one besides Neil ever wanted to help him. He looked back at the deer ghost and shrugged, and the animal licked his nose before prancing happily around the gift shop and right through Dipper as he came back with twin sister in tow.

“This is the guy I was telling you about. Apparently he talks to ghosts and could use our help,” he was explaining, and his sister seemed thrilled.

“Whoa! You mean we’ve had a secret ghost buddy and we didn’t even know it?”

“Sorta,” Dipper chuckled. “Anyway, this is Mabel. Mabel, this is— wait, what’s your name?” 

“Norman.”

The twins stared in shock for a moment.

“…What?”

“Uh, nothing! Just— a guy we knew. He was… kinda strange,” Dipper explained, and Mabel nodded. Norman knit his brow.

“We’ll explain later. Let’s take care of this ghost before Stan shows up.” 

Working together, the three dragged in a chair, and Norman spotted while Mabel clambered onto her brother’s shoulders and lifted the heavy object off the wall. They seemed fine, then Dipper’s leg cramped and Mabel lost her grip on the mount. It barely missed Norman’s head and smashed into the floor, knocking the back and both antlers off. A glass eye rolled loose, and the siblings exchanged worried looks with Norman, who then looked to their 'client'.

The deer seemed stunned, then pawed sadly at one of his shattered antlers and closed his eyes in mourning. The medium patted the buck’s neck comfortingly, then set about picking up the broken bits of antler up while the twins grabbed the other pieces. Then, finding a shovel, they headed outside, the spirit walking gracefully alongside as they went in search of a good place to lay his remains to rest. Norman got that sense of being watched again, but noticed Dipper was scrutinizing his every move— probably trying to figure out if he was pulling their legs or not.

Eventually the deer stopped at a secluded mossy patch in a small clearing. A tiny stream bubbled nearby, and there was only the sound of birds chattering in the trees. He stamped a hoof down in the moss, near a small tussock of grass, then laid down on it— as close as he could, considering he was floating.

“Here,” Norman pointed to the spot, and Dipper dug into the moss, exposing the rich brown earth underneath. They all took turns digging until the hole was about two feet deep, just enough to hold the taxidermy head. Norman placed it gently in, laying the broken antlers as close to their original spots as he could, then together they heaped the dirt on top, replacing the moss as best they could when the thing was covered. Mabel found a few wildflowers to lay on the grave, and Norman watched as the deer bowed his head to all of them and melted away, at peace.

“What happened? Is he gone?” Mabel asked, and he nodded, smiling.

“So we really helped him. Huh,” Dipper wondered aloud, brushing dirt from his hands. “I wonder how many other ghosts are around town we could help.”

“Probably a lot. I was making a list of everyone I saw when we drove through,” Norman said, and Dipper’s eyes widened.

“You’ve got a whole list?” 

“Yeah… I’ve kinda been writing a friend at home about all the spirits I’ve seen.” 

“Whoa. I’ve gotta see this! You‘ll show me right?” 

Norman nodded, and the three headed back to the Shack. Upon reentering the gift shop they saw the tour was over as people crowded in to comb through overpriced coffee mugs and bobble-heads. Dipper quickly grabbed one of the many ‘No Refunds’ signs and hung it on the bare nail they’d left, then helped his sister drag the chair out of the room. Norman found his mom debating which bobble-head looked the cutest, while his dad was flipping through a brochure and Courtney was furiously texting away.

“Hey sweetie, there you are,” she said, ruffling his hair when she finally noticed him. “Find some new friends?”

“Uh, yeah actually. They’re into paranormal stuff too,” he smiled, and waved at them as they came back in.

“Well aren’t you two just adorable!” Sandra gushed as the twins walked over. 

Dipper’s eye twitched but he composed himself for his new friend’s mom.

“Nice to meet you Norman’s mom!” Mabel said with a braces-filled grin, and the older woman laughed. “We were wondering if Norman could hang out here for a while. He’s super cool!”

“For a little while, sure, but I think his dad wanted to be leaving soon,” she said apologetically, glancing over at Perry, who had decided to try on a few of the hats to pass the time.

“Then there’s no time to lose!” Mabel cried, grabbing Norman’s wrist and dragging him away.

“Sorry, my sister’s kind of energetic,” Dipper hurriedly explained before joining them, but Sandra just looked happy her son was making more friends. Mabel led Norman into the living room, where Soos was watching TV until Stan gave him something else to fix, clean, or otherwise take care of.

“Hey dudes. Check it out, this guy’s gonna break the world record for most gumballs chewed in an hour riding on a unicycle,” the large man grinned, eyes glued to the screen. It was only when Dipper walked in that Soos took a second look. “Whoa, there’s three of you now. S’up, new kid?”

“Soos! This is Norman. He’s visiting with his family, but you’ll never guess what he can do!” Mabel said, leaping onto the armrest opposite their friend.

“I dunno, but I seem to remember you guys knowing another Norman. Wasn’t that guy like a zombie or something?”

“A… a zombie?” Norman said incredulously, looking at the twins.

“Don’t worry, he wasn’t actually one,” Dipper started, but he shook his head.

“No no, you don’t get it— I love zombies.”

For a few moments, there was only the sound of the TV. Then Dipper put a hand to his forehead and sat down. Soos and Mabel exchanged glances, while Norman’s gaze darted between them all.

“Okay, this is weird, even for Gravity Falls,” Dipper finally exclaimed.

“Dude seems normal to me. I mean, besides the whole coincidence thing,” Soos said, shrugging.

“Uh, I… talk to the dead.”

Soos’ eyes popped. “Okay dudes, I’m with you on this. That is majorly bizarro right there.”

“I’m starting to think I was right when I said this place is a weirdness magnet earlier,” Dipper sighed.

“Or maybe you’re a weirdness magnet,” Mabel teased, giggling, and her brother shot her a look.

“We have to find a way for you to hang out with us more. Where are you from?”

“Massachusetts.”

“Yikes. We don’t have a computer, so email‘s out of the question.”

“Pen pals! I’ve always wanted a pen pal! Hope you like stickers!” Mabel sang.

“Too bad there’s not a way for Norman to like— be in two places at once or something,” Soos said, stroking his chin, and Dipper gave a start.

“Uh, hey Norman, you should come check out this thing I just remembered that’s upstairs,” he spluttered, laughing nervously.

“But I probably have to—”

“It’ll only take a sec,” Dipper said, grabbing his arm and pulling him along. But they didn’t go upstairs— instead, Dipper ducked into Stan’s darkened office and shut the door behind him. Running over to a dilapidated copy machine, he checked it for ink and paper, then opened the top and waved Norman over.

“This is gonna sound really strange, but this machine can make copies of people. We copy you, the copy goes home with your family, we get to hang out. It’s perfect!”

“W-what? What about when I want to go home?”

“We’ll figure that out later, just climb on!”

“Uh… okay…” he answered, more than a little confused. Hesitantly, he climbed the rickety old thing and laid on the glass thinking this was probably the craziest thing he’d ever done. Dipper pressed the copy button, and the machine ground to life, an eerie green light sweeping up from Norman’s feet to the end of his rebellious hair. Heart pounding, he turned over to see a sheet of paper with a black-and-white copy of his back slide into the tray, and Dipper took it and laid it out on the floor. It rippled, then a figure rose like something out of a horror movie, black and gray toner giving way to the colors of flesh and clothing. The copy brushed dust from his hands, then turned to face the two.

“Hey Norman the Second,” Dipper smiled, and the Norman copy laughed.

“You should see your face right now,” he said to the original, who was staring with his mouth agape.

“You mean ‘my face’,” Dipper suggested, and they laughed again. Norman was simply too— he couldn’t think of a word to describe how he felt, actually.

“You okay?” his copy asked, in the same way he would have if one of his friends were troubled.

“This is just really weird,” he finally answered, cracking a bemused smile and hopping down from the copier.

“It’s been a really weird day,” his copy pointed out, and they nodded in unison.

“Okay, I’m thinking… Paper Norman goes out to distract your family, while Norman number one runs to the car and grabs his stuff. We have stuff you can borrow, but I bet you’ve got things you’ll need anyway. Sound like a plan?” Dipper thought aloud, and the two nodded. All three headed for the door, but Dipper suddenly froze and grabbed Paper Norman’s arm.

“I almost forgot— if you get wet, you’ll disintegrate! No rain, no water parks, not even a drink, got it?” he hissed urgently. Both Normans nodded, eyes wide even if only one was in danger. “Good. Let’s go.”

They snuck down the hall, then the paper clone waved farewell as he entered the gift shop. Dipper led Norman out the other door out back, and quickly dug his things out of a luckily unlocked car before running back in. Taking the items upstairs, Norman saw where he’d be staying— in the attic with the twins, amidst a jumble of stuff that hadn’t quite made it to the museum floor below. There were steps on the stairs, and the two turned to see a curious Mabel.

“What’s going on up here? Oh my gosh, Norman’s staying with us?!” she squealed, and crushed him in a bear hug. “How’d you convince his parents, huh?”

“Well, let’s just say they won’t even notice he’s gone,” Dipper smirked. There was a sound of car doors slamming, and he ran to a window, and Mabel pressed in beside him while Norman just watched from where he stood, wringing his hands. The Babcocks’ station wagon revved into gear, and the twins could see a small figure peering through one of the side windows, giving a thumbs-up before waving goodbye.

“It worked!” Dipper said under his breath, grinning broadly as he waved back. They watched until the car had vanished behind the trees, then turned back to face their friend-turned-guest. Mabel looked perplexed, and folded her arms.

“So if that was Norman in the car, then who’s this?” 

“Uh, remember Stan’s copier? The one that could copy people?” 

“No way! You copied Norman? That’s awesome!” she grinned, hugging her brother. “So wait, is this the real version or the paper one?” she asked, poking him in the stomach and making him wince. 

“I’m real!” he coughed, giving her a lopsided smile.

“Oh man, this is gonna be great. We’ve got so many stories to tell you, and you’ve gotta tell us about all these ghosts you’ve seen,” Dipper said, his excitement barely contained.

“Well, where do you want me to start?” Norman asked, shrugging.

“Tell us the craziest ghost story ya got!” Mabel demanded with a grin, and he blinked.

“Well, I know some pretty strange ghosts… but… I’ve got one story that definitely tops them all,” he smiled softly. “You might want to sit down, it’s kinda long. Some of it’s sad, but it has a good ending, I promise.”

Mystery Kids: Beginnings- Part 3

Here's the next part! It's a little short compared to some of the others, but hopefully it's a good read regardless.

(Also as the author I'm not so good at this, but if any of you need or can think of some trigger warnings I should tag this as that would be extremely helpful! Thank you!)

Gideon was trying to keep a level head. That psychic kid had turned out to be too smart for his own good. So maybe he couldn’t take the Shack just yet, but things were still in his favor. Stan would be busy all day, and their simpleton handyman was occupied with four flats and a dead battery. He’d check back later and hopefully find one fried psychic and a boy witch ready to do his bidding. Now, he had other things to take care of—two things, in particular.

 -------- 

Raz was taking a breather on one of the trees that had made up the forest. The ground had broken apart a while ago and scattered in all directions, most not horizontal, and hung over a misty green abyss. Climbing into the trees still imbedded in the blocks of earth was the only way ahead, but he tapped into his lifetime of balancing acts and easily scaled and vaulted through the shattered forest. At least he could see what looked like a town ahead, so standing again he leapt onto the next trunk, then the one below, then up to the next one before leaping off and using his levitation ball to float down to solid footing at last. With a couple more jumps across the void, he was on the outskirts.

Maybe he'd accidentally landed in the mind of a mortician, or a crypt keeper. Not a kid who looked about his age… then again, apparently he could talk to ghosts. Maybe death and dealing with it was just Norman’s thing. The buildings were all somber gray rock formed into headstones or stately gothic mausoleums, and what was apparently a theater even had an obelisk marquee. They all seemed to stick out at odd angles, and the dull green grass around them was unkempt. Besides an occasional dull rumble like distant thunder and his own footsteps, there was no sound. It was almost… peaceful. Not what he’d been expecting at all with so much external turmoil. But if there was a town, there were usually people…

A scream rang out from a side alley, and Raz zeroed in on it, running just in time to see something ethereal get stamped out by a swarm of censors— those obnoxious little businessman-looking fellows. At least they always looked that way to him; Sasha had once explained it all depended on his perception of someone else’s thoughts, and any variation he saw was a reflection of the censors’ actual appearance. They were part of a healthy mind, acting as antibodies and helping to keep out thought patterns that didn’t belong. This included him, but he’d never seen them attack other parts of their own environment.

He snuck closer, watching the group mill about aimlessly now that they saw nothing to attack, and realized that with their ragged clothes and exposed brains, they were supposed to be zombies. Despite the fitting resemblance, they should have faded now that their job was done, so why were they still hanging around? A flicker of movement caught his eye, and what he could only describe as a ghost tried to dart across the street. With a resounding chorus of ‘no’, the censors charged, and the spirit shrieked as it was set upon and mercilessly beaten out of existence. Raz almost felt sick; censors were part of a normal psyche, but these ones were… wrong.

His levitation ball popped up under his feet, and gathering speed he bowled through the goons, obliterating several and damaging the rest, which he finished off with a couple of open-handed strikes. Sweeping the street to make sure he’d really gotten them all, he noticed another ghost waving him into one of the gravestone buildings and hurried in before more enemies showed up.

The interior contrasted sharply with the landscape outside. Here, it was brightly lit in theatrical colors, and Raz had to blink to let his eyes adjust. An ethereal green middle-aged aviator woman sporting short black hair indicated a seat while she peeked out the door one last time, then withdrew and bolted it. Raz didn’t want to be impolite even if he was feeling a little pressed for time, so he sat, thinking maybe she could tell him what was going on.

“We’re so glad you’re here,” she said, giving a warm smile as she turned to face him, and he got a fine view of where a tree branch had run her through and still jutted out. He swallowed nervously, trying hard not to stare. These were probably memories of ghosts Norman actually knew.

“Yeah, what’s going on out there?” he asked, trying to focus on the task at hand, and the spirit sighed.

“Madness. We can’t get out, haven’t been able to for about two days now. If you try, you’re…”

“Beaten to… uh, not-death?”

“Yep. But you gave those things such a pummeling! I know you’re our ticket to freedom,” she said confidently, and he felt a little better.

“So, are you guys like… good memories then? ‘Cause most kids don’t have good memories of dead people.”

“You’re a sharp one!” she hooted. “For a long time, we were Norman’s only semblance of friends.”

“Oh geez,” Raz gasped. “What about the friends he has now? He’s gotta have a couple, right?”

“They were some of the first to go,” the aviator replied sadly. “Hadn’t been here as long, easier to kick out, you know? Everything else fell apart real quick after that.”

“Hm. Any idea how it all got started? I mean, Norman wasn’t always like this, was he?”

The aviator shook her head, looking somber. “He was always a sweetheart, but now…”

“I see. Thanks for the info. I promise everything’s gonna be back to normal soon,” he said firmly, standing, and the lady saluted as he headed out before bolting the door behind him. No more censors had shown up so he took a moment to get his bearings. If all these buildings were houses for ghosts…. He chuckled to himself, glad he’d found some humor in a grim situation.

It was a ghost town.

With that bit of levity to keep him going, he started off once more down the cobblestone road, eventually coming to the other side of town. It felt like it should have been bigger, but maybe that was one of the differences between an adult and child mind— adults had a lot more experience to incorporate into their mental worlds, whereas a kid was still growing. At least that meant things would probably be easier—less ground to cover. What lay ahead of him now was a sort of no-man’s land, barren black earth punctuated by broken wrought iron fencing and shattered tombstones. Beyond that, more floating islands, one particularly big one ruled by a sprawling, twisted leafless oak, and off in the distance what looked like a stereotypical haunted house.

Crossing the wasteland, he could make out what looked like a figure under the tree, and upped his pace. It wasn’t a censor, and it wasn’t a ghost either—maybe it was Norman’s mental impression of himself. Small stature, gravity-defying hair—seemed to fit the bill, though he looked more gaunt here than in the real world. He appeared to be contemplating the tree, and didn’t notice Raz approach until he was only a few yards away, almost to where the ground began to break up again.

“Norman!” Raz waved, but the ground shuddered and he froze, instantly cautious.

“Leave me alone.”

“Hey! You agreed to let me in. I’m just here to help!” he retorted, taking a slow step forward with hands outspread. He could see Norman’s mental projection looked just as worn out as his real self, and felt sorry for him.

“…No one can help me…”

“Except for me! Look, this is all in your head, and—” Raz was cut off as the ground vibrated again, and he realized he probably couldn’t have picked a poorer choice of words, even if he had been about to explain this was his element.

“That’s right! Everyone thinks I’m crazy! They don‘t know… they don‘t know what I…”

The ground split under Raz's feet, a livid green light blinding him as it burst through the dry soil. A sepulchral moan rose through the air, and a huge chasm appeared beneath him. He managed to latch onto the edge and started to clamber up, but the dry soil crumbled in his hands, sending him sliding backwards. A mass of rotting arms reached up, bony fingers wreathed in green flame curled around him, pulled him in, the reek of death, choking on dust—then nothing.

When Raz came to, he was in a dark room. Well, he presumed it was a room. The floor felt smooth, and it creaked when he moved, like wood. His head pounded, and he coughed, the stench of decay still in his nose. His energy felt disorganized, though that was nothing a little concentration couldn’t resolve, but it was like he‘d been put through a wringer. Standing, he tried to make out anything in the darkness beyond, and took a step forward.

A spotlight snapped on and suddenly he was on a cheap school stage, the air loaded with jeers and mocking laughter. Cries of ‘freak’ and ‘creep’ and worse obscenities came relentlessly at him from all sides. He tried yelling back, launched his own insults, but the voices only came back louder, more brutal, and he shrank back under the verbal assault. Some were really starting to hurt…. Searching the darkness for anything, he saw the glow of an exit sign and ran for it, the cacophony of voices ringing in his ears. The doors burst open under his hand, and he found himself in a school hallway—filled with school kid zombies.

They all slowly turned to stare at the newcomer, blank yellowed eyes lolling in their sockets, and step by wobbling step, they began making for him. Granted, they all looked like people with bad special effects makeup, but when a nearby one seized his wrist and began crushing it, he knew they meant business. Twisting free, Raz ducked back into the auditorium, but was met with the same wall of put-downs as before. Frowning, he slid back into the hall, once again surrounded by zombies, and went all out on them—a flurry of punches and psi-blasts that would have quickly torn through anything he’d faced so far. He cleared his little area and dusted off his hands proudly, the bits of zombie scattered around the floor slowly dissolving back into the energy they were supposed to be.

But then a huge, groaning mob rounded the corner, attracted by the noise and movement, and more stumbled out from the lockers that lined the walls. Raz swallowed hard, his back to the door. Was there another way through? No, only the crooked, undead-filled hall ahead, and he was out of space. They enclosed him, grabbing at his clothes and face, catching his limbs and suffocating his attempts to move. He grunted as one wrenched his arm painfully, then another latched onto his other shoulder with a vice-like hand, and more were pressing in to get a piece of him. He could feel his energy failing by the second, and knew he wouldn’t last under this siege unless he did something.

Thinking fast, he attacked to scatter the zombies and threw a shield up, forcing the goons to release their hold and giving him a chance to breathe. He held it for a while, doing his best to study the situation and see what he might be able to use. Unable to touch him, the zombies gave up and went back to shuffling down the halls. Now that was interesting…. Dropping the shield, he took a few steps and put it back up. It worked, but at this rate it’d take him forever to get out of here, and he’d eventually get tired of generating the shield—what then? Maybe….

He let the forcefield dissipate and switched to invisibility. One of the zombies who’d been watching him glanced around in confusion, paused… then shrugged and went back to its shambling un-life. He chuckled under his breath, then began running down the hall, dodging the undead kids as best he could before he wore his ability to cloak himself out. There was a room to his right, and he slipped in, expecting another assault on his ears, but the stained and peeling room was mercifully empty of anything but broken desks and chairs—the typical post-apocalyptic look. So this was how it was going to work. Well, he’d done this kind of thing before, and he could do it again.

Raz gradually made his way through the hellish school, dodging zombies and hopping from one dilapidated classroom to the next. The halls were getting narrower, more claustrophobic, and it was taking longer to edge around each hostile. Where he was now, he could see a small offshoot that looked like the way out. At the very least nothing was coming in or out of it, and that seemed promising. Steeling himself one last time, he cloaked himself and darted out of the classroom, edging around one zombie, then another. But a particularly broad and ponderous zombie stumbled into his path just as he made for the last few feet, forcing him to wait. Raz could only hold his breath as the mass of putrefying flesh ambled by, feeling his mind wearing out from staying invisible for too long. He wished he was good at it like some of his fellow psychic summer campers had been; sure, he was something of a prodigy, but that didn’t mean there weren’t things he needed to work on. Finally the path seemed clear, but his invisibility was also at an end.

A cluster of zombies gawked at him, and one raised a limp arm to point at him. It gurgled, and every other stiff in the hall turned to stare, including the large zombie Raz had nearly avoided. A putrid hand connected with his face, interrupting his attempt to put up a shield, and he was slammed against the lockers and allowed to fall to the grimy tile. The zombies laughed—well, gasped, croaked, sobbed—whatever stood in for laughter when you were dead and rotting. Then the rest attacked.

Raz finally crawled into the hall minus a couple layers of his astral energy and feeling drained. If this was anything close to what public schools were like, he was glad he’d never gone to one. He sat for a while limply propped against the wall, panting and trying to give his mind a break before rising again to continue. It was dark, but vacant and a welcome rest even if he had to feel his way along the walls. There was a corner, then another one, a twist, a long straight bit—but it didn’t seem to end. Grumbling, he kept going. At least there wasn’t anything he had to fight down here. All the same, he hoped it wasn’t a dead end either, for all the obvious reasons. He was about to give up and head back when his hand met a pole, and that pole turned into the rail of a ladder. Finally! He took to it eagerly, but again, it seemed to go on forever. No light, no end—what kind of mindscape was this?

His head knocked against a ceiling, and he rubbed it reflexively as he tried to figure out if he’d missed something. It didn’t give when he pushed his hand against it, but it’d sounded like wood when he’d hit it. He gave it an experimental rap, and sure enough, it was wood. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. If zombies were the theme here…

A telekinetic hand burst through the earth, and Raz hoisted himself up through the hole, glad to be breathing fresh air at last. Just as he had suspected, he’d emerged in a graveyard outside of town. Brushing dirt from his jacket, he shook his head, bemused. This Norman kid… what to do with him? Well, besides finish helping him of course. Massaging his twisted arm, he set off again, making for the no-man’s land, the tree, and the house where Norman was almost certainly hiding.

Raz had no patience for the new swarm of censors that had cropped up. They were now in the process of attacking the houses themselves, with varying degrees of success. With a sinking feeling, he realized the aviator lady’s door had been broken in…. He plowed through the main body of censors on his levitation ball and set the rest on fire, watching them scatter in a panic with his arms folded, grimly satisfied. Chances were these memories were only being suppressed and not forgotten outright, but regardless he was going to make sure the rest were safe.

Reaching the no-man’s land, he noted the blackened scar left by the eruption earlier and cautiously inched by it, not wishing to repeat his experience, then ran the rest of the way to the edge. Hopping the gaps, he came to the weathered oak and saw something engraved in the bark. A few phrases had been scratched out, and something else carved in crudely below it: a mandate to Norman telling him to forget he’d ever trusted anyone, that he’d ever had friends, that he was ever anything more than a freak.

“So that’s where all that came from…. Man, now I really want to know how all this happened.” Raz thought aloud. He ran his hands over the gouged-in words, wondering how to get rid of them. The tips of his fingers tingled, detecting a different person’s energy in the words, and he started to piece together what might have happened to Norman to make him like this. Probably with a psitanium-enhanced round of hypnosis, someone else had set the mandate into his subconscious and let the psychoactive mineral do the rest—just like in True Psychic Tales #253. It was insidious and brilliant; if that kid from earlier really was responsible, he was dealing with something even worse than he’d assumed. And if others were in danger, he didn’t have any time to spare.

Sitting on one of the exposed roots, he concentrated. Telepathy was hard enough, but trying to do it from someone else’s mind was especially difficult, and he wasn’t sure he could just summon Cruller’s projection like he had in times past. Besides, Sasha probably had a better idea of what to do about ingrained hypnosis. Tuning out distant thundering, he homed in on his mentor’s presence and managed to establish a connection.

“Razputin, you’re very faint,” the scientist finally responded after what felt like hours. “What’s happening?”

“This kid was hypnotized, and I need to get rid of the suggestion. It’s what made him go crazy.”

“Hmm. That’s not how hypnosis works, it doesn’t alter minds so drastically.”

“Yeah, but psitanium does.”

“True. Does the suggestion look like an object you can destroy? Sometimes that’s how they manifest.”

“It’s carved into a really big tree. I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t destroy that.”

“No, that definitely sounds bad. It will probably be up to him to heal that damage. Do you think you’ve made any progress?”

“Hard to say. I got dragged underground and mauled by a bunch of kid zombies.”

“…Hmm. Well, you may make a breakthrough yet. Keep trying, and remember to be careful. Don‘t do anything rash.”

“Yeah, got it.” Raz answered, and let the connection fade. He’d leave the tree for now then, and focus on what he could do. Sighing, he stood and faced the house looming in the distance. It was time to talk to Norman.

Mystery Kids: Beginnings- Part 5

And here we come to one of the first parts I changed quite a bit when I decided to rewrite most of the middle; though the story's largely the same, how it's told is a little bit different. Enjoy! ;3

There was a brown truck in the parking lot when Raz finally reached the Mystery Shack, and the door was open. Was someone else trying to rob the place now? He quickened his pace, then noticed the bumper stickers on the vehicle-- all from the Shack. An employee then, and probably someone who could help. Resting the siblings against the side of the building, he knocked on the doorframe before entering. A large man was tidying up the gift shop, and his worried expression changed to surprise when Raz walked in.

“Hey kid, sorry, but we’re not open. I think we got attacked by some kinda animal, like a Bigfoot maybe. Come back later dude,” he said, waving him off and looking apologetic.

“More like a kid named Gideon,” Raz said, and the man looked even more concerned. “Don’t worry, I took care of him. Name’s Raz.” He held out his hand, and the man shook it.

“Soos. So what happened? If Gideon was here, have you seen a couple of twins around? They’re like big-time enemies. I’m supposed to be watching the kids for Mr. Pines, but only one’s upstairs.”

“That’s why I’m here. Gideon hypnotized them, and I wanted to be somewhere safe to snap them out of it.”

“Gideon. And dude, no offense, but you’re like—ten. Don’t you think you should leave it to a professional?”

“Eleven, actually. And sir, I happen to be a professional.” Raz smiled, and showed his official badge as he explained everything. Soos seemed to hang on his every word, made him prove he was psychic by reading his mind and bending a spoon, then helped carry Mabel and Dipper up to their beds. It was obvious he was deeply attached to the two, and he even passed a fretful glace in Norman’s direction.

“Anything else I can do to help?”

“Keep Gideon away from here. I may have stuck him on his roof, but he figured out how to use psitanium as a WMD—a weapon of mental destruction,” Raz instructed, leaving out the part about how WMDs had been a major arc in True Psychic Tales issues 68 through 75. “I think finding a way down probably won’t be too hard for him.”

“Understood. These dudes… they’re gonna be okay, right? They were seriously not good the last few days.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll get them back—I promise,” he said resolutely. Soos nodded, then left to continue cleaning up and guarding the Shack.

“Razputin darling? Is everything alright?” Milla suddenly chimed, and Raz homed in on her presence.

“So far so good, Agent Vodello. I managed to help the first kid, he’s resting now. I also got the psitanium back, but there’s two more kids who need my help.”

“Oh no, are they as bad as the first?”

“Almost. But it turns out he’s a medium and had more going on than just psitanium poisoning. But the girl’s gone to her happy place, and her brother… I think he’s catatonic.”

“Okay, just be careful sweetie. I’ll update the others, you go do what you have to.”

“So I’m allowed to help these guys too?”

“Isn’t that what we agreed?” she replied, a hint of teasing in her voice.

“Awesome—I mean, good.”

Milla laughed, then let him go. He knew she would have wanted him to help regardless of the rules; she’d always had a soft spot for helping children and couldn’t bear their suffering. But now he had to decide who needed his help most immediately. He could at least ask Mabel if he was welcome in her mind, but catatonia was never a good thing. Maybe that feedback loop could actually be helpful here. Focusing on his telepathy, he felt out who was generating what. He was met by a wall of pain, and recoiled from the sudden onslaught. But once he plowed through that, he found an odd mix—determination, fear, worry, paranoia. Even his own concern was being bounced back at him now.

“So that’s what’s going on,” he muttered aloud, breaking his connection. Since psitanium stimulated the parts of the brain responsible for psychic abilities, it wasn’t uncommon that besides inflicting any variety of mental traumas it could awaken certain powers. The problem was, because these abilities weren’t natural, they were imperfect and uncontrolled. Mabel was taking in the emotions of anyone around her, and without the mental abilities to filter it out had become overwhelmed. Dissociating herself from the real world was a defense mechanism, and possibly meant she’d be relatively easy to help.

Without wasting another moment, Raz got to work. Compared to Norman’s, Mabel’s mental walls were in good shape, but he still slipped past the invisible barriers with ease. His feet sank into some kind of soft ground, and as the world swam into view it was obvious why. He was standing on some kind of hill made entirely of purple yarn, and more in other colors poked out of the one thing that immediately gave him pause—the rest of the landscape was flooded by a bright magenta ocean. In fact, everything was in vibrant colors that almost didn’t work together, including the sky— which was an impossible turquoise that faded to a light green near the horizon. Way out in the distance he could see more hills, and the largest was dominated by a castle straight from a fairy tale. And behind him… was the reason he was here. A huge indigo thunderhead filled the sky, pale pink lightning flickering within it as bands of magenta rain swept down from its leading edge.

“Guess that explains where all the water is from,” Raz said to himself, scratching his head. “Now I just have to figure out how to cross it…”

He looked around carefully and even managed to hop to the next couple of hills peeking out of the ocean, but there was nothing here except yarn and he was pretty sure he couldn’t do much with that. The only other thing he could think to do was call out and see if that got a reaction, but for all its color the land seemed devoid of life. At a loss but unwilling to bail, he sat on the cushiony ground and glared at the ocean, wracking his brain for some kind of solution.

As he watched, a wake rose and cut through the choppy waves, swirling magenta split by a curved blue fin. Warily Raz stood and backed away from the edge as the fin circled the island, a dark form cruising just below the surface before sinking back into the depths. Leaning carefully, he scanned the water’s surface and frowned. At least he knew there was something here after all, but it’d be really nice to know if it was friendly or not.

“Hello?” he said tentatively, putting his hands on his hips. Something round and blue burst above the surface right in front of him and squirted water at him, and he realized it was a dolphin trilling at him from the bank. “Oh. Hey there. Were you… stalking me?”

The dolphin uttered an offended squeak, then cleared its throat and spoke. “No, no! Now why would you say something like that?”

“Well, just how you circled this little island… it was kinda stalker-ish. Anyway, what’s going on in here? I came in to investigate, but I’m sorta lost already.”

“Oh man, it’s been bonkers,” the dolphin moaned, sinking so his mouth was below water and blew bubbles before rising again. “Things were all fine and dandy until maybe a few hours ago. Maybe minutes. I dunno, never could tell time. Anyway, next thing ya know it’s raining cats and dogs, and not literally either, that would’ve been awesome. It flooded the whole place and now everyone’s taking shelter in the castle.”

“Wow, it flooded everything that quickly?” Raz said, looking back at the storm.

“Yep. This little hill you’re standing on?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s a tree.”

“Whoa,” Raz gasped, looking at his surroundings with new eyes. “Guess I better help before that new storm moves in. Can I ask you a favor, uh…”

“Aoshima.”

“Aoshima? I need to get to the castle, but I can’t swim. Could you maybe find a boat or something that’ll take me?”

“I’ll carry you, no problem! I was headed out to take that sucker on, but they could definitely use some help at the castle, and it’s not that far. Climb on,” the dolphin instructed, rising to expose his back.

“Oh, um, thing is, I can’t really go in deep water at all,” Raz explained nervously. It wasn’t something he liked to bring up.

“Who said we’d be swimming?” Aoshima said with a wink. “Now climb aboard, I’ve got an appointment with a hurricane. I’ve gotta introduce it to the Knuckle Twins.”

With a dangerous grin, Aoshima pulled a pair of heavily-muscled arms out of the water and clenched his fists eagerly, making mock punches at the cloud looming on the horizon. Raz blinked, shook his head, then simply shrugged and hopped onto the—could he really call it a dolphin if it had big muscleman arms? It probably didn’t matter. He situated himself just behind Aoshima’s dorsal fin and gave his ride a thumbs-up. Aoshima nodded, and with a mighty flick of his tail leapt free of the ocean, his arms extended Superman-style. The yarn island was left behind as they ascended, and Raz wondered if this was what being a master levitator was like.

Flying made for a short trip, and they splashed down just in front of the road leading to the castle gate. Raz leaped onto the multicolored popsicle-stick thoroughfare and bid Aoshima farewell; the imaginary creature saluted him before taking off again, headed directly for the storm. Raz returned the salute before facing his own end of the fight—the most extravagantly pink yet formidable stronghold he’d ever encountered. He contemplated scaling the glitter-encrusted walls, but since asking for help had worked pretty well so far, it didn’t hurt to try again.

“Hello? Gatekeeper?” he called, and was startled when the door ground open as soon as he spoke up. A white unicorn with a mane that cycled through the rainbow and matching dappled spots along its flank poked its head through the gap and scrutinized him. Apparently satisfied with what it saw, it opened the door wider and beckoned him in with a hoof.

“Thanks. Can you tell me where I can find Mabel? I need to talk to her,” Raz asked once the equine had closed and locked the gates. The unicorn gave him a sidelong glance, then tossed its head and pointed across the grounds to the keep with its horn before retreating into the gatehouse-turned-stable.

“Huh. I guess not everything talks in here after all. At least he was still helpful,” Raz said to himself with a shrug, and started off through the grounds.

The town within the walls was quaint, with small houses lining each street and a center square consisting of a tiny park. It wasn’t exactly his style, but it was pleasant nevertheless, and he already had a good sense about the sort of person Mabel was just based on his encounters so far. But things were clearly amiss; though he could tell they were houses, each one was cloaked in a heavy knit cozy that made entry impossible. What he presumed were shops had cutesy stickers saying ‘sorry, we’re closed!’ pasted on their exteriors, and he realized even the flowers lining the streets were just paper cut-outs. Much like Norman’s mind the streets were abandoned, but at least this time there weren’t any malfunctioning censors to worry about. He made his way through town without a hitch, and soon the houses gave way to what could be considered the castle proper. The door to the keep was set into a deep vaulted portico, and as he approached two knights stepped out from niches carved into the glimmering stone walls, their lances crossed.

“No passing!”

“I also say no passing!”

Raz eyed them skeptically. “Look, I don’t want to have to hurt you. I’m here to help, I promise.”

“We have orders of the most rad importance to let no one through!” one of the knights replied, and the other nodded emphatically, dropping his lance and scrambling to pick it up again to point at Raz’s head.

“Yes! Retreat, or we will be forced to use our weapons of ultimate power!”

“Oh boy.” Raz rolled his eyes, not particularly intimidated by the bumbling knights. “Look, I’m a Psychonaut, an authority figure. I’m here to make sure Mabel’s okay.”

“Well we are the authority dudes around here! If you don’t leave, we will be forced to use—” the knight paused to draw a keytar from his back—“the power of music!”

“Excellent intro, bro,” his partner commented, and they bumped fists.

 “Yeah, great, but in case you haven’t noticed, storm’s moving in,” Raz said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder at the looming clouds. “If we’re gonna go, make it quick.”

“Whoa, dude’s hardcore. Okay, ready Craz?” the knight asked, putting his lance aside and holding his keytar at the ready.

“Always, Zyler!” the other replied, rolling out a synth drum kit from the niche and sticks from his scabbard. Raz blinked incredulously as they started to play a cheesy melody, entirely serious about the showdown. The power of this music was entirely underwhelming, and he wondered if he could simply sneak by. The two certainly seemed oblivious enough for it to work, but the drum kit blocked most of the entrance and made it risky. Maybe they’d just wear themselves out instead.

“It’s not working!” Zyler cried, frantic.

“Play harder!” Craz replied, ramping up the tempo, and his partner hurried to match his pace. Raz simply waited, tapping his foot impatiently until Zyler fumbled his instrument, gauntlet-covered hands too cumbersome to keep up anymore.

“I can’t believe it… not even the power of music can beat this guy…” Craz uttered, arms slack.

“Do you realize what this means?” his partner said fearfully, and without warning the two suddenly clutched to one another.

“We’re doomed!”

“Oh come on!” Raz sighed. “You’re only doomed if that storm gets here and floods the place, not because your music was terrible.”

“Zyler, you know what I just realized?”

“What bro?”

“The dude we just lost to? He’s got a free pass.”

“Whoa, you’re totally right!”

“Huh?” Raz looked at each of them skeptically.

“Your sweater, dude! It’s one hundred-percent Lady Mabelton approved,” Craz explained, removing his helmet and kneeling to point at the psychic’s garment. Raz hadn’t noticed anything, but now that he looked, he was wearing a different sweater under his jacket— it was still green, but had subtler stripes and a cutesy brain with a little smiley face on the front surrounded by the phrase ‘Think Big!’ in multicolored bubble letters stitched onto it. Blinking, he gave Craz a questioning look.

“These helmets are pretty not-rad in the vision department, so we didn’t see your pass,” Zyler explained, following his partner’s example and taking his off.

“So… this thing’s kinda like a passport?” Raz asked, tugging at the chunky yarn.

“Basically. You get one, the lady in charge must think you’re okay,” Craz replied, nodding.

“That would’ve been nice to know before you tried attacking me with bad music,” he said, raising a brow at the would-be knights, who both looked aside. “So… did anyone else try to get in here before me?”

“Yes!” Zyler quickly responded, unusually fierce.

“That dude definitely did not have a sweater either. We found him sneaking around the castle doing stuff,” Craz added, looking disgusted, and Zyler nodded quickly.

“He wasn't impervious to the power of music though,” he said, and the two high-fived.

“Good to know you guys kicked him out,” Raz said approvingly, “but looks like he still managed to mess with things. Listen, I need to talk to Mabel—”

“Lady Mabelton,” Zyler corrected.

“…Lady Mabelton, and find out what’s going on. Can you tell me where she is?”

“Well…” Craz trailed, exchanging looks with his friend.

“She doesn't exactly want to see anyone right now. That’s why we’re guarding the door,” Zyler answered. “We know you’ve got a free pass and stuff, and that’s totally rad, but she’s pretty busy right now and shouldn’t be disturbed.”

“But this is urgent, it—it’ll affect the whole kingdom, and I’m sure the lady cares about her subjects’ welfare, right?” Raz reasoned, and the two scratched their heads.

“Totally,” they agreed in unison.

“So let me in already!”

“Dude makes a good argument,” Craz commented, and his partner nodded. They set their instruments down and pulled the heavy door open to let him pass, and Raz saluted them as he headed in at last.

“Finally,” he muttered as the door shut behind him. He wished the musical showdown had been a real fight, but maybe that was yet to come, and at least those two weren’t entirely useless. If they’d managed to chase Gideon off, maybe things weren’t so dire. For now he’d focus on finding Mabel and getting rid of whatever outside influences he could find.

But that was easier said than done. As he looked up, the keep interior only got more tangled and confusing, and the upper reaches faded into a warm pink haze. For anyone else, it might have been intimidating, but Raz rolled his shoulders and headed in, familiar enough with fairy tales to know that the damsel in distress was generally hidden away in the highest part of the castle.

A staircase ahead seemed to lead directly up, but then turned on its side halfway up and wound around until he was less than a third of the way up, and the walkway ahead spiraled and twisted down again, forcing Raz to reconsider how he was tackling this. At least he didn’t mind exploring, and the keep offered plenty in the way of rooms and galleries full of all the things Mabel loved. One door he found opened overlooking a dance floor, while another room held a petting zoo containing everything from the usual llamas and sheep to tigers, wombats, and even a narwhal. Upon opening, another room buried him in an avalanche of glitter and plastic gems; after struggling to sweep the mess up and shaking himself out, he took a breather. Sitting with his back against the door, he studied the upper reaches to see if he could figure out the right way up. With how much the place twisted around it was easy to lose track—and a crack of nearby thunder didn’t help.

“I hope Aoshima’s doing okay,” Raz mused as he stood and dusted himself off again. “Sounds like he didn’t have much luck fighting that storm off.”

“Nah, but he’s giving it his best shot,” a small voice piped up, and Raz looked down to see a pig dressed in a business suit by his leg.

“Uh… hey there.”

“Ah, you’ve got a pass. Alright, move along,” the pig said, waving him off with a hoof, and Raz made a connection.

“I get it! You’re a censor, aren’t you? I was wondering why I hadn’t seen any around.”

“Yeah, we've been pretty busy, as you can guess,” the pig snuffled, and Raz nodded.

“Yeah. I’m here to help with that. So as long as I have this sweater, we’re cool?”

“That’s how it works. Unless you go wrecking things or being generally mean to the lady. Then we have a problem,” the pig warned, narrowing its little black eyes dangerously.

“I don’t think we’ll have any problems,” Raz said, holding up his hands. “I am kinda having one right now though—how do I see Ma—Lady Mabelton? I can’t find the right way up.”

“Well, she doesn't exactly want to see anyone—”

“I got that, thanks.”

The pig blinked slowly at him, then continued. “As I was saying, she doesn’t want to see anyone, but she might make an exception since you’re wearing a pass. The tower staircase is straight ahead and to your right.”

“Huh. That was easier than I thought. I better get going though, thanks for the help.”

The pig censor waved him off and trotted away, turned, and walked straight up the wall. Raz shrugged and headed on himself, remembering the pig’s instruction and grateful everyone was so helpful in here. Sure enough, at the end of the hall there was a staircase, but as Raz followed its path upwards, things got complicated, twisting so that at some points he was walking upside down, or climbing on the bars of the railing like a ladder. It even looped through a wall and into a room where more pig censors were discussing dinner plans. But at least he was consistently moving up now, and the surroundings were becoming closer, cozier, with walls draped in yarn tapestries and floors carpeted with bright fake furs. It wasn’t like the claustrophobic confines of Norman’s zombie school though—more like an attempt at the close warmth of a hug. The final landing was barely big enough to take a few steps in before it dead-ended into thick knit walls. Raz looked up, grinned, and gave the weave a tug before eagerly taking to it.

One long and cramped climb later, he finally emerged in a round, comfortably sized and furnished room. A shelf with little knickknacks sat near the canopied bed, and a heap of pillows and stuffed animals was stacked to one side. Posters of teen stars plastered glittery purple walls, and strings of lights hung from the ceiling even though a fancy chandelier also lit the space. A variety of cats were scattered around, playing or sleeping, and one came to brush across his legs. Smiling at it, he took off his goggles and bent to pet it briefly. Looking up, he saw Mabel at a window, holding a stuffed tiger and looking over her land with concern. Thunder shook the tower, and as she glanced worriedly around she spotted him.

“Aw man, not another boy in here. Do you want to marry me too?” she huffed, frowning at him.

“Of course not! I actually happen to be taken already. Is that what all this is? Because Gideon wants to marry you?” Raz replied, gesturing to the yarn draped over the windows and storm outside.

“Kinda, but there’s this weird rock stuff he had too. He’s using it to drive us all bonkers…. He’s not still out there is he? I kicked his butt pretty hard, but it still feels all gross, like he’s still lurking like the Creepy McCreep-face he is,” Mabel explained, making a face as she sat on her bed and played with the stuffed tiger’s arms absentmindedly.

“I haven’t seen any signs of him. I guess he didn’t try to do the same thing to you he did to Norman—he didn’t want to talk to me at all, which made getting rid of Gideon’s hypnosis really hard. I’m glad you’re a lot more willing to chat,” Raz answered, walking over, and Mabel scooted over and patted the spot next to her.

“Norman’s quiet anyway,” Mabel said, smiling as she pulled out a thin moss-green scrapbook from under her pillow. “You just gotta know what to talk to him about, see? Zombies are always a favorite, but he’s surprisingly artistic too.”

“Heh, nice, though I gathered the bit about the zombies when I was in his head. So, any ideas how to get rid of the storm outside? Even if Gideon failed to hypnotize you, that’s still kind of a big deal.”

“I don’t feel hypnotized…. So that’s why I've been wanting to act like a chicken!”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure that’s not what Gideon would've done. You said something about him wanting to marry you right? It’d probably be something more like trying to make you fall in love with him. I read this exact thing in a comic book once,” Raz supposed, and they pondered together for a moment.

“Now that I think about it… he did say something about forgetting my dreams to live in his… super gross, am I right?”

“Whoa. You’re right, he is a creep.”

“I know right? He swore vengeance on our whole family and basically won’t leave us alone, ugh. And now he’s doing all this brainwashing stuff, and it’s really freaking me out,” she replied sadly, hugging the stuffed tiger close, and Raz patted her shoulder.

“Man, so he really is as bad as I thought. So… if he wanted you to forget your dreams… how would he do that exactly?”

“Hmm… well, I definitely haven’t been feeling that creative spark, you know? I just can’t think of anything, dreams or otherwise,” she sighed, frustrated, and Raz nodded thoughtfully.

“Creative spark? I mean, the place looks pretty creative to me…”

“Yeah, but that’s all old stuff I already came up with. I like thinking of new stuff, but I just…”

“Not happening, huh?”

Mabel shook her head, foot weakly scuffing the floor. Raz studied her downcast face before clenching his fist and standing.

“Mabel, I’m gonna help get your creativity back. I think Gideon did something to it, and that made everything else kinda fall apart. At least, it didn’t help. Any hints on how to get things going again?”

“Hmm…” Mabel scrunched up her face as she thought, but shook her head.

“That’s okay, I can figure it out. You just stay up here and try to relax,” he consoled her, then headed back to comb through the castle again. As he climbed down, he thought; if he hadn’t come across anything responsible for Mabel’s creativity or what could be blocking it on his way up… then maybe it was somewhere on the lower floors he hadn’t explored. At least heading down would be a lot easier—once he reached the main hall, he simply jumped over a bannister and dropped all the way to the first floor. Finding a set of stairs that lead down, he was disappointed to find a huge room with a wave pool in it. The other doors in the room only opened to closets of pool supplies—nothing helpful. Perplexed, Raz headed back up and stood in the foyer while he scrutinized the upper reaches, trying to think if he’d missed anything. But each room was so distinct he knew he’d been to every one.

“So if it’s not in the castle… then it’s gotta be outside,” he reasoned, turning to the doors and bracing himself for a storm.

Raz’s jaw fell as he stepped out into a very different mental world than the one he’d entered not long ago. Craz and Zyler’s niches were empty, and he hoped it was just because they’d retreated inside— staring out at the town in awe, he wouldn’t blame them.

The rain coming down in sheets may have been magenta, but it was still leaching all the color from the yarn cozies and eating away at the glitter-coated walls, whole layers of the stuff wrinkling and peeling away to expose dull gray stone beneath. The paper flowers had all but disintegrated, and deep puddles were starting to form already. If he didn’t hurry, all of this would become permanent, and he didn’t want to learn what it would mean for Mabel.

Summoning his levitation ball, he sped through town and did a full sweep of the grounds, even poking around the back side of the castle keep where he found a full garden, though all the blooms were closed and the butterflies he found were all huddled under leaves, trying to stay dry. Rolling back into town, he dropped his levitation and sat on the small bench in the park, frustrated and discouraged. Lighting cracked sharply overhead and he flinched, recalling his latest brush with electricity, but he wasn’t allowed to dwell on it as a large dolphin landed on top of him.

Of course it wasn't just any dolphin, it was Aoshima, and he was in rough shape. At first, Raz thought he was unconscious as he lifted him off with telekinesis, but he groaned as he was laid on the ground and his eyes fluttered open.

“I tried but… no power…” he rasped, tail flapping weakly.

“I bet you did great—but it is pretty hard to punch a cloud,” Raz consoled, patting the creature on the head. “Anyway, once I get Mabel’s creativity back I bet you’ll be back at full strength in no time. Only problem is… I can’t seem to find it.”

“So that’s why…” Aoshima said in a hushed tone, frowning. “Mabel believes in the power of love, but it’s her imagination that keeps this place running.”

               “So… it’s like a generator?”

“Almost,” the dolphin grunted, rolling over and heaving himself up on his arms. Raz watched curiously as he crawled over to the fountain at the center of the park, then waved the psychic over. Once Raz was standing at his side, Aoshima gripped the fountain and heaved, throwing his whole body into the effort but chittering angrily if Raz moved to help. The main drum separated from the fountain’s base, and with a roar, Aoshima tossed it aside to leave nothing but a dark hole and an exposed pipe. Panting from his efforts, the dolphin patted Raz on the head before he collapsed and faded away, returning to the raw mental energy he’d formed from.

Raz gaped sadly at where the dolphin had been moments ago, then balled his fists and leapt into the hole, grabbing the pipe and sliding down into the shadows. It went on for quite a while, and gave him time to think. Much like Norman, Mabel was having trouble getting over the Psitanium exposure, which seemed to hint that he’d almost arrived too late. The thought patterns that had arisen out of the mineral’s effects paired with whatever Gideon did were near a state of self-sustainment, and that was what made his mission so urgent. Regular people could trap themselves in similar situations all the time, but this had been given an extra nudge that made it far more serious than most people ever had to worry about… and Raz suspected that was one reason he’d been allowed to break the rules a little.

The pipe finally took a sharp turn into a wall, and a jar of fireflies set into a sconce lit a small landing just below. Dropping down, he surveyed his surroundings; the only hint there was more here than just void was the sound of dripping water echoing everywhere and a tiny square of light far below. Another pipe jutted out of the landing, vanishing into the darkness, and Raz tapped it with his foot. It clanged a little but seemed otherwise solid, so he took a few paces back and thought about how Lili had told him he’d make a great skateboarder once before taking a running start and leaping to give himself enough momentum to start sliding. As the landing went out of reach, Raz hoped he didn’t need that jar of fireflies to see.

After a lot of sliding around an apparently huge room and a few harrowing leaps of faith, the square of light had finally become a doorway and Raz was on the last pipe, headed straight for it. At least friction wasn't a big deal in the mental world; he was pretty sure he should've burned through his shoes by now—certainly in the real world that would be the case. Instead he just felt a little worn out from balancing for so long as he hopped off the pipe onto another simple landing just before the door. The yellow light reflected off several other pipes nearby, all of which seemed to connect to this room.

“Hmm… maybe it’s more like a boiler…” Raz wondered, and stepped in. His guess turned out to be wrong, not that it mattered much. The important thing was that this bizarre, whimsical machine sitting in the middle of the room wasn’t running. A huge sign surrounded by blinking lights on the front named it the Create-o-matic 3000, and there was a keypad and an output slot along with a maintenance panel beneath. He walked around it, ducking under pipes and tubing, but nothing on the outside looked broken or out of place. If only Sasha were here—he was the mechanically inclined out of everyone. Obviously the problem was on the inside.

Clambering through the maintenance panel, Raz was immediately enclosed by the ‘Create-o-matic’s nonsensical inner workings, and in some ways he was relieved to find they were completely made up. Knowledge of actual mechanical principles were useless in here: a team of hamsters turned wheels attached to gears that did nothing, tubes eventually connected to themselves, and Raz seemed to recall electricity had to be made by people—not one of those plasma ball things. But he knew Mabel wasn't one to care about how machines actually worked, just knew that her imagination was a silly one, and right now, it was missing a spark.

Digging through a tangle of wires, he found a missing spark wasn't the only problem. In fact, it was hardly the cause of Mabel’s distress. At the heart of the machine was a funnel where Raz figured on a normal day, Mabel could put ideas in to create new ones—fuel, basically. Only now it was clogged, piled high with merchandise that all featured Gideon’s face.

“Ugh, could this guy get any more selfish?” Raz sneered, pulling a plush of the kid out and examining it with disdain before sticking it in his bag, figuring Mabel would want to see the cause of the problem. Then, focusing on the pile of junk, he thought of the most satisfying way to get rid of it.

The heap burst into tall orange flames, quickly reducing into ash. The machine shuddered, and for a moment Raz wondered if he was safe—he could hear something whining as it warmed up, and the hamsters squeaked as they began running even faster. He hurried out and shut the maintenance hatch just as the Create-o-matic started up, back at full power. Raz pumped his fist and turned to head out of the room only to recall getting out the way he’d come would be impossible, and frowned. Considering his luck before though, simply asking for help just might work.

“Uh, hello? Mabel? I could use a way out of here…” he called, voice echoing around the room as he waited for something to happen.

A giant bubble squeezed out of the doorway behind him, its surface swirling with prismatic color, and wrapped around him. Then it floated up with him inside, and he chuckled while it carried him up through the dark room and out. The storm still loomed overhead, but the rain had slowed to a light sprinkle. He expected the bubble to drop him off in the park, but it kept going, all the way up to the castle tower where Mabel waited on a balcony wearing an eager look.

“My spark’s back! What did you do?” she asked as the bubble landed and burst in a puff of confetti.

“I found this machine clogged with Gideon stuff,” Raz replied, pulling the plush out of his bag, and Mabel recoiled, hissing like a cat.

“Evil! Get that thing out of here!”

“With pleasure. Wanna throw it for me?” he said, holding the loathsome thing out. Mabel took it and hurled the plush as hard as she could, sending it high over the castle. Taking aim, Raz hit it with a psi-blast, and the Gideon plush exploded in a cloud of stuffing and bubbling turquoise energy that evaporated—Gideon’s hypnosis was gone entirely.

“That was awesome!” Mabel cried, tackling him into a hug. “I feel almost one hundred percent me again! Now we just gotta get rid of this storm cloud…”

“Yeah… Aoshima tried to fight it but didn't have much luck. He actually… disappeared trying to help me.”

“Aw, whaaat? We've gotta fix that right away!”

The armed dolphin was instantly beside her on the balcony, and they hugged briefly before turning to face the storm again. Raz was glad to see things could be rectified so quickly— that cloud was probably no match for Mabel at full imaginative capabilities.

“So punching didn't work, huh?” she asked her animal friend, and he nodded severely.

“Nope. Not even a full assault.”

“Hmm… maybe we could blow it away, with like a hairdryer or fan or something,” Mabel wondered.

“I think we’re gonna need something really big and powerful—like really big,” Raz input, and the others nodded.

“Definitely. Umm… I've got it!” Mabel said, grinning broadly.

A shrill roar echoed through the sky, and a shadow passed overhead. Raz looked up to see an enormous dragon, but of course, this was no typical fire-breathing behemoth. Its body was shaped like a hairdryer, with a short, rounded head that blended smoothly into its neck and large circular vents on its shoulders; even its tail tapered into a plug. Coated in gleaming pink plastic scales, it soared on purple wings and gnashed jagged, almost cartoony teeth at the indigo cloud.

“What are you waiting for, Bernadine?! Sic ‘em!” Mabel shouted, and her dragon roared again as it flew at the nebulous menace and unleashed a stream of hot, dry air. The cloud withered under the blast, whole tracts of vapor dissipating as Bernadine systematically swept through until all that was left were a few pathetic puffs, and those evaporated on their own. The trio on the balcony cheered as the dragon gave a victorious bellow, then looped around to join them.

“Excellent work, Bernie. Take five. Actually, you too Aoshima, you’ve worked really hard today. Gold stars for both of you,” Mabel said, patting a gold star sticker on each of their noses and waving her creatures off. They nodded and soared off together, and the two watched them vanish into the sky.

“So… feeling better?” Raz asked, and found his feet leaving the ground as Mabel squeezed him in a bear hug.

“So much! Creepy ‘I-might-actually-love-Gideon’ thoughts are gone and the muse is back! I’m gonna make so much stuff now, it’ll be great.”

“Awesome. Well, I’m off to help your brother. Let me know if you need anything,” Raz said, but paused as Mabel frowned.

“I can’t believe I forgot about my brother… he’s in trouble too!” she cried, grabbling him by the shoulders and shaking him violently. “We’ve gotta save him Raz!”

“I know, don’t worry. You just rest,” he managed to say through being rattled around, and she seemed to calm down.

“Okay. It’s just, Gideon hypnotized him first, and I could feel what happened to him the whole time. He’s always been kind of paranoid, but Gideon made it like, a gazillion times worse, and the rock stuff was already giving him a killer headache…. I don’t want him to be stuck like that,” she explained sadly, twisting a bit of hair in her hands.

“I could kinda tell that’s what was going on… but don’t worry, I’ve helped people in a lot worse shape. He shouldn’t be too bad,” Raz replied with a smile.

“I hope so…” Mabel trailed, biting her lip.

“C’mon, we just got over being sad. Once I get your brother fixed up, I promise we’ll all go kick Gideon’s real-world butt, okay?”

“Oh yeah,” Mabel giggled, brightening at the prospect. “Sorry, it’s just, he’s my twin. I can’t help but worry about him sometimes. Thanks Raz.”

He returned her smile, then let his presence in her mind fade. Stretching, he pulled the goggles off for a moment and let his eyes adjust to a world that wasn’t full of neon color. Mabel’s mental world reminded him a lot of Milla’s, and for a moment he wondered how the two would get along if they ever met—famously, no doubt. He’d have to introduce them when this was all over. At least he seemed to be getting close; turning to Dipper, he realized the room felt quieter—the empathy loop had broken at last. There was just one more thing to do and then Gideon would get what he deserved. Raz cracked his knuckles and put his goggles on for what would hopefully be the last time today, and got to work.

--------

Norman woke, parched and a little dizzy. He was still exhausted, but at least the sensation of his mind tearing itself apart was gone. Rubbing his eyes, he looked up to see the kid he thought maybe he’d only imagined seated between the twins’ beds, deep in concentration. It was good to see he’d kept his word, but Norman couldn’t help but still be worried for his friends. Seeing them unconscious, limp…. He frowned, hugging his arms to his shoulders and heading downstairs, convincing himself they’d be alright. After all, Raz had helped him. From what few snatches he remembered, he’d been in pretty serious trouble. Lightning flashed through his thoughts, and he grimaced, wishing he was only remembering Aggie.

“Dude, you’re alive!” Soos cried when he noticed him come down the stairs, and lifted him in a giant hug. “How’re our other dudes doing?”

“I… I dunno,” Norman gasped, and Soos released him. “I think they’re okay though. Or they will be, Raz isn’t done yet.” He shrugged, but Soos nodded solemnly.

“A master at work. Check out this spoon he bent with his awesome psychic powers!” Soos pulled the utensil from a pocket, and Norman admitted it was kind of impressive how it was folded almost in half. But a creeping lightheadedness told him he had more pressing things to consider. Maybe there was something to his grandma’s favorite medical dramas after all.

“Cool. But I got up because I’m pretty sure I’m dehydrated.”

“On it!” Soos saluted, and hurried to get him something to drink, even if he could have done it himself. Taking a seat in the worn chair in the living room, he leaned back and rested, trying not to think about his friends or the pounding in his ears. The house seemed weirdly quiet too, even with Soos messing around in the kitchen, and he knew it was missing the people that gave it life.

“Okay dude, figured water would be best,” Soos said, pushing a glass into his hand. “I’ve been keeping an eye out for Gideon; little guy hasn’t shown his mug yet but I bet he will soon. Heh, Raz stuck him on his roof. Bought us a few hours so far,” the handyman explained while Norman enjoyed what seemed like the best-tasting water he’d ever had.

“Maybe he’ll leave us alone,” Norman muttered into his drink, but knew he was wrong. He just wanted to be able to catch up on all the sleep he’d been forced to miss, that they’d all missed. At least what he’d gotten so far was solid and dreamless— what his grandma would probably call a dead sleep. He chuckled to himself, then finished the water off and let Soos take the glass when he headed back upstairs. Nothing had changed in his absence, and he desperately wanted to know how things were going, but Raz was probably hard at work and shouldn’t be bothered. All he could do was stretch out on his sleeping bag and hope Soos could keep them all safe.

You kids didn’t really think you all met by chance now, did you?

Not actually sure if this is done yet; I might add some things, but for all intents and purposes it’s presentable at least. :3