Oncє upon a тιмє

“You’re actually serious about this, huh?” Judging by the strength in the conviction behind the other’s gaze, Norman couldn’t think to doubt it. Therefore, it’s fearful at first that he accepted the embrace of fingertips, numb to the anxiety which dampened the pads of digits now wound within his own.

“Dipper, I...I should warn you that I’ve never really done anything like this before.” After all, attending school dances certainly weren’t what he’d call high on his bucket list. So despite accepting the other’s hand did the youth remain quite stock still following the step taken onto the dance floor, gaze alternating between his feet and Dipper as he gave voice to the tentative question:

    “Right here’s pretty nice, actually.”

    Dipper makes room for Norman on the blanket he’d already set out. He would have reached for an unopened soda, if it weren’t for an interruption from a stray black cat, slender and crooked in all the places you would expect.

    “I don’t know how you got away without wearing a costume,” Dipper laughs, noting his hat and robes, and the creature now leaning persistently into his side. “Sorry. These little guys won’t leave me alone.” 

“Y-yeah, uh...I really lucked out, huh? I could have morphed into a zombie or something. Which would have been cool,” Kinda, “but ruins the point of Halloween.” By which he meant eating candy, of course; a final point he didn’t bother to have to make to Dipper. After all, he’d never seen a family as a whole so invested in the holiday. Though now that the evening was upon them, the event had more in store for them than anyone appeared to have anticipated.

“Speaking of that...how’s the magic coming along, and all that?” Norman now inquired curiously, more than anything eager to divert any attention to be had from himself. However, foremost he did consider himself intensely invested in the strange way which had become the twins, their new-found pursuits bearing along with it a comical degree for mishap. Though they always seemed to come out of it in one piece (an observation for which Norman was infinitely grateful).

    Short fingers tugged at sleeve hems, bright yet anxious eyes darted toward the sole path through the park that led to this spot. For a short moment, Dipper wonders if he shouldn’t make contact with the text conversation pulled up on his phone’s screen. This was definitely the time, definitely the place. Dipper had checked hundreds of times. He’d confirmed it with the other boy dozens more.

    So why hadn’t Norman shown up yet?

    Dipper chews his bottom lip, looks to his truth-serum-dosed bottle of soda, looks back to his phone. No new messages. But… Norman had to come. He wouldn’t just stand Dipper up, would he? No, this was his idea in the first place. But still… what if he did?

    He didn’t want to think about it.

He couldn’t be late-- not if his tardiness meant explaining the unfortunate predicament at present taking root. No, this night was too important to be thwarted by a little paranormal activity (that could wait).

By the time he arrived on the scene Norman was very nearly out of breath, an apology reflected genuinely in features as well as tone as he joined the other boy, hands upon his knees whilst his vitality he reclaimed.

    But back to the topic at hand. Norman had asked him a very specific question that he could do one or two things about. He could take a wild guess and be right, or he could take a wild guess and be terribly wrong. Dipper had been around the city a lot longer than he had, so Tyrone could only assume he was comfortable with it by now, right? That had to be the case, they had a Mystery Shack and everything. But what if Dipper was just acting like everything was okay when it wasn’t? That was totally something the both did all the time. 

    Finally convincing himself to speak, Tyrone laughs nervously and swallows a huge lump in his throat. 

    “Well, uh, I, uh, you see,” This was starting out as a train wreck, “I’ve been here for a while and,” He was committing now. No backing out of this one.

    “It’s okay! It’s alright, I think? Yeah, it feels, uh, like home. Sometimes. Most times!” Tyrone’s voice was a squeaky, out-of-breath, nervously laughing wreck that gave him away like a poker player without a poker face. He had to come up with a plan, he had to make himself seem less suspicious, he had to do something or else Norman was going to think he was totally weird, which he didn’t want.

    Wait. Norman didn’t know he existed. Right, right, everything was still fine.

“Thanks Dipper... But you don’t have to think that just for my sake.” The youth remarked, a had raised to rub sheepishly at one arm whilst he leaned back against the bookcase formerly behind him. In spite of saying so, the remark did much to make the boy’s heart pound, a low flush creeping across his cheeks and into his ears he was infinitely embarrassed at the thought of his companion noticing. So this he thought to cover hastily, his tongue spinning syllables before he had opportune time to review exactly what was being said.

“S-so uh, I was wondering...” Seemed like a good enough start, he surmised with an exceedingly nervous air to his tone, “Th-there’s supposed to be some sort of meteor shower on Sunday night. I mean, I’m sure it’s just a product of the scientists like everything else here--” He amended with a small shrug of the shoulders.

    “Tired, hungry…” Those first two were absolutely true. Though he had no need nor desire for either of these two necessities, it seemed as though the week had all at once caught up to him once he’d returned to a normal state. Despite having essentially repaired itself over the span of a few minutes, his body was already overcome with the exhaustion and malnutrition of having neither food nor sleep in several days.

“You don’t have to apologize to me.” A gentle squeeze accompanied this remark to assure the other they weren’t spoke out of obligation. In the face of adversity Norman had done his very best to embody sincerity in his efforts to pierce through whatever terror had taken his friend-- and he didn’t intend to stop now.

“Whatever happened to make you lose sight of who you are-- it’s gone now.” Ever slightly more firm was this assurance when Norman spoke, head drawn back somewhat to appraise Dipper in residual concern. “What matters is that you’re back. J-just...” Blue eyes drifted to the side, too shy to meet Dipper’s own when he spoke in spite of the gravity he’d attributed to similar sentiments just moments prior.

    “Well, whoever they were, it sounds to me like they’ve got a lot to learn from you. Too bad you’re stuck here with me.” Dipper lets out a small laugh at his own comment, not only to note the light sarcasm, but in part to hide his own embarrassment.

    Embarrassed or not, Dipper was almost impressed with himself. He hadn’t lost his cool since that whole slip-up earlier; Norman didn’t even seem entirely like his usual quiet self. Heck, that could be said for the both of them. With conversations like this, Dipper felt surprisingly more at-ease, especially considering the circumstances that usually would have him blushing and stuttering from the chat’s start to its finish.  

There was definitely something there... A faint flutter of the heart which took him by storm in the instant Dipper had spoken to his mutual experience. He was definitely something special-- a person with whom Norman clicked on a scale based on what made them similar, rather than what made him different. For once...he felt completely normal whilst still managing to be himself.. And it felt great.

She was alive… Only she wasn’t, not really. The flesh and bones were there, but the coldness inside and the feeling of dread that didn’t leave her from the moment that rope tightened around her neck were still present.

But this isn’t the main problem right now. The main problem is this place. It is so… big and disorienting and advanced. Where is she? Is her mom here? That’s what Norman told her! That if she lets go of her anger and leaves she would get to meet her mother again. He wouldn’t lie to her… would he? After all those things he… said…

“… Norman?” 

This doesn’t make any sense, it couldn’t be him. It couldn’t, and yet Agatha still chases after the ghost(heh) of the only living person she trusts and as soon as she’s close enough to grab him by the sleeve, she knows it’s him. It takes all she has to pull him back and look at his face (it is his face, she’ll recognise it anywhere) and grasp one of his hands so tightly it’s probably a bit painful.

“Norman! How- how are you here? You aren’t dead… are you?” Agatha presses one of her hands to Norman’s chest, keeping the other clasped tightly around his own, almost as if she’s afraid he’ll disappear if she lets go. He doesn’t feel like a dead person, and the girl is pretty sure she would know it if he was. But that means… Ugh, she doesn’t know what that means!

“I don’t understand this… I don’t understand anything!” there’s that familiar sound of static around her and it takes her a few calming breaths to tone it down. She isn’t angry, not at Norman at at least. Just sad and confused and totally lost.

A hand lain clammy and cold upon his shoulder turned his attentions upon the very subject of his imaginings, providing confirmation of the tone he had been convinced was but a product of his subconscious. Relief at first flooded him; the realization that he wasn’t alone here at all kindling the beginnings of a smile to his features in a second doused by the gravity of her uncertainty.

Agatha...she shouldn’t be here at all.

“A-Aggie. Calm down...” In spite of the great melting pot of emotions which had assaulted the boy, surprisingly at ease arrived these words seeking to temper her anxiety. And, in reassurance, swift was his free hand to rise, one over the other surmounting atop the meek hand placed upon his chest. His touch stood a sharp contrast to the cool digits lain upon him-- the undeniable warmth of blood flowing steady through his veins the only thing he truly was certain of in these troubled times.

“I’m sorry.... I-I thought--” A pause he entertained between speech, in the lull managing to take in a shallow and shuddering breath as he attempted to make sense of what things now were. Had he really lied? Surely she was bound to feel such a way-- robbed of the serenity Norman had promised her on the other side when the truth was...he had no idea for sure what was beyond the veil. But it wasn’t this...

“It’s going to be alright. I’m here to help you.” These assurances Norman presented in all sincerity, fingertips curled in hopeful reassurance about her own when he spoke.

whyamisweaty​ - spectrator​

   It had been the first affiliation Ava had agreed to in a long time. She was not entirely sure at first what something like a Mystery Shack would want with her plants, till she had realized they had wanted some of her more exotic plants. Some were dangerous, others were bizarre as they were beautiful. If Ava was able to keep them alive without hurting herself and others, she had them in her shop. Some breeds she had never even put on sale, in fear of what the public might want for them. Many in the city had power, and for those that did not had to rely on their resources were they could.

   Still, Ava had chosen a few weird starter plants to give the Shack and was on her way to deliver them now. A wagon full of a different array of flowers and vines, she pulled it till she reached the steps to the shack’s porch. Ava had attempted to lift the wagon up the steps till one of the owner’s and their employee step outside. Ava was glad she wouldn’t need to put in the effort.

    With a hop from the shack’s front porch, Dipper grins at his affiliate. “Ava! You’re awesome!” His gaze drifts to the wagon, and eyes light up as he assesses the flora. He recognizes some vaguely, by name for a couple, some others by their general disposition, but not much beyond that.

    “Are you sure you don’t need help unloading? I mean, it’s just a flowerpot. I’m not gonna touch the actual thing. Besides, I totally know what this one does. Its big sister nearly ate me alive once.”

Hand him the witchy or the undead, and you’d be certain to glean some degree of advice from the youth. But in this department...he was completely unmatched. A thought which Dipper clearly didn’t seem to share, arrogance abounding in a manner as infallibly charming to the youth as it was frustrating to their mutual acquaintance.

“These are amazing, Ava...” Norman tacked on to Dipper’s initial praise, maintaining a healthy degree of distance from the mess of leaves and colorful petals as he trailed Dipper’s eye to one such plant in particular.

“Seriously...? Having a man-eater like that around the Shack sounds pretty dangerous.” But so cool, the sentiment stood implied. After all, it wasn’t as if danger had ever dissuaded them before. So curiously did Norman regard the assortment before them, indicating another potted plant which had drawn his eye as he spoke. “I’ve never seen anything like them-- what’s this one do?”

    And the more Norman explained, the more Dipper’s expression turned from a somber one into one of a much lighter tone. His smile stretched wide and his eyes lit up in a way they hadn’t been for ages, practically shining in the wake of sudden enlightenment. “That’s it! Norman, that’s it! You’re a genius!” At that Dipper’s hands fly up to meet the other’s shoulders, gripping firmly to really make sure Norman hears what he just suggested bounced right back to him in more formulated detail.

    “You said you took the lantern and he’d help you protect your friends, right? So what’s stopping him from going after Bill? And if he can do that, maybe Bill wouldn’t find it worth the trouble, and he could call off the deal! Then all we need to do is find a loophole in yours, and we’re both home free!” The prospect of having Bill out of his hair for good was overwhelming in the best of ways, a way that let an excited laughter bubble up from his chest.

“I-I am?” These words he stuttered out at first, the clap of hands upon his shoulders exceedingly bracing as he listened to Dipper speak. Now this Norman considered a past-time easily acclimated to. After all, his company harbored a gift for gab unlike any other once the conversation had traipsed into a realm with which Dipper was knowledgeable. This plot of his certainly fell in line with these aforementioned parameters-- Dipper’s enthusiasm revolving around the scheme he laid out for the youth without compare.

“W-well I mean, he said he’d be there for me. So I figure--” Again Norman lapsed into silence, his uncertainty swiftly traded in for the faint outline of a smile-turned-chuckle at Dipper’s declaration. He could have been joking (despite signs much indicating the contrary), but now wasn’t the time to dwell upon such an ideal flight of fancy. After all, they had more pressing matters to deal with right now.

“Dipper, that might actually be crazy enough to work.” Moderately teasing sounded the boy’s tone as he mentally surveyed the outline Dipper had during the course of his speech permit depth and direction. If it worked...then Norman could at least know his deal had not been struck in vain. And this conviction to help Dipper, above all else, was what drove him to give a nod in return.

“O-okay, let’s do it.” No time like the present. “J-just....when he comes...play it cool, alright? He wouldn’t hurt you.”

Light eyes flickered down to the lantern at their feet, feeling his stomach turn for quite a different reason now that the plan was in place. Fingers twitched at his side, an open hand reaching slowly to feel for the touch of Dipper’s own between them. This reassurance secured, so with a shaky breath did Norman stoop to claim his alleged “prize”; a word spoke to the dark he had made certain to avoid up until now.

“Beast...? Are you there?”

    “Of course they aren’t. I mean, they’re technically people too, just,” Tyrone paused and looked at a ghastly illustration of what looked like an evil spirit, “deceased.” 

    Then, as Norman went on to tell Tyrone about his abilities, he had to try significantly harder to keep his cool. After all, this seemed like information Dipper would already know. But in his head, Tyrone was screaming in excitement. Norman could see ghosts? That was so cool! No wonder Dipper had a crush on Norman, he was cool. Like, really cool. He was so – 

    Oh no.

    Was he getting a crush on Norman too?

    Oh no.

    “Yeah. Lost,” Tyrone laughed to himself, a solemn expression crossing his features. Was he one of those people? 

“’Lost’ kinda implies you’ve got a place to go back to...a-a place where you feel at home.” With eyes averted did the boy begin, a hand lifting to run pensively along the spines of familiar volumes. However, he was looking without seeing now; merely keen on the efforts to avoid the other’s eyes when he spoke in hushed undertones.

“I...I never really fit in there. People don’t really understand-- they don’t want to.” Even now, Norman knew their gratitude would eventually wear off. And though the improvements made to his family were a more immediate enjoyment...the fact that so many people here spoke to the same understanding as Neil had managed to make Hive City feel more like home than Blithe Hollow had ever been.

“I-I guess you could say that “weird” is the new “normal” here.” Norman concluded, forcing a smile upon his features cast over to the fellow boy, at the time heedless of the degree to which the word applied between them. “I finally found a place where I belong. It’s better...I-I think.” He mused, thoughts strictly diverted from the absence of his family in favor of posing his own question to the boy opposite.

    “Necronomicon?” he read out loud, a smirk plastered onto his face. “I wonder if this is real?” Tyrone brushed some dust off the book and cracked it open. Carefully flipping through its fragile yellowing pages, he nods his head as he skims over some of the contents of the tome. It seemed like an awful joke, but as Tyrone continued turning the pages his heart sunk into his stomach from both excitement and fear.

     “W-wow, this is really cool, Norman,” Tyrone smiled up at the boy and turned his head back to the book, a look of pure curiosity in his gaze. Part of him wanted to take the book, after all, he didn’t have a journal like Dipper’s. But the Necronomicon was a pretty dark book to hold onto, it seemed like it would be bad news to keep something like that in his possession.

    Turning to a chapter titled Summoning The Dead, he laughed and ran his finger down the page as he read. Tyrone’s mouth hung open in a mixture of shock and genuine amusement.

“Considering our history, it might be better not to knock on that door.” He remarked thoughtfully. So shoulder to shoulder with the fellow youth, from pages depicting a variety of zombies Norman knew well and into the following chapter on specters he rifled whilst awaiting something else to perk their mutual interest.

“Usually books like this only have stuff to say about the bad ones.” Tentatively spoken at first, it was evident that this long chapter on ghosts was to what he referred. “But the truth is...th-they’re really not that much different from you and me.” He went on further to remark, drawing his hand back from the pages as on to illustrations of sea monsters they had scrolled; his own marvel at depictions of such fantastic beasts ever somewhat clouded by the topic upon which he dwelt at present.

    Sweating bullets, Tyrone looked at Norman with a wide-eyed expression and a corny forced smile. He had major stage fright. Alright, play it cool, Tyrone. He would get Dipper out of this situation, then strangle him. It would feel really good. It would all be okay.     “Movies? I love movies! Sure! A movie,” he laughed nervously, “Who loves movies? This guy!” To emphasize that he was talking about himself, Tyrone pointed to his head with two thumbs. He completely avoided eye contact with Norman.

    Tyrone was bombing it so hard.

    There was too much pressure! He barely knew the guy – how was he supposed to play it cool at a time like this? Tyrone cleared his throat loudly and looked everywhere around the room but at Norman.

    “Well, that settles it! Movies! Are Great! And I would like to see one. With you,” Tyrone sounded awfully mechanical as he spoke, as if he was some sad robot trying not to run out of battery power.

Now the connection the two Dippers held was definitely not two-way. There was no way for him to tell that Tyrone was so angry with him, and if he was, he would have at least thought about sabotaging the whole thing, right? He would, anyway. 

“Great!” He spoke up to put an end to the other’s torturous position, a few steps bridging the gap which had formerly been occupied by the shack’s infamously familiar rug strewn between them. “So I’ll drop by here tomorrow! Just try not to catch a cold in the meantime.” The youth declared, sparing not more than a few seconds to wonder at Dipper’s sudden dryness.

“You gotta show me Ducktective sometime too.” This remark accompanied the raising of Norman’s hood in anticipation of the rain beyond. And, with a last faint and crooked smile cast his way, the boy made to lower the arms Tyrone had held frozen on either side of his head instead to a state of ease at his side.

“W-well, I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye!” A few steps backwards and a wave prefaced a turn of the heel before Norman was on and out the door, the pair’s solitude again assured by the sound of steps receding off the porch and into the minefield of puddles beyond.

     In time, perhaps he too could join the forest. But for now, he could be of more strategic use.

          ❝Norman…❞ he couldn’t recall ever meeting one with the name, though that may just be the years upon years.

     There was a thoughtful lift in his voice, as if pondering the boy’s words. A momentary pause soon followed, and now it was to linger on how best to phrase the response. Perhaps the truth could work in his favour this instance, but twisted accordingly. Lies, truth– it was all pliable, to be worked around his little finger like nothing. Surely there was a desire to be pried from this human. He did not appear the picture of perfect happiness.

                                                                                      That being said, none truly did.

          ❝Astute observation.❞ The Beast, of soundless step and grace guiding his every move, drifted closer, ❝It would seem you are unaccompanied, Norman– are there others?❞

“I-it’s just me.” The thought to lie did come to mind, de-railed in the next instant by thought paid to the stutter which now rendered the boy’s tone meek and withdrawn. Lies spoke on a tongue too weak in the will to cleave neither shape nor form from frosty mistruths had no right to feign competence for the task. The creature would have no doubt seen through it with all the ease of pierced cellophane. And, although Norman was not yet convinced of the confidence others had in “honesty” as being “the best policy”, the mere thought of the truth turned his tongue to lead before it could ever manage to anoint his lips.

So briefly did silence become him, light eyes strayed down to regard the hand extended in anticipation. This wordless request he acquiesced with a foreseeable trace of reluctance as he passed off the handle, grown hot in his palm, to the custody of this towering stranger.

“I...I-I heard music coming from the woods.” Norman spoke again to fill the lull which had fallen between them. The relinquishing of the lantern accompanied the release of a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding, heart pounding in his ears as he made to further their conversation. “I wanted to know if what they were saying was true...” He ventured further to utter in a rush of great nerve.

    Dipper was being so embarrassing. Tyrone found his cheeks heating up with second-hand embarrassment that was so strong it may as well have been first-hand embarrassment. 

    Hands shooting up to cover his mouth, he tries not to yelp from Dipper stomping down on his foot. Yeesh, did he have to do it that hard?

    Taking a few uneven breaths, Tyrone cringes and attempts to continue listening to the conversation at hand. Norman seemed, well, really nice. The more he listened to him talk the more Tyrone wanted to get to know him. Why wouldn’t Dipper just introduce them? It seemed awfully suspicious, but Tyrone understood why Dipper did what he did as soon as Norman proposed a particular question to his flesh-and-blood counterpart.

    Did Dipper just get asked out on a date? 

    That totally sounded like a date. No, no, they were just going to hang out. No way Dipper would get asked out on a date. That guy was undateable. Tyrone would know. He was probably even more undateable.

    Tyrone kicks the back of Dipper’s knee (as revenge for his foot being stepped on) and squirms around with impatience. This conversation needed to end. Now.

    Did Norman just ask him out on a date?

    His face flushed bright red and words began to escape him, but soon enough Dipper was knocked out of that haze with a forceful shove to his knee that left him stumbling forward. Okay, fine, so maybe he deserved it. That was fair. 

    “I… ah…” Oh no, he wasn’t giving an answer. What kind of stage fright leaves someone unable to say yes to the guy they’ve been crushing on for ages now? 

    In the last moments of Norman’s convenient intermission behind the counter, Dipper, in a panic, drags Tyrone out from the curtain of panther shirts and dives in his place, a hand reaching out after the fact to replace his clone’s hat with his own. (The ‘2′ was a dead giveaway; definitely not one of his brightest ideas.)  

    Don’t mess this up, Dipper prays silently, in part hoping that the and his clone have some unspoken telekinetic connection or whatever. Or at least, if that didn’t work, hi could just give a forceful tug to the hair on the back of his head. The options were there.

“I mean-- if you’re busy that’s fine too. It might rain anyway so...” The brunette trailed off as eyes were drawn to mud-encrusted soles which now adorned the boy’s feet. “That was fast.” This remark he put forth with a pointed gesture to the accessory. However, small talk he could depend on little longer pending Dipper’s rejection or otherwise.

“But if you want, uh...maybe a movie?” Norman again rekindled the basis of his invitation, eyes pointedly averted in residual embarrassment as he took up his phone, effectively silencing the drone of the end credits in favor of whatever retort he would receive.