#Angie McGucket

[thelastspeecher]

Weird Little Critter - Chapter 4: Transitions, Part 1

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 AO3

You may have noticed this is a "part one". Well, @elishevart and I were working on Chapter 4, and then realized partway through we'd have to split it into two. And by the time we finished, we realized we'd have to split it into three. So keep an eye out for the next two chapters!

——————————————————————————————

              “You’re making pancakes wrong,” Stan said to Angie.  Angie pointed the spatula at him.

              “You don’t get to have an opinion on this.  You ain’t cooked a single meal since ya moved in.”

              “Yeah, ‘cause I don’t know how to cook anything except for breakfast!”

              “The pancakes ‘re perfectly fine!” Angie snapped, gesturing to the stack cooling on a plate on the counter.  Stan picked up the mason jar full of dried crickets Angie kept by the stove.

              “You put bugs in them!”

              “Only in Stanford’s!”

              Ford tuned out Stan and Angie’s bickering as he chewed his final bite of cricket chip pancakes.  He idly played with the new blue streak in his hair and sighed. 

              Now that Stan had officially moved in and wanted input on how things were run in the house, he was constantly butting heads with Angie. It seemed like the only time they weren’t arguing was when they were sleeping. Though Ford walked past Angie’s room the night before. She talked in her sleep almost every night, but last night, her sleeptalking had been a rehashing of an argument she’d had with Stan earlier that day.

              The phone rang.  Ford swallowed the last of his breakfast and stood up.

              “I’ll answer that,” he said to Stan and Angie.  Whether they heard him or not was up in the air.  He sighed and walked into the living room.  He picked up the phone.  “This is Stanford Pines.”

              “Oh, hello, Mr. Pines,” said a voice Ford recognized.  “This is Dr. Roberts from the Gravity Falls Pet Clinic.  Is Angie there?  We got the last of the results for Tubbs.”  Ford closed his eyes.

              Fantastic.  He leaned against the wall.

              “Angie and I share ownership of Tubbs,” he said.  “You can tell me the results and I’ll pass it on to her.”

              “Really?  Let me check here…”  There was some rustling.  “Yes, your name is on the paperwork as well.  All right, I can tell you.  Everything on his bloodwork seemed normal, other than a strange high amount of silver, which could cause some neurological issues.  When we drew some more blood during the appointment to remove his cast, however, the silver was gone.”

              “I see…” Ford mumbled.

              Silver, huh?  Perhaps that could be related to why I took so long to return to human form.

              “The x-ray looked fine other than his broken leg.  On the ultrasound, though, we found something interesting,” the vet continued.  Ford straightened, suddenly curious.  “Tubbs was sexed as male, and he does have testes.  However, he also has ovaries.”  Ford’s jaw dropped.

              “What?!” he shouted.  The bickering from the kitchen stopped.

              “Don’t worry, he’s fine.  It’s surprisingly common for amphibians to have both male and female reproductive organs.”

              “Will- is- can he-” Ford stammered.  He was too terrified of the answer for the question to fully leave his mouth.  However, the vet understood what he was unintentionally dancing around.

              “I suspect that he could both fertilize eggs and lay fertilized eggs himself,” the vet said.  Ford slumped against the wall.  “I won’t know for sure without running some more tests.”

              “There’s no need for that,” Ford said, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “Though…can I come by to pick up some printouts of the test results?”

              “Of course!  Bring some ID so that we can verify your identity.”

              The security at the vet is higher than some doctor’s offices I’ve been to.

              “Understood,” Ford said.

              “Great!  We’ll see you in a bit when you come to get the results, then!”

              “Yes.”  Ford hung up the phone.  Someone cleared their throat.  Ford looked over.  Angie and Stan stood in the entryway that led to the kitchen, watching him curiously.

              “What was that about?” Stan asked.

              “Oh, uh, the doctor called with the results of my medical tests.”

              “You mean the vet called,” Stan said.  Angie elbowed him roughly.  Stan winced.  He looked down at her with a scowl.  “You’re so bony it’s like you fucking stabbed me!”

              “Oh, hush,” Angie snapped.  She turned to Ford.  “Did they have some concerns?  The way ya shouted, it sounded like ya were spooked by somethin’.”

              “No, not really,” Ford said quickly.  Judging by the expressions on Stan and Angie’s faces, they didn’t buy it.  “Apparently my bloodwork showed significant levels of silver.  That was what took me by surprise.  I suspect that may be the reason I was unable to return to human form for so long.”  Stan still didn’t look convinced, but the doubt on Angie’s face faded somewhat.  “I’m going to go to the office to pick up the test results to look them over myself.”

              “You might be able to find somethin’ related to bein’ stuck fer days as a salamander,” Angie said.  Ford nodded, seizing the lie.  “Be polite to the folks at the vet, okay?  They don’t know any of what yer goin’ through, so lashin’ out at ‘em would be completely pointless.”

              “Of course,” Ford said firmly.  “I understand that.”

              “Good.”

              “Hey, uh, while you’re out and about,” Stan said cheerfully, “maybe pick up some chocolate chips?  That way Angie can make some decent pancakes?”  Angie elbowed him again.  “Oof!”  Ford grabbed the keys to the pickup.

              “I’ll see what I can do,” he said dryly.

-----

              The clock on the oven declared that it was past midnight.  Ford rifled through the pages of Tubbs’s medical results under the soft yellow glow of the kitchen light.  When he arrived at the vet, they had happily handed everything over to him, even taking the time to annotate the results, labeling structures on the x-ray and ultrasound, pointing out what levels were healthy for the various analytes in his bloodwork.

              I didn’t expect to need their notes, but I clearly overestimated my ability to read medical results.  Ford frowned at one of the ultrasound images.  I would have no idea what I was looking at if they hadn’t labeled it.

              “Yer up late,” a soft voice said.  Ford jerked in surprise, one of the ultrasound pictures falling to the floor.  The speaker, Angie, walked over and picked it up.  Ford’s heart began to race.

              “Well, uh, I could say the same about you,” he managed weakly.  “I thought you went to bed hours ago.”

              “I did. I got up to get a glass of water.”

              “Ah.”  Ford held out a hand.  “Don’t let my late night studying delay you.”  His heart sank.  Angie wasn’t giving him the page.  She was looking down at it with a small frown.  “Angie, that is my private medical information.”

              “Is this why ya got so worked up durin’ the phone call earlier?” she asked quietly.  “And why you were actin’ a bit off the rest of the day?”

              “I- I don’t know what you’re-” Ford stammered.  Angie placed the page on the table, image up.  Painfully visible red marker circled and labeled “Ovaries” and “Testes” on the picture.

              “It ain’t uncommon fer this sort of thing to happen in what we call ‘lower vertebrates’,” Angie said.  “Amphibians are included in that group.  Though I mostly hear ‘bout it in frogs, rather than salamanders.”

              “By ‘this sort of thing’, you mean…”

              “Havin’ both ovaries and testes,” Angie said flatly.  Ford closed his eyes.  “This ain’t somethin’ to be ashamed of!”

              “How?” Ford snapped.  “How could I not be ashamed?”

              “Look.”  Angie sat at the table across from Ford.  “This happens!  In humans!  Non-cursed humans!  I learned ‘bout it in school.  Durin’ egg production, sperm production, fertilization, gestation, sometimes development goes left when it was s’pposed to go right.  Folks wind up with reproductive systems or- or sex hormones outside the norm.”  Angie smiled.  “It’s just another way of bein’.”

              “I suppose you would have a less negative viewpoint of this, given where you’re from,” Ford muttered.  Angie’s smile faded.

              “What’s that s’pposed to mean?”

              “Abnormalities and disorders are common in isolated rural communities.”  A shadow crossed Angie’s face.

              “That was uncalled for,” she said in a low tone.  “All’s I’m doin’ is tryin’ to comfort ya!”

              “Maybe I don’t want comfort!”

              “You want to wallow?”

              “Perhaps,” Ford said tartly, fully aware that he was purposefully being contrary at this point.

              “Lord above.”  Angie rubbed her eyes wearily.  “This don’t change anything.  It ain’t like ya were plannin’ on reproducin’ in yer cute salamander form anyways.”

              “What about my human form?” Ford asked.  Angie frowned at him.  “The axolotl I spoke to at the pet store told me even when I appear human, I’m still an amphibian.  Does that mean I-”  Ford swallowed.  He hugged his sides, choking out the words with difficulty. “Does that mean I have ovaries right now?” he croaked weakly.  Angie stared at him.  After a moment, she sighed.

              “I don’t know.”  She leaned back in her chair.  “And…I know ya don’t want to hear this, but it’s a possibility, so I have to get it out there.  You never had an ultrasound ‘fore ya got cursed.  It’s possible you’ve always been like this and didn’t know.”

              “Yes,” Ford said quietly.  “That is a very real possibility.  Polydactyly sometimes is tied to genetic disorders, after all.  My doctor tested me for everything he could think of when I was a child.  But it’s possible something was missed.”

              “That- I weren’t tryin’ to tie it to yer polydactyly,” Angie said, sounding impatient.  “I told ya, folks what have no symptoms can discover their reproductive systems developed in a weird way durin’ a routine exam or puberty or when they’re strugglin’ to have children.”  Ford nodded.  “The way I see this sit’ation is that we ain’t quite reached the bridge we need to cross yet.”

              “What do you mean?”

              “Like I said, this don’t change anything,” Angie said.  Her tone had eased from irritated to gentle.  “If ya start, I don’t know, developin’ breasts or experiencin’ weird hormonal swings, we’ll deal with it then.  If ya want to have a child with someone and are strugglin’ to conceive, we’ll deal with it then.  Those are the bridges we’ll cross.  But we ain’t reached ‘em.”  Ford let Angie’s words sink in for a few moments.  He nodded slowly.

              “You are correct.  We have new data, but nothing it can be used for yet.” He slumped on the table, resting his head on his arm as he idly picked up another note. 

              “Exactly.”  Angie yawned, politely covering her mouth while it was open.  “And I know how ya work, so please don’t try to sneak somewhere with an ultrasound to get yourself checked out in human form.  Ya won’t be able to operate the dang thing right and I’ll just have to bail ya out of jail.”  Ford managed a small smile.

              “Noted.”  Angie yawned again.  “Angie, you look exhausted.”

              “It’s the middle of the night.”

              “Yes, but you’ve been looking tired in the middle of the day as well,” Ford pushed.  Angie shrugged.  “I think you may be slipping into bad habits and pushing yourself too hard.”  Angie rolled her eyes as he closed his own.  “I recognize it is slightly hypocritical of me.”

              “It is,” Angie said.  She shifted in her seat and looked away.  “But…I have been feelin’ a bit like a cub scout den mother tryin’ to manage both you and Stan.”

              “I’m sorry.  Is there anything I can do to help?”

              “Since yer back to yer normal self, I’d appreciate ya doin’ more stuff ‘round the house.  Maybe wrangle Stan every now and then.”  Angie yawned for a third time.  “All right.  I’ve got to get back to bed.  I’ll talk to ya in the mornin’.”  She got up from the table.  She clumsily exited the kitchen, bumping into the doorjamb on her way out.  Guilt formed a painful pit in Ford’s stomach.

              She really has been acting as our manager for far too long.  A yawn escaped from him.  I should go to bed as well.  Ford began to gather up the paperwork.  I’ll have to figure out a way to make it up to Angie for all her help.  Perhaps I can purchase a gift of some sort for her.

-----

              “I can’t believe he brought us here.”

              “I can’t believe he suggested it.” 

              Ford cleared his throat, drawing Stan and Angie’s attention.

              “Well, we have been cooped up in the house and more importantly I was stuck in my tank for most of last week, so an outing seemed appropriate. Besides...” He turned to Angie. “I thought we all could use the distraction.”

              Angie nodded knowingly. To Ford’s relief, the bags under her eyes weren’t as prominent as they had been a few days ago. After their discussion in the kitchen, he had decided to seek out an activity to improve her mood and energy. Thankfully, he stumbled across this activity the three of them could enjoy, a town over.

              “Yeah, but why a zoo?” asked Stan as they stepped toward the archway entrance.

              “It’s actually a sanctuary for unwanted animals,” Ford explained. “The animals here are generally exotic pets that the owner couldn’t take care of, old circus or zoo animals, and rescued wild animals that couldn’t be released after being healed.”

              “Why not an amusement park? Or a fair? Or even, I don’t know, the lake?”

              “Are ya serious?” sighed Angie. 

              “What? It could- oh right. Yeah, after you got nabbed there, the lake might not be a great idea.” Stan looked away, scratching the back of his neck. Ford walked up to him and patted his shoulder.

              “It doesn’t matter. I admit that I might, ah, not yet be ready for the lake, but what happened is in the past.”  He offered a reassuring smile. Stan returned the expression.  Angie stood on her tiptoes to swing her arms across the twins’ shoulders, a grin of her own spread across her face.

              “Then let’s get going, boys!” she exclaimed as she gently pushed them toward the entrance. 

-----

              The start of the sanctuary visit went smoothly. They began with the big outdoor animals. The place was clean and had undergone a recent makeover, as a volunteer explained to them. The enclosures holding the animals they oohed and ahhed at were now bigger and offered more stimulation and enrichment. 

              There was a bit of everything. Raccoons and skunks that people thought would make great pets. A bobcat that had been caught in a trap and lost a leg. An old retired elephant. A trio of young brown bears whose mother had sadly perished a few months prior. A pond with crocodiles that made a voice in Ford’s head tell him to stay clear. They were even given the opportunity to feed some of the giraffes and birds. 

              Ford couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Angie this happy and excited. He smiled at his friend, then glanced at his twin. Stan too had a broad smile and a spark in his eye.  A spark that Ford recalled well from when they were younger. He smiled back and kept walking with them. 

              Everything was going great.  The trio was headed to the final stop of the tour: the reptile room. Angie’s smile got twice as big as she rushed for the door. Both twins were right behind her. 

              As soon as Ford crossed the double doors, he was assaulted by an onslaught of tiny voices talking all at the same time. 

              “Food! Dislike strangers. Want water. Too cold. Too hot. Sleepy. Bored. Like strangers. Strangers fun! Look at me! Don’t look! Look! Look! Sad. Happy!”

              Stanford looked for the crowd of people that clearly had to be in the reptile room.  But he, Stan, and Angie were the only ones there.  All he could see were the many aquariums housing reptiles and amphibians. His ears started to ring. A muffled voice came from his left.

              “Ford, are you all right?”

              He spun around to see his companions watching him with worried expressions on their faces.

              “How are you so calm?” he asked.  “Can you not hear it?” His own voice felt distant and overshadowed by everything around him. 

              “Hear what?” asked Stan. Ford opened his mouth to respond, but the voices were increasing in volume, overwhelming him.  He covered his ears in vain. His breath came in and out faster, on the brink of hyperventilating. He closed his eyes, trying to reduce some of the stimulus overtaking him.

              “Oh my gosh! Stanley, help me get him out of here now!” Angie shouted. 

              Soon, Ford felt two hands on his arms guiding him somewhere. He was too overcome to fight as he was led away. Fresh air hit his face.  Ford opened his eyes.  They were outside.  The cacophony of voices was slowly starting to die down. Stan lowered him to the ground, his back leaning against a wall. 

              “All right, Sixer, deep breaths, take it easy,” said his twin as Ford gasped for air.  Stan rubbed slow circles on Ford’s back, but despite their close proximity, he still sounded distant. “What happened back there?”  Ford shook his head, unable to say anything.  Thankfully, Angie spoke up.

              “A few weeks ago when we went to a pet store, he talked with an axolotl there,” she said.  “I’m guessin’ he heard all those critters in there.  All at once.  Which would be a lot.  Am I right, Stanford?”

              “I believe so,” Ford croaked. He could feel bile rising in his throat and swallowed to keep it down. 

              Another “fantastic perk” of my…condition.  After a few minutes of breathing in the fresh outdoor air, Ford had calmed enough to regain control.

              “How are ya feelin’?” asked Angie. Ford glanced up to see his friend looking at him, her blue eyes filled with worry. 

              “Drained and exhausted.” Stanford sighed. “It feels like my head is about to explode.”

              “All right, I think we’re gonna cut our trip short,” declared Stan. He lifted Ford’s arm, helping him back to his feet. “Come on, Ford, let’s get you home.”

              “And get ya somethin’ to drink when we get there,” Angie added.  Stan looked at her with interest.  Angie rolled her eyes. “I was referrin’ to water, not alcohol.”  Stan rolled his eyes right back at her. 

              Ford grumbled, upset to be leaving so soon, but obeyed, even as his legs threatened to buckle at any moment. Stan supported him as they slowly trekked back to the car. When they got to the car, Ford leaned heavily against it until Stan unlocked the doors, then crawled into the back seat.

              “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. 

              “About what?” Angie asked as she sat next to him. 

              “I ruined our outing because of my…episode.”

              “Don’t worry, Sixer,” Stan said with a shrug. “It could have happened to anyone.” He turned the engine on and slowly drove them away. 

              No, it couldn’t. Ford leaned his head on his hand and watched the scenery pass by. Only my curse could have ruined such a perfect outing. 

-----

              The light of the first full moon since Stan had come to stay lit a path for Ford to follow home.  There was a bounce in his step as he walked.  He had heard about the legendary underground black market for magical creatures in Gravity Falls, called the Crawlspace.  In fact, it was one of the first things he learned about the magical creature culture when he started his research.  But humans were not allowed, and the ban was strictly enforced.  Now, however?  He had been able to locate the market and walk in without a problem.

              And I finally got Angie that gift she deserves. It, along with something Ford had purchased for himself, was nestled snugly in a crossbody bag Angie had given him before he left for the Crawlspace.  Ford was nervous about trying the potion he’d got for himself.  Though part of me is excited to see what it will do.  Ford arrived at the house.  He opened the front door.

              “Hello?” he called tentatively.  The Stanmobile wasn’t in the driveway, so Stan was presumably out.  But Angie was more of a homebody, so she wasn’t likely to have left with Stan.

              “I’m in the living room!” Angie’s voice called.  He walked into the house and made his way to the living room.  Angie was sitting on the couch reading a book.  As Ford approached, he could make out the title: Journey to the Center of the Earth.

              “Why are you up late reading Jules Verne?” Ford asked.  Angie chuckled.  She patted the couch cushion next to her.  Ford climbed up.

              “I’m actually quite the fan of science fiction,” she said, sounding almost shy.

              “I had no idea.  I always see you reading field guides or other informative literature.”

              “That’s fer research.  Lately, I’ve been too busy to read fer reg’lar enjoyment.  I decided to get some fun readin’ done while Stan was out of the house.”  Angie slid a bookmark into the novel and set it aside.  “Did ya find the watchacallit?”

              “The Crawlspace?” Ford asked, amused.  Angie nodded.  “Yes, I did!”

              “Oh, excellent!”  Angie clapped her hands.  “Did ya enjoy yourself?”

              “Yes, it was most informative,” Ford gushed.  Angie beamed at him.  “I’m glad to have finally found a silver lining for the thundercloud that is my curse.”  Angie stroked the top of Ford’s head.

              “I knew you’d find a benefit somewhere.”  A twinkle entered Angie’s eye.  “Since it’s a market, did ya do some shoppin’?”

              “Yes.”  Ford smiled at Angie.  “And yes, the bag you gave me came in handy.  Thank you.”

              “I’m glad.”  Angie leaned in.  “What did ya buy?”

              “I’ll show you!”  Ford opened the bag and took out the two potions.  They were in nearly identical dark green bottles, as Ford had procured them from the same seller.  But Ford knew which one was which.  He handed over the one he had purchased for Angie.  “This is for you.”

              “Aw, you didn’t need to get me anything!”

              “Yes, I did,” Ford said firmly.  “You have been a rock as of late.  This is the least I can do.”  Angie smiled.

              “Thank you.”  Angie looked down at the label, written in the language of the magical creatures.  “Uh, what is it?”

              “It relieves muscle aches and cramps,” Ford said.

              “Oh, that’s perfect, I been strugglin’ with that,” Angie said softly.

              “It’s also apparently a sleeping elixir.  It should give you peaceful, dreamless sleep,” Ford continued.  Angie set the potion by her book and wrapped her arms around Ford.

              “Honey, that’s exactly what I need right now, thank you!”

              “It’s no problem,” Ford said, returning the hug.  Angie squeezed him, then let go.  “You should get some rest.”

              “I don’t know.”  Angie looked over in the direction of the front door.  “Stan ain’t back yet.”

              “I’ll stay up for him.”  Ford patted Angie’s hand.  “Go to bed.”  Angie chuckled softly.

              “All right, all right.”  Angie kissed the top of Ford’s head.  “I’m goin’ to try this here potion out and get some shut-eye.”

              “Good night.”

              “Good night.”  Angie got up from the couch and departed for her room, leaving her book behind.  Ford pulled his potion out of the bag.  He stared at it.

              No.  I should wait.  After a moment, he shrugged and picked up Angie’s book, opening it to the first page.  The font was maddeningly blurry with his poor amphibious eyesight.  …Never mind.  Ford looked around, spotted the TV remote on the back of the couch, and grabbed it.  Television it is.

-----

              “Is the coffee done yet?” Stan asked tiredly.  He yawned.  “I really need a cuppa.”

              “It should be ready soon,” Ford replied, stifling a yawn of his own.  He was feeling the effects of his late night.  “Is Angie still asleep?”

              “Dunno.”  Stan stretched.  The motion pulled the edge of his T-shirt up past his belly button.  “If she is, that’s weird.  She’s usually up at the ass crack of dawn.”

              “Yes, well, she comes from a farming family,” Ford mumbled.  Stan grunted wordlessly.  There was a shout from upstairs.  Stan and Ford locked eyes.  “That came from Angie’s room.”

              “But that wasn’t Angie,” Stan said.  “That was a guy.”  A second passed.  The twins abruptly bolted from the kitchen, coffee forgotten.  They sprinted up the stairs to the attic.  A strange man stood in front of Angie’s mirror and dresser, staring at his reflection.  He looked at the two.  Ford came to a stop.  The man looked eerily familiar.

              “Fiddleford?” Ford asked.  The man, panic in his eyes, looked over at the mirror again as though not familiar with his reflection.

              “I- I reckon I look awful sim’lar to him,” the man said in a quavering, heavily accented voice.  “But I-”  Whatever he was about to say was cut off by Stan slamming him against the wall.  “What in the sam hill-”

              “Who are you?” Stan snarled.

              “I’m-”

              “What did you do with Angie?”

              “What?” the man asked, sounding both perplexed and terrified.  Ford glanced over at the dresser.  A dark green bottle sat next to Angie’s moisturizer and sunscreen.  Ford frowned.  He picked it up.

              “I’ll ask a second time, but I won’t ask a third,” Stan ground out.  “Where.  Is.  Angie?”

              “I’d tell ya if ya let me get a word in edgewise!” the man snapped.  Ford read the label on the bottle, his mouth silently forming the words.  He felt the blood drain from his face.

              “Talk faster, then!” Stan shouted.

              “Stan,” Ford croaked.  Stan looked over.  “Stan, leave him alone.”       

              “But-”

              “Come here.  You need to read this,” Ford said firmly.  Stan shot a glare at the man, but let him go.  He stalked over to Ford.  Ford held out the bottle.  Stan squinted at the label.

              “What the hell does this say and what does it have to do with some guy in Angie’s room?” Stan asked.

              “I forgot you couldn’t read the language of magical creatures,” Ford mumbled.  He adjusted his glasses.  “This is a potion I purchased in the Crawlspace last night.  One of two, actually.  I bought one for Angie as a pain and cramp reliever.  I bought the second one to, ah, study at home.”

              “Which one is this one?” Stan asked.

              “Not the one I intended to give Angie.”

              “So it’s not to help with pain,” Stan said.  Ford shook his head.  “What does it do?”  Ford rubbed the back of his neck.  “Stanford,” Stan said, a dangerous edge creeping into his voice, “what potion did you give her?”

              “It- it purports to be a, ah, transformative elixir,” Ford stammered.  “It can transform men into women.”  He winced.  “And it can also do the reverse.”  Stan and Ford looked at the strange man.  The man blushed, his entire face beet red.  He was wearing Angie’s typical choice of pajamas: an old T-shirt and athletic shorts.  Though he was holding up the athletic shorts, as they were loose on his narrow hips.

              “…Angie?” Stan asked.  The man somehow turned even redder.

              “Y-yes,” he squeaked out.  Stan pinched the bridge of his nose.

              “Holy Moses, Sixer.  You turned her into a guy!”

              “I know, I-” Ford started.  He took a deep breath.  “I must have mixed up the bottles.  My vision in my other form is too poor to make out small lettering.”  He looked at Angie.  “Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out.”  Angie nodded.  “Get dressed, then you can meet us downstairs.”  Angie glanced over at his closet doubtfully.  “Ah, get dressed as well as you can.”

              “We’ll get you something to fit you better later,” Stan added.  He shot Ford a look.  “Ford’s paying.”  Ford resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

              “S-sounds good,” Angie mumbled.  He cleared his throat.  “K-kindly leave so’s I can, uh, get- get ready ‘n whatnot.”

              “Yes, of course,” Ford said with a nod.  He grabbed Stan and pulled his twin downstairs.  When they got to the ground floor, Stan looked back up the stairs, a pensive expression on his face.  “What?”

              “Is it just me, or does Angie make a damn cute guy?” Stan asked softly.  Ford thought back to the brief glimpses he’d gotten earlier.  His ears grew warm.

              No, it’s not just him.

-----

              “I still can’t believe you turned Angie into a guy,” Stan muttered as he flipped a pancake on the stove.  Ford sighed.

              “It was an accident and I’m incredibly distressed this happened as well.”  There was a polite cough.  Stan and Ford looked over.  Angie stood in the doorway.  While his shirt was the appropriate size, if fitting oddly, the jeans he wore were a few inches too short and loose around the hips, needing a belt.  “We need to get you some new clothes.”  Angie’s face fell.

              “I’m guessin’ that means ya won’t be able to get me back to normal any time soon,” he said softly.  While lower than before, his voice was still higher than average for a man, and had a melodic lilt to it, likely due to his accent.

              “Unfortunately, no,” Ford confirmed.  Angie sighed and sat next to him at the table.  Ford silently noted, to his amusement, that despite Angie’s visible distress, he had made sure to follow his regular morning hygiene routine, with his face clean and his hair carefully styled.  “I looked more closely at the label and instructions.  You drank enough of the potion to keep you in this form for three days.”  Angie stared at him.

              “Three days?!”

              “Don’t worry,” Ford said quickly, holding up his hands.  “I’ll return to the Crawlspace tonight and speak to the seller.  He may have something to reverse the effects of the potion early.”

              “I’m comin’ with.”

              “Humans aren’t allowed.”

              “I can wear some of those Star Trek ears ya got in yer closet and pretend to be an elf,” Angie scoffed.  “Maybe throw some pixie dust over me to get that supernatural sparkle.”  Stan snorted.  Ford frowned.

              “I suppose that could work.  But why do you want to come?”

              “Ya mixed stuff up from yer bad axolotl vision.  I don’t want to risk another mixup.”

              “Ah.”  Ford shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  “…Fair.”  Angie sighed.

              “I weren’t tryin’ to hurt yer feelin’s…”

              “No, I’m- I’m fine,” Ford said quickly.  Angie gave him a look that suggested he didn’t buy it.  Stan cleared his throat.

              “By the way,” he drawled, “I heard the toilet flush.”  Angie covered his face with his hands.  “Whattaya think of the new…equipment?”

              “You don’t need to answer that,” Ford said quickly.

              “Oh, I weren’t plannin’ on it,” Angie said, his voice muffled by his hands.  “Stanley, ya can’t just ask someone that!”

              “Aw, come on.  We’re all guys here!”

              “Stan…” Ford said in a warning tone.

              “Fine, fine.  I’ll shut up.”  Stan placed a plate of pancakes in front of Angie.  “Eat up, Angie,” he said.  He frowned.  “Uh.  Should we call you something else until you’re back to normal?”

              “That sounds like a good idea,” Angie said.  He rubbed the back of his neck.  “It- it feels awful odd to be referred to as Angie when I’m, um, this.”

              “Banjo, perhaps?” Ford suggested.  Angie nodded slowly.

              “I like it.”  Angie- Banjo looked at Stan with a frown.  “Somethin’ wrong?”  Stan was watching with a frown of his own.

              “Why the hell did Ford suggest Banjo and why the fuck did you agree to it?”

              “Oh, that’s right, I ain’t told ya what Angie is short fer yet,” Banjo said.

              “I thought it was short for Angela.”

              “No.  It’s short fer Banjolina,” Banjo said, beginning to cut up one of his pancakes.  Stan raised an eyebrow.

              “What the hell kinda name is Banjolina?”

              “A McGucket one,” Ford and Banjo said together.  Banjo shot a grin at Ford.  Ford felt butterflies in his stomach.

              Oh, no.  Please don’t let this be a pattern.

-----

              Banjo laughed goodnaturedly.

              “No, I ain’t wearin’ the hat!” he said, playfully shoving Stan.

              “C’mon!” Stan wheedled.  “I paid for it with my own money!  You’ve gotta wear it!”

              “I believe I was the one to pay for it,” Ford said.  Stan rolled his eyes.

              “You pay me, so I paid for it.”

              “That’s not how it-”  Ford cut himself off, shaking his head.  “Stop bothering Banjo.”

              “He’s laughing, he’s having a good time.”

              “I ain’t annoyed, Stanford,” Banjo said.  “I’ll let Stanley know if I reach that point.”

              “Hmph.  Very well,” Ford muttered.  After breakfast, they went shopping for clothes for Banjo.  At first, Banjo insisted that they spend as little time as possible out and about while he was in his current form.  But once he was wearing clothes that fit him, he calmed down significantly, even allowing Stan to talk him into going out for lunch and walking around Main Street after.  Now, Stan was desperately trying to convince Banjo to wear the cowboy hat he had Ford purchase a few minutes ago.

              I didn’t even realize there was a western store in town.  But they had passed it while walking down Main Street, and when Banjo slowed down to admire the clothing in the display window, Ford insisted they go inside and find something for him.  I feel like I need to make up for what happened.  Though he seems remarkably unperturbed by this experience.  A tendril of frustration began to uncurl in Ford’s gut.  Why is he so blasé? 

              “You already got me to wear the cowboy boots,” Banjo said.

      ��       “But your jeans completely cover them up!” Stan protested.

              “You should’ve considered that when ya told me to wear ‘em now,” Banjo retorted with a grin.  Stan huffed.  Banjo tossed his head, laughing.  His caramel-colored hair bounced from the movement, drawing Ford’s eye.  It was agonizing how much Banjo resembled Fiddleford.

              I didn’t realize how much I missed F until I was reminded of him every time Banjo did something.  Hopefully, the painful reminders would slow, now that Banjo was dressed.  His fashion sense was different from Fiddleford’s, other than the same predilection for flared jeans.  At the moment, Banjo was wearing a green flannel shirt with a simple orange undershirt.  A far cry from F’s flamboyant tops.

              “I reckon we should head back soon,” Banjo drawled.  He tucked his hands into his back pockets.  “The full moon will be risin’ ‘fore we know it.”

              “Please, we’ve got plenty of time,” Stan said dismissively.  “I think we should go get a drink.”

              “Hmm.”  Banjo titled his head and smiled at Stan.  “I don’t know ‘bout that.  I ain’t in the mood to deal with two drunk fellers on my own.”

              “You don’t drink?”

              “No, I do.”  Banjo’s smile broadened.  “I do it very well.”

              “Oh, I get it.  You think you could outdrink me.”

              “Wrong.”  Banjo leaned in.  Thanks to his new height - which he seemed very pleased with - his face was mere inches away from Stan’s.  “I know I can outdrink ya.”  A goofy grin spread across Stan’s face, accompanied by a faint flush.  Ford recognized the expression.  It was the same one Stan made every time Carla McCorkle ran her hands through his hair or kissed him on the cheek.  Ford thought back to what Stan had said earlier that day.

              “Is it just me, or does Angie make a damn cute guy?”

              Oh, no.  No.  Please tell me Stan isn’t developing a crush on Banjo!  Sweet Moses, this could turn messy fast.  For one thing, he won’t stay Banjo, he’ll return to being Angie!  Ford cleared his throat.  Banjo and Stan looked at him.

              “I believe we have enough time to make one more stop before returning home,” he said.  Stan punched the air.

              “Yes!  We can get wasted.”

              “No, we cannot,” Ford said firmly.  Stan blew a raspberry at him.

              “Killjoy.  What are we gonna do, then?”

              “There’s a bakery a few blocks from here,” Banjo suggested.  Stan perked up.

              “Bakery?  Hell yes!”  Stan sped up his pace eagerly.  Banjo chuckled.  He and Ford fell into step alongside each other.

              “That brother of yours is quite the character,” he said with a smile.  “Luckily, he’s the kind of character I tend to be fond of.”

              “Really,” Ford said flatly.  With the continuation of Banjo’s casual attitude, the frustration Ford felt earlier was beginning to fester.  Banjo looked at him, bemused.

              “Somethin’ wrong?”

              “I’m just-”  Ford took a steadying breath.  “I’m just perplexed at how easy going you are being about- about-”

              “About bein’ Banjo?” Banjo asked.  He frowned.  “Look, I ain’t happy ‘bout it.”

              “Could have fooled me,” Ford said under his breath.  Banjo ignored his comment.

              “I just reckon it’d be a waste of my time ‘n energy to be overly upset,” he continued.  “I can’t do anything ‘bout it right now, so why get all worked up?  At least, now that I’ve had some time to adjust.”  Banjo put his hands on his hips.  “And what’s with that lil remark ‘bout me not seemin’ unhappy?  Didn’t ya hear me shout this mornin’?  Didn’t ya see how distraught I was?”

              “And yet you don’t appear upset at all,” Ford said snidely.  Banjo clenched his hands into fists.

              “It’s called actin’, Stanford!  Actin’ like I’m fine to make sure the boat don’t get rocked!  It’s a skill I’ve developed while I take care of you ‘n Stanley!”

              Ford scowled at him. “We don’t need babysitting,” he said shortly.  Banjo stopped walking to face Stanford squarely.

              “Really? Might I remind ya of the argument you and Stanley had not a month ago?” he retorted.  Ford’s brow furrowed further.

              “I was stuck as an axolotl for a week at that point! I had been to the vet on two separate occasions and was completely useless at home! I was getting frustrated and needed to vent!”  As he spoke, his voice rose without his noticing it. 

              “So what’s frustratin’ ya now?! Yer not an axolotl and ya won’t be for another hour, so what’s eatin’ at ya?”  Banjo’s voice was beginning to rise as well. The few passersby slowed down to stare, bewildered by the odd conversation.

              “YOU are INFURIATING me!” shouted Ford. “For Pete’s sake! You’ve been a man for less then a day and are already comfortable in your new skin! You’ll be back to normal in a few days while I’ll still be cursed to be an amphibian for the rest of my damn life!”

              An eerie silence circled them. 

              “Son of a-  I’ve been cursed for half a year and I’m still uncomfortable in my second skin! I have to eat bugs! I have to sleep in water! My skin itches! I hate it! And here you are in the middle of town having the time of your life!”  Ford was panting by the time he was done, looming over Banjo.  Waves of heat washed inside of him, crashing against rising shame.

              “Stanford?” came Stan’s voice behind him.  He must have come back after he realized Ford and Banjo weren’t following him anymore.

              “What?”  Ford turned around to face his twin.  He didn’t want to look at Banjo, not with the mist in the other man’s eyes.  Stan gestured to the sides of his head.

              “Um, your, uh, your gills are- are out.”

              Panic washed over Ford as he raised his hands to the side of his face.  He could feel the gills, six in total with three on each side, squirming.  His ears were already gone. He then heard it before he could feel it. There was a pop and rip followed by a burning sensation at the base of his spine when his tail, big, round, and pink erupted.  Ford fell to his hands and knees.  The entirety of his body was aching and tingling.

              What’s going on?  The full moon hasn’t risen yet!  A new worry filled Ford with horror.  We’re in public!  People could be watching!  He looked around, but already his vision was worsening. Soon he felt his glasses slipping as his nose disappeared.  From what he could make out, it appeared that only Stan and Banjo were currently present.  But they were on Main Street.  At any moment, someone could stumble across them.

              “Banjo, what should we do?” Stan asked.  Banjo stayed silent.  “Banjo?”

              “The two of ya can figure it out,” Banjo said, his voice thick.  “I’ll meet ya back at the car.”  Ford watched Banjo’s blurry figure walk away.

              “...Great,” Stan sighed.  He looked down at Ford on the ground.  “I’m gonna, uh, move you out of the way, okay?”  Ford nodded weakly.  Judging by how loose his clothes had gotten, he had already shrunk to half his size.  This conclusion was proven accurate when Stan picked him up and carried him into a nearby alleyway, both of them ducking behind a large dumpster. As soon as Stan dropped him to the ground, Ford fell on his side, his body continuing to morph into a new form. He struggled to his shifting feet.

              “How are we going to get back to the car?” Ford asked, his voice breaking into a higher pitch. He hugged his sides and hissed through his teeth as waves of heat washed over his body. His tail curled around him, grazing his calf.

              “Uh.”  Stan looked around.  “There’s a big box here.  It looks clean enough.  Once you’re done, you can climb inside and I’ll cover you with your clothes.”

              “Okay.”  Ford grunted as he felt his bones shift.  “I really wish I wasn’t transforming in a dirty alleyway.”

              “Eh, I’ve seen worse places to turn into a giant salamander,” Stan said with a shrug.  He scratched his chin.  “You- you really tore Banjo a new one back there.  What was that about?”

              Despite the pain, Stanford felt his whole body freeze in place. 

              “How much of the argument did you hear?”

              “Only the end of it, really.  Something about him having the time of his life?”

              “I…”  Ford sighed.  “I let my temper get the better of me.”

              “No shit.  I figured out that much on my own,” Stan scoffed.  “Why were you angry at him?”

              “I’m just…frustrated.  He’s doing perfectly fine right now, and I- I’m not.”

              “What are you talking about?” Stan asked quietly.  “You think he’s doing fine?”

              “He’s joking and laughing with you.” Ford hissed as a particularly painful shift rearranged his jaw. 

              “Yeah, but it’s mostly anxious laughter.  He’s had that scared deer look in his eyes all day.  And he starts shaking if we stand still for too long.  My guess, Banjo’s roughly one dropped ice cream cone away from having a nervous breakdown.”  Stan looked over at Ford.  “You really didn’t notice?”

              “No!  I- I thought he was taking his current circumstance in stride.”  Ford winced, both from the pain of his transformation and the sting of just how poorly he had read Banjo’s body language.  “I should have consulted you earlier.  You were always better with people.”

              “Eh.  Neither of us have ever been good at the whole communicating thing,” Stan said.  Ford sighed.

              “Correct.”

              “So, uh, are you done?” Stan asked.  Ford moved his body tentatively.  His legs, arms, head, and tail responded.  The prickling that accompanied the end of his transformation had faded.  And he could barely see a few inches in front of him.

              “It appears that I am.” His voice was completely changed. 

              “Good.  Step outta your clothes while I get the box.”  Ford did as instructed and shimmed out of his now oversized sweater.  When Stan came back with the box, he climbed inside.  Stan covered him with his clothes.  “Eugh, they got all slimy!”

              “I produce a mucosal secretion from my skin during times of high stress,” Ford mumbled automatically.  It was one of the things Angie had noted during her time studying Ford’s amphibious form before Stan joined them.

              “It’s gross,” Stan said firmly.  Ford felt the box rise off the ground.  He curled up, his stomach churning from distress as he was carried back to the car.  After a few minutes of Ford bouncing and sliding around in the box, Stan came to a stop.  “Hey, Banj.”

              “Banj?” Banjo’s voice said.  Ford covered his eyes with his paws, overcome by guilt.  Banjo’s voice was weak, as though he had just been crying.

              “Short for Banjo.”

              “Banjo’s already short fer my proper name.”

              “Someone can have two nicknames.”

              “Hmm.  Fair enough,” Banjo said.  Ford mustered some courage and poked his head up through the clothes.  Banjo, blurry, stood a few feet away, leaning against the Stanmobile.  “Hello.”

              “Banjo, I-”

              “I’m goin’ to act as though the last fifteen or so minutes didn’t happen,” Banjo interrupted.  “At least, fer now.  We’ve got to head back to the Crawlspace to see if anyone can get me back to rights.”  Though Ford couldn’t see Banjo’s blue eyes, he could still feel them boring into him.  “Will you agree to act that way as well?”

              “Yes,” Ford squeaked pathetically.  Banjo nodded.  Stan unlocked the car and slid the box holding Ford into the back seat.  Ford waited for Banjo to sit next to him.  His heart sank as Banjo opened the passenger’s side door and sat up front with Stan instead.  Even without saying a word, his change in behavior spoke volumes. Ford curled up tighter, a soft whimper escaping from him.

              He’s furious. With me.

[ninjastormhawkkat]

Ngl I kinda had an idea at one point

Where Angie was just around preportal incident helping the portal get build. XD

Fiddleford was wondering who this person was helping them out

And stanford just slipped out and said "oh uh Angie is my daughter"

He didn't question it

💀Im wheezing remembering that old idea

lol yes Ford just says it so bluntly. Angie

Fiddleford

[scurvyboy]

Thabk god you remember old man mcgucket is bald! Everyone gives him hair and it drives me up the wall (especially since the art is still really good it's just this one detail making me angy)

for real. i really don't know why people have trouble drawing bald/old people, but it's a pet peeve of mine as well. i think a lot of people who do that just don't draw from real life as much, which isn't an entirely bad thing, but i do think it impairs ones knowledge of how hair loss works. i drew mostly older models for figure studies and draw from a lot of live action media, so it comes easier to me; but i have noticed that people with a style that's less rooted in that have less confidence in making character bald. i think all artists who draw mcgucket should be made to draw pictures of naked old men for a month like me.

[ao3feed-twiyor]

Omniscient Academy

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/fKbnGov by PlanetaryProblem, Rant_Aro “ Nakime has gathered all of the staff in her office. “Okay. What should we name this academy?” “Howza ‘bout we name it Tomfoolery Academy?” Stan sipped some cola. “Eh, sounds boring.” Tengen crossed his arms. “What about ‘The Academy of Flamboyance?’” “Absolutely not.” Fiddleford shook his head. “We should name it somethin’ meanin’-ful.” “Oh! So Meaningful Academy it is!” Kyojuro laughed, completely serious. Kaigaku facepalmed. “We’re stuck with a bunch of idiots, Gyomei-nii.” “That’s not what I—…” Fiddleford facepalmed. “I suggest we name it something that means knowledgeable.” Ratio said. Gyomei hummed. “I see. What about ‘Omniscient’, all-knowing? Omniscient Academy has a nice ring to it.” Shinobu sighed in relief. “Finally, a good school name.” “That sounds nice.” Stanford nodded. “Let’s keep it that way.” “ OR WELCOME TO OMNISCIENT ACADEMY! Full of the weird, angst, and the crack (most definitely the angst and crack)! Rated T for Teens due to uncensored swearing and violence Words: 3525, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Series: Part 1 of Brain Rot School/Mafia Au Fandoms: Gravity Falls, 鬼滅の刃 | Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba (Manga), 鬼滅の刃 | Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba (Anime), 約束のネバーランド | Yakusoku no Neverland | The Promised Neverland (Manga), OMORI (Video Game), 原神 | Genshin Impact (Video Game), 崩坏：星穹铁道 | Honkai: Star Rail (Video Game), SPY x FAMILY (Anime), A Hat in Time (Video Game), Dangan Ronpa Series, Original Work Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Categories: Multi Characters: Stan Pines, Ford Pines, Fiddleford H. McGucket, Mabel Pines, Dipper Pines, Loid Forger | Twilight, Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess, Sunny (OMORI), Kel (OMORI), Basil (OMORI), Aubrey (OMORI), Hero (OMORI), Mari (OMORI), Snatcher (A Hat in Time), Queen Vanessa (A Hat In Time), Jesus "Soos" Alzamirano Ramirez, Uzui Tengen, Yonaga Angie, Douma (Kimetsu no Yaiba), Himejima Gyoumei, Kaigaku (Kimetsu no Yaiba), Kochou Kanae, Kochou Shinobu, Tamayo (Kimetsu no Yaiba), Rengoku Kyoujurou, Kamado Tanjirou, Agatsuma Zenitsu, Kanroji Mitsuri, Kanzaki Aoi (Kimetsu no Yaiba), Dr. Ratio (Honkai: Star Rail), March 7th (Honkai: Star Rail), Emma (The Promised Neverland), Lucas (The Promised Neverland), Ray (The Promised Neverland), Gilda (The Promised Neverland), Fujisaki Chihiro, Candy Chiu, Grenda (Gravity Falls), Tokitou Yuichirou, Sabito (Kimetsu no Yaiba), Tojo Kirumi, Hashibira Inosuke, Anya Forger, Other Character Tags to Be Added, Kamado Nezuko, Dori (Genshin Impact), Kibutsuji Muzan, Bill Cipher, Minor Original Character(s) - Character, Nakime (Kimetsu no Yaiba) Relationships: Everyone & Everyone, Loid Forger | Twilight/Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess, Sunny/Zenitsu, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Snatcher/Queen Vanessa (A Hat in Time), Pacifica Northwest/Dipper Pines, Fiddleford H. McGucket/Stan Pines Additional Tags: Way too many character tags help us, How Do I Tag, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Crack Treated Seriously read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/fKbnGov

[haberdashing]

An Unlikely Reunion

In an Anastasia AU, Angie and Lute McGucket reunite.

on AO3

Lute was not in the best of moods this afternoon. He had been rushed away from the royal residence-in-exile to go meet some woman who was claiming to be his little sister, and just as he had been about to arrive, had been told that the meeting was abruptly cancelled. It wasn’t the meeting’s cancellation that bothered him–he’d had enough imposters of his little sister come by to last a lifetime–but how what had been a promising day for relaxation was now ruined, and for nothing.

Still, bad mood or not, a prince doesn’t easily forget his manners, and when a young woman with honey-blonde hair approached him while sobbing ungracefully, Lute didn’t hesitate to help the poor woman out.

“Are you alright, madame?”

“I… I don’t know…” The woman shook her head before adding, clearly trying to suppress her sobs as she spoke. “I suppose it depends on what you mean by ‘alright.’”

“...care for a handkerchief and a stranger to listen to your woes, then?”

The woman snorted in amusement, which made a bubble of snot land on the ground. She was dressed nicely enough, but just the same, elegance didn’t seem to be her strong suit. “Sure, I might as well. Thank you.”

“Any time.” Lute offered the woman a handkerchief, which she accepted and began using to clean her face immediately, and the two walked together to a nearby bench and sat down there side by side.

“So, what’s wrong?”

“I just… I’ve been trying to find my family for so long, and now I’ve gotten close, and… and nothing. Not unless I want to wander all of Paris looking for them, anyway. If they’re even in Paris.”

Lute hummed to himself in quiet agreement. “I know the feeling. My family’s been split apart, too. It seems like that’s gotten all too common these days, with all the unrest that’s been happening in the world lately…”

“Yeah, you’re not wrong about that. And I’m sorry to hear that you’re in the same boat. I mean, I always kind of figured it was a lost cause in my case, but… well…”

“That doesn’t make it any easier, does it? You’ll always have that last little bit of hope.”

The woman let out a noise that was somewhere in between a sob and a laugh. “God, ain’t that the truth. I’ll always wonder what happened back then, even when my dreams of finding out the truth are getting crushed by the real world. Maybe it was naive of me to think that I could find out what happened, find one family in a city as big as Paris, and things would work out perfectly just like they do in storybooks…”

The woman stopped dabbing at her face with the handkerchief and instead crushed it in between her hands. She shook her head for a moment before looking up at Lute…

…and of all the imposters Lute had seen in the decade since losing his kid sister, he’d never seen anyone who looked quite as much as his lost Banji as this woman did.

“No.” Lute breathed. “No, I don’t think that was naive of you at all.”

“You’re too kind.” She patted at her face once more, hard enough that Lute was pretty sure her nose was real and not just a cheap prosthesis–apparently the McGucket nose was something that all the frauds hoping to claim the reward money knew to imitate one way or another, which was more than a little insulting, really. “Really, a girl like me shouldn’t be laying all her troubles on someone as nice-looking as you. Though I can probably trust you more than the last guy I thought I could trust… not that that’s saying much.” The noise she made was definitely meant to be a laugh this time, though it fell a little short of the mark.

“You’re fine. Honestly, I’m enjoying hearing what you have to say. You said you came to Paris to find your family–where are you from originally?”

“What, you want more peasant girl gossip?” The girl laughed a little at her own joke, and this one sounded almost genuine. “Well, alright. I’m originally from a little town in Russia–don’t even ask the name, trust me, everybody butchers it and nobody’s heard of the place. But I came here from St. Petersburg–going there might’ve been my first mistake, really–and so did Daisy here.”

Lute honestly hadn’t noticed the little dog that was following the woman around until she gestured towards the pet. “Daisy?”

“Yeah. She’s a stray–like myself, I suppose. I named her after my favorite flower. Daisies are so bright and sunny… I’d like to think I’m the same way, but I’m not even sure who I really am anymore.”

Banji had always liked daisies, too. She kept picking them out of the palace gardens and pressing them into her books. Maybe the similar face really was more than a coincidence…

“How did you get here? Boat, plane, train…?”

“A mix, really. It’s funny, I almost fell off the boat I was on, and yet I still hate trains more than boats. Something about trains just gives me the willies, always has since I was a little girl.”

Sally had always said that Banji fell off of the train, that she just barely hadn’t caught her daughter’s hand in time…

This time, Lute offered up something that he knew was a trap, though he wouldn’t be heartbroken if the offer was taken to be genuine, either. “Do you want to come have tea with me? I know you said you’re just a peasant girl–perhaps you’d want to try your first bite of caviar? It would be my pleasure.”

The woman–Lute tried not to think of her as Banji–wrinkled her nose in disgust. “That’s very nice of you to offer, but I’ve never cared for caviar. It’s funny, I’m fine with steak or chicken, but when it’s fish, frogs, lizards… I’d rather watch critters like that squirm around in the wild than eat them.”

Lute had known that Banji didn’t like caviar–she’d spit them out when she’d first tried them, and later attempts at getting her to eat them were only marginally more successful–but with the mention of critters, Lute remembered the one time a frog had gotten into the palace, how Banji had beamed with delight and followed the amphibian around while many other residents were doing everything in their power to avoid the creature.

“Besides, though you’ve been very sweet to this stranger in need, I don’t even know your name.”

“I don’t know yours, either.” Lute retorted before he could stop himself.

“Oh, it’s Angela–Angie for short. Last name’s… more complicated, I always dreamed I’d get my real one when I found my family, or at least remember what my family name used to be, or else I’d get adopted and take my new family’s name, but no dice there. There’s something listed for it on my paperwork, but I’ve never liked it much anyway.”

Angie sounded a lot like Banji, enough that the similarity had come up even in the royal household, and Angela was a common enough name to be gotten from Angie. Had Banji forgotten everything–including, apparently, not only being royalty, but even her family name–after falling from the train, and been given a new name by whoever found her? And if so, then she’d been raised as a peasant girl, hoping fruitlessly to get adopted over the years… if that were true, it was a sad story indeed.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Angie. My name is Lute.”

“Luke, you said?”

Lute grimaced slightly, but didn’t correct her. Her genuine reaction to hearing his name mattered more right now than his frustration at having his name get confused with a more commonplace one once again.

“I’ve always liked the name Luke… come to think of it…” Angie closed her eyes, humming softly to herself and rubbing one hand against Daisy’s fur. “I think I used to play hide-and-seek with somebody named Luke.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, he… he kept trying to hide behind the curtains, but he wasn’t quite skinny enough for it. The curtains would always bulge out when he was hiding behind them. I… I think Luke was his name, but it’s hard to remember...”

…that had been Lute’s hiding place as a child, when he’d played hide-and-seek with his sister.

“And you? Where did you hide?”

Angie opened her eyes, which were the same color as Banji’s had been. “Oh, under big furniture, mostly. Under beds, tables, desks… anywhere I could squeeze myself under that most kids wouldn’t even think to try. I was small back then, too; it has its advantages.”

…and that had been Banji’s modus operandi when playing.

“But you can’t really want to hear me blather on about my childhood like this, right? Thank you for helping calm me down some, but I’m sure we’d both better get going.”

Lute nodded dumbly; he wanted to stay and talk to this mysterious Angie more, but he knew his manners well enough, knew when he was being told that it was time to leave.

“If you insist. But really, miss Angie, it has been a pleasure getting to know you.”

As Lute stood up, Angie shot him a sad, sweet smile. “Right back atcha.”

[vulpixen]

I know I have been mostly quiet due to life stuff, but I’m still around and have been taking care of things. In between I have written drabbles inspired by @thelastspeecher and @darfichihrenhundstreicheln ‘s aus. Including the ones we and @haberdashing @bluestuffeh and @nour386 have had lots of talks about in discord. 

I have written drabbles about my interpretation of Wendy’s mom and Dan’s late wife Bethany Hickok-Corduroy that I’ll be glad to share with everyone. 

The first drabble takes place in an au of an au called Angiewolf AU, but in this version called Dimensional Wolves, Stan and Angie disappear due to a mishap with the portal they’ve been trying to repair for six years after Ford was pushed into the portal. Now, it’s up to Dan and his wife to look after their kids Molly (of whom belongs to @agent-jaselin ) Danny, Daisy, Emmett, Emily, Caleb and Cadenza. Including young Tate as well for the next ten years until the parents and Ford return home. And in this, Mrs. Corduroy is a werewolf but not Dan. This drabble takes place not long after Stan and Angie disappeared and inspired from the song ‘Somewhere Out There’. Hope you all enjoy!

___________________________________________________________

It was almost quiet in the wooden home where eight young children were asleep in their respective beds in their shared room. Except for one of the triplet girls, age eight, with brown hair named Molly. She knew it was the perfect time to make her escape from the house as she carefully placed enough plastic play boxes right under the window that lead outside. Doing her best to be quiet, Molly climbs up the boxes, and opens the window on her own. Molly smiles as she smells the night air, closing the window behind her, leaving behind her triplet sisters, Danny, Daisy and the younger quadruplets, Cadenza, Emmett, Emory, and Caleb, along with her cousin Tate.

Molly was on a mission: to find her missing parents when she feels she could not rely on her caregivers to do it. She changes into a wolf and scurries into the night of the forest.

In the master bedroom, the young adults at age twenty, Dan Corduroy and his wife Bethany Hickok-Corduroy were doing their best to get what sleep they can after patrolling the territory that Angie once did a few months ago, before her and her husband Stan seemed to vanish without a trace and left behind all their children and everything else.

Dan loudly snores, but Bethany was sound asleep. That is until a stray goose feather sticking out of the pillow tickles the young woman’s nose, causing her to rise and sneeze so loud, it woke up Dan as he yelps.

“AHHH!” Dan lets out a tired sigh. “Oh, it’s only you, Sunflower. Real big sneeze there.” He lightly pats Bethany’s dark red head, her long hair reaching down to her lower back.

“These pokey goose feather pillows aren’t doing it for me.” Bethany lets out a big yawn.

“Here, I’ll switch with you, hun,” offers Dan, switching his cotton stuffed pillow for her goose feather one.

Bethany shows a content smile as she goes back to resting her head, mumbling, “You’re the best, my Manly Man…”

Their moment of quiet was disturbed when a small but audible pounding was heard at the door. Two small voices crying out.

“Dan! Bethany! You gotta help!” Those voices being Danny and Daisy panicking.

Dan and Bethany immediately leave the bed and open the door to see the worried kids in front of them.

“Girls, what happened?” asks Dan as he knelt to their height.

“It’s Molly!” starts Daisy.

“She’s gone!” finishes Danny.

The couple’s eyes widen, afraid of what could have happened to Molly while running through many worse case scenarios within seconds. They knew the little girl was acting out, not having adjusted well since Stan and Angie disappeared and been defensive and snappy towards Dan and Bethany. Molly needing time to adjust to the sudden change like all of them are.

“Wait, what?” Bethany then asking. “Girls, what happened?”

“We saw the blocks and… I think she opened the window and left,” frowns Daisy as she and Danny lead their caregivers to their room with the rest of the younger kids. “I think I know why…”

“To find your parents,” mutters Bethany, briefly looking to the unlocked window and the moonlight shining through the glass, her expression crestfallen thinking back to Molly’s outburst from earlier she screamed she hated her and Dan for not having looked hard enough. Bethany knew she was just upset for how long her parents have been gone, but it still stung her heart. Her and Dan have been doing the best they can for the kids.

The quadruplets were now awake and upset to having been woken late at night. Tate whimpering in his own bed. Dan immediately scoops up the boy and the toddlers in his big arms and sits with them on one of the small beds to console them.

“Shh, shh… All ya get back to sleep. Bethany is gonna find Molly and bring her home.” Dan speaks in a much softer voice than normal. “How ‘bout I tell you all a story?” This got the toddlers and Tate smiling, even a little. Dan gives a nod to his wife, able to handle the younger kids while Bethany, Danny and Daisy ran out the front door.

Bethany did not protest Danny and Daisy coming with her, figuring they want to help find their triplet sister before something or someone were to find Molly before they do. She does not blame them one bit.

Bethany shifts into her tall, dark red furred wolf form as she bounds into the forest, catching Molly’s scent as Danny and Daisy changed into their own brown wolf forms in following their caregiver, but with their short legs, they couldn’t keep up with the grown wolf. Seeing this, Bethany allows the two girls onto her back to ride.

Meanwhile, Molly was having no luck in sniffing out for her parents in the known places in the forest she remembers taking her and her sisters to. In her wolf form, she scratches at the ground, leaving deep marks within the grass and leaves in frustration and screams at the sky.

“HOW IS IT THIS HARD TO FIND THEM?!” Molly lets out an audible howl that makes the birds in the nearby trees fly off in fright. “MOM! DAD! WHERE ARE YOU?! … Why did you leave us… why did you leave me?”  

Molly keeps digging at the ground for no reason but to vent the grief, inner pain, and anger at herself in believing she failed her parents and those around her failed them too. At this moment, despite having been taught not to make too much noise at night alone, she paid not heed as she wails and sheds streams of tears from her eyes and the mucus from her nose dripping. She gets dirt on her face while lying her head in the patch she made in the ground, choking up.

Molly hears the rustling of bushes nearby; she hiccups and becomes alert to the new presence and scent. She was not alone. From within the bushes she can see in the dark was a tall, rogue grey werewolf approaching her, showing his fangs and fur raised at the young pup before him. Molly’s eyes widened in fear, immediately changing into her wolf form, hoping it would make the rogue least likely to attack her now.

The grey werewolf pauses, seeing Molly was a werewolf, but it did not fully stop him from going after her, smelling she is one of the Mother Wolf’s pups he can tell. Him having been persistent for over a year in claiming the territory for himself and his own pack he aims to have. Starting with driving off the pup.

Molly mentally screams at herself to run away and does so while the older werewolf gives chase. The pup zigzagging, running through the woods and into a small hollow tree where the werewolf was biting and clawing away wood to reach her. When the rogue manages to stick his head through the trunk to snap at Molly, she musters up the courage and bites at his snout, causing him to yelp and back away, drawing blood.

Before the rogue could think about going after the pup, he was in for a world of hurt when he feels sharp teeth of a tall red wolf grip around his neck, not piercing through, but it still stung.

“GET AWAY FROM HER, YOU BITCH!” Bethany’s inner thoughts roared in her head as she was about to make the rogue regret ever stepping foot into Angie’s territory.

Bethany hits the wolf hard against a nearby tree several times until the tree snapped in half and flung the hapless werewolf out into the deeper woods through the air. She lets out a victorious howl, letting all know who the new alpha of Angie’s territory is until her return one day. She sniffs the area to find Molly coming up to her and her sisters who ran up to them when it was safe again.

Bethany reverts to her human self as she knelt to hug Molly in a tight embrace as did Danny and Daisy to their sister, having been scared for her safety.

“Molly!” cheer Daisy and Danny.

Molly breaks down into tears again, choking up. “I’m… I’m sorry! I’m sorry I ran off and almost got hurt… I wanted to find Mom and Dad and… I can’t find them. I didn’t mean it when I said I hated you and Dan… Are you mad at me?”

“I’m only glad you’re not hurt. I was so scared you’d end up harmed or worse by that rogue, Molly.” Bethany’s tone was soft, not angry for what Molly did. She knows she is hurting like everyone else has been since Stan and Angie have been gone. “We know you’re just upset, kiddo. Me and Dan are sorry we can’t find them.”

“It was still pretty mean to say,” acknowledges Danny about what Molly said from earlier, shuffling her feet in place. “I miss our parents too, but if we can’t find them here, then they must be somewhere else.” “Maybe they’re lost, too,” adds in Daisy.

Bethany lets out a short breath, taking a brief pause to look towards the sky before focusing back on the girls. “Me and Dan may or may not have an idea of where they could be.” The triplet girls face Bethany with their full attention. “There’s something me and Dan will tell you in the morning, and about what we’re going to do for all you kids, but you girls need your sleep.”

The triplets let out a collected “Ah, man…” before they comply with Bethany, returning home with hours to spare before the sunrise. On the way, Molly eyes up the starry night sky, wondering if her parents are looking at the same stars like in a song she heard recently.

Somewhere out in the multiverse, Angie and Stan look at the stars in silent contemplation, wondering when and if they will ever get home and hug each one of their children again.

[agent-jaselin]

I was thinking Stangie in my Superhero/villain AU? If you’d like specifics, maybe them on a park date or in the hospital on the day Danny and Daisy are born?

the lone Mcgucket watches from afar

[brightdrawings]

Stanford McGucket (3/?)  Fitting in

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Stanford messed up his brother’s chances of getting a scholarship and is now living out of the local library. Surviving with little to no plan Until a kind Southern couple offer him a chance to start over.

(an au of @thelastspeecher‘s Stanely McGucket au)

 Also on ao3!

“And after Bessie comes Buttercup, Bertha, Bob, Billy, Bethany, and Bella.” Angie said.  She pointed out each cow as she spoke. She had an arm draped on Bessie’s neck, the other held the fence of the pasture. Her legs kicked as she sat from her perch on top of the fence.

“I feel like there’s a story behind those names,” Stanford yawned. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and leaned against the fence.

“It’s nothing too amazing,” Angie said. “Ma just named her first heifer Bluebell and the first-er- darn it.”

“What’s the matter?” Stanford asked. He looked away from the grazing cows to face Angie.

“I forgot the word for like a boy cow, but like Brandon wasn’t a bull, ‘cause he was castrated, there’s a word for a cow when they’re like that,” Angie said. She snapped her fingers as she thought. “It’s like-the only thing that’s comin’ to my mind is that it’s close to the word for like guiding something.”

“Er-lead?” Stanford offered.

“Nah-they weren’t dogs,” she said. Her fingers lightly drummed on Bessie’s neck.

“Um-hmm herd-no that doesn’t sound right.”

“No it like starts with-oh that’s it!” Angie said excitedly. “It was Steer! Brandon was her first steer! The first two cows were named Brandon and Bluebell.”

“Brandon and Bluebell?” Stanford asked, “and ever since then your family signed a secret pact to name every cow you come to own from then to the end of time a name beginning with ‘B’?”

“Wouldn’t call it a pact, but we do find it funny,” Angie replied. She lightly patted Bessie’s snout. “You could say it’s an inside joke.”

“Yes that would be a more reasonable description,” Stanford agreed.

“So as I was saying, when you get used to waking up earlier. We’ll start getting you to help with milking the beautiful dames of this pasture.” Angie said. “Now let’s go see the horses.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, I’ll get used to waking up early soon enough.” Stanford assured. He tried and failed to stifle a yawn. “If I’m going to be a farm hand worth his salt I’ll need to get used to early mornings in any case.”

“Worth your salt?” Angie asked. She hopped off her perch and stood next to Stanford.

“In the days before currency was measured in metal and paper, it was often measured in spices. And salt was considered very-uh-pricey? No um-it was considered to have a lot of worth. So soldiers that were paid in salt had to work very hard so that they could be considered ‘worth their salt.’” Stanford explained.

“Wow really? I didn’t know that. I thought money was always a thing that people used, just changing like. Shiny rocks for us, less shiny rocks for the people before us, and so on.” Angie said. She led the way to the barn.

“You aren’t wrong, it’s just that-well you know how when someone does a job they’re paid in money?” Stanford said, rolling his hands as he spoke.

“Yes. That’s how jobs normally work.” Angie replied.

“And how you can exchange the money you earn for good and services?” Stanford asked.

“Services?” Angie asked.

“Getting your hair cut and visiting the carnival,” Ford explained. “Well sometimes people skip the middleman of the money and give their employees the food and services directly.”

“Like when Ma and Pa let me and my sibs have as many apples as we want after we help with harvest?” Angie asked.

“Yes exactly.” Stanford said happily. “And other times, with that salt example I gave earlier, they add another step to collecting the money. A more modern equivalent would be paying someone with a cheque.”

“’Cause those have to be traded in at the bank?”

“You catch on fast.” Stanford said.

“I wouldn’t be in junior year if I couldn’t.” Angie grinned back.

“Juni-but you’re two years younger than Lute. That wouldn’t make sense unless-you skipped a grade?”  

“Yep!” Angie said grinning proudly.

“That’s impressive” Stanford said. He ignored the twist in his stomach. “You must have done a lot of studying.”

“It wasn’t too much trouble, the fact that I had had so many siblings that went through the same curriculum before me is what gave me the boost to get so far ahead.” Angie said. “I’d sometimes sit with Fidds and Lute to help them their work.”

“Really?” Stanford said. He could feel his jaw loosen, ready to slam into his toes.

“More like be a wall for them to bounce ideas off of,” Angie admitted. She skipped to the barn door. “You shoulda seen the way their eyes light up when they figure out the solution to whatever math problem had been holding them back.”

“Oh-still, that’s a rather useful thing to do. I’d imagine having someone to talk to about a problem would help straighten out one’s thoughts.” Stanford followed her to the barn door.

“Yeah ‘cause they’d have to explain what the problem was in the first place, so I’d be getting tutoring for things I was going to learn later down the road real early. And by the time they explained the whole thing they’d either have already figured out a solution or would be halfway there.”

“Sounds like you’re a natural helper. Which brother would chase you out of the room for annoying him?” Stanford said. His mouth quirked up into a mischievous grin.

“Stanford how could you possibly imply such a thing?” Angie gasped in mock offence. “I’m renowned as the family angel, why would I do such a thing to my beloved brothers?”

“Laying it on a little thick aren’t you?”

“The skit’s still a work-in-progress. And to answer your question, both. Fidds more than Lute, but that was because he gets stressed real easy like. Anyway-”Angie said. She stood straight and deepened her voice like a showman presenting a prize on a quiz show and pointed her arm towards the horse stables. “Allow me to introduce you to the most beautiful gals on the farm.”

Stanford followed her hand and caught sight of a couple of long brown faces standing in the stalls that lined the wall of the barn. “Horses?”

“Not just any horses! Top of the line equines bred on this here farm.” Angie grinned walking along the stalls, five long heads poked out as she spoke. “First we have our one and only stallion, Jesse. He and Tuesday over here are our chestnuts.” she pointed her hand in a presenting manner towards a pair of horses with reddish brown coats and manes.

“Nexgz-bleh wait-lemme start over.” she said quickly, clearing her throat, “Next we have Carla and her little foal Cinnamon.” The smaller horse neighed at the mention of her name, trying her best the reach over the stall door. The effort earned her a pet along her short black mane from

Angie.

“Isn’t she adorable?” Angie asked before walking along. “And last, and most certainly not least, we have the award winning Daisy!” Angie said, shaking her hands in the direction of the cream coated horse. Cocking her head to the side, Daisy whinnied while shaking her head, showing off her light coloured man and spotless coat. “Ma an’ Pa got her for me for my birthday when I was real small. I’ve been taking her to shows and winning ever since I could ride,” Angie added proudly.

“She does have a rather well kept coat.” Stanford said, adjusting his glasses to get a better look. He noticed several different coloured ribbons that adorned Daisy’s stall. Blue first place ribbons were displayed proudly near the top of the stall, with the lower ranked ribbons placed beneath them, making an interestingly pair of colour trails that lead down the stall front. The ribbon trails met together at one ribbon that Stanford didn’t recognize. It had cream as its main colour, with white, blue and red highlights. Like the other ribbons, it had a circle of reflective fabric as its centrepiece, with the actual ribbon being woven around it like a flower, ending in two tails beneath. Taking a closer look, Stanford noticed that the central fabric had ‘Best little sister’ stitched in rather crudely; as though the sewer was still learning the ways of using a needle and thread.

“Lute an’ Fidds made that one for me” Angie said, following Ford’s line of sight. “I came home feelin’ a bit sour after my first horse riding comp. I didn’t win, obviously. “She said, now leaning against the side of Daisy’s stall. “Hard to come out on top for something you’re doing for the first time. My family were supportive, but I still took it kind of badly.”

“It’s an understandable reaction,” Stanford said. “You were rather young at the time, if this ribbon’s appearance is any indication.”

“I’m still young!” Angie shot back.

“I meant younger,” Stanford replied. “I wear glasses but I’m not blind.”

“They’d be kinda pointless if you were,” Angie said. “Anyway, where was I? Right, I ended up bawling my eyes out into my pillow that night. But then I heard a knock at my door. But no one was there when I went to answer it,” Angie said. “Instead I found two of that ribbon on the floor. Turned my mood right on its head right then, believe you me. I wore that ribbon for a week straight before finally hanging it from my bed frame.”

“That makes it match with Daisy’s,” Stanford observed.

“Yep!” Angie said happily.

“Your brothers really do love you don’t that?” he said, looking to the tattered ribbon.

“It’s what family does best.” Angie replied.

In that moment, Stanford could have sworn he had heard the sound of someone squealing in pain, ever so faintly. But before he could address his observation he felt something furry rub against his leg. Stanford let go of what he heard ‘probably one of the horses’ he thought as he looked down to his new companion. “And who might you be?” he asked.

“That’s Salmon.” Angie said. She bent down to pet the orange tabby. “Aren’t you a little darling?” she cooed. “We have another cat, Tuna, he shouldn’t be too far away, and I think I saw him earlier.”

Standing up, Angie walked around the barn calling out for the other cat. It took a few minutes before the grey cat trotted into the barn, the fur around his mouth red and slightly damp. “There you are. Back fresh from the hunt?” Angie asked, walking up to the cat. Tuna lightly head butted her leg before rubbing the side of his head and eventually the rest of his body against her.

“Hunt?” Ford asked.

“Yes, these little beasts help keep the mice from getting into our crops,” Angie replied, giving Tuna a scratch behind the ears.

“I-” Stanford stared at Salmon, who had flopped onto his foot as though it were a bed. “Don’t get me wrong, I know the whole cat and mouse tale. But I find it hard to believe that Er-Salmon?”- Angie nodded- “Salmon is the type to strike fear into the hearts of mice.”

“He’s just trying to act all cutesy to ya so that he can weasel treats outta you later on.” Angie grinned, walking over. “You want to hold him?”

“I-is it alright if I did? Wouldn’t I get my clothes dir-” Stanford blushed, realising himself.

“We keep ‘em clean, don’t worry. The worst you’ll get is some fur on your shirt.” Angie said, scooping up the orange puddle that was Salmon, “unless you’re allergic to cats or fur, you’ll be fine,” she smiled.

“I-I don’t remember having any allergies, feline, fur based or otherwise,” Stanford said. He watched as Angie picked up Salmon from below its front legs. The cat’s body hanged lazily; his tail curling up between his hind legs.

“Perfect.”  Angie grinned, offering the cat to Ford.

Hesitating for a moment, Stanford recalled the way his aunts had taught him how to hold his infant cousins. With a careful hand, he reached forward and placed a hand under the cat’s behind and the other behind its shoulders. Interested at his technique, Angie let go of that cat, allowing Stanford to hold that cat against his chest as though it were a baby. Salmon stared up at him, taking in his features, before blinking slowly.

“Aw he likes you,” Angie cooed.

“You think so?” He asked, wearing an ear-to-ear grin.

“He hasn’t tried to run from you or scratch you,” Angie said. “So I’d say that that’s strong evidence to him likin’ you.”

Stanford’s smile was cut short by Salmon batting at his nose as though it were a toy. “How dare you,” he said flatly, staring the cat down.

Angie laughed hysterically as the cat reached for Ford’s nose again.

“You know, it never occurred to me that they’d use a truck to get mail out here,” Stanford said. He watched the mail van drive down the road from the window above the kitchen sink. He was elbow deep in soapy dishwater, hands working away at cleaning off the syrupy remains on the dishes.

“Well they sure as shine ain’t gonna walk all the way out here,” Sally joked. She leafed through a thick set of letters. Her eyes scanned the envelopes and fingers cycling through them quickly. The set until she had read the entire pile in less than a minute. Stanford tried his hardest to not stare as she sorted through the letters. Sally placed the letters into several piles on the kitchen table. ‘Probably to the addressee,’ Stanford thought before turning back to the dishes.

“I mean, they could in theory, but they’d probably have to dedicate a specific mailman for your mail,” Ford said after a cough.

“As nice as that sounds, I’d hate to be the poor son of a gun who’d have to walk out here during the summer scorchers we have comin’ up,” Sally smiled.

“But that’d be their job wouldn’t it? They wouldn’t complain because that’s their lot in life right?” Ford asked. He put the last dish onto the drying rack.

“I doubt that’d be a reason for someone to not be happy with their lot in life,” Sally said. She handed Stanford a dish towel.  “Grumblin’ about things seldom got anyone anywhere in life, but that doesn’t mean you won’t want to. If I had to walk here from town every morning I know I’d be grumbling about my feet hurting until the next morning. But I wouldn’t waste my time grumbling, you gotta keep working hard.”

“So, complaining is okay as long as it’s used to motivate instead of procrastinate?” Stanford asked. He dried his hands on the towel in his pocket before taking the one Sally offered him.

“I’d say that sums it up about right,” Sally grinned. She reached out to ruffle the young man’s hair, but stopped herself. Instead she walked over to the table and picked up the mail, arranging the piles into a perpendicular stack to keep them separate. “When you finish come round to the sewing room would you Stanford?”

“Uh sure-wait wasn’t I supposed to be working in the garden today?” Stanford asked, pausing midway through scrubbing one of the larger dishes.

“I already told Angie to cover your gardening chores for today, you’ll be feeding the animals in her place,” Sally informed him.

“I see—then I’ll be with you in a few minutes.” He quickly finished drying up the plates and put them back in their proper cupboards. ‘Plates to the left, bowls to the right. Tall glasses up above for the tallings,’ he muttered, remembering the not-quite-rhyme that Fiddleford had taught him.

Placing the towel from his pocket on a chair as he walked past, Stanford made his way down the hall. He followed the gentle sounds of a motor and found himself in the sewing room. The room wasn’t very large, hardly any larger than the guest room if Stanford were to guess. It had a large desk against the wall nearest to the door, an assortment of fabrics and enough spools of thread of so many colours that a rainbow would be jealous. The middle of the table had a sewing machine as well as a rather comfortable looking chair. The rest of the room seemed to be used as storage, multiple closets and cardboard boxes lined the walls. Stanford could see the odd faded coat sleeve poking out from the closet door.

“You wanted to see me?” He asked as he stood by the door. He watched Sally carefully move something back and forth under the needle of the sewing machine.

“Ah, ya came a bit earlier than I thought,” Sally said. She didn’t look up from her work. “I’ll be done in a couple minutes, have yourself a seat,” she nodded towards a pile of boxes nearby.

Stanford parked himself on specified stack, noting how the boxes slightly gave way to his weight. As though he was not the first person to use them as a makeshift chair; and considering the lack of another chair in the room, he’d probably not be the last. Stanford played with the loose string on his shirt as he waited the few minutes for Sally to finish whatever she was working on.

“And finished,” Sally said happily. She raised her work into the air before turning to face Stanford. She beamed at him while offering her creation, a pair of custom made six-fingered gloves. “I made them from an old pair of Mearl’s, quickly try them on, I want to make sure I got the size right.”

Stanford stared at the gloves in his hands and felt breath hitch as he felt the slightly matted fabric in his hands. The first five fingers were grey with a pair of green pinkie fingers sewed on to the end. There was a large stitch across the palm. Stanford pulled the gloves on and flexed his fingers.

“How are they?” Sally asked.

“They’re a little tight here but apart from that they’re perfect,” Stanford said. He pointed along his knuckles to show where he was talking about. “The fabric kind of digs into my knuckles.”

“I’ll see what I can do for you,” Sally smiled. Stanford handed her the gloves and she got back to work. “This’ll take a while so you're probably best to get to feedin’ the critters.”

“Er— Right,” Stanford said. He walked over to the door before stopping. “Sa—Mrs. McGucket, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it Stanford,” Sally smiled.

A/N: this is a shorter and more bonding based chapter. Things will get a bit more plot heavy next chapter. Today was Angie’s turn in the spot light giving Stanford a more in-depth tour than the one he had last chapter. 

I hope you guys enjoyed reading!

[eregyrn-falls-art]

MerGucket AU! And a slightly-belated happy birthday to @thelastspeecher! (click to embiggen)

I really enjoy TheLastSpeecher’s AUs, and my favorite is probably the MerGucket AU and its various offshoots (see their work at the mergucket au tag here for an explanation).  I’ve been wanting to do art for it for a while (I did some portraits for it during Inktober), and this seemed like a good time to get off my butt and do it!  Thanks for all of the fun ideas and ficlets!

For all of the designs and details here, I’m completely indebted to @agent-jaselin‘s extensive work (see it at the mergucket au tag here).

[thelastspeecher]

Weird Little Critter - Chapter 5: Transitions, Part 2

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 AO3

Aaaaaaaaand here's part two! After a bit of a longer wait than initially anticipated whoops. Life got crazy. But the third part (again, not just by myself, but also @elishevart) should be up by the end of the year!

——————————————————————————————

              Banjo and Stan walked into the house while Ford waited outside for them to get ready for their short trip to the Crawlspace.

              "I'll get the cloaks Ford mentioned," Banjo said. Ford had told them he had some in a chest in his room, and they would be essential to hide their human features. Stan nodded and grabbed a quick snack from the kitchen. Banjo returned a few minutes later with two brown cloaks draped over his arm and a couple small bags in his hand.

              "I thought he said to get the green ones," Stan said, setting aside his now empty plate. Banjo's face twitched slightly.

              "Well, I figure this color will work better," he said. "Green lures fairies to ya, and we don't want much attention. Red repels 'em."

              "Those are brown," Stan pointed out. Banjo twitched again.

              "Yes, 'cause we don't want to keep fairies away either," he said firmly. "Stanford could very well have purchased that potion from one, after all."

              This seems like a touchy subject for him. Time to move on. Stan shrugged.

              "You know what you're talking about, so I'll do what you say." Banjo relaxed visibly. "Do you really think the cloaks will be enough?"

              "I grabbed some fake pointed ears, fairy dust, and my makeup bag," Banjo said. He set the items on the kitchen table.

              "You have makeup? I never see you wear any."

              "It ain't logical to wear in a field science, but I keep it around fer special occasions." Banjo glowered at his makeup bag. "But I'm not that good at applyin’ it, since I so rarely use it."

              "You're in luck. I started doing mine and Ford's Halloween monster makeup as soon as I could steal Mom's eyeliner," Stan said. He gestured to a chair. "Have a seat and let me work my magic on you."

              Ten minutes later, two “elves” exited the house.  Ford, who was looking morosely up at the full moon, gave them a silent nod.

              “Those disguises are suitable,” he said softly.  “Follow me to the Crawlspace.”

—--

              “Well, this is officially the weirdest place I’ve ever been to,” Stan said as the trio, with Ford in the lead, walked around the Crawlspace. “But not by much.” The place was filled with stands of all sorts selling either weird potions, parts of weirder animals, and even stranger plants.  Stan couldn’t help but be in awe.

              It’s like the stories from when I was a kid, about genies and caves full of jewels and gold.

              And if the stands were impressive, the sellers were on a whole other level. Monsters and other creatures from legends Stan had only ever heard of and some he never knew. He was pretty certain he spotted a giant toad in the back. At first he thought that was where Ford had gotten the potions, but his amphibious brother kept marching forward, although at a slow and unusual pace.  His unchanging low mood was beginning to concern Stan.

              Stan hadn’t had a chance to observe this side of his twin as much as Banjo had, but he had seen him as a salamander for a whole week.  And despite how frustrated Ford had been back then, he hadn’t looked nearly this… distraught. 

              Ford’s gills hung low on each side of his drooping head.  His tail trailed lifelessly behind him. He barely glanced at them to make sure they were still following him, as if he wouldn’t be surprised they weren’t. His whole form screamed “sad little puppy”, but even if Stan wanted to cheer him up, he wasn’t sure what to say. 

              Next to him, Banjo wasn’t doing much better. He was tense, constantly glancing left and right, as if he was expecting something to get the jump on them. Stan’s comment finally seemed to register to the twiggy man and he looked at Stan in confusion. 

              “Huh?” Banjo still looked uneasy, but the shadow of a smile crossed his face. “You mean an underground market filled with all sorts of magical creatures is somethin’ ya came by already?”

              “Well not exactly like this,” Stan hedged. He leaned in closer to Banjo. The sweet smell of Banjo’s perfume filled Stan’s nostrils, almost distracting him from what he was saying. “But you should see some back alley marketplaces.  The real shady ones look pretty close to this.” Stan looked down and ahead. Ford was a few paces in front of them, still leading them towards their ultimate destination. “So… you doing okay?”

              Banjo took a deep breath. “I think so… still shaken up.”

              "By everything?”

              It took a moment before the southerner answered. During the pause, Stan saw him looking at Ford’s back before speaking. “Yeah, everything.”

              Stan sighed. No matter what he said the tension between the trio, especially Ford and Banjo, was still as high as it was an hour ago. Stan just shoved his hands in his pockets, glancing around as they continued walking. He raised an eyebrow when he saw a weird gray stripe running along Ford’s back. 

              Huh, that wasn’t there before. Banjo was looking directly at Ford and didn’t seem phased, so he shrugged it off. If he isn’t worried, must not be something new. 

              A few minutes later, they stopped before a vendor with vials and potions of all sorts. Ford stopped, sniffed the air, and turned toward them. 

              “Here,” Stanford whispered. The sound came out more like a chirp than a proper word.  He then stepped to the side to sit on his hind legs, his tail circling him. A few more gray streaks popped into existence across his skin as he idly looked at the ground. 

              Banjo walked up to the counter and cleared his throat. 

              "Hello," Banjo said politely. The vendor, a man so short he needed to stand on top of a crate to look over his trestle table, looked at him with suspicion. Stan busied himself pretending to look at the produce being sold at the stall next door, staffed by tiny fluttering fairies. He looked down at a box of green and red berries, keeping an ear on Banjo's conversation, glancing at Ford every now and then to make sure he was still there.

              "What can I help you with?" the vendor asked, apparently deciding to treat Banjo like a regular customer.

              "My friend purchased a sex change potion from you the other day. I wanted some more information on it," Banjo said smoothly. Stan's eyebrows went up. Banjo's southern accent was completely gone.

              I didn't know he could drop it whenever he wanted. That's a good trick.

              "Oh, yeah, I remember him," the vendor said. He peered over his collection of vials and bottles to look at Ford. "Is he your pet?"

              "...Something like that," Banjo said after a moment's hesitation.

              "What sort of information do you want?"

              "Is there an antidote?" Banjo asked. The vendor laughed.

              "I'm not selling poisonous berries like the pixies next door!" he said. Stan quickly dropped the berry he had picked up. "My products don't need antidotes. That potion in particular is short-lasting, with effects that vary depending upon dosage. So, no, there's no 'antidote'. It'll just wear off in time."

              "Got it." Banjo smiled at the vendor. "Thank you. Slán." The vendor seemed taken aback for a moment before smiling.

              "Slán. And feel free to send your pet on errands to my stand any time you want," the vendor said cheerfully. Banjo nodded. He stepped away from the stand, joining Stan by the berries. Stan frowned at him.

              "What?" Banjo asked.

              "What did you just say to him?"

              "Oh, that was just goodbye in Irish," Banjo said with a shrug. "I clocked that he was a púca immediately. Did ya see his ears and tail?"

              "What?" Stan looked back at the vendor. Sure enough, the man had black tufted ears that blended in with his hair and a long black tail like a lion's. "How'd you know what he was?"

              "My Pa's family is from Ireland. Pa passed down the oral history to us, such as the tales of faeries, or the aos sí. The púca is one such bein’."

              "You know Irish."

              "A bit. Enough to impress people but not enough to communicate in it." Banjo looked down at the berries Stan had been pretending to be interested in. "The púca said these were poisonous."

              "Only the unripe ones!" said one of the shimmery fairies manning the stall. "The ripe ones are heavenly! A single one fills you up better than a three course meal!"

              "Really?" Stan asked. The fairy nodded. Stan looked at Banjo. "Wanna get some berries?"

              "Which ones are ripe?" Banjo asked.

              "The red ones," the fairy replied. Banjo stared at the berries, ripe and unripe mixed in the same container, with panic on his face. After a moment, he cleared his throat.

              "No, we should just head home. It's not wise to accept food from the Fair Folk anyways," he said. The fairy crossed her arms, scowling.

              "How rude!"

              "Come on," Banjo said.  He walked away, heading back in the direction they had come from.  Stan quickly caught up. Stanford, who had curled up on the ground, sprung to his paws and trotted up to them. 

              “Well, that was a bust,” Stan said. “Guess Ford was right. You’re stuck like that for at least two more days.” Stan glanced back to see if said twin was following them. 

              As Banjo talked with the vendor, Stan had watched his twin on the ground turn more and more gray. So much so that by the end, when they decided to just leave, Ford was completely gray, lacking almost all color. Now, the big salamander was slowly following them on all fours, his head, gills, and tail still low. 

              “Yeah well, better safe than sorry,” Banjo grumbled. “I mean, if yer goin’ to sell sex changin’ potions, surely you’d have a counter potion or an antidote or somethin’.”

              “Yeah, but the effects are temporary and change depending on the dose you take.” Stan’s parroting of what the vendor had said earned a surprised look from Banjo. “What? I listened, I wasn't just trying to pickpocket anyone or anything that walked by.” Banjo raised an eyebrow. 

              “Did ya…?”

              Stan shot him his best smile. “What do you think?” He opened his hand to reveal a few golden coins and gems.  All looked genuine to Stan’s admittedly amateur eye. “I’m surprised Sixer didn’t try to stop me.” Stan nodded at Ford behind them. He frowned. His twin had stopped for a few seconds to lick some water from a puddle. “You think he’s okay?”

              ”I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Banjo’s voice was tart, prompting an apologetic chirp from Stanford. 

              “Does he usually walk on all fours?” 

              “Why don’t you ask him?” Banjo snapped.

              ”Since I’ve known him most of my life, he doesn’t like when I ask him questions about himself,” Stan joked. He shot Banjo his most charming smile, but only earned an eye roll in return. “And…since I know him so well, here’s something you should know about him. He’ll keep his feelings inside until they boil over or- or overwhelm him. I don’t know if you noticed, but he can be a bit of a drama queen and wallow in his own sadness. I’m the last person who wants to do actual ‘communication’, but…you two have to talk about what happened.”

              Banjo huffed and crossed his arms over his chest in annoyance. The walk was silent until the house came into view. Banjo stopped just outside of the front door.  His arms fell to his sides, his hands clenched into fists.

              “I’ll think about it.”  With that, Banjo opened the door and disappeared inside. 

              Stan sighed. A soft chirp came from below him. He looked down to see his gray little twin next to him, tilting his head curiously.

              “You’re not gonna get out of this, Sixer.  It’s a two-way street.  You’re gonna have to do something about it, too.”

              The axolotl looked down sadly and sighed before rubbing his head against Stan’s legs. The movement caught the human twin off guard. He was preparing to bend and pat Ford’s head when a loud rumble erupted around them. Stan raised an eyebrow. 

              “When‘s the last time you ate, Sixer?” He asked. 

              Ford looked guilty down, his tail wrapping around his legs. 

              Stan just shook his head and opened the door. “Let’s see what we have left for you. I think I saw some hornworm in the fridge.”

              At the word “hornworm”, Stanford shot to his feet and sprinted inside as fast as his four legs would carry him. From him came a series of chirps and noises that could be an attempt to speak, but sounded like gibberish to Stanley. 

              What is wrong with him?

—--

              Ford yawned as he made his way to the kitchen.  The night before had been even more draining than typical for a full moon.  Pre-coffee, he had barely enough energy to throw on a robe and brush his teeth after waking up in his tank in his study, fully human.  Stan, getting ready in his room, joined him when he walked past the open door.

              “So, uh, last night was kinda wild, huh?” Stan said.  Ford rubbed his eyes blearily.

              “I don’t recall much of last night.”

              “Yeah, you seemed pretty off.”

              “Yes,” Ford mumbled. 

“What's the last thing you remember?” Stan probed. Ford sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

              “Why are you interrogating me this morning?”

              “Just humor me,” Stan said.  Ford raised an eyebrow and thought for a moment. He stopped in the hallway. 

              “I remember us getting to the Crawlspace and the vendor. Banjo talked to him and…” He side-eyed Stanley.  “...You pickpocketed a few passersby that got too close.”  Stan snorted.

              “I’m surprised you didn’t stop me.”

              Stanford just shrugged and idly ran his fingers through the blue streak in his hair. “I didn't see the point. I don’t remember much after that. I recall us walking in the woods and coming back. I know you and Banjo talked, but I didn’t listen. Or I chose not to listen.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his robe. “You gave me some hornworms for dinner, then we rested on the couch for most of the evening. Did I miss anything?”

              Stan patted him on the shoulder, ushering him toward the kitchen with a big smile on his face. “Nah, just wanted to make sure.”  Ford frowned and removed his brother’s hand.

              “You’re not telling me everything. What happened?” Ford winced.  “What did I do?”  He didn’t like the knot forming in his stomach at the prospect of him missing some pieces.  Stan waved his concerns away.

              “You got enough on your mind as it is. Don’t worry, you did nothing wrong. I swear.”

              “I don’t have anything on my mind!” Ford protested.  Stan snickered.  Ford sighed and rephrased.  “Nothing weighs on me that would mean you have to hide anything, Stanley.”

              “Clearly.  So that means that you can handle a day with Banjo, no problem.”

              That horrible knot that had plagued Ford came back with a vengeance.  Ford hugged his sides.  He could feel bile rising in his throat.  It took all of his willpower to not vomit the few fluids he had in him. 

              His twin saw how distressed he had suddenly become and pulled him in for a hug. It didn’t take long for Ford to bury himself in his brother’s embrace. The gesture grounded and comforted him. They both stood in the middle of the hallway until Stan broke off the hug.

              “All right? Stan asked.  Ford nodded.  “Good. You do realize you’ve gotta pull yourself together and talk to him eventually, right?”

              ”I do,” Ford whispered.  He dragged his hand down his face. “I just- I feel that I’ve ruined things between us. I don't know if I can face him…”

              For more than one reason. Stan gave him a tap on the back of his head.

              “You dumb nerd. Don’t think too much! Just start apologizing. Then you guys can go from there.”

              “You’re certainly one to recommend an apology,” Ford muttered under his breath. Stan laughed.

              “Yeah, I tell people to do stuff I won’t do all the time.”  Ford rolled his eyes.  The two resumed their walk to the kitchen. Soon, they picked up on the sound of faint singing.

              “Country roads take me home, to the place I belong…”

              “Is that Banjo?” Stan asked.  Ford shrugged.

              “Either him or a stranger that has broken into the house to sing along to the country station.”  Stan snickered and elbowed him.  As they got closer to the kitchen, the singing grew louder. But the uncomfortable feeling in Ford’s stomach returned.  He stepped back. 

              “I’ll meet you two later. I just realized I forgot to go over some data,” Ford lied.  He quickly turned around and walked away, not giving Stan a chance to try to stop him.

              Stan just shook his head and entered the kitchen. Banjo, who in fact was singing along to the radio, stood at the stove cooking some eggs, a bug-filled container filled on the counter next to his pan. Stan grabbed it before any damage to the eggs could be done and shoved it in the cupboard.

              ”We won’t be needing those this morning. Ford needs to look over some data,” he said firmly.  Banjo pursed his lips.

              “Very well,” he muttered.

              “Yeah, I didn’t buy it, either,” Stan said. Banjo managed a small smile. “By the way, were you singing just now?”

              “Oh, uh, yes.”

              “It was nice.”  Stan leaned against the counter.  “How come I’ve never heard you sing before?”  To his surprise, Banjo blushed.

              “My, uh, my big sister, Violynn, she’s- she’s got the prettiest voice in the world.  She’s won awards!”  Banjo looked down at the pan and stirred the contents.  “But me?  Or, I s’ppose, Angie?  Not even close.”

              “You don’t sing as Angie ‘cause your sister’s better than you?” Stan asked.  Banjo rolled his eyes.

              “Well, I guess when ya say it like that, it does make me sound-” Banjo started.

              “No, I get it,” Stan interrupted.  “You’re not the only one who grew up with an older sibling better than you at something.”  Banjo smiled shyly at him.  “I bet you sound good as Angie, though.”  Banjo shook his head.  “Seriously, if you sound this good as Banjo, there’s no way you sound bad as Angie!”

              “You’d be wrong,” Banjo said firmly.  “I told ya.  I don’t sound good.”

              “I don’t believe you,” Stan said, just as firm.  Banjo rolled his eyes again.  “At the very least, you sound better than me.”

              “I’ve heard ya sing in the shower.  That ain’t a high bar.”  Banjo turned off the stove.  “Let’s move on from this topic and eat, okay?”

              They both sat in silence to eat their breakfast until Stan broke it.

              ”Okay, so you’ve known my twin while he’s been a magical whatever for a while. Has he ever acted weird before? As a salamander?”

              “Well…”  Banjo frowned thoughtfully.  “He always acts a bit odd.  I think it’s ‘cause it’s so strange to be a completely dif’rent species from what ya normally are.”  Banjo looked down at his plate and picked at his food idly.

              “Okay.”  Stan chewed a bite of scrambled eggs and swallowed.  “I know you weren’t worried about him turning gray last night, but-”  Banjo's head shot up.  He stared at Stan in horror.

              "What?!"

              "Last night, while we were in the Crawlspace, Ford went from pink to gray," Stan said.  Banjo’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.

              "He turned gray?" he croaked.  Stan frowned.

              "You didn't notice?"

              "Clearly!"  Banjo chewed on his lip.  "Changin’ color, that don’t bode well.  Unless he’s suddenly part chameleon or cuttlefish or somethin’.  Which we can’t rule out."

              “You were looking right at him, how did you not see it?” Stan pressed.  Banjo’s gaze dropped to his plate. He pushed around a piece of egg idly.

              “Nothin’, I- I must’ve been distracted or- or maybe the lighting in the Crawlspace…" he mumbled.

              "Nuh-uh. If I noticed, there's no way you shouldn't have," Stan said firmly.

              “I- I was upset,” Banjo said.  “Yesterday was dif’cult, I was- I was as blue as- as my shirt.”  Banjo sighed softly.  “I still am.  I wish Stanford weren’t avoidin’ me.  I want to put this all to bed.”  Stan raised an eyebrow.  Banjo’s shirt, an inoffensive button-down, was purple.

              So either he’s not actually sad, which he clearly is, or he doesn’t know what color his shirt is.  But how could he not know?  Stan thought back to the outfit Banjo had worn yesterday, a combination of orange and green.  I don’t know him as well as I’d like, but that seemed weird for him.  In addition, when Stan was doing their makeup yesterday, he stopped asking Banjo to grab items, as he kept selecting colors that didn’t go with their disguises.  I thought he was just being annoying, but maybe it was something more?  There was also that thing with the cloaks and the berries…

              “Uh, Stan?” Banjo asked hesitantly, clearly wary at how long it had been since Stan spoke.  Stan set down his fork.

              “I’m gonna take a shot in the dark here.  If I’m wrong, don’t laugh at me.”

              “Okay?”

              “Are- are you colorblind?” Stan asked.  Banjo froze.  Stan’s jaw dropped.  “Shit, you are!”

              “I- yes,” Banjo said weakly.  His head drooped.  “It runs in my fam’ly.”

              “Whoa.  I didn’t realize.”

              “I thought I was doin’ a good job hidin’ it,” Banjo moaned.

              “You were!  I didn’t notice until after you turned into Banjo!”

              “I weren���t colorblind until I became Banjo.”

              “Huh?”

              “Angie can see color just fine,” Banjo said.  Stan furrowed his brow.

              "How the hell is that possible?"

              “The specific kind of colorblindness that runs in m’ fam’ily is deuteranopia, a form of red-green colorblindness,” Banjo explained.  “It’s a sex-linked trait.  The gene involved is on the X chromosome.

              “Females have two X chromosomes.  If they’ve got one faulty version of the gene and one reg’lar version of the gene, they don’t got colorblindness, ‘cause the right version overrides the wrong one.”  Stan nodded.  “But males have one X chromosome, so if they’ve got the faulty version of the gene on that one X chromosome, they’ve got colorblindness.  So’s ya see this form of colorblindness more in men ‘n in women.”

              “So, when you’re Angie, you’ve got a regular copy and a bad copy,” Stan said slowly.  Banjo nodded.

              “That’s called bein’ a carrier, and it’s the only conclusion fer my sudden development of colorblindness.”  Banjo rubbed his forehead.  “Just my luck that the X chromosome what turned into a Y was the one what didn’t have colorblindness on it.  Ugh.”

              "Okay, so you can't see red, and pink is a kind of red," Stan said, "but you can see gray, right?"

              "Yes."

              "Then how come you didn't see Ford changing from not-gray to gray?" Stan asked.

              "Wh- because he already looked gray! Pink looks gray to me right now!" Banjo said, throwing his hands up in frustration. "Even before we went to the Crawlspace, Stanford looked gray. I just figured he wasn't ‘cause some of my clothes what are pink looked gray yesterday."

              "Huh.”  Stan picked up his fork again and poked a bit at his breakfast, mulling over what Banjo had said.  He locked eyes with the annoyingly attractive southerner.  “Why didn’t you tell us?  Were you embarrassed?  You don’t need to be.”  Banjo sighed.

              “I was a bit embarrassed, sure.  But it’s more that I didn’t really want to deal with it.  It’s at the bottom of my list of concerns.  I mean, I thought I was doin’ a good job hidin’ it!”

              “The orange and green yesterday did seem a bit outta character,” Stan said.   Banjo groaned.

              “Dangit!  I knew the flannel was orange, but I thought the shirt was red!”

              “Oh, man,” Stan said, poorly stifling a laugh.  “No, the flannel was green.  The shirt was orange.”  Banjo stared at him.

              “It was?!”

              “Yeah.”

              Banjo slammed his head on the table.  He groaned loudly.

              “I ain’t teasin’ Lute ‘n Harper fer bein’ colorblind ever again!” he declared.  Stan snickered.  Banjo’s shoulders began to shake.

              Shit, was I not “sensitive” enough?  Banjo might be a guy right now, but he’s usually a chick.  To Stan’s relief, he soon realized that Banjo was laughing, not crying.  Banjo lifted his head, his eyes lit up with mirth.  He grinned at Stan, his cheeks pink.

              “Those ‘re my colorblind brothers,” Banjo explained.  He leaned back in his chair, still grinning.  “Though I s’ppose right now I’m a colorblind brother, too.”

              “Think you could go fishing while colorblind?” Stan asked.  Banjo frowned.

              “I don’t see why not.  Why?”

              “It’s pretty obvious to me that Ford’s gonna hide in his room all day.  I don’t see the point in staying here just to sulk in separate rooms or whatever.”

              “...Oh.”  Banjo looked down at his emptied plate.  He sighed.  “Yeah, I think yer prob’ly right ‘bout Stanford’s plans fer today.  But I was really hopin’ to talk to him…”

              “You can talk to him when we get back.”  Stan got up.  He grabbed both his plate and Banjo’s.  Banjo blinked.

              “Back?  Back from where?”

              “Fishing, genius.”  Stan flicked Banjo’s nose playfully.  Banjo snickered at the action.

              Man, I love having someone around who’s got the same sense of humor as me.

              “Unless you wanna mope around all day,” Stan added.  Banjo shook his head.

              “No, I don’t want to waste the gorgeous weather.”  He grimaced.  “Even if I don’t like fishin’.”

              “You just think you don’t like it ‘cause you’ve never fished with me,” Stan said firmly, eliciting a soft laugh from Banjo.  Banjo stood up.

              “Just to dot our I’s and cross our T’s, I’ll go make sure Stanford don’t want to come with us.”

              “I think it’s a waste of time, but suit yourself,” Stan muttered as he brought the plates over to the sink.  He had just finished washing them when Banjo returned, looking crestfallen.  “Well?”

              “It’s just the two of us fishin’,” Banjo mumbled.  Stan nudged him.

              “Chin up, man,” he said.  “Trust me, we’ll have way more fun just the two of us.”  Banjo pursed his lips, clearly not convinced.  “And if we don’t, we’ll stop at the grocery store to pick up those weird popsicles you like.”  That got a smile from Banjo.  Banjo led the way out of the house.  Stan grabbed his car keys from the bowl on their way, grinning.

              Bribery.  It always works!

[melodythebunny]

Ford: no way I'm going to be in-laws with bill tho

Silly idea tho but yeah he would say that bc it's much simpler than explaining how two demons are helping lol

Also

It fits the normal human adopting non-human/eldritch being that way older as a child nicheCough cough Nate and wally cough

Ngl I kinda had an idea at one point

Where Angie was just around preportal incident helping the portal get build. XD

Fiddleford was wondering who this person was helping them out

And stanford just slipped out and said "oh uh Angie is my daughter"

He didn't question it

💀Im wheezing remembering that old idea

lol yes Ford just says it so bluntly. Angie

Fiddleford

[novantinuum]

@thelastspeecher I legit can’t stop thinking about that woofer au and making aus of your au hhrjfjfigo

but I waaaant to think of a way that perpetual full moon weirdmageddon could happen so we can have this badass werewolf family facing the apocalypse

so like what about,,,

an alternate version where ford- all paranoid and a wreck- goes through the portal same as in canon. Ford summoned Stan, who came alone. he and Angie have history already, i’m p sure... but she’s disappeared for the last few months.

a few weeks later, when Stan’s started working on fixing the portal, and just after the full moon... imagine his surprise when he finds Angie naked on the outskirts of Ford’s property, out in the middle of the forest. She shows Stan the bite, Stan shows her his burn, and by the next full moon they’ve figured out what’s happened with her. So werewolves exist, Stan marvels. Huh.

They live together from then on, and work together to try and get the portal operating again. With Angie’s help, it’s rebuilt in a fraction of the 30 years it took in canon- but they were still missing j3 until summer 2012. I definitely think Angie would find Fidds and help rehabilitate him, and help quick enough that his memory doesn’t entirely go kaput. (Still debating if Fidds helps with the portal or not. I’d lean towards not in a million years...) Stan and Angie ALSO have their kiddos (the first three a surprise) and eventually marry after the triplets.

Maybe in this AU it’s the werewolf thing that’s more secret than the portal thing...? Not quite sure haha, but I think the cat’s out of the bag for both on the same night. OH HECK idea- NWHS takes place on a full moon night. Just before the portal activates the moon goes full and in the chaos of the portal going off Stan can’t stop himself from turning so when Ford comes back he just sees this huge ass grey wolf next to the kids and,, knowing Ford, he almost shoots, and would have if it weren’t for Soos, who fully knows Stan and Angie and their family are werewolves.

And for the twin switch idea, is it at all possible that Stan, after turning Ford, would be able to- with extreme concentration- return to human form (and don Ford’s clothes) just long enough to do the handshake with Bill? That’s the sorta concept I was thinking of for that!

[thatabitcryptic]

How do you think fidds and fords relationship developed over the years? Like from college to marriage(May and Fidds) to portal partners to enemys to lovers etc. I have my own headcanons but I want to know what you think!

O o o o o o o ok I am a sap so uhh here we go

So during college I don’t really think they had an established romantic relationship,, I personally like to think it started out with ford disliking fidds with. A. Passion.

He’s stuck in the worst University, in the worst dormitory, with the worst roommate.

Fiddleford played banjo almost every night which distracted him from his study. He was loud and rowdy, trying to make conversation when ford was clearly busy and not interested. He was just a southern hick who didn’t take lessons seriously and in Ford’s opinion was wasting his time here.

Until... (please forgive me idk how American schooling works let alone college lmao) end of term exams (I feel like their called finals?? I haven’t a clue tbh) ford starts to push himself harder and harder in class because he can’t fail he can’t he has to prove he’s not just some freak no one wants but he can’t do it he can’t focus it’s all too much he’s going to fail. Everything’s all wrong. He’s missing Stan something.

Fidds sees him struggling to study. Ford’s restless in his chair, grumbling to himself, wiping his tears eyes and he’s standing up and pacing. So fidds, the kind soul that he is, asks what’s wrong to only be met with ford leaning in close and yelling at him about how it’s all his fault he’s failing with his ‘hick southern quirks’ keeping him from concentrating. I hc fidds to be very sensitive about his accent and upbringing when he was younger so this is a heavy blow. Ford sees his face shift from confusion to anger to anxiety and he feels terrible. Uh yeah next he breaks down into fidds’ chest soaking his shirt and just repeating how sorry he is.

Fiddleford comforts him and immediately forgives him bc he is clearly remorseful and tbh fidds just be like that. After ford calms down he starts freaking out again because he’s got exams coming up and he’s not going to do very well. So fiddy boy offers to help but ford is doubtful... and fidds can see it on his face. So he goes and grabs a little knickknack he had been working on (idk what it is but it’s very impressive to ford)

Fidds help him pass all his classes with flying colours. This is when ford realises that he’s gay. However my guy has some internalised homophobia.

Anyway now that they are on better terms they start to hang out and goof around as college buddy’s. If ford gets stressed fidds notices and rests a hand on his shoulder. Ford is very not straight. Also it’s canon that they stay up late and talk about the future which is sweet so that happens.

Okay so college kinda goes like that nothing explicit but lots of pining (hehe) from both sides - fidds is also a flustered mess but ford is blind to it bc there’s no way he would like me back but I’m not gay so it does matter ahaha (ford has lots of emotions)

So fidds’ marriage uhhhh I don’t really have anything positive to say here except for tate so idk

Emma-may. I don’t think she’s all too great considering she left fidds when he needed her most. Also I do think fidds was attracted too her at some point but I don’t think he was ever in love with her. He just got married and had Tate because that’s what you did back then, got married settled down and had kids.

(Oh to set it in the timeline this would be after college when ford was researching gravity falls alone - so the invitation to be the best man at the wedding was heart breaking for him bc he had no clue who this Emma-may was and he felt more alone than he ever had since Stan was kicked out.)

Next portal era!!

Ford doesn’t want to drag fidds away from his family but he needs his help. Ruh roh his feelings resurface and just a heck of a lot of pining.

Fidds and may are going through a rough patch (uhhhh she’s cheating oof) so he is super excited to see ford, to sort of get away for a bit - I like to think they filed for a divorce right before Ford’s call.

Again ford and fidds’ relationship doesn’t become offical but they are both yearning SO MUCH. Oh what Fidds is designing the bunker? oh what he can only fit one bed down there?? Welp Ford’s fine with that bc he’s not gay,, it’s not gay to blush when you homie puts his head on your hair. (Lots of ford waking up to being hugged and he’s fine with that bc ...they’re just friends)

Also fidds is like sad bc his marriage failed so ford is awkwardly trying to cheer him up while also seeing an opening but he represses that’s bc it’s insensitive and he’s totally straight .

Canon blah blah blah

(also may stinks bc even tho you are getting divorced you don't give up on someone who’s going through a huge storm,, especially if he’s the father of your son but idk that’s just my thoughts)

Now 30yrs later. Ford and fidds get together and finally get married :D I have too many ideas about how this could happen so idk but is very fluffy and soft

Okay ahahaha those are my thoughts and I have more small details about them during the portal era I didn’t put in because this is already VERY l o n g.

[amydiddle]

Since that Anon asked for both #15 and #25, and you chose #25, how about #15? Still a ship with Stan (cuz I love me some dad!Stan) but...a different ship than Fiddlestan, if you feel comfortable trying it out. c:

NUMBERS 15.   Baby’s first steps

So…my confidence in other people’s characters has dwindled a little but I am willing to try today, I giess? (At least babies don’t talk) So I am basing this off my sister who never once crawled and also what my mom did when I was a baby which was kind of set up a blanket in whatever room we were in so I could lay on it. 

Stanley hummed along with the radio as it played softly in the background of the kitchen. Behind him his twin daughters were giggling to each other on a blanket he had placed on the floor for them to rest on. Their toys had mostly been contained to the blanket today and he considered that a blessing. 

He fell into a sort of trance as he made dinner for that night. The calmness of the day lulling him into an odd sort of lull. The thing that broke that lull was the sudden silence that had filled the small room. The girls were never quiet even when they were sleeping. 

“Girls?”

Stan pulled himself away from the pot and stared in horror at the empty blanket that should have two tiny children. 

“Danny? Daisy?” Stan felt his hands begin to sweat. They had not even showed signs of crawling yet where could they have gone. Had something happened to them? Could his little girls have been taken when he was lost in thought?

“Girls!?!” Stanley hurried out of the room and stared down the hallway. Panic was fueling his steps and he looked into every room. 

Stan almost overlooked a very obvious detail in the master bedroom. A little giggle that barely reached his ears past the song of his beating heart. He was almost fully down the hall when his brain caught up to him and he backtracked. 

Daisy clung to the bed and stood up on her shaky little legs. Next to her was her sister, who shakily started to let go of the bedding. Neither of them seemed aware of their father. 

“Wait!” Stan moved fast to try and stop Danny from letting go or, at least, catch her before she fell. He froze at the sight he saw. 

The little girl wobbled on her legs but stayed standing. When she caught sight of his dad she made a happy little squee and took wobbly steps towards him. He laughed as she stumbled right into his open arms. 

Daisy seemed to take that as a chance to do the same and wobbled over to her dad and clung to his shirt once she got there. Both of the girl’s babbled excitedly to each other after that. 

Stan just stared at them both in shock. His little girls just walked over to him…and somehow escaped to the bedroom without him noticing. A soft laugh left his lips before it fell into a full on belly laugh. He hugged them both close and placed a kiss on their head. 

“You two are amazing,” he said through the laughter. Both of his daughters giggling with them, “Wait till I tell your Mama what you just pulled on me. She won’t believe it.” 

“I won’t believe what?” 

“Angie!” Stan looked back at the doorway with an excited smile on his face. “They’re walking!” 

[vulpixen]

Here’s my second drabble that is set in @thelastspeecher ‘s Pirate AU where their character Angie McGucket is a pirate captain who goes by the name Sully McGowan as their alias, pretending to be a man, and with Stan Pines as her first mate. This drabble is set where Angie still went by Sully before changing to Sally years later. Where Angie lets a new crewmember onto her ship in a most unexpected way, and Dan encountering someone from his past: ___________________________________________________________

When the smoke cleared and the rushing of the sea makes Sweet Viola rock, it was clear who won when the other pirate ship, Rash Rochelle, high tails away in defeat as they leave behind their dead onboard Captain Sully’s vessel.

On the deck, Sully spits to the side and in disgust of the cowards who left behind their own that were killed in self-defense; some by his own hand. Sully makes a gesture to his first mate, Stan, to beckon him wordlessly.

“Yeah, Captain?” voices Stan, saluting in his captain’s presence.

“Round up the bodies and count the heads of our own. Need to make sure there are those of us who are breathing.” Stan gives him a firm nod.

“Understood. Those bastards put up a fight they did. And ran like cowards to not even take their dead with them...” Stan turns his heel and announces the captain’s orders for the crew to hear. They obediently follow and get their wounds treated in the process.

It did not take long for the heads of Sully’s crew to be counted. Not one of them died this day. The same cannot be said for the men of the rival ship who fell by their blades and muskets with their bodies lined up and prepared to be thrown overboard. Almost. A cough came from a young man with dark lengthy red hair and tattered clothes with a dark green bandana around his head.

The doctor examining the bodies whistles for Dan. “This one still lives! Better let the captain know--”

“Wait…” Dan puts a hand on the man’s face and seeing those hazel eyes of his that spark a memory, moving locks of thick red hair from his face. The more he moves aside, the more he recognizes the face of someone from his youth he left behind a lifetime ago. That young man is in fact a woman with a face adorn with freckles, a long scar across her right cheek that trailed down to her neck and a notched right ear. Scars marred the young woman’s face, but Dan sees her as the woman he thought he would never see again after years of being apart, though not by choice. The woman he loved since their youth: Bethany Hickok.

Bethany growls and flails an arm to keep him and the doctor from touching her, but she clutches at her stab wound in her chest she sustained during the fight and dropped hard on the ground that knocked her out cold and left her bleeding.

“Beth…” Dan croaks before he booms. “BETHANY IT’S ME! Dan…” Bethany’s eyes widen, knowing that booming strong voice could only come from one man she remembers so clearly by looking at Dan’s features on his face. He certainly grew more of a beard since last she saw him as Boyish Dan in their youth and grew much taller as well. Though Bethany too grew much taller than most woman are at six foot in height to easily dwarf those by her.

“Dan..?” Bethany mumbles before she passes out, her body going limp.

Dan nudges the doctor next to him. “Get her to the medical QUARTER. I’ll go inform the captain RIGHT away!” The doctor will never get used to Dan’s booming voice right by his ear.

Inside Sully’s cabin, Dan sits in the seat across from Sully and his desk with Stan leaning against the beam of the living quarters and Daisy in the captain’s lap. Dan begins to share what him and the doctor discovered about one of the surviving pirates. As Sully listens, his expression grew firmer but his face ever so slightly softens when Dan shares more of his past he never told him before til now. Before, Dan only made some mentions of yearning to return home until that changed when him and Sully turned to piracy as their new life and left behind the former.

“Ya see… Bethany isn’t just a girl I knew in my youth. We were betrothed.” Dan’s eyes showing sorrow and regret at the mention. “And I left her and my family behind.”

“Betrothed?” Stan inquires, running ideas in his mind about how Bethany may or may not have gotten bitter over the years and jumping to the conclusion in his head that Dan ran away and left her at the altar when it was not the case. “Oof. Can’t blame her if she may be bitter about you having disappeared.”

“Won’t blame her if she is…” Dan mutters, eying back at Sully and Stan. “After getting casted away at sea by a storm, ending up doing odd jobs that eventually got me into piracy, I couldn’t bring myself to ever go back home. And I found purpose in being loyal to our captain and our crew.” Now Stan rethinks everything and frowns. It was tragedy that happened. Sully knew his former first mate’s story since their beginning days of their piracy together. Before Sully became captain of the ship he now stands and commands on.

Sully places a finger to his chin and hearing the purrs of his orange tabby in contemplation, he asks of Dan for his opinion of what they should do about the potential prisoner/crewmate. “What do you suppose we do about your former sweetheart?”

Dan blushes, rubbing his neck before giving his answer. His tone was less booming but more somber than usual, something Sully and Stan rarely see him be. “I think she would be a good member of the crew here. She knows me and I’ve known her for years she would be a fine addition if I can convince her. And… I never stopped loving her. Part of me hopes she still loves me too. I want to at least set things right with her.”

“Alright then.” Sully permits without hesitation. “If she accepts, she’ll be on the probation period. She needs to prove to me, the crew, and you she will not stab us in the back and do exactly as I command and be respectful to our fellow crewmates. I want to trust your word, Dan, but anything about her could have changed for the worse than you knew her. I need to know if she’s still loyal to her former captain also.”

“Of course, Captain.” Dan gives him an affirming nod.

“In fact, me and Stan will meet Bethany with you; I want to see her and give my judgement personally.” Sully shows a faint smile.

In the medical quarters, Dan, Sully and Stan enter inside where the doctor was patching the unconscious woman’s exposed chest, stitching up the wound and having strapped her wrists with leather belts from the bed in the event she were to wake and try something no one would like. The doctor always kept a revolver nearby, but he rarely ever needed it. But one cannot be too careful.

“Doctor.” The doctor faces the direction of Sully’s rough voice and permits him inside as he rose and unlocks the door for the captain.

“Yes, Captain.” The doctor opens the door and allows him, the first mate and crewmate inside. “About our captive, she still lives. I just finished stitching the stab wound. Any deeper and she would have died for sure.” He leads the three to see the patient.

Bethany groans, stirring awake and finds her wrists bound to the bed by leather straps she moves until Dan goes up to her.

“Hey, easy, Bethany. It’s alright. The doc was patchin’ ya up is all.” Dan’s assurance has Bethany’s breathing ease and getting a better look at her old love confirms she wasn’t dreaming.

“My gods… it’s really you, Dan,” Bethany mutters, trying to sit up, but was lightly kept down by the doctor while he unties the leather around her wrists, seeing she won’t be aiming to hurt anyone.

“I wouldn’t sit up for a while or the stiches will bleed.”

Bethany huffs and stays lying still on her back as Sully and Stan approaches her to get a better look.

“So, you’re the fiancé Dan talked about with us,” Stan says bluntly.

“Positive things?” Bethany faces Dan before Sully speaks. She was going through many, many emotions.

“Positive things. I am this ship’s captain, Sullivan McGowan, but you may address me as Captain Sully.”

Bethany grins, glancing up and down to get a good look at Sully’s rather short stature in comparison to the larger men he is standing with. She had an inkling why that could be since Sully is clearly not a child. Bethany chuckles while remarking snidely. “Aren’t you short for a captain?” Dan and Stan gulp as did the doctor, knowing Sully made it perfectly clear to never be mocked in any way shape or form; that includes his short height.

“And aren’t you tall for a woman?” Sully snorts, unamused. “Enough with the pointless blathering. The point I want to make is to make an offer with you. I’m extending an invitation for you to join my crew if you so choose.” Bethany gives an incredulous expression.

“You won’t drop me off to the next port?” inquires Bethany.

“I mean I could if you refuse.” Sully speaks before he makes his intentions clear with the young woman. “Let me make things clear with how I run my ship and crew: there are women among my crew and some of the finest shipmates I could ever have next to the men that here too. I aim to treat each member with dignity and respect along with equal share of the goods we procure. I want to give you a better opportunity than what you likely had before than with the other crew you were with since they were so eager to leave their dead behind. Almost.”

Bethany thinks back to the last person she fought, the one who stabbed her in the chest. She remembers flowing locks of brown hair and radiant fierceness from her features. “Yeah…. It was one of your ladies who stabbed and almost killed me. I’m impressed.”

“I like that attitude.” Sully bows his head. “Would you like to join my crew?” “Where do I start?” Bethany accepts.

“Start with resting up. You’ll be on a probation period and I need to speak with you later about the crew you were with before.”

Bethany salutes her with a confident grin. “Aye, aye, captain!”

[agent-jaselin]

ANgie in G1 with D3?

Stan singing off key: She looked like an ANGEL