#Angie McGucket

[thelastspeecher]

Weird Little Critter - Chapter 4: Transitions, Part 1

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 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 3: Reunion

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 AO3

It's been a hot minute, but hopefully it's worth the wait! Here's the next chapter of the fic @elishevart and I are collaborating on!

——————————————————————————————

              Stan took out his wallet and thumbed through the cash he’d been given for this latest gig.  Normally, he wouldn’t do that in public, but he was the only person sitting at the bar.  The noise of the diner faded into the background as he counted up the bills.  He winced at the sight of multiple faces of Benjamin Franklin.

              I knew I was doing something illegal, but I didn’t know it was this illegal.  The waitress slid a plate in front of him with a wink.  Stan quickly tucked the cash and wallet back into his pocket.  Eh.  A job’s a job.  No one even got hurt this time.  It was just moving some weird lizard thing.  He shot a grin at the waitress.

              “Top me off, sweet cheeks?” he said, holding up his empty mug.  The waitress winked again.

              “Sure thing, handsome,” she crooned.  She grabbed a coffee pot and filled Stan’s mug up.  Stan leaned in, intending on getting some more information about the weird lumber town, but a patron flagged her down before he could say anything.  The waitress scurried away.  Stan sighed.

              It’s not like I need to know much about this place anyways.  Now that my job is done, I’ll be heading out once I finish my food.  Someone sat on the stool next to him.  Stan ignored the stranger, focusing instead upon the greasy, cheese-covered…something that had been served to him.  What the hell did I order, again?  It was off their “breakfast for dinner” menu.  He lifted a chunk of the food with his fork, revealing potatoes.  Oh, right.  It was called “loaded hashbrowns”.  He began to shove the food into his mouth.  The waitress returned, her coffee pot empty.

              “Angie, what a pleasure!” she said to the person sitting next to Stan, putting the coffee pot back in the machine.  “What can I do you for, sweetheart?  Johnnycakes?”

              “No thanks, Susan,” replied the stranger.  “I ain’t quite sure if I’m in the mood fer much right now.  Just wanted to get out of the house, if ya catch my drift.”  Stan raised an eyebrow at the woman’s thick southern accent.  The waitress, Susan, giggled.

              “Oh, I understand!  That Stanford can be a lot to handle in small amounts.  I can’t imagine living with him!”

              “Heh, yes,” the woman said, her light tone audibly forced.  Susan disappeared into the kitchen.  Stan turned to face the woman sitting next to him.  To his delight, she was cute.

              “Hey there, hot stuff,” he cooed.  The woman gave him a dirty look.  “What, you’re not into a man with serious cash to his name?”

              “Not if he got that money the way you did,” the woman hissed.  Stan frowned at her.  The woman leaned in.  “I saw what ya did.  You took ‘im to those damned Northwests.”

              “Lady, I have no clue what you’re talking about,” Stan lied.  He turned back to his food.  However, he could still feel the woman’s piercing blue eyes boring into him.  “Leave a man alone to eat his damn food,” he snapped.

              “Hmph.”  The woman got up from the stool.  Not long after, the bell over the diner’s door jingled.  Stan sighed in relief.

              I didn’t realize there was a witness.  Definitely gonna have to blow this popsicle stand right away.  Find somewhere else to stay for the night.  Stan finished inhaling the loaded hashbrowns, downed his coffee, and left a tip far more generous than he typically did.  I don’t wanna try to break any of these larger bills, I just wanna get outta here.

              Stan exited the diner and walked over to the Stanmobile parked nearby.  The woman from before was sitting on the hood.

              “Get off, lady!” Stan shouted.  The woman hopped off the hood.  “What the hell is your problem?”  Stan groaned.  He gestured at the streaks of mud that had been left behind by the woman.  “I just washed her and you got her dirty again!”

              “Oh, boo-hoo,” the woman snapped.

              “Why are you so damn dirty anyways?” Stan asked, now realizing just how covered in mud her jeans and T-shirt were.  The woman put her hands on her hips.

              “I was at the lake when you took my friend.  It’s awful muddy there.”

              “Okay, first off, I didn’t take him,” Stan said.  “All I did was drive the car.”  The woman rolled her eyes.  “Second, your friend?  You’re cracked in the head if you think that lizard is your friend.”

              “He’s not a lizard!  He’s-”  The woman closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  “I need you to help me get him back.”

              “And why the hell would I do that?”

              “You just confessed to trafficking a rare animal,” the woman said.  “That’s a federal crime.  Local laws, ya might be able to beat.  But federal?  Those ‘re dif’cult even if you’ve got a good lawyer.  And I get the feelin’ you don’t got one of those.”  Stan crossed his arms.

              “It’s your word against mine, toots.”

              “No.  It’s yer word against you.”  The woman pulled something out of her pocket.  Stan squinted at it.  He paled.  In the dusk light, it was difficult to make out, but he recognized it as a voice recorder.  The woman slid it into her back pocket again.  “So.  Either ya help me get my friend back or ya go to federal prison.”  The woman cocked her head, smiling smugly.  “Which one do ya want?”  Stan ground his teeth.

              “You piece of-”  He shook his head.  “Get in the back.  I don’t want mud all over the passenger seat.”

-----

              He swam easily through the warm, clean water, feeling at home.  Despite the apparent endless nature of his environment, he knew there to be a boundary, as he had collided with an invisible barrier earlier.  Just beyond that barrier, two humans spoke to each other, their words garbled from traveling through water to him.  They left his frame of vision, not that he cared.  There were more important things to focus on.  Like the tasty-looking small shrimp-like creatures scurrying away from him.

              He only got a few bites in before he was lifted from his home.  He let out a loud, frustrated chirp.

              “Shh!” hissed the person holding him.  He wriggled in their grip.  “Can’t ya make this easier on me?  We don’t got much time.”  The voice was familiar.  It soothed him.  He stilled.  The person sighed.  He was gently placed into a pet carrier.  “I know you’d be more comfortable in water, but speed is of the essence here, and water is dif’cult to transport quickly.”  He chirped softly.  “We’ll get ya in some water back home.”

              “Got it?” asked a new voice.  This voice was familiar as well.  But not in a good way.

              “Him,” the first voice corrected.  “But yes.  He’s in here.”  The door to the carrier was closed and latched.  “It’s a bit heavy fer me to carry fast and quiet.  Think you can take ‘im?”

              “Yeah, hand him over.  We gotta get outta here.”  The carrier was lifted into the air.  He looked around, faintly curious, as they sped through large hallways.  From his spot in the carrier, he couldn’t see much.  They exited through a door, sprinting into the night.

              “I’ll take ‘im,” the first voice said.  The carrier was handed over, then carefully set down.  The owner of the first voice appeared before him, their face close to the carrier.  “Are ya okay?”

              Ford blinked. His head was swimming, much like he had been minutes ago.  Thankfully, Angie’s familiar face had been enough to drag him out of full incomprehension.  Worry shone in her blue eyes.  An engine turned over.  They promptly began to move, making him feel dizzy. 

              “A-Angie?” he squeaked hesitantly.  Angie’s shoulders slumped in relief.

              “Whoa, that thing can talk?” asked the other person involved in his rescue.

              “Eyes on the road,” Angie snapped.  Ford shook his head, trying to dispel the fuzzy feeling to his thoughts. It barely helped. 

              “Where are we?  What happened?”

              “We’re in a car,” Angie said gently.  “Gettin’ away from the folks what captured ya at the lake.”

              “The lake…”  Ford cringed, his tail wrapping around his body.  “I- I apologize for the fight.”

              “What?  No!  No, it’s my fault,” Angie said firmly.  “I shouldn’t have pushed ya so hard just fer data.  I was bein’ a bad friend.”

              “I responded immaturely,” Ford mumbled.  “If I didn’t swim away from you in a huff, I wouldn’t have stumbled into that trap.”

              “What are you two talking about?” asked the driver.  The voice was so familiar, but the fog in Stanford’s head made it impossible for him to remember. 

              “He got captured ‘cause we got into a tiff and he left fer some space,” Angie replied.

              “Huh.”

              “Seriously, Stanford, don’t worry about it,” Angie said.

              “Did you just call that thing Stanford?” the driver asked quietly.  Ford’s eyes widened.

              No. He pawed at the door of the carrier.  Angie obediently opened it for him. He crawled onto the seat next to her, his legs shaking under him.  She smiled and stroked the top of his head, but Ford was more focused on the driver.  Unfortunately, his horrid eyesight meant the driver was just a dark, vaguely-shaped blob.  But that voice, it’s too distinct.  It has to be.

              “…Stanley?” Ford said faintly.  The car swerved, causing Ford to fall into Angie’s lap.

              “Eyes on the road!” Angie screamed.  The car steadied.

              “How the hell did that thing know my name?!” demanded the driver.

              “I- I don’t know.”  Angie looked down at Ford in her lap.  She stroked his back.  “How do ya know his name?”

              “It’s a long story.”

              “The fact the two of ya look so similar wouldn’t happen to be relevant to that story, would it?”

              “What? I don’t look anything like that lizard!”

              “Stanford,” Angie said, ignoring the driver’s outburst.  “Tell me.”

              “It’s a story as long as my life.”

              “Shit,” breathed the driver.  The car came to a stop.  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

              “We’re not home yet,” Angie protested.

              “I can either listen to this bullshit or keep my eyes on the road, toots. I can’t do both.” The driver took a deep breath. “You keep calling that thing Stanford. Does he have a last name?”

              “Yes.”

              “What is it?”

              “Pines.”

              “Pines.  Fucking-”  The driver unbuckled and turned in his seat to look at Ford.  Ford shrunk back.  “Twelve fingers.  Or whatever lizard fingers are called.”

              “He’s not-”

              “Sweet fucking Moses, Ford, is that you?” asked the driver, Ford’s estranged twin brother.

              “…Yes,” Ford whispered. Stan stared at him for a minute, then shook his head.

              “Un-fucking-believable.”  He turned back to face the front. The car began to move again.  “Un-fucking-believable.”

-----

              Angie sighed in relief when they pulled up to the house. The man apparently named Stanley had spent the rest of the drive asking Angie questions she didn’t know the answers to. Ford would have been able to tell him what he wanted to know, but kept dozing off and on in her lap. Stanley turned off the car and turned around.

              “So.  Uh. Can I use your bathroom real quick?” he asked. “I gotta take a piss.” Angie frowned. She had the feeling that he was using an excuse to enter the house, but didn’t want to tell him no.  After all, he had helped her.

              “Sure,” she said. Stanley exited the car and sprinted up to the house.

              Shoot, the door’s locked! I need to get it fer him. Angie quickly opened the car door to tell Stanley, only to see him open the front door without any problem.

              “How did he…” she muttered to herself.  Ford opened an eye sleepily.

              “Did he get inside despite the locked front door?”

              “Yes.”

              “He taught himself how to pick locks when we were in high school.” Ford yawned. “I expect he’s gotten even better since then.”

              “Hmm.”

              “I can help you deal with him.”

              “No, no.” Angie stroked Ford’s head. “I want you to sleep off whatever they did to you. In the morning, when yer back to normal, we can take ya to the doctor. Ya look to be in rough shape.”  She was carefully understating the seriousness of Ford’s injuries. It was obvious Ford needed medical attention. But he couldn’t get it in this form. They would need to wait until the sun rose.

              “Okay,” Ford mumbled blearily. He closed his eyes again. A soft snore escaped him soon after, making Angie smile.

              Dang it, he’s so cute!  Angie carefully slid out of the car’s backseat, making sure to keep Ford in her lap, then transferred him to her arms as she stood up. A few streaks of red smeared onto her arms from the movement, making her stomach churn anxiously. Don’t panic, Angie. Don’t panic.  He’s got delicate skin that bruises ‘n bleeds easy.  He clearly ain’t bleedin’ much. Angie took a steadying breath and slowly walked up to the house, taking her time so as to not disturb Ford.  She entered the house and quietly went to the living room. The water in Ford’s downstairs aquarium had been changed that morning, so it was the cleanest option.

              Angie gently placed Ford in the tank.  Ford curled up happily, still asleep.  His gills drifted idly in minor currents.  She placed a hand on the tank.

              “I’ll get ya some food in the mornin’,” she said quietly.

              “This really is Ford’s place, huh?” a voice said behind her. Angie spun around. Stanley had entered the living room at some point while she was distracted with Ford.  He was looking closely at one of the framed photos on the wall.  It was one of her favorites, taken when she convinced Ford to go to a tourist trap with her in Eugene.  Ford’s arm was slung around her shoulder, both of them were beaming.

              “Yes, it is,” Angie said. “Though I live here as well.”

              “Kinda figured that out.” Stanley sighed.  “So, uh-”

              “Let’s talk on the porch, okay?” Angie interrupted.  “I don’t want Stanford to wake up.”

              “Yeah, I wasn’t as careful as I should’ve been when I was carrying him around,” Stanley mumbled. “He probably got dinged up a bit.”  Angie sighed. She walked into the kitchen and out onto the back porch.  Stanley followed her.

              “I think they did somethin’ more to him than whatever happened in transport,” she said once the door had closed. “I ain’t ever heard him make those sorts of animalistic noises ‘fore.” She held out her hand. “We should prob’ly have proper introductions.  I’m Angie. Angie McGucket.” Stanley shook her hand reluctantly.

              “Stan Pines.”

              “Stanford called ya Stanley.”

              “That’s what Stan is short for,” Stanley, no Stan, said, sounding irritable. Angie scowled.  “And, um, Ford is-”

              “Yer twin brother,” Angie said.  Stan’s eyes widened.  “Yer close in age and look awful sim’lar.  When Stanford don’t got gills, at least.  It’s easy enough to connect the dots.”

              “I guess.”  Stan let go of Angie’s hand.  He shoved his hands into his pockets.  “Look…”

              “Stanford won’t be in good condition fer a lil while,” Angie said quickly. “He’s rather stubborn, so it’ll be dif’cult to get him to follow whatever limits the doctor orders. I- I wouldn’t mind some help ‘round the house and with him.” Stan stared blankly at her.  “Maybe fer a week?”

              “Are- are you asking me to stay?” he asked.  “For a full week?”  Angie nodded.  “Why?”

              “Everything I told ya. I also wouldn’t mind if the two of ya could make up.”

              “What makes you think we need to make up?” Stan asked warily.

              “I live with the man and he never told me he had a twin.  Somethin’ went wrong between ya.”  Angie smiled.  “Call me a helpless optimist.  I’d like whatever was broken to get fixed.”

              And judgin’ by the kind of junk ya had in yer back seat, you’ve been livin’ in yer car fer who knows how long.  I’d like the feller what helped me out to spend at least one night in a house.  Stan cleared his throat roughly.

              “I’ll think about it,” he said. Angie’s smile broadened. “But, uh, I need you to give me the voice recorder first.”  Angie frowned.

              “Voice recorder?”

              “You know, the thing you used to blackmail me into helping you?” Stan insisted.  Angie blinked.

              “Oh.  This?” She pulled out the container of mints in her back pocket.  Stan gaped at it.  “I was bluffin’.”

              “How- you-”

              “What can I say? I’m good at poker.”  Angie grinned at the perplexed look on Stan’s face.  “Come on inside. I’ll get ya set up.”

              Fifteen minutes later, Stan was snoring peacefully on the living room couch. Angie checked on Ford in his tank.

              Still asleep. Good. She yawned. Can’t sleep yet. I’ve got some notes to make. And some journalin’ to do. Angie sat at the living room table and opened her personal journal. After writing down the events of the day, she switched to the notebook her observations about Ford were in.  She managed to get down a few bullet points before her eyelids slowly drifted shut.

-----

              As the sun rose, it slowly illuminated the living room in a soft orange glow. The three sleeping figures paid it no mind, all lost to the land of Morpheus. Its light eventually made its way to the huge tank in which Ford slept soundly. The heat from the sun seeped through the tank’s glass, disturbing his slumber. He grumbled and changed his position at the bottom of his tank, trying to avoid it. He laid there between waking up and falling asleep again.

              Five more minutes…  Ford tried to bury his head and avoid the sunlight, but as he knew from his physics degree, water only diffused the rays even more. He wouldn’t fall asleep anytime soon and he slowly opened his eyes to see…a blurry, fuzzy world.

              He felt horrible. Every fiber of his being felt sore from the event of the night before. His right arm was particularly throbbing, which made it difficult to find a comfortable position even underwater. Even opening his eyes took more effort than normal, not that he could see much. At least the sun was pleasantly warm.

              Ford’s blood ran cold.

              Shit.  Shit!  Shit!  The sun is up, but I’m still amphibious!  Panicking, Ford swam to the top of the tank and pulled himself partially out of the water. He looked around some more. A beige shape was snoring loudly on the couch. To his relief, he recognized the caramel color of Angie’s hair at the table.  Hopefully she can help.

              “Angie!” he squeaked.  His voice was even higher pitched than usual. It sounded odd to him.  Perhaps his vocal cords were impacted by the events of the night before as well.  The figure at the table stirred.

              “Ugh…” It moved some more.  “Stanford?”  Her voice was thick with sleep, but Ford would recognize Angie’s soprano anywhere.  “…Oh.  Oh no.”

              “The sun is up,” Ford said, his tail thrashing with nerves.  “But I’m not human.”

              “I can see that.” Angie got up and walked over. As she got closer, Ford could make out her features. Her brow was creased with worry, her hair tousled and in disarray, dark circles under her eyes.  “I- I have a feelin’ ‘bout what might have caused this.”

              “You do?”

              “Ya didn’t seem to quite be yourself when we first rescued ya last night.”

              We?  The events of the night before came flooding back to him.  Oh.  Right.  Somehow, Angie enlisted Stanley of all people to help.

              “I wonder if the poachers drugged ya or somethin’.” Angie stroked Ford’s head. Ford closed his eyes, soothed by the sensation. “That’s the only explanation I can come up with, though I’m sure there are other possibilities I just ain’t thought of.  If they did in fact drug ya, and that substance were still in yer system, that could explain why ya ain’t back to normal yet.”

              “That’s a very solid theory,” Ford replied.  He smiled.  “You’re quite intelligent.”  Angie forced a smile back.

              “Thanks, Stanford.”  Her smile faded.  She chewed on her lip anxiously.  “I’m glad yer mentally yourself again, but you got hurt awful bad physically.  I’m- I’m goin’ to make a call.”  She kissed the top of Ford’s head and disappeared into the kitchen.  Ford frowned.

              Who could she be calling? The familiar snoring coming from the couch stopped. Ford closed his eyes. Great.

              “Huh,” said the voice of his estranged twin. Ford looked over his shoulder at the blurry shape moving on the couch. “So I didn’t dream you being a lizard.”

              “I’m an amphibian,” Ford corrected tartly. “And- and normally I’m not. This just happens during the full moon.”

              “Like a werewolf. But you’re still an animal during the day.”

              “I’m not supposed to be,” Ford muttered. His tail flicked anxiously. “Angie thinks that I may have been drugged, and that is what’s keeping me in this form.” He did his best to glare in Stan’s general direction. “What the hell are you doing in my house?” To his disappointment, Stan laughed.

              “Are you trying to intimidate me? Ford, you’re too cute with that lizard face to scare me.”

              “Amphibian.”

              “Eh.  Potato, tomato.”

              “That’s not the-” Ford started.

              “Angie told me I could stay on the couch, since you’re wondering,” Stan interrupted. Ford stilled.

              What?  Why would she- He sighed softly. Then again, I never told her about my history with Stan. I shouldn’t expect her to intuit our complicated past.

              “She insisted, really,” Stan continued.

              “It was the least I could do after ya helped out so much,” Angie’s voice said. Both Stan and Ford turned in her direction.  Angie stood in the kitchen doorway, leaning against the doorjamb.  “I ‘preciate ya helpin’ me break ‘im out.  Or steal ‘im.  Or rescue ‘im.  Whichever term ya want to use.” Ford could feel Stan tense.

              “I don’t need your help.”

              “I wasn’t sayin’ ya did. But we got back late and the right thing to do would be to let ya crash fer the night.” Angie cocked her head. “By the by, did ya think more ‘bout my request fer ya to stay longer?”

              “Angie…” Ford hissed.

              “Yeah. I did. And…” Stan’s stomach growled. Angie laughed.

              “We can talk in the kitchen while I get breakfast ready fer all three of us,” she said cheerfully. “We’ve got plenty of time ‘fore the appointment I scheduled.” Ford swallowed.

              “Appointment?” he asked. “Are we going somewhere?”

              “Don’t worry.  I’m sure Stan will drive us,” Angie said.  Stan’s stomach growled again.

              “Lady, if your breakfast is any good, I’ll drive you to a different state,” he said playfully. Angie chuckled. Stan got up from the couch and followed her into the kitchen. Ford stared after them nervously, the tip of his tail twitching.

              Where the hell does Angie want to take me looking like this? A possibility presented itself. Dread settled in Ford’s stomach with a heavy weight. Oh, sweet Moses, please not that.  Anything but that. He cleared his throat.

        “…Angie?”

-----

              Ford’s stomach churned from inside the pet carrier.

              I can’t believe I let Angie trick me into this thing like I was a dog or cat or- or some other common animal!  After breakfast, Angie had placed some of Ford’s favorite dried worm snacks in the carrier and then walked away to clean up the kitchen.  Ford, still hungry from the night before, couldn’t resist the temptation and snuck into the carrier, intending on grabbing the treats and then immediately getting away from the carrier.  But before he could, Stan slammed the door closed and latched it shut, trapping Ford inside. He’d hissed and thrashed as hard as he could but the little door stayed closed. He was trapped. Then Angie brought him to Stan’s car and they departed for an unknown destination.  Though one I have my suspicions about.  The car came to a stop.

              “Want me to go in with you guys?” Stan asked.

              “No, you can stay out here,” Angie said cheerfully.  Ford felt she was still friendlier with Stan than she would be if she knew his history with Ford.  But he could also tell that Angie wasn’t being as congenial with Stan as she usually was with other people.

              Perhaps she is being reserved on my behalf.  I wouldn’t cut out my twin for no reason, and she’s smart enough to recognize that there must therefore be bad blood between us.

              “Are you sure?” Stan asked.  “I’m good with animals.”  At that comment, Ford couldn’t help but hiss, his frills flattening against his head. Angie laughed politely.

              “That’s very kind of ya, but I’ve got it handled.  Just wait here, please.”

              “Fine,” Stan grumbled.  Ford heard Angie open her door, then come around to get him from the back seat.  His carrier was unfortunately too large to ride in the passenger’s seat with her.  “You let me know if you need anything.”

              “I’ve got it handled, but thanks.”  Angie lifted Ford’s carrier.  “C’mon, Stanford.  Let’s get ya fixed up.”  

              “Please reconsider your choice of words,” Ford said weakly.

              “Hmm?  Oh!  You know I didn’t mean that.”

              “Still…”  Ford slid around in the carrier slightly as Angie began to walk.  He could look out the grated door of the carrier and through some slits on the side, but with his poor vision, he could see only vague shapes and colors.  They walked up to a small, one-story building.  There was a sign on the outside with letters too blurry for Ford to make out.  Angie pushed open the door.  A bell jingled.  Immediately, Ford was assaulted with the distinctive “animal” smell he associated with pet stores.  Though there was one other place that tended to have that odor…

              “Howdy, I’m here fer an appointment,” Angie said cheerfully as she set the carrier on the ground.

              “Name?”

              “My name is Angie McGucket.  This here is Tubbs.”

              “Is this your first appointment with us?”

              “Yes’m.  And, uh, when I called, I was surprised y’all would be willin’ to see a salamander.”

              “We will see any and all pets that need medical assistance.”  Ford closed his eyes wearily, covering his head with his paws.

              She really did it.  She took me to the vet.  He mentally tuned out, dissociating, as Angie finished checking him in under the name of “Tubbs”.  Of all the things in the world to call me!  He was startled from his fuming when he felt the carrier get lifted.

              “Follow me,” the employee helping Angie said cheerfully.  Ford curled up in the back of the carrier, his dread building.  He heard a door open and close, and the carrier was placed on the ground again.  “Would you mind taking Tubbs out?”

              “Oh, sure!”  The door to the carrier opened.  Angie’s face appeared.  “C’mon, Tubbs.”  Ford let out a hiss and flatened his frills again.  “Aw, don’t be like that.”  Angie reached into the carrier, scooping Ford up.  He blinked in the bright light of the examination room.  Angie placed him on the exam table on all fours.  Ford looked around.  When he spotted the blurry employee, he hissed again.  “Don’t worry, his bark is bigger ‘n his bite.  He’s just a bit spooked is all.”

              “Compared to some of the patients we see, he’s an absolute angel,” the employee said with a laugh.  “Since he’s classified as an exotic pet, as a veterinary technician, I won’t be able to do any of his exam.  You’ll have to wait for the actual doctor.”

              “Perfectly fine,” Angie chirped.  The vet tech stroked Ford’s head.

              “What a gorgeous little guy.  I’ll let the vet know you’re ready for her.”

              “Thanks.”  The vet tech patted Ford’s head again, then left.

              “Tubbs?” Ford hissed at Angie the second the door closed.  “Really?”  Angie sighed.

              “Look, the salamander I caught what got me into West Coast Tech, I named ‘im Tubbs.  I didn’t prepare a name fer ya ahead of time and when I was put on the spot, I just said the first name I thought of!”

              “It’s incredibly humiliating. You could have just gone with my actual name!”

              “I didn’t want to use yer real name fer privacy reasons.  Luckily, Stan ain’t here to hear ya bein’ called Tubbs.  And I won’t tell ‘im unless ya want me to.”

              “Do not tell him,” Ford said firmly, slapping his tail on the table.  Angie nodded.  Ford started to pace on the small observation table and stomped his feet and hands in frustration, each step trying to vent his emotions. He winced as pain shot up his right arm.  He lifted it, balancing on his other limbs.  “Why did you bring me to the vet?” he asked, the pain making his voice weaker than he intended.

              “I’m sorry.”  To her credit, Angie’s voice sounded genuinely apologetic.  “I didn’t have any other choice!”

              “I’ll revert to human form soon enough and can go to the doctor then.”

              “We don’t know that,” Angie said softly.  “We don’t know nearly enough ‘bout yer sit’ation to feel confident that you’ll turn human on yer own soon.  As far as we know, it could be that ya won’t turn back human until you’ve healed.  Or the next full moon.  Or…”  Angie trailed off.

              “…If I even will turn human again,” Ford finished quietly.  Angie nodded.  “You have a doctorate in herpetology, though.  Surely you could examine and treat me.”

              “I know how salamanders work but not how to heal ‘em,” Angie said.  “And, honestly, I weren’t the greatest in my anatomy classes.  I’m very bad at identifying bones.”

              “Why is that relevant?”

              “I’m pretty sure ya have at least one broken bone,” Angie said firmly as she pointed to the arm Ford refused to put down. He hissed at her.  Angie sighed.  “I ain’t any happier ‘n you are about this.”

              “You’re not the one about to be poked and prodded like a dumb animal, all the while referred to as Tubbs!” His tail swayed angrily behind him and frills lowered. 

              “Just…”  A heavy weariness entered Angie’s voice.  “Just play along and I’ll make it up to ya.  Okay?”  Ford felt a twinge of guilt over her clear exhaustion.  He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, the door opened.  Ford quickly closed his mouth.

              “This is Tubbs?” asked the vet as she approached the exam table.  Angie stroked Ford’s head.  Ford heard some rustling, like the vet was getting something from underneath the table.

              “Yes.  He’s a bit nervous, so don’t take any bad behavior personally.”

              “He?”

              “Tubbs is male.”

              “Hmm.  And did you sex Tubbs yourself?” the vet asked.  She lifted Ford’s tail.

              I’m sorry, did Angie what?  To Ford’s surprise, Angie bristled.  Did that question offend her?

              “Yes, I did.”

              “Are you confident?”

              “I grew up on a farm where I first started sexin’ chickens in preschool and have a doctorate in herpetology with an emphasis in amphibians, salamanders in particular,” Angie said tartly.

              “All right, all right,” the vet said.  “Unfortunately, I’ll still need to verify your sexing.”

              “You really don’t need to-” Angie said quickly.  Ford yelped as he learned why the vet had raised his tail.  He whimpered.

              She could have used Vaseline or some other lubricant!  The vet removed her finger. Ford immediately took a side step away from her and hissed.  

              “Tubbs does appear to be male,” the vet said, unfazed.  Angie huffed.  “Look, you don’t have any previous veterinary records for him, so I have to do a complete examination, including sexing.”  The vet began to palpate Ford’s body.  “He seems pretty beat up.  What exactly happened?”

              “I was cleanin’ his tank and he snuck out of the room.  Poor thing fell down the stairs,” Angie lied.  The vet reached Ford’s right arm.  Ford yelped again.

              “Hmm.  I think we’ll need to do an x-ray.  And probably an ultrasound as well to check on internal soft tissue damage,” the vet muttered softly.  “In addition, as this is his first appointment ever, we’ll want to take some blood for testing.  We can establish a baseline for him and see if there’s anything especially out of whack.”

              “Please be gentle with him,” Angie said quietly.

              “Of course.”  The vet picked Ford up.  “Come on, Tubbs.  Let’s get you checked!”  Ford managed a quiet chirp at Angie before he was whisked away into a very loud, out-of-focus room.

              Okay.  The best way to get through this is to…maybe pretend like it’s not happening? The door leading to the exam room closed.  Panic suddenly rose in Ford’s chest. Stay calm, Stanford, everything’s fine. You’ll see Angie soon. Logical reasoning was proving to be a poor match for his animal instincts, however.  Ford was placed on something metallic and cold.  Fear suddenly surged through him.  He attempted to leap away, only to be held in place.

              “Shh, Tubbs, it’s okay,” the vet said gently.  Ford squirmed in the vet’s hands, chirping and croaking, his panic only strengthening the longer he was kept on the metal surface.  “Dinah, I need- oh, you’ve got it ready for me.  Thank you.”  Ford felt a small prick on his buttock.  In a matter of seconds, his terror began to retreat.  He stood still.  “Good boy, Tubbs!”

              How degrading…  But Ford could only muster up a crumb of irritation.  He was perfectly content.  And a bit sleepy.  His sleepiness was chased away by something being held in front of his face.  Even without actively sniffing it, it smelled amazing.  Before he could think about it, he ate it in one bite.  It was a delicious fish ball of some sort.  During each test, many of them with Ford in some sort of restriction, he was given more of the fish balls.  Satisfied with the treats and calmed by whatever the vet had done earlier, before he knew it, he was being brought back through the door and into the exam room.

              “He’s back!” Angie said, sounding relieved.  She gasped.  “Oh, no.”

              “Unfortunately, his front right leg was broken,” the vet said, placing Ford on the exam table, Ford’s leg tried to support him but he slumped limply on the surface.  “He’ll need to wear the cast until he’s healed.  And to make sure he doesn’t mess with it, he’ll have to wear the cone as well.”  Ford blinked.

              Oh.  She’s right.  He could feel a cast on his right arm and even his horrible vision could make out the cone around his head plus the soft pressure around his neck. How did I not notice?  Then again, those treats were very good.  Maybe I can convince Angie to track them down.

              “That’s manageable,” Angie said.  “Do ya have any idea how long it will take fer him to heal?”

              “Before I answer that, I need to ask you a question,” the vet said, her tone serious.

              “Okay…”

              “Is Tubbs from…around here?” the vet asked.  “Specifically, is he from the woods?”  Ford looked up at the vet in shock.  He had long suspected that the people of Gravity Falls knew of the supernatural and magical beings in the area, but either ignored them or utilized superstition to keep them away.  The vet’s tone to her question felt like confirmation of his suspicions.

              Did Angie pick up on what isn’t being said?  Ford quickly swiveled his head to look at Angie.  She rested a reassuring hand on his back.

              “…Yes,” Angie said in a level voice.

              “I had a feeling.  He’s a bit of an odd one.”

              “Yeah, I ain’t never heard of anything like him ‘fore.  Seems like Gravity Falls got a lot of weird critters.”  Angie stroked Ford’s back.  “I seen awful strange things in the woods ‘round here.”

              “Be careful in the woods.  Not everything is as benign as sweet Tubbs.”  The vet cleared her throat.  “Knowing that he’s from around here, he should heal far faster than your average salamander.  He might be able to be without his cast within a week.”

              “Do I need to bring him back here to get the cast removed?”

              “Yes.”

              “Got it.”

              “We’ll call when the finer results of the tests are in and the bloodwork comes back.  I don’t expect anything to be wrong, though.  The only other thing I’d say is that Tubbs seems to be a bit overweight, so go easy on the treats.”  Ford looked up at the vet again, surprised.  “Aw, it’s okay, Tubbs.  A bit of extra cushioning isn’t a problem.”

              “I’m just glad he behaved himself fer ya.”

              “Well, we did have to give him a mild sedative to keep him from panicking,” the vet said.  “We weren’t concerned about our own safety, of course, we just wanted to make sure he didn’t get too stressed.”

              “Understood,” Angie said softly.  “Thanks fer takin’ such good care of him.”

              “No problem.  It was great to meet Tubbs.  He was such a delight, I can’t wait to see him again,” the vet said.  Angie laughed politely.  The door opened and closed.  Angie sighed.

              “I am so sorry,” she whispered to Ford.  “I thought they’d just do an x-ray!”

              “It’s okay,” Ford said.  The surge of energy from the treats and examinations had faded, leaving him exhausted.  Though that could have been the sedative they apparently gave him.  “Can we please go home?”

              “Of course!”  Angie lifted Ford from the table and placed him in the carrier.  “Don’t worry, we’ll take that cone off when we get home.  I’m assumin’ that ya won’t try to gnaw off yer cast.”  Ford managed a weak chuckle.  Angie closed the door of the carrier.  Ford curled up as best he could with the cone on his head and waited for Angie to check out and return to Stan’s car.

              Angie opened the back door of the car and slid Ford’s carrier in.  Stan turned around in his seat.

              “Holy shit!”  Stan burst into laughter.  “They- you- you’ve got one of those fucking cones on!”

              “Be nice!” Angie snapped.  “Unless ya want me to put a cone on you!”  Stan snickered.

              “Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing an attractive woman’s put on me.”

              “Ugh!”  Angie pushed Ford’s carrier further and then got in the back seat with him.  “I ain’t sittin’ up front with ya after that.”

              “Fine by me.  I drive better without a copilot,” Stan said.  He started the car.  “Anyways, I was thinking that we should get ice cream.  Your treat, obviously.”

              “Stanford can’t have dairy, so, no,” Angie replied.

              “Dammit,” Stan muttered.

              “We have ice cream at home,” Angie said with a sigh.

              “What kind?”

              “Butter pecan.  Oh!  And some sorbet.”

              “Sorbet?  Probably in a fancy flavor if you’re not calling it sherbert.”

              “I guess you could call cricket and mealworm fancy.”

              “What?!”  Stan stared at her.  Angie giggled.  “You’re fucking with me.  There’s no way you made bug ice cream.”

              “I didn’t.  Sorbet don’t have any dairy in it.”

              “Why would you make something like that?” Stan demanded.  Angie looked over at Ford with a smile.

              “I wanted to test my skills in the kitchen and make some special treats fer Stanford,” she said.  Ford perked up.

              “That reminds me.  When they were running the medical tests, they had these treats…”

-----

              The three settled into a new normal, although it was a tense one.  Angie wanted Ford under constant supervision to make sure he didn’t push himself too hard.  Which resulted in the brothers awkwardly sharing a space whenever Angie was otherwise occupied.  Ford was incredibly curious about what Stan had been up to since they last saw each other, but Stan refused to tell him.  Similarly, Stan kept asking Ford about the details of his amphibious condition, but Ford was hesitant to share much.

              Despite the tension, Angie was able to keep Stan and Ford civil with each other.  Any time tempers rose, she diffused the situation by giving them each separate tasks in different rooms.  Thanks to her efforts, Ford found himself warming up to Stan.  And it seemed like Stan was feeling the same way, cracking jokes with Ford and even sneaking him dried worm snacks behind Angie’s back.  Five days passed with Stan helping where Ford normally would, Angie keeping an ear and eye on everything in the house, and Ford feeling completely useless as he watched the world pass by from his aquarium.

              Until Angie took Ford to the vet to get his cast removed.

              Once again, Ford was locked into the pet carrier and brought to the vet under the moniker of Tubbs.  The vet verified that Ford’s arm was healed enough for the cast to be removed and insisted on drawing some more blood, as the preliminary results from his first appointment were apparently odd.  The fish ball treats Ford was given after more than made up for it, however.

              Angie pulled up to the house.  She got out of the pickup truck she and Ford shared and pulled Ford’s carrier out from the passenger seat.

              “I asked ‘bout the treats they’ve got that ya like so much,” she said casually.  Ford’s tail twitched in excitement.  “I’ll call the pet store in Eugene to see if they’ve got ‘em in stock.  If they don’t, maybe I can have the store order ‘em.”

              “That would be excellent!” Ford said eagerly.  They entered the house.

              “I expect Stanley is still cleanin’ yer tank,” Angie said as she set down the carrier.  She opened the door, freeing Ford.  “Why don’t ya go find him and ask what he wants me to make fer dinner?”

              “Will do,” Ford said, exiting the carrier.  Angie patted him on the head before picking up the carrier and taking it down to the basement.  Ford headed for the bathroom.  As he got closer, he could hear Stan’s incredibly off-key singing.  He reached the bathroom and pushed the door open.  Stan was facing away from Ford while he toweled off the cleaned tank.  “Stanley.”  Stan let out a yelp and dropped the tank.

              “Shit!”  Stan picked the tank back up.  “Dammit.”  Ford walked into the bathroom to get a closer look.  His heart sank.  There was an enormous crack in the glass.

              “Great, now I have to sleep in the bathtub,” Ford snapped.  Stan rolled his eyes.

              “You took me by surprise, okay?  You should be glad I didn’t hit you over the head with the damn thing.”

              “I should expect this by now,” Ford muttered to himself.  “You break things and then I deal with the consequences.”

              “Are you fucking kidding me?”  Stan set the tank on the floor.  “You think I didn’t deal with the consequences of breaking your stupid science thing?  In case you forgot, I got kicked outta the damn house!”

              “And what consequences will result from this?” Ford asked, gesturing to the cracked tank.  “Angie sends you to the store to pick up a new one?  Oh, what a travesty!  I suspect she’ll even give you money for it!”  Ford huffed impatiently, his tail flailing and frills flattening.  “My heavy reliance upon the tank right now is the result of your actions as well!  If you hadn’t literally trafficked me, I would be human during the day!”

              “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Stan muttered.  Ford didn’t stop.  He was on a roll.

              “Honestly, if you think about it, even this curse itself goes back to the fact I didn’t go to West Coast Tech,” Ford continued.  Stan glared at him.

              “I’ll take the blame for this fucking tank and the stupid, stupid trafficking thing.  But you can’t blame me for every single bad thing that’s happened to you!  You’ve made plenty of bad decisions on your own!”  His volume grew with every word.  By the end, his shouts were so loud it was hurting Ford’s ears.  Footsteps thundered towards the bathroom. 

              “Okay, boys, break it up!” Angie yelled.  She stepped between the two brothers, blocking Ford’s view of Stan.

              “He started it!” Stan snapped.

              “I don’t care!  I’m finishin’ it!” Angie retorted.  She held up her hands.  “Stanley.  Leave.”  There was a beat.  “Did ya hear me?”

              “Yeah.”  Stan’s voice was tight with barely controlled anger.  “Yeah, I did.”  He stormed out of the bathroom.  The front door slammed a few moments later.  Angie sighed.  She crouched down to Ford’s eye-height.  Her weary face came into focus.

              “Stanford, are ya okay?” she asked softly.  “If we need to go back to the vet, we can.”

              “He didn’t even touch me,” Ford said, shaking his head.

              “Good.  I’ll go talk to him in a bit once he’s cooled down.”  Ford groaned softly.  “What?”

              “You wanted him to leave the room?”

              “Or go on the porch or somethin’.  That- that was what I meant.”  Her eyes widened in panic.  “Do ya think I chose the wrong words?”  From outside, a car engine roared to life, closely followed by the squeal of tires.  Angie gasped.  “Shoot!”  She leapt up and sprinted away.  Ford heard the front door open.  “Son of a gun!”

              “He’s gone, isn’t he?” Ford called glumly.  He began to make his way to the living room, his tail low behind him.  Now that the adrenaline from the fight had faded, cold guilt was spreading through his body.

              I hit below the belt during our fight.

              “Yeah.  He is.”  Angie came into the living room, joining Ford.  “Why did he react like that?”

              Because of what happened the last time he was told to leave.

              “In his defense, I also interpreted your command as you wanting him to leave the house,” Ford said, avoiding the real answer and her gaze.  “Your phrasing could have been better.”

              “Oh, shut up,” Angie said under her breath.  Ford blinked in surprise at her irritated tone.  She grabbed the keys for the pickup truck out of the bowl they were kept in.  “I’m goin’ after him.”

              “I’ll come with,” Ford said quickly.

              “No.  Stay here.  It’s too dangerous fer ya.”

              “But-”

              “No buts.”  Angie left the room, muttering to herself.  “He might be at the diner…”  Ford waited until he heard the front door close and the pickup drive off before leaping into action.  Angie was intelligent in many ways, but she didn’t know Stan like he did.

              Stan won’t be at the diner.  He’ll be at the lake.  Ford hurried into the kitchen.  He crawled through the doggy door Angie had installed in the backdoor and sprinted on all fours towards the lake.  Hopefully I’ll get there before he leaves town for good.

-----

              To Ford’s relief, when he finally arrived at the lake, covered in mud, leaves, and scratches, Stan’s car was still there.  An even bigger relief was that it was the only car there.

              I acted without thinking about the fact there could be people here other than Stan.  Ford slowed to a walk.  Thank Moses there aren’t.  He made his way to the pier.  Only once he was halfway down could he make out the blurry figure that was his brother.  Stan looked over his shoulder at the sound of Ford’s footsteps.

              “Stanford?” Stan asked.  Ford reached him.  He collapsed onto the damp wood, completely exhausted from his run.  “What are you doing here?”

              “Looking… for you…” Ford panted.

              “I’m guessing Angie gave you a ride,” Stan grunted.  Ford shook his head.  “You walked here?”

              “Ran,” Ford corrected as he sat on his hind legs.

              “You ran here?  On the arm that just got a cast removed?”  Concern shone in Stan’s voice.  He reached out and gently pressed Ford’s small right arm.  “Any pain?”

              “No.”

              “Good.”  Stan retrieved his hand.  “That was stupid as all hell.  You gotta take it easy when you finish healing from something major like that.”

              “Angie left without me and headed for the diner to look for you.  I knew you wouldn’t be there.  I had to get here before you left,” Ford explained.

              “…Why?” Stan asked softly.  Ford raised his head to look at Stan.  Stan was facing away from him.

              “What do you mean?”

              “Why did you wanna talk to me?  We’re not friends anymore.  And Angie made it damn clear you don’t want me around.”

              “She didn’t mean for you to leave the house.  She wanted you to leave the room.”

              “Then why didn’t she say it like that?”

              “She doesn’t know about the last time you were told to leave,” Ford said quietly.  Stan’s head whipped around to look at him.  “Angie doesn’t know anything about our past.  I didn’t tell her about my failed attempt to get into West Coast Tech, or the night you were kicked out.  Hell, I didn’t even tell her about you!”

              “And you call her your friend,” Stan snorted.

              “Communication is something that our family has historically been very bad at.”

              “Fair enough,” Stan muttered.  He sighed.  “You didn’t answer my question, though.  Why are you here?”

              “I didn’t want you to leave.  At least, not like this.”  Ford sat closer to lean against Stan’s lap.  “The past few days have been…difficult.”  Stan snorted again.  “But I’ve been enjoying your company.”

              “Even when we piss each other off?” Stan asked quietly.

              “We pissed each other off at our closest,” Ford said dismissively.

              “This week has been worse than it used to be.”

              “Yes.  But…”  Ford fidgeted.  “It’s better than worrying you’re dead in a ditch somewhere.”  In the long pause that stretched, Ford could hear faint conversation from his fellow amphibians on the lakeshore.

              “Did you really worry?” Stan asked finally.

              “Of course.”

              “But you were still pissed at me.”

              “The two emotions are not mutually exclusive.  Particularly for siblings.  You should hear Angie talk about her older sister sometime.”

              “Does she hate her?”

              “No.  It’s…complicated.  As I understand it, she looks up to and loves her sister, but at the same time has a serious inferiority complex regarding her.”

              “I know how that is,” Stan said under his breath.  Ford winced but didn’t say anything.  “…I worried about you, too.”  Ford frowned.

              “Really?”

              “With Shermie and me both gone, all of Mom and Pops’ attention went to you.  I knew Mom would just be a bit, uh, I dunno, smothering, but Pops…”

              “He didn’t lay a hand on me.”

              Not like he did with you.

              “That’s not the only way to fuck someone up.”

              “True.”  Ford shook his head.  “But I’ve been fine.”

              “I dunno, man.  A vet stuck her finger up your ass this week,” Stan said.  Ford’s cheeks burned.

              “Angie told-”

              “Nah.”  Stan snickered.  “I was just guessing.  That really happened?”

              “I don’t want to talk about it,” Ford mumbled.  Stan snickered again.  “Look, Stan-”

              “You were right,” Stan blurted out.  “Everything- everything that happened, it was all my fault.  I should’ve told you about your stupid whatever project breaking so that you could fix it in time.  But I didn’t.”

              “I’m not faultless.  I didn’t stand up for you when you were kicked out.  If I had…”

              “Pops mighta kicked you out, too.”

              “Then at least you wouldn’t have been alone.”

              “Yeah…”  A silence fell, but companionable instead of tense.  “That would’ve been nice,” Stan said finally.  “Being alone sucks.”

              “Do you want to stay?” Ford asked quietly.  Stan tensed.

              “I don’t want charity.”

              “It’s not charity.  You’d have to earn your keep by helping out.  Ideally, more than you have been.  Angie’s been managing everything.  It would be nice to give her a break.”  Stan grunted wordlessly.  “I wouldn’t mind having you around for a bit longer.”

              “If you insist,” Stan said slowly, “I guess I can stick around until we get sick of each other.”

              “Thanks, Stanley.”

              “No problem, Sixer.”  To Ford’s surprise, Stan suddenly pulled him into a tight embrace.  Ford returned the gesture to the best of his ability.  A strange, powerful burning sensation filled his body, making him gasp.  By the time his gasp finished, he was no longer a large, pastel salamander.

              He was human.

              Stan broke off from the hug, staring at him.

              “Y’know, part of me was still convinced that this whole thing about you being a lizard was some weird lie,” Stan said.  He raised an eyebrow.  “When did you dye your hair?”

              “What do you mean?” Ford asked.

              “You’ve got a blue thing in your hair.  What do they call it?  A highlight?  Streak?”

              “What?  I didn’t-” Ford started.  He was cut off by the sound of a car door slamming.  He and Stan looked over.  Angie stood at the start of the pier, her arms crossed.

              “I hate to break up such a warm, brotherly makeup,” she called in an amused voice, “but we should prob’ly get back home ‘fore Stanford gets arrested fer public nudity.”

[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