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illdowhatiwantthanks · 2 months ago

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Home Again

Does anyone even read Hunger Games fanfics anymore?? I don't know, and I don't really care! I recently reread the series to get out of a reading slump, and now I'm hyperfixating again so... you guys get this which will probably turn into a multipart series because I FEEL LIKE IT, OKAY? Tl;dr: I'll do what I want.

Johanna Mason x fem!reader Warnings: Massive HUGE warnings for violence, blood, murder, etc., but also an especially HUGE warning for sexual assault, trauma in general, explicit language (let me know if I've missed anything) Word count: 2.5k

Summary: You're freshly home from winning the 73rd Hunger Games, and all you really want is for things to go back to normal for you and your brother. But now you're in the Victor's Village. And now Johanna Mason, who won the year before you, is your neighbor.

It’s not that you didn’t like the house in the Victor’s Village. It was objectively better than the cabin you and Leevee had lived in before. But at the cabin, you’d had neighbors. People who knew you, who looked after you and Leevee after the fever took your parents, even though you insisted you work in exchange for every loaf of bread, every mended pair of pants.

You took care of him as best you could, after your parents died. You dropped out of school and went to work in the lumber yards. Leevee went to school, of course, but his teachers didn’t teach him much of anything. There was something different about him, a bit off. Always had been, since he was born. The people in Seven called him slow, and maybe he was in some ways, but he was also kind and bighearted and quick to laugh and full of joy–traits hard-pressed to come by in a place like this. So everyone took to him and everyone looked out for him. They had a name for his affliction in the Capitol. But you didn’t like them naming something wrong with Leevee, as if what made him different was all there was to him. So you paid it no mind. To you, he was just your Leevee. Perfect just like he was.

It was hard to believe it'd only been three weeks since the Reaping. When your name had been called, you kept your eyes lasered in on the branches of a pine tree in the distance. You could hear Leevee calling your name from the crowd, confused about why you were on stage, and your heart felt like it was being pulled apart. But you would not cry. You wouldn’t let these Capitol people see you cry. It was not for them to see.

Your neighbor, Otta, a widow, had brought Leevee to see you before you had to leave. Only then did you let yourself cry and, even then, he hadn’t understood. He’d taken his handkerchief out of his pocket and pressed it to your face, and you told him to listen to Otta and the neighbors. That you were going away and you might not be back for a while, but that you loved him very much. Listen to Otta, you said. Keep those listening ears on, young man. And then he was gone. Or, rather, you were.

Before the Games, you hadn’t fancied your chances at winning. Sure, you were strong and, at eighteen, one of the oldest tributes. But you were very small, barely five feet tall, lithe and wiry. You could handle a saw and an ax fairly well from your time in the lumber yard, but you couldn’t imagine sawing through someone. You couldn’t imagine killing someone at all. Even worse was the thought of Leevee watching you kill someone or watching you die. You hoped Otta would cover his eyes.

The arena was the only thing in your favor during the 73rd Hunger Games. A coastal ecosystem. Not rainforest, like parts of Seven, but tall, spindly pines that bent in the wind. It wasn’t exactly like home, but you were nothing if not comfortable around trees. Your saving grace in the Games turned out to be your size. The trees were impossible but all for the smallest of the tributes–you and the youngest–to climb. The first night you spent in one of those pines, you thought you might crash to your death from all the swaying, but once you acclimated, it was like the tree was rocking you. It would have been nice if not for the cannons in the air, if not for the constant terror.

You managed to find plants to eat, to catch fish in the small river that trickled into the artificial ocean. Your Games lasted six days, and you spent most of it in the trees.

That last night… You knew you’d have to kill him. The Career from One. But he was so big–a full foot and a half taller than you and stocky to boot–and vicious. You didn’t even have a real weapon, just some river rocks and a bit of your shirt you’d been using as a sling. But One–you didn’t even like to hear his name now, didn’t like to remember it–he’d found the superior weapon. You’d woken up to your tree shaking, to the tell-tale crackling and groaning of a trunk in distress. One had an ax, and the trees here were so spindly, it’d be a matter of minutes before it toppled, especially with your weight at the top. You tried to scramble down far enough that when the tree fell, you wouldn’t die from it, but you still had a long way to go when the trunk cracked.

It was the landing that did you in. You hit the ground so hard it knocked your breath out. Knocked your brain pretty good, too, based on how blurry everything was afterward. You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe for a few seconds, and that few seconds was all One needed. He was on top of you, and the weight of him made it even harder to catch your breath. You were faintly aware of your body fighting back, but it was like fighting back against a mountain. You screamed when he stabbed long hunting knives into either of your forearms, all the way through, pinning you to the ground, and almost passed out from the pain. This was it. This was how you'd die. You’d like to say you thought of Leevee, but all you thought of was how scared you were.

But… he wasn’t killing you. He wasn’t getting another weapon. He was… undressing? And suddenly you remembered that there were things worse than death. You screamed and screamed until your throat gave out. You didn’t care who saw you cry now, couldn’t have stopped the tears if you’d wanted to. People didn’t do this in the Games. They murdered each other. They hurt each other. They tore one another to bits. But they didn’t do this. Surely, the Capitol wouldn’t let this happen, wouldn’t let this air on TV. There was a line, surely. But as soon as you thought it, the hope left your body deflated and empty except for the man–the boy, mere months older than you–grunting above you. There was no line. Not where the Capitol was involved.

But somewhere in your pain-addled brain, you realized that he was… occupied, which meant he wasn’t keeping a close enough eye on his weapons. You screamed as you wrenched one of your arms out of the ground and pulled the knife from your other wrist. There was a moment, right at the last second, where he looked up and understood what you were doing, but it was too late by then. The last thing you remembered from the arena was plunging the knife into his neck.

When they made you watch the replay of your “victory,” you’d hardly recognized yourself. Covered in blood, lips curled up in a snarl, as if you were an animal. You hadn’t stopped at his neck. You’d stabbed him over and over and over. You’d stabbed his genitals so many times there was nothing left but a mangled, bloody mess. And then you’d passed out.

And, to be frank, you could never bring yourself to feel any remorse over it. For the others you’d killed, the ones who’d happened by your perch over the river, and died quickly from a stone to the temple–you felt awful. It tore you apart. But One? For what he had done to you, he deserved every moment of his gruesome, painful death.

Now that you were back in Seven, back with Leevee, and moved into the Victor’s Village, you knew that it would never be the same. Not with the people that knew you before. Everyone looked at you like a wounded animal, like someone to be pitied. The assault had traumatized the entire nation. Even the Capitol viewers had so disliked the “assault narrative,” that the Games Committee had put forth a blanket statement that, in the future, sexual violence would be met with a swift and immediate death. One of your old neighbors told you that you should feel proud that you made a difference in the future games, protecting future tributes. You’d gone home and vomited, as you did every night after you woke up screaming, sweating, feeling the weight of One on top of you.

Your solace these days was Leevee. You were struggling to get used to the isolation of the Victor’s Village, even though your tendency now was to isolate yourself anyway. He was so happy to have you back. He didn’t really understand where you’d gone. Otta and the others had told him you were “camping,” and that’s where you were when he saw you on the screens.

You didn’t need to work in the lumber yard anymore, so you spent long days with Leevee. Now that you had time, you were teaching him things that the instructors at school didn’t bother with, like how to read. And you’d left school so early to take care of him that you had learning to do, too. There wasn’t much of a library to speak of, in Seven, but oddly enough your house at the Victor’s Village had come stocked with books, and you were making your way through all of them.

Your favorite part of the day was your afternoon walk with Leevee. Long and leisurely. You spent a lot of time at the fountain in the center of the Victor’s houses. You gave him stones to throw in and fished them out, barefoot in the water. You had the fountain and the Village pretty much to yourself. Just Blight, who kept to himself, and Johanna, who’d won two years ago. You had known Johanna a little, at school, but you'd never spoken much, just in passing. You’d dropped out so early, there hadn’t been much time for friends.

Johanna seemed to have built some kind of improvised woodshop outside of her house, and she was out there quite a bit, but you never approached her. She didn’t seem like the kind of person who took kindly to strangers, especially since her Games, two years before yours. She’d been belligerent and hostile in the Capitol and, in retaliation, they’d killed her family. Officially, of course, they’d died of the fever. Unofficially, Snow’s roses, left on each of their deathbeds for Johanna to find when she’d returned from a day in the forest, were warning enough.

But you noticed her watching you on your walks with Leevee, when you played with him at the fountain. Felt her eyes on you and tried to ignore them. They were like everyone else’s–full of pity. And you were so tired of being pitied. Yes, it had been awful. Yes, there were nights that you jerked awake and wished One had just killed you instead of leaving you like this. But then who would Leevee have? He needed you.

One day, when you and Leevee walked past Johanna's house on the way to the fountain, you found her sitting on her porch steps, staring as usual. Her eyes were hard and direct, and you found it hard to meet them. You were tired of this. So tired.

“Leevee, go ahead to the fountain, young man. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Leevee happily ran ahead, and you whipped your head around to face Johanna, pulling yourself into as imposing a figure as you could manage in your tiny frame. Which, given that you had stabbed a man to death, was maybe more than you could hope for otherwise.

You glared at her, finally meeting her cool eyes. “Stop looking at me like that,” you spat, your voice steady and sharp.

Johanna looked almost… amused? She stood and walked toward you, smirking. “Like what, half-pint?”

You hadn’t really expected her to engage with you at all, and you were losing confidence quickly. Johanna was taller than you, more confident than you, cooler than you, tougher than you, prettier than you. You stopped yourself. Prettier? Who cares about prettier?!

“Like you feel sorry for me! Look at me like an animal or a fucking murderer, I don’t care. Just…” You deflated slightly, shifting your eyes to the ground. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Johanna was quiet for a moment, as if she was sizing you up. You wished you could tell what she was thinking. You wanted Johanna to like you or at least tolerate you but, then, did Johanna actually like anybody?

“Okay,” she said and shrugged. You couldn’t quite believe it. Would it really be that easy? “I’ll look at you like you are.”

“Like I am?”

“Mmhm.”

You waited for her to elaborate, but she never did, instead turning and walking back toward her porch. You shook your head and went to meet Leevee by the fountain. You hoped you hadn’t fucked it up. Was this Johanna’s version of friendly? You weren’t really sure. You got the feeling you’d know if she didn’t like you.

“Hey, Y/N!”

You stopped and looked behind you to find Johanna trotting up, holding something in her hands. She handed you the object–a small sailboat carved out of wood. You looked at the boat–so smooth, so beautifully crafted–and then at Johanna, confused.

“For your brother,” she explained. “To use in the fountain. It’s made of cedar, so it’ll float.”

You were stunned speechless, watching Johanna, who kept her eyes on some fixed point in the distance and wrung her hands as if she were… nervous? Johanna, nervous? And suddenly, she didn’t seem so intimidating to you, this girl who’d orchestrated a bloodbath to win the Games. Who’d been so filled with rage and hurt by the part she’d been forced to play, only to have everyone she loved taken from her. She wasn’t scary at all, you realized. Not really. She was like you. She was a scared, angry girl who’d done what she had to do to survive.

“Anyway,” she said, eager for the moment to end. “See you never, shortstuff.” She hurried back toward her house, but you yelled after her.

“Hey, Johanna! You could go on a walk with us sometime. You know, if you wanted.”

“Why would I want to hang out with you!?” she called without turning back.

You grinned. So Johanna might take a little work. That was okay. You had time. You had nothing but time now.

You approached Leevee, who was finding nearby sticks to throw in the fountain.

“Hey, young man,” you said, beckoning him over. “Look at this! Johanna made it for you!”

And, oh, you wished she could have seen his eyes light up. You had a hunch that she was still watching, from her window or her woodshop or wherever she’d planted herself. Leevee could melt anyone’s heart, even yours. Maybe even hers.

#the hunger games #johanna mason #johanna mason x reader #johanna mason x fem!reader #johanna mason fanfic #the hunger games fanfic

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thelastspeecher · 2 months ago

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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.

#Gravity Falls #Gravity Falls AU #Axolotl Ford AU #Stanford Pines #Stanley Pines #Angie McGucket #fanfiction #my writing #my stuff #speecher speaks

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tumblerose-art-studio · 2 months ago

Text

Okay so On my main I made a chart for a potential Gravity Falls Swap AU and decided to draw this universe's Gideon, named Gulden Krypto, a Mind Demon, known for appearing to people in over their heads and need guidance, usually Fortune Tellers, Oracles, people with social anxiety, etc.

He meets Dr. Mason "Dipper" Pines when Dipper utters an ancient incantation and finds his mind invaded by Gulden in his sleep, claiming to be a Muse who will help Dipper unlock the secrets of Gravity Falls.

Gulden's Design is heavily based on Gideon's Pendant from The Hand That Rocks The Mabel, The Name Gulden derives from the Dutch and German word for a Gold Coin, I think it works rather well, I also gave him a Cowboy Hat because in the show Gideon wears those surprisingly often.

#tumblerose doodles #gravity falls #gravity falls swap au #relativity falls #gideon gleeful #bill cipher #dipper pines #mason pines #art #dream demon #concept design

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hannahhook7744 · 2 months ago

Note

Got any Foulfellow sibling aka The 3 kids of Honest John and Gideon hc ? (Dante , Mateo and Julieanna Foulfellow )

Mateo, featured on the left, is a part of Uma's crew and is a very loyal member.

Dante (featured in the middle) is a loner conman.

Julieanna, featured on the right, is a conwoman with only one friend (that friend being Sabina Stromboli).

Dante is the oldest at 18, Mateo is the middle child at 16, and Julieanna is the youngest at 13 (in d1).

Honest John and Gideon try to make family dinners mandatory for all 3 of their kids because they want to be a normal family sometimes.

Dante and Julieanna are partners in crime. Mateo does not get involved most of the time because he's tired of their antics most of the time. That doesn't mean he NEVER gets involved though.

This gives him ‘the benefit of the doubt’ from their dads whenever the three of them get in trouble.

Dante can be described as responsable, serious, and stoic. As well as a loner and a conman.

Mateo can be described as an anxious mess, overprotective, and firey when pissed off. Mischievous with those he knows really well. Like with Uma's crew.

Julieanna can be described as a hyperactive, mischievous, impulsive, short sighted con woman. Some might even call her a thieving brat (but not within earshot of her older brothers).

Honest John and Gideon tried to get all three of their kids to fill out applications but Mateo refused, feeling that it would be a betrayal to Uma. He respected his siblings' choice to fill them out, however.

All three siblings aren't really big fans of school and it's one of the few things they can agree on.

Mateo is better at scamming people than either of his siblings.

Dante is the worst at scamming people and had gotten roughed up on more than one occasion when a con’s gone south. Which has caused both of his siblings (and his dads) to have to play nurse for him.

Dante has absolutely no friends and doesn't want any.

Julieanna’s future boyfriend, Pin, has to gain the approval of both of her brothers…which will not be easy.

They all use very outdated slang and no one knows what the heck they're saying.

Dante wants to be a pilot, Mateo doesn't have much of an idea of what he wants to do outside of being a pirate, and Julieanna wants to be a famous tap dancer.

They have some outdated hobbies as well.

Once the barrier is brought down, the three of them adore the auradon video games (and have fought over them) almost as much as they do Dr. Facilier's arcade games.

One of which is the Go Go Ballroom dancing game that Julieanna cheats at. Even if she won't admit it.

Julieanna is the best dancer and Dante is the worst.

Mateo’s best friends are the Gothel twins (Mason and Glenn). He doesn't have many friends outside of the crew but he also doesn't have many enemies either.

Mateo likes Diego de Vil’s music. Dante and Julieanna very much do not.

Mateo’s favorite colors are gray and blue, Dante’s are black and red, and Julieanna's are pine green and white (but she also likes gray and black).

Julieanna’s favorite food is water pie, Mateo’s is potato candy, and Dante’s is bacon roll ups.

Dante can't stand water pie but Mateo tolerated it.

Mateo hates bacon roll ups and Julieanna tolerates them.

The three of them all love 'State Fair Cream Puffs' and hate 'torta de coco' though (look, Honest John and Gideon suck at that particular dish. It's not their fault).

Honest John and Gideon got Julieanna when she was a few hours old as payment for a debt one of the Bimbettes (no one is quite sure which one) owed them. They got Dante the same way that year and Mateo the same way as well a year after that.

Dante has anger issues because of this and doesn't want any friends because he's scared they'll leave him like his real parents did. Nobody but him, Honest John, and Gideon know who his real parents are.

Julieanna doesn't know or want to know who her birth parents are. She's happy enough with the parents she has.

Mateo doesn't remember who his parents are but they are the route of his anxiety. Only Honest John and Gideon know who his parents are.

Honest John and Gideon refuse to tell anyone who the birth kids of their kids are because it's no one else's business but their own.

Dante has a glass eye collection. Everyone is too scared to ask where he got them.

Mateo has a weapon's collection. Honest John and Gideon have tried and failed to confiscate them.

Mateo nearly drowned in d2 during the pirates vs core four and co fight after he got kicked into the water. Hardy Hearts saved him.

Honest John and Gideon tried to get him to quit the crew after that but Mateo (loudly for once) refused.

Dante has pink-ish skin, blue ovalish shaped eyes, and short slightly curly black hair. He's also shorter than Mateo which infuriates him. He has a crooked nose from the three times it's been broken as well as one on his chin and behind his left ear.

Mateo has light tawny skin, big brown eyes, and short coiled dark brown hair. He has a hook shaped scar on his nose (Harry was very sorry about that).

Julieanna has pale skin, freckles, big green eyes, and copper red hair that goes down to her shoulders. She also has a scar on her left cheek.

#descendants #disney descendants #melissa de la cruz #disney #descendants au #wicked world #disney descendants au #the foulfellows #honest john x gideon #descendants ocs #disney descendants ocs #etc

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tfc2211 · 11 months ago

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Play ▶ Pine Sap (Christmas Music Mix, Various Artists)

Intro Santa Claus Is Coming to Town - The Ventures Boogie Woogie Santa Claus - Lionel Hampton & His Orchestra What Child Is This? - The Border Brass Winter Weather (Remix) - Joe Williams And Harry Sweets Edison Where Did My Snowman Go? - Molly Bee Too Fat for the Chimney - Gisele MacKenzie Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow - Les Brown & His Band of Renown Jingle Bells (Fattback Style) - Brother Yusef Christmas Time (PT.1) - Jimmy McCracklin The Little Drummer Boy - The Anita Kerr Singers All The Bells - The Bandana Splits Nuttin' for Christmas - The Fontane Sisters Snowy White Snow and Jingle Bells - Vaughn Monroe Jingle Bells - The Ramsey Lewis Trio Sleigh Bell Rock - Three Aces & A Joker Santa Won't Be Blue This Christmas - Jimmy Charles Jingle Bell Slide - Jack Scott Jingle Bell Imitations - Bobby Rydell & Chubby Checker Santa Claus Is Coming to Town - Betty Glamann Goose Fat - Dr. Rubberfunk If Santa Don't Bring You No Funk - Big Sugar feat. Wide Mouth Mason Jingle Bells - Thundersmack Merry Christmas - Al and the Vibrators Reggae Reggae Christmas - Boss Capone All I Want For Christmas Is You (Reggae Remix) - Mariah Carey Button Up Your Overcoat - Jonathan Stout and his Campus Five Santa Claus Is Back In Town - Elvis Presley Punching the Christmas Tree - James Kochalka Superstar I'll Be Home For Christmas - The Bandana Splits Blue Christmas - Joel Paterson Noël Blanc - Jacqueline François Jingle Boogie - Howard Carter Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas - Poncho Sanchez Brazillian Sleigh Bells - Ferrante And Teicher

#Christmas Music Compilation #Christmas Music

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pin3-tree · 1 year ago

Note

That's kinda rude.

But (thanks to kat!!) The highlighted letters spell "Axolotl."

"oOoh i feel like im in dAanger" Pine Tree exclaims as he cant do ANYYYTHING without making a voice crack that could shatter you glasses a second time. Pleaaase.

What?

#dr mason #6 nerd #i feel like i should be offended but im not #pin3 tree #dipper pines

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thecardiovascular-system · 1 year ago

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🫀INTRO THING🫀

atlas - he/it 🐦‍⬛

frodrick - it/he 🍓

shard - it/they 🐉

good lird we look like the christmas crew over here

shut up

NEW PERSON WE ARE NO LONGER THE CHRISTMAS CREW‼️‼️‼️

kinger - he/him ♟️

allsi - it/bone/dark/light 👁️‍🗨️

mason - he/it 🖍️

ghost - she/he/it/burn/meat 🕯️

General Mangrove - he/they/it 🌳

Cain/Violet - he/they 📱

ramsey - he/they 🐀

andromeda - she/they/it 🐦

pine - he/it/they/plush/soft 🦕

archer - he/it/they/arrow/caw 🏹

liam - he/they 🎒

mess - they/it ✉️

Jon - he/they/it 📚

The Sad Conductor - he/they/it 🚇

Phoenix - any pronouns 🌷

Websurfer - they/it/he 🏄‍♂️

Ricky/Savannah - xe/zir/she/he/they/it/meow/cat/space/star 👾

Spud! - he/she/they 🥔

Pest - he/they 🪲

Crowley - he/any 🐍

Tpm - he/they 🟣

DR. SUNSHINE - ANY PRONOUNS ☀️

henry - they/xe/hymn/it 🫐

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sovengardeswag · 2 years ago

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The Pines Files

After the events of Weirdmaggeddon, Dipper and Mabel are contacted by the SCP foundation and join the ranks. The adventure never ended, it just took a different turn. And now, years later, they're back to Gravity Falls, aka SCP-████. And it is up to them to investigate the ever-growing mystery behind the town and protect the most dangerous and important SCPs there are and face their past.

Chapter One: Deal With The Devil

Dr. Mason Pines stared at himself in the mirror, hands gripping the sink, and wondered what his life had become. Sure, he knew what he’d signed up for, but still. He hated this. The near constant testing, the things that went on in this place. The dark circles under his eyes were as bad as they had ever been, and he was pretty sure he had gray hairs. Working where he did could do that to a guy. Mason let the water drip from his face before getting some paper towels and drying himself off, leaving his birthmark exposed. It felt like just yesterday he was a little kid.

He and Mabel had only been thirteen when they’d been approached. It was any other September day. The air was turning colder, they had started to settle into their school routine, and they were walking home together as they always had. He was listening to her talk all about her art class, where she had drawn some bits of a fun dream she had, but made a few modifications of course. “Those colors aren’t really possible in pencil, ya know! So I made up for it by putting on lots of glitters! Ms. Walker said I had a lot of imagination! But she also told me I’ll probably have to tone it down for the style units. I don’t think I’ll need to though.”

He’d been nodding along as she talked, writing down a little bit in his pocket journal. He was listening of course, but he also needed to keep track of all of his own little discoveries and theories. However, he was quickly pulled out of both Mabel’s retelling of events and his writings when they turned a corner. Right there, at their house, was a black van, “Mabel. Mabel!” He tugged on her sweater sleeve a little bit.

“I wonder if I should start drawing-” she stopped dead when he pulled on her sleeves and brought her attention to that van. Her eyes widened as she looked at Dipper, “I thought Great Uncle Ford wiped all those government guys’ memories with the mind eraser thingy.”

Dipper gripped the straps of his backpack, telling Mabel, “Maybe it’s not them. Maybe Mom and Dad are working on with some clients.” But even back then, he knew that was just something he said to comfort his sister. “Come on, let’s just head inside. It’s not like we can avoid them forever.”

And so they walked into their house, Dipper calling out, “Mom? Dad? You guys home?” before the two dropped their backpacks and headed into the living room. And their parents were certainly there, but they weren’t the only ones. Sitting on the couch, drinking coffee, were two people. Both were men, one was wearing a suit, sunglasses, and an earpiece. The other was dressed in a sweater and khakis, staring at Waddles as the pot-bellied pig sniffed him.

Their mother waved them over, telling them, “Mabel, Dipper, your father and I were just talking about you and your great uncles to Agent Young and Dr. Gordon. About what happened last summer. They wanted to talk to you.” Her eyes darted between her children and the armed agent taking a sip of his coffee.

Before either twin could answer, Dr. Gordon was up, approaching the two children with a flashlight, their father telling him, “Hey wait! We told you our children aren’t anomalies or whatever! They’re just kids!”

As Dr. Gordon shined a light in Dipper’s ear, he retorted with, “Yes, I know what you said. But you never know with twins! Especially not after that incident.” He then turned off the flashlight and inspected Mabel’s eyes, holding one of them open. “Did you have any sugar today Miss Pines?”

“Y-yeah! I mean no! I mean- Why do you wanna know?” The poor girl was sweating already.

Dr. Grant, completely ignoring her terror, told her, “So that’s a yes.” He went to sit back down, the agent with him nodding towards the other couch. “Let’s get to business then. Have a seat. Your parents filled us in on the situation, but we want to hear from you two.”

“And what situation would that be, exactly?” Dipper was clenching and unclenching his fists. Not sure if he should run away or be honest as he headed onto the couch and sat down, Mabel fidgeting with her hands a little bit as she joined him.

The agent spoke this time, telling the two, “Well, our biggest concern is how you managed to stop an apocalypse-level threat at only twelve years old. And the other is the location of Stanford and Stanely Pines. We want all the details of what happened.”

Dipper, having learned to not trust government agents, asked, “Depends, why do you want to know? And who are you guys anyway?” Mabel was beckoning Waddles over, not wanting him too close to Dr. Gordon.

Agent Young put his coffee down on the table and looked directly at Dipper, telling him, “Smart kid, making sure you know who you’re dealing with. We’re not government if that’s what you’re wondering. We’re from an independent organization that tracks, studies, and contains anomalies. Your uncle, or, I suppose, uncles, have been on our radar for a long long time. And that incident you stopped, well, you wouldn’t expect that kind of work from civilians, let alone children. Minimal casualties, clean termination. Our question is how two preteens and a couple of madmen did that.”

Mabel spoke up, asking, “How do we know you’re not gonna take us to jail after this?”

Dr. Gordon told the kids, “You have our word. Also, Agent Young can give you his handcuffs.”

“What?”

“Just go with it, Young.”

Agent Young hesitated, but he handed his cuffs over to Mabel, who held onto them as if her life depended on it. “Ok, so, Bill possessed Blendin and told me he could make a time bubble to make summer last longer because me and Dipper had a fight and I didn’t wanna grow up so I gave him a weird globe thing that turned out to be a space rift so Dipper and our friends Wendy and Soos had to get me out of a prison Bill put me in and I realized growing up wouldn’t be so bad so we went back to the shack and met up with Grunkle Stan and some of our other friends and made the shack into a big mecha and went to attack Bill and save Great Uncle Ford though that didn’t stop him we got into his pyramid anyways and managed to distract him and Grunkle Stan and Ford came up with the idea to switch places cause they’re identical twins and Bill wouldn’t be able to tell the difference and once Bill went into Grunkle Stan’s mind Great Uncle Ford wiped his mind and that killed Bill and we had to fix Grunkle Stan’s memories and now they’re on a boat but we don’t know where!”

The agent and the scientist both blinked, Mabel finally taking a breath and still gripping those handcuffs with all the strength in her little hands. Agent Young looked to Dipper and asked, “Mind filling in the gaps, son?”

Dipper considered lying, he considered refusing to elaborate. He really did. But something told him they’d just find out. They found out where his family lived, they had known about Stan and Ford. How did he know that they wouldn’t just already know about what had happened? So, he told the truth, about Bill, Blendin, everything. He watched them nod along and his parents cringe at the messier details. He knew that they thought it was all imagination on Mabel’s end. He’d hoped it would stay like that.

Dr. Gordon had been writing this down the whole time and when Dipper was done, he closed his notebook. “That should finish up the incident report. Now, onto business. The big reason we’re here is that you managed to take down the threat. We had operatives in Gravity Falls at the time, and yet, you fixed it. And, as Young said, there weren’t any civilian casualties, aside from your uncle’s memories. However, your uncles are still responsible for all this. In normal circumstances, we’d be interrogating you for their location. However, seeing as they’ve left the site and are a minimal threat, we want to make you an offer.”

“When you kids are older, we want you to be a part of our foundation. We could use people like you on the payroll. And in exchange for your cooperation, we’d be willing to let your uncles go. We’d be willing to pay for your education on top of that, as long as it’s relevant to the foundation.”

Dipper squinted. They were offering… a job? To teenagers? “What’s the catch?”

“Smart kid. The catch is that once you take this offer, there’s no turning back. If you reject the offer or leave, we’ll have to arrest your uncles if we encounter them. We’d wipe your memory of not just us, but that whole summer. You would be completely safe, but it’ll be as if the summer never happened. And as if you never met your uncles. So, the choice is yours.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re telling me that my kids, who are thirteen, mind you, have to join your weird organization, or else you’re going to arrest our uncles? Do you know how insane that sounds? What makes you think you can blackmail them, anyway?” Dipper’s blood ran cold at that moment. He’d never heard his father swear like that before.

And then Mrs. Pines chimed in. “Alex is absolutely right, you’re not doing this to our kids! And we’re not just going to let you arrest my husband’s uncles either! He JUST got his uncle Ford back! Honestly, we should just call the police on you. I don’t care if you supposedly have authority, y-.” And then their parents went down, hitting the carpeted floor as the twins yelled out in horror, Waddles squealed. Agent Young was holding a gun.

“Relax, they’re not dead, they were hit with a sedative and amnestic. They’ll wake up and won’t remember a thing about us coming to your home.” And indeed. Their parents were still breathing. Instead of bullet holes, there were small darts. Only noticeable now that it was pointed out.

“W-why would you knock them out and make them forget?” Dipper’s voice cracked as he said it. Dr. Gordon pushed his glasses up, trying to lure Waddles out from his hiding spot under the couch.

“Simple, this isn’t their decision, it’s yours. You’re only thirteen, that much is true, but you’re also already thirteen. A lot of kids don’t get to live that long because of anomalies, like the ones you stopped. Some get to your age and end up suffering in ways you could never conceive of. Imagine what you can do when you’re eighteen, twenty-five, or thirty. The kids just like you who you’d save. Not to mention the huge favor you would be doing for your uncles. Wouldn’t it be nice to do them a favor? To save them the way they saved you?”

Mabel and Dipper looked at each other. These guys had a point. They couldn’t just let their uncles get arrested. And they certainly didn’t want to forget the summer. But, this was also a shadowy organization. Dipper knew that they were thinking the same thing. “Can we think on it a little bit? Before we make the decision?”

“Not overnight,” Young said, knowing exactly what they were thinking. “Your parents will wake up within the hour, so you have a little less than that to decide.”

To that, the twins got up from the couch, heading up to their room. Waddles came out from under the couch to follow them, though it was a tight squeeze for him. When they got to their room, Dipper set out to look for anything that looked bugged, and Mabel turned her stuffed animals away. “I don’t trust them, Dipper.”

“Yeah, neither do I! Mabel, they knocked out Mom and Dad! Honestly, how do we even know that they haven’t been poisoned?” He made sure the window was closed and checked the charge on his phone.

“Because they’d either have to kidnap us or deal with CPS?” Waddles had climbed up onto Mabel’s bed after she sat on it and she was scratching his ears.

“That’s a good point.” Dipper started to pace then, thinking over their options. “Obviously, we’re not gonna let them arrest Grunkle Stan and Great Uncle Ford. But we can’t just do what they want! They’re weirdos!”

“Total weirdos.” "

But at the same time, that was the best summer of our lives! We can’t just forget that!” Mabel nodded along, watching Dipper pace ever more fretfully. “It’s like it’s a trap! Work for someplace we don’t even know about or let them ruin our lives!”

Mabel wasn’t sitting idly by as she pet Waddles, of course. As she watched the pig wiggle happily, she was having her own thoughts on the matter. Dipper’s verbalizations laying it out for her. “Maybe we can ask them to do stuff for us? Make sure they’re not evil?”

“You mean we should negotiate?” Dipper stopped his pacing and looked over at her. “

Yeah!” She slipped off her bed and headed to her drawer, pulling out some pink, strawberry-scented, lined paper and two gel pens. “We can tell them stuff we won’t do if we join them!”

“Of course! Mabel, you’re a genius!” He took a gel pen and a sheet of paper before he lay belly down on the floor. Mabel joined him, and they came up with negotiation points together.

It took 20 minutes total to think of everything they needed, and when they came downstairs, Agent Young had placed Mr. and Mrs. Pines on the couch and was currently trying to maneuver them. Probably trying to make it look like they had fallen asleep after a long day of coding and repairs. He was the one to notice that they each held a paper in their hands. “I suppose our terms weren’t enough for you?”

Dipper nodded, telling him, “We have a list of assurances, demands, that sort of thing. Just to make sure that we’re not gonna get black bagged and murdered by some weird agents. For all we know, your organization isn’t even real.”

Agent Young raised an eyebrow. “You’re not exactly in a position to make demands kid.”

“You’re the one who said we were valuable,” Dipper retorted. “And that means you want us working for you when we grow up more than you want to arrest our uncles.”

“He’s got you there,” Dr. Gordon pointed out. He was still sitting around. Not wanting to help his colleague with the heavy lifting. “Lay it on us kids.”

“First of all, we want to know exactly what you guys do and who you work for. We don’t even know who you are. For all we know, this is a trap from those government agents getting their memories back.” He passes his paper to Agent Young.

“And we want a promise that if we say no, you won’t get rid of our memories of our grunkles or the summer. We know you can get rid of only some memories. You can’t take the best summer of our lives, and it’s not like EVERYTHING that summer was weird,” Mabel added as she passed her own list of demands to Dr. Gordon. Their grunkles would at least appreciate knowing someone remembered them, especially after all that time they were ignored.

As the agent and the doctor looked over the negotiation points, they both knew the kids had a point. Dipper could see it in their faces. Agent Young told them, “We’re from the SCP foundation. It stands for Secure, Contain, Protect. We track down anomalies and capture them, keeping them from harming the populace. We work with governments but not for any government. We are beholden to no law enforcement agency. Essentially, we’re humanity’s best defense against the supernatural.” Dipper and Mabel listened to that explanation and it did not calm them down. Some weird secret foundation? A bad time all around. But they were smart kids. They kept quiet during the explanation.

“Alright then, let’s get down to business then, you’ll find our negotiation points are very clear.”

Both agent and Dr. looked at the lists properly and made the same face of confusion. “The right to maintain a supernatural Youtube channel?”

“No uniforms?”

“What kind of demands are these?”

“Simple ones. You guys are obviously a secret organization. You’re going to want to control our free time to make sure we don’t spill everything. I want assurance that you won’t shut me down if I do ghost hunting in my free time.”

“And I don’t wanna wear a uniform! I’ve never worn one before and I’m not gonna start just cause I’m working for a secret monster jail!” Gordon and Young thought for a moment.

“You can have your YouTube, but it’s gotta be fake or just things that the Foundation would never bother with.”

“The best I can do is to let you be able to customize your armor if you join the Mobile Task Force. Stickers, decals, that sort of thing.”

“And our summer?” Dipper crossed his arms.

“You’d really let your great uncles get arrested after making all these demands?”

“No, we just want to know that you won’t make us forget our own family if it turns out you're, like, super evil or something.”

The agent and the doctor looked at each other, clearly thinking the same thing as they looked back at the twins. “We can do this. The terms just need to be looked at by higher-ups.”

The twins nodded, those conditions were amenable. And after going over the rest of the negotiation points, it was settled.

“We’ll see you again in five years. Your parents will wake up and won’t remember a thing about us. I expect that you’ll want to tell your uncles, but I recommend that you avoid doing that. We don’t want those two on us.” And with that, both agent and doctor left, and the fates of the two children had been sealed. Because that’s what they had been, children.

Did they save the world? Sure they had, and now they had done it multiple times. But who makes two kids join an organization like this? Who threatens two kids into compliance like this? And then, there was a knock at the door.

“Dr. Pines, come back. The test next test is about to start.”

Mason groaned, and he grabbed a paper towel to dry his face. “Right, right.” And then, he left the bathroom. “Has the D-class been given 2107 yet?”

“Yes, he’s been given the variant.”

“Alright, let’s go then.” Just what he needed, to watch a man be haunted by category-10 ghosts that came from a can.

As he walked into the testing room and picked up his clipboard, Mason couldn’t help but sigh, his supervisor telling him, “Don’t be like that Pines, you’ve dealt with ghosts before.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he approached the two-way glass, watching as the D-class just sort of sat there. The diet ghost hasn’t set in yet it seemed. He wondered what took so long to test this new variant though. A “classic” flavor was bound to be stronger based on non-anomalous soda trends.

And then, it started, the guy got up and started looking around in confusion. Another scientist stated out loud for the recording, “15 minutes in, the subject has started to experience auditory hallucinations.”

The poor guy started to pace around, getting up from his chair and pacing, telling the ghost that was haunting him, “Shut up! Shut up!”

“The subject has started to show signs of distress, pacing, trying to make the voices stop.” Mason wondered where this D-class had come from. Was he a murderer? A political prisoner? He wrote down that the guy was getting scared.

And then, the real effects started to set in. The nearby video feed started to go out and the recording was starting to break, they were reliant on the two-way mirror now. “Electronics are now going out. The ghost is now affecting the subject’s surroundings.”

Did they really have to go to 270ml so fast? They had barely gotten the last guy out of the room by the time they got this guy in. And then, it started. The walls started to drip something before the flow got stronger and stronger. It was red. The guy screamed.

“The testing area has started to release a red liquid, tests will be run after the procedure is finished.”

Mason wrote down that the walls were bleeding. There was no way that wasn’t blood. This wasn’t a horror movie; that wasn’t red corn syrup. It certainly didn’t help that despite the lack of a microphone and the soundproofing, he could now hear the ghosts chanting, “Murderer, murderer, murderer!” He wrote that down. “The subject is now bleeding! I repeat the subject is now bleeding!”

From his eyes specifically, the man screamed in pain before he started to cough up blood as well. Guards began to move towards the door, knowing what was about to happen. Mason headed toward the drawer and got the ipecac. "Doctor Pines, what are you doing?"

The room was starting to look like The Shining. Blood was all over the floor from all walls. He strode right in with the agents, almost slipping on the floor as he went up to the D-class. “Come on, man, you’ve gotta take this.” He uncapped the syrup and tried to offer it to the D-class. But it was no use, as Mason tried to pour the liquid into the D-class's mouth, he just coughed up more blood, some even got on his face. There was no way they would be able to get the diet ghost out of his system. All they could do was watch, the agents taking out their mirrors in case they needed to catch the ghosts. But they found that when the D-class stopped coughing and his eyes stopped dripping, the walls stopped bleeding; the chant of “murderer,” stopped.

“The subject has expired, cause of death, blood loss. Take the day everyone.” Mason just knelt there for a bit before getting up, the body being dragged away. And to think he was having a bad day before this. He tried to wipe his face but just found that he smeared more blood on himself. Great.

He heard footsteps from behind as he got up, and heard his supervisor’s voice “Dr. Pines, you need to report to decontamination. D-57351 was due for his monthly blood test.” On top of the ghostly blood.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll go do that. Just give me a minute.” He turned to look at his supervisor. A short woman in her 50’s. Despite her height, she always had an air of intimidation to her.

“There was nothing you could have done. You know that right?”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just a lot. Didn’t expect to see a guy bleed out through his eyes and mouth.”

“Yes, well, you heard the ghosts. He wasn’t exactly a good person, don’t beat yourself over it.” She patted his shoulder, and he had to resist the urge to not let her touch him. At least he could go ahead and get clean before going home. Just as he was about to clock out though, there was a call over the Speakers. “Dr. Pines, report to Dr. Casper’s office. I repeat, report to Dr. Casper’s office.” He groaned and headed straight to there anyways.

Dr. Casper was a no-nonsense kind of woman, despite being head of spectral anomalies with a name like hers. Mason sometimes wondered if she got into ghosts because of her name or if it was a coincidence. She stopped her writing when he came in, her Newton’s cradle going clack clack clack on her desk. “Ah, Dr. Pines, you made it. Please, sit.” She gestured to one of the chairs.

As Mason sat down, he asked, “Is this about the incident with the test? I just followed the procedure. I thought he’d be able to drink the syrup, honest.” It wasn’t his fault the poor guy choked so much. “He would have expelled the diet ghost if it wasn’t for the choking-”

She raises her hand, telling him, “You’re not in trouble for that. We may not be short of D-class, but that’s no way for anyone to go. You did what procedure says you should and just couldn’t get it to work, that’s all. No, you’re here because I have an assignment for you.”

“An assignment?”

Dr. Casper nodded, telling him, “Yes. You see, I think you would benefit from some fieldwork. In the five years you’ve worked at the foundation, you’ve shown exceptional professionalism and excellent results. And in the two years you’ve worked in my department, you’ve been extremely diligent, handling ghosts about as well as people who’ve worked here for fifteen years. However, I don’t think you’re a good fit for lab work or this department.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not demoting you. Goodness no. I want you out there in the field. And I want you to focus on living anomalies. I’ve seen you run around in those videos you make, and your first incident report shows you have the quick thinking and the instincts to do more than work in just one area. Especially with your doctorate credentials.”

“Right, so, you’re saying I need to get out there and actually look for anomalies. ”

“Not exactly,” she folded her hands on top of her desk. “Look, I’ve read your contract, I know you’re not going to leave any time soon. But I want you to succeed, not just be held hostage like a D-class. As I said, you’ve already been approved.” She reached into her files and pulled out some forms. “All you need to do is agree.”

Mason looked them over, reading very carefully. You didn’t survive long in this industry without knowing exactly what you were getting into. His eyes widened once he realized what site he was sent to. Because it wasn’t just any site, it was an entire SCP. Codename: Weirdest Town In America. “You’re sending me to Gravity Falls?”

“I’m not. I’m guessing the director thought you’d do best there.” Mason thought he was being pranked at this point. This was too good to be true. But there it was. Dr. Casper’s signature was right on the line, and Dr. Bright’s signature was right on the line that said: “Director’s signature here.” And the handwriting indicating his transfer to Gravity Falls sure wasn’t in Dr. Casper’s.

“So I just sign here right?” Dr. Casper nodded and Dipper did not hesitate to sign his name. Dr. Mason Pines, Ph.D. in anomalies. He was going home.

23-5-12-3-15-5-0-20-15-0-20-8-5-0-19-3-16-0-6-15-21-14-4-1-20-9-15-14

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If you liked this fic, please check out my writing tag (Sam writes and sam's writing) here on tumblr. For author notes, please check the AO3 link in the reblogs. The hint for the code in this chapter is 0=space

#sam speaks #sam writes #sam's writing #gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #scp foundation #scp foundation fanfiction #dipper pines #mabel pines #tw blood

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