#stanley writes stuff

[fordp1nes]

favorite stan twins characterization is that they're both equally insane. stanley just gets more air time to show it off. loosely inspired by a post i read earlier but here's some absolutely insane things both of them have done

stanley:

drugged a person and turned them into an exhibit in the mystery shack

had a vegas wedding to a prospector-themed novelty dispenser

gave mabel a grappling hook

failed to steal an animatronic badger

chewed his way out of the trunk of a car

punched at least three bald eagles

is multiply divorced, possibly even with the novelty dispenser

committed premeditated murder on a llama

faked a heart attack to get on Wheel of Fortune

took his clothes off in front of a live studio audience on Wheel of Fortune

has a rivalry with a fifth grader, a grandmother, and a man who exclusively dresses like a corn cob

stanford:

pulled a gun on a bus driver when he wouldn't let a pig on board

directly assisted in mind-controlling ronald reagan during his election in 1980

gave mabel a crossbow

got bitten by a vampire bat and subsequently began sampling human blood

owns contraband outlawed in 9000 dimensions; keeps it in an extremely flimsy plastic case

"accidentally" set a hawk on fire

has exes ranging from as normal as his old college buddy to as weird as a triangle and an alien with 7 eyes who put a metal plate in his head

wears turtlenecks because he's hiding multiple tattoos he regrets, including one themed around "all star" by smash mouth

is an Extremely wanted criminal across hundreds of dimensions; was completely kicked out of one for card counting

is, bizarrely, super into the band Eurythmics

can see shrimp colors

[sleeplessdreamer14]

𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌

fandom: gravity falls

relationship: stanford pines x reader

summary: the moment Ford realized he liked you. 

contains: stan being stan, the uh-oh moment, and pining

Ford wasn’t the most social person, to put it plainly. Despite his popularity amongst his teachers at school and the odd handful of classmates, he normally preferred his own company, otherwise his family’s. It had been that way for a long time, and it seemed like it would remain so for the foreseeable future.

And so it did. That is, until he met you, which he did not see coming. 

You had this welcoming presence about you, that much was clear by the way you spoke to him for the first time in the seventh grade, remaining mostly unfazed by his sixth digit aside from the initial surprise. The first time he caught himself rambling about parapsychology and anomalistics, he found no judgment or disinterest in your expression. In fact, you were actually listening, setting down whatever you were doing just to give him your undivided attention. That was a first. It felt nice to have someone (who wasn’t his brother or mother) listen to him. 

And the energy was returned, as he indulged your interests too. Before he knew it, Ford would often seek out your company, whether his brother was available or not, and the two of you could usually be found bouncing ideas off of each other. The room seemed to brighten when you came into view, your presence made him feel comfortably warm inside. Whenever you two parted ways, it always felt too soon, just like it did now.

“Oh my gosh.”

Stan’s voice drew Ford’s attention away from you as you left.

“What?” he asked, mildly perturbed by the wily grin on his brother’s face. Stan just chuckled and nudged him, “You’ve got it so bad, it’s almost embarrassing.” he teased, to which Ford lightly shoved him away, beginning their route back home from the pier. 

“Stanley, come on. They’re my friend just as they are yours. They’re good company.” he said, glancing off to the side, as if that could conceal the rosy pink hue on his face, but Stan remained undeterred. “Sixer, face it. You’re whipped with a capital wh-pshh!” he said, smacking one hand with his other for emphasis. 

“I am not- look, [Name] is very kind and a good friend, I appreciate that. It’s not like I lie awake at night thinking about them.”

Several hours later, it was well past nightfall and everyone in the Pines household was fast asleep, save Ford. 

Up on the top bunk, he laid on his back, hands folded over his midriff as his chest heaved slowly and his heart thrummed steadily beneath its surface. That warmth was still present, especially around his face. His conversation with Stanley had been playing on loop all evening.

Of course Ford liked you, heck, he was crazy about you. You were so nice to him and fun to be around, your enthusiasm was so endearing, and you never treated his abnormalities as though they were defects.

And you weren’t bad to look at either, of course, like earlier that afternoon on the boardwalk when the sun’s light highlighted your features. He could stare at you for hours. The way you diminished his resolve just by looking his way and smiling at him was so positively-

Oh.

Oh. 

“Oh no.”

Ford could just faintly hear a sleepy chuckle from his brother in the bunk below him. 

if this gets enough notes I’ll write a part 2

[thelosers-club]

headcanon that after hanging out with the losers for so long and connecting with them so hard, the adult losers with their memories gone are still extremely weird to be around because theyre just so used to their weirdness being normal with the people theyre around

[earako]

Second chance, chances missed

A/N: Pulling up to this fandom 12 years later but I'm having Filbrick Pines thoughts and making it everyone elses's problem

-/-

Filbrick Pines was 83 years old.

He had left Jersey back when he was 72.

For a man who claimed that Jersey was in his blood...his blood might as well be the waves crashing against the shores of glass shard beach. His belief that he'd live and die in Jersey was nothing compared to the wrath of his wife.

The sorrow of his eldest son.

The innocent, genuine confusion of his youngest as he grew up with pictures of brothers he only half remembered, one of them off to college and the other...

But he saw the paper, he saw the obituary, it was that damn paper that finally made Caryn snap and leave in the night with Shermie in the back seat.

Stanley, the younger twin, Caryn's little free spirit, Ford's betrayer, and Shermie's babysitter when Caryn was busy he was dead. The paper said he was dead, Filbrick saw the car and the burnt clothes.

The sky was blue, water was wet, and Stanley was dead. Those were the facts.

So why, in the name of all thats good and holy did he see two men who looked remarkably alike in the window of a cafe next to his wife and who he assumed was Shermie?

Why did he see Caryn reach over and cup the cheek of the man who had Filbricks square jaw, her mouth obviously calling him her 'free spirit.'

Why did the man, the one without a red beanie, have a sixth finger that Filbrick could see when he gestured with his hands while Caryn watched with fond affection.

Filbrick shook his head.

Mind must be playing tricks on him again. He should find a paper or something, check the date. If it's near the twins birthday his old, battered, brian may be mixing things up again.

A pain in Filbrick's arse, though an explanation he was far more comfortable with then the current suggestion is brain was making.

He went to leave when a hand curled around his wrist, stopping him.

Filbrick tugged his hand back prepared to snap at whatever knucklehead grabbed him and was interrupted when he heard a breathy, "Pa?"

He froze.

The air was warm, the birds were annoying, and Stanley was dead.

"Stanley? What are you-"

Caryn and the two men with her stood a few feet away from the man who still had a grasp on Filbricks wrist.

Filbrick looked at the men, then to Caryn, then back to man who had his face holding his wrist.

"You ignoramous, the papers said you were dead!"

[thelastspeecher]

Weird Little Critter - Chapter 4: Transitions, Part 1

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 AO3

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

——————————————————————————————

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

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

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

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

              “You put bugs in them!”

              “Only in Stanford’s!”

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

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

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

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

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

              Fantastic.  He leaned against the wall.

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

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

              “I see…” Ford mumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “Understood,” Ford said.

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

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

              “What was that about?” Stan asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “Good.”

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “Maybe I don’t want comfort!”

              “You want to wallow?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

              “It’s the middle of the night.”

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

              “I can’t believe he suggested it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “Are ya serious?” sighed Angie. 

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “Ford, are you all right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. 

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “Good night.”

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “Who are you?” Stan snarled.

              “I’m-”

              “What did you do with Angie?”

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

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

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

              “Talk faster, then!” Stan shouted.

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

              “But-”

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

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

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

              “Which one is this one?” Stan asked.

              “Not the one I intended to give Angie.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

              No, it’s not just him.

-----

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

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

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

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

              “Three days?!”

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

              “I’m comin’ with.”

              “Humans aren’t allowed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “Stan…” Ford said in a warning tone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “I thought it was short for Angela.”

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

              “What the hell kinda name is Banjolina?”

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

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

-----

              Banjo laughed goodnaturedly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “You don’t drink?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “Yes!  We can get wasted.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “Somethin’ wrong?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

              An eerie silence circled them. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “How much of the argument did you hear?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “Correct.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “Short for Banjo.”

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

              “Someone can have two nicknames.”

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

              “Banjo, I-”

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

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

              He’s furious. With me.

[spiritofboredom]

Stating the obvious, I know, but I really wanna say it anyway.

Bill hates Stanley because he sees himself in him. I mean, it's glaringly obvious that Ford and Bill are the same. (Smart guys with big egos, loved by their family but ostracized for their birth defects)

But like, past childhood, Stan and Bill had similar lives. All alone because of something that they didn't mean to do.

Where Stan did all that he could to get back to the family that kicked him out, Bill had nothing and nobody. With nothing to anchor him, what else could have been the outcome for him other than breaking? I mean, everything he's ever known is gone!

Bill and Stan even have the same coping mechanisms, burying away the bad things and moving on. (The secret shames and stuff...)

He can call Stan the lesser twin all he wants, but the fact is, Bill's jealous that Stan managed to get back everything he wanted even after everything that happened to him.

[pigswithwings]

The Stanley Parable.

📋 | 📋 | 📋

🗃️ | X | 🗃️

🖲️ | 🖲️ | 🖲️

[bucketfullofstrawberries]

Today I shall be explaining how Edgar (Narrator), Mae (Curator) AND Inferos (TK) came to be.

Everyone buckled in? All ready? Alright! Here we GO—

The Creation Process / History.

Many millennia ago, The Universe was simply a mish mash of chemical compounds. Molecules weren't even established to be, they just simply.. Existed! It's unknown where the existence of everything had originated from. Now, there are many theories that hold up ideas of the origins of everything. Most Famously discussed being, of course, The Big Bang, estimated to have occurred 13.8 Billion years ago.

The Universe allegedly began as a tiny, high-density fireball, which spontaneously combusted and thus expanded as space. The Universe cooled in time, and with cooler conditions The First, simple elements began to form; Hydrogen, Helium and Lithium. Hydrogen being the main factor of the three. Gradually, gravity drew matter together which supposedly formed The First Stars & Galaxies. From here, Galaxies collected into into a mixture of Groups, Clusters & Superclusters, whereas some stars started to die within Supernova Explosions; their chemical remnants begun seeding new generations of stars, bringing their legacies to be long lasting but ALSO enabling the formation of New, rocky Planets. And one of those Planets, of course, just so happened to be Earth.

Now, somewhere, in-between all the kerfuffle, situated within the plentiful explosions and deaths of Stars and such alike , Larger Stars had begun to Collapse at the end of their Life Cycles. This brought into existence the first Black Hole. Now, A Black Hole, By Google Definition; A region of spacetime where gravity is so strong & nothing, including light & other electromagnetic waves, has enough energy to escape it.

The Theory of General Relativity predicts that a sufficiently compact mass can deform spacetime to form a black hole. At the time, obviously, these were a Rare Phenomena in the passing time of Space, and so contact with them involving an involuntary object had a slim chance of creating some Huge Reaction, seeing as Black Holes quite literally "Eat", in layman's terms, anything in its path. Nothing in existence, at that time, had ever had such a Strong Energy Scale to Escape, let alone Combat the likes of a Black hole. So nothing was capable of stopping them on their Daunting Path of Destruction. That is, until the introduction of an unfamiliar, foreign object in spacetime.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

Lucidae Ignis in Aeternum, L.I.A.

[ ❝ Lucidae ❞,The term given the Brightest Star of a Constellation, Latin origins; the feminine singular of ❝ Lūcidus ❞, meaning ❝ Bright, Shining ❞ , ❝ Ignis in Aeternum. ❞, Latin origins; Meaning ❝ Fire Forever ❞, or rather ❝ Eternal Fire ❞ ]

This star-like-Giant of the Galaxian Empire was the largest existing ball of burning plasma known currently to Particular Knowledge of some, beating the Current Largest Known Star, UY Scuti, a Red Hypergiant standing at 1.188 Billion Kilometres, and somehow forming to be 156 Trillion Kilometres in size. That, in itself, is large enough to fit Five of our Solar System's within, and then some. It seems impossible, but at the same time. Existence as a whole is nothing far from what one would consider impossible. Yet here we are. Within Galaxies and Galaxies, Universes and Universes filled with who knows what.

Perhaps Stars even Bigger than LIA lie out there. Somewhere. LIA, as been theorised, has been said to of formed from Two Red Dying Hypergiants drawing close enough to one another at similar Low Levels of Combustion & existing at a Semi-Molten state to Weld Together, when Gravitational Forces between the two were strong enough to drawn one another in. This process of welding them to one another causes a sort of Infinitely Regenerative Source of Plasma Energy to power both stars and eventually merge them into one massive Hypergiant reaching lengths beyond general comprehension.

..............................................................................................................................

It just so happens that both LIA, and The Black Hole, which was later on dubbed Nexis, a relatively small black hole compared to ones that may exist today, co-exist in the same region of space, which would inevitably cause their paths to collide, one way or another. Time goes by, space goes on. And it's not long before Nexis's strengthening pull manages to catch LIA in its undefeated fury.

But, being such a large supply of energy, The Strength of Nexis must be pushed to its extremes to be able to reel in this Goliath for its own personal gain. And so, the two fought for their individual, eternal reign. Like warriors. Until both succumbed. They collapsed onto one another. And something new was born.

..............................................................................................................................

In some Stories, Folk Law & Myths carried across galaxies, it's been told through generations that these two Beasts of the Dark may have not been just... heartless monoliths, doing what they did simply because that's how things worked. Without any true, meaningful purpose other than just. To be.

As a matter of fact, It's strongly believed, by the few that tell the tales of the Universe, that these Giants had souls. Souls that had driving motives. Souls that felt for one another. And some found that tale to be as beautiful as it sounds.

And, if those tales were to be found true.. then it surely was. Tales etched into stone, written in old Greek, are the best source we currently have that depicts such a story. After thorough translation, this is what story was once told to be, and laughed at by the faces of many other highly religious figures;

❝ In the Times of Dark and Treacherous, the Lights of the Night were Dark & the Skies were Scary, Humanity was yet to be shaped out of the mud, and everything was Unorganized and Frail. Before our figures of Hierarchy came to be and ruled over our land, Two only dwelled in the Blank Canvas of The Dark. Brave Warriors. Who fought to keep Balance.

Elpída, Guardian of Distant Hope and Eternal Life, she fought for honour, to keep Light burning so the Dark would be luminous.

Maraíno, Executioner of Decay and Damnation, she fought for Power and took Life to Reign.

The Two Warriors Danced a Deadly Dance to Glorify their Ambitions in an Infinite Ballroom. It was a Fierce Battle. It was a Valiant Battle. And it kept Peace.

Their Battle could have been Eternal, everlasting, but at a point they both grew weak. Energy was forced to be used sparingly. Both that once wielded power and thrived off of it had turned that power into a channel for spite, a fuel for meaningless rage, and thus was no longer fruitful.

And once she had become frail, The Light of Elpída was dim. And the Hope she sought out to keep alive felt dismissed.

Maraíno cried out to their rival as they both came to a halt;

' The Light I once seeked from you to take has dimmed. And so it holds no value to me. So tell me, Darling Light, Why do I still seek you? '.

The Guardian answered with but another question;

' The Destruction you brought onto the existence of life has long since stopped as you have grown weaker. And you concentrate your time on my defeat. Yet, Why do I still fight you? '.

The Executioner had no answer to offer. And pondered upon this riddling response. And The Guardian spoke once more.

' Perhaps we fought for our ambitions once long ago, but I don't believe that to be the truth as we speak. ' she said, drawing closer to The Dark. Yet The Executioner did not try to defend itself. She allowed the touch of The Light to meet its faltering visage.

' Perhaps we fight now because we do not wish to be alone. I am the Light that illuminates you. Your soul encapsulates me. I have fought against it.. but now I fight to stay beside it. '. Once again, The Executioner could not reply. But it seemed as true to the two of them, whether they were to come to an agreement on the matter or not.

The battle had ended as suddenly as it had sprouted. The two held a gentle embrace around one another and uttered . And with the last of what they had, a spark in the Universe lit. And The True Empress that breathed life into our bodies had been born d from their dying light. It was born from two set souls, souls that had found their true purpose. To make life flourish. And to leave the Universe with company. With Life. With Hope. ❞

..............................................................................................................................

This tale has long since been forgotten, and remembering it at any point should be taken with a grain of salt. Believe it as simply a mystery of space, or as a story of great ambition. Either way, what remains true is that both entities collided. And with that collision birthed an unusual form of life, something that was capable of capturing, creating, controlling. It was a mighty force.

It's believed, but not confirmed, by some that the fusion of both Hypergiant's actually caused the LIA’s core to become a type of White Hole, or at the very least something similar, as it did not collapse onto itself but instead rebirthed as something entirely new, and phenomenal at that. But the interruption of Plasma from LIA’s outer surface prevented any sort of Wormhole from forming.

It, instead, forced remaining light nuclei to merge with one another simultaneously, forming dozens of heavier nuclei that released enough energy to be able to bond with early specimens of hard light collected together in a nearby nebula ; ultimately creating an infinite, solidified source of energy that had someone managed to become its own organism.

This Theory stands as The Theory of Everlasting Creation, and believes in the existence of an all-powerful, essentially living, thinking organism that holds the ability to create existing, and even non-existing, elements, substances, materials, mixtures and compounds at will, with no finite limitations on how much it may create or be capable of creating, as well as also being able to deconstruct and destroy the prior at the same time.

..............................................................................................................................

With all of this established, we may now bring our focus on this ‘hypothetical’ organism, or some may even refer to it as a Deity of sorts.

In Theory, this natural phenomena has created a God. It cannot die. And it can exist for eternity. With its purpose being to keep balance, and create. If it so chose to take that path.Thus, making it the perfect candidate for a Godly Figure. And in the future, it might just have been considered one by a select few. Early Astronomers who sought out the mysteries of space, perhaps. Who’s to say?

This being would be referred to as “The Creator” when humanity caught onto its presence, which was certainly fitting, considering the circumstances. However, long before humanity even had a name, the being itself had already come to find an alias of its own. It called itself “Mae”. Which would later be established as a word that correlates to “God/Goddess”, or “Beautiful”, in Gaelic/Celtic meanings. Or “Mother” in Portuguese; also oddly fitting. For more reasons than one. Which brings us to our next point:

What she created.

..............................................................................................................................

Now, obviously, there came a point in time where living organisms had begun their own evolutionary pipeline. This was not brought upon the universe by the likes of she. As a matter of fact, this evolutionary advancement is something that fascinated her. Despite being an overpowering organism of creation, these life forms had formed themselves all on their own. She had no involvement with it whatsoever. And that alone caught her attention. In no time, she’d become fixated on this Planet and its independent growth. Even during the early stages of life, she kept a watchful eye on every little detail.

Single-celled organisms were fruitful and multiplied into multicellular life. From here, these organisms branched off into a vast variety of Chordata, which were primarily based in bodies of water and adapted to such in terms of diet and anatomical structure. Her attachment to these organisms grew further as she saw their development now leading into much more complex territory; Tetrapoda now becoming part of the equation as four-limbed vertebrate, which had not only become amniotes as they started to roam the land, but had also began to become more adapted to both aquatic and land based worlds in order to branch of FURTHER than what was initial expected.

The introduction to land brought upon more evolutionary expansion. The planet was now given Mammalia and Primates. They were full-on land dwellers at this point, roaming the Earth freely and seeking out new places to thrive and evolve further than they already had. And from there, amidst the rest of the world’s wonders, we were given the beginning of the Human Race… and they turned out to be a species the god had become quiet.. QUITE.. infatuated with..

She admired them.. From the way they came to be to the fact that they, too, were capable of creating things if they really set their minds to it..

They were interesting little things. She felt linked to them in ways that were difficult to describe.

And through keen observation, taking note of their strengths and their flaws, and discovering what exactly brought them such differentiating characteristics and experiences, she had an idea beginning to spark.

She wanted to create something like them.

She wanted to create an ideal model.. The PERFECT humane specimen..

Something that was so similar to their kind yet so completely different at the same time. Something that had their traits but something she could teach to achieve things like she could.

..............................................................................................................................

So, with that brewing idea in mind, she began to experiment.

Surprisingly, despite Mae being perceived as something to be high and mighty and capable of pretty much anything, there were a lot of failed attempts & mistakes in the process. Obscure looking body shapes, a multitude of mish-mashed limbs, misplaced facial features that made her creations look uncanny.

But the main problem was that despite the effort she put into each individual attempt – none of them were capable of living freely. Which was the beautiful thing about humanity; they had their own desires, thoughts, ambitions and feelings. They did what they wished to do of their own accord. Nothing held them back.

And it had nothing to do with having a functioning mind. Or a beating heart. If anything, things like that were a primary human set-back. She knew this.

But the question was what exactly CRAFTED them into their own, distinct person if it wasn’t the thoughts of the mind or the life pumped into their hearts.

Eventually, though, she discovered that indescribable something simply by digging deeper. Thinking outside of the box, so to speak.

Each life on Earth appeared to have their own respective source of internal light. It was an incomprehensible thing to most, undiscovered by man and embedded deep within the heart & mind. But somehow, Mae was able to wrap her head around its existence.

A soul.

A magical thing. Founded upon clusters of stardust cumulated together in the central core of billions upon trillions spread out across universes.

Every soul was unique to its bodily host. Not a single soul was the same. Each feeling and experiencing things differently to one another.

A soul was something ever changing, that may link with another soul if bonds were grown enough to pull them together. Once a soul had linked with another, it was almost impossible to separate them. Only if the negative forces of attraction between souls grew too fierce would a soul be forced to separate.

Mae had discovered this phenomenon to be Soulmating. And it came in a multitude of different forms. Alongside hundreds and hundreds of differentiating characteristics that made up what a soul was.

These souls were intricate. And beautiful. And it was something Mae came to find precious.

And thus, she set herself the task to try and replicate such a thing. Create that unique essence of life, thriving off of its own undying light.

And eventually, with perseverance, self-encouragement and a hefty amount of elbow grease (despite very much not having elbows),

She did it. She crafted a soul. A perfect soul. A soul full of brilliance and undiscovered mystery. And a body, to keep that soul alive, to give it a face and name. To let it grow as a person. A person. Her own, darling creation. Which she looked upon with pride. And held her hopes high for to achieve the perfection she had perceived. And so, she gave it a name. Amor Aeternus. Which was a mishmash or words curated by the Romans of Earth. Two words, in Latin; Meaning

“Eternal Love”.

That was what it was called. Eternal Love. She had no reasoning as to why she named it this way. But she felt compelled to do so nonetheless.

But oh,

How fitting that name would be… ♡

However that name would one day develop into the man we know now as Edgar Vincent Marlowe... not just a Narrator, but a storyteller...~

..............................................................................................................................

Now, Highlighting THIS aspect;

Amongst all those failed attempts there was merely one out of thousands that was seemingly quite different. To say the least...

One that, miraculously, had a grown consciousness. The ability to live despite, by technicality, being categorized as the unliving. A small soul that formed on its own accord that would never of been noticed because of how fragile and simple it was. Attached to this unflattering malgamation of a body that was just BARELY keeping onto a humanoid figure.

...and yet, despite its perseverance to live; it never was noticed.

In fact, it was completely disregarded... and forgotton.

But this soul saw everything it could of had. And this soul never forgot. Never forgot how its chance at life was taken from hands of boiling flesh and instead given to another. Something more appealing. More successful. More putridly perfect.

And in itself it grew to hate. It grew to be full of jealousy. To be scornful, and full to the brim with resentment towards the being that he could of been. With a want to tear down everything that this Prince of The Stars had acquired and someday take his place. Show the universe that he WAS worthy of that status. He was special & capable enough to experience what this Brother of sorts of his had already experienced.

And so, he gave himself a name. To express his scorching, eternal flame of envious greed in bold. To overdramatize himself and show his self-proclaimed "upper status".

Stella Natum Inferos. (or "Inferos" for short.)

Meaning Star-born Hell Beast.

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is our Keeper of Time. The one who keeps the Wheel Turning and the one who could stop that Wheel at any given moment.

This is the Story of two Brothers, not bonded by blood but the eagerness & naivety of a joint Creator. One, Blissfully unaware and Blessed; Attune to the gift of Giving and a Heart of Gold, a Soul pure and true. The other, Scornfull & Painfully Aware; hateful and seething deep down only wishing for approval, and to be adored.

"The stars made you their own; you are adored and shine bright. I was cast out, sentenced to to be forgotten; denied acknowledgement and stripped of my life. You will always try to find a way to love. I dance with the tangled webs of resentment. You do not know me. I wish I did not live aside you."

And perhaps... this burning hatred held by one shall finally cut through the thin veil that keeps the two apart.

Their story is still being told, after all.....and a Story needs an Ending~

...and ending that may come sooner than possibly anticipated. You'll just have to wait and see.. ♡

☆ ⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂✦ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂☆

[stansxemoxdiary]

I want to have a horror movie marathon with someone. Both of us cuddled up under a big warm blanket with a bunch of snacks, laughing at the cheap jumpscares and pretending not to be afraid during the genuinely scary parts while we hold onto each other tighter.

Eventually we're just giggling and falling asleep in each other's arms, still trying to tiredly have a conversation despite both of us nearly about to pass out.

[booasaur]

Citadel (2023) - 1x01

[selfsidestuff]

“story” and “Stanley” sounds almost similar hmmmmm

[sleeplessdreamer14]

Stan: What kind of a maniac wakes up an hour early to write erotic fanfiction?

Ford: Me.

Y/N: Are there any shows or movies left in the world that you haven’t perved up?

Ford: No. That’s why I’ve started writing erotic friend fiction, using people at school and cryptids.

Fiddleford: Oh, do the janitor and the vice principal! I think they’d have beautiful children.

Ford: I did, and they don’t.

[abyssal-author-and-artist]

You should definitely write another billstan fanfiction! That last one was so good, and it's such a rare ship in comparison to billford.

(Only if you can though please)

I mean, I will because that was so much fun but I honestly can't think of anything I'm inspired to write right now in general, let alone for any particular ship. But I will, like seriously, got any ideas? Anything? I will do anything short of smut. Want young Stan? Disgusting old man Stan? Angst? Fluff? Whatever crack I can wrangle out of my depressed brain? Literally anything. You want them to do a heist together, they're gonna do a heist. You name it and I will write it and this goes for whenever, if you get a hair up your ass and want Bill and Stan falling in love because Stan killed someone by accident and is working on hiding the body and Bill goes "god that's hot I need to date him" then I will drop everything to do the fanfic author thing of making my search history look like that of a serial killers.

[thelastspeecher]

Weird Little Critter - Chapter 3: Reunion

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 AO3

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

——————————————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “And why the hell would I do that?”

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “Where are we?  What happened?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “Huh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “It’s a long story.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “Yes.”

              “What is it?”

              “Pines.”

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

              “He’s not-”

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “Yes.”

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

              “Hmm.”

              “I can help you deal with him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “Stan Pines.”

              “Stanford called ya Stanley.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “Voice recorder?”

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

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

              “How- you-”

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

              Ford’s blood ran cold.

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

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

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

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

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

              “You do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “Amphibian.”

              “Eh.  Potato, tomato.”

              “That’s not the-” Ford started.

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

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

              “She insisted, really,” Stan continued.

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

              “I don’t need your help.”

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

              “Angie…” Ford hissed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

        “…Angie?”

-----

              Ford’s stomach churned from inside the pet carrier.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “Name?”

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

              “Is this your first appointment with us?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “Why is that relevant?”

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

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

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

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

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

              “He?”

              “Tubbs is male.”

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

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

              “Yes, I did.”

              “Are you confident?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “Okay…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “Yes.”

              “Got it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “Dammit,” Stan muttered.

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

              “What kind?”

              “Butter pecan.  Oh!  And some sorbet.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “He started it!” Stan snapped.

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

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

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

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

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

              “You wanted him to leave the room?”

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

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

              I hit below the belt during our fight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “But-”

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

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

-----

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

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

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

              “Looking… for you…” Ford panted.

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

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

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

              “No.”

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

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

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

              “What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “Did you really worry?” Stan asked finally.

              “Of course.”

              “But you were still pissed at me.”

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

              “Does she hate her?”

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

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

              “Really?”

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

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

              Not like he did with you.

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

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

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

              “Angie told-”

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

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

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

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

              “Pops mighta kicked you out, too.”

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

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

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

              “I don’t want charity.”

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

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

              “Thanks, Stanley.”

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

              He was human.

              Stan broke off from the hug, staring at him.

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

              “What do you mean?” Ford asked.

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

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

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

[weirdoswriting]

Fictional husband list (in no order):

1. Barbatos (Om)

2. Sebastian (bb)

3. Espresso cookie (crk)

4. Loid Forger (sxf)

5. Satan (Om)

6. Tadashi/Snake (Sk8)

7. Sukana (Jjk)

8. Gojo (jjk)

9. Madeline cookie (crk)

10. Crème bruel cookie (crk)

11. Aizawa (mha)

12. Present Mic (mha)

13. Sugar coat cookie (crk)

14. Shigaraki (mha)

15. Dabi (mha)

16. Hawks (mha)

17. Mephistopheles (om)

18. Raphael (om)

19. Zayne (lad)

20. Xavier (lad)

21. Sylus (lad)

22. Leviathan (om)

23. Satan (om)

24. Asmodeus (om)

25. Beelzebub (om)

26. Belphagor (om)

27. William T. Spear (bb)

28. Simeon (om)

29. Solomon (om)

30. Diavolo (om)

31. Peach Blossom cookie (crk)

32. Mammon (om)

33. Narrator (TSP)

34. Snowman KAITO

35. KAITO

Will update in the future

Back to Masterlist

[skipbutt0n]

notesapp shenanigans, I wrote this at 1am and blacked out

————————————————————————

Sometimes Stanley would trace his hand along the abandoned desks of his former coworkers longingly.

He wasn’t ever the most outgoing or sociable man but being this alone does things to a person.

‘Oh but I’m not alone, I have The Narrator.’

He thought, to ease the gnawing feeling in his gut every time he walked across the empty hollow hallways. But he was just a voice. And Stanley was flesh, and flesh craves to be cradled.

He clasped his own hands together, looking down at them they looked like a prayer.

Lost in thought he tripped over a cup of pens splayed out next to a desk.

He didn’t get up for a minute still holding his hands together staring down, the numbers of his coworkers desk in his peripheral.

Did he even remember who the owner of the number was? Does it matter anymore? Truthfully he didn’t miss his coworkers. He missed people. He missed people talking to him face to face, being able to touch them. They were real. They were real to him.

He got up slowly not bothering to fix his shirt as he walked through the hallway.

“When Stanley came to two open doors, he entered the door on his left.”