Had a dream that you wrote a fic for the au where everyone is cats and then Stan gets cursed into a human. It read like a completely normal fic about Stan going to the store. But then he got there and the store was cat-sized. He was crouched down tosqueeze through the little door. Picking up tiny cereal boxes in his big hands and squinting to read the labels. Stuffing it all in his pockets and then carefully shuffling out without paying. Very bizaare but it made me laugh very hard
Time to make your dream a reality :)
Stan squinted at the meager selection of breakfast foods in the fridge. It was barely a mouthful, a few eggs, a half empty bag of shredded cheese, and a carton full of so little milk, it was more of an insult than a portion. A quick look through the cupboards showed similar bare shelves, dust, and a baking pan that had gone missing last month.
Someone needed to go grocery shopping, and unfortunately that person was going to be him.
With grumble and a sigh, Stan made his way out of the house. He stretched his back out and took a deep breath once he was out the front door, taking in the bright sun and birds calling in the trees. It was shaping up to be a pretty good day, so long as the weather didn't turn unexpectedly or something outrageous happened.
Taking another deep breath, Stan hit the road and started making his way towards town. No one else in the house would be up for another hour, plenty of time to get there and back before breakfast.
The wind blew gently through the tree's, ruffling his hair and cooling off whatever sweat might have made it way to his brow. Creatures both big and small rummaged through the underbrush, but nothing jumped out at him, and his walk to town was uninterrupted by anything that called the forest of Gravity Falls home.
Only a few others were walking the streets once he made it town, and they gave him a wide berth, side eyeing him as they usually did. He didn't mind, having long grown used to the townsfolk and their skittish, distrustful nature. No one had the nerve to tell him to shove off, and until they did, or tried to physically stop him from running errands, Stan would continue to come and go as he pleased.
The parking lot was similarly scarcely populated, and Stan made it to the front doors without issue. This is where he stopped though, frowning at the doors and eyeing the roof.
It would be so easy to reach down and pop the whole thing off. The top of the store just reached his chest, it was a better alternative then what he usually did, and be better for his aching back.
But if he did reach down and peel the top of the building off, then the town might actually form an angry mob and try to drive him further out of town than he already was.
So with a sigh, and one last back stretch, Stan bent down and squeezed through the double doors. He gave the sign that had his badly drawn face and an X a glance, knocking it to the ground before continuing on to crawl down the aisles.
One of the baggers hissed at him, black fur standing on end and pupils the barest of slits, but a raised eyebrow was enough to get her ducking below the check out, and the rest of the staff hunkered down where they were. There were only a handful of cats awake working and shopping, and Stan bemusedly gave their glinting, wide eyes a sweep.
No one else hissed or spoke up, leaving him to go about his shopping in peace.
Slowly (because he couldn't move very crouched down like this, and crawling killed his knees) Stan went up and down each aisle. The tiny cans were puny in his giant hands, and the boxes weren't much better. Most of what he wanted he knew on sight by their bright labels, but every once in a while he had to stop and squint at labels to make sure he wasn't getting secret raisins in cereal or buying 'Healthy' alternatives that tasted like crap and were worth twice as much.
Each tiny letter dug a tiny spike behind his eyes, and he cursed his clumsy fingers every time he pressed something too hard and it exploded in his hands. The boxes and cans he shoved in his pockets, joined by anything else packaged in a way that would keep it safe for the journey home. When he was done with that, he crept towards the produce section, then pulled out his grocery blanket and filled it with anything that looked good.
It was hard to tell at this size. Any bruises could be funky shadows, and trying to pressure test anything made things explode more often than not.
Once his blanket was full he tied it up and held the knot with his fingers, then shuffled over to the cold goods. The glass doors were hard to open, but he hadn't broken any (here) so far, and he was determined to keep the streak going. The milk fit snugly into his palm, and he carefully stacked the rest of the freezer goods around it, then grabbed a few bags of ice around those. Once he was satisfied with his precarious heap, he slowly made his way back to the entrance, snagging a few more cans and boxes to shove in his pockets as he went.
During his entire trip through the store, Stan had been able to hear other shoppers dashing around the other shelves, just out of view. Now they were all rushing to make their purchases at the front, and Stan chuckled at the tiny hoard of cats that froze when the saw him approach. No one was willing to lose their spot or groceries by running away, but he could see that they wanted to.
Most just crouched and raised their hackles, fur puffed up as their mouths stretched back into snarls.
"Yeah yeah," Stan said, rolling his eyes as he neared the front doors, "I'm going I'm going."
What did it say mommy? A small kitten meowed as she pulled at her mothers skirt. The mother, a gray shorthair wearing a yellow blouse and black skirt, shushed her, her ears pinning back when she made eye contact with Stan.
"You guys act like I'm not here every other week," Stan called back, as he twisted through the doors so he wouldn't crush anything, "If you don't want me swinging by, yell at Ford about it, not me!"
No one responded, and he finally stood to his full monster height outside, back and knees aching. A fluffy orange tom walked briskly past him, ear twitch the only reaction from having to breeze past Stan.
"Probably should be worried about how easy you guys accepted me coming in and of here," Stan grumbled, making his way back towards Fords house, "Not sure what it says about if any other giant monsters wander in here, but it works for me!"
groceries in hand, supported with his now free other hand, Stan walked back through the town. The streets were still clear, and thankfully the buildings were spaced far enough apart he didn't bump into them. It took less than ten steps to walk down the entirety of main street, and then he was back in the woods. The path to Fords house passed by just as fast, and soon enough he was back home, carefully shoving his tiny goods into Fords tiny kitchen.
His brother wandered in just as he put away the last of it, yawning and clutching his tail as he blearly blinked at Stan.
Oh, Nikola, he meowed padding over to flop into Stan's lap and bursting into a deep purr when Stan obligingly started scratching him behind the ears and under his chin, were you hungry? How long have you been up?
With that Ford pushed away and opened the fridge, eying the contents with surprise.
Fiddleford must have gone out yesterday, Ford meowed, grabbing the milk and closing the fridge, then going over to nab an apple and the growing light from the counter, I'll have to remember to thank him.
"You won't," Stan told his brother, sitting criss-cross in the corner of the room while Ford grew him a bowl of cereal, "Just like he won't remember to thank Carla, and she won't think to thank anyone. The fact that none of you have gone shopping since I moved in is almost funny. Funnier if I wasn't sure you weren't eating at all before I got here."
Ford didn't answer, just set the bowl on the floor, grew it to Stan size, and went about making his own breakfast.
Just like he did every morning.
