#lute mcgucket

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              A plume of dirt hit Stan in the face.

               “Hey, that’s cheating!” Stan coughed, waving the dust away.  All he got in response was snickers from the siblings.  “You can’t just throw dirt at me!”

               “Yer the Avatar,” Angie teased.  “Dirtbending is well within yer abilities.”  Stan scowled at her.  He punched a quick burst of flame in her direction.  She dodged it easily.  “Not a lot of heart in that one.”

               “I’ve still got dirt in my eyes, sue me.”

               “Really?” Lute asked.  “I can wash ‘em out fer ya.”

               “No, that’s- it’s fine.”

               “Y’know, you could always give me a taste of my medicine,” Angie said slyly.

               “Oh.”  Stan crossed his arms.  “I see what this is.  You’re trying to get me to earthbend.”

               “Or airbend, which seems more likely, given you’ve done it once ‘fore,” Angie admitted with a shrug.

               “This is pro-bending training, not Avatar training,” Stan snarled.

               “It can be both,” Lute suggested, preparing what Stan could tell was a water whip attack.  He dodged it easily.

               “You said pro-bending.  We’re supposed to be training for pro-bending,” Stan insisted.

               “I agree with Lute, it can be both,” Angie said.

               “Fine, fuck whatever we were supposed to do,” Stan burst out.  Angie and Lute’s eyes widened.  “Nothing goes the way it’s supposed to anyways!  Not for me!”

               “Stan…” Angie said softly.  But Stan was on a roll.

               “It wasn’t supposed to be like this!”  The rock hovering in front of Angie and ribbon of water suspended by Lute both fell to the ground.  “I wasn’t supposed to have the weight of the world on my big, dumb shoulders.  I didn’t learn the- the diplomacy or have the fancy tutors.  I’m not supposed to be the Avatar.  I’m supposed to be the Avatar’s no-good brother.”  He sat heavily on the ground.  “And don’t try saying that I’ve done it before or whatever.  It doesn’t fucking help.  It’s not like I can contact any of my past lives.  Look at me, you think I’m a spiritual guy?”

              Angie and Lute exchanged a nervous look.

               “Rhetorical question,” Stan mumbled.  He put his chin in one hand.  “I just…”  He sighed.  “The firebending, I can handle.  It’s everything else that’s the problem.”  He groaned as he remembered something.  “Dammit, that’s right, I never really finished my firebending training.  Guess I don’t even have the firebending down.”

               “What do you mean?” Lute asked.

               “Lightning,” Stan said glumly.  “That’s the only part of firebending Ford could do better than me.  You need to have a cool, logical mind to do it.  I can’t do that.  My tutors would tell me I’m too hot-blooded for the cold fire.”  He looked down at the ground morosely.  “It wasn’t a problem before since you can’t use lightning in pro-bending.  But now…”

               “Yeah.” Angie sat on the ground next to Stan. “It's a lot. Especially when you didn't think it'd ever be your responsibility.” Lute sat on Stan's other side. 

               “Luckily, we're here to help!” he said brightly. Stan eyed him suspiciously. 

               “With lightning?”

               “No.  The other stuff you said you didn’t know how to do.”

               “You guys don't know this stuff either. And you're not exactly diplomats.” Stan suspected having a swampbender for a parent had impacted Angie and Lute's social skills. They were good with people, but very honest. In Stan's opinion, too honest for the sort of socializing Avatar business called for. Ford's tutors had taught him a sneakier mode of communication, which got extensive use at events where Ford had to be there as the Avatar.

               “Then we'll learn alongside ya,” Angie said. She grinned at him, smile brighter than the Spirit Lights. “Studyin' together is more fun and more effective than doin' it alone.”

               “Don't know if I agree.”

               “You had tutors,” Lute said, rolling his eyes. As the Avatar's twin, Stan was schooled privately for safety reasons. “Your school experience is atypical.”

               “The point,” Angie interjected, “is that it's a heavy burden to bear. But yer not doin' it alone. You've got folks willin' to shoulder it with ya.”  She leaned against him.  “We’ll help ya carry the weight of the world.”  Lute leaned against Stan’s other shoulder.

               “What she said,” he said softly.  Tears unexpectedly pricked the corners of Stan’s eyes.  He cleared his throat.

               “That’s- that’s good,” he croaked.

               “Yer not gettin’ all choked up on us, are ya?” Lute teased.

               “What?  No!  It’s- it’s the dust your sister threw in my face,” Stan said quickly. 

               “Excuse me, Avatar Stan?” a voice said from behind them.  Stan jumped to his feet and spun around.  The Fire Sages had finally arrived.  Stan hurriedly bent into a passable bow.  The Fire Sages bowed as well.  “We’re here for your next test.”

               “Yer Honors,” Lute said, “could ya tell us how many more tests Stan has to pass ‘fore he can move on to his airbending trainin’?”

               “Only a few more,” the Head Sage said.  “We feel the need to be thorough, given that the Avatar before him…well, you recall what happened.”  Stan winced.  Even he remembered learning about the previous Avatar’s loss of control while performing a major act of firebending.  Calling it a disaster was putting it mildly.  “But he’s been doing well so far.  We don’t foresee him failing.”

               “That’s good!” Lute said cheerfully.

               “Yes.”  The Head Sage looked at Stan.  “Go get ready for your next test.”  Stan nodded.  He looked at Lute and Angie.  They each gave him a thumbs-up.

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

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

“Are you alright, madame?”

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

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

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

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

“So, what’s wrong?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Luke, you said?”

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

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

“Oh, really?”

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

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

“And you? Where did you hide?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah. Sorry there Stanford, forgot to tell you that we were stopping here,” Lute said. He offered an apologetic smile. He lowered the wheelbarrow and walked over to Stanford. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Stanford assured. He rubbed his thigh through his overalls. “Just a small bump, nothing to worry about.”

“Well that’s good to hear,” Lute grinned. He picked up his lopping shears from inside the wheelbarrow, and rested them on his shoulder. “We’ve got a lotta work to get done and not having you get injured in the first five minutes would really help.”

“I’d assume so,” Stanford said as he picked up the ladder. “So what are we doing here?”

“You’re setting the ladder up under those darker branches over there-” Lute said pointing up to some dark branches that stuck out from the apple tree above them. “-and them I’m going to use these here Loppers to trim them off.”

“So we’re trimming the trees down?” Stanford asked, standing the step-ladder between two sturdy branches.

“In a nutshell yes,” Lute said. He walked over to the step-ladder. He gave it a shake of appraisal before nodding to himself. Carefully he handed Stanford the lopping shears before stepping onto the ladder. “Can’t climb up with my hands full,” he explained.

“Yes that makes sense,” Stanford nodded. He handed back the surprisingly heavy tool back once the other boy had reached the top of the ladder. “I hope you don’t mind my asking, but why are you cutting down those branches?”

“Simple really, they’re dead,” Lute said. He snapped the shears shut on a branch, making it fall on the ground next to Stanford. “See how it doesn’t got any leaves?” Lute asked, ignoring Stanford’s annoyed ‘watch it’.

“Yes. I see,” Stanford said. He noted the thinness and dryness of the branches. Lute quickly snipped several more branches before nodding to himself. “That should be good,” he muttered. He handed Stanford the loppers and made his way down.

“Alright, now we just put these in the wheelbarrow and then move onto the next one.” he chuckled at the way Stanford’s jaw fell slack at the sight of all the trees in the orchard. “You thought we got off easy didn’t you?” Lute teased, stepping on the nearest branch.

“Can you fault me?” Stanford pouted. “The title of ‘tree trimming’ doesn’t hint at too much.” He bent over and picked up the two nearest branches, one in each hand, and placed them in the wheelbarrow.

“It’s easier if you break ‘em down first,” Lute said. He stepped onto more branches, filling the air with snaps and crackles. “It makes them take up less space.”

“So that we can fit more inside?” Stanford asked, following Lute’s direction.

“You catch on fast,” Lute grinned. “The more in the barrow the less often we have to go back and empty it out.”

“Yeah, that’s — that’s a pretty good way to minimize how much work we have to do,” Stanford nodded. He watched as Lute picked up a particularly long branch with both his hands before snapping it over his knee. Stanford tried to copy the motion, only for him to cry out in pain and drop the intact branch.

“You alright?” Lute asked. He placed a hand on Ford’s shoulder and helped the other boy steady himself.

“Ignoring the pain in my leg I’m fine.” Stanford smirked. He shook his leg before standing up properly. “Why didn’t that work? I copied you exactly,” he said. He glared at the offending branch on the ground. He could hear it laughing at him mockingly from its place on the ground.

“Might have to do with you picking out a rather thick one,” Lute said. He picked up the stick. “Yeah this is one of the ones we’d normally leave for the axe,” He nodded before placing it in the wheelbarrow. “Well that’s all of them, let’s put these away and get a move on,” Lute said.

Stanford nodded and bent over once again, picking up a branch in each hand to put in the wheelbarrow. He noticed Lute squatting down and piling the broken branches into his other arm. Stanford mirrored the boy’s actions and the pair found themselves with a mostly cleared up grass floor in under a minute. “Sharp work there, Stanford,” Lute said. He placed the lopping shears into the barrow. “Keep this up and we should be done before lunch!”

“You think so?” Stanford asked optimistically. He took the ladder down placed it under his arm as he followed Lute’s wheelbarrow.

“Not in the slightest!” Lute smirked as he lowered his wheelbarrow. “This is one of the longer chores we have. Hope you’re ready for the long haul.”

“That was cruel,” Stanford pouted.

The pair spent an hour in the orchard before their wheelbarrow was full. Lute led the way back to a small wood heap next to the barn where he dumped the wood.

“It’s helpful to stock up for winter,” he said on their walked back.

“I have an idea,” Stanford said as he steadied the ladder for Lute.

“I’m all ears,” Lute said, snipping at the dead branches of a pear tree.

“What if you trimmed smaller parts of the branches to begin with, that way we could just put the wheelbarrow beneath you.” Stanford said, grinning to himself, feeling as though he was a genius that had just reinvented the wheel.

“Hate to burst your bubble there Stanford, but there’s a flaw in that there plan of yours,” Lute grunted. He worked the clipper on a particularly thick branch.

“Oh?”

“These clippers weigh a tonne, wavin’ them around in that plan of yours would tire me out in no time. Plus you’d have to move the barrow around to catch the falling branches as well. You'd end up with more branches falling on your head than in the barrow,” Lute said. He lowered the clippers to Stanford. “Hold these for me.”

“Yeah-um. Well I’m—I’m probably going to need to rework that plan. But it has potential,” Stanford said. He placed the clipper on the ground before holding ladder in place as Lute descended.

“Maybe,” Lute shrugged. He jumped from the last rung of the ladder onto a nearby branch.

“Perhaps if I had some sort of machine that cut through branches. One that wouldn't need human interaction,” Stanford mused. He stopped on a couple of branches while cupping his chin in his hand.

“Oh Lord you’re starting to sound like Fidds,” Lute chuckled.

“Is that bad?” Stanford asked. He watched Lute as he stomped on some more branches.

“Not necessarily. He’s pretty good with machines,” Lute said. He picked up the twigs he broke. “But his biggest problem was that he’d get lost in his own thoughts when making schemes and plans. Which can be great for when he wants to stay in the flow of his work, but not so great when he doesn’t think of the bigger picture.”

“How badly are we talking?” Stanford snapped a branch over his knee, only needing two attempts.

“I was complain’ about how my alarm was too quiet. Ma and Pa were gettin’ on my case about not getting up on time you see. So out of the goodness of his heart, Fidds offered to fix up my alarm to make it louder for me,” Lute said. He loaded the last of the branches into the wheelbarrow.

“That sounds kind,” Stanford placed the clippers on-top of the branches in the wheelbarrow.

“In theory yes. In practice he made my alarm loud enough that is shattered me and Angie’s bedroom windows,” Lute said with a fond smirk. “Hoo boy let me tell you that was a morning alright.”

“I see what you mean.” Stanford shuddered.

He and Lute had gotten ready to move to the next tree, when the clippers began to float upwards with a sparkling trail.

“That’s not normal right?” Stanford asked.

“Do your tools float on their own?” Lute’s voice was shaky as he stepped back.

“Not unless my brother was doing his invisible string trick.”

“Sorry to interrupt you,” A soft voice came from above them. The pair looked up with mixed expressions of confusion and cautious excitement. “I overheard you talking about getting your chores done faster, and I think I might be able to help you.”

The voice belonged to a short girl in a puffy yellow dress that reached passed her knees. She had brown skin and a cheeky grin that spread across her freckled face. Her black hair was skillfully tied to look like a pair of bows on top of her head. She had a pair of see-through yellow butterfly-shaped wings coming out of her back as well as a small wand in her hand.

“Who’re you?” Lute asked.

“Why, I’m Applina! The Magical Fairy of the apple tree,” She said. Her voice was chipper and sweet. She jumped off her perch on the tree and drew a circle or sparkles around herself with her wand as she descended to the ground.

“But that’s pear tree,” Stanford pointed out.

“Sh-I mean-I’m the fairy of all the trees. I just confused this tree for one of the apple ones,” Appleina said.

“Right,” Lute wasn’t convinced.

“Listen, you’re going to be spending the rest of the day cutting the branches, and I can trim down how long you’ll spend doing that,” she said. Applina crossed her arms. “My friend and I are looking for his students. Help us find them and I’ll help you trim the rest of the orchard.”

“How can you help us with that?” Lute asked.

“Seriously?” Applina pointed her thumb over her shoulder at the floating tools.

“Oh right.”

“So have we got a deal?” she asked impatiently.

“Can we have a moment? This is kind of a lot to take in,” Lute said.

“Yeah sure,” Applina waved her wand and the tools crashed back on top of one another. “But be quick about it. I need to make sure those rascals don’t hurt themselves you know?”

Lute nodded and pulled Ford aside. “Please pinch me,” he whispered. Ford obliged. “Ouch!”

“So you’re not dreaming.” Stanford beamed.

“Why are you so happy about this?” Lute’s face contorted with confusion.

“My-I mean-I found the Jersey Devil when I were younger. Spooks, magic monsters they’re all real!” Stanford said, “How can you not be excited about this?”

“Magi? -fairies? I thought those were nothing but stories my Grandpappy told me,” Lute said, dragging his hand over his face.

“Well maybe he knew more than he let on?” Stanford suggested.

“Maybe?” Lute’s face was contorted with confusion. “We’ll leave that for later. Right now we need to figure out this situation.” He motioned to Applina.

“I can still hear you, you know,” she said.

“We’ll be with you in a minute,” Lute said over his shoulder.

“I think we should hear her out,” Stanford said. “If we don’t like her offer we can say no if we’re not feeling easy about it.” He put his arm around Lute’s shoulder.

“She’s gonna have an uphill job with that one,” Lute pouted.

The pair walked over to the fairy, who had taken a seat on a tree root. During their discussion Applina had set herself up a cup of tea. Floating next to her on a table made of sparkles stood around teapot and three tea cups that looked like fine china. A fourth cup was in her hand, the tea within was a dull pink and released a soft coloured steam.

“Are you two ready to talk about my offer?” She asked. Her pinky finger pointed out as she held her tea cup.

“I-um, yes? How long did it take you to prepare that?” Lute asked.

“This?” Applina pointed to her tea set. “No time at all, I have magic after all.”

“Right.” Lute said.

He and Ford walked over to Applina, easily towering over her while she nonchalantly sipped her tea.

“I’m hoping you two have come to a decision,” Applina put down her tea cup. “I certainly do not have all day.”

“We want to hear more about your deal.” Is what Ford wanted to say, if it were not for the fact he was now face-down in the dirt.

“Toufi are you alright?” a distressed voice asked. Stanford heard the patter of feet stop not too far from him.

“Winks what have you done?” Applina asked. Her cheerful demeanor from before melted like a lump of sugar in warm tea.

“They were going to attack you!” Winks said. Ford looked up and saw a man no taller than Applina. He wore grey shoes and brown tights. Under his tan green vest was a dark green tunic. On his head was a brown pointed hat.

“They were going to help us you lost lamb.” Applina said. She waved her arms as she spoke.

“And how are you so sure?” Winks crossed his arms, his hat pointed skywards. “You don’t know what they’re thinking.” “I’m pretty sure they were thinking. ‘Oh thank goodness this nice fairy was going to help us with our chores.’” Applina stomped her foot.

“Ugh my head.” Lute rubbed his forehead.

“Quick we need to get out of here.” Winks grabbed Applina’s wrist, his hat deflating ever so slightly.

Lute tried to pick himself up. However, when he tried to push himself up on to his feet. He found himself swinging them up over his head. Standing firmly on his hands as though he were a circus performer.

“Why are the trees so tall? Applina did you do this?” Lute asked. He reached to dust the dirt from his hair before almost falling over. “Why am I upside down?”

“Toufi come on.” Winks urged.

“Toufi? I thought your name was Applina.” Ford said.

“We need to get out of here.” Winks tugged at Applina’s arm.

“Okay I’ve had enough.” Applina, or Toufi, pulled her wrist out of Wink’s grip. She flapped her butterfly-like wings and flew above the trio. With a wave of her wand Winks floated in the air next to her with the same spell she had used to make Lute and Ford’s tools float earlier.

“Mr. Farm boys, I haven’t been perfectly honest with you.” Applina said.

“We gathered,” Lute said curtly.

“Allow me to explain myself.” She floated down so that she was standing between Ford and Lute. “My name is really Toufi, and I’m just a regular fairy, not a fairy of Apple trees.”

“Right.”

“But I wasn't completely dishonest.” Toufi said. “We truly do need your help. Winks you see, he lost his students. We searched all over the woods and we couldn’t find nary a hair of them anywhere. We came to your farm to look for them, and we still have no clue of where they could be. So please, kind sirs, would you help us? We’d be more than willing to help you with your chore in exchange.” “Now hold on there.” Lute raised his hand, but lowered it again to stop himself from losing balance. “You lied to us about your name, but didn’t lie about what you needed? Why? And why am I stuck like this?”

“I think I’m upside down too.” Ford said. He tried pushing himself up, to similar results as Lute.

“Well that’s just dandy.” Lute spat.

“Now, now don’t worry Sir, the spell Winks placed upon you can be easily undone.” Toufi said. She waved her wand. A ball of sparkles shot from the star at the end of her wand, and splattered against Lute and Ford.

“You should be fine now.” She smiled.

“Yeah...totally.” Winks tugged at the collar of his shirt.

Ford and Lute swung their legs around, trying to stand upright. And while the image itself would have made Toufi roll with laughter. At this very moment she was far from entertained. The same could not be said for Winks, who laughed freely.

“This isn’t funny Winks.” Toufi stomped her foot.

“Oh come now Toufi, it’s hilarious. They look like little beetles trying to right themselves.” Winks wiped away a tear.

“You want to say that down here Mr. Smart mouth?” Lute asked. He’d have shook his fist had it not risked him falling onto his face.

“That’s not in my power.” Winks said smugly, before falling face first into the dirt.

“Stop wasting time and undo the spell.” Toufi hid her grin behind her hand.

“Why? So that they can attack us?” Winks picked himself up.

“Not to play devil’s advocate here,” Stanford spoke up. “But you’re not really giving us a fair chance here.”

“And what do you mean by that?” Winks squinted.

“When Toufi said that she wanted to make an offer, Lute and I walked over with the intent of learning more.” Stanford said. “But you couldn't have known that from wherever you were. In fact, if I were to guess, the reason your students are missing it’s because you’re so set in your views on people that you refuse to listen to them when they talk to you.”

Wink’s jaw was slack. Toufi fell onto the grass with laughter. Winks opened his mouth only to close it again, outrage coloured his face as he struggled to put his feelings into words. Lute chuckled with Toufi while Ford wore a small satisfied smile as they watched Winks  pace to and fro. Stopping on occasion to open his mouth, only to stop himself and go back to pacing.

“My goodness!” Toufi said clutching her sides. “That was marvelous.”

“Stanford how did you figure all that?” Lute asked.

“Let’s say that Winks reminded me of someone.” Stanford grinned sheepishly.

“Well in any case you hit that nail on the head.” Toufi grinned. “Now if only someone would learn his lesson.” Toufi added unsubtly.

“Why are you siding with them?” Winks cried. He threw his arms over his head.

“Because if you listened to Mr. Sahir we wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.” Toufi said. “I could be at home working on fixing my good dress, but no, someone decided that he didn’t want to listen to whatever his students had to say.”

“It’s not my- fine you’re right.” Winks slumped forward with a heavy sigh.

“Wait what’s going on?” Lute asked.

“Well you see, er Lute? Was that right?” Lute nodded, “You see Lute, we’ve been searching for a few days now and I don’t want to waste any more time arguing.”

“And you don’t want your mentor Mr. Sahir coming back to finding you not having learnt your lesson.” Toufi said under her breath.

“Would you like to pour some lemon juice into my wound while you’re adding that salt?” Winks asked.

“No thanks, I’ll save the lemon juice for when you really deserve it.” Toufi smiled.

“Well thank you.” Winks rolled his eyes.

“And given your track record that should be within the next five minutes.” She added slyly. Stanford and Lute failed at hiding their chuckles.

“Do you want me to undo the spell or not?” Winks asked. He waved his arms wildly.

“Well if you want us to consider helping you I’d highly recommend it.” Lute said. “Unless you want me to go hunting for you when this spell wears off.”

“Hey now, let’s not get too hasty,” Winks said. “I was just joking with Toufi, I’ll undo the spell right now.”

Winks muttered under his breath before giving his wand a small flourish. An orb of light launched out of its tip and landed on Lute’s nose. It then flew up to his boots and then back down to his hands. Finally it went through Lute’s back before disappearing in a puff of sparkles.

“You should be good now.” Winks said nervously.

Lute gave a small “oof” as he fell back onto the ground. He carefully stood up, grinning as he found purchase on his feet and not his hands.

“Hoo wee! I’ve never been happier to be able to walk on my own two feet.” Lute said merrily.

“So no hunting for me later?” Winks asked tentatively.

“I think you’re forgetting about someone.” Stanford piped up.

“Fix up my good friend Stanford over here and I won’t add your wand to our firewood stack.” Lute said.

“Sure thing.” Winks said nervously.

He repeated the flourish and muttering he had done before. However there was no orb of light. Giving his wand a small smack, the way one would give to a malfunctioning electronic device, Winks tried again. A small stream of sparkles poured out of his wand tip before it fizzled to a stop.

“Oh no.” Wink said.

“Oh no?” Stanford and Lute repeated.

“I told you to make sure it was full before we left.” Toufi said, placing her face in her hands.

“You might have to wait a bit before I can help you Stanford.” Winks said sheepishly.

“What do you mean. ‘A little bit?’” Lute asked.

“My wand’s run out of magic.” Winks said. “I could have sworn it was full of magic when we left the woods.”

“So what now?” Lute asked. “We can’t leave Stanford stuck upside down.”

“I told you not to worry, at most he’d be stuck like this until tomorrow morning.” Winks said.

“I wouldn't mind staying upside down,” Stanford said. Not that anyone noticed.

“That’s not any better” Lute said. “How is he supposed to eat?”

“As it turns out, you’re able swallow while upside down, your esophagus pushes your food down, or in my case up, towards your stomach.” Stanford said, his words still not noticed by no one.

“We could give him a small enhancement using Toufi’s wand.” Winks said. “Right Toufi?”

“Why can’t you just go back to your forest and refill your wand with magic?” Lute asked.

“We-” Winks caught sight of Toufi and corrected himself. “I can’t go back without my students. I’d be in a world of trouble.”

“Well that’s just your own fault isn’t it?” Lute glared.

“Please, I’m sorry, things have been piling up for me and I haven’t been able to do anything right for days now.” Winks stammered. “That’s no excuse.” Lute stamped his foot. “Because of you, me and Stanford could have lost out on an entire day of chores. How am I supposed to explain to my Ma and Pa that some pixie showed up while we were working in the orchard and flipped Stanford over? Either you find a way to fix this up or you’re gonna be finding yourself with a whole new world of trouble.” “I-er.” Winks cowered away from Lute who was now towering over him. His fist dangerously close to the pixie’s face.

“There is another way to solve this you know,” Toufi said. Her comment was more to Winks than to Lute.

“What do you-no. Please don’t say it.” Winks begged. His hat deflated completely.

“You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place Winks. So you’re either going to swallow your pride and talk to Eirafa or face whatever Lute has in store.” Toufi put her hands on her hips.

“What are you talking about?” Lute snapped.

“While Winks over here won’t be able to help Stanford, we do know someone who would be able to. And she would be able to solve our missing student problem.” Toufi said.

“So why didn’t you go to her first?” Lute asked.

“You think I didn’t suggest that?” Toufi said. “But Mr. ‘I’d rather die before letting go of a grudge’ doesn’t want to even consider the option.”

“Could we have a bit of context?” Stanford asked.

“I’ll give you the cliff notes.” Toufi pinched the bridge of her nose. “There’s a witch that lives about 8 miles west of here. Her name is Eirafa and she should have a spell that would help us find our students in 20 minutes. But she stiffed Winks on a payment when he worked for her one time and has been holding a grudge ever since.” “I worked a week for her and she only paid me the work of a single day!” Winks cried. He stomped his foot angrily.

“And would she be able to fix Stanford up?” Lute asked.

“Most likely.” Toufi said.

“That’s not very convincing.” Lute muttered.

“She has a spell for almost any situation.” Toufi said. “And unless you want Stanford to wait until tomorrow she’s your best option too.” “Oh, I wonder if the spell replaced my arm strength with my legs strength” Stanford muttered. “That would make travelling easier.” “I guess we have no choice.” Lute sighed. “We’ll go see your Witch.” “Wait I didn’t agree to this.” Winks said. “You don’t get to agree to this.” Lute said pointedly. “It’s called responsibility.”

“I can fix this.” Winks said. Stubbornly. “I just need time.”

“By the sounds of things, time is the last thing you have.” Lute shot back.

“Why don’t we put it to a vote?” Stanford said. “All in favor of taking part in a magical journey to the witch's hut-”

“Actually she lives in a cottage” Toufi corrected.

“-Witches cottage say ‘Aye’” Stanford said.

“Aye,” Lute, Toufi and Stanford said in unison.

“All opposed?”

“I really don’t have a choice in this do I?” Winks sulked.

“Off to the witch we go!” Stanford cheered. He kicked his legs enthusiastically, almost clocking Lute in the face. “Whoops, sorry.”

--

A/N: i’d like to thank the amazing @artylovr for their amazing work on the drawings featured in this chapter.

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Toufi and Winks are characters I based off of Enid Blyton’s work with her frequent use of Fairy folk. I have plans for these two to make multiple appearance in the future. 

              The drive to the high school happened in silence.

               “All right, you two, no fucking around, got it?” Shermie said as he parked outside the Gravity Falls High School. “Ma wants to stay put in this town, so that means you can't be shitheads right away. You've gotta wait until people actually like our family.” Stan and Ford flipped him off. “That's right, get it all out before we go in.”

              The three brothers got out of the car and headed for the front doors of the school. A large banner over the doors proudly declared that today was School Registration Day. They followed signs in the hallways to a large gymnasium. Chattering voices filled the gym with a cacophony that Stan quickly tuned out. He looked around, trying to scope out the other teens in town.

               “Stan, Ford,” Shermie said. The twins looked over. Shermie had gone up to the registration table to talk to the woman there, and was coming back to them. “I've gotta call Ma to help fill out some of the paperwork they gave me. You guys mingle, okay? Maybe try to make some friends.”

               “We're not five,” Stan muttered. Shermie whacked him across the back of his head.

               “Remember what I said. At least pretend you've got manners.” Stan stuck his tongue out at him. Shermie rolled his eyes and walked away. Stan shoved his hands into his pants pockets.

               “So, uh, who do you wanna talk to?” he asked Ford. Ford sighed.

               “I don't care.”

               “See the guy you met at the mall?”

               “No. It's possible that he's already registered.” Ford seemed unwilling to even take a step, so Stan decided to take charge. He looked around. A booming voice suddenly echoed over the background noise. Stan zeroed in on the source: a brawny, redheaded teen.

               “Let's go talk to him,” Stan said. He grabbed Ford's arm and pulled him along to talk to the redhead.

              The redhead was named Dan Corduroy, and apparently he came from a lumberjack family.

               “LOTS of us lumber folk around HERE!” Dan said jovially to Stan and Ford. He didn't seem to have an inside voice. Stan could relate. “You guys should meet my FRIEND, Susie! She can get you FREE refills at the DINER!”

              Susie was Susan Wentworth, a chubby brunette wearing earrings and a necklace shaped like cats. The moment she saw Stan and Ford, she fluttered her eyelashes flirtatiously at them. Stan didn't mind; he thought she was cute. But he could feel Ford cringe next to him.

               “Hey, I get she's not your type, but maybe don't visibly recoil,” Stan hissed in his twin's ear as Susie walked away. Ford scowled at him. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, got distracted by something past Stan.

               “Fiddleford!” he called excitedly, waving. Stan looked over. Three teens had walked into the gym. Two were blond, one was a brunet. One was tall, two were short. But all three had the same long nose. The tall one, with sandy blond hair, looked in their direction. He said something to the other two, then dragged them over to Stan and Ford.

               “Stanford, I was wonderin' if I'd see ya here!” chirped the tall one.

               “Well, we need to register for school just like you do,” Ford said. Stan eyed him. Ford was rarely this happy talking to people that weren't him. “Are these the younger siblings you told me about?”

               “Yep! The twins.” The boy looked at his brown-haired brother and blonde sister. “What are ya goin' by now?”

               “Rett,” said the boy.

               “Quinn,” said the girl.

               “And I'm Fiddleford.” Fiddleford winked at Stan. “Figured I'd introduce myself to ya, feller.” Fiddleford's strong southern accent and upbeat manner were quickly grating Stan, but he slapped on a no-teeth-showing smile.

               “This is my twin, Stan,” Ford said. Stan frowned.

               “Rett and Quinn?” he said to the twins. They nodded. He looked at Fiddleford. “And your name is...” Fiddleford chuckled.

               “It prob'ly seems odd to have such dif’rent styles of names. But their given names are just as strange as mine.” Fiddleford crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at his siblings. “They just decided to go by their middle names after we moved.”

               “No one says 'em right,” Rett snapped. “I got sick of bein' called Luke.” Quinn nodded. Fiddleford rolled his eyes.

               “There ain't exactly a perfect record of folks gettin' my name right.”

               “Then you can go by Ford,” Quinn said. Ford coughed.

               “That's what I go by,” he mumbled. Quinn shrugged.

               “There can be two people with the same nickname,” she said. Fiddleford ruffled his much shorter siblings' hair, making them squawk in protest.

               “I'll get the paperwork 'n whatnot. Why don't you two chat up these nice fellers? Yer all twins, that's somethin' ya have in common!” He strolled away, whistling. Rett and Quinn watched him, looking disgruntled.

               “So, uh, where are you from?” Ford asked awkwardly. Rett and Quinn looked at him.

               “You can tell we ain't from 'round here?” Rett drawled.

               “Wow, what gave it away?” Quinn said, stretching her own accent to be as thick as syrup. Stan let out a soft snicker, earning a grin from the brother and sister.

               “We're from Arkansas,” Rett said. So far, he seemed to be the more social of the two. “A small town called Gumption. We moved here early June.”

               “You've already been here a few months, then,” Ford said. Rett nodded. “We just arrived.”

               “Fidds mentioned ya yesterday,” Quinn piped up. “He said ya moved all sudden-like?”

               “We needed a fresh start,” Stan said. He kept his tone firm, hoping to quash the topic before they got any further. Rett and Quinn sighed.

               “Our fam'ly needed one, too,” Rett said softly. He rubbed the back of his neck. “A twister tore down just about the whole farm at the beginning of May. Without the income, we couldn't afford to rebuild or even pay bills on what little was left. Pa sold the property to some fam'ly friends and used the money to get a house here.”

               “Why Gravity Falls?” Ford asked curiously.

               “Ma found a teachin' job. A distant relative reached out when they heard we lost the farm. And Pa, well, he's goin' to try bein' a stay-at-home parent.” Rett cocked his head. “What about you two? What brought ya to this place specifically?”

               “Uh.” Ford looked at Stan for help. Stan knew why his twin was hesitating. The truth, that they just drove until they found a decent place, would bring up questions they didn't want to answer.

               “It's pretty far from Jersey,” Stan said. “You wanna put some distance for a fresh start.” He startled as a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

               “Glad to see you two making friends,” Shermie said, “but we’ve gotta get going. I got you both signed up, so we've gotta go back to help Ma out.” He patted Stan and Ford on the head. “Say goodbye. I'll be waiting at the car.” He walked away.

               “We'll tell Fidds ya said goodbye,” Rett said. “It was nice talkin' with ya. I reckon we'll see ya in school.”

               “Yes. Unless we happen to cross paths before then,” Ford said. There was an awkward pause, then both Rett and Ford walked away. Stan turned to go, but was stopped by Quinn's voice.

               “Ya don't need to worry 'bout missin' that tooth. I seen plenty of people get by with less,” she said softly. Stan tensed.

              How the hell did she see?

               “You're imagining things,” he snapped. “I'm not a toothless fucking hayseed.” He stormed after Ford. Ford frowned at him when he caught up.

               “What's with the sour mood?”

               “I don't wanna talk about it,” Stan ground out. Ford sighed.

               “Did you say something you'll regret tomorrow?” he asked pointedly. They exited the building. When they got to the car, Stan irritably flung open the passenger side door.

              "You're really gonna talk to your own mother like that?" Mariam asked. Stan glared.

              "Do you have any clue what you did to Lute when you went in his head?"

              "It's harmless," Mariam dismissed.

              "No, it's not! You just pretend it is because you only do it to people you think deserve it!" Stan's hands were beginning to smoke. The event at the bank had proven he had better control than he used to, and even knew some worthwhile tricks. But he still couldn't help it sneaking out when he got riled up.

              Angie noticed. 

              "Stan," she murmured. Stan took a deep breath. The smoke went away. 

              "You're not gonna leave, are you?" he snapped at Mariam. She shook her head. "Fine. Then...come inside. That way the neighbors don't call the cops."

              Mariam shot Angie a smug look as she walked past the villainess and into the house. 

              "Cute," she commented. She wasn't lying. It was tastefully decorated, like the exterior. Much like the outside of the house, the inside seemed designed to dispel any suspicion about its inhabitants. Though there were too many framed photos on the wall in her opinion. It crowded the space. 

              Mariam walked out of the entryway and down a hallway, casting an eye over the photos, hoping to glean some information from them. Unfortunately, without context, she couldn't learn much. As she walked, she heard the sound of a TV, which gradually got louder until she arrived in a living room. 

              Laying on a pale brown couch, watching the TV, was Lute. He...didn't look well. In fact, he actively looked sick. His skin was pale, there were bags under his eyes, and his forehead glistened with a faint sheen of sweat. He caught sight of her and visibly flinched.

              "L- Libra," he croaked. Stan put a hand on Lute's shoulder. 

              "I'll make sure she behaves, don't worry," he said quietly. Angie, who had brought up the rear, went to her brother. 

              "Do you need some more water?" she asked. Lute nodded. Angie grabbed the massive pitcher resting on the couch side table and walked away. When she returned, the pitcher full, Stan had gotten Mariam to sit in a recliner that was probably his favorite spot. Stan was standing at her side like a guard. But one watching a prisoner, rather than watching someone worth protecting. Angie opted to sit on the ground by the couch, flicking her hands every few seconds to bring a cooling breeze to her ill brother. 

              Lute, for his part, just stared at Mariam in terror. Mariam felt, for the first time, a twinge of guilt over possessing someone. She had never seen someone after they gained consciousness post-possession. She'd had suspicions that there was probably a lingering headache or something, but nothing this severe. 

              "Is he...all right?" she asked hesitantly. Angie fixed her with eyes she recognized. The same eyes her mother, the first Sirocco, had. 

              "No. He's sick. Because of what you did." She sent another breeze to her brother.

              "I could..."

              "We don't need yer help," Angie snarled, and in that moment, sounded just like her mother, refusing Mariam's attempts to redeem her. "Pa sent herbs to help him get better faster. He'll be fine 'fore ya know it." Mariam thought back to the information she'd gotten from Fiddleford. 

              "Ah. Your father is Hemlock, right?" she said. Angie's eyes widened. "Yes, I suppose he would know medicinal plants."

              "How-" Angie started. 

              "Fidds said she got in his mind, remember?" Stan interjected. Mariam frowned slightly at the nickname, further proof of how close her son was with these villains. "Long enough to get names, faces, and powers." He glared at his mother. "I'm guessing addresses, too?"

              "No. I've still got some contacts that can get me addresses," Mariam said with a shrug. "If you're wondering how I found you here."

              "Yeah, you've got contacts, but you only bothered to use them to find me after you decided to ruin my life and make my friend sick!"

              "I can still take her on," Lute said weakly. The pitcher was already half empty. Mariam distantly remembered hearing that hydros had to drink a lot of water. And Stan, who was a pyro, craved the warmth. She wondered what the implication was for an aero like Angie or her mother.

              "Lute," Angie sighed. The interaction reminded Mariam eerily of when Stan and Ford were younger, how Ford would often serve as a moderating force for his twin. 

              Clearly, Stan needed that influence. If he and Ford had stayed together, he probably wouldn't have turned to villainy.

              "There's no need for that," Mariam said primly. "I'm just here to talk."

              "About?" Angie asked. She seemed to have assigned herself the spokesperson for the trio. Which lined up with how she took charge at the bank. 

              "I want to know why my baby boy decided to become a villain." Lute let out a soft snort at the phrase "baby boy". "I raised him better. In fact..." Mariam made eye contact with Stan. "You dreamed of becoming a hero like me."

              "That was before you, the great hero," Stan spat, "abandoned me!" 

              "I tried to find you-"

              "Bull! You found me just fine right now! You could've found me before!" Stan's hair lit on fire. A gust of wind quickly put it out. 

              "Please be more careful. Our fire hydrant is out of service right now," Angie said dryly. Stan closed his eyes and took a few breaths. 

              "The M- Angie and Lute's family, they saw my potential. I…didn’t make a good first impression.  But they offered to let me join them. Even after what I did."

              "In yer defense, some of what ya did was effectively an audition," Angie said. Stan shrugged dismissively.

              "Doesn't matter. The point is that your family, they took me under their wing." Stan glared at Mariam. "You didn't do shit. You left Pa after I got kicked out!"

              "How did you-" Mariam started. 

              "Ford told me. You couldn't have left that bastard before? You knew what he did!"

              "I..." Mariam looked down at her lap. She purposely did not look at her archenemy's children, who were paying very close attention to the conversation. "I shouldn't have been spending so much time out as a hero. If I'd spent more time at home..."

              "Excuses, excuses," Stan scoffed. He let out a long breath. "All right, you've said your piece. You can leave."

              "Not until I get you back on the right path."

              "Don’t you get it yet? You're the one that put me on this one! If you and Pa and Ford hadn't been- hadn't been- I would've wound up the hero you wanted me to be! But I'm not. So just accept it." Stan narrowed his eyes. "We're done."

              "Stanley, I-"

              "Save it."

              "I'm sorry," Mariam blurted out. Stan's crossed arms dropped to his sides in shock. "I wasn't the mother you needed. The one you deserved. Just- let me be that for you now."

              "I..." Stan swallowed. He looked at his friends. They seemed astounded as well. No doubt they grew up with a negative opinion of her, an opinion not helped by whatever Stan told them. After a long silence with Stan clearly struggling to find a response, he finally sighed. "You're too late."

              A new silence fell, but not for long, as it was quickly broken by a coughing fit from Lute. Angie jumped to her feet to fuss over her brother. Stan pulled Mariam out of the chair. 

              "It's time for you to go."

              "...Fine." Mariam allowed Stan to escort her out, but paused on the doorstep. Stan went to close the door. He let out a soft swear.

              "Ma, stop using your telekinesis on the damn door." 

              "One last thing."

              "What?!" Stan growled, but there wasn't as much bite in his voice as there had been before her apology. She turned around. 

              "I want to see you. To know you're doing well." She looked Stan up and down. He was well-fed and clearly getting plenty of exercise. Likely from committing crimes, but at least he was healthy. 

              "I don't want you coming back to my house. Angie and Lute, they don't like it." Stan looked away. "I don't really like it, either."

              "A neutral location, then," Mariam suggested. "Maybe Ford's?"

              "His roommate hates your guts."

              "I'll figure it out," Mariam said confidently. Stan finally looked back at her. 

              "I'll think about it," he said. That was better than Mariam was hoping for. She nodded, smiling. "...Bye." Without a hug or similar farewell gesture, he closed the door. A gust of wind pushed Mariam off the property, a second one locking the gate behind her. Mariam turned. Angie was watching from an open window. With a firm glare, she slammed the window shut. 

              Mariam casually dusted off the dirt picked up by the wind that moved her. She set off to find where she'd parked her car.