Hi, love your stories and had an idea to share!
A story where someone in the Mystery Trio (maybe Fidds, idk) regresses at a very inconvenient time? And they try to hide it or push it off or pretend it's fine while they are very much panicking because they don't even know what triggered it. When the other two pick up on it, the Little cries about how they didn't mean to and the others comfort them?
Anyway, no hurry to do anything with this! Take your time if you choose to write it. I know you're probably a bit busy.
I'm so sorry this one took so long @sunflowerdrabbles ! Writer's block hit me and hit me hard! I would come and just stare at my computer, getting a sentence or two done. TBH, I'm not the happiest with what I wrote, too. I'm deeply sorry if the vision you had in mind wasn't captured! Hopefully now that I've had a little break from school and the weather is warming up, this awful writer's block can go away, I have so many draft I WANT to work on. To those who are still here, thank you for sticking around, I really appreciate it! Thank you from the bottom of my heart for requesting this, I did love it and love working on it, even though it took me so long. I hope you all enjoy reading it!
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
"Ya' sure you're okay to go, bubs?" Bubba-Stanely asked, concerned about Fiddleford's headspace. Which was completely misplaced concern because he's fine, he's Big and can go play-go on a research hike with Stan and Ford. Because he's an adult with an adult mind and is perfectly capable of traversing through the woods looking for fae and goblins.
"It's perfectly fine if you don't feel up to it-urk!" Stan elbowed Ford, glaring slightly at him for his words. "I'm-I meant if you're feeling close to dropping. We wouldn't want anything to happen to you out in the field. We can do this another day-" Fiddleford isn't going to let his friend finish.
"I said I'm fine. I'm not little, I ain't even close to it! I'm feeling perfectly fine. Now. Can we go?" Fiddleford gestures towards the open door, his pack ready and on his back. He doesn't need to be handled with kiddie gloves, he's a grown man. He was looking forward to this trip, too. Apparently there's some sort of metal deposit in the area that'd be fantastic for his latest robotics project, and Fiddleford just can't wait to get his hands on it. Well, more accurately, he's been waiting months and can't wait any longer. That's the only reason he's so ready to go, not the thoughts in his head screaming at him to act his age.
With out a backwards glance, Fiddleford practically stomps out of the Shack, eager to prove how capable he is in that moment, not feeling Small and all such. Stan and Ford trade a long glance behind his back, silently promising the other that they'll keep an eye on Fidds, then more reluctantly follow him out. Fiddleford stops at the edge of a the woods, impatiently tapping his foot. The twins are taking forever to get here, typically he's the one dragging his feet, and Ford was the one who was the most excited for this yesterday! It's because they think he's hovering in-between headspaces, that it's not safe for him, a full grown adult, to come. Normally, he'd agree with them, but for some reason, their doubts about his headspace and capability are just making him upset. Fiddleford'll show them, he can do this, he can be Big and go search out devil creatures with his friends. He's got this.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
Okay. Maybe he doesn't have this after all.
It was all going so well, Fiddleford was enjoying himself, he only tripped and got scared and hid behind Stan a few times! Until some giant sort of chimera creature jumped them, it was snarling and frothing at the mouth and so scary. Stan and Ford were figuring out ways to fight it, but Fiddleford's already frayed nerves snapped and he ran. He ran until he couldn't breath, hiding behind a twisty and creepy looking tree. He didn't even realize he was crying until he collapsed on the ground. He also realized he was dropping. Hard. And quickly.
Great, this was just what he needed. To be hiding, scared, and crying. All Fidds wanted to do was, was what? Prove he wasn't a scaredy-cat, that he could keep up with them on the research and expeditions? They already knew that, Stan and Ford. No, what he really wanted to do was to prove he could be an adult. To act like one when he needs to, when the time comes. To prove his nasty thoughts wrongs. And look how that turned out for him. He just wants to go home, get into some jammies, and curl up with Bubba and Stanford.
Fidds feels the tear drops labs on his hands, his lips quiver as he tries and fails to hold back his sobs. He’s scared and all alone, he wants comfort. Comfort from his stuffies and from his favorite people. He wants-
“Fidds? Hon is that you!?” It’s Bubba! It’s Bubba’s voice coming from behind his hidey spot! He’s come to save him and take him home where Uncle Stanford can fix him up and Bubba can kiss his boo boos!
“Bubba! ‘M h-here, Bubba!” He calls, not moving from his spot. Uncle Stanford always told him that if he gets lost when Small that he has to stay where he is and wait for him or Bubba to find him. Fidds figures that using his outside voice is still okay, especially if it helps them find him. “Right here Bubba!” He hopes they find him fast, he got scrapes and scratches from running and they sting real bad.
“Fidds! Finally found ya’, we was looking everywhere for you, sweetie.” Bubba rounds the tree, his brow furrowed, but not in an angry way, in a worried way. He was scared. Scared for Fidds. And doesn't that just make him feel even worse, his sobs increasing in force and volume.
"Stanley! Stanley, did you find him? Is he okay?" Uncle Stanford, he's found him, too! Fidds reaches his hands up, still crying, needing to be picked up and held. His feet hurt and his legs feel like wobbly jelly, he doesn't think he can walk back home. He sniffles as Bubba picks him him and moves him around until he's being held in a piggy back ride, Uncle Stanford behind him with a six-fingered hand patting his back. Fidds sniffles some more, his eyes drying up now that he's with his caregivers, the terribly guilty feeling of making them worry and get upset at him clawing up his throat.
"Y' mad at me?" He asked in a soft voice, hiding his face in Bubba's shoulder, he can't see either of their faces from this angle, but it brings him comfort to hide his face away like this.
"Mad? Oh, Lil' Man no, of course we ain't mad at ya'. 0-or upset with ya'." Bubba's hands tighten around Fidds' legs, hiking him further up his back.
"Grammar aside, Stanley's right, F. We aren't upset with you, we were so worried when you ran away, these are dangerous woods even in a group." Uncle Stanford takes breathes, his hand gripping Fidds' shirt tightly, "Please never do that again, I don't think my heart could take it."
Oh, he did make them upset. Not the mad kind, but the worried kind. That made his chest ache and his eyes sting worse than the thought of making them mad. Fidds couldn't help his lips wobbling and breath going funny. His sobs start again, silent and hiccuping.
" 'M sorry, I didn't mean ta' run away. Was-hic-was jus-jus scared by the-and I. I j-just," He can barely speak wiping his eyes on Bubba's shoulder. "I w-wan'ed to come and be-be Big because-hic-because-" He feels like such a bad boy, worrying his Bubba and Uncle Stanford like that. He shouldn't have gone with them. He was so stupid! " 'M a bad boy..."
"No! You're not a bad boy, not at all Fiddleford McGucket! You are sweet and kind and good beyond measure!" Stanford stopped Stan with a hand on his shoulder and turned him around, ducking his head to make eye contact with Fiddleford. "You are such a good boy, Fiddleford, even when you make mistakes or you misbehave on purpose, you'll always be good." Stanford sounded resolute, his eyes firm. His hand left Stan's shoulder to rest gently of Fiddleford's, petting gently at it.
"Yeah, Bud. We get it, you wanted to come with us, but we wouldn't mind postponing this-uh-little "outing" 'till you felt, well, uh. Not so small?" Stan piped up, his neck craned to look at Fiddleford, his nose brushing his cheek and his eyes soft.
"B-but you woulda' had'ta w-watch cartoons n' play games with me. An' other kid stuff. An' I'mma adult. B-but I can be big-"
"We know you are and we know you can be, Fiddleford, but we-Stanley and I love you. It doesn't matter if sometimes you're feeling too-too scared or too small to engage in more adult or dangerous aspects of our work, we would gladly spend a day playing with you."
"Yeah, what Sixer said. Little Man," Bubba sets him down on the ground before sitting down himself and maneuvering until Fidds was sitting in his lap, "Fiddleford, we love hangin' out with you, adult or not. Because it's you we're with. Don' matter what we do; Tinkering' with your creepy ass-uh ignore that word-doomsday bots or playing jacks. 'Sides I like watching cartoons with ya'." Stan crushed Fidds to his chest and noogied his hair.
"R-really? Even though-though I can't-um-I can't-" It's hard for Fidds to get the words out of his mouth, something he always has trouble with when the world feels too big for him.
"It doesn't matter what you can or cannot do, what limitations you may have; you're not just our friend, Fiddleford, you're family to Stanley and I, so none of that matters." Stanford pulls Fiddleford's face to meet his, needing his friend to see the sincerity in his eyes. "Any time we spend with you is time spent well. Not a waste or boring or any other such nonsense your brain tells you. Okay, F?"
Fidds' eyes sting with tears, good tears this time, not those stupid sad and scared tears from earlier, as he pulls Uncle Stanford into the tightest hug he can manage. The tightest one in the whole wide world. Bubba pets the back of his head and rocks them, Uncle Stanford's hands are returning Fidds' super strong hug with one of his own, squeezing his sides tightly. Tight enough to make his whole body relax against him and Bubba, their hands and bodies holding him up in a loving embrace.
Why was he so worked up in the first place? Why would he listen to those mean and nasty thoughts? Of course Bubba and Uncle Stanford wouldn't be upset if he was little, they said it themselves, they're family. And he loves his family oh so much.