Death Cupcakes of Doom

by mandaree1

Anne and Marcy make a vegetable delivery and hang out with some bar-hoppers.

Disclaimer: I don't own Amphibia!

Title: Death Cupcakes of Doom

Summary: Anne and Marcy make a vegetable delivery and hang out with some bar-hoppers.

...

"VEGGIE DELIVERY!" Anne bellowed as she kicked open the door. Marcy followed close behind with a lift of truly dazzling specimens of Hop Pop's craft. Marcy had made sure to check all of them by hand for anything unwelcome before putting them in the boxes. "BOXES'A VEGGIES FOR THE FROG TOO LAZY TO PICK THEM UP FROM THE STAND!"

Marcy winced- more at how loud Anne was than the actual words- as she looked around. Stumpy's Diner seemed infamous in Wartwood, and yet only two or three tables seemed taken. She wondered how it stayed in business.

"I'm comin', I'm comin'!" called Stumpy, though much quietly than Anne. The old chef hobbled around the counter, wiping grease off a spatula attachment with another spatula attachment. "Don't shame a frog fer his social anxiety, Annie."

Anne thrust the lift towards him. She maintained an unnecessarily high amount of eye contact as revenge for the misuse of her name. "Coward."

The frogs in the corner booth cheered their mugs. "Get 'im!" shouted the blue frog Marcy still hadn't been able to pin down for an interview. Apparently he tended to come and go on his own time.

Stumpy sent them a bland glare. "Guessin' yew don't need anymore moonshine fer the night, then?" he asked. "Anne, could I bother ya to fold me some buckets of silverware? I'm low on hand oil."

"Sure, man," Anne said, surprising Marcy.

"You hate folding silverware."

"Oh, totes. But he makes me dinner for free when I do it."

"Runs a hard bargain, this one," he grunted. Stumpy's eyes shifted towards Marcy, and it felt almost like he'd just realized she existed at all. "Yer the other scarecrow, aye? Marshall?"

"Marcy."

"So close to Marshall," he replied, shaking his head, as if this was somehow a big shame. "How's about I make ye somethin' special, huh? Give you a real Wartwood welcome."

Marcy felt her heart swell." Aww, you'd do that for me? That's so-"

Anne stuck a finger into his apron. "Don't you DARE give her one of those death cupcakes."

Her mouth snapped shut. The booth cheered as Stumpy seemed to slump. "Not even a little one?" he tried.

"What is... a death cupcake?" Marcy asked. "Because that sounds awesome."

"It's hell, Marbles." Anne grabbed her arms with a surprising amount of firmness, but not too tight as to be uncomfortable. Marcy could see the war flashbacks going on behind her pupils. "Stumpy makes this eeeevvviiilll sauce, bro. Like. I like spice, and it's evil. I had street food in Newtopia, and it barely scratched the surface. You. Will. Die."

Marcy, torn between saying Newtopian street food wasn't that spicy (which was a lie, but it'd be funny to see Anne's dawning horror at the thought of hotter) and regretting asking in the first place. "Okay. But. Will I be allowed to draw it?"

"Marcy."

"Anne, this is a small town specialty designed entirely to weed out newcomers. It's the kind of weird hokey shit I've filled five notebooks with in the two weeks since I've gotten here. Give me the cupcake."

Stumpy clapped his spatulas together. "Great! I never get ta bake as much as I'd like. You ladies go sit down. I'll bring it round soon."

Anne muttered what sounded like frog swears under her breath as she collected some plastic bins, napkins, and silverware buckets. Marcy figured they'd find their own little corner somewhere, but instead she simply grabbed a chair and drug it over to the booth.

Marcy sat down and stared awkwardly at their company. Marcy could categorize a million plants and never get bored. She could almost lose her wrist to Barbari-Ants getting samples of their coral horns and not even blink. Stay awake for two weeks and come out relatively sane. But being around three older frogs playing cards made her instantly more stressed than any of those concepts.

Marcy didn't know most of Wartwood by name. Anne mentioned them in passing, but very few interacted or introduced herself to her enough for them to stick. But she knew the purple frog with the mismatched eye was Mrs. Croaker, both a regular at Hop Pop's stand and a fairly capable dresser-down. Likewise, she knew the bigger, blueish frog with thick eye sockets was her curse-user master's father- which, she assumed, made him Mr. Flour.

The last one raised his mug to her. "A visit from One-Shoe! An honor."

Marcy glanced at Anne, who laughed and shrugged it off. "Weird in-joke. This is One-Eyed Wally. Wally, this is Marcy."

"S'pleasure," he said, smiling toothily. "Sorry for being so short earlier, love. I'm just not one for the questions."

"You could've said that," she offered sheepishly, only a little ashamed for the misunderstanding.

"Aye, I could've. But ye'll remember me bouncin' through a window better."

"I'm sure your head will remember Sylvia's fist when you wrecked her tea place," Anne retorted, lining up her silverware. "He's always like this, Marbles. One time I saw a cryptid and he took me on a long adventure in the woods instead of telling me he didn't think it was real."

Wally took a long swallow of his mug. "Gave us a fun, kindred friendship, didn't it?"

Mrs. Croaker rolled her eyes, setting a card on the table. Marcy didn't recognize the kind of game they were playing- a Wartwood special, perhaps, like the death currently brewing in the kitchen. "Settlin' in okay at the farm?" she asked, surprising Marcy. "When Anne came to us, she was a pretty terrible farmer. Thank frog you've got that weird thinga-ma-doohickey holdin' up the slack."

"His name is Frobo." Anne pointed a finished silverware roll at her accusingly. "And you call me once a week because the cowapillars put their favorite bucket too high for you to reach, so don't judge."

"That's just 'cause I'm lazy, child. I could snap my fingers and make better veggies grow out my ear than you did your first crop."

She blew a raspberry. "You let one poisonous mite devour half your stock and taint the rest and no one ever lets you forget it."

"The farming is fine," said Marcy, who suddenly realized she hadn't answered the question. "I was doing all sorts of guard stuff in Newtopia, so. I'm kind of jacked."

The purple frog leaned closer, fluttering her eyelashes. "Yew got any older cap'n friends ol' Sadie should know about?"

"I mean, I know a few, but they're not much older than us."

"I said older, sweetie. Not old."

Mr. Flour waved a hand between Mrs. Croaker and Marcy, speaking up for the first time since they'd arrived. "Don't taint the children, Croaker. And you!" He shoved his finger into Wally's chest. "That's yer last drink on me."

Wally tutted. "Aww, but I watched yer lassies today! That means free drinks."

"That means I allow you to put your habit onto my checkbook. You get one more Boombora and I'll personally hand you over to Alcoholics Antymous."

He gasped, mock-offended, and shoved the mug over to their side of the table. "Fine! I don't need yer pity drinks anyway. S'all yers, Anne."

Anne snorted and leaned in close to mutter, "they have this argument every Thursday."

Marcy just barely stifled a giggle.

Anne has just barely finished her buckets when Stumpy arrived, setting a bowl of warm red liquid in front of her. "Swamp Water Curry fer the lassie-" he plonked down a simple platter with a pretty pink cupcake on top- "aaaaannndddd a Death Cupcake fer our new friend."

The use of the word- or maybe it was just inhaling all those spices?- made Marcy warm.

Wally whooped and slammed his fists down on the table. "Dinner and a show!"

"Ahh, fond memories," Mrs. Croaker hummed. "Never did grow my nose hairs back after I ate that."

"Maddie uses them in her magic stuff. I think it works as a supplement for fire from the underworld."

"Babies," Anne said, but pushed the half-full mug over to Marcy. "Here, Mar-Mar. It's just dew water to us."

The whole discussion felt like pre-recorded dialogue- the typical stock options Stumpy's would offer as an outsider looking in. Marcy didn't mind that in Newtopia, not when she had a world to explore and cosplay for. But Wartwood was a lot smaller than Newtopia- and, perhaps most damning of all, the only other human around was part of the cutscene.

It was really scary, is what she means. That even though she'd gotten a cloak and arrows and a job as a ranger, Anne had somehow managed to sink into Amphibia in ways she probably never would. And she wasn't certain that it was repairable. That Wartwood would be okay without an Anne, or Anne would be okay without a Wartwood.

But that's okay! Because Marcy Wu always has a plan. And it helps to have a king on her side for once.

And so, Marcy bit into the cupcake.

And regretted it.

And as she chugged for her life, Anne came and patted her on the back, and it was nice to have her attention again. So she decided it was a win-win.

Author's Note: This is somehow both Very Vague and Extremely Precise in the headcanons territory lol. Mostly I just really wanted to write Marcy struggling with being a wallflower amongst some of Anne's weird froggy friends. I also like to think Anne brings Wally home a lot after veggie deliveries, Mr. Baker buying drinks for babysitters, and Mrs. Croaker coming along for the cards to win some coppers.

-Mandaree1