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analvelocity · 4 years

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Rubbernecks

This is a submission I wrote for @thewebcomicsreview‘s “Write a Story You Worthless Piece of Shit”, a writing prompt meme with prompts silly enough that I wanted to try my hand at one of them. I realized I haven’t written any prose recently and I felt the itch, so thanks Daniel for giving me an excuse to go mad in front of a Word Doc for way too many hours.

This one, uh, got away from me, but I had a lot of fun writing it and I hope people have at least half as much fun reading it. The prompt I chose was as follows: A middle-aged southern redneck truck driver finds the legendary Kitsune-Neko Katana, the only weapon that can save the world from an invading alien race.

You can find all 4,600+ words of Rubbernecks below the cut.

ANALVELOCITY DOT TUMBLR PRESENTS: RUBBERNECKS

Bobby cracked open the window and felt the now-cooling Mohave air ripple through his cap. As the sun hid once more behind the end of the road, he took off his aviators and hooked them over the top button of his shirt. It was going to be one of the long ones, he could feel it. Just him and the white lines 20 feet ahead of him as he directed 40 tons of cargo through the dusty blackness. This was home to him, and if he was one of those strange monk fellers, he’d much rather be meditatin’ here than on a mountaintop. It was for this reason he chose to leave his radio off, letting the breeze whip his ears at 65 miles an hour as he breathed a sigh of contentment.

This was the life. No Garth Brooks or radio chatter to disturb his personal zen. Always the feelin’ of progress, feelin’ like no matter where you’re gon’ end up, you’ll be right where yer’ meant ta be. When all was said an’ done, there was nothin’ more peaceful than- BOOM. A ripple shook his steel cocoon as he felt an electric shock run from his toes to the last remnants of his hairline. Stunned for a moment, he glanced to his right as he saw blames bellowing out of a line of Joshua Trees running about half a mile of the highway. He could feel ol’ Bessie begin to wobble and shake, and Bobby knew that was a sure sign that he should pull up. As Bobby stepped out of the truck, he felt a blast of hot air lash at his face. He reached into one of the back pockets of his jeans and pulled out a crumpled box of cigarettes. He felt around his pockets. Nothing. He looked up at the door, then again at the bent cigarette in his mouth. With a sigh, he walked up to one of the nearby burning plants and lit it. As he took a couple of puffs and surveyed the landscape, he saw it. At the end of the trail of flame, a series of blinking lights. Now Bobby here was no Boy Scout, but he knew Morse Code when he saw it. “Prob’ly one of them there Wright Brothers types gettin’ ambitious.” He chuckled to himself as he began to walk toward the lights. Far as Bobby was concerned, the ground was good enough for him. His eyes began to readjust to the darkness as he approached the source of the fire. His eyes widened. That was no airplane. The flaming ball of chrome sticking out of the cracked earth before him looked like it had no doors or windows, but as he stepped around it he noticed a single hole burned through what he presumed was the side of it. He inspected the hole, and realized that whatever shot this thing, used some serious hardware. The kind of hardware Jimmy One-Eye would probably give his left nut just ter’ get a look at. Bobby had dealt with more busted radiators in his time than he could count, so he knew this thing was goin’ to be too hot to touch. Still, he left his gloves and kit in the truck, and he needed to get this cargo to LA before morning so he wasn’t interested in staying any longer than he needed to. Bobby’s task was simple - see if there were any survivors, and leave the rest to whatever guvamint acronym dealt with flaming sky eggs. No time to get this engine back runnin’, assumin’ this thing even had an engine.

Wrapping his baseball cap around his right hand, he tested the egg by poking it. Cold to the touch. Cautiously, he put the hat back on his head and placed his bare hand on the surface of the object. A series of beeps. Some more flashing lights. A ripple in the surface, and then beginning to shudder and groan. Bobby stepped back.

The shuddering began to grow and grow in intensity, shivering and rippling as it morphed into alien shapes. Bobby stepped back once more.

Then it stopped. Then it made a tiny, almost imperceptible dinging sound. Then it spat out a girl. At this point Bobby didn’t know how to react. But if he didn’t the egg sure didn’t either as it flung the girl several feet in the air, landing her face-first with a thud at his feet. Bobby leaned over and checked her pulse. He couldn’t feel anything. He rolled her on to her back. She looked Asian, that much he was sure, and covered in deep lacerations and burns from head to toe.

She seemed young, definitely too young to be out of high school. She wore a short blue skirt, the kind of short that would make the most progressive mother clutch her pearls. A white shirt that seemed way too small, exposing her belly button. An odd-looking boy scout necktie that seemed to glow in the dark. She looked like one of those girl hero types that he caught lil’ Jenny watchin’ back at home from time to time. And in her hand, the most absurd looking blade he’d ever seen in his life.

It was long thin blade, with what looked like nine fox tails working as a guard at the hilt. Several inscriptions of cats, were engraved on the blade, each one glowing a searingly bright pink.

“Well that there’s a bit fruity, ain’t it.” He reached down to check her pulse. Nothing. Bobby furrowed his brow. He took his hat back off and wiped the sweat off his forehead. With a sigh, he reached for the sword clasped in her hand and picked it up. What happened after was immediate. The girl’s clothes shifted into some kind of modest private school uniform. But more frighteningly, Bobby felt a surge of energy flow through the sword. Bobby’s world shook, and then everything went black.

********

“Wake up, Chosen-Senpai.”

Bobby shuddered awake to see a blurry figure standing over him. As his eyes adjusted to the bright lights around him, he sat up and felt the shallow pools of water rippling between his fingers. “I ain’t in the Mojave anymore.” As he looked around him, he could see the girl more vividly now. The same girl he pulled from the wreckage, but strangely uninjured.

“Very astute of you, Senpai.” Bobby eyed her with a mix of scorn and confusion. He looked at her, she looked at him. After what felt like half a minute of waiting for the other to say something, Bobby decided to break the ice. “Where ar-“ “The sword holds the past lives of all who have wielded it before. This is the realm where the Chosen meet, to share their combined knowledge and experience with the Hero who wields it.” Bobby’s eyebrow slowly raised. “Who ar-“ “My name is Sakura. Heiress to the GenkiNeko toy chain, forty-seventh wielder of the Neko-Kitsune sword, slayer of the Kawaiiju. I will be your spirit guide on your journey as you continue my work, as the previous owners of the sword have done before me.” Bobby stood up. “Now wait here missy, I ain’t about t-“ “You are the forty-eighth wielder of the Neko-Kitsune sword. It is your destiny.” “I’m a trucker. The only destiny I got is-” “Listen, old man, I like this even less than you do. But the Kawaiiju aren’t going to stop with me. Whether you like it or not, you will need to face them.” Bobby laughed. “Let’s see how these illegal immig’rints handle the 12-gauge I got in the back. I don’t need no’ gay knife fer’ tha-“ “Your shotgun will have no impact on the Kawaiiju, Senpai. Only the sword can pierce their flesh” “Well ain’t that convenient.” Bobby was stunned for a second. He actually finished a sentence with this crazy woman. “What-“ “You must take the sword and follow your path. The sword is just a blade in your hands now, but the Power of Friendship will ignite the Neko-Kitsune Sword’s true power.” “No.” “What?” “I’m not goin’ ter do it. I don’t even know what you want me ter do-“ “You have no choice. It is your destiny.” Bobby scoffed. “Lady, this here?” he gestured to the void surrounding them. “This is America. And it’s my gosh-durned right to do whatever I want. That’s the American wa-” Sakura rolled her shoulders backward and groaned into the sky. “Burgerland, of course. Why did I have to crash here?” Bobby chuckled, looked at the sword still clasped in his hand, then smiled. “Listen, Say-koo-ruh. What if I take this thing to the nearest truck-stop and give it to the first teenager that rolls by?” She paused, pinching her chin between her thumb and forefinger. “That, uh, might work? But there’s a pro-”

“Good, it’s settled then. Now I don’t want ter hear any more of this talk about Nee-Koes and Keet-Soons and Cow-Why-Juice, you hear me?” She shrugged, an almost resigned smirk on her face. “Fine. But when what happens happens, make sure you keep the blade nearby. The last think we need is humanity’s last hope in the hands of an alien invader.”

Bobby shrugged dismissively, and for a while the two stood there for a moment in awkward silence.

“So what the heck is a Sen-Pi-“

********

Bobby shuddered awake, sweating. He checked his watch. Damn, he’d been snoozing out here for 15 minutes. If his boss called in while he was out here, that was probably comin’ out of his paycheck.

“Strange dream.”

He looked around. The sword was still in his hand, but the body was gone. Bobby decided it was probably best not to question it, as he shrugged and made his way back to the truck. On the way, he considered throwing the sword away, but something prevented him.

“Could probably get gas money selling this to a scrapyard.” Bobby chuckled. In fact, now that he thought about it, that didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

By the time Bobby was settling back into the driver’s seat, he’d already decided on the place – a scrapper mentioned by Billy-Bob in the Trucker’s Network just off the beaten track. And better yet – still on the way to LA.

The past hour, he thought, must have been a hallucination. There were certainly enough engine fumes to rationalize that as such, but a Japanese schoolgirl? That one was certainly new. A pang hit him as he warmed up the engine – was this guilt? Bobby quickly brushed the feeling aside as he pressed his foot against that familiar accelerator.

********

thru-thrum.

A few hours had passed, and a strange feeling washed over Bobby as the white lines on the empty road began to blur together. Hair standing at the back of his neck. A chill of… anticipation? He pushed it aside as he reached to the passenger seat for another cig- hang on, was the sword glowing?

thru-thrum. One eye on the road, he looked across the car and sure enough, leaning against the glovebox was that girly blade. The inscriptions were now pulsing, but the blade itself was now glowing with a pink hue that was growing steadily brighter. This time, Bobby knew he wasn’t hallucinating. thru-thrum. thru-thrum. “The Kitsune-Neko senses her prey. The hunt begins.”

That familiar voice.

THRU-THRUM. THRU-THRUM.

“But who is the hunter, and who the hunted?”

“Oh fuck me! Now I’m hearin’ the dead!” THRU-THRUM. THRU-THRUM.

Bobby wiped the sweat off his brow. His head was pounding. His hands were shaking. And then, in the corner of his eye, he glanced something in his rear-view mirror. Something advancing. His eyes widened as terror ripped the breath from his throat.

THRU-THRUM. THRU-THRUM. THRU-THRUM.

Something giant was slithering along the road at an incredible speed, steadily, advancing on ol’ Bessie. Like a Beanie Baby fucked a Kraken. And it looked livid. Bobby didn’t think. He punched the gas and picked up the microphone on the CB Radio. Shaking, he clicked the button and spoke. “10-33, 10-33. This is Freebird, callin’ from the Interstate 40 en route to Shakytown.” He paused for a moment. “10-33 please respond.” Static. Second after uncomfortable second rolled by. And then, a familar;

“5 by 5, this is the Ludlow Watering Hole. What’s your situation? Over.” He breathed a sigh of relief. But that relief was fleeting as the spectre loomed over his rear-view. But now he knew Maeve was in town. This varmint was gon’ find out the meaning of Southern Hospitality. “I’m about 20 minutes east of your position. I got the hammer down and a bogey on my tail. I need all the drivers you have. And guns. As many as you got. Over.”

A moment.

“Copy that. I’ll contact the boys. You know, I wouldn’t do this for just anyone.” Another sigh of relief. “Oh, and Freebird? Welcome back. Over.” Bobby hung up the mic and glanced at his rear-view. Yep, definitely close now. Whatever he was going to do, he would have to do it fast. And hopefully Maeve wasn’t dragging her feet. THRU-THRUM. THRU-THRUM. THRU-THRUM.

The sound was very loud now, the sword to his right now shimmering with light, shivering like it was itchin’ for a fix of the good stuff. And that’s when he saw the sign - Fender Joe’s House of Scrap. A lightbulb moment – if he was gon’ take this thing on, with or without the Trucker Network, one of them was gon’ die in that metal graveyard. He twisted the steering wheel to the left, and felt Bessie tilt with him. But Bobby knew Bessie like she was his second wife. And with a flourish, the truck righted itself as he flew through the exit. The pursuer was not as elegant, slamming itself into the wall of a nearby overpass, splattering glowing technicolor blood. But the blood stopped in midair, and rushed back to its host as the tentacled monstrosity regained its composure and resumed its pursuit. As it did, the radio once more crackled into life. “10-8, 10-8. Freebird, we have some boys heading to your position. What is your situation with the bogey? Over.” Bobby had never been so overjoyed to hear anyone speak over that radio. He picked the mic back up. “10-4. I’m about to dig in at Fender Joe’s. Get here as quick as possible. 4-10? Over.” A moment.

“Negatory, you’re a Mud Duck. Please repeat, over.”

“I said, I’m at Fender J-“ The truck slammed through the gates of the scrapyard as he hit the brakes. Carefully adjusting the steering wheel, he shifted the handbrake and the truck whipped around, skidding through the clay for tens of feet before glancing the piles of old whitegoods littering the compound. No time to think. Bobby reached behind his seat and pulled out his 12-Gauge and a few boxes of ammo. “This is going to be Freebird’s last stand.” He thought as he stepped out of the truck and turned to face the entrance. His rearview told him that objects may be larger than they appear. That was a gosh-durned understatement. The Kawaiiju before him stood at least 20 feet tall, with a mass of tentacles ripping through the fence as it advanced on him. As the creature drew closer, he could faintly hear the sound of… was that meowing? “Okay, I know you’re new to this country so lemme teach you somethin’ about the Second Amendment!” he shouted at the creature, as he unloaded two shotgun shells directly into its My Little Pony-lookin’ face. It doubled back and made a high-pitched, ear-piercing shriek, and then rearranged its face back into its original shape. Bobby laughed. Clearly this thing didn’t get the memo, he thought to himself as he popped some new shells into his gun. He was preparing his next one-liner when an errant tentacle whipped him, sending the man careering into a pile of old toasters.

********

“Ergh… Just give me a sec” he said to the figure looming over him. It took a moment for his clearly concussed brain to register that a familiar Japanese girl was standing over him. He fumbled around helplessly on his bed of toasters for a moment until he looked across the compound, realizing that his shotgun was currently sinking into the creature’s bags of flesh.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed. Hearing him, the creature whipped around and began rushing toward him.

“Reach out your arm.”

“What?”

“Just do it. And say, ‘Neko Neko Nii!’” “WHAT?”

The creature was once again looming over him now.

“Just do it!”

Bobby blushed and gritted his teeth. “Argh! Neko Neko Nii!”

The Kawaiiju raised a clawed tentacle in the air, and slammed it down above him. SHWING!

Bobby opened his eyes. Somehow, he was still alive. With a pink sword in his hand, held above his head. The creature’s tentacle sliced clean off, wriggling limply on the toaster bed at his side. Sakura laughed. “I can’t believe you actually said that.” Bobby didn’t have time to think. Primal survival instinct kicked in as he shot up, grabbing the hilt of the blade with both hands as he slashed at tentacle after tentacle that whipped at him. And one by one, they all fell. The Kawaiiju roared mightily once more as it threw its full weight at Bobby, who ducked to the side and with one swift uppercut, slashed right through the creature’s torso. Neon blood spewed everywhere, coating Bobby as he wiped the goo from his eyes. The Kawaiiju was hurting now, that’s for sure. “Yeah! How’d you like that?” The creature stood still for a second, then the blood once more began to return to its body, peeling itself from the toasters, the sword, and Bobby himself. Sakura, still standing with her thumbs hooked into the pockets of her blazer, looked on at this with mild bemusement. The tentacles wriggled back into life as they crawled like worms back to their host, reattaching themselves to the sockets as Bobby looked on in horror. He clutched the sword and held it before him. “All right girl, you said this sword could kill these things. Why isn’t this working?” “I told you before, didn’t I?” “Tell me wha-“ he failed to ask as one tentacle, now balled into a fist, slammed him in the face, knocking him to the ground. He could only look on disorientedly as the blade skittered off and disappeared into a pile of refrigerators. He reached out. “Neko Neko Nii!” Nothing. “Neko Neko Nii!” he shouted. The Kawaiiju almost seemed to cackle as it readied itself for the killing blow. “Well Bobby, I guess you were going to die someday.” he said to himself as he relaxed his body and closed his eyes, allowing himself to embrace the void. Six tentacles raised into the air as the creature gurgled with something adjacent to laughter.

It was at that moment that a truck burst through the entrance of the scrapyard, careering through the mud to collide face-first with the creature. Once more it shrieked as it exploded into that glowing rainbow bodily fluid that Bobby was becoming uncomfortably accustomed to.

Dazed, Bobby looked to his side, and shouted out a hoo-rah as five trucks circled around the interior of the compound, before trying to get up once more. Several familiar faces emerged from the doors, each one more heavily-armed than the last. And last, stepping out of the truck that saved him, was a heavy-set woman holding an LMG like one would hold a briefcase. “Just in the nick of time, hey Freebird!” Bobby smiled, pumping his fist into the air as he righted himself. “Maeve! And not a moment too soon! Good to see you babe.” “Now Bobby, you wanna try saying that again?” she said, tapping the LMG with her other hand like a used car dealer would slap a car. “Point taken. Eyes up, everybody, because this ain’t over.” Maeve frowned. “You sure about that? This situation is lookin’ pretty handled over-“ It was at that moment that the truck flipped into the air, spinning into the other trucks as the Kawaiiju revealed itself once more, enraged. Maeve stepped back, shocked for a moment at what she was seeing, and readied her machine gun. “All right boys, let’s show this rubberneck what happens when you mess with the Trucker Network!” The team nodded in acknowledgement as they all began to unload their firearms into the tentacled horror. Pistols, assault rifles, SMGs, shotguns... oh shit, is that a rocket launcher? Maeve and Bobby both ducked out of the way as the first rocket connected with flesh. First an explosion of blood and fire, then the creature reforming just in time for another rocket to scatter alien meat once more. “It’s not working!” said Maeve. “Do what you gotta do – we’ll cover you!” Bobby’s eyes darted around the landscape, riddled with flashes and metal and enough colour to make Lisa Frank start bleeding out the eyes. “Thanks for comin’, Maeve. Glad to know you have my back after all these years.” “Naw, are you gettin’ sentimental, boy?” Maeve looked back and grinned toothily. “We’ll always have your back. We’re the Trucker Network! And more important, we’re friends.” An epiphany struck Bobby like a bolt of lightning.

“The Power of Friendship will ignite the Neko-Kitsune Sword’s true power.”

Without a second thought, Bobby held his arms before him as he lunged toward the beast. It was like time had slowed down, as he moved faster, superhumanly so, toward the creature, ducking and weaving between tentacles. As he approached the creature’s torso, his arms clasped together in a thrusting motion.

In a flash of bright pink light, the sword once again appeared in his hand, and drove straight through the heart just recently exposed by an errant stick of dynamite. The creature shrieked one more bloodcurdling shriek, and then collapsed inward on itself like a black hole. The Kawaiiju was dead, and this time it wasn’t coming back. Everyone looked on, dumbfounded. And then the cheering began. Bobby and Maeve moved into the circle of trucks, Maeve setting down her LMG as a few of the other truckies pulled out some beers from the trucks. Cracking open some cold ones, they all began to chatter among one another. Maeve approached Bobby once more. “Well Freebird, I can’t say this was the evening I was expecting to have, but I think we’re all going to remember it.” She eyed him up and down. “For more reasons than one.” Bobby looked at her quizzically, then glanced at the apparition of Sakura. She was doubled-over in laughter. “Okay what are you laughin’ about?” It was at that moment that he noticed that everyone was looking at him with a bemused look on their faces. Bobby looked down. “…oh.”

********

“…happy birthday dear Jenny, happy birthday to you!”

Bobby looked on at his daughter with pride, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Thank y’all for coming!” she said, buzzing with excitement as she blew out the 18 candles dotting her carrot cake. She looked over at Bobby, beaming. Bobby knew he wasn’t around all that much for her – he was wed to the road and it never let him stay in one place for long. A glance over at her mother’s piercing glare indicated that she concurred.

As the party began to wrap up and the family began to tidy the barn, Bobby approached his daughter.

“Hey Dad!”

“Hi, Jenny.” He furrowed his brow. Was this really the right time? Is this really the right choice? “Come with me, I want to give you your birthday present, but it’s out the front”

“Sure thing!” Jenny gleefully responded.

Bobby was getting cold feet. Her mother would certainly kill him when she found out. Probably for the best that he get out of the state as soon as possible.

He turned around to her as they stepped through the front gate. “So this isn’t just a gift from me, it’s a gift from the whole Trucker Network. So make sure to say thank you to Maeve next time she’s in town.”

“Will do!” Jenny was clearly overflowing with excitement, with her hands balled into fists.

Bobby opened the door of his truck, sighed for a moment, and then pulled out an intricately-wrapped box, short in height and depth but a few feet long. He looked up – Sakura’s ghost was sitting there, sporting an almost Cheshire-Cat grin.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this? You know how dangerous it is out there. You know you’ll be exposing her to a world she’ll never come back from.”

Bobby frowned determinedly. “Yes, but will she want to?”

He handed the box to Jenny. Like a ravenous beast, she ripped the box open with her teeth, the ribbons and paper falling in tatters on the dirt road beneath them. Bobby winced – he’d spent all night on that.

She looked inside the box. “Whoa! Thanks Dad!” A moment of silence. “…uh, what is it?”

“This,” said Bobby, smiling as he drew the long metal object from the box. “is a tyre iron. You’re going to need it for the other half of your present.”

He gestured over toward the other side of the street. Jenny gasped. There it was, a brand-new semi-trailer. Not one of the most heavy-duty bits of hardware around, but if his Jenny was going to learn to drive, she was going to drive the best.

“Is it- is it-“ she was practically vibrating.

“Yeah, kiddo.” he smiled. “She’s all yours. Keys are in the ignition.”

“Um, I don’t want to ruin your moment, but…”

He looked out toward the gate of the house. His ex was advancing on him and he didn’t need any supernatural sword powers to know that his time was up.

“Well, it was fun while it lasted.”

********

Jenny ran to the truck and sat in the front seat. She’d never felt so alive; her Dad may be gone a lot but there was always something so magical, so fantastical about the stories he’d tell her about his time on the road. Sitting in this truck, she felt closer to him than ever before. She sighed contentedly, then looked over at her dad. And then a pang of sadness, as she heard the truck rev up and pull out, disappearing into the street once more, her mother screaming and shouting at him the whole way down the block. Tears began to well up in her eyes. Just like that, he was gone again. *chhhk* Jenny looked up. The truck radio was coming to life. “This is Freebird to Sailormoon, Sailormoon please respond, over.” Jenny wiped the tears from her eyes as she hurriedly picked up the microphone. “10-4, 10-4, This is Sailormoon, hearing you loud and clear, over.” “Freebird to Sailormoon, I’m proud of you. Sorry I had to hightail. You know your mother. Over.” She giggled. “Sailormoon to Freebird, it’s okay. Bring me back something nice. Over.” A moment. “10-4 to that.” “Motherbear to Freebird and Sailormoon, this is adorable but you are hogging a vital channel. Cut the shit, over.”

Jenny dropped the mic, embarrassed.

“Sorry Maeve” said her dad. “I’m back on the road again, what have you got for me?”

“Some rubbernecks causing havoc in a town just south of your position. Follow the highway and you can’t miss it.”

“Freebird to Motherbear, roger that.”

Jenny grinned before picking up the mic again. “Give’ em hell, Dad.”

#short story #short fiction #writing prompt

4 notes · View notes

thelastspeecher · 5 years

Note

💋 with Fidds and Stan in the Spy au, like Ford would go with Fidds if he could but his skills are needed elsewhere for this mission, which takes place at some pride event (which could secretly be the location of where an important package is to be exchanged). Also Angie getting a kick seeing Stan all glamoured up in colours, which Stan isn't a big fan of at all

💋 - Pretend Couple

I’m gonna pretend that the reason I’m posting this now isn’t because I procrastinate, but rather because I was waiting to post it until Pride month. Here you go. Some very timely spy stuff.

Send an emoji and one or more characters!

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“Give mea second,” Ford said, holding up a finger. He dug around in his back pocket, pulled out his phone, and took apicture of Stan. “Perfect.”

“What areyou doing?” Stan asked. He scratched hisarm. “Damn, these sequins areitchy.” Ford sniggered. “What’s so funny?”

“You’redressed up in sequins and Day-Glo colors, Stanley. There’s nothing about this situation thatisn’t funny.” Ford tapped on his phone afew times. “There. That should cheer Angie up.” Stan gestured to Fiddleford, who was deckedout in a similar outfit.

“Youdidn’t laugh when you saw him! Fiddlesticks doesn’t dress up like this either!”

“That youknow of,” Ford said quietly. Stan staredat Fiddleford.

“Really?”he asked. Fiddleford turned as red ashis flamboyant scarf.

“Stanford,we should get goin’. Finish the missionas soon as possible. I’m sure Stan wouldlike to get back to his fam’ly.”

“Yes,yes,” Ford said. “We should-” The theme from Star Wars began to play. “Oh. One moment.” Ford tapped on his phoneagain. “You’re on speaker.”

“That wasthe best thing I’ve seen all week!”Angie’s voice shouted exuberantly. “Oh,Lord, that almost makes up fer bein’ benched from field missions fer the nextnine months.”

“Have youshown the girls yet?” Ford asked.

“I didn’tthink of that! I’m goin’ to do that!”

“Angie-”Stan started.

“Darlin’,let me have my amusements where I can,” Angie said. “And don’t pretend like ya wouldn’t have theexact same reaction if Stanford was the one in that getup.”

“Yeah, well,it shoulda been him in the sequins,” Stan muttered. Ford frowned at Stan. “I know, I know. You’re benched from field missions, too.”

“Not allfield missions. Just ones involvingcrowds,” Ford corrected. “The lastmission I went on was…difficult.”

“No,Apple, don’t-” Angie’s voice came over the phone. She let out a loud sigh. “I got to go. The dog’s gettin’ into stuff. Have fun on the mission. Bringback souvenirs.”

“Goodbye,Angie,” Ford said. Angie hung up. Ford put his phone back into his pocket andpicked up the manila folder he had set down to grab his phone. “All right. The debriefing can continue.”

“Great,”Stan said, scratching his leg. “Whatexactly are we doing?” Ford opened thefolder.

“You willbe picking up an important package at the Pride celebration,” he explained,skimming the contents of the folder. “Try to blend in with the crowds both before and after you haveretrieved the package. Let us know whenyou have the package in your possession, head to the corner of Mayer andGarfield, and wait for extraction.”

“Soundseasy enough,” Fiddleford said.

“It’smost certainly easier than some of the previous missions, yes. Your cover, as minor as it may be, is thatyou are a couple.” Ford closed thefolder. “If you wish, you can use falsenames, should you have to call for each other in the crowd.”

“Allright, well, I’ll be Tyson, then,” Stan said.

“Clark,”Fiddleford said. Stan squinted at him.

“How manygay guys named Clark have you actually met?” he asked.

“Three.”

“Wait,really?”

“Theywere all paramours of Lute’s at some point,” Fiddleford said with a shrug. He grimaced. “Oh. Lute’s in town. Do we have to worry about him attendin’ thecelebration?”

“No. Angie’s already sent him on an errand runthat should take a few hours. Themission should be finished by the time he returns with what she asked him toget.”

“What didshe ask him to pick up?” Stan asked, curious despite himself. Ford furrowed his brow.

“I thinkshe claimed to have a craving for a very specific specialty food. I can’t remember what, but it’s onlyavailable in a few stores far from where the celebration will be.” Ford shrugged. “But that’s not relevant to the mission. You best head out now to beat the crowds. And…” A twinkle appeared in Ford’s eye. “Have a gay old time.”

-----

“Allright, package received, heading to the drop-off location,” Stan said, stuffingthe item – which was much smaller than he’d expected – into his fanny pack.

“Excellent. Be sure not to lose track of it,” Fordreplied over the earpiece.

“Won’t bea problem, thanks to whoever came up with these outfits. I mean, I’m not exactly the most fashionforward person, but even I know fanny packs look awful,” Stan grumbled.

“I thinkfanny packs are cute,” Fiddleford piped up. Stan rolled his eyes.

“Ofcourse you do.” Stan peered around thecorner of the alleyway entrance. “Coast’sclear. Let’s get this over with.”

“Ahem.” At the sound of Fiddleford clearing histhroat, Stan looked over. Fiddlefordheld out a hand. Stan groaned loudly.

“C’mon, man.”

“It’s ferthe mission,” Fiddleford hissed.

“Are yousure you don’t secretly have a crush on me, Fiddlesticks?”

“Yermarried to my younger sister!”

“That’snot a no.”

“Fercryin’ out loud,” Fiddleford muttered, grabbing Stan’s hand. He pulled Stan out of the alleyway. They were immediately assaulted by the joyousshouts and thumping music of the celebration. They began to walk down the sidewalk, heading for the drop-off. Stan’s scowl grew worse with every step.

“Ford,did the people who came up with these costumes ever actually go to Pride?”he hissed. “Because there are plenty ofpeople in plain T-shirts. Seems likethese outfits are only less attention-grabbing here than they would be on anormal fucking day.” There was noresponse over the earpiece. “Ford?”

“He’sprob’ly not responding ‘cause yer throwin’ a temper tantrum over somethin’ hecouldn’t control,” Fiddleford said quietly.

“Dude, Ihave two kids. I know what a tempertantrum looks like. I was not having atemper tantrum.”

“Whateverya-” Fiddleford stopped abruptly. “Hang on, do ya hear that?” Stan stopped as well and strained his ears todistinguish any single thing from the joyful cacophony surrounding them. A familiar voice carried above the noise.

“-well, I’ms’pposed to be runnin’ an errand fer my sister, but it’s not that pressin’, soI figured I’d stop by the celebration on my way.” Stan and Fiddleford exchanged a panickedlook.

“Lute!”they whispered.

“Pfft, nah,I checked with her to make sure it wasn’t time-sensitive,” Lute continued. His voice was getting louder. Presumably, because he was getting closer. “She made me promise to pick up a couplesouvenirs fer my adorable nieces, but since I was already here, she couldn’treally tell me not to come. Rushed meoff the phone, though. Somethin’ ‘boutthe dog bein’ trouble, I think.”

“So thatexplains why you aren’t all dressed up like you usually are for Pride,” asecond voice said. Lute and whoever hewas with were getting closer by the second. Fiddleford looked around frantically.

“There’snowhere to go, the crowd’s too thick!”

“Justcalm down, act normal,” Stan hissed at him. “Maybe he won’t see us.”

“Usually,you’re dressed up like those two over there,” the second voice said. Stan and Fiddleford looked over. Standing across the street was Lute,accompanied by a man much taller than him, wearing a tanktop with multiple heartsemblazoned on it in a rainbow color scheme. The man was pointing at Stan and Fiddleford. Lute looked in their direction. He frowned.

“Yeah, I…hangon.” Lute stepped into the street. Panicking, Stan grabbed Fiddleford andplanted a kiss on his lips. Fiddleford’seyes bulged. “…Oh. Never mind.”

“What?”Lute’s companion asked.

“Theylooked familiar, but I must’ve been imaginin’ it. Let’s go find some of those lil flags. I bet Fidds would want one.” Lute and his companion disappeared into thecrowd. Fiddleford pulled away from Stan,his face beet red.

“StanleyPines-” he started. Ford’s voicecrackled over their earpieces.

“Fidds,Stan, be careful, Lute’s at Pride!”

“No shit,Sixer,” Stan growled. “We just saw himwith his lay of the week.”

“…Oh. He didn’t see you, right?”

“Right,”Fiddleford said. His cheeks were stillred, but beginning to return to their normal color.

“Why thehell didn’t you tell us earlier?” Stan demanded.

“I didn’tknow! I just got off the phone withAngie. Lute decided to stop at Pridebefore he went on the errand, and he only told her after he had arrived, so shecouldn’t tell him not to.”

“We know,”Fiddleford said in an undertone. “Weheard him talkin’ to the feller he was with. Even in this crowd, his voice carries.”

“Well…” Ford seemed at a loss for words. He cleared his throat. “Continue to the drop-off point, and make itfast. Lute might double back and see thetwo of you.”

“Yep,”Stan ground out. He grabbed Fiddleford’shand and began to drag him towards the drop-off point. “Fiddlesticks, you better not say a wordabout-”

“Do yareally think I’d mention it?” Fiddleford replied tartly. “It weren’t exactly somethin’ I’ll rememberfondly later.”

“Yeah,yeah.” Stan glanced at Fiddlefordmomentarily. “I won’t either. You’re not a very good kisser.” Fiddleford’s face turned red again.

“…Stanley?”Ford asked over the earpieces. Stan winced.

“Yeah?”

“Wouldyou mind repeating that? And elaborating? I’m very curious as to how you’ve concludedmy boyfriend is not good at kissing.”

#kajdasfd I take so long to do prompts sometimes whoops #Stan tells Ford that he is not going to elaborate upon what he said to Fidds #but that he stands by it #in his opinion Angie is a much better kisser than Fidds #Spy AU #Stanley Pines #Fiddleford McGucket #Stanford Pines #Angie McGucket #Lute McGucket #there are elements of Stangie but I don't think I'll tag it #my writing #ficlet #writing meme #ask #bluestuffeh

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henriiiii-1001old · 3 years

Text

TIS THE MONTH OF GAYS DARLIIIINNNGSSSSSSSS!!!!!!

#happy pride month!!!!#<333 #i love all you gay lil fellers #and to my lovely allies as well!!

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assless-chapstick · 4 years

Note

WAIT NO COME BACK, it's Daddy kink Charles slut again! We can't talk about Arthur's tattooed wedding band without talking about thEIR W E D D I N G. Who proposed? How? How long had they been dating? What was the ceremony like? Since Arthur isn't really religious and I don't /feel/ like Charles is either Can you tell that Charthur is my fave and I'll go down with this ship?

I’m having a rough night feller. Thanks for this!!

Arthur and Charles absolutely had one of those Gay™ moments where one of them starts to propose and the other is like “I was gonna propose!” like

They’ve been ddating three or four years, and they’d talk about it, once or twice; do they want to do the marriage thing, what it means to them, if it’s something they want or if just saying “always,” between the two of them, is enough… but I don’t think they ever decide on like a “yes, let’s.” Just an abstract “some day, yeah.”

So I think Charles waits until he’s finished law school, til he’s got his future locked down and is ready to start his life. He’s almost guaranteed a position, if he passes the bar, so he’s feeling pretty stable and ready to like… have a career and do the real grown up thing.

It’s at the like, party they have, after his graduation. It’s a little garden party, him and a couple of law school buddies all have a garden party, invite family and friends – of course Charles and his crew are the odd ones out, the rest of his friends have that family money – and it’s a nice, classy affair. Charles gets to wear a Nice Suit (the one Hosea tailored for him, cuz god be damned if any young man Hosea knows is gonna walk around wearing an ill-fitting suit), and Arthur dresses nice for the occasion too. Everyone’s there, I think ; John, maybe Javi, Dutch and Hosea, Tilly and Sadie (Tilly is a friend of Charles’s from his undergrad), Susan. Charles’s mom even flew in from Montana to watch him cross the stage.

And Charles has the ring in his pocket, he’s nervous as all fuck – knows Arthur will say yes, but wants this to be perfect… kinda wants to make Arthur cry, say something so touching Arthur cries!! He wants to!!

He’s also told like, everyone that Today is The Day, and they’re all playing it cool, though Dutch is SUPREMELY bad at playing it cool. He keeps like, winking at Charles every chance he gets and giving him thumbs up like “you got this 👍👍👍” and it’s like… jfc Dutch, fucking chill

So they’re hanging around, chatting, eating kosher hotdogs on artisanal gluten-free organic ancient grain buns (Beau’s dad hired the caterer and it’s the fanciest mediocre hotdog Charles has ever had in his life – Arthur’s disappointed that they hired catering cuz he fucking loves to grill), and Arthur is all like, “I’m gonna grab some more champagne, babe, you want some?” and Charles sees the perfect opportunity and he SNATCHES IT and is like “sure!”

And so Arthur turns, walks to the lil table and Charles gets down on his knee, has the little ring box in his hand, he’s fucking primed to strike, when Arthur turns around it’s fucking PROPOSAL TIME BABEYYY

When Arthur does turn around he kinda… jumps, a little, spills a little champagne, and then he’s… fucking laughing?? Laughing hard, like he can’t believe it, and Charles wasn’t expecting that at all… and Charles is like “Arthur Morgan –“

And Arthur is like “Shit!! Shit!!” and he’s still laughing and he gets on his knees, still holding both glasses of champagne, and holds one up for Charles to see and of course, of COURSE,

His cheese all fucking boyfriend stuck a ring in the champagne glass. Was gonna surprise Charles like that.

So then Charles starts laughing, and Arthur is laughing, and Arthur chugs the glass of champagne so he can get the ring, and Charles holds out one hand, and Arthur is like OH and so he chugs the OTHER glad of champagne so he can hold out HIS hand and they both slide the ring onto the others finger and then kind of just like… hold hands, and laugh, and press their foreheads together, and they don’t need to say anything, they just know, they’ve always known –

But then John (who has been dutifully filming the whole thing on his phone, like Arthur asked him to) is like “Well?? Say SOMETHING!”

So Charles goes “Will you –“ at the same time Arthur goes “Charles, I –“ and then they’re laughing again and mumble some nonsense no one can make out and then they kiss, and of course the whole fucking party stopped to watch and they clap and it’s embarrassing and stupid and fucking perfect…

The wedding ceremony itself is pretty low key. Dutch and Hosea are a pair of Old Queens, want something fancy and elaborate, but Charles and Arthur aren’t like that, and they’re not super religious, so they choose to have something secular and small and intimate, close family and friends only.

When Dutch n Hosea retired, they bought an acreage a couple hours outside the city (Dutch insists that land is the best form of capital to invest in or something idk) where they’ve got a couple horses n a lot of room, so that’s where they have the wedding. It’s the summer and the prairie grass is long and the chairs are mismatched, but that’s ok because it’s Charles and Arthur and everyone else they love and it’s perfect.

Of course Dutch and Hosea walk Arthur to the fuckin altar or whatever – Dutch wears red accents, Hosea wears blue, Arthur purple. It’s cute and cheesy and I love it?? Charles has a nice turquoisey pocket square and tie, and Tilly braids his hair for the occasion and he looks so fuckin sexy!!

A friend of Susan’s (Swanson!) officiates, John is Arthur’s best man and Tilly and Sadie are Charles’s maids of honour or whatever?? their vows are short but eloquent, and they agree – “Always.”

The reception is all food Susan and Arthur and Charles’s mom slaved over the day before, and they cut the cake with a fuckin tomahawk. I feel like they also do like, axe-throwing or something as like, a party game or whatever idk

At the end of the day, once the guests are all gone and it’s like 3am and they’re still a little tipsy, Arthur and Charles collapse into bed in one of the guest rooms and Christ, it’s been a long, stressful, nerve-wracking day, they don’t have the energy for wedding sex, they just wanna curl up and hold each other and go to sleep and –

And of course they can hear, real faintly through the walls, John and Javi in the next room, Javi all “quiet, flaquita, I know it’s your first time, you’ve been saving yourself for me, haven’t you? But you have to be quiet, that’s my good girl, love you so much… you’re so tight, darlin', we gotta go so, so slow – you feel that, how tight your virgin pussy is on me? My little bride, my little wife, my good girl, gonna cum in you, gonna make you mine, let your tight pussy milk –“

Arthur and Charles pass out in spite of the noise, and in the morning they wake up before the others and sit and have coffee together and are all “pass me the sugar, Mister Smith,” “It would be my pleasure, my darling husband.”

Arthur almost immediately starts calling Charles “the ol' ball-and-chain” and thinks it’s absolutely hilarious and Charles just rolls his eyes

Thanks for the ask, mister! It cheered me right up uwu

#the couch au

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thelastspeecher · 7 years

Text

It’s a Boy

Me: Has homework and no time to write fanfiction.

Me: Writes about Ford finding out he’s a dad in the Stay-at-Home Stan AU.

Ford sat in the living room of his twin’s house and flipped through his journal idly.

I can’t really expect Stan to leave. There’s no way he’d abandon his kids. Especially since Angie works full-time. He looked up at Angie, who was standing at the entrance of the kitchen, on the phone. Ford could hear splashes and chatter coming from the bathroom, where Stan was giving the girls their nightly bath.

“Jenny, are ya adjustin’ to things all right?” Angie asked. “I’ve told ya, Stan ‘n I can take the lil feller off yer hands fer as long as it takes to set things in order.” Ford looked back down at his journal.

I’ve already been here three days…when am I going to get back to Gravity Falls, and resolve this bullshit?

“Oh, did my ma tell ya ‘bout that? Yes, apparently Stan had an estranged twin, that he never told anyone in my fam’ly about, and that twin is the same person what hired Fidds to work up in Oregon! Ain’t that wild?” Ford shrunk back into the chair he was sitting in, well aware of the fact that Angie was looking directly at him. “Hmm? That’s how I found out, was meetin’ him, yes. Is he still here? I’m lookin’ at him right now. Really?” Angie covered the receiver with her hand. “Ford, Jenny’d like to talk to ya. She’s Fiddleford’s wife.”

“…Oh,” Ford mumbled. Angie pursed her lips.

“Get yourself over here, Stanford. It’s the least ya could do. Jenny don’t have her husband and Tate don’t have his father no more.” Ford nodded reluctantly and stood. He walked over to Angie. “Here he is.” Ford took the phone from her. He cleared his throat.

“Hello, Mrs. McGucket.”

“Stanford Pines.” The voice was smooth and soft, nothing like Fiddleford’s rather rough southern accent. “I’ve been wondering if I should reach out to you. But I decided to wait for a sign. You ending up at my sister-in-law’s house definitely qualifies.”

“Look, I’m sorry for what happened to Fiddleford, I-”

“This isn’t about my husband,” Jenny interrupted. Ford blinked. “It’s about Tate.”

“Y-your son?”

“Your son.” Ford’s heart stopped.

“I, uh, I think I misheard you or-”

“No, you didn’t,” Jenny said in a tired voice. “It’s something Fiddleford and I discussed before we even got engaged. The identity of his son’s other biological parent.”

“But I- it’s impossible for-”

“Tate’s a smart lil boy, with wild brown hair, blue eyes, and twelve fingers.” Ford’s blood ran cold. “He’s also a bit over six years old. Do you remember meeting Fiddleford roughly seven years ago?”

“Y-yes. I-”

“Here’s the thing. Tate is your son, Stanford. And now that his pa is out of the picture, you really need to step up. He needs a father figure in his life.”

“Stan is-”

“-his uncle,” Jenny finished. “Not his dad. No, that’s who you are.” Ford swallowed. “I was going to turn Angie down on her offer to have Tate stay, but if you’re there, well…”

“I’m not planning on staying long,” Ford said hurriedly.

“Then you take him with you when you leave. You’re going to be there for your son, Stanford.”

“I-”

“It was nice to meet you, even if it was just over the phone. Give it back to Angie, please? We’ve got to figure out how and when I’m dropping Tate off,” Jenny said pleasantly. Completely numb, Ford handed the phone back to Angie, who had been hovering nearby, trying to act casual.

“Hey there, Jenny,” Angie said cheerfully. “Oh, Tate is goin’ to visit after all? Why, sure! We’ll take good care of him.” Ford walked to the guest bedroom, completely empty. Stan found him sitting in the dark, staring at the wall, an hour later.

“Uh, Ford? What’s goin’ on?” Stan asked, turning on the light. Ford shook his head. Stan closed the door to the hallway and sat down next to Ford on the bed. “Did Jenny really tear ya a new one that bad?”

“She didn’t yell,” Ford said hoarsely. “She- she told me that Tate is my son.” Stan squinted at Ford for a few seconds.

“…What?”

“Stanley, I- I have a son that I didn’t even know about!”

“Tate is your…? Well, now the twelve fingers makes sense.” Ford didn’t say anything. “But holy fuck, Stanford. You’re knockin’ up your assistants?”

“I- Fiddleford wasn’t my assistant back then. Just a dear friend,” Ford said quietly. Stan scoffed.

“Sounds like he was a bit more than that.”

“I- I can’t do this. I’m not ready to be a father, to a child I didn’t even know about,” Ford whispered. He groaned and put his head in his hands. “This- this wasn’t a situation I ever expected to find myself in.”

“What, ‘cause you’re gay?”

“No, because I’m the responsible one.”

“Really?” Ford looked at Stan, startled by the venom in his twin’s tone. “You’re the responsible one? Ya knocked up your old college buddy, and didn’t talk to him in years. So ya never figured out that his son, your son had twelve fingers and was born nine months after you two knocked boots. You’re sittin’ in my damn guestroom, just across the hall from where my happy and healthy daughters are sleepin’, stewin’ over how you’re not ready to be a father, and ya can’t do this. But sure, you’re the responsible one.”

“Stanley, I didn’t mean it that way.”

“No, ya did,” Stan snapped. He took a steadying breath. “You didn’t think you’d be the one with a surprise kid. You thought it’d be me. Hell, that’s what I thought, too. But then I fuckin’ manned up. Which is what you need to do now.”

“I can’t.”

“Bullshit. I’m the dumb twin. I don’t know squat. But I figured out how to be a good dad. You, the fuckin’ genius, should be able to do it in half the time it took me.” Stan glared at Ford. “And ya don’t have a choice. Ford, do ya want your kid to have an absent father?”

“…No.”

“Then don’t let that happen. I’m sure you’ll be fine, and if ya need help, well, stayin’ at home and helpin’ with kids is in my job description. But seriously. Whether ya like it or not, you’re gonna be there for Tate. You have to. Understand?” Ford nodded silently. “Good.” Stan stood up and walked over to the door. He opened it, but just before leaving, turned back to Ford. “And Stanford?”

“Yeah?”

“Congrats.”

#Stanford Pines #Angie McGucket #Gravity Falls OC #Stanley Pines #Gravity Falls AU #my writing #my stuff #speecher speaks #I'll eventually assign this it's own tag but I have to critique my classmates' writing now #so I guess I'll do that later #oh and your reminder just bc I like telling people #if you like this AU a lot and are inspired to write something for it? GO FOR IT #Stay at Home Stan AU

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