#ANYWAY this is a long winded way of saying I never liked her and Dewey together and I AM mildly smug about it being shot down

[astro-b-o-y-d]

I will hate the plot twist of Webby being blood related to the Ducks until I die, but also I can’t pretend I’m not like...fine with any ships between her and the triplets being shot dead in the water as a result

[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars • 10

Pairings: Sirius Black x [F]Reader, Remus Lupin x [F]Reader Content: Language, possible errors, introducing more Marlene, unreliable narrative-ish Author’s notes: Ngl, I had to rush this one.

Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 9: One Hundred and Fifty Points

❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉

November rolled around signifying the start of the new Quidditch season. Inside the great hall was flooded with the smell of sausages and fried eggs along with the cheerful chatter of students looking forward to the first match.

Gryffindor and Slytherin were the first teams set to play and their relationship had never been so tense until now; even the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs who liked to join in on the playful raillery decided not to participate.

Whenever a Gryffindor was to pass by the Slytherin table to get to their respective seats or simply walk through the entrance, a hassle of insults and boos would follow and vice versa.

While both houses had their own tactics to mess with each other, the Slytherins had tactics that transpired off the pitch and were brought into daily life. It was a smart move, and some of the newer Gryffindor players allowed it to bother them even before stepping foot onto the field. The insults built over the past couple of years, largely because Gryffindor had yet to lose a single game since James joined the team a little over three years ago.

And since James was newly appointed captain, they were relentless.

In the days leading up to the match, whenever Y/N accompanied James through the halls, whispers of childish remarks like, “I bet Potty is going to go to the potty after Talkalot throws him off his broom,” and other insults follow him, varying from his abilities or his capability to lead his team to victory.

Despite the relentless jeers, James managed to take them in stride, constantly donning a bright smile. Not once had it wavered him or chilled his blood. If anything, he took it as a compliment and even bounced off of it with a witty response. A few times, he even repeated the insult, announcing it loud enough for everyone in the vicinity to hear before turning the joke on them.

But today, he finally cracked. Marlene, who joined the team last year as a chaser, was beyond ecstatic while James’ smile was non-existent. It was fairly evident to everyone who knew him that his smile and body language faked confidence in an attempt to mask nervousness.

As his first year as captain, James had an extreme burden on his shoulders. Stakes were at an all-time high to continue the three-year-long title holder of the Quidditch cup. He was under a constant microscope. Everyone was curious to see how James led his team. Not only did he have to prove his abilities as a leader but was also in jeopardy of staying captain for next year. His status depended on these games.

Additionally, the potential loss would be devastating. James was not the first pick as captain for this year. Charlie Bell, a seventh year, was supposed to take his place with James coaching the year after he left, but Bell stepped down, preferring to spend his time focusing on NEWT revisions. Although due to his time studying, Bell’s abilities were admittedly sloppy and began to worry James as he was not up to his standards.

Although in Y/N’s (biased) opinion, James had nothing to worry about.

He insisted on daily practices ever since try-outs were held in early September. It was even hard to catch Marlene who’d been James’ left-hand man of sorts. Today, the two players woke up bright and early in preparation for the first game. They woke up at six o’clock in the morning, to Marlene’s dismay, and went for a light jog and a quick exercise. The rest of the Gryffindor team was there and went over their ground plan again.

Y/N had seen a few of their practices to support them and bring any food incase they missed breakfast or dinner. James was absolutely merciful. Like any good captain, he listened and attended to the needs of his players, but he held Marlene’s opinion higher than the rest.

Rumours floated around the two and she was excited to see if they held true. Both players had become great partners and were almost unstoppable on the field. Because of this, it was highly anticipated that Gryffindor was going to win, especially with how gruelling James’ coaching methods were compared to former captains. Bets were placed ranging from Knuts, Sickles and Galleons.

Due to the overwhelming pressure, James was at a loss for words, for once. His anxiety spiked and the only person who could talk any sense into was Marlene; both sharing an odd, yet special bond.

Even in the days leading up, Mcgonagall, who she’d found out was very gifted and a huge fan of the sport, took notice of his unusual and quiet behaviour. McGonagall let loose, avoiding giving out homework for the week. She had even opted to avoid giving James any.

It was quite clear McGonagall had a soft spot for the marauders, often letting them do as they pleased while at harshest, taking away house points and sparingly handing them detentions. James, of course, had been using this to his advantage as he pleaded to give the entire Gryffindor team no homework using the famous ‘but we have practice!’ excuse.

When she arrived in the hall with Dorcas, the moment they walked through the entrance, the Slytherin table booed in their direction but was rivalled with a thunderous welcome from the Gryffindor table. Everyone in sight wore red and gold.

James had a vice-grip on Quidditch Through the Ages while in the other hand, tried but failed, to shovel potatoes in his mouth. Marlene sat on his left, reviewing several techniques they could use last minute that the Slytherins may not expect coming. They were already wearing their jerseys. Plastered on Marlene’s chest in bright yellow was the number 6 while James was 7. Their uniforms were identical aside from the pin on James’ shirt that caught everyone’s attention. A shiny new captain’s badge sitting proudly on his chest.

Both were talking to each other rapidly, barely registering their friends sitting down beside them.

“Don’t be thick,” said Marlene, “This is going to work. Stop second-guessing.”

“I’m mental. Abso-fucking-bloody-mental … What was I thinking?”

“Potter,” she scolds, “get it together. Now, in about an hour, we’re going to be walking on the pitch. We’ve practiced for hours — days even — much more than the Slytherins have. You were made captain for a reason and we have back-up plans. We’re beyond ready.”

He sighs, taking a deep inhale. “Okay… Okay.”

Within a few seconds, the air around him shifts and James' assertive and authoritative side takes over. “What were you suggesting earlier?”

“We have to go underneath and cut them off. Trust me, they won’t expect it.”

“Where do you want me?”

“What broom model do you have?”

“Nimbus 1984.”

Marlene scoffs, “Should’ve known, Mr. ‘Trust fund’ Potter. Anyway, yours is the fastest and newest — ought to be the first one to cut ‘em. Lead the way.”

James stops to ponder before bobbing his head in agreement, “Sounds good, but Bell?”

“— do you think he can do it?”

“Not sure. Maybe he will once the rush comes — no — we can use him as a decoy then.”

The sudden uproar of cheers and boos of both Gryffindors and Slytherins attempting to drown each other reached the table’s ears again, James looked down at his lap. Even Marlene’s leg started bouncing up and down.

Lily was about to make a harmless jab before Marlene’s eyes shot up to her, shaking her head warningly.

James was truly losing his shit inside and out.

“Mental,” he grumbles out. He barely registers his body move on its own accord. Marlene followed his lead, getting up with him before his attention was drawn back to everyone in front of him.

“You coming, right? Gotta see my moves,” James tries to joke, looking at Y/N.

“She better or I’ll drag her onto the field.” Marlene cuts in. Judging by the burning look in her eyes, Marlene was far from joking.

“Of course I will.” She then directs the next sentence mostly to James, “You’re going to crush them.”

A nod of approval comes from both players. Marlene’s chest puffs out from the praise, even going as far to dramatically flick her hair over her shoulder while James seems to relax considerably.

“Of course we are. You are talking to the King of Quidditch.”

“Hem hem — and queen!”

“My bad — and queen. We’re going to win.” It was nice seeing his arrogant side back.

“Pff— that’s not even a question,” Marlene says, “I’d rather fling my body off a tower if we lose this game.”

❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉

At eleven o’clock sharp, the entire school sat in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. From there, she could smell the fresh-cut grass, filling the air as cold steel filtered through her lungs. It was refreshing and tickled the inside of her nose. The seats were raised high, a warming charm placed on them, courtesy of Flitwick.

Flakes of dewey frost coated the field and stands. The wind howled as a few brooms whipped back and forth, checking to see if everything was in proper condition before the start of the game. Unfortunately for the players, stormy grey clouds were raised high and there was a high risk of rain or snow. It surely was going to make catching the Golden Snitch harder.

All the girls were there to support Marlene. Lily and Dorcas went all out and brought a huge poster. Streaks of red and gold were painted underneath their eyes as leftover gold tinsel from the Halloween party was woven into Lily’s hair. Many other students also held large signs, waving flags; even Y/N and Mary had binoculars secured around their necks.

A large lion was charmed onto the sign, moving back and forth before opening its mouth to roar. In bold letters, it read Gryffindor’s Weapon, McKinnon! Dorcas placed another charm on so the letters interchanged between red and gold, flashing similar to a new-maj diner sign.

Madam Hooch stood in the middle of the pitch. In a flash, the two teams came out, shouldering their brooms in a single file line from two hidden doors beneath the stands. At the front, the team’s respective captains led them to the middle. A deafening applause greeted them. Some players even waved back to the crowd for louder cheers.

A few rows down, sitting in the very front was Sirius and Peter, rapidly waving their arms around and cheering. Peter bent down, pulling up a sign that read Potter’s Preeminence . Even with the distance, Y/N could hear Sirius’ screaming. He wore a paper mache lion head while Peter wore the body of a lion.

‘YOU GOT THIS PRONGS! FUCKING CRUSH THEIR TINY LITTLE SNAKE BONES— LET’S GO GRYFFINDOR, LET’S GO WOOWOO!”

What caught her eye was Remus’ absence. She was under the impression that he and James were close friends, so surely he would have been there in support knowing that this game was immensely important to him.

Back on the field, the captains shook their hands. James’ head was held high, determined not to break eye contact first. However, the other captain simply smirked and leant in to whisper something in his ear before Hooch scolded her. When she pulled back, Y/N could hardly see James’ expression but she managed to catch a small glimpse.

He looked, well, she didn't know what his expression meant. Angry? Nervous? Annoyed?  

This was her cue, “DON’T LET THEM GET TO YOU JAMES!” She shouted so loud that it managed to travel down to him. Sirius’ head whipped back, even looking appreciative at her encouragement.

James managed to hear and his head perked up. His head swivelled towards her, his frown wiped off as his confidence returned. Behind him, Marlene looked up to the stands and Y/N, along with the other girls, shot her a thumbs up.

Madam Hooch continued to give her speech. James looked determined, his head tilting towards Marlene as they nodded to each other in encouragement. Y/N was unfamiliar with the rest of the Gryffindor and Slytherin players, but surprisingly, Regulus Black was standing there. Unlike the other warm brown and golden brooms, Regulus’s broom was black, accented with silver metal. An odd mark was engraved on the widest part of the base.

Due to the distance, it was hard to make out what was engraved or what position he played before Madam Hooch grabbed her silver whistle, which was comically too big.

“Mount your brooms,” she said, the entire crowd hearing. She lifted the whistle to her mouth and gave a loud blast. The game began.

Fifteen brooms flew high into the air. The clouds covering a couple of players passing by.

The announcer’s voice fills the air. “Anddd we’re off! Gryffindor’s newest captain, James Potter, 7, has the Quaffle and— he passes it to Charlie Bell, 2. This is his last year on the team so everyone give him a loud cheer— he sends the Quaffle back to Potter— and he passes it over to Marlene McKinnon, 6, and— no— the Slytherins swiped the Quaffle! Captain Emma Vanity, 21, flies away and she dives— she passes it to Rhys Calwald, also a seventh year— McKinnon comes back and takes it! She’s— a Gryffindor is down! Bell was hit by a Bludger and— he’s back up, perfectly fine— Potter is by the goalpost and blocks off the Slytherins, speeding up. Above, Phoebe Dawson, 1, joined as the Gryffindors newest seeker. She’s high in the clouds, neck and neck with Regulus Black, 8, Slytherin’s seeker and— there’s a clear shot to search for the Snitch. The Quaffle is taken by Bell and— Slytherin’s chaser takes it! Chaser Lucinda Talkalot, 4— their beater bats it away from an incoming Bludger— Talkalot is rounding on Gryffindor’s goalpost— she’s close, Vanity is there— she dives— she shoots— and… and— SLYTHERIN SCORES!”

Gryffindors groan while Slytherin cheers and wave their signs higher. A roar of claps goes around.

Now Lily is screaming, her hands are stretched out, waving her large sign above her head, blocking the unlucky students sitting behind her. “THAT WAS ONLY TEN POINTS! GET THEM MARLS— YES! LOOK AT THAT DIVE!”

Down below, Peter and Sirius are mirroring Lily. "IS THAT ALL YOU GOT POTTER?! COME ON WE KNOW YOU CAN GET EM! YOU'RE DOING AMAZING! FUCKING CRUSH THEM!"

Y/N grabbed her binoculars, bringing them to her eyes. Marlene was high up, open for James who had the Quaffle tucked under his arm. He does not look over to her, but rather looks at Bell before he throws it to her, his eyes still trained on Bell. Marlene catches it and from the trick James pulled, she has an extra few seconds before the Slytherins catch her. Marlene speeds away as a Bludger is directed at her. Luckily, one of Gryffindor’s beaters already flung it away as Charlie came rushing close to Marlene’s side, warding off any Slytherins as best as he could.

The commentator cuts in again. “Gryffindor is back in possession of the Quaffle. McKinnon and Bell are flying closer to the goalpost—Slytherin's keeper is standing tall at their net, Ashworth, 3— they’re speeding towards— look! It’s the Snitch!”

The two seeker’s heads shot up. A low murmur spreads through the crowd as they caught sight of a flash of gold. Only for a second, they saw the little ball, its wings fluttering madly before it disappeared back into the clouds.

Slytherin directs a Bludger towards Phoebes before Gryffindor’s beater comes rushing up to swat it away.

Gryffindor still is under the possession of the Quaffle. Marlene and Charlie have been passing it back and forth while James comes back around. His body is pressed close to his broom. He does a funny hand movement, signalling to the rest of the chasers before they swoop down suddenly. Everyone is confused and Charlie is flying in the opposite direction, some of the Slytherins follow him before Marlene passes the Quaffle at James and shoots.

"— GRYFFINDOR SCORES!"

Another round of cheers echoes through Gryffindor’s side. Lily’s clapping slowed. She wanted to show support for Marlene, her house, but not for James. As the Quaffle is sent back up to the air, James and Marlene high-five each other discreetly before returning to their positions.

The Slytherins rush back towards Gryffindors goalpost; they're zigzagging through the air, violent swishes to avoid chasers from cutting them off again.

"Slytherin's in possession. Vanity is on Talkalot's right— passes it to her— shots— misses! Talkalot gets another rebound—

Y/N's attention is drawn back to the seekers. A beater is rapidly swatting away Bludgers as Phoebe is neck and neck with Regulus. Her eyes are stuck through the binoculars.

All of the sudden, a Bludger collided hard with James' broom, so strongly that Y/N swore a chip of wood was knocked off. His broom vibrates hard but his grip is still secured tightly to prevent bucking off. The Bludger was so close to his face that for a split second everyone thought it might've broken his nose. The crowd was cheering on intently while Sirius and Peter screamed.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?"

"FOUL!" Madam Hooch yelled. Gryffindor gets a free score on Slytherins goalpost. Marlene is the one to score.

"NICE JOB MARLS!" Lily bellows. Her voice is high-pitched and cuts through the air loud enough that Marlene looks over and gives a thumbs up.

By now, Slytherin has scored eleven times while Gryffindor was merely in the lead by ten points. Slytherin was rapidly gaining on them. Vanity and Talkalot were great at their positions.

"Gryffindors in possession! Bell’s got the Quaff— a Bludger is coming towards Potter again—” The iron ball was barrelling towards him, again. A beater shouted, warning him before James zoomed across the field as fast as he could. A beater trailed after him and swatted it away, narrowly avoiding being hit.

James ducked as another Bludger was rocketed in his direction.

"— BLOCKED! YEAH, SCUMBAGS — Sorry McGonagall!— Bell is gaining on the Slytherins and aiming at Ashworth. McKinnon is seconds behind— the seekers spotted the Golden Snitch!"

There was an edge of panic that soared through everyone’s hearts as both of the seekers dived down so fast that the chasers and beaters had to move out of their way. It was neck and neck, both flattened to their broom and the crowd only saw the glimpse of golden sparkles. Both reached out their hands.

It was only then a Bludger hit the back of Phoebe's broom, similar to James, causing her to lunge forward and off her broom.

Both seekers were laid on the ground. Everyone peered at the crash worried about their safety before Regulus lifted his hand, waving it above his head.

"I got the Snitch!" Regulus pants out.

James came rushing down to his teammate's side to make sure they weren't badly injured. He screamed for Madam Hooch.

After careful deliberation, Hooch ultimately decided that Slytherin won, awarding them the extra one hundred and fifty points. Gryffindor lost by thirty points.

"That was an illegal Bludger attack!" Marlene says.

"What the fuck?! That's rubbish!" Sirius screamed. Mary, Lily, Dorcas and Y/N groaned with the rest of the Gryffindors. The Slytherins chanted, waving their banners around and screaming as the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws clapped.

“Bell shoulda been cap, what were they thinking, picking the so-called King of Quidditch!” The Slytherins sang.

James, while still upset at the ruling, was more upset at his team member’s pain. Nobody knew what happened, but James seemed to leave Phoebe's side once he knew she was okay and stormed off in the direction of Vanity. Marlene grabbed a hold of his uniform to pull him back.

“James, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” She seethes into his ear, "Don’t start muggle duelling!"

“Are you fucking joking?” He bits back, “I’m not going to hit a woman!”

“Then calm down now.”

Whatever it was, James felt himself cool down considerably as he looked to Marlene. “Right, sorry. Just wanted to talk some sense into her.”

“Dreadful temper you’ve got there Potter.” Vanity spits out. She walks up to him, a pitiful smile on her.

“You need to keep your beaters in check,” he spits. Sparks fly from his nose as he marches back to Phoebe. By now, Madam Pomfrey has her laid back on a stretcher. James helps her, picking up the other end and walking back through the hidden doors. The team shuddered, trailing after them.

❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉

It was a devastating blow for Gryffindor. Everywhere Y/N looked, angry or disappointed faces would pop up. The team themselves were dejected while the Slytherins have begun planning a party.In the halls, students that made bets disappointedly slapped money it into the palms of students. 

Nobody had seen James for hours. He’d left right after the game and all the marauders had disappeared, only reappearing for dinner. Only Sirius and Peter were at the table. 

“— We were so close,” said Marlene numbly. “It must have accounted for something, using an illegal move like that.”

“You did amazing, it’s not your fault.” Lily cuts in, patting her on the shoulder.

“Now Potter is going to be ruthless for the next practices.”

A roar of laughter came from the Slytherins, a song chanting from their lips.

“Potter can hardly score a goal, he almost plummeted on the floor! He calls himself the King of Quidditch, well we call him the second option! Bell shoulda been cap, what were they thinking, picking the so-called King of Quidditch!”

“Shut it!” Sirius yelled, “You cheated! Bunch of gits.”

“Knock it off!” Followed Peter.

“Potter can hardly score a goal, he almost plummeted on the floor!"

Marlene cringes, watching the scene play out. Her grip on her fork tightens that for a moment Y/N thought she would have shattered the metal pieces. “They already won, what more do they want? A bunch of ugly toads...”

“Just ignore them,” Dorcas says. Marlene looked back at her, smiling reassuringly but with effort.

“He calls himself the king of Quidditch, well we call him the second option!”

“I don’t even like him,” Lily says dully, “But this… this is just mean.”

“Bell shoulda been cap, what were they thinking, picking the so-called King of Quidditch!”  

No wonder James skipped dinner. Y/N turns her head to look at Sirius and Peter, both upset. A thought passes, perhaps it would be good to see how James was doing, but a small seed of doubt settled in her. If his best friends weren’t with him, then it probably would be better to leave him alone. But starving himself shouldn’t be the other option. As the Slytherins continued to sing, with teachers and prefects starting to get up to stop them, Y/N grabbed a nearby empty plate before piling on spaghetti and bread along with slipping a few utensils in her pockets. She excused herself, nodding to Marlene for comfort and slipping her way out effortlessly as teachers swamped the Slytherin table.

The common room was empty aside from James who was huddled up with his invisibility cloak, staring miserably out a window. Only his head was visible, the rest covering his body. It made her feel a bit queasy.

The fireplace crackled with every step she took. There were a few options Y/N could broach this situation,

She could walk around him like there were eggshells,

Or treat him normally.

She sat down beside him, a bit unsure, handing him his plate. His gaze moves to her, a quick smile flashes.

“Thanks.” He says, taking it from her. He ate in silence for a while, Y/N deciding to talk to fill the silence.

“I was thinking we should play exploding snaps-”

“Hey, look, “ he cuts off fast, nodding stiffly. His smile faded and a hard edge crept in his voice, “you don't have to try and cheer me up—”

“Relax, I’m not here to baby you. You’re doing that already.”

A small huff of amusement comes out, “Well then, mind if I play with you?”

“Of course!”

Whenever James won, and quite honestly he wasn’t the best, he’d make a small whooping sound. Even a few times she lost purposely so he would win.

That is until he spoke again, almost inaudible “You know… I care what people think of me- well certain people and I let them down today.”

“James, you didn’t.”

“I did —”

“Nobody is mad at you. If anything they’re mad at Madam Hooch.”

“Still,” he looked down embarrassed. “What are they saying about me down there?”

Her brain short-circuited for a moment; he would have to find out eventually. “They’re singing.”

“Great.” Although he didn’t look bothered, just annoyed. However, he gained a rush of enthusiasm with his next sentence, “Whatever, I’ll show them next year.” 

A few games later, James left before the swarm of students came back to the common room. Again, he covered himself with the cloak and disappeared into the hallway. The spring in his step was noticeably lighter.

[whoslaurapalmer]

so i never do this but i put a lot of thought into really specific details about the structure and scene layout of (the three-part folding mirror) and i really really really want to talk about it so here are some of my notes and some general commentary 

-the crux of the fic, at least the way i had envisioned it, is what vfd does to family, how it becomes biological family vs the family created by vfd

-what vfd did to specific families: -physically separated the calibans -morally separated the denouements and the snickets -somehow brought the anwhistles closer together

-in terms of ramona and olaf, ramona was there to stress the distinction of biological family vs. vfd family but also how they’re so inextricably intertwined with each other, and olaf, this is harder to tell bc he doesn’t have a point of view here, but olaf is scoping out potential candidates for his personal group of firestarters – his own sort of “family” (ramona bc she’s a duchess, ernest because he has a similar line of thought, josephine because her husband is working with the mushrooms, the white-faced women because, well they wind up in his troupe and I have very vague headcanons about how that happens)

-related; the reason frank asks olivia about miranda at the end is because, at that point in the fic, frank feels so terrible about what he said to ernest that he’s trying to reassure himself that his family is still okay because (dewey’s right) at least they’re together, compared to the calibans, who haven’t seen each other in years. it was one of the first ideas I had when I was jotting ideas down in april and it stuck with me the whole way through. I really wanted it in there. I went back and forth before I got to this plot, though, on whether or not frank or ernest would be the one asking it. but I think it fits frank. -(ahahahahahaha the kicker being that miranda really was at the party the whole time and olivia didn’t recognize her) -anyway 

-the parallels in the fic were: -the denouements start the fic together, and end the fic alone (by being honest about how they feel about each other) -the snickets start the fic relatively separated, and end the fic together (by being dishonest about what happened during the party) -the denouements start the fic by playing their game, and the snickets end the fic with theirs -frank is mistaken for ernest, ernest is mistaken for frank -frank pretends to be ernest on accident, ernest pretends to be frank on purpose -dewey has never slammed a door in his life; towards the end of the fic he slams the tray -i….think that’s all of them. I think

-character-wise, jacques and frank both see themselves as the people holding their families together; when in fact for the denouements, it’s dewey, which I think is clear in this, and for the snickets it’s lemony, which is less clear here? but definitely something I agree with -dewey and kit see themselves as the most ‘normal’, and they both have relatively solitary positions of acquiring information -ernest and lemony clearly both vibe on a ‘question vfd’ wavelength -i was also interested in kit and ernest, as siblings who feel stifled by an older/perceived older sibling, and dewey and lemony, who are sometimes unnecessarily protected by their siblings because they are the youngest/perceived youngest -this doesn’t show up in the fic bc olaf’s parents are still alive, but I thought ramona and olaf were also interesting foils re: reacting to their parent’s deaths

-some narration notes: -frank never refers to ernest and dewey as his brothers, except in the scene where he argues with ernest. because frank doesn’t necessarily see the split of biological family vs vfd family but has definitely swayed more to vfd family -ernest and dewey always refer to each other as brothers. -similarly, frank refers to the members of vfd as associates, most everyone else refers to them as friends. -ernest refers to vfd as strictly VFD because he’s distanced himself from it, while everyone else calls it ‘the organization’ -frank doesn’t swear even in his narration when he’s thinking them and not saying them because it’s, still his narration. he still wouldn’t quite completely say the words. (oh, he’s like gansey, like that. the raven cycle is still on my brain. i had so many scene sketches where ernest and frank were way too callous to each other bc they kept coming out like ronan and declan.)  -kit’s line at the beginning is “someone in this very room has betrayed us” which is jacques’s line from the building committee meeting in unauto. the clock saying wrong afterwards is because the someone who really betrayed them (lemony) isn’t in the room. 

-the costumes, which i did decide very arbitrarily: monty: clearly a snake. olaf: sigh. wolf ramona and olivia: oh, there was actually a slight distinction that just no one notices because none of them have looked at an insect (and also because describing clothes properly but succinctly is the hardest thing. i've written fic for a long time!!!!! i did my time in block paragraph clothing description hell!!! it haunts me!!!!!!!!!!), but ramona was the butterfly and olivia was actually a dragonfly. their masks are roses because, well 1) I thought that would be cool 2) butterflies and dragonflies land on flowers…. jacques: the boxwood, but a lion otherwise. josephine: ocean widdershins: the octopus with the pirate hat jacquelyn: the gold star suit (because gustav said she should do it for a play on. star. like. actress star.) miranda: uranus’s moon named miranda. it was very vague and I put that in the fic before I decided to have her in the little scene with esme. and then i thought i would put her in that scene too. gustav: phantom of the opera.  haruki: tree frog hector: tree (not because of haruki’s costume but because i literally could not think of a damn thing for hector to be) lemony: uhhhhhh I had vague ideas he was. a cloud or something. like a stormcloud???? couldn’t pan out though. I like him in grey anyway. kit: I really just wanted her in red. with a big cape. and i spent so much time mentally deciding if i wanted her to have glasses or not in the archives that i forgot to mention her mask. everyone has one i swear to god  white faced women: did anyone recognize that was them? :) it’s not mentioned in any way at all but in my head they were all dressed identically as flappers

esme actually doesn’t have one, because I, forgot, to give her one. I’m taking suggestions. 

-references to lyeekha’s fics: -“that which is essential is invisible to the eye” is what frank says to jacques at the end of edge, and also the title of their snicket/denouement series  -it initially wasn’t in there, because I was worried it wasn’t, like, in the right tone, re: what happens in edge vs how I was interpreting jacques and frank? but i liked it a lot. so i put it back in.  -“frank quit smoking, but you didn’t” is a reference to frank smoking at the end of rigged  -guess the guest and the clock alcove are from the end of fragments, with dewey and ernest watching hotel guests. this is my favorite thing in the whole world and something i actually keep forgetting is not canon because it is SUCH the perfect beethoven parallel  -kit’s tattoo, which I was specifically imagining as the giant bombinating beast tattoo from ink on her back, which is definitely not around her neck but that was the only spot of skin she was showing so it was available and my thought was, it was kind of a low-cut in the back dress, and she was wearing the cape to cover up the giant tattoo on her back because beatrice was not there to cover it up with makeup (also bea picked out the dress.) (bea: if I can’t be there you have to make a statement) (kit: I have to what) -lemony being a “powerful, mythical figure” to the sugar bowl gen was actually something I wrote a long time ago, back in 2013, and I put it in the fic because I thought it fit, and then happened to reread double edged VERY late into the rewriting, literally THE DAY after I wrote that line in, and i saw a similar line of thought, and I was like “*cooper voice* sometimes you just get lucky ~ ” -jacques being in a lion costume, from the masquerade outfit sketches

additionally – -yes I am still cackling about ‘angel of my apple’ -angel of my apple -ANGEL OF MY APPLE  -writing olaf is constantly like, he can say the funniest fucking things. and then turn around and say the absolute cruelest shit and the balance can be difficult.  -but, angel of my a p p l e 

-i can’t believe that out of all the people here, frank and jacques are the ones having the most semi-successful romantic relationship. well, ramona and olivia, too, but frank and jacques actually kiss so good for them -i know it was very vague and it’s because writing romance is physically embarrassing, but yes that last line was supposed to be them kissing, i’m so sorry 

-undercover underwater was a last-minute addition because I didn’t want to take the time to try and google something real and good because I didn’t have the time. my guilty pleasure is super shitty hallmark murder mystery movies (I like good murder mysteries as well, thank you.) and my mom’s been reading terrible murder mysteries during lunch (where I was sitting across from her, also eating lunch, but also hiding behind my laptop and writing the fic) so I just came up with undercover underwater on the spot, but my mom came up with the tagline. it was originally ‘sleeps with the fishes’ (especially because i love the godfather movies which also, clearly has a very big stress on family vs The Family) but I thought ‘diving for the truth’ was funnier. -my mom and my brother (who has no interest in shitty murder mysteries, but loves to verbally smack them down with me re: their predictable tropes) and I decided that the plotline was something like, single woman scuba dives and keeps running into stuff (you know, hidden treasure, dead bodies, the like); her love interest drives the boat; her overbearing family member is an aunt; this is definitely like, book four in the series. there’s probably twelve books or something. (she goes on vacation on like book six and still finds a dead body, come on it practically writes itself.) (she probably owns a little fish tank......it’s a small sunny beach town.........etc etc.........) (it’s so easy to do this.)  -oh, fixer upper is the worst hallmark murder mystery series, murder she baked is the best. in my opinion. 

-dewey and lemony were supposed to have an actual conversation at the hors d’oeuvres table but every time I tried to put lemony in earlier he just wouldn’t work. it didn’t feel right. so he got saved for the reveal. -but i’m still delighted by the idea of lemony literally doing the shot of gazpacho.  -dewey uses a spoon because he doesn’t have the composure or the guts to do a shot of cold soup  -lemony was also supposed to have a scene with kit and one with jacques, i’m pretty sure, to lead up to the gazpacho conversation and the commiserating re: siblings. but again, didn’t work out. so then dewey had to fare alone in the scene. -oh!! the line about how lemony hides, in the least likely places, was actually something that was in my initial write of lemony’s scrapped pov of my ellington fic. jacques being responsible for sending olivia to the hinterlands was from a scrapped jacques fic.  -steal from your unused fic. 

-because I had to take scenes with lemony out, I had some, gaps in the night that I had to fill in (especially because this is a party more people are there than the snickets and the denouements), so that was how esme, the herpetology squad, and olaf and josephine came to be. (also olaf needed to show up again somewhere else otherwise he kind of, disappeared awkwardly, I thought?) -also because initially there was going to be a scene of bea and bertrand, elsewhere, but I wanted to keep the fic contained to the hotel, because one of the ideas I wasn’t able to put into the fic all that much was the sense of the hotel being its own world -oh, bea and bertrand don’t know that lemony used them as cover. the assignment they were working on instead of being at the party? planning the opera. the scene would’ve come right after ramona and olaf’s conversation. -the herpetology squad not only serves to highlight that people can’t tell the denouements apart (part of the foreshadowing that ernest would pretend to be frank), but was also me roasting myself because writing like a million different characters I had never written like this before had me very concerned about if their characterization was consistent, specifically for kit. (specifically, her with dewey.) also defining a character down to one base trait can be helpful when writing and creating characters, but for people no it’s not ideal. -haruki’s estimation of the denouement’s traits were not how i was mentally keeping track of them, because i definitely do do the ‘one base trait’ sometimes, but i had a lot more going on when i was thinking of them -but yes dewey is kind. in the way that bertrand is kind, but bertrand’s like, way more smooth about it. 

-lemony does not have his own pov because, for me personally, I can’t fathom writing him in any other way besides first person, and it just would not do to have one scene out of the whole fic not in third person. unless he was secretly narrating each scene, which, he clearly was not. i would’ve had to do it in a whole different style. 

-i love that dewey and kit are like ‘ahaha we’re the normal ones though’ and their normal conversation is them literally going ‘hey these creepy fish are AWESOME THOUGH’ -i looked at so many fish. for hours.  -ALL BECAUSE I came up with the phrase ‘oceanic intrigue’ as a fun phrase and decided I had to commit my soul to it and never look back. -oh, the fairy shrimp are really very cute though. and i think the cookiecutter shark is, fucked up but a neat little guy. 

-i’m eternally going to be laughing about this too  kit: where the fuck is frank frank: /three floors down, making out with jacques

-oh!! 40-49 is unassigned in the dewey decimal system (which I googled. many, many times.), and was previously biographies. there’s another section for biographies now, but because biography was the closest I could come to like, some sort of, identity category, I thought it was more fitting if it was the section that used to be biography but was now as blank as frank felt.

-dewey is the one responsible for the clock sounding like it does. he just thinks ‘wrong’ is a fun word. that, and frank recognizing jacques by sound, were from my earlier scene sketches for this when i thought this fic was going to be much, much shorter. 

[waveypedia]

Home is Wherever I’m With You [HDLW Sibling Week]

Day 1 - Adventure

Ao3

“You guys are gonna love this one!” Webby crowed, her face pressed against the glass of the plane window. “Della and I have crafted the perfect adventure. It’s full of traps, puzzles, and opportunities for daring stunts!”

“So what’s in store for us today?” Dewey called from the pilot seat. It was his first adventure as a solo pilot, even though he’d been taking lessons from Launchpad and Della for months. “Death-defying stunts? Villanous curses? Bad baddies?”

Webby grinned back at him enthusiastically. “We might see a sword horse!!”

Huey flipped through his Junior Woodchuck Guidebook. “Statistically, the chances of us encountering a unicorn are little to none. From our travels, unicorns mostly reside in glades deep in forests. We’re flying over the tundra.”

Dewey pulled a hand off one of the Sunchaser’s contraptions to gently punch Huey in the shoulder. “Look at you, calculating the likelihood of a unicorn spotting. Nerd.”

Huey rolled his eyes and shut the guidebook. He leaned back in the copilot’s seat, where he was keeping a careful watch that everything was running smoothly - just like Donald when Dewey piloted solo during full-family adventures. “The numbers don’t lie.”

“But did you take snow sword-horses into account?” Webby asked, finally turning her attention away from their descent to look at Huey. “They’re incredibly rare, but they live solo lives out here in the tundra. They canter at the speed of the wind!! Some brave adventurers report sighting one, but no one can ever get proof.”

“Sounds like a glorified Bigfoot,” Louie offered from his place in one of the Sunchaser’s seats. 

“But we can fight it!!” Webby interjected enthusiastically. “And earn its trust!! They say if you do, it’ll grant you one piece of sage advice for your future.”

Dewey frowned thoughtfully. “Well, not many people can say they’ve been granted advice from a snow unicorn. Anyway, coming in hot!!”

The Sunchaser made a less-than-graceful landing (Launchpad was his teacher, all right), sending snow flying up in clouds of soft sparkles around them. The four kids grabbed their gear and buckled up the last of their snow-protective clothes before stepping out of the plane and onto the snow. Webby was first, and her eyes sparkled with excitement as she took in the terrain for a moment.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Webby exclaimed, gesturing to the expanse of snow sparkling brightly in the sunlight. “And to think! Today, we’ll be one of the first to see and conquer a real snow sword-horse!!”

Louie slipped a canteen out of his pack and took a sip of some hot chocolate he had saved. “Yep, looks pretty snow-y.”

Dewey punched a fist in the air. “I’m ready to fight a unicorn!!”

Huey snorted affectionately and pulled out his rusty, trusty compass, emblazoned with the Junior Woodchuck logo on the side. “We go north first, right Webby?”

Webby opened her backpack and took out a slightly torn map, tied with a piece of glittery pink string. She was nodding before she’d even unfurled the map, but it confirmed her answer. “Yep!! We go left until we hit the rock shaped auspiciously like a tornado, and then we turn right. And then, when we get to the lone pine tree hidden behind the stone hills, we walk in a circle three times around it and follow the sun!”

Huey frowned. “A rock shaped like a tornado? That’s an… interesting description.”

Louie raised his head to the sky and covered his forehead with his hand to block out the blindingly bright light, reflecting off the snow and clouds. “Uhh, Webs, we can’t see the sun.”

Webby shrugged, positive as ever. “No worries! All the legends say that won’t be an obstacle. We’ll figure it out when we get there!!”

Without further ado, the pink-adorned duck strode off in the direction of their adventure. “Let’s go!!”

Dewey followed quickly behind her, rambling excitedly about how fun it would be to fight a unicorn. Huey and Louie exchanged a glance and a shrug, and then tagged along.

As they walked, Huey tried to start off a round of some of the hiking songs he had picked up at the Junior Woodchucks, but was quickly rebuffed. However, when Dewey tried to start a rendition of “1,000 Bottles of Apple Juice on the Wall” (the Uncle Donald-approved version he regretted teaching Dewey when they were on a road trip when the boys were five years old), Webby and Louie were suddenly much more enthusiastic about Huey’s options. He was more than happy to oblige, and even got them going on some sea shanties when the tunes started getting overly repetitive. Dewey grumbled for a bit, but before long, Huey and Webby’s collective, contagious enthusiasm had infected him, and he was singing along as loudly and proudly as the rest of them.

When the tornado-shaped rock first came into sight, the group of four was lagging behind Huey’s precisely-calculated pace for the best optimal productivity on adventures. But the sight spurred Webby’s already-high excitement, and she nearly sprinted the rest of the way. 

When the rest of the group reached Tornado Rock, panting, Webby was leaning against it with barely contained enthusiasm. “Took you long enough,” she said cheekily, but with no malice and a beaming smile. 

Louie shrugged and flopped down on the ground. “Ugh, Webs, why’d you have to run? There’s no time limit.”

Webby shrugged, still beaming. “The spirit of adventure!” She checked her watch and sat gently on the ground next to Louie. “So, lunchtime?”

Dewey plopped down beside her, and Huey followed suit. “I thought you’d never ask!!”

Louie rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, we know, you were flying the plane, you didn’t get a chance to snack.”

Dewey ripped open his lunchbox and grabbed impatiently at the first thing he could - a sandwich. He opened the foil easily and stuffed it in his mouth. “I’m hungry, Louie!”

As his brothers squabbled in the background, Huey glanced up at the rock towering above them. “Huh, I guess it really is actually shaped like a tornado,” he conceded quietly as he unpacked his lunch. “Accurate description.”

Webby followed his gaze, tracing the grooves and cracks in the rock with her eyes. “Yeah. You know, Isabella Finch, Uncle Scrooge’s inspiration, was the one who named it!!”

Huey perked up. “Really? That’s interesting. I don’t think I remember an expedition to this specific tundra in her journals.”

Webby shrugged, smiling. “It was a group expedition with some other seasoned adventurers. George Mallardy, for one.”

“The guy that Uncle Scrooge sort of was responsible for his death?” Huey asked apprehensively, raising his eyebrows. “I’m not entirely sure I want to be following in his footsteps.”

“But they’re the only other people to accurately depict and record tundra sword-horses!!” Webby exclaimed, leaning forward. “Wouldn’t it be so cool if us, for our first solo adventure, were the ones to do it second?”

“I’d rather be first!!” Dewey called. 

Huey shrugged. “I guess so. I am curious about snow unicorns. If there’s only one depiction of them, even if it is from Isabella Finch, how do we know it’s accurate?”

“I guess we’ll have to find out,” Webby replied, her eyes sparkling.

The kids packed up their lunch, making sure to leave no trace behind, and continued on their trek. Webby tracked their progress with a map, watching carefully for the hills of stone that would eventually rise out of the fog. Snow started to fall gently while they walked, and Dewey made it a game to see who could catch the most snowflakes on their tongue. Soon they were all running in uneven paths and laughing - or laughing as best they could with their tongues stuck out. By the time the first gray hints of the stone hills crested out of the clouds, Louie was winning staunchly, but Dewey refused to be beat. He nearly fell forward into a snowbank, but stubbornly kept going.

Their amicable chatter died down as the hills came close enough to touch - and Webby did touch, reaching out a purple-gloved hand to wipe away a few errant flakes of snow. The group paused, speechless at the sheer size and gentleness of the rolling hills.

Webby took in a deep breath, in and out, making a large cloud of breath in the cold air. “Snow sword-horses, Isabella Finch’s legacy, here we come.”

With Webby in the lead, the four ducks rounded the hills and finally made their way into the small clearing in the middle of the stone. And found…

“Nothing,” Webby said, her word hanging in the quiet air. Surprise and disappointment were etched across her face as she stared at the empty clearing.

Huey, ever the Dad Friend, snapped out of his stupor first and stepped forward to lay a hand on Webby’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. Maybe we made a mistake.”

“Yeah, a mistake,” Louie echoed. “It was probably George Mallardy. He almost caused our uncle’s death. Can’t really trust that guy.”

“Maybe the sword horse is still around here somewhere,” Dewey added.

Webby pressed her beak tightly together. “Yeah, you’re right! Let’s keep looking.”

They scoured the clearing for any hidden passages. Huey analyzed the map carefully, looking for any possible errors or misleads. Dewey took it upon himself to rap each and every inch of the stone hills, looking for a secret passage. Louie walked in circles around the hills, looking for any other landmarks.

After an hour had passed of searching with no luck, the group reunited in the center of the clearing, where the pine tree would be. 

“Any luck?” Huey asked grimly, already knowing in his gut what the answer would be.

Louie shook his head regretfully.

“No,” Dewey muttered, the disappointment clear on his face.

Webby rubbed her toe anxiously against the snowy ground. She opened her mouth, clearly unhappy, and then froze, surprise overtaking her features.

“Webby?” Louie asked cautiously, but she ignored him in favor of leaning down and brushing snow away from a certain spot on the ground. Her brothers stared, frozen, for a moment. But when a splash of dark green peeked out from the snow, Dewey instantly dropped down into a crouch to help her. Huey and Louie followed suit in realization, and in no time they had cleared a little patch of snow away, revealing a tiny pine tree sprout.

“Huh,” Dewey said, breaking the tentative silence that had lain between the four of them while they dug. “I did not expect this.”

“It’s only a baby,” Webby breathed.

Louie frowned. “That’s weird. Isabella Finch and George Mallardy probably came here like a century ago. How could the tree be only a sapling?”

“Maybe it got cut down and replanted,” Huey reasoned logically.

“Or maybe it’s like a phoenix,” Webby breathed, the corners of her beak turning up. “It’ll come back! 

Dewey smiled. “It already is.”

Huey stood up, and held out a hand for his siblings. “We should get back to the plane. Maybe back at home we can do more research on magical pine trees and mystical tundras.”

Webby smiled softly and pushed herself to her feet, the last out of the four of them. “I’d like that.”

She unfurled the map again, and they trekked back to the plane, a little subdued but still energetic. Despite this branch of their adventure being mostly complete, their return seemed to go by in a blink. Soon they were boarding the plane and shedding their snow gear. Dewey settled into the pilot seat and, after a moderately smooth takeoff, they were in the air.

After about a half an hour of flipping through his Junior Woodchuck Guidebook, Huey slipped out of the copilot’s chair and made his way over to Louie and Webby. Louie was scrolling through something on his phone, and Webby was reading one of the books Scrooge had given her for her birthday. Darkwing Duck was playing idly on the Sunchaser’s tenuously supported TV in the background, but neither were paying attention to it.

“Look at this,” Huey announced, sliding into the seat next to Webby and holding out his book. It was open to one of the pages about plants and fauna. Huey tapped a small paragraph in the corner with his finger, and Louie and Webby leaned in to read.

“Longer-living plants, like redwoods, go through many stages in their lives, many of which last long periods of time,” Louie read aloud. He glanced at Huey. “That’s purposefully vague. I don’t think it relates to the pine tree.”

Huey’s eyes glinted, like they always did when he got excited about a research project. “Maybe it’s purposefully vague. Either way, it’s a good starting point for an investigation!” 

He smiled. “We may uncover the mystery behind this pine tree and the unicorn just yet.”

Louie typed in a search on his phone. “Heck yeah we will. Ducks don’t back down, remember?”

Webby tucked a colorful bookmark in her book and set it on the chair beside her. “You’re right.” She pulled out her own phone and started to search too.

“This adventure is looking to be bigger than ever!!”

~

hi this is very messy n bad cause i wrote it in an hour but i also have a lot of other big projects goin on (i’m writing the script for an instaronpa!) but i don’t usually have the motivation/time to do events like these. i’m going to try to do a little bit each day, so the parts will be shorter than what i usually write, but hopefully there will be 7 of them!! what i did was i set a timer for 30 minutes and tried to do just that, but i was only halfway done so i kept going. idk if i’ll have the motivation to keep doing that though

anyway i think this is gonna be like a connected story btw. all the more pressure to finish it ahaha. i hc that in this story, they’re all a little older, like teenagers (hence why they’re on an adventure by themselves). there’s one comic where dewey really wants to learn how to fly, so i snatched that headcanon when i realized if they’re on their own, they need a pilot. i considered briefly having Launchpad fly them in and not go, but I like Dewey flying. The whole “Webby planning an adventure” shtick is a brief nod to a couple lines from my group chat fic, where Della inspires Webby to plan an adventure. Since that happens when they’re at their canon ages, this isn’t the adventure they’re talking about. it’s just my inspiration.

title is a lyric from Home by Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeroes. (two for two on using secular songs I sung at camp last year for fic titles haha)

see you tomorrow for the next installment of Home is Wherever I’m With You!

@hdlwsiblingweek2020

[deathtrapnest]

Waves That Pulled You Under

fandom: One Piece pairing: Luffy x Nami  notes: -Takes place after Usopp joins but before Baratie arc. summary: Nami watches him atop Merry’s figurehead from afar and thinks that the sea might reach up to take him, to swallow him and carry him away. And then one day it does.

READ ON AO3

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Luffy had chosen his favorite spot on the Going Merry the first day they'd set sail- sitting perched on top of the figurehead, balanced precariously over the water- nothing but an unobstructed view of sea and sky stretching out endlessly in front of him.

Nami has yet to meet a Devil Fruit user so unafraid of the sea as Luffy. It should come as no surprise- she has yet to find anything that Luffy is afraid of. Nami isn’t afraid of the sea but she knows better than to disrespect it. She knows that like her captain, Luffy, that the sea has no sense of boundaries, is beholden to no logic or reason. And like her other captain, Arlong, it has no mercy and it can take and take indefinitely.

Nami watches him atop Merry’s head from afar and thinks that the sea might reach up to take him, to swallow him and carry him away. And then one day it does.

It’s an afternoon where the horizon is endless on all sides of the ship, with no island expected to appear for days to come. The skies are muted, there’s a stillness in the air, but Nami is a navigator, she knows that stillness on the sea is always a lie. Luffy, too, on the figurehead, looks momentarily still and calm but she knows that won’t last either. Nami can predict the weather. She’s given up on trying to predict Luffy.

Merry rides on the ocean’s back, creaking gently as waves crawl up her sides and then retreat like living things. Nami stands at the balcony of the quarter deck.

With his back to her she sees where his hair is getting long, tangled at the nape of his neck. And thinks, if it will be up to her to cut it, at some point. Like how it has fallen to her to cook the crew’s meals and sew shut the holes in Luffy’s hat. Strange, intimate, tasks of care that she’s never performed for anyone but herself before.

Sometimes he turns his head slightly and she gets a glimpse of the sickle shaped scar on his cheek; of the nearly serene expression he wears sometimes when he thinks no one is around to witness it.

Occasionally a breeze blows over the water and the hat on his head twitches at the edges- a tease, like the wind is reminding him how easily it can blow his treasure away. It makes Nami nervous but Luffy never seems to notice. She wonders if he’s never had anything taken away from him, if that’s how he can stay so self assured. If all the important things she’s had taken from her are why she can never seem to relax. The hat keeps its place even when he doesn’t reach up to hold it down.

But no one stays on luck’s good side forever.

She’s looking down at her map, and then when she looks up, he’s gone.

There’s not even a tell tale splash of him hitting the water. The sky hasn’t changed, the sea still, and yet his seat is empty.

Nami is paralyzed. Her throat too tight to even call for help from Usopp or Zoro who are below deck and out of earshot anyway. She drops the map she’s holding and runs toward the bow but she’s pulling off her shoes with one hand already as she goes. Before she has time to think she’s diving in over the edge.

The water she plunges into is cold, silent, breathless.

There’s enough sunlight cutting through from the surface to make out his silhouette as she pulls herself further down, to where the sea is wine dark and heavy.

In the water, everything is dyed indigo, and Luffy is suspended in it like a bug in amber, motionless and limp, though his hair and clothes move without gravity, his hair a dark, swirling, crown obscuring his eyes, his shirt a flag of color in the dark, floating in an almost imperceptible current, trying to pull away from the anchor its attached to.

Nami’s hand seeks his, she pulls at slippery, icy, fingers. But he’s heavy as lead, continuing to sink further like someone is deep below him, pulling him down by his feet. The ocean laying claim to him, taking revenge on its would-be king.

Her arms encircle his waist and she pumps with her legs, eyes on the twinkle of sunlight above their heads. Luffy is so heavy. And cold.

Nami isn’t a hero. She’s scared. And angry. The muscles in her legs burn and her chest aches from holding her breath. But she can’t stop thinking, again and again, “if I hadn’t been here, he would be dead right now. He would be dead right now.” And the image of Luffy lifeless at the floor of the ocean is unbearable. He’s supposed to be the one with all the luck.

When she reaches the surface she gasps for breath so deeply that her head falls under again, her legs forgetting to swim, she inhales water deep up her nose, chokes. She rights herself and pulls Luffy’s head up next to her by his hair, his mouth falling open, though she can’t hear him taking in any air.

She turns toward the ship and sees that on the surface of the waves, the straw hat is bobbing, only a few feet away. Luffy had been taken from the safety of his favorite spot on the figurehead, the hat had been taken from the safety of its favorite spot on his head, and looked lost without him, lonely, even. Nami uses one arm to pull herself closer to the ship, the other arm holding Luffy up, and before ascending the rope ladder, she considers the hat, and she thinks about leaving it to float away. Just for a half a second, she thinks about it. Just to see what would happen. To see what he’d do. But she’s done a lot of cruel things in her life already, and she’s trying to do less. She adjusts her grip on Luffy’s waist and reaches out to grab the hat.

She drops Luffy without ceremony on the deck of the ship and his head flops to the side lifelessly, his face ghost pale all the way down to his lips. Motionless in a way that couldn’t be mistaken for sleep. Nami can barely catch her own breath, there’s water in her sinuses and she’s shivering but she bends over his body, pressing her ear to his mouth. She can’t hear his breathing, even as the wetness of his lower lip brushes the shell of her ear. All she can hear is the ocean lapping against the side of the boat, reaching to reclaim the prize she’d deprived it of.

All she can hear is her own desperate gasps of breath, wracking her body, like sobs. Like them.

“Dammit…”

She intertwines her hands and places them over his ribcage, and begins compressing them against him, digging her palms in and trying to keep the rhythm steady even as her hands shake and water drips from her hair in cold rivulets down her back. Soaked through to the skin, Luffy’s shirt is the color of a dried bloodstain.

“C’mon… C’mon… C’mon…” with every compression.

She stops, swiping her hair out of her eyes, lifts up Luffy’s chin and pinches his nose. His lips are cold and salty to taste, yielding under hers as she breathes into him. She comes up for air, inhales as deeply as she can, tips his head back by the hair this time, fingers curling against wet strands at the nape of his neck, wrings it into her fist until sea water drips past her knuckles and over her wrist. She clamps her eyes shut and she tries to teach him how to breathe again. To remember how to live again.

It’s the third breath, he makes a gurgling noise and his body begins thrashing against hers. She lets go and he flops onto his side, choking up brine onto the deck and coughing water out of his lungs.

Predictably, the first thing he does when he catches his breath is touch the top of his head, feeling for his hat, then turns to see it laid next to him. He doesn’t even shake the water from his hair before putting it back on his head and flashing a wide grin to Nami and letting out a hoarse laugh.

“That was close!” His voice scratchy from choking.

“Don’t laugh. It isn’t funny.” Nami says coldly.

“I’m relieved to be alive.” He leans his head back, taking long, grateful, gulps of air.

Nami glares at him.

“How stupid would you feel? Losing your dream like that? Before you even get to the Grand Line?” She bites out. But he looks back at her serenely. Water drips from the brim of his hat onto his face, clumping his eyelashes together, dark and dewey.

“But you saved me.”

He says as if it had always been a certainty. And there was nothing to worry about. In the world. Ever. That makes her furious.

“What if I’m not around next time, dammit?!” her voice rises and cracks and she remembers that she’s out of breath too.

Luffy fixes her with one of those solemn looks he only saves for rare occasions. Luffy can veer from clueless to penetrating faster than an ocean gale.

“Why wouldn’t you be around?” he asks.

She shivers, her clothes cold and clinging to her skin. The tattoo on her arm. She wonders if he can see it through the white of her wet shirt. Sometimes it feels like it itches, now it feels like a sunburn. She turns, wrings the water out of her skirt.

“I’m not going anywhere.” She mutters. She lies. It’s a well rehearsed lie, but it doesn’t come out as easily as it usually does. For some reason the look on Luffy’s face makes her think he doesn’t believe it. But he smiles back at her anyway.

She looks away from him, toward the horizon. “Next time… Get one of the others to save your ass… It can be someone else’s problem if you die on them.”

Luffy gets back on Merry’s head because he never learns. He closes his eyes and folds his arms behind his head, letting the breeze dry him. She doesn’t waste her breath scolding him. There’s some things she’ll never learn either.

A storm comes that night. Just like she’d thought it would. The rain beats steady as a drum at the circular porthole windows of the dining room after dinner.

“You need a haircut.” Nami observes. And leads Luffy back to her bedroom, away from the noise and laughter of the others. Where it’s silent except for the faint growl of thunder, the waves battering the sides of the ship.

She lights a candle. Shadows cross Luffy’s unsmiling face and he looks so different than he does in the sunlight that for a moment it takes Nami aback. He’s a man. Not just a boy.

She kisses him. His lips are warm now, more dry, but she runs the tip of her tongue just faintly against his lower lip and imagines she can still taste the sea on it. Luffy lets her, not closing his eyes, until she pulls away and he blinks at her with a face devoid of curiosity or surprise.

“What was that about?” he says.

Nami huffs a laugh. “You wouldn’t understand.”

His eyebrows knit together and he sticks his lip out petulantly. “I understand plenty.”

This time, he initiates. Clumsily, brief, his teeth a hard wall she feels the press of behind the softness of his mouth. He straightens up, unabashed by the display and waiting for her rapport.

She remembers abruptly sometimes, he’s really not much younger than her. She feels like she’s been alive for a hundred years. She wonders how many hundreds of years he’s been alive. He already has one indelible scar. She wonders how many he’ll have someday. And does he ever forget that it’s there? Like she does with her tattoo? Then catch a glimpse of his reflection and remember who he is and how much it hurts?

“You can touch it.”

“What?” she whispers, because it’s dark, and they’re the only two there- in the dark with the candle’s warmth between them, and she doesn’t want to speak over the sound of the sea.

He sits on the edge of her bed without looking away. “My scar. You can touch it. I don’t mind.”

She realizes she’d been staring. She sits down next to him and raises her hand to his cheek, traces the scar with her fingertips while he watches her without blinking. It’s rough, a divet in otherwise smooth skin, the ridge of it guides her fingertips along its curved path like a line drawn on a map. Whatever did it, had gone deep.

He laughs, and it’s so sudden she jumps in surprise.

“Tickles.” he says.

Nami takes his face in both her hands, pulls him down onto the bed with her, opens his mouth with hers. She breathes against his lips, feels his breath returned on her skin, proof of life- his and hers. She lets his breath fall between her lips, breathes it in as her own.

Her fingers slides up his shirt, landing just west of his heart. Like the sea, she reaches out to touch something she can’t have. She tries to pull him under, she kisses him breathless.

Luffy’s hands roam over her body with uncertainty, like a mouth trying to form the words of a language foreign to him. The ocean beneath the ship makes the bed roll gently on its wave, her hips canting into his thigh on the swell, and on the next crest Luffy flips her over onto her back, blanketing her body with the weight of his. In the candle light he watches her as he kisses her, his eyes open and his lashes low. 

She puts her arms around his neck and holds onto him as if he could be her lifeline.

End. 

[ironmansuuucks]

Like Father Like Daughter

Dewey Finn x Stark!Daughter Reader - Part 1

 OK hai. so this is a crossover if you couldn't already tell lmao. Tony Stark Daughter reader x Dewey Finn. if you ain’t a fan of marvel then you don’t need to think of it as that and vice versa. this ended up very long winded lmao I apologise but I got carried away hehe. It’s a fluffy, kinda smutty, kinda angsty lil part one about the reader finding a connection in someone knew that she never expected!

I imagine them both to be around like 24/26 age wise maybe? I am also most likely going to be doing a part 2 that involves more of Tony hehe, hope you enjoy my lovelies!!

words - 4400 (lmao i’m so sorry)

warnings - fluff, slight smut, slight angst, drinking

also, this absolutely amazing mood board was created by the one and only @thewolfisapartofmysoul​ thank you so much for this little masterpiece it ties everything together amazingly xxx

“listen, my night is going to go the same as they always do: I’ll hook up with some guy, we’ll go back to mine, he’ll wake up and realise who I am, then my dad will see him leave, me and him will fight and then I’ll grab a cheese burger from burger king and then sleep off my hangover” you explained as you applied the final layer of mascara, talking to your best friend as you got ready to go out, yet again. your friend giggled “god y/n, you’re so like your dad when he was younger”. You rolled your eyes. Being the daughter of the famous genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist Tony Stark had its troubles. You were sick of the famous lifestyle, constantly being followed around, the lack of freedom and the fake friends was taking it’s toll on you. Not to mention your dad constantly being on your back. Yeah you got on with him great, most of the time, but there was a gap that no one was able to fix. When your mom died when you were 11, you began to change. Tony tried his best but you missed her.

So you started to act out. Going out all the time, getting drunk, getting laid then getting up to do it again the next day, never really making any real connections. Some would say you were your dads daughter, and they weren’t wrong. you could hold your drink, you went to university to study mechanics (not that you didn’t know how to do it all anyway), you were witty, and some would argue sometimes a bit arrogant – but only those who crossed you would argue arrogant. But no one knew the real you. Most just assumed you were the same as your father when he was your age; arrogant, rich and a shitty person. No one wanted to know the real you, and those who did, only did because of who your dad was.

So here you were, getting ready to go out for the fourth time this week, wearing tight black, high waisted jeans, a lacy bodysuit, black denim jacket and a pair of tatty old black converse. Your ACDC t-shirt was laying on your bed ready for when you came home too drunk, probably going to get thrown on the floor as you pushed some random guy down on to the sheets. You and your friend snuck out of your room at 9:15, trying to avoid your dad so you wouldn’t argue, stealing a bottle of his Jack Daniels off of the shelf in the kitchen as you both ran out of the apartment.

* * * *

“another double please good sir” you shouted at the barman over the painfully loud music at the bar, whom you had been flirting with. He was cute. Probably hung like a horse. Your friend had fucked off with some other guy around 35 minutes ago so you stayed at the bar and drank to your hearts content, hoping the barman would be tonight’s victim. You clinked glasses with the barman, upon looking at his name tag you realised his name was jack, “cheers jack” you said as you both downed a double rum and coke. You giggled once you had finished your drink, licking the corner of your top lip with bedroom eyes painted on your face. Jack smiled back, then his eyes squinted and a wave of realisation brushed his face “wait.. aren’t you the daughter of Tony Stark?” he smirked. Your face dropped. “why you gotta ruin it jack” you said as you got up to walk away and find someone new, leaving a 50 dollar bill on the table for the barman to pick up.

Huffing, you began to walk to the other bar across the room, but suddenly someone bumped into you and all you could feel was the freezing cold liquid from his glass trickle all down your tits and chest. “what the fuck” you exclaimed, flailing your hands at your side. The boy looked directly at your tits when he realised what he had done, his eyes growing wide, then up at your face, then back down. “hooollyy fuck, oh my god I’m so sorry” he exclaimed, looking back up at your face. You examined his features, curly, dark hair, little bit of scruff on his face, ACDC t-shirt on, similar to the one laying on your bed currently, and cute as fuck brown eyes. “uh, come on I gotta get you some tissues”. He grabbed your wrist and headed back towards the bar.

You followed him drunkenly, swaying slightly and bumping into him. He grabbed a few tissues from the holder at the bar and went to start wiping away the Bacardi on your chest but he stopped when he realised where he was about to touch. You looked up at him knowingly and nodded, smirking. He smiled back, snickering slightly. He dabbed the area where your chest was exposed, and tried to keep his composure. You continued to smirk and put one hand on your hip, looking down at him brushing over your exposed top tit, thinking about how he is probably freaking out inside. “sick t-shirt” you told him, looking at his top then up to his eyes. “uhh, thanks” he said still dabbing your chest. You laughed “alright dude I think it’s all gone”. He removed his hand quickly, “oh yeah.. sorry. Yeah no my t-shirt was actually from their tour last year” he smiled looking down at it then back up at you. A dopey smile painted on his face. You got excited “oh my god no way! I was at that concert!” He matched your excitement “oh no way man that’s sick! The one where Brian Johnson brought that girl on stage and she flashed her tits?”. Once he said that you were instantly taken back to that concert. That girl he was on about was you. You and your dad had fallen out because you both got far too drunk at that concert so you went down to the crowd and done what you did to piss him off. It was fair to say he didn’t talk to you for a month straight. You laughed “oh my god that girl was me!”. His eyes grew wide again “no way that’s amazing” he laughed with you. “yeah I was far too drunk and was trying to piss off my dad. I’m y/n by the way.” You shouted over the loud music. “Dewey” he replied close to your ear so you could hear him. “and if I had a daughter who’d done that, she’s never see the light of day again” he joked.

Dewey. Dewey, Dewey, Dewey. This guy seemed pretty cool. “Hey Dewey, I think I owe you a drink” you said turning towards the bar and leaning over it, sticking your ass out ever so slightly, and Dewey had noticed the gesture, raising his eyebrow, admiring, but pretended he didn’t. He joined you at the bar and put his hand up to get the attention of the barman “I’m pretty sure this is supposed to go the other way around”. You laughed, “trust me I don’t mind. I’ve got more money than sense- Hey jack two double Bacardi please, just add it to my tab”. Dewey laughed “well as long as you’re sure”. You looked at him and grinned “more than sure. So uh, where are your friends?” you pondered, wondering why he was alone. Dewey looked down and tried to keep smiling. “ah you know guys, they are all out to pick up girls and get laid so they left to go to a club just before I bumped into you”. He looked up at the barman then down at you again. you rested your chin on your hand “so why didn’t you go with them?” a puzzled look on your face. Dewey looked down again. “I mean, well, I don’t wanna sound corny but I come out for the music, and to have a good time – not just to pick up chicks, and get laid”. You smiled at him, how sweet. “and besides, this bar plays sick music and its cheap.. and well, its got cool people like you in it”.

You grinned and elbowed him playfully “aw you, you’re cute”. A blush appeared on Dewey’s face as he looked up then at you. You also came to this bar because of the music. It was relatively small so not many people ever really noticed who you were. But they played ACDC, Aerosmith, Black Sabbath, Queen.. the list was endless and all your favourites. “not a lot of other people I know like this bar because if the music, but I freaking love it” you said handing him his freshly made drink, and clinking it with him. “bottoms up” Dewey said and you replied “bottoms up good sir”. As you held the glass up to your mouth your eyes moved to the door where you seen your friend leaving with some guy on her arm. Rolling your eyes you necked back the double Bacardi.

“well, seeing as both of our friends have abandoned us, do you fancy getting drunk and having a laugh with me Dewey?” you questioned him as he slammed the cup back on the bar from downing the strong beverage. He looked over and you “sounds like a damn good plan to me y/n”. You smirked. “we are gonna have so much fun”.

* * * *

 The amount of alcohol you had consumed between one another was sinful by the time the bar closed. Shot after shot, double after double. You had probably drank the place dry of Bacardi and Tequila. The music was the best they had ever played and you both danced and jumped the night away. What was going on? Normally you were grinding up against some guy trying to get him to go home with you, not that it took much, but tonight you actually had the time of your life. Between belting out the lyrics to Don’t Stop Believing, to trying to do all of the parts of Bohemian Rhapsody had you on some high you had never felt. Dewey wasn’t like any other guy you normally kicked around with but boy were you glad that he spilled his drink on you. You had shared one kiss with him the whole time you were there and it was after the song Sweet Child O’ Mine. you had looked up at the drunken face singing the last lyric and just felt an urge to jump forward and kiss it. Dewey was shocked, but pleasantly surprised. It was a soft kiss, the kind where his top lip rested below yours. He simply rested his hands on your waist for a second before pulling away because the beginning of Summer of 69 began to play. You laughed at him. He was so different from the other jerks you would pick up. They would grab your ass and stick their tongues down your throat; but not Dewey. He was different.

Dewey pulled you away from the closing bar as well as he could as you argued with the bouncer about leaving. “and y-you listen to me.. it’s o-only 3:30 it’s so EEARRLLY” you shouted at them as they kicked everyone out, not there were many left. Dewey laughed drunkenly at you as he pulled you down the street “yeah you tell em”. You kept a hold of Dewey’s hand as you cuddled into him slightly, trying to beat the cold, walking the streets to anywhere. Neither of you secretly wanted to leave one another. “here, do you want my jacket?” Dewey slightly slurred,. “nah ma man I’m good I’ve got my own” you smirked looking up at him with punch-drunk eyes. Dewey looked down at you and smiled then he slammed his eyes shut and used his hands to play an air guitar, making noises to sound like the guitar at the start of Highway to Hell. as soon as you realised what he was doing, you also smashed your eyes closed and moved your head back and forth “living easy.. living free” you started. Unconsciously you started walking in the direction back to your dads apartment at the Stark Tower as you both continued belting out rock classics to one another, singing the guitar riff to see if the other one could guess the song.

“oh you know I know that ones Hotel California by the Eagles” Dewey exclaimed as you reached the front doors of Stark Tower. Dewey hadn’t even clocked where he was because he was too drunk and preoccupied by you, but he knew that this must be your apartment building by the way you began to walk towards the door. In Dewey’s mind this meant goodbye. This was what always happened. He would walk a girl home, give her his number then never hear from her again. he was nervous about the rejection. You stopped once you realised that Dewey had stopped and wasn’t following you. You looked around at him “what are you waiting for? A cold?” you joked. Dewey’s eyes opened wide “wait what? You want me to come in with you?” he said dumbfound. You scoffed “obviously. You wouldn’t believe the alcohol collection my dad has up there.. speaking of, my dad will probably be in the apartment but he’s probably passed out in his workshop so wouldn’t even hear a bomb going off in the kitchen so don’t worry about him”. Dewey felt a blush creeping on to his face, no one had ever invited him up like this before. It made him feel like he was someone important, or interesting.

You both pretended to act sober walking past the receptionist, not that she would say anything anyway, she knew exactly who you were and what you were up to. You playfully pushed Dewey into the empty elevator and pressed the button to the penthouse. Out of habit, you pulled Dewey by his t-shirt flush against you and started to kiss him. Dewey chuckled into the kiss, closing his eyes, not being able to believe what was going on. He put his arms around your waist as you slung yours over his shoulders. “hey.. do you.. have.. any.. coffee?” he questioned between kisses. You pulled away from him and looked up at him confused. “of course I do why?” you smiled. “because I could murder a cup right now” you giggled at him.  “of course I do”. You LOVED coffee. It was your favourite beverage, next to Jack Daniels of course; your daddy’s daughter alright. Having coffee after a night out was always one of your favourite things to drink, you swore it made the hangover slightly easier. However all the guys you usually brought home went straight to the vodka to get more drunk. This guy was so fresh, and new, and more like yourself than you could have imagined.

When the elevator door dinged open you and Dewey came out laughing about something stupid. Suddenly JARVIS started to talk to you. “uh, miss Stark, you know Mr Stark doesn’t approve of you bringing strays home every-“ you heard the AI start “oh shut up Jarvis, where is he anyway” you moaned back at it. “your father is downstairs in the workshop asleep” you silently cheered “yes. Thank you JARVIS, bye”. You turned round to look at Dewey who was in shock, eyes wide and mouth gaped open. “what.. the hell.. was that?” he asked laughing. You giggled at his reaction “ah don’t worry about JARVIS, he’s kinda just like the intercom system”. “I can still hear you miss. I’m actually a lot smarter than-“ “goodnight JARVIS” you cooed at the AI before he would drone on. You headed over to the kitchen. Dewey followed you and looked around, in complete awe. “your folks must be super rich y/n, what the hell” you chuckled “yeah, you could say that”.

As you went to turn on the coffee machine, Dewey’s eyes caught the wall in the back of the living room that was full of classic, expensive guitars. He began to walk over to them “woow no fucking way! Where the hell did you get these bad boys?” he exclaimed, admiring the Gibson Les Paul “Black Beauty” 1956, that was at least $30000. You turned on the coffee machine and walked over to stand beside him, folding your arms. “yeah, it’s a hobby me and my dad share. We are obsessed.” You walked down the wall a little more picking up the 1968 Fender Strat. You sat on the edge of the couch and started to pick at the strings. “this. this is our prize possession. The 1968 Fender Strat, previously owned by Jimmy Hendrix.” Dewey’s face lit up in disbelief. You continued to look down at the strings “yeah my dad paid.. what was it now? 2.3 mil I think it was? Maybe 2.4? I can’t remember exactly but it’s somewhere around that figure.” Dewey was dumbfounded for the second time in 15 minutes. “by mil, you mean million right?” you nodded. “who the fuck is your dad” Dewey laughed. You looked down then to the side then at him “aw it doesn’t matter.. why don’t you hold this, have a wee play and I’ll go sort out the coffee? What do you take?” you questioned, handing him the guitar. Dewey’s eyes lit up when you handed him the instrument. Excitement bubbling in him. “uhh… I’ll just take it black the now” he replied. You smiled to yourself walking back to the kitchen. You also took you coffee black after a night out.

Before fixing the coffee you went and got changed. Walking into your bedroom you were glad that you had laid out your ACDC t-shirt before leaving, actually putting it on before getting in the bed for the first time in a long time. You had just decided to wear the t-shirt and a pair of panties seeing that the t-shirt just covered your ass, and a pair of your dads black sport socks as they were the comfiest. you tied your hair up in a loose, messy ponytail and went back to pour the coffees. You could hear Dewey playing the guitar from the kitchen and the sounds soothed you. There was nothing you loved more. You could tell from the sound that he had picked up the acoustic guitar. “oooh the Gibson Hummingbird, nice choice” you complimented as you walked towards Dewey with two mugs in your hand. “yeah It’s one of my.. favourites” he looked up to see you in just the ACDC t-shirt, the exact same one he had on. It was long, but he could still make out your figure, and the shape of your breasts from the way it was sitting. And it sat high, very high on your legs, at the top of your thighs. It was hot. Dewey tried not to stare but it was hard when you looked that beautiful. “nice t-shirt” he decided to say as he put the guitar back on the wall. you blushed slightly “thanks. You know, normally people just walk past the guitars without giving them a thought.” Dewey came and sat on the opposite end of the couch from you “are you kidding? Those guitars are probably the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. Guitars and music is my life. I actually run my own music business for kids, sort of like an after school thing actually” he said proudly. “oh my god that’s amazing, I love that” you returned excitedly. Dewey looked down at his mug, blushing “yeah the kids enjoy it, I mean so do I. the little rascals”. You smiled at him.

Dewey looked up at you. “you know, I’ve never met anyone like you before”. You smirked “I’m just one of a kind baby” you joked. Baby. Dewey felt a little heat in his stomach when he heard you say that, even though it was in jest. “nah you’re the same dude, your so different from anyone I’ve ever met. You’re so down to earth, and genuine.. and we have so much in common like I’ve never met anyone else who nerds out over guitars like me and my dad before” you smiled. “your dad sounds like a cool guy, I’d like to meet him one day”. You chuckled and looked down “yeah don’t they all”. “what?” Dewey questioned, not really hearing you. “nothing” you said, smiling and looking up at him. The warm glow from the lights really made his face look soft, and inviting. You put your coffee on the table and scooted over next to him, taking the mug off of him and placing it on the table. Dewey furrowed his eyebrows, not really sure what to do, or what was going to happen next.

You put your hands up to his face, rubbing your thumbs up and down. “you’re really different, and I really like it”. Dewey blushed from your words. You leant into kiss him softly, his top lip below yours. Dewey kissed you back. This was like no kiss either of you had experienced. It was warm, and soft, not aggressive and needy. You felt butterflies in your stomach, which was something you hadn’t experienced in a long time. You had kissed a lot of guys and felt a lot of things, but nothing ever like this. Dewey moved his hands to your waist and pulled you on to his lap, your legs straddling his middle. He then moved his hands down and on to your thighs. Those thighs. He had been thinking about them from the moment he seen you walk in with the mugs of coffee. You moaned slightly at his touch, his rough fingers, calloused from playing guitar you imagined. That moan made Dewey feel weak. He moved his hands up your body, towards your under boob and just rubbed the skin over your t-shirt there. The kiss became a little bit more heated as your hands began to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. Grinding on his lap ever so slightly, you could feel the bulge growing in his jeans, but you had to retreat back to your room if this was to go any further. You couldn’t risk your dad walking in.

You got up off of his lap and grabbed his hand, pulling him off of the couch. When Dewey got up, his body met yours in another kiss. Kissing him back you began to walk backwards towards the staircase to your room. “come on, we’ll head up to my room yeah?” Dewey nodded, leaning in to kiss you again. you chuckled and kissed him quickly pulling him towards the stairs.

Upon reaching your room, you kicked the door open with the back of your foot, still making out with Dewey when you approached the door. “JARVIS.. close.. the.. blinds” you said between kisses. “of course ma’am” the AI replied. Dewey pulled away for a second, admiring your room. Band posters all over the wall, the huge floor-to-ceiling long windows at the side, all of the tech and tools lying around. “wow this is crazy” Dewey proclaimed. You chuckled and rolled your eyes “yeah I know, sorry it’s a mess” you laughed. Dewey pulled you by your t-shirt flush against him “you are so damn smart and sexy you know that” you smirked, blushing slightly. “I know” you winked. “JARVIS, main light off, mood light on”. Suddenly the brightness of the room faded and a red glow appeared, bringing a lustful ambience to the room. you kissed one another again, needy. You began to unbutton Dewey’s jeans and pulled them down, he kicked them off as you walked backwards towards the bed. You pushed Dewey down on to the bed and he sat on the edge. You were about to join him before you suddenly got a bit self-conscious. Normally you had some sort of sexy lingerie on, some sort of lacy bodysuit thing, or at least a sexy matching bra and thong to give you a bit more confidence. But you had been so preoccupied with getting to know Dewey that you had completely forgot. Would he think you were ugly? Wouldn’t want to be around you anymore? You felt hot suddenly. Were you not good enough? “I uh.. I don’t have any kinda like, you know, sexy lingerie or anything on.. not even a lacy bra like.. I’ll go change if you want.. like I don’t mind-“. Dewey’s eyebrows furrowed and you got worried for a second before he replied “oh my god are you kidding me?” He pulled you on to his lap by grabbing a hold of your ACDC top. “you don’t need anything like that to look sexy.” He looked up at you. You blushed and put your arms around his neck. “why on earth would you think that? I think that when you walked in the room with just that ACDC t-shirt on and those socks was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen”. You giggled. “you don’t need all that stuff to look beautiful” he looked up at you as if you were the most beautiful thing in the world. It was enough to bring a tear to a glass eye. “and if this isn’t what you want? If you want me to just lie here, tickle your back, stroke your hair, cuddle you or even if you want to just sit and talk all night.. I would be more than happy to do any of that with you”. You began to tear up. No one had ever treated you like this before.

You kissed him again. “you are far too good for me Dewey Finn. How on earth did I find you?” he smiled “I’m one of a kind baby” he winked, repeating your earlier statement. He kissed you again, and you kissed him back. Suddenly regaining your confidence back slightly, you lifted up and took of your t-shirt, leaving yourself bare, apart from a thong, straddling this strangers middle. Dewey moaned when he looked at you. His hands ran up your waist and rib cage as his mouth went to the space between your breasts “beautiful” he said between kisses. You moaned slightly as he rubbed his hands up and down your body slowly, continuing to leave kisses and suck on your skin. “you taste like Bacardi”.

[annaphoenix1994]

Colter - Eastward Bound

Arthur had never been so happy to be moving. He, as well as the rest of the gang, were sick of the snow. The numbness, the insomnia, the brink famine, was all about to be left at Colter. His body craved sunshine and whiskey, which he hoped a town was closeby wherever they were going. He dismounted his horse as he met up with Dutch to discuss further plans.

"Oh, for Lord's sake! Put that book away and go help!" Miss Grimshaw barked within Arthur's earshot. It didn't take him long to figure out that she was scolding Mary-Beth Gaskill, one of the women in the camp who reminded him a lot of Lenny - she preferred reading or writing over robbing and killing, but could do so if need be. She was also one for romance, taking a liking to Arthur in particular, at least, that was the rumor. He had always thought that she liked how nice he was to her and nothing more than that.

"So, we getting out of this Hellhole?" Arthur asked as he joined Dutch and Hosea.

"We're gonna try, weather seems stable," Dutch assured.

"And we just robbed a Leviticus Cornwall train," Hosea added.

"We got money in our pockets...the worst is behind us, gentlemen! So the question is, where now?"

"I know this country a little," Hosea assured the worried leader. "I told you, we should set up camp in Horseshoe Overlook near Valentine. We'll be able to hide out there no problem as long as we keep our noses clean."

"Well then let's go! Clean noses and everything else!" Dutch commanded as he watched the rest of the gang load up the caravan. "Arthur, you're in that one, bring Hosea, I know you two like to talk about the good old days and what's wrong with old Dutch."

Arthur chuckled as he shook his head, following Dutch's orders as he loaded himself up onto the wagon, Hosea alongside him.

The caravan made its way slowly down the trail. The scenery of lush, white snow slowly turning to dewey green grass. The wind was still cold, though, as it still had a strong breeze, but to Arthur, even that was warm. He let his mind wander to where they were heading. Was there a town where he could have a hot meal other than Pearson's stew? Was there whiskey? Was there laying low for a long while instead of running? Was there hunting ground? Was there any more chances to run into Minnie Barlow? He shook the last question from his head, scolding himself for thinking of her and how he shouldn't think about her, but his mind continued to wander. There was something about her already that he needed to reassure himself on.

Arthur's thoughts were quickly interrupted by Dutch shouting from ahead, sighing a breath of relief that he was only shouting for Lenny and Micah instead of announcing there was trouble ahead.

"Lenny! Micah! Get over here!"

"Yes, boss?" Micah replied as he obeyed Dutch's command, along with Lenny.

"You two ride up ahead, make sure there's no surprises," Dutch ordered. "We've had enough of those."

"Me, with the boy?" Micah responded, almost insulted.

"Just go!"

"Come on, kid," Micah sighed as he spurred his horse into a lope. "You can buy me a whiskey!"

"Get us out the stream!" Hosea panicked as he felt the wagon shutter as they had now crossed into New Hanover. Arthur repeatedly tapped the harness leather across the horse's backs as they pulled the wagon through to the other side, only to be stopped by the rear left wheel buckling and keeping the wagon at a halt.

"Ah, shit!" Arthur shouted.

"Okay, let's take a look," Hosea sighed as he lept from the wagon, walking around the back.

"You alright back there?"

"Does everything look alright?" Arthur argued as he too dismounted from the wagon.

"Well, what's goin' on?" He heard Javier ask.

"I broke the goddamn wheel!" Arthur shouted, scolding himself.

"Alright, let's get it fixed!" Hosea assured him as Charles rushed over to help, pairing with the old man as they lifted up the rear of the wagon as best as they could as Arthur rushed to push the wheel back into place.

"You still strong enough to hold up a wagon?" Arthur teased as he tightened the joints.

"Shut up!" Hosea replied gruffly.

"I'm just sayin'!" Arthur replied.

"Well, say less!"

"See, you ain't so useless after all!" Arthur teased as he helped Charles and Hosea pick up the items that had fallen off.

"Not quite!" Hosea chuckled as he picked up a suitcase, seeing that Charles had noticed the other eyes that were on them, watching from the cliffside ahead...

"What you think?" Arthur asked hesitantly.

"If they wanted trouble, we wouldn't have seen 'em," Charles assured the two as Hosea waved a sign of peace to them. "Poor bastards... We really screwed them over down here. Come on, let's not push our luck,"

"What happened?" Arthur asked.

"Well, get in, I'll tell ya on the way," Hosea said as the men quickly loaded themselved back up onto the wagon. "Not too far now, stay on this trail. We'll follow the river then cut left inland," Hosea directed. "So... Yes, the Indians in these parts got sold a very raw deal. This is the Heartlands we're going to, good farming and grazing country, they lost it all. Stolen clean away from them it was, even every blade of grass. Killed or herded up to the reservations in the middle of nowhere." Hosea explained.

"And how's that different from everywhere else?" Charles asked.

"Well, maybe it's not. I just heard some of the army out here was particularly, uh, unpleasant about it."

"Unpleasant? How do you rob and kill people pleasantly?" Charles questioned. "We don't, in spite of Dutch's talk."

"I fear I was perhaps trying to simplify something more complicated for the benefit of our blockheaded driver here." Hosea teased.

"Hey, don't blame it on me!" Arthur replied. "Never forget, this here's a conman, Charles, born and bred. Just 'cause it sounds fancy don't mean he knows a damn thing about what he's talkin' about." Arthur explained.

"Oh, but I sure know about that there 'wanted' poster you're keepin' on you," Hosea chuckled. "You plannin' on goin' after her, aren't you?"

Arthur scoffed, "No. Like I said, you don't know what you're talkin' about."

"Are you still talking about that Minnie Barlow woman? What's the deal about her anyway? Lenny told me that she saved your hide back on that train." Charles intervened.

"Oh, did she now?" Hosea asked, raising his grey brows. "I didn't know about this!"

'Shit!' Arthur thought to himself. He was now going to have to talk about her. He looked at the smug grin on Hosea's face as he loved to try and land him a relationship that he would never settle for. He had already tried with Mary-Beth, which now made things almost awkward in camp. "I don't think it was her," Arthur grit, tapping the harness leather harder on the horse's backs.

"Yeah?" Hosea questioned. "Anyway, Charles, Minnie Barlow is known as Bandit Barlow around here. By what I've read, she used to work for some feller who is employed with the Pinkertons. Apparently, she knew too much and her supervisor tried to get her killed. After she found out about it, she turned around and robbed him, then became an outlaw!" Hosea explained, chuckling.

"Does she have a gang or what?"

"No, she runs alone," Hosea replied. "I reckon she had a small gang a few years ago, but they knew about her bounty and tried to have her captured for the payment. According to the poster Arthur is dearly holding on to, she has eight-thousand dollars for her head," Hosea snickered. "I don't know much about her past, just by what I've read or heard, but I do know she robbed the Lemoyne National Bank in Saint Denis, robbing a well-known tycoon as well. Some Italian feller. Robbed him and that bank in broad daylight and nobody knew until she was long gone,"

"Sounds like I need to buy her a drink and have a few hours of her time just to hear the stories!" Charles replied, intrigued. "When did the bank robbery happen?"

"A couple of years ago," Hosea replied. "By what I read, the robbery took up to three months to do without anybody knowin'. She got a job there, made it well with the bank manager over time, and got a promotion to a loan manager position and the fellers she was runnin' with would come in every few weeks to "take out a loan" of a few thousand dollars when she would just walk into the safe and give them as much money as she could. After the bank was running low on funds, they didn't question her as she covered her tracks. Once time got scarce, she had one of her boys take out another big loan before she made a break for it."

"Sounds like she and Dutch would get along," Arthur replied, smirking at the thought of how smart the woman was.

"I'm sure," Charles said. "So, how did nobody catch her?"

"She used a fake name to get the job. The only thing that messed her up was that she got the wrong men for the job. They were giving details to the Pinkertons the whole time. They turned her name in for the bounty after she gave orders to rob a train goin' towards Rhodes. Big roadblock over the tracks, but Minnie took wind of it and made a break for it, leavin' her two guys to fend for themselves. They ended up getting arrested and are now in a state penitentiary. Since then, only her tracks have been discovered, but no sign of her. She's slick, now," Hosea warned.

"Sure," Arthur replied. "I'm sure she won't be that hard to find..."

Hosea chuckled, "Let me know how that goes." He teased.

"So..." Arthur cleared his throat, taking in all of the new information he had just learned of his apparent crush. "What happened to your tribe?" He asked Charles.

"I don't even know if I have one," Charles replied. "Least not that I can remember. My father was a colored man. They told me he lived with our people for a while, a number of free men did, but when we were forced to move from our lands, the three of us fled. I was too young to really remember much. All live I've been on the run. A couple of years later, some soldiers captured my mother, took her somewhere. We never saw her again. We drifted around... He was a very sad man and the drink had a mean hold on him. Around thirteen... I just took off on my own." He explained.

"That was about the age we found young Arthur here, maybe a little older," Hosea said. "A wilder delinquent you never did see. But he learned fast."

"Not as fast as Marston, apparently," Arthur replied, his jealousy spiking yet again.

"Wait... I don't understand," Charles said, confused. "What's the problem between you two?"

"Arthur?" Hosea said, insisting for him to explain.

"It's a long story," Arthur sighed. "We still heading the right way?" He asked, now shifting during the awkward silence.

───※ ·❆· ※───

"You okay, pa?" Minnie asked her father as she woke from a midday nap, something she never did unless she needed it. She gripped her shawl tighter as the wind from the Cumberland Forest engulfed the cabin.

"Somethin' don't feel right," He replied, gripping his rifle as he continued to stare out the window. She knew this wasn't anything new as he had been acting like this for a couple of years, but she too got the odd feeling in her gut. She needed to prepare.

"I'm sure it's nothin', pa," Minnie assured as she stepped closer to her father, patting his shoulder. "Want me to cook ya somethin'?"

"No, I'm not hungry. Night's comin' soon. Best get some rest. I'll be out on the porch."

She nodded and shook her head, not daring to inform her father that it was only early in the afternoon. She went to the chest at the end of the bed, retrieving her gunbelt and tightening it around her waist before walking out of the cabin, passing her father who was sitting in the rocking chair. "I'm gonna go feed the chickens and get the eggs, but we'll need some more food soon. Want me to go into town later?" She asked.

"No need, dear. I will. I need to get out of here for a bit. Those mountains are taunting me." He replied, taking a drag off of his pipe.

"You'll need a horse, take Trace." She suggested as she pointed to her buckskin Quarter Horse.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, he'll take care of you. He always does." She smiled.

"Okay, well I'll take him out first thing in the mornin' to Valentine and get some more food," He nodded, a grin appearing on his face as he was excited to ride a horse again, but the lurking doom he felt coming never did settle in his mind. He didn't want to leave his daughter alone tomorrow, but whatever was coming, he knew they both couldn't escape. At least she had a fighting chance.

[cl-babydew]

20.) “I’ll protect you no matter what...even if it kills me.” Debbigail

This was requested by @cartoonromantic(Wattpad). This ones a bit short compared to the others, but I think it came out pretty good! This one may or may not seem familiar to you guys. This is an old fic I wrote on here, but I chose to rewrite it cuz the sentence fit well! Plus it needed a touch up! XD Hope you all enjoy!

———————

Why did this have to happen?...

Now of all days?!

Last thing the two teen ducks knew contained them walking to an ice cream parlor with Louie, Huey, Lena, and Violet. Of course now of all days he and Webby would be tied upside down in an abandoned house with the Beagle Boys. They just never had good timing, did they? He should really get them a watch or something, but that’s besides his worries at the moment.

Blood continued to rush to their heads as they swung 10 feet above sold concrete. He wasn’t entirely worried, not only did he have a warrior by his side, but normally these chums were easy to get past. Hint...normally. Today they seemed a bit off. Some might’ve assumed it was because they weren’t really sure which set of beagles were with them; the three silhouettes lingering in the shadows. Even knowing this knowledge, Dewey’s confidence did not falter.

“We got this, Webby! We’ll get loose and show these no good for nothing puppies who’s boss!” He spat, his grin growing to the point a few teeth could be seen. His hands began to squirm, the movements causing them to sway a bit more than they already were. The blue triplet’s tongue stuck out in concentration while his face was painted over with determination.

His struggling came to an abrupt halt as he felt a warm hand clutch onto his cold one, tightly at that. “Webby?” Before he could voice his worry, the reasoning behind her action stepped into the light. All the color that once filled his face, drained, causing him to look paler then normal.

These weren’t their ordinary Beagle Boys. The originals couldn’t even hold a candle to them. They stood basking in the light’s glare, smirking smugly with a look of hunger in their eyes. A hunger for blood. Their blood.

Dewey yelped, squeezing Webby’s sweaty hand back in response to earlier, “The Tumblebums!” It’s no wonder his best friend’s been so uncharacteristically quiet.

He gulped, bitting on the inside of his cheek, hoping to hold enough confidence for the both of them. It was easier said than done if he were being totally honest. But he couldn’t let fear override him, for Webbys sake! He wouldn’t. He’ll be strong for the both of them.

His thoughts were interrupted by an earthquake vibrating his back. He pried his eyes away from the silent beagles. Dewey tried his best to look over his shoulder at his best friend, failing from the angle she was facing. He stubbornly settled on looking at the back of her head, harshly fidgeting along with the rest of her jolts. Worry began to bubble in the pit of his stomach. This seemed all too familiar to him. She was having a panic attack. Oh no...Why here?! Why now?! This is bad, this is-

“Hahahahaheeeeeehaaa..”

His head whipped around to the spine crumbling sound, sending shivers throughout his body. The laughed pierced through him, and if he were feeling this shaken up by their laughs alone, he doesn’t want to imagine how bad it might be for Webby. The poor girl continued to shake and hyperventilate. Her breathing was sharp and staggering by the minute against his back. Gosh he hated this. He wanted to envelope her in his arms.

“Dang ropes! Curse these creepy clown wannabes!”

His teeth gritted against the other, his free hand’s fist gripping tightly as it begun to tingle. He’s pretty sure he was seething at this point; the pot in his belly being close to overflowing. Past his fury, deep down he wished the beagles decided to stay quiet, they were surprisingly less scary that way. He also wished they haven’t even ended up in this situation in the first place. Oh did that ice cream sound pretty good right about now, it would do wonders in cooling that flame of his down. Guess he’ll settle for the cool wind lightly bristling against his forehead, sweeping his now messed up zoosh. They were going to pay! For his hair, and for scarring his best friend. They picked with the wrong duck.

But before he did anything, he needed to think, and in order to think straight, he needed to calm down. Also easier said than done. The blue duck closed his eyes, taking in deep breaths to calm himself. In...out...in...out...in- One of his lids happened to peak; he held the breath he currently took. One of the creepy clowns were right in his face. He could’ve sworn they were standing 10 feet away from him two minutes ago! He bit on the inside of his cheek nervously; his own breaths threatening to frizzle. “No!” His eyes snapped closed once more.

“For Webby; think Dewey! Don’t let them get in your head! For Webby’s sake! Think like you never thunk before!” He chewed back a whimper, “Please...just this once, brain?”

He just needed to focus..yea. He took another breath, allowing him to focus on the girls breathing. Did...did she get worse?! How come he didn’t notice?! He’s literally tied against her, how- “DEWEY!” He screamed at himself. This was no time to panic. Allowing his thoughts to settle on Webby only seemed to make things worse.

The boy paused after a bit of silence. He didn’t feel any presence anymore. That was...strange. Swallowing down fear wanting to leak through, he took the leap, his eyes snapping open...no one was there.

“What?...”

The room’s silence filled with high pitched sobs. His ears perked up, knowing all too well where they were coming from. His beak’s frown fell further. He wanted to cry along with her, but he knew he couldn’t. He can’t! He was their only hope out of here...he grimaced...oh boy, they were going to die here.

He shook his head, which stopped as soon as it began, “Wait...” his thoughts started to scramble around, “Why were they sent here if all they were going to do was stare and leave?!” His anxiety shot up, keeping him at alert as he bit down on his bottom beak. He really hoped they were gone, and for a while. He needed to think of a way out of these ropes. How long have they been hanging upside- wait a minute...why did the room look up right again? Did they?...NOOOOO! Of course not! They most likely tapped everything to the ceiling to make it look like they were facing up right again so they would lose their insanity quicker and break.

“Jokes on them because-“ yea...yea thinking about that now...he’s stupid. Sadly huffing out much needed air -they must’ve set them up right-,Dewey finally concluded. But why? He truly didn’t care, all he wanted was to get out of here, and that they’ll do! Well...he’ll do.

Dewey glanced back over to the girl, she seemed to have calmed down... “Hey Webs?”...

No reply. Holding back his pulse, he repeated, wincing at his voice cracking. Betrayal...utter betrayal.

Still nothing from the girl. His heart dropped all the way down to his webbed feet. No no no no- “Webby!? Webby, are you okay?! Webs!”

He hated this! He hated this! He hated this! He couldn’t see her face! Was she even alive?! “Don’t think such things! Check to see if she’s breathing first, you idiot!”

The teen duck held his breath, relying on their connected backs to pick up on her breathing. It took a lot in him to focus and not fall into a complete spiral, but thankfully after a few beats of his own heart, he felt her back rise and fall soothingly compared to earlier. The smile that graced his beak seconds prior, faded, “She must’ve knocked herself out after that episode she was having.” He mumbled to no one in particular. At least she was resting now; she deserved it after what she just went through.

Dewey turned away from her sagging head, taking in a refreshing breath of cool air. The frown he’s been carrying formed into a determined quirk, eyebrows knitted. He spoke up into the night, hoping his soft and comforting voice would reach her even in her current state, “Don’t worry, Webs; I’ll get us both out of here, you’ll see. I’ll protect you no matter what...even if it kills me. Just rest up, okay? You can trust me. Oh and if you can hear me, happy birthday.”

——————

Who says that a oneshot needs to have a satisfying ending? Or that it needed to be long? >X3 Writing gives me too much power, I’m sorry! To calm your nerves tho, they did get back home safely, and Webby is fine! No one messes with Donald’s babies! XD Unless...ya know..you rather think on the darker side... Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed! Bye!

[twilighteve-writes]

Where the Sky Meets the Sea

Summary: The first dream they shared was of isolation and loneliness, of empty black sky and too-bright ground, of rustling wind and the desperate whirr of machines, of bitter, silent sea that refused to hear their plight.

Donald and Della, and how their magic meets and mixes.

(Also available in AO3)

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The first dream they shared was of isolation and loneliness, of empty black sky and too-bright ground, of rustling wind and the desperate whirr of machines, of bitter, silent sea that refused to hear their plight. Of flying so high and still not high enough, of being surrounded by power that refused to heed. Of screaming in frustration and despair, of pleading uselessly to the power that be and not having their wishes fulfilled, even though they were ready to pay the price.

They woke up in their old room in the manor with a start. The moon loomed in the distance, its silver light illuminating them through the window. They fell back asleep, the events of the day too tiring for them to stay awake – the invasion of the Moonlanders, reuniting at long last, finding out about their magic… They both bore scars from their separation and all the events that led to their reunion. Perhaps it was a fluke, something odd that would never happen again that they laughed at in years to come.

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They fell asleep side by side, the excitement of the newest adventure draining them, after tucking the boys in. The sofa was never the most comfortable sleeping place, but they had each other’s shoulders and the warmth of their backs pressing against the cushion.

They dreamed of planes crashing, of the deafening roar of metal screeching against rock. They dreamed of a weight cutting off her leg and gold band muzzling his beak and cuffing his wrists. They dreamed of the crushing weight of gravity as they fell back into Earth’s orbit.

Again, they woke with a start. They blinked the sleep out of their eyes, studying each other’s irises.

“Is this going to be a thing?” Donald asked.

“God, I hope not,” Della groaned.

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If there was an omniscient deity out there they did not grant the twins’ prayers.

It was a thing.

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The dreams were expected at this point. They kept getting shared dreams whenever they slept near each other, so they made sure to put a distance between them whenever night fell. There were still some shared dreams, but at least it wasn’t every day.

The feelings, though. That was unexpected.

He got it first, during a quiet breakfast with their family in an otherwise quiet morning. Dewey demanded pancake, a request that was soon echoed by his brothers, and then Webby agreed and stared at him with those wide, hopeful eyes, and Donald knew the battle was lost. He sighed and took the necessary ingredients to make the batter, directing Huey to handle the bacons and battling Della for command over the stove.

“No, go make a pot of coffee instead!” he yelled.

“What, I can totally fry some eggs,” Della protested.

“You haven’t actually touched a stove since you got back from the Moon and I have heard of the cake incident. You burned the stove; that doesn’t count. Sit down!”

Della blew raspberries. “Spoilsport,” she grumbled as she passed him, poking him in the rib. Their magic mingled, intertwining as they passed, and Donald felt fondness that wasn’t his; it felt foreign and reminded him of light feathers falling from the sky, breeze brushing his face, clouds drifting lazily as the afternoon went by. He froze in surprise, pulling his magic back in reflex.

Della met his eyes, and he knew she felt that.

“Mom, Uncle Donald?” Huey called, shaking them off the reverie. “Do you want the bacon crispy or not?”

“Uh, either way is fine, honey,” Della answered, and Donald nodded mutely as he resumed his motions to mix the pancake batter. They both knew this was only the first in what would be millions to come.

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They went back from a strangely eventful trip to the grocery store – of course this family could make a trip to a grocery store eventful; who else would be able to find the egg of an apparently extinct bird species in a grocery store of all places if not Huey – and they put their groceries to the kitchen, heaving a sigh that told everyone of how tired they were.

“Can we just have one day where we don’t have to deal with this?” Donald complained.

“I hear you, but let’s be real here. Do you honestly believe we can catch a break? I mean, this is the family where one member got stuck in the moon. We all have magic and the Greek gods are basically our friends at this point.” Della stared at him in challenge, lifting a brow.

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I just want things to be normal for once.”

“This is our normal, what can you do.”

Donald sighed, “Yeah,” and bumped his shoulder to hers, and their magic mixed together like pigments in oil. Something distinctly Donald snaked its way to her head, a resignation mixed with some possessive grip, a sense of it’s not perfect but I would never trade this for anything in this world, something that was undeniably salty and wet and rushing that screamed seawater and the deep.

Again, they froze, but this time they remained touching. The magic mixed further, and Della caught more things; confusion, surprise, disbelief, a question of some sort that she couldn’t understand.

Donald broke the contact first, though the magic touched still. “Oh,” was all he managed to say.

Della nodded in agreement. “Yeah,” she breathed. “Oh.”

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It felt like intruding on something private, when they received glimpses of what the other was feeling. It felt like violation, when they felt joy that wasn’t theirs brush against their cheek, lighting up the room in a way only the other could. It didn’t matter that they’d grown together, spending so much time memorizing each dip and line of the other’s face and learning what they meant. It didn’t matter that a split second of a glance could tell them what the other was feeling. Feeling what they felt was different from knowing, and it was crossing such a bold line it felt like jumping into a chasm.

They kept wincing and dancing around each other that the kids started getting anxious, so Donald sat next to her on her bed and sighed. “We can’t keep going like this.”

“Nope. We can’t,” Della agreed. She turned to face him. “So, what are we gonna do about it?”

Donald inhaled. “We build a wall to keep each other out,” he said.

“I don’t know, I do like that we were able to communicate like this,” Della said with a frown. “Like earlier, when you practically rolled your eyes at me when Uncle Scrooge started monologuing? I like that.”

“So, not a wall?”

“No, maybe a wall. But with a window.” Della smiled, eyes shining.

“Or a door,” Donald added. “Anything to let us in when we’re knocking.”

“Wall with a door,” Della repeated. “That sounds good to me.”

“Question is, how do you build the wall?” Donald leaned to Della, a glint in his eyes. Della leaned in in response. Their magic brushed and mingled and they shared an old memory, of leaning in to each other, stifling giggles as they set a whoopie cushion on Uncle Scrooge’s seat in his study. They both froze at the memory, and their gaze hardened. They needed that wall, and they needed it fast.

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They built it brick by the proverbial brick, shaping the wall with their magic and willing each strand not to mingle together. They built a wall, somewhere they could access each other and whisper secrets with their magic, just beyond the others’ hearing. They learned to send feelings, impressions, washed out memories to form messages only they could decipher, and rejoiced when they realized, once they put their mind to it, they could send visuals to each other.

Not words. Never words, no matter how much they tried.

Donald noticed Louie glancing at them whenever they allowed their magic to connect, and he had to take a step back. When he was finally alone with Della, he asked, “Can the others read what we send each other?”

Della blinked. “I… don’t know? Why?”

“Louie kept glancing at us,” he answered. “I don’t think he understood what we were sending each other. I mean, we’re still figuring out what we’re telling each other too, but…”

“Yeah, I don’t want him to know how we managed to get Uncle Scrooge run around in the manor naked, either. Uncle Scrooge would skin us alive,” Della grimaced. “Not to mention it’s inappropriate…”

“Let’s keep things PG-13?”

“And let’s keep things like childhood pranks out. I don’t want to give them ideas.”

Donald hissed. “Ugh, yeah.” He shook his head. “The things they get into… was this how Uncle Scrooge feel like raising us? We were both little shits.”

“Must be,” Della sighed, but fondness swirled through her magic and nudged Donald’s anyway, prompting a similar reaction from his magic. “But, come on. They can’t be that bad, can they?”

“Dewey hotwired my boat and all three of them planned to go to Cape Suzette on their own, Della. They specifically waited until I needed to go for a job interview.”

Della gave a low whistle. “Oh, man. Yeah, that is a headache.”

Donald moved around her to get back to his houseboat. “They got that from you, you know.”

“Excuse you, sir, you were as much of a little shit as I was,” Della said, smiling.

“Well you gave birth to them, clearly they got it from you.”

“Well you raised them and they’re all little shits, just like you were. So who did they got it from, hm? Check and mate.”

Donald sent her a flare of annoyance and amusement mixed into one. “Look, buddy, you had your fill for the few weeks I was gone and they’re worse than ever. You’re a bad influence.”

“Whaaat? I’m just continuing the path you chose!” Della sent him the emotional equivalent of sticking her tongue out at him, and he couldn’t help – he laughed.

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The dreams continued, despite the dams they built, the distance they put, the magic they used to speak to one another, as much as feelings and impressions could speak. They kept coming, smaller in number but stronger in intensity.

The first few weeks, they laughed at it. Those dreams, disturbing as they were sometimes, were so… small compared to what they faced on the daily basis. Being late to class and forgetting your pants, wearing silly clothes and dancing in the town square… what were they, compared to fighting aliens? What were they compared to surviving on the Moon by yourself, raising three babies and holding so many – too many – jobs to keep yourself afloat? What were they compared to being a member of the Duck family?

And then, as they got better at sending feelings and impression through their link – but not at blocking, their walls still too weak, too easily broken through, the torrent of what they didn’t want to share too strong to keep in – the underlying fears leeched in. Dreams of Uncle Scrooge, buried in rubble, the triplets with red marring their feathers, too still to be asleep, of Webby screaming her throat hoarse as the world around her fell to pieces, tears spilling and running down her cheeks like rivers.

The desperation to keep the nightmare under control rose until it couldn’t be contained anymore.

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It was odd, what you learn about others from their dreams. What they fear, what they love, what they desire, all laid bare as their consciousness seeped into yours.

It was unsettling, what you learn about others as they woke from their nightmares.

Della woke up with a choked scream. It was rarely a full scream, usually stifled before it could reach any occupant of the room save for Donald. It made his breath catch as her panic seeped into his mind, their addled brains that already had fear steeping in with the nightmare jolted by the confusion thrown into the mix.

Donald woke with barely a sound. Simply eyes opening in a sudden motion, a quiet gasp in the otherwise silent night, drowned in Della’s muffled sobs. It disturbed Della, how quiet he was in sleep and in the in-between, when he had no qualms about being loud and demanding and angry when he was wide awake.

They talked about it, hovering above mugs and pots of long-cold coffee and freshly baked brownies they made from cheap brownie mixes Uncle Scrooge always scoffed at – from-scratch stuff were always better, but mixes saved time, and they didn’t want to take too much time making a ruckus in the kitchen when they only wanted something sweet.

“How come you’re so quiet when you wake up?” Della asked, spooning brownies into her mouth and glaring when her poor coordination led to the brownie falling to the kitchen counter.

“I raised three kids and I don’t want to wake them up,” Donald explained. “After the first few times, you learn how to be quiet.”

“They’re heavy sleepers though,” Della protested.

“Not really. It’s like they take turns being the light sleeper for each night,” Donald said, bringing his mug to his beak. “Huey’s usually the one that sleeps the lightest, but sometimes it’s Dewey instead. Louie usually sleeps well unless he’s got something in his mind. But once one of them wakes up, they all wake up, and they won’t sleep again until morning.” He sipped loudly and put the mug down. “So, yeah. You learn to be quiet.”

Della looked away. “Sure was tough, huh?”

“I guess.”

“I’m sorry it fell to you,” she said, staring blankly at her cold coffee. “I should have been there, and instead I was just… stuck in the Moon.” She frowned. “And now I’m playing catch up but I’ve lost ten years and I’m not going to get it back and – “ she took a deep breath and shoveled brownies into her mouth until it was impossible to speak.

“You tried to get back,” Donald noted, thinking back of their shared dreams, of Della digging through the rubble to get materials so she could rebuild the Spear, screaming in frustration when all she found was pieces and scraps. “It won’t bring back time, but… it’s something.”

“It’s something,” Della echoed. “Doesn’t feel like it, but sure, I guess.”

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The dreams started to decrease as they found a way to handle the way their magic pulled at each other as if desperate to dig into the other’s head. The wall stood tall and strong, the door opened only with a knock, and physical distance strengthened the wall that grew weaker in their sleep. It was a balance. Not ideal, sure, but a balance nonetheless, and a balance that kept getting better. If they followed the tracks they knew the nightmares would eventually stop.

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Uncle Scrooge knew about their late night coffee-and-brownies party, because of course he did. And their magic got all sorts of screwed through magical shenanigans, because of course it was. It was all par for the course of being a Duck.

They never thought magic could bear scars, but theirs did. The Void Ring left its marks on their magic, unseen by all but undeniably there. Della’s magic hung heavier on her shoulders, like a cape instead of a cloud. It grew lighter with each passing day, but it would never be the same. Donald’s magic used to envelope him in a light, encasing him from head to toe, but now it pooled under his feet if left to glow for too long, dripping, though the time it took to drip and pool grew longer every day. They both knew it was a small price to pay for survival.

And then the slew of memories came in, in the form of dreams they once had managed to keep at bay and flashes when they reached for teacups and sudden bangs when they least expect. Small things at first; changing the boys’ diapers, paragliding and skydiving, changing perspectives in shared moments that had them gripping each other dizzily.

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Della came to the houseboat in the middle of the night after a shared dream, tumbling in like a hurricane and staring at him, agape, disbelief in her eyes. She made a beeline to his closet and started rummaging through it, and took a few steps back when she found what she was looking for.

Donald reached out to her tentatively, both physically and magically. “Dell?”

Della whipped around to face him. “You’re Paperinik?!”

“Aw, phooey.”

“You didn’t think you should tell me this?”

“Dell, keep it down!”

Della’s voice dropped to a hiss. “You didn’t tell anyone about it?!”

“Well, I mean, I started going out as Paperinik because I was a little shit who did things for shits and giggles and Uncle Scrooge would blow up at the things I did, so…” Donald inhaled. “Yep. Nope. It’s a closed chapter in my life now.”

“What in the world. What even, Don.”

“…coffee and brownies?”

“Oh, definitely. Let’s go to the kitchen.”

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More memories came in, gripping them in the shoulders and screaming to their faces without showing signs of letting go.

They walled them up as well as they could, repairing the dam though it kept cracking and breaking, and talked well into the night with mugs of coffee and tins of brownies.

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The next time, it was Donald’s turn to come into Della’s room, struggling to keep silent so as to not wake the kids. He barged in without bothering to knock, knowing Della was awake and waiting for him.

He sat on her bed, refusing to look at her. “You didn’t tell me your husband was a giant ass,” he said at last, when he was sure he wouldn’t scream his words.

“Well I don’t want my brother to be committing murder in the streets,” Della said with a shrug. “I handled it. Besides, it’s… what did you say it was? A closed chapter in my life, I think?”

Donald huffed. “I still don’t like it.”

Della shifted and put her hand on his arm, flaring her magic in invitation, sending the cooling warmth of a mug of coffee and the sweetness of chocolate through their magic, ending it with a question.

Donald sighed and nodded. “Coffee and brownies. Yeah.”

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Uncle Scrooge found them blearily waking up in the kitchen the next morning, just as the sun started to peek out of its hiding place.

“There are better places to sleep than in the kitchen,” he said as the twins blinked at him. He glanced at the mugs of coffee and the empty tins that once held brownies. “Why do you drink coffee at night? This is what happens if you drink it at night instead of in the morning.”

“It’s not like we were going to sleep again after getting a shared dream,” Della said, rubbing her eyes. “Might as well drink coffee.”

Uncle Scrooge sighed, long and hard. “I told you to come to me if this persists,” he said.

“We’re handling it,” Donald said as he massaged the crick in his neck.

“This isn’t handling it,” Uncle Scrooge said, gripping his cane so hard it seemed the wood would creak. “Drinking coffee at 2 A.M and eating tins of brownies, however small the tins… that’s not handling it.” He sat on the table, by Della’s side. “You could have tried something. We have valerian tea to help you sleep. Warm milk and honey. Hot chocolate!”

“We were handling it,” Donald insisted. “Things were on a good track until that ring.”

“The ring?”

“It… disturbed the balance.” Della sipped her coffee, made a face, and spat it back out into the mug. Donald sent her a wave of disgust and she glared at him as she poured the mug’s content into the sink. “We started sharing memories when we sleep and it’s kind of annoying. But it’s similar to when we started sharing dreams, I think we can handle this.”

“Should I get you the Orb of Remedies, then?”

Della sent Donald a look, poking him with a question that he mirrored. They both shrugged. “It’s okay, we’re handling it,” Donald assured.

“Just… talk to me. If it gets worse, talk to me. I want to help,” Uncle Scrooge said, and the twins felt a clench of guilt in their guts. They weren’t sure who it was from.

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It got worse before it got better.

Donald ran to the docks at night in Paperinik’s suit, weaving through the alleys and punching creeps in the face in hope that the fatigue would keep him asleep and keep the nightmares and memories back.

His fatigue leeched through the bond and seeped into Della instead, and she received every single detail of the fight in their dream that night.

He didn’t stop going out as Paperinik, but he stopped going until he felt he couldn’t stand.

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They went on another adventure with Uncle Scrooge and the kids, and they knew they were barely keeping it together when their gazes flickered and they switched places. They barely kept their screams in, surprised at the sudden change to a body that wasn’t theirs but they knew all too well. They flickered back immediately to their own place, feeling their own magic churning with something odd and unfamiliar.

The ring left its mark on them. They just didn’t know how bad until they were yanked out of their bodies and shoved back in unceremoniously.

Later, Donald sent Della impressions and feelings, after this is done.

Della’s rebuttal was quick. Disagreement and pressing urgency; No, better be as quick as possible.

Donald repeated what he sent Della, and Della finally sighed, conceding. There wasn’t much they could do, with them being on a plane going to the ruins Scrooge had located the next treasure he wanted to nab.

Uncle Scrooge had shown more and more interest in magical treasures lately. Before, he went out just for the fun of it, for bragging rights, for the adrenaline. Ever since the kids’ magic became apparent and the twins’ intermingled more, he began actively searching for magical artifacts. He brought the Orb of Remedies basically everywhere, and the twins were grateful for it. it had proven useful in their many misadventures. It did have the unfortunate downside of making Dewey even more reckless than usual, but Donald was more than capable of curbing that.

This particular object, the Mirror of Breaking, apparently had the power to break curses on anything that was reflected on its glass-covered bronze face, framed by circular bronze that was decorated with golden leaves. The frame was tarnished, but it could be cleaned easily enough. Neither of the twins knew why Uncle Scrooge was so interested in it and why he was so adamant about getting it; most of the things he accumulated in the years of adventuring were cursed and his idea of dealing with the curses was to stick them into his garage and forget about them.

They didn’t participate much in the conversations. They hadn’t in a while, too wrapped up in their messed up magic and the taint the ring had left in them. The sky and the sea met halfway in the horizon and worked to slough off the corruption, but it was a slow process, and they weren’t sure if they had enough time to work on it. They’d gotten good with reading the impressions and feelings, and sending visuals was as easy as snapping fingers at this point, and that mastery over their bond helped with keeping the corruption at bay, but not by much.

Donald sent a flurry of visuals and impressions, framing the question, Do you think the memory sharing and the switching is because of the corrosion?

Della answered immediately, I hope so, because that means once the corrosion is gone we’ll be good as new.

Donald sighed. Hopefully.

Apparently, the mirror sat prettily in a ruins of a castle, where the only way to reach it would be through a tiny sliver of road in between cliffs, with gaping maw of rocks below. They managed to get to the castle without any incident, miraculously enough, and stepped foot in the safer grounds where rose bushes had overgrown so much the door to the castle was blocked by thorns.

“The wall over there is all crumbled,” Louie pointed out to the side. “Maybe we can go through there instead.”

“Oh, good eye!” Uncle Scrooge praised, and they went through the crumbled walls.

The castle was no more than partial walls overgrown by vines and bushes by this point, with moss covering the stones and roots peeking from the floors. Uncle Scrooge led them through the now-open corridors into what would have been the main hall of the castle, where a single podium stood in the middle of the room with the blue sky towering over it. The mirror at atop the podium, silent and waiting, and Dewey ran ahead to take it.

“Wait, hold on – “ Donald called out, but Dewey had already reached the podium and held up the mirror. Nothing happened.

Dewey looked around. “Well, that’s… anticlimactic,” he settled at last.

“Yeah, this isn’t following the usual pattern and I don’t like it,” Louie said, looking around warily.

“Adventuring isn’t about patterns, Louie. Not everything follows a pattern,” Uncle Scrooge said, walking over to study the mirror, still in Dewey’s hands. “Besides, there were texts that consider the mirror useless. Something about the magic not activating properly or needing blood sacrifice.”

“Excuse me but did you say blood sacrifice? Whose blood are we talking about here?” Huey piped up.

“The mirror’s holder, naturally,” Uncle Scrooge answered all too nonchalantly, turning to Dewey when he squawked in surprise. “Don’t worry, the texts says you should drip your blood to its back. We can see some dark stains there but it’s not like you’re bleeding.”

“I guess it’s fine, then?” Huey muttered uncertainly, taking the mirror from Dewey’s hold and turning it around in his hands. “Is this real gold?” he asked, brushing his fingers against the golden leaves, careful to avoid the dark stains at the mirror’s back.

Louie hummed, hovering near and holding his hand out over the mirror. “I think it is,” he said, tilting his head and reaching out to touch it. “It’s tarnished and it feels like it’s not… pure? But I think it’s real – ow!” he jumped back, hand trembling, as Huey yelped in surprise when the mirror slipped from his hold. He tried to catch it again, but it escaped his hold anyway, rushing to the ground.

Webby managed to catch it before it hit the mossy stone floor. She stared at Louie. “What? What’s wrong?”

Louie grunted, holding his trembling hand in his free one, and reached to the khopesh he strapped to his back. Della drew a sharp breath, suddenly alarmed at how Louie’s shaking had the khopesh rattling, worried that he was seized by some sort of leftover curse on the mirror, but instead the contact to the weapon seemed to calm Louie and still his hand. He breathed and looked at the mirror. “You don’t feel that? It was like I got zapped by Dewey’s magic, but worse.”

“No? I don’t feel anything,” Webby said, pulling herself to her feet. She turned to Huey and Dewey. “Guys?”

“No,” Dewey answered, while Huey shook his head.

Uncle Scrooge hummed in thought as Della and Donald made their way to Louie, Donald strapping the khopesh back to Louie’s back as Della studied his still-trembling fingers. “Maybe it’s related to the mirror’s lore. The blood sacrifice. Louie, do you have a cut on your hand anywhere?”

“Not that I know of,” Louie answered, the same time as Della gave a decisive no.

“Okay, so not blood,” Uncle Scrooge mused. “Magic?”

“We didn’t get that sort of reaction,” Huey pointed out. “So it can’t be magic.”

“Louie? Are you okay?” Della asked, gently folding Louie’s fingers into hers. Her magic, mingled as it was with Donald’s, pressed into his and sent phantom chill of Louie’s hands into his, and he frowned in worry.

“My hand fell asleep and I can’t really feel anything there,” Louie admitted. “I think it’s the mirror, I felt something spike when I touch it.”

“Magically?” Donald pressed. Louie looked at him and nodded.

Their concern simmered together and intensified. Della whipped back to Uncle Scrooge. “Let’s go back, Uncle Scrooge,” she requested. “We’ve got the mirror.”

“We still have a whole castle to explore – “

“Uncle Scrooge, Louie touched that mirror for maybe a millisecond and his hand fell asleep. The mirror obviously affected him,” Della said, chasing Uncle Scrooge’s gaze with her own. “You already know magic damage can be fatal. Let’s get back to the plane and have him hold the orb. I know you have it with you.”

There were times when all those frankly astonishing number of years Uncle Scrooge had walked the earth turned into mere five when he was excited about adventure, and this was clearly one of them. He had been focused on getting the mirror before, but once they got it, he looked like a child ready to explore the unknown, and both Della and Donald stared at him in their shared, simmering alarm wanting him to agree to get back immediately.

He seemed to understand their concern, though, as he agreed. They made their way back to the plane, where Launchpad was waiting, once again making their way through the tiny road and trying to ignore the rocks below. Uncle Scrooge handed the orb to Louie, apparently having it in his pocket, telling him to be careful not to drop it.

They miraculously managed to get through the trip unscathed when they headed into the castle. Not so with the trip back.

Maybe it was the fatigue after going for so long, or maybe he stepped on a rock, or maybe it was just plain bad luck, but Huey slipped and careened to the side dangerously. Just as the others stretched out their hands to catch him, his feet left the ground and he plummeted down.

Instincts and reflexes alone drove Donald to jump after him, mind blank but for the pleads to keep him safe and the ring of his scream. He had half the mind to send Della an impression of jumping, help me that he haphazardly threw together just before he jumped, chased by the kids’ surprised and panicked yells and Della’s high pitched screech. He managed to grab Huey in midair and folded his small body into his, hugging him into his chest as he positioned himself underneath Huey to absorb the impact of the fall if he ended up crashing.

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They say that moments before you die your whole life flashes in your mind, and time stretched just so you could see all that flash of memory.

Donald didn’t see that. Not a flash of his whole life rehashed in its sick reminder of what he had and hadn’t done, but he could feel Della’s feelings, anger at his recklessness and concern and desperate to grab them both.

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Donald sent her a visual of him jumping, into a gaping black maw underneath him. It was accompanied by urgency and a soft plea. She had barely any time to process what he meant, and when she understood it was all she could do not to cuss him out then and there, because he was already jumping off and she could barely catch his tail feathers from the air. Instead she screamed, disbelieving and angry and so terribly afraid.

Della managed to grab Donald and Huey just moments before they crashed to the unforgiving rocks and landed them harmlessly on the bottom of the cliff.

And then the force of her anger and the sheer bludgeoning power of her relief slammed into their bond, and they reeled, gaze flickering and switching, switching, switching.

Della didn’t care. Through the switch-switch-switch, she glared at her twin – his face, her face, his face again, back at hers – and yelled, “Are you out of your mind?!”

Her voice mixed with Donald’s as they kept switching, from her high pitched scream to his scratchy screech and back again. Huey stared with wide uncomprehending eyes, leaning back as he held his arms up as if trying to shield himself. If she saw, it didn’t register.

“What were you – what were you thinking?!” she continued the tirade, still switching, and there was a wave of nausea underneath all the anger and the rotten magic. “Just jumping like that, without even telling me? I can fly! I can do the jumping!”

“I told you I was jumping!”

“You barely gave me time to even process – what the duck, Donald!”

“Oh, like you barely gave us time to process the fact that you went to space in an untested space ship?” Donald threw back, and it was so jarring, to hear those biting words in his and her voices at once, to be pinned by that poisonous gaze worn by a face she knew best and a face she saw in the mirrors.

She reeled, but she threw back anyway, “Going in a space ship isn’t the same as jumping off a cliff without any gear!”

“I don’t care if I died as long as my family is safe.”

“Oh, shut up! You don’t care if you died?! What about the others, do you think the kids wouldn’t care if you died?!”

“Better me than them – “

“Stop!” Huey’s voice rang out loudly, and they shut up, looking at him and his tumultuous magic. “What’s going on? Why do you keep… switching?”

The question stopped the wave of anger and replaced it with still dread, then they exchanged a quick glance as their magic flared and mixed, switch-switch-switch still, throwing questions back and forth and probing and feeling and realizing.

“It’s gotten worse,” he whispered.

“You think?” she bit back, but there was no heat behind it. She reached to his hand and he reached back, clasping, and letting their magic mingle some more until it settled and they stopped flickering back and forth.

“How long has this been going on?” Huey asked.

“A while,” Della admitted. “We thought we had it handled, but it’s worse than we thought.”

Donald swallowed bile in his throat, holding his beak shut in one hand to keep it from coming up. When it settled, he sighed. “Let’s get back up. We need to use that orb. The corrosion is worse than I thought.”

“Wait a minute – a while? How long is a while? How come we don’t know about this?” Huey demanded.

“Uncle Scrooge knows,” Della said, standing up. “We convinced him we had it handled. Come on, I can carry you both.”

With Donald on his back and Huey at her chest, she called to her magic and buried her ire at how it felt brittle and heavy. She managed to fly them back to safety all the same, the trail of while behind them looking like heavy rain cloud instead of a sliver of white mist that bloomed into plumes.

They landed just by the plane, and not too long after Uncle Scrooge arrived with the rest of the kids. Launchpad hovered around them, seemingly able to sense they weren’t in the mood to chat.

As soon as Uncle Scrooge was in sight, Huey perked up, yelling, “Uncle Scrooge! Come quick, Mom and Uncle Donald aren’t in good shape!”

“Oh, phooey. He’s gonna be mad,” Della groaned. Donald’s agreement wafted in through their mingled magic.

“Their magic is weird and they kept switching places earlier!” Huey babbled as soon as Uncle Scrooge was close enough. “Their magic kind of mixes and it’s just – weird, like it’s much heavier than it’s supposed to be, and – “

“Huey, it’s fine,” Donald assured. He met Uncle Scrooge’s gaze for a split second and looked away. “It’s just… the aftermath of the ring.”

“But you keep switching, and – “

Della looked up just in time to see Uncle Scrooge’s expression shuttered close, like it always did when he went livid. She gulped as he asked, low and slow, “I thought I told you to tell me if things gets worse.”

“We didn’t think it would be this bad,” Della muttered.

Somehow, the long exhale Uncle Scrooge let out was so much more devastating than if he had screamed at them. He turned at Louie and said, “Louie, is your hand okay?”

Louie blinked at him. “Uh, um… it’s okay now, I can feel things and it’s not trembling anymore.”

“That’s good. Give the orb to Della and Donald, okay? We’ll go soon.”

Louie obeyed instantly, purposefully making a wide berth from Webby, who held the mirror in her hands. He handed the orb to Donald, wincing when their magic brushed, and stepped back with an uneasy look in his face.

“Louie?” Donald called uncertainly.

“Please fix your magic. It’s… not good,” the youngest whispered.

“How does it feel like?”

Louie shook his head, frowning. “Like… like rot.”

Donald inhaled and nodded, waving Louie to go into the plane. The orb sat on his palm, and he offered it to Della with a single glance. Della clasped her hand over it, and they held hands with the orb right between them as they walked up the ramp into the plane, following the rest of their family.

It was funny, how neither of them realized how nauseous their own magic had been making them until the mending properties of the orb took that away.

Apparently, it showed in their outward appearance, too, because Uncle Scrooge took one look at them, snorted, and gestured as he turned to the kids, saying, “And this, children, is why you communicate and ask for help when you have a problem you can’t resolve by yourself.”

Della gasped dramatically. “Uncle Scrooge! How could you, in front of my kids?”

“It’s a good life lesson for them, Della.”

“I mean, yeah, but you didn’t have to say it that way.”

Louie peered over. “Wait, where’s the orb?”

“In here,” Donald answered, holding up his and Della’s clasped hand. A memory resurfaced in his mind, and he smiled, sending the feelings and impressions to Della through their bond. The corrosion had knocked their walls down that the communication was almost too easy, and now that the orb was mending their magic they knew building a new boundary would be much easier and stronger without needing a harsher separation.

Della received his message and laughed. At the kids’ questioning look, she explained, “We used to do this all the time when we were kids. Taking things and hiding it in our hands like this, I mean. And we used to hold hands a lot, so people don’t think much on it.”

Uncle Scrooge sighed in exasperation. “They’re half the reason I’m very protective of my dime.”

Webby gasped. “You stole the dime?!”

“And many others!” Della bragged. “And we got the dime multiple times.”

“We were troublemakers when we were kids,” Donald said with a smirk, then he directed his gaze to the triplets. “Which is why I know to stop you before you do anything. I can tell.”

“Wait, give me a list on what pranks you pulled and tell me in detail how you got to do what you did,” Dewey asked immediately. Huey pulled out his Junior Woodchuck Guidebook and clicked a pen open next to him.

Uncle Scrooge, likely foreseeing a disaster in the future if the twins’ successful heists were to be revealed to the triplets, shut that down immediately. “Alright now, you can discuss that later. Let’s get back to Duckburg now.”

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They realized, as the orb kept mending and restoring and purifying their tainted magic, that the first time they did it the process was cut short when they let go of the orb in favor of turning to the sky and the sea to replenish their magic. The sky and the sea did indeed replenish their magic, but they were not capable of purification the way the orb was capable of.

This time, they made sure to keep the orb on their person until the last hint of corrosion was purged out of their system.

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That night, for the first time in a while, they burst with so much energy and excitement that Della went for a midnight flight, dancing with the clouds, while Donald donned his suit once more to go toe to toe with the new onslaught of villains that started to sprout in Duckburg’s streets.

For the first time, their shared dreams was filled with laughter and warmth instead of screeching metal and fear.

[mcsmmafia]

Round IX of MC:SM Mafia 👥

THE 9TH ROUND OF MAFIA

What you did was go exploring and discovering new worlds, new stories. Yet, you never expected to end up in a place as strange as this.

Endermen… just… endermen everywhere! You have never seen anything comparable! Well, besides the end, but… this was a swamp! Anyhow, there was something in the wind. Something familiar, yet so odd… you just couldn’t put your finger on it.

Luckily, as you made your way through the wetland – constantly looking down on your feet to avoid triggering any of these oversensitive social phobics –, you hit your head right into an entrance door of a big mansion. Oh, it should be well lit in there – and that would mean that you could finally lift your head again! Seriously, your neck started to hurt badly.

So you knocked, and to your relief, someone opened it.

A person, completely covered in black and wearing a big, white pumpkin on their head, was this someone. You could see long, vividly red hair coming out of it. It reminded you of something… wait.

You turned around to glance at the swamp you were in- which was a bad idea.

Thousands of endermen were staring at you, as you stared back… your glance captured by theirs… if you would look away just for one second-

"Here, this pumpkin will shield your eyes from meeting the endermen’s!", the resident yelled and put it right on as you continued to stand there, petrified.

It should’ve helped, but… the endermen… just… continued to… to… stare…

"Alright, are you gonna come inside or what?", the resident asked. But you didn’t dare to move.

So they pulled you inside with force, and closed the door behind you.

"There, you’re safe in here. We have food, we have beds, everything you need. I don’t know myself where all these endermen are coming from, they just started to appear out of nowhere this evening… but anyway, do you happen to have a green flint & steel?"

You had to look out of the window – there it was, still watching you.

"Hellooo… are you listening??"

Those magenta, creepy, soul-eating eyes…

"Hey, I’m talking to you, I need the FLINT & STEEL!"

Even though they were not torturing physically, mentally, you could feel your sanity fading away…

"Urgh, FINE! You try one time to be nice, and this is what you get…"

You shrieked and nearly tripped turning around as you heard footsteps – oh, it was from the stranger… as they walked away… wait. The red hair, the mansion in the swamp- this person must be CASSIE ROSE!!! AND THERE WAS NO ESCAPE!!!

Dear guests, it is time. T

o hide.

BEFORE THEY STEAL YOUR SOUL!

But maybe there’s someone else you shouldn’t have triggered…

~

Story note: Ellegaard finally had managed to craft a command block and after all these years of research and trying, she wanted to try it out so badly – but since the whole wither sturm event, the use of command blocks was banned in her dimension. So, what else to do than visit new dimensions to experiment with her command block!

However, she was really unhappy when she realized that the first world she hopped into was in a swamp, near nightfall… urgh! How she hated these slimes – oh, yes, that’d be the perfect use of her new command block! Just… set the biom to… end… there we go, that should solve the problem!

…Wait, why are suddenly thousands of endermen appearing out of nowhere-

☀ Results of Day 1:

Harper wished everyone a good morning.

🌑 Results of Night 1:

Well, yes, endermen are kinda creepy, but for everyone to be this reticant… they were really overreacting, in Harper’s humble opinion! …Or were they? The more she thought about it, the more unsure she became – and as she peeked outside the window and met an enderman’s eyes, she suddenly was so petrified she couldn’t even move! She loosened from her rigidity when she heard a sardonic meow behind her. Dang it, that darn kitty stayed with her! She tried to pick him up, only for him to leave a quite aching wound on her hands. "Ow! Stupid cat!" Anyway, Winslow being here can’t mean good news, so she stayed alert and ready to fight.

Seriously, though… how rude of everyone! How rude to not answer a simple question, on which CASSIE’s life depended on… Looks like sje had to get the FLINT & STEEL the hard way, so she made her way to the living room and thought about her next action. Not being too glad being all alone, she decided to stake everything on one room: The kitchen. Meanwhile, Winslow would prevent anyone from coming to the entrance hall. It was the perfect plan! …Except that it didn’t work out. Not in the slighest. Dang it!

…Yeah, if anyone caught the wind of Ellegaard’s command block- they would throw them out to deal with them. That could not happen. So she participated in the big silence and sneaked off to the dining room when no one was looking. Luckily, nobody followed her, so she could exhale and… wait, what if someone comes here!? She considered activating a trap, but then again, she didn’t really want to kill someone innocent. But, then again… she needed to defend herself! Although, how would she be able to defend herself when she had to deal with neck tension from sleeping on chairs? And so the decision was made: She would rest well in the bed chamber and deal with all her problems later!

Oh, Gabriel was not scared of no mobs, especially not endermen! But he was kinda intrigued by the idea of just staring at someone the whole night… maybe he should try it for himself? Hopefully Lukas won’t mind if he stared at him for a bit! Lukas sure seemed to be super afraid to sleep in the dark. "You can’t just cover all the windows, it’s the only light source!", they yelled at Stacy. "I can’t sleep without lights on!" Somehow, that did persuade Stacy to not cover up all the windows with books, and Lukas went to sleep, probably very soothed from knowing he won’t have endermen nightmares tonight. He slept through until morning, unlike Gabriel.

Endermen are terrifying, so as soon as night fell, Lukas went to hide in the library and cuddled Dewey to calm his nerves. He was even more terrified when he noticed Stacy trying to cover up all windows with books. "You can’t do that, the windows are our only light sources!", he yelled. "I can’t sleep without lights on!" Somehow, that successfully dissuade Stacy from actually doing it, so Lukas could go to sleep without having to worry about nightmares from those endermen. Yay for him!

Maya liked to act as if she didn’t have any fears, but, to be honest… endermen are super scary! In fact, she was so frightened by them, she couldn’t even move… so she continued to stare outside to the window when everyone else was going to hide somewhere else. When she realized that she was still here, standing in front of the window, she recovered herself and looked around. Oh no, Winslow was here, that’s not good… she should better flee to the attic while she still could! …She thought to herself and headed to the door, but she saw the source of all problem already being in the hallway, waiting to scratch any bypassers. No way she would try to deal with him!

Shudder… endermen are scary, but luckily Stacy had Wink to protect her back. Still, she couldn’t stand to see what was going on outside any longer, so she went somewhere where she could cover the windows with a load of books – the library! Ugh, the nerves of some people. "You can’t just cover all the windows, it’s the only light source!", "I can’t sleep without lights on!" Lukas sure was determined to not let Stacy have some peace, so she tried to keep herself busy brewing potions all night.

☀ Results of Day 2:

Harper thanked the goodness for zero deaths today, then got upset saying Winslow was with her. The grown kitty sneered at her and jumped up on a shelf, where he could watch her undisturbed. Harper considered drawing her stone sword, but revealing that she had a weapon wasn’t worth it for this good-forsaken felinae after all. 😼

Instead, she questioned everyone about their whereabouts. Gabriel and Ellegaard answered, also stating who was with them. Stacy then asked if anyone was with Harper, and Harper confirmed that Maya was with her.

🌒 Results of Night 2:

The kitty didn’t do anything… for now. But will he continue following Harper? Only one way to find out – to the bed chamber! And, look at that, she was alone there… oh, no, nevermind, here comes Maya- Her gladness over Winslow not having followed her quickly faded when she saw Maya’s pumpkin-head. She has been following Harper around it seems, and that could only be a bad sign… or coincidence. Either way, since Harper was pretty tired, she just asked her to not kill her and went to bed. And, to her relief, it turned out to not have been too much to ask for after all!

After the disaster that was the first night, CASSIE was determined to do it better this time around, so she told Winslow to stay put and went back to the living room. Oooh, nice party here! Three traps for three people, she couldn’t have wished for better conditions! Now, she only had to hope that they’ll be good and go to sleep, so CASSIE’s traps could hit… and- they did! Well, one of them, anyway.

Ellegaard wondered if it was a good idea after all to reveal exactly where she had been last night… welp, another problem she would deal with when she crossed that path! For now, though, she figured the best idea was to stay in the entrance hall and observe – no, not the endermen, that was a bad idea. Instead, she stared Winslow into his evil green eyes… and shivered! Looks like he won’t go away! She pondered about how to get away from this fluffy yet deadly little tomcat, but figuring that he won’t let her leave anyway, she concluded that the best thing to do right now was to have a little sleepless slumber party with him. Come here, Winslow! Come huuug!!! She chased after him for the whole night. Darn, he’s fast…!

After the enlightening results from stalking Lukas last night, Gabriel decided to do it again. Maybe if he kept stalking him, he could figure out who he really was! So he followed him to the living room and was surprised to see CASSIE and Stacy there, too. Anyway, back to business! Gabriel sat down and stared into Lukas’s very soul – well, for the first few hours, anyway. Slowly but surely, he had to blink with increasing frequency, and longer, and eventually, he drifted off to sleep… …When he clearly shouldn’t have, as he was awakened not by the first rays of sunlight, but by an heavy anvil dropping right onto his head, squashing him into pieces! Ouch!

Lukas had a good, enderman-free visit to the land of dreams, but as soon as he was awaken by the first rays of sunlight, he remembered why he felt uncomfortable in this world. He nervously awaited the end of the conversations in the entrance hall, and headed to the living room to find several people there too! Even though pumpkin faces surely aren’t as terrifying as those of endermen, Lukas wasn’t exactly glad to have this many people around him, so he snuck away to the hallway and hid there, hugging Dewey and nervously waiting for the sun to rise. Luckily, it eventually did, with nothing happening at all… or so he thought-

Last time, Maya missed her entry and had to bear the consequences – but that would not happen a second time! And because she was pretty tired from last night, she chose the best room to go to: The bed chamber! Oh, of course, Harper had to be there, too… she seemed pretty suspicious of Maya, even asking her ever so kindly to not murder her. …It kinda made Maya feel strong and superior, she liked it! Anyway, she didn’t have any murderous plans for now, so she went to bed and enjoyed the beautifully tender mattress.

Fine, so Stacy guessed that the library was where Lukas wanted to stay, but pillows will probably also do as a window cover, so she went to the living room and – OH C’MON!!! She really didn’t want to have another mindless discussion of "Oh, but I need light!" and "You vampire!", so Stacy skedaddled to the attic instead. Luckily, nobody else was there, so she could save her potion of swiftness, too. And THERE WERE NO WINDOWS! Killing three birds with one stone!!!

Gabriel was hit by a trap and died!

☀ Results of Day 3:

Harper asked everybody around who has got a pet and who hasn’t. Stacy, Ellegaard and CASSIE answered, all three technically honestly – although CASSIE at first claimed to not have a pet, but quickly corrected themself. Harper therefore concluded that Stacy and CASSIE were safe.   Stacy however reminded her that they could be lying. Despite a friendly reminder from the voice from up above that closets don’t lie, nobody used their voting rights. Lukas claimed to have a pet, too, and Stacy vouched for that.

🌓 Results of Night 3:

Welp, three people have claimed to have a pet… and Harper was not one of them. Uh-oh. Anyway, since she couldn’t decide who to put into a closet, she decided to stay extra safe tonight and headed to the attic – and was relieved to note that no one followed her this time! Relieved, she went to sleep. Until next morning…

Ha! Not only did Harper believe CASSIE’s claim even after she quickly rectified it, the guests also didn’t vote anyone into the closet. How gullible they were! With a slight change to her strategy, CASSIE went back to the living room and sent Winslow to stay in the kitchen. And she was alone – which was only for the better! She set off traps in the library, gallery and dining room. And, the next morning…

It’s a bad thing that Ellegaard is among the suspects, but at least she didn’t get stuck into a closet. Well, actually, no one did… which in turn was a bad thing. But she had a plan – if anyone followed her into the bed chamber, she could set off a trap if she didn’t feel comfortable with them. …And oh my, someone did! At first, she was glad about the company, but in the end she didn’t feel safe around someone who cleary wasn’t a pet owner and wouldn’t respond to her, so she fled to the attic. Until next morning…

Okay, this time, Lukas would seek peace in a room where probably nobody would go to, because of the double traps risk – the dining room! But, of course, Stacy was there… and if that wasn’t enough, she immediately went and hugged his cat. Excuse me, Stacy!? – Wink is yelping for attention! Suspicious of Stacy’s behavior, he signaled Dewey to go sleep on her chest and went to sleep himself. Until, suddenly in the middle of the night…

Maya didn’t want to actively admit that she didn’t have a pet – she really hated narrow spaces, and maybe if she didn’t say anything, the others wouldn’t notice she was even there… It actually did seem to have worked, surprisingly. Nobody said anything… so she sneakily followed Ellegaard to the bed chamber, ready to play the silent detective tonight. She will stalk her until she knows her! But when she entered the room, she suddenly had a serious case of absentmindedness and forgot what she wanted to do at all. She spent the whole night trying to remember, until the next morning…

Being well-rested, Stacy figured she would endure the consequences one more time and actively followed Lukas to end up in the dining room with him. It was all for the kitty – yes, Dewey, you’re who she was talking about! Lukas gave her a confused-slightly worried look as she went and hugged his cat – and Wink yelped jealously. He will definitely forgive her, but still – how could she!?! After a good pet, she went to sleep satisfied. Until next morning…

The Last Night

He felt stared at… watched. Lukas suddenly awoke in the middle of the night, panting, as he had a nightmare about endermen chasing and dismantling him. But even the calming essence of Stacy’s dog beneath him wasn’t enough to calm him down… something wasn’t right-

He suddenly felt the urge to turn around and look at the painting of the chicken jockey behind him. It had never scared him as much as in this moment.

And now he knew why.

Where there used to be two empty, black sockets staring at the viewer’s soul, there were suddenly big, red pupils, staring into Lukas’s widened eyes. And then, in the next moment-

He couldn’t see anything, nor hear anything but a beaming sound, nor feel anything but pain as the red dots revealed themselves to be lasers, blinding Lukas and burning his hair, skin and body alive. It was faster than Lukas could even scream.

Wink of course barked as if there was no tomorrow, but the blinding laser light was too bright for Stacy to see. And then, the next morning…  

"Guys, GUYS! Lukas is dead! DEAD-"

"Dead!?"

Harper, Ellegaard and Maya were shocked to hear the news Stacy had told.

"Dead-dead! I heard Wink barking in the middle of the night, there was this bright, red light- I don’t know exactly what happened, but I couldn’t find his drops in the morning, so it must have been a TRAP! All that’s survived is his cat, which I was cuddling this night…", Stacy said and took poor orphan Dewey into her arms. Wink whined sympathetically.

"I can’t believe it… who could do this, and why?! WHY!?, Harper cried. Then, suddenly-

"Oh, c’mon, you know exactly why.", CASSIE said, throwing something shiny in their hand up and down. Actually, it was the Flint & Steel-

"CASSIE!", Stacy screamed, well aware that this could only mean one conclusion. CASSIE must’ve been the one setting off the traps that killed Gabriel and Lukas!

"How could you", she continued, "you soulless monster, you absolute bastard, you never-forgiveable creature-”

"Hey now, listen! When I invited y’all to my mansion, I asked each and everyone of you for the Flint & Steel – completely pacifically, mind you – and no one, not a single person was kind enough to answer a simple question after I’ve just saved y’all from a bunch of endermen. What else should I have done??"

The guests were about to argue back, when suddenly, out of nowhere-

"It’s all my fault", Ellegaard confessed.

"…What?", everyone asked in union.

"It’s my fault those endermen appeared everywhere… I’ll show you how. But first, Cassie, can you crack my pumpkin?"  

"Umm… excuse me?"

"Just do it, please.", Ellegaard asked ever so politely.

Cassie pulled out her diamond axe, slowly approached Ellegaard and awkwardly but gently strikes them right on front.

"Ow – That suffices, thank you…", Ellegaard said as she broke apart the pumpkin pieces and revealed her face – it was Ellegaard!  

"Ellegaard!? What are you doing there-", Maya asked, more than surprised.

"Well, it’s uh, a long story. – But that’s beside the point. I have a little explanation to do. So…", she took a deep breath and revealed what no one had expected.

"So, after years of research and hard work, I have finally managed to craft… this."

She brang out something some of them had never seen before – a real, blinking command block! Everyone gasped at the sight-

"Why’re you all gasping? What is that?", Cassie asked unimpressed.

"It’s a command block", Ellegaard answered. Cassie’s eyes widened.

"But isn’t that-"

"Extremely rare and powerful? Why, yes, it is." She put it on the ground.

"You’re telling me you crafted that!?"  

"I did", Ellegaard proudly responded, quickly followed by a rueful "And that’s the reason why this world is now overflowing with endermen – see, command blocks are forbidden in my world since a certain… incident, so I came to this world, hoping to be able to experiment a bit with it… but it all derailed when I wanted the swamp to end – suddenly, endermen started to spawn everywhere!"

"You set the biome to… the end?", Harper asked surprised. "Well, yeah, I was just trying to – wait… I set the biome to end… to end… to THE end… Oooooh.", Ellie facepalmed herself as the realization sank in. "Now I know what’s going on! Those endermen started spawning because they think it’s their home land!"

"Just set it to the plains or something. Can’t be too hard if you already done it once, right?", Harper suggested.

"Oh my, yes of course- how did I not think of that! Thank you so much!!", Ellegaard said and started typing into the command block.

But before she could finish, Cassie spoke again.

"Enough talking. I’m leaving!"

"Stop right there! We’re still gonna take revenge for Lukas!!", Stacy yelled and ran to grab her arm.

"Let – go – or do I have to resort to more murder!?", Cassie shouted, but Stacy didn’t let go.

"We’ll see who has the upper hand!", Stacy yelled and threw a light blue potion onto Dewey and Wink – was that… a potion of swiftness?

"Wink, Dewey, go and GET HER!"

With that, the two family-friendly pets turned into killing machines and jumped onto Cassie.

"AhhHHHH- Winslow, WINSLOW!", Cassie screamed as she fell onto the floor, dropping her axe and covering her face with her arms.

As called, Winslow appeared – and with him, about one thousand of loudly meowing calico cats. They jumped down from shelves, windows, cabinets – THEY WERE EVERYWHERE! 😼 😼😼😼😼😼😼😼😼

"AHHH! SO MANY EYES! THEY’RE EATING MY SOUL-", Maya freaked out.

"Wink! Dewey! Hang on there-", Stacy wheezed, grabbed Cassie’s diamond axe and swallowed another potion of swiftness. Then, she tried to lift the heavy axe and release it onto Cassie, but Winslow and the thousand other kittys punced onto her, oppressing her by pure weight.

"OWW-", Sea screamed as they all extended their claws and scratched her good. This caused Wink and Dewey to let Cassie be and instead try to help Stacy, but the felinae were too many-

"Good thing I still have THIS-", Cassie said and revealed a bow and arrows, shooting down Harper, Ellegaard and Maya, who where just standing there, watching in terror. Then, she set a big fire in front of them and whistled her cat back.

"Winslow, come here, we’re going home tonight!"

Winslow and the other cats quickly followed, gracefully jumping over the green flames that circumvented Stacy and the others.

"Bye, suckers!"

And with that, the whole mansion and everything burned down. Meanwhile, the sun outside was shining again and endermen started to disappear, like they would on a normal plains biome.

And what happened to the command block, which was inflammable? Well, Cassie didn’t care.

CASSIE has won the game! 👥

[callme--starchild]

Observer

If enough attention was paid to each Duck triplet, it was remarkable that, while together they were a recognizable team, independents had their own strengths.

The triplet dressed in red was intelligent and temperamental. You constantly saw her in the public library, writing in her guidebook or accompanying her Woodchuck troop. It is who mostly participates in classes.

The triplet dressed in blue was the energetic, theater kid. You constantly saw him in the school plays or surrounded by people both in the classroom and in the cafeteria. It is who, in turn, participates more in P.E.

And the triplet dressed in green was schematic and greedy. You constantly saw him in the halls with his cellphone, chatting with students in a discreet attempt to defraud them or simply observing his surroundings parsimoniously. He's the most relaxed, but who had the highest average in math.

It could be said that Dahlia always knew what to say — unless she should lie, of course. Dewford always knew when to act.

On the other hand, Llewellyn always knew how to act.

He didn't know if he went oblivious or they just ignored him, but the occasions when he looked up from his cellphone or while scribbling in his notebook were not meaningless. Maybe it gave a lazy perspective on him, but that didn't mean he didn't do anything unlike his brothers.

Well, not always.

Because yes, each triplet had its own virtue. Louie's, however, was discreet.

And he was the observer.

Of course, all three had sharp eyes; but by not focusing on an extracurricular activity, he could focus on certain aspects that his siblings don't.

For example, how Dollie was uncomfortable when they highlighted her masculine features — which, by the way, were still not very noticeable as they still did not enter puberty — and how her shoulders tensed, trying to keep calm so that a outburst didn't get her in trouble with the teachers.

Until it turned out and, of course, it ended up in Uncle Donald arguing with the headmaster for allowing teasing and insults towards his niece.

Or how Dewey watched his arm during the exams, believing himself to be subtle enough. He never said anything in defense of his brother. Sometimes he was discovered, sometimes not, but that allowed his older brother to maintain good grades, at least within the average.

Or how stressed Donald looked day to day.

And that technically was the most unnoticed, so Louie was surprised to be able to visualize it because, as notorious as it was, his uncle commonly tried not to prove it, much less in front of them.

But the more he grew, the more obvious it was, and the harder it was for him to keep quiet about it.

Four-years-old. The nights when he woke up due to a nightmare and went to seek comfort in his uncle's arms, he stopped in his steps when he not saw him in his room and, instead, saw him in the dining room with a calculator, a notebook and several papers surrounding him. Some had words written in red, words whose meaning would be sure he would look for the next morning with support from his brother, but he knew they should be important if they kept him up late at night. His nightshirt looked wrinkled and his feathers scruffy. 

While that was the first time he saw him in that state, it certainly wasn't the last, always hidden on the stairs.

Anyway, whatever kept his father figure occupied did not allow him to see that one of the ducklings was awake.

"Each time they are more indebted, and I can't ask for help from... it would be one more." Donald muttered every night, and Louie never understood how the sentence ended, or who he mentioned, but he was sure he was always a different person. Sometimes a group of people.

That was the beginning of the most durable nanny stays; and certainly the ones that he and his brothers enjoyed most were Cousin Max, triplets that were friends with his uncle, and Grandma Duck.

The greatest dose of good luck was when Uncle Gladstone suddenly came to visit with Grandma. He could say that a small part of his uncle's debts had been reduced, and perhaps that was the most tearful thanks he could have given.

Six-years-old. One more move.  His uncle was not clear about it, but the triplets were already accustomed to them. Of course, every time the residences and apartments became smaller, impossible for a small broken family to support.

The only difference is that on that occasion they went to a small houseboat. He had heard Donald talk about one last hope, and he really seemed hesitant to let three hyperactive toddlers be in the limited space of a boat that clearly needed repairs.

That was the last move. And although the visits of Max, April, May and June were critically reduced and Grandma looked after them selflessly, they made her uncle's absences more noticeable; sometimes shorter, sometimes longer, and Louie couldn't help crying silently when he recognized the gentle, familiar touch tucking him and stroking his hair, to end with a kiss on his head.

"I'm so sorry, boys." Donald will apologize every night, his voice broken, and the desire to get up and snuggle in his arms, crying how much he missed him, it didn't spare him.

Don't get him wrong, he loves both Elvira and Max, and he got fond of the triplets. But they were not the person who changed his diapers — with the occasional exception of his grandmother — and taught him to talk and walk.

But he knew he couldn't. Being so considerate of them, it would amount to more time at home and less time at work, it would amount to more economic difficulties.

Louie couldn't be the evil triplet with his uncle. Much less when less than a week ago he had heard him cry during a phone call, begging to keep his job.

And while he never told his brothers about it, that image was still in his head.

He didn't want it to be repeated.

Seven-years-old. It could be said that living in a small place further sharpened the sight of an imaginative preschool child. Like the way in which, during the month, the shopping list was shortened, particularly when their birthdays or Christmas approached; how restless his uncle got when there were sales, and how concentrated he looked while comparing prices.

And how his knuckles tightened in the shopping cart when there were whispers and murmurs dedicated to them.

Apparently single parents are not a common thing in Duckburg, especially in the case of triplets, but it was no lie that Louie was happy with them despite the many difficulties.

He recognizes the expression on Donald's face when he tries not to have an outburst of anger and prefers to make deaf ears, making calculations and trying to make purchases with a low budget.

And to tell the truth, it was Louie's cusp moment to approach the carts of people who spoke ill of their uncle to take what he can while they are distracted...

Occasionally it was from the shelves where he took the food from, and fortunately his visualization of the angles allowed him to recognize when to do his thing, counting on brothers who covered his back.

The important thing was to have food in their fridge.

That year is founded Louie's Kids, and though it is difficult, he cannot say no to his uncle's smile, always willing to help even if it's out of his way.

Who knows, maybe one day he's as rich as Scrooge McDuck and can help Donald. Huey already does it with the electricity bill after all.

Nine years-old. Dahlia Duck is born.

He had never seen his sister so scared since joining the Junior Woodchucks — and, honestly and surprisingly, it had been merely good luck that his Uncle Donald will still have his uniform of his time in the troop.

But she was very intelligent, and it wouldn't be long until her gender dysphoria, whatever that was, had meaning.

And he couldn't be more grateful for it. He loved Dollie very much but having seen her so nervous and not being able to ask her without her becoming a trembling mass was driving him crazy.

"I have a sister!" Dewey would shout at the four winds before pouncing on her and hugging her between laughs.

He had simply raised his thumb in support, and for some reason his uncle was on the verge of tears. He had shared a few words with his sister alone and finally saw them again while they prepared dinner together.

And though everything had finished well and during the next few days her sister's poles had modernized and were now dresses, in addition to the addition of skirts and overalls to the closet — courtesy of an adult who made Halloween costumes for almost a decade —, it had made that adult more overprotective.

"Let me know if they bother you." For some reason, he looked more nervous than usual while arranging his niece's cap, even aghast, the smaller triplet thought while he finished his breakfast.

"Yes, Uncle Donald," the little duckling replied once more, finishing fixing her backpack to continue helping Donald as she used to do every morning.

The adult sighed, finishing preparing the last lunch.

"I know I've said it many times, but not everyone reacts the same, even in the 21st century there are people who feel superior to you for thinking differently and... I just want you to be well." He had crossed his arms, and his gaze had turned bright and distant.

"I know," smiling gently, his older sister ceasing to help her guardian to hug him, not caring if she wrinkled her clothes.

He didn't know what they had talked about, but apparently it had made them closer, and for some reason he couldn't face it.

So he did what he always did and preferred to get distracted and continue eating before his breakfast finished chilling. Although he will try to hide it from his nephews and niece, Louie's keen eye was still feeling his uncle's tension.

He always sensed his uncle's tension.

But it wasn't until they arrived at the school that they knew that not everyone reacted the same to Donald Duck, and the comments had not been expected for the first class.

And though the siblings had already made up their mind, it was not easy, much less for their uncle in the last PTA meeting.

Since that day he has seen his uncle looking for another school in which to enroll his wards, one in which his sister can be accepted; dedicating a small part of their reduced salaries in savings for a new educational institution.

He had honestly never seen his uncle so determined on a goal. This goal discovered an afternoon in which he did not attend classes due to illness.

That made Louie wonder how a man as dedicated and hardworking as his uncle struggled so hard to find a steady job.

Unfortunately, not everything turned out well if you were the most unlucky duck in the world, and that led to today: the every-day bullies bothering his sister. This time using her Junior Woodchucks guidebook as an object of fun.

It would be better for him to act soon, before Dollie's temper makes its own.

Ten-years-old. They begin to accompany Donald in his varied works.

The triplets had reached a consensus in which they already considered themselves too old to need a babysitter, and their uncle refused to leave them alone, already aware of how naughty they can be by joining minds.

So they decided to be unanimous and there they were.

Maybe they couldn't be outside his radio unless it was necessary, but that allowed them to leave the houseboat and they were satisfied.

After all, who claimed they couldn't have adventures if they intended? They were young and the imagination had no boundaries.

Surprisingly it made him discover that his uncle could be multitasking, and doubts about his unemployment were resolved to the bad character and awful luck which he was possessor of, in addition to the distancing when the improvement of position promised the family.

What was really the reason why his Uncle Donald wanted to maintain a normal life, a common job and an average family? Louie thought day after day. Normal, common and average bored.

New employment, more money and little by little it seemed that his uncle's bankruptcy was diminishing, though the difficulties continued to arise in the form of tax collectors, job losses, bank calls, bills that Donald vainly concealed and again the acquisition of nannies.

It didn't help at all that they had not known about Uncle Gladstone for months.

But hey, it was nothing they weren't used to. Louie was sure that sooner or later his uncle's efforts will bear fruit.

Or he was, until he discovered that he had more family than he thought.

"Donald Duck..." there had been so many scenarios in which he had imagined knowing Scrooge McDuck, one less likely than another.

"Uncle Scrooge..." wait, what?

And certainly that was not one of them.

[fly-pow-bye]

DuckTales 2017 - “The Lost Harp of Mervana!”

Story by: Francisco Angones, Madison Bateman, Colleen Evanson, Christian Magalhaes, Bob Snow

Written by: Colleen Evanson

Storyboard by: Vincent Aparo, Kristen Gish, Victoria Harris

Directed by: Tanner Johnson

I am being trustworthy with this one.

In the season opener, Huey managed to find a diary filled with the missing treasures Isabella Finch couldn't find, and with the help of her wisdom, he's going to guide the rest of the family to find each one of them. Scrooge lets the others know that this search for an item in Isabella Finch's journal of lost treasures is specifically Huey's quest. This is supposed to be Huey's season, after all; one was about Dewey's quest to find his mother, two was about Louie's quest for more money, and three is all about Huey trying to follow in the footsteps of Finch; the Uncle Scrooge of even Uncle Scrooge as revealed in that episode. No relation.

This episode specifically has him do a speech on the titular Lost Harp of Mervana, Mervana being a place that was lost to the sea, much like Atlantis. He's doing a really good job at being an adventurer already, as he's even mimicking Scrooge's long-winded monologues, as much as Scrooge doesn't like it when people call them that.

Even Scrooge can’t help himself with his love of long winded explanations of lost items and joins in on the description, giving details about how the people of Mervana were legendary creatures that were half fish and half man, and could walk on land and swim in water. They try to make him look like a crazy old man along with his crazy young nephew, even if this is pretty normal for him. It’s pretty normal for Huey too, to be honest; the only thing unusual is that it’s not the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook he’s reading from.

Webby is far more intrigued by the mere mention of half man, half fish creatures, even if the creature he was holding a picture of didn’t look anything like the kind of creatures Webby was thinking of. She can't wait to see them on this new adventure!

Louie doesn’t exactly have a positive outlook on this adventure, though, as he immediately assumes whatever they find is going to attempt to kill them in some way. Seinfeld always finds a girlfriend he’ll eventually disgust, the Three’s Company will always find a misunderstanding, and Huey Dewey and Louie will eventually end up in some sort of mysterious or historic peril.

Louie even pulls out a running tally of all the times each of them were offered as a sacrifice. Dewey’s especially proud of his record, as his tallies go far below everyone else's. He's the wacky one, and he's going to remain the wacky one throughout this episode. In fact, while some episodes, everyone has a role. The important ones are that Louie is the skeptic who always thinks the worst of the situation, while Webby is the positive thinker who thinks nothing can possibly go wrong. This may be one of the rare moments where Webby is clearly in the wrong, as I can't imagine anything otherwise would lead to a good episode.

Eventually, Webby gets the chance to say the M word that Huey and Scrooge specifically avoided, as a bunch of them swim on by. Even Louie appears to be impressed; it isn’t every day where someone sees a mermaid swim with such grace. While Zeus is more like the original myths, these are indeed Disneyfied mermaids: half duck, half fish, and no willingness to drag people into the ocean to drown them. We already had the Kelpies for that.

Not impressed at all is Della, who decides to activate the torpedoes, because she has ichthyophobia. I am not aware if they ever brought up her hatred of sealife before; it seems like something she would have forgotten after being stranded on a rock that almost definitely doesn’t have them. Those torpedoes aren’t even mentioned again; it’s just a way for them to have a cold open and to reinforce how much Della hates them fishies.

But hey, it's a cold open to the full opening this time. Hooray, I thought we would never see it this season. It's here we find out all the Della scenes are in the shortened version; they didn't bother adding her in any of the other shots. Is it a sign that this is going to be a rarity?

The two introduce themselves as Aletheia and Vero. They’re all about truth, and, as they hint in their introductions, their names even mean truth in Greek and Latin, respectively. They also describe Mervana as a place without suffering, a place where one can find their inner truth, and a place where material belongings can be gotten rid of in the name of peaceful harmony. Scrooge isn’t too happy about any of those aspects, and that’s going to be a theme in this episode.

Not everyone shares Scrooge's lack of enthuiasm, though Louie has good reason to believe otherwise. Meeting all of these mermaids in this cave between the deep blue sea and their destination is basically her dream for Webby, and one of the first lines she says while exploring this new place cements it.

Webby: Look at this stuff! Isn't it neat?

No, not in a sing-songy way, though I'm sure most would read it that way. That reference was almost as blatant as that "rescued" pun from the previous episode.

As they reach Mervana in their quest to make their collection a little more complete, Aletheia decides to tell the visitors the story of how Mervana ended up under the sea, as shown with a stone wall with pictures on it. Generations ago, these mermaids used to spend time equally between the land and the sea, until King Honestus, another mermaid named after a word for truth, decided the troubles of the land were too much for his people. He left to find his own truth, only to never return. According to legend, he became one with the ocean. The mermaids of Mervana continue their quest to find their inner truth in honor of him, in the hopes that one day, he will return. Not sure where becoming “one with the ocean” would mean he could return, but it's the legend they believe in anyway.

Louie expresses his opinion on this story in the most subtle way possible.

Louie: Something’s fishy here.

Surprised that line didn't come sooner, to be honest. Webby tries to convince him that this must be his dream world because everything is free, but he responds that it’s too perfect. Forget all of the trust, he assumes that King is going to come back to eat him, and they don’t know anything about a harp. Mrs. Beakley drowns out Louie with some bongo playing, telling him that the mermaids are harmless. Webby knows this must be proof: there's no way her Granny would ever lie.

Louie offers a different sort of proof: a cave behind a waterfall saying “do not enter.” Of course, they don't obey that; Louie definitely needs to find out if those mermaids are mermurderers, and Webby follows to find out how wrong he must be to come up with such a pun.

There is a B plot here: the rest of the family are going to join in on the truth searching, starting with an arts and crafts session where they make fins that represent their inner truth. Huey tries to convince Scrooge that joining in on that would lead to the mermaids letting out their secrets, including one about that Harp, and he reluctantly agrees. Scrooge tries to do this with the least effort possible, clearly showing how little he wants to participate. It ties in pretty well with the A plot, as people may look for clues for either Louie or Webby's interpretation on what these mermaids are really up to. The truth may lie somewhere in the middle, or maybe it's somewhere completely different.

How are the kids doing on that cave trip? Well, they did hear some mysterious singing that implied that some girl is "fibbing, fibbing, fibbing", which must mean there's something weird and mysterious.

While that may have been something related to the harp, the weird and mysterious something turned out to be a giant fish monster. If one looks closely, they can see that the monster wears a crown, giving some credence to Louie's theory that the king is just going to return to have duck soup, but neither Louie nor Webby can pay attention long enough to notice it.

Thankfully, they're saved by Mrs. Beakley, who managed to go from the bongo corner of Mervana to deep within a cave with a giant monster without them noticing. I'm sure "because she's Mrs. Beakley" is a good enough excuse.

Webby desperately tries to hang on to her belief that the mermaids aren’t people with gills that want to kill, saying that they must be thinking that they’re telling the truth, but they just don’t know. Her 100% positivity clashes with Louie’s 100% negativity, and that’s the crux of the A plot. It may seem like we would have Mrs. Beakley as the mediator, but she tells Webby that this is definitely some sort of mixup and that the mermaids are definitely people to be trusted.

Or, maybe not, as, once she tells Webby to take the lead, she picks up Louie and tells him she doesn't trust the mermaids either, while Louie raises his hands with victory. She says this for reasons she doesn’t really reveal, though it wouldn’t be a stretch if it was similar to Louie’s. Her conflict is that she doesn’t want her granddaughter to know about any of this suspicion, because this would completely ruin her positive attitude. I would assume any unknown danger that she just decided to let her granddaughter deal with by herself would ruin it, but maybe she's just that trusting of her abilities.

While the kids are having a cave story, the fin story is going about what one would expect. Dewey paints Hot Rod flames on his, Huey draws the Junior Woodchuck logo, and Scrooge just has a dollar sign clearly scribbled in a few seconds. He really wants to get to that harp, but until Scrooge can find his true self, the mermaids won't give them the knowledge they seek. The A plot's about Louie and Webby, and the B plot is mostly about Scrooge, and Huey, who was the focus in the intro, is just kind of there for the rest of the episode. In his own season!

There is one thing unexpected: Donald Duck, of all people, managed to find his peaceful soul with his rainbow colored fins and meditative pose, which impresses Aletheia and Vero. While this would be far from his inner truth, this does make sense: as this is a place without suffering, this can certainly change Donald Duck's way of life, who’s life was always followed by his bad luck. If one ever wanted to hear Donald Duck say "namaste," this is their episode.

Dewey wants to use his Hot Rod Fins to let his mother know that fish are totally awesome. Unfortunately, this does not do anything to cure his mother's hatred and/or disgust of fish. Dewey showing off his fin like Homer Simpson showing off his new chainsaw and hockey mask isn’t helping anyone, though we don't get to see her reaction beyond her gagging at the sight of one of her sons with those disgusting fish fins. This C plot honestly doesn’t need much discussion because it doesn’t really heed it. This is not to say it won't converge with the others, but, one will see.

Getting back to a plot that matters, after climbing a bunch of stairs, as Louie complained about the lack of escalators in these ancient place, Louie, Webby, and Mrs. Beakley go to the room that happens to have what they were looking for...

...the Lost Harp of Mervana, who was under a blanket. It is suggested that other people have tried to find out, but couldn't get past that giant monster. The harp is actually part mermaid, part person, part harp, which really makes Webby happy. As a person, she can talk and sing, as it turns out that she was the one who was mysteriously chanting "fibbing, fibbing, fibbing" this whole time. She never gets to play herself, though.

The Harp of Mervana seems to involuntarily sing if someone is "corr-eeeeect" or if they're "fibbing, fibbing, fibbing", and this is shown with her singing "corr-eeeeect" when Louie talks about how those stairs were a mess. There’s a subtle hint already of how this could play out just with that stairs quip; while the stairs were a mess that needed to be repaired, Louie was just saying that because he doesn’t like climbing so many stairs. With this ability to show the truth, Webby can finally prove to her housemate and Granny that there's nothing sinister under the sea.

Of course, the harp tells them that wouldn't be the truth if there was nothing sinister under the sea. They ask what the real story is, and she decides not to tell them. See, since she's a harp, she's going to sing it instead.

We know this is the real story because this is told via flashback rather than via a stone wall. To make a long story short, Mervana sank because he simply decided the sea was way less of a bummer than having to repair what’s on the land. Namely, the decaying tower. This led to the buildings sinking, and the mermaids decided to stay in the sea for the rest of their lives.

This turns out to be a bad thing, because their ability to turn their legs into fins has a horrible side effect if prolonged for too long. This is connected to that monster from earlier. I debated whether I should spoil this plot point, since the monster's design does hint at it to the point where it's kind of obvious with that 4-shot up there, but Louie treats the revelation as a complete surprise, so I'll try to be slightly vague about it. I'm not saying I'm going to hide it well.

Mrs. Beakley tries to comfort her granddaughter, who is starting to lose her positive attitude with all of this knowledge, but having a living lie detector in the room helps about as much as Dewey talking like a maniac in that previous scene. Honestly, even the show forgets about that scene; Dewey just appears in Mervana the next time we get back to it. Anyway, she tries to tell Webby some comforting lies, like...

Mrs. Beakley: I believe there's a little good in everyone...

Harp of Mervana: She's fibbing, fibbing, fibbing!

Mrs. Beakley: I believe people are trying to be good...

Harp of Mervana: She's fibbing, fibbing, fibbing!

Is she saying that everyone having a little good in them is a fib, or that Mrs. Beakley doesn’t actually believe that everyone has a little bit of good in them? Maybe I’m overthinking it, as it is probably the latter, but I do like how it could be the former, too.

But enough granddaughter-grandmother talk about the morality of telling comforting lies, Louie says that they need to get the Harp back to the Mervanans, or they will die. To Louie's dismay, the Harp finds no fib in that claim.

Let's let a short cutback to the C-plot hint towards why that would be, where Della decides that, because she's Della Duck and nothing should stop her so easily. Unfortunately, that crowned monster happened to be swimming nearby, showing that he has escaped the cave. I guess that monster must have known a shortcut past Mervana.

With either interpretation of the harp's claim that Mrs. Beakley was fibbing about people being trustworthy, Mrs. Beakley was lying to her granddaughter. Her positive attitude is gone, and she has to be dragged down by Louie. Mrs. Beakley grabs the harp, and rather easily too, to the surprise of even the harp.

Harp of Mervana: You’re very strong!

Mrs. Beakley: ...correct!

Nice reversal, though I can see that Mrs. Beakley is above mimicking her “corr-eeeect!”

This all leads to a climactic showdown between the monster and Clan McDuck, as the mermaid's spirit is broken merely by the former's presence. That leads to about a minute of moping until Louie convinces them to fight back by "embracing their inner truth". Even he seems to fight back against this by uttering an "ugh" before that line. This also convinces Webby, too; I'm glad that plot is resolved in a relatively decent matter.

There's some pretty neat scenes with this encounter, though I feel like they do skip around a bit. Donald Duck is convinced to drop his relaxation act so he can fight this monster in his usual way, and the next scene has him cowering with the others with no real connection. While I won't say what this monster is, though I can imagine anyone could guess, I will say who deals the final blow to this monster.

...Della, who suddenly decided to get out of the submarine and swim all the way to this beach! See, those scenes where she had a fear of fish had a point after all: it's to show that she can get over her fear of fish. Not sure if I could say she got over her hatred; she is delighted with kicking this monster she knew nothing about.

Of course, there's more to it than that, but I got to leave something out. Watch the episode to find out, but I will say it is a satisfying ending.

How does it stack up?

The episode itself does have some interesting twists and turns, but I wouldn't say it's among the series' best. All in all, it's pretty good. I'll give this one a 4.

Next, Louie's about to start a scheme. Oh, and Daisy Duck’s there, too.

← Double-O-Duck in You Only Crash Twice! 🦆 Louie's Eleven! →

[starshinewriter]

Final Chapter of Bonding is out!!

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24316399/chapters/60908560

Chapter Title: Bentina 

Alternative to ao3:

                                                      Webby

If there was one thing Bentina's granddaughter was it was resilient- both physically and mentally. It was something she was proud of her having. And it especially came in handy during one of their excursions. This one, in particular, was extremely demanding. But they were up to the challenge, they always were. After a little while they took a short break and cooled down a bit. Bentina handed Webby a water bottle and she took it with a thanks.

"We're almost close to the end, huh? Do you think we've beaten the others?"

Bentina nodded, "Most certainly. We'll need to keep an eye out for them though." From what she could hear they were nowhere near but better safe than sorry. "Don't forget to eat, dear."

Webby took out a granola bar from her bag then thought for a second and handed her Granny one. "We both need to keep up our energy!"

"Very true." She accepted it with a smile and the two of them munched in silence. If she listened closely she could hear water from a stream up ahead and the sound of wind blowing through some trees, it was nice. And a pleasant reminder that her spy skills could be used for more than just looking out for danger. It was hard to relax in her line of work- housekeeper or otherwise, but subtle things like that caused her to remember it was possible. Just not right now.

They were in the middle of a hunt after all.

"Alright. I think we've had a long enough break. Ready to get back to it?" Webby eagerly nodded so they both moved. They went silent once again as it was required for most of this excursion and stayed that way until they ran into some trouble. Trouble being one of the other people there. They got into a quick fight that ended with the two of them winning and the other person running away.

"Yes! We won!" Webby cheered. "And look, there's the end!" Bentina looked to where her granddaughter was gesturing to see that she was right, the end was right there.

"Remember we have to be careful. Use your senses, what do you notice?" Webby pointed out several different things, including a very obvious snare trap, and Bentina nodded her approval. "Good, now how do we get around them?" Webby fiddled with the things in her bag for a few seconds before pulling out a decoy stuffed animal and threw it at the trap. It set it off and the two of them rushed forward and grabbed the flag at the end, signifying they had won the hunt.

"Aw come on, they win every time!" A random opponent complained.

Bentina looked at her granddaughter who was celebrating and smiled fondly. "What can I say? We make a good team."

_______________________________________________________________

                                                        Louie

Adventures were exhausting, Bentina knew that better than anyone, which is why sometimes someone decided to sit one out. This time was Louie's turn. Which she didn't mind too much, out of all of them he was the least likely to bother her while she was working. As she tended to do when they were all out- it was the only time she could. She got so focused on her work that she almost didn't hear the loud shout. Almost. She wandered into the hallway where she heard it and immediately noticed something unmistakeable -the boys' bedroom, of course.

She knocked on the door but didn't wait for a reply before she went in. Louie looked up from his laptop when he heard her, "Oh, sorry. Jumpscare." She nodded, she could see his slight rattled breaths.

"As long as you're alright."

"Yeah, I'll be fine." He then looked down at his phone as if expecting it to light up with a notification. He was probably waiting for a text from his brothers, she assumed. She could see the visible disappointment in his face when it stayed dark so she nodded to herself and walked further in the room- her work could wait.

"What are you watching?"

He looked at her again, "Oh, just some videos on Youtube. Started with meme complications and ended up in paranormal conspiracies." She didn't understand what most of that meant but it was something he clearly enjoyed so she didn't say anything.

Until he didn't offer anything else, "Sounds like a rabbit hole." That got a laugh out of him much to her surprise- it wasn't a sound she heard quite often.

"For sure." He paused. "Um, I should probably stop watching this or I'll be up all night, and then Uncle Donald will get onto me again. Do you... need any help with anything?" Well, wasn't this day full of surprises.  

"Not at the moment, but I appreciate the offer." He nodded but put his laptop down anyway then seemed to hesitate for a moment.

"... Do you wanna hang out or something?" Ah, she got it. He was lonely- sure, the boys had chosen to be separate from each other before but that didn't mean they still didn't feel weird about it. She would let him have this one though.

"That sounds wonderful, do you have anything in mind?" And that was how she ended up spending the rest of the day playing cards- she had to admit, he was a good opponent, almost as good as Scrooge. But it made for an eventful afternoon. In fact, she was so into it that she didn't notice the others had gotten back until Huey and Dewey walked in. Louie's face lit up immediately and she quickly excused herself, but not before getting a grateful smile from him.

She smiled back, she was glad to do it and would be glad to do it again when the need inevitably arrived. She could use a more interesting opponent than Scrooge anyway- both of them cheated, but at least Louie was subtle with it.

_______________________________________________________________

                                                         Dewey

The attic was one of the worst places in the mansion in Bentina's opinion. It was hot and cramped and she couldn't move two steps without bumping into something- why Scrooge made her regularly clean it she'd never know. But this time she wasn't up there to clean it, thankfully, no- she was looking for something, or someone more precisely. Apparently Dewey had thought it would be fun to disappear without any warning, leaving the rest of them to search for him. His brothers knew where he was but were refusing to say anything- it would be commendable if she wasn't so worried.

Suddenly she heard something and narrowed her eyes, they didn't have any animals up here. "Dewey, I know you're here. Come out, now." A figure sheepishly moved from behind a pillar of boxes and gave her a weak smile.

"Hi, Mrs. B."

"What on earth are you doing up here? Everyone is all over this place looking for you, and it's extremely dangerous to be here. Let's go, we're leaving." She began to turn around but his protest stopped her.

"No!" She raised an eyebrow at him and he flattened, "I can't. I can't go back down there, they hate me!"

She sighed in understanding, of course, the whole reason they were looking for him in the first place. Dewey had gotten himself in with some bad people and had almost gotten hurt because of it. "Dewford, listen to me." The use of his full name got his attention. "They do not hate you. They could never hate you. They're worried- they just want to talk. You've been through a lot these past few days, let us help you." Dewey looked at her with something she couldn't quite place in his eyes and ran to hug her.

Bentina hugged back as he broke down in her arms, her motherly side quickly coming out. They stayed like that for a few minutes so he could cry it out and she could text the others to let them know she found him. Once he came to a stop he let her go, "Thank you... Okay, I'm ready to go back down now."

"Good, I'm glad to hear that."

_______________________________________________________________

                                                          Huey

It was no secret Bentina enjoyed cleaning and it was even less of a secret she liked to do it alone. But Huey asked her if he could help with a look she really couldn't resist, he was a good kid- all of them were but he was argumentatively the best so his help could be something she greatly appreciated.

The two of them quickly made their way through the den and foyer, though it wasn't until they got to the kitchen that she said something. "Huey, why did you ask to help me?"

"Oh. I guess it just looked like you needed help." She tried not to be offended by that- he was a child, he didn't need to be snapped at for doing a nice thing. It was actually really sweet once she genuinely thought about it. She didn't need help, she had done more in less time before. But the thing with the kids is that they didn't really think about that kind of stuff, they just saw what they saw and acted accordingly. Ergo, moments like this.

That didn't make them any less sweet. "Well, thank you for offering. It was very kind of you." He beamed at her and went back to what he was doing. He was doing a pretty good job and she guessed that he was the one who had usually cleaned up the houseboat. Hmm, come to think of it, he hadn't had to do that once they moved into the mansion- no wonder he was so eager to help.

They continued cleaning for a while, not saying much to each other but it was nice. She wasn't used to that kind of silence- everyone else in the house was much too chatty, but it seemed like he enjoyed peace and quiet just as much as she did. They would have to hang out more often. Come to think of it, when was the last time they did something together? "Hey, Mrs. B?" Huey asked, breaking the silence. She looked at him curiously. "Do you think I could help you out more often?"

She didn't have to think about that for a second, "Of course you can, Huey, that would be really great."

"Okay, cool." He nodded once. "Cool." It looked like there was something more he wanted to say but she wouldn't push it.

"Alright, I think we should move upstairs now." He looked up there apprehensively. "After a short break. Don't want to work too hard." She said with a wink which made him laugh. They sat down on the bottom steps and they would stay there until Huey decided to get up- she didn't need a break, but he clearly did. "The mansion is much bigger than the houseboat, huh?"

He nodded, "Yeah, you could say that." And back to silence they went. She could get used to getting help, especially if it led to moments like this.

[wroughtbetwixtfanfic]

Wheels Set In Motion, Ch 1.

Fandom: The Society.

Summary: As the situation in New Ham takes a dark, mysterious turn, Campbell is faced with a threat he never saw coming. With few allies and the past coming back to haunt him, he is forced to deal with a world that is crumbling fast, and choices with grim consequences.

Rating: Explicit.

Tags: Minor Character Death, Canon Divergence, Mental Health Issues, Addiction Recovery, Unhealthy Relationships, Teen Pregnancy, Past Rape/Non-con, Campbell Isn't The Dad, Brother Feels, Attempted Murder, Supernatural Elements, Gay Sex, Resolved Sexual Tension, Campbell has mild ASPD and is actively trying to not be awful

Word Count: 5654

Part Three || Ch 2 || Ch 3 || Ch 4 || Ch 5 || AO3

A day passed, then two. Grizz was gracious enough to take care of Campbell. He kept an eye on him when he could, making sure to let him have time to go to the bathroom, stretch, get food and water, and he gave Campbell a pillow to lean his head on at night. Luke and Clark took shifts when Grizz needed a break, and they were far less accommodating. They put water inches away from where he could reach, laughing while watching him struggle.

"Knock it off," Grizz snapped when he saw it happen. That was the last time they tried it. "Christ. I'm sorry." Campbell fought against the burning, sharp feeling in his chest. "It's whatever. They just need some way to feel powerful. Fucking wimps." Grizz didn't argue. Day two oozed by, and Campbell's shoulder had gone from aching, to throbbing and painful, to numb. His legs cramped and he was dizzy from a lack of sleep. Thankfully, Allie decided to visit him that evening. For a moment, Campbell had hope that she was letting him free; that hope evaporated when he saw the look in her eyes. "Allie, it's been days. Is all this really necessary?" he still tried, jiggling the handcuff. "Just uncuff me and lock the door or whatever. I'm not gonna jump out the window." Sitting on the bed, Allie shrugged. "Maybe." "I'm going to get pressure sores or something." "Yeah. That's what we should be worried about." "It is. I had nothing to do with killing Cassandra." "That's all you have to say?" Campbell gave an exasperated groan. "What else is there? Goddamn it, Allie, this is ridiculous. Your sister and I were cousins. Family. We were friends." He gestured to the air. "Besides, what do you expect? Huh? I can't prove it didn't happen. Can he prove it did?" "I can't tell you that." "I've barely spoken to Dewey our whole lives. Harry doesn't even like him, not that I can remember, anyways. He's always been a fucking asshole who just hangs around for scraps." "Then why did he accuse you?" "Are you really that fucking dense? You know my reputation." Oh, she knew his reputation all too well. Allie's eyes blinked a little too fast. A nervous response. "Answer the question." "I was the most obvious pick. It was a desperate move. You asked him if he had help, didn't you?" Campbell leaned back against the radiator. Allie wasn't as outwardly icy as Cassandra, but she was equally ruthless. It was hidden under the surface, waiting for just enough power to roar to life. "What did you promise him if he named names? What did you say would happen, if he didn't?" "That has nothing to do with--" "It has everything to do with it. People will tell you anything if they think their life is in danger. Big fucking duh." "I need to know what happened that night. Just tell me." "He killed her. It's that simple." "Alone? Because I don't think so." Allie leaned forward. "If not you, then Harry." Campbell snorted. "Harry? No, no." "Then who?" "Are you asking for my opinion?" When Allie stood and began to pace, Campbell rolled his eyes. Oh, that was rich. She imprisoned him and then wanted his insight. "Harry's a scared little puppy. Too bold for him. Too much effort. He can barely get out of bed these days, and he didn't really hate Cassandra like that, anyways." "Who do you think did it, then?" Humoring her, Campbell gave the question some thought. He examined everyone on the party list, and even the town populace in general. He couldn't think of anyone else who would have been that desperate for Harry's approval. "No one. Dewey did it alone. Just an entitled white boy who hates strong women. Pretty much the story with any shooter." "Classic misogyny," Allie mumbled. She chewed on her thumbnail. "Was that really all it was?" Campbell tried to shift to a more comfortable position, but there wasn't one. Everywhere hurt. They hadn't let him have any visitors-- not even Sam-- and her was starting to go from bored to annoyed. If she hadn't chained him up like a rabid dog, maybe he'd have been more sympathetic, but the only one who had his sympathy was in the ground. Everyone else was just grinding on his last nerve, but he couldn't escape to calm down. "Allie, are you gonna let me go?" "I haven't decided yet." "But if I'm innocent--" Allie's mouth pulled into a little smirk. "You think so? Maybe you didn't do this, but that doesn't mean you're innocent." "You're joking." There was no way in hell she could just detain him for some personal grudge. He felt his adrenaline start to kick in, but goddamn it, all he could do was tug uselessly at the handcuff. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Sitting back down, Allie rested her chin on her hand and stared at Campbell. "Are you scared of me?" A big mistake on her part, saying that. Campbell perked a little, stopping to analyze that question. Are you scared of me? She'd mistaken his desire to get the fuck away from her as fear. And she wanted him to be scared. She wanted him afraid of her... because she'd always been afraid of him. Hate, fear. It made people do terrible shit. Like, for example, threaten to keep one's cousin locked up-- or worse-- just because they'd been a prick. That, combined with Sam's story, must have made Allie afraid. Campbell smiled, relaxing into the handcuff and focusing his gaze on her. "You have no evidence against me. I didn't do shit, and you know it. So, let me guess. You're keeping me here because you're all scared of me." He grinned as her expression froze. "And, what? You finally have a way to deal with your Campbell problem? I'm guilty of being fucked up in the head, so I deserve to be locked up? Or worse? Is that it? I'm the kind of weirdo it's acceptable to pop in the head and get rid of." "I didn't say anything about killing anyone." He laughed. "Let's drop the act and stop being coy, Allie." Campbell's smile faded as he dug through his memory for every little bit of information he had on Allie, and her personality. Every little thing that made her weak. "The thing is, if you do that, you're gonna have to be the one to pull the trigger. That's how it is, as the leader. But you don't like to make tough choices, do you? You're not Cassandra." Her nose twitched in disgust. He had her. "Fuck you." "You can't kill me and not Dewey. That wouldn't make sense. So then you, you've killed two people. And Allie, you might be all kinds of fucked up, too. I don't know. But I do know you're not like me." "So what? I don't have to be." "Yeah, you do. How are you gonna sleep at night, knowing you're a murderer? Knowing that you killed your own family just because people are ignorant and afraid? Because you're ignorant and afraid?" "I..." "You'll never get rid of me, cousin. We'll visit you," he whispered as he leaned forward, close enough that he could see the tears springing up in her eyes. "Cassandra and I. Every night in your sleep." Allie swallowed, standing quickly and walking towards the bedroom door. She stopped, her hand on the doorknob. "Maybe I'll just have to live with that." But the calm in her voice faltered, and that was all he needed. Campbell chuckled, and Allie retreated out the door, shoving her way past Sam and heading downstairs. It was enough to soothe that ache in his chest, in his fingers, that commanded him to rip and tear and make her suffer. But then he saw Sam looking at him with that look, and Campbell felt the wind leave his sails just a touch. "Are you Plan B?" Campbell asked as Sam came in the room. "No. I'm not supposed to be in here." Sam sat next to Campbell on the floor. He tucked his knees up to his chest, and signed slowly. A small mercy, considering Campbell was operating on a total of twenty minutes of sleep. "I just wanted to see you." "You know I can't stay locked up like this." "I'm going to see what I can do. It just doesn't look very good right now." "If she decides to kill me..." Sam's signing turned sharp, angry. "I won't let her do that. I won't." "How do you plan to stop her?" "I'll get Grizz to let you go. I'll take you home, stay with you until she backs off." "Thanks for the sentiment." Campbell glanced at the watch on Sam's wrist. It was just past midnight. Day three had begun. "Go get some rest, Sam. You look almost as shitty as I do." Because he hadn't been sleeping, either, Campbell realized as Sam rubbed his face and gave a long, weary sigh. "Goodnight, Campbell." "Night, Sam." Campbell waited until Sam was gone before kicking over the empty soda can Grizz had brought in at dinner. It was bullshit. They locked him up for days without any proof at all, besides the words of a convicted murderer, chained to a radiator like a fucking animal. Allie outright threatened that she would keep him like that even if he didn't do it. And to put all that on not only him, but Sam? Sam was innocent. He didn't deserve to worry like that, especially not over Campbell; was Allie really that desperate for revenge? Sleep that night went the same way it had since he'd been arrested. Trying to get comfortable, but the metal of the handcuff chaffed and bit into his wrist, the radiator coils pushed into his neck and back and shoulders, and the hard wood floor made his hips ache. He could hear noise from other rooms. He could hear when everyone went to sleep, and then there was just silence. Silence, except for the creak of the floor outside his room when whoever was guarding him moved around. Creak. Campbell startled awake out of the half-sleep he'd just slipped into. He tried again. Ten minutes, twenty minutes went by. Creak. He woke up again. All night long, and eventually, Campbell gave up like he had before and settled into a sort of zoned-out trance. Grizz came by and made sure he had lunch. "It's nothing fancy," he said as he gave Campbell water, a cheese sandwich, and dried cranberries. "But I know you don't like meat and you're on prison rations until Allie makes up her mind." "How's that looking?" Campbell wondered, poking at the food. His own hand didn't even look real anymore. "Any progress?" "Not much. People are starting to whisper." "People have been whispering. They're starting to get pissed." Grizz peeked out the door. "I'm worried she's gonna lose it. People want answers, leadership, and I believe in her but she doesn't believe in herself. People are gonna notice that." "It's because she has to want it." "She doesn't want it." And there was the problem, right there. A teen girl suffering the loss of her big sister, forced to step into her shoes, with the responsibility of an entire society on her shoulders. Campbell knew what their family was like. The pressure there was to be perfect, to compete against one's sibling, to see one's parents pick a favorite when one couldn't live up to the high expectations. It was a lot to try and handle. Allie, forever in Cassandra's shadow, unable to be the perfect little baby that her parents wanted. Campbell could understand how it felt, but at this rate, she was gonna snap. And then someone would take things from her. Oh, no. What a shame. Except it would be, because everything Cassandra worked for would be gone, if things landed into the hands of the wrong person. There were footsteps on the stairs, and Grizz ducked back out of the room before they were seen talking. Luke's voice rose up from outside, muffled. A better guard than Clark. Luke, at least, would come in every so often and ask Campbell if he needed anything. He still didn't stop Gordie from hovering near the door and glaring. Maybe if Allie didn't try and do him in, one of the others would. It wouldn't be surprising. What was surprising was, later that night, Campbell heard shouting from downstairs. Grizz had returned to his post at Campbell's room, but quickly shut the door once the yelling began. Campbell strained to hear, but he could only tell who was arguing, not so much what they were arguing about. He could hear Will and Luke, faintly, but Allie moreso. It didn't last long, whatever was happening. Soon, the door swung open and Allie stomped in, slamming the door behind her. "You're right." Campbell tensed as Allie sat down across from him. She looked angry, with her jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed. "What?" "I've been scared of you my whole life. And for just one second, I wanted you to know what that felt like." She crossed her arms. "But you didn't, did you?" "I'm not scared of you. I'm worried about what you might do." "And what did you think I was going to do?" "You know what I thought." Allie studied the floor. "I thought that maybe I'd keep you here, locked up, to teach you a lesson. Some people have told me it'd be easier to just get rid of you. That it'd be safer for you to be gone, before you actually do anything to hurt people." "And?" He kept his tone even, but he felt his heart begin to slam harder as his brain tried to figure some way out. "What did you decide?" Standing up, Allie reached into her pocket and pulled out a key. She unlocked the handcuffs and waited for Campbell to get to his feet. She latched onto his wrist and led him out the back door, away from where everyone else was. Allie opened the door and shoved him onto the back porch. "Get out." It hurt to walk, and his legs felt like lead and jello at the same time, but Campbell didn't wait around for her to change her mind. He didn't even think to text Elle or Harry; he just raced home as quick as he could. Campbell could hear the piano playing from inside. Who was that? The playing stopped when he entered the home. Elle's voice floated through the silence. "Who's there?" Campbell felt a wave of relief as he turned the corner and saw Elle. It was a new sensation. A little spark of joy, a feeling of being home and safe. She was there, and she was alright. They all were, for now. "I'm free." "How..." Elle stood, stammering. Her eyes were wide. "How did you get out?" "I didn't do anything, so she let me go." "Oh." Tilting his head, Campbell walked up to Elle and stroked her cheek. She looked more like a deer in the headlights than a concerned girlfriend. "Are you okay? I thought you'd be happy to see me." Elle threw her arms around Campbell's neck, burrowing her face into his shoulder. "I am! So much." She kissed his cheek, running her hands through his hair. "So much. We were so worried." We. Campbell glanced up, seeing movement behind Elle. Harry stood in the doorway of the room, dark circles under his eyes and a blanket curled tightly around his shoulders; he kept his distance, but once Elle had left for work, Harry followed him upstairs. Campbell knew it was inappropriate for Harry to sleep beside him, but Campbell was too tired to stop him. That was the excuse Campbell made for himself, anyways. Harry sunk his fingers into Campbell's shirt, nestling close. Campbell fell into a heavy sleep, finally comfortable in his own bed. When he woke up, Harry was still there, sniffling softly with red-rimmed eyes. He didn't seem to notice Campbell was awake. Not until Campbell lightly wrapped his arms arms around Harry, anyways; Harry jumped a little, but then leaned into the embrace. "I thought they were gonna..." His voice broke. "Fucking dicks." Campbell softened his voice. "Hey, it's okay. They didn't do anything to me. We're going to be okay now, alright? Everything is going to be okay." "How do you know that? If they try again--" "Then there will be hell to pay." Campbell knew it was an idle threat. If Allie and her minions came for him again, no one would be able to stop them. Elle and Harry didn't have enough power to stop them. Still, Harry relaxed a little at the words. "Trust me." Harry's mouth twitched at the corner. "Never." "Smart boy." The house was cooler than usual as the sun went down; clouds were forming, and there was a breeze, heralding the chance of rain. Campbell was loathe to move away from the warmth of their blankets and shared body heat, but Elle would be home soon and they had their own jobs to get to. Harry bit his lip and gave Campbell a look that was almost pleading-- not yet, just a few more moments-- but Campbell stood and threw on fresh clothing. He couldn't give in to the desire for closeness. Neither of them could, especially not now when tensions were already so high. Maybe once things calmed down... If they calmed down. Elle gave Campbell a quick peck on the cheek as they passed one another on the porch. Campbell was tempted to say fuck work, and just stay home with Elle to make some coffee and watch a movie, but he had to try to be on good behavior. He couldn't give Allie a reason to fuck around with him again. But it sucked, like it always sucked, and he was happy when it was time for dinner. Elle joined him and Harry for it, and after a bit of clean-up, they could go home. Campbell was glad to get home and finally get a shower, but a closer look in his closet revealed something that made him pause. He hadn't noticed before, but there was a familiar pair of jeans and a shirt hanging there that hadn't been there before. He knew, because those were the clothes he wore the night Charlie disappeared. There was still a trace of blood on the jeans. Neither Harry or Elle had asked about them. It could have been either of them that washed the things, but Harry's idea of putting clothes away was tossing them on a chair and hoping for the best. No, the meticulous one was Elle. "Hey, babe?" Campbell asked Elle when she came back to the bedroom. He held up the shirt and wiggled it. "Where'd you find these?" Elle gave them a quick glance before heading into the bathroom to brush her teeth. "Under the bed. I did the laundry while you were gone." A pause. "There was blood on your jeans. Are you okay?" Fuck. Campbell followed her into the bathroom, kissing her shoulder. "Oh, yeah. It's just allergy season. I get nosebleeds sometimes. Sorry, I didn't want you to worry." She couldn't say anything with a mouth full of toothpaste, but Elle nodded. Campbell thought he saw a flicker of... something, but his eyelids felt like lead and his body was sluggish. He needed sleep, and Elle snuggled up to him just as close as usual, so what was there to worry about? He was just tired, and letting his disorder run off with him like it often did. He was home. He was safe. Campbell was just crawling out of bed when the text came in. Allie had made a decision; she was calling everyone to the church at 8am. Half an hour. Elle was already stumbling around getting dressed, and Harry had fallen asleep in the clothes he wore the day before, so they made it to the church with a handful of minutes to spare. They hadn't eaten. Elle looked like she wanted to be ill, and Harry was silent and shaking; neither looked hungry, and Campbell wasn't going to force himself, either. When they got to the church, Campbell stopped a few yards away. "Go in without me," he said. He remembered the shouts and cheers of the people when he got arrested. Campbell could picture their snide, smug faces in his mind. "I'll wait here." Harry stopped, while Elle went inside. "Are you sure you'll be alright out here?" "Of course." The real answer was actually of course not, and Harry knew this. Still. Harry followed Elle into the church; he was nothing if not obedient. Campbell tucked himself into a shaded spot, out of view, and waited. The air was thick and warm already, the start of a hot day. Campbell had just started to doze off when the church doors slammed open, and Dewey was dragged out kicking, screaming, cursing. Campbell only heard one sentence-- fuck you, you goddamn bitch-- before Dewey was stuffed into the guard's SUV. When Allie came out a few moments later, she looked stoic. The guard members at her side were less so. Grizz was hard to read, but there was a little wrinkle between his eyebrows, and Luke had his eyes fixed on the ground like somehow he wanted to sink into the concrete. Campbell stood and approached. Everyone but Grizz tensed, but Allie muttered something to her herd and they backed off. "Campbell," Allie said. She shoved her hands in her pockets. "You weren't at the meeting." Campbell shrugged. "Being there wouldn't have helped any, right? Anyways. Thought it'd be a good idea if I gave you some space this morning." "Then why are you here?" "For the same reason I was there for Cassandra. I knew it'd be hard for you." Allie stared hard at him, before turning her gaze a little over his shoulder. She was ashamed of her choice. Or, rather, of what she felt she had to do. "We're executing him tomorrow." "Solomon." Campbell tilted his head. The closer he looked at Allie, the more she looked away from him. "You're actually splitting the baby." That made her look at him. Allie pursed her lips, defiant. "I did it for Cassandra." "I know you did. I would have done the same thing." A dig, just to make Allie squirm. Campbell would have enjoyed the queasy look that flitted across her face, if it hadn't been about Cassandra. "Good luck." Maybe she sensed that he meant it, that good luck, because for a single heartbeat of time she looked at him like maybe he wasn't some sort of monster. But then she turned on her heels and headed off, with her lapdogs at her heels. A better reception than he expected, anyways. Campbell turned his attention to Elle and Harry, who emerged from the church and headed towards him. "I can't believe it," Harry mumbled. "She's really going through with it." Elle's lips were pressed into a thin line, but her tone was even. "So what?" She shrugged. "He murdered Cassandra. People who do terrible things deserve what they get." "Maybe, but..." Campbell walked a few paces ahead of them as they went home, trying to tune them out; it wasn't something he wanted to discuss. He knew that, in the end, what he said to Allie had almost been true. It was so very tempting to take the easy route, and Campbell was very sure that the death penalty was the easy route-- easier than having to watch over an inmate for fuck knew how long, anyways, and have him using up resources. That didn't mean he agreed with the death penalty, especially since Cassandra had been against it, and Campbell had heard all the arguments against it from her. In normal society, it didn't deter crime at all, it was more expensive than life without parole, and innocent people sometimes were killed. But this wasn't normal society. The society they were in now was tiny, brittle, and scared. Resources were finite. The guard was already stretched thin. Regardless of what Cassandra would have wanted, regardless of what should have been true and factual, they were playing by different rules now. He didn't care to hear moral debates about it. Most people didn't, it seemed like. Lunch, work, and dinner were quiet. Somber. There were some whispers, but it wasn't surprising that there was so much gossip. It was an execution. Campbell could see Harry sink further into himself with every comment, though; Campbell couldn't exactly offer him comfort, not with everyone else watching them like hawks. It seemed that even with Allie declaring them innocent-- or, well, not worth punishing-- people still were eager to find some excuse to condemn them. They were halfway home when Harry just... stopped. Campbell turned back, following Harry's line of sight. He was staring down the street, towards the spot Cassandra's body had been found. "It's my fault," Harry said. He sounded far away. Faint. "I killed them both." "What are you talking about?" "If I hadn't opened my fucking mouth, if I hadn't said what I did..." Campbell slid his hand under Harry's chin and turned his head so that Harry was looking at him. "No. You're not gonna do this. Just because someone says something fucked up doesn't mean someone else has the right to go murder someone over it." Campbell cut Harry off before he could protest. "It was Dewey's fault. He chose to do what he did." Harry gazed at Campbell, the pulled away and kept walking. He didn't say another word, not until they got home. Muttering to himself, Harry went to his room; Campbell followed, wondering what the hell was going on in Harry's mind this time. Harry dug out all the pills he had left, and a few bags of other drugs. Heading into the bathroom, Harry threw open the toilet, dropped the baggies in it, and flushed. They both stood there, watching the drugs vanish. Once they were completely gone, Harry looked up at Campbell. "Will you help me?" There was no question about it. Campbell went through the house and dumped all the alcohol down the drain. It pained Campbell a little. Some of the bottles were old, expensive, and it's not like he'd personally planned to go completely sober himself. Harry needed it, though. Harry needed Campbell and his support. Campbell was in no way sober, and never would be. He'd given up on that idea. But he could try to be, for Harry's sake; he knew what it was like to give up drugs, especially ones like cocaine, and Harry would need all the help he could get. "Thank you," Harry said when they were done. He frowned as he looked around the kitchen, as if unsure of what to do now that it was all gone. "I just... I can't anymore. You know?" "I know. It's gonna be hell for a while. Are you ready for that?" Harry shook his head. "No, but I can't go through this again, Cam. I don't have it in me. If I keep going on like this, one of these days I'll just..." He hesitated, then gave Campbell a weak smile. "Anyways. I think I'll go to bed." Campbell didn't want to leave. It was gonna be a rough night, and it was only going to be rougher for the next week or so. What if it was all a big show, and Harry was going to do something foolish the minute Campbell left him alone? It happened, sometimes. Professionals always said that it was when depressed people started acting better to worry most, because them being calm could be a sign that they'd decided to end their lives. Harry didn't seem calm, he just seemed ready to try and help himself. Still, if-- Harry was staring at him with a knowing look; he stepped closer, and leaned his forehead against Campbell's shoulder. Of course he'd seen the look on Campbell's face, and read it for what it was. He didn't say anything. Campbell didn't, either. It was a brief, wordless comfort, and then Harry ducked into his room and shut the door. Elle was in her pajamas by the time Campbell got upstairs. "Is everything okay?" she asked as she took her make-up off in the bathroom. "Sounded busy down there." "It's fine. Harry's decided he's gonna get off the drugs and the alcohol." Campbell sunk onto the bed and tossed his shirt into the laundry hamper in the corner. "I was helping him dump the alcohol in the house." "Really?" "Yeah, I mean, he kinda lives here now, too. I didn't want him to be tempted." Rinsing off her face, Elle turned off the bathroom light and flopped next to him in bed. "I guess it's a good idea. We don't really need alcohol. Too bad we couldn't have used it in the garden next spring though, to keep the slugs away." "Pretty sure Harry would have mainlined it all by then." "Good point." Campbell watched Elle as she fiddled with her necklace. Her hands kept slipping. "Do you need some help with that? Here." "It's okay," Elle said quickly, ducking away from his hands. "My hands were just damp still." "Are you feeling alright? You've seemed kind of on edge all day." "It's been a rough day, Campbell." "I know, I just... Do you wanna talk about it?" "No. I'll just be happy when it's over and we can move on." Elle tucked herself in and turned off her bedside lamp, but she stayed sitting up n the faint half-light, her eyes on Campbell. "You looked uncomfortable earlier. Don't you think people who hurt others deserve to be punished?" Campbell felt a cold trickle down his neck and spine. "What do you mean?" It was a strange question, and the fervid look in her eyes made him want to just stand up and leave the room. "Is this about us? Because I've been trying really hard to be better, and I know that doesn't change what happened before, but--" "I was just talking to Becca about it, during work." "Becca?" "She thinks it's true." "I don't doubt it. She's always been pretty passionate about her beliefs." Whatever he said, it triggered some sort of change in Elle's attitude. "Yeah." Rolling over, Elle laid down and pulled the blankets over her. "Sorry, I guess I just need some rest. Goodnight, Campbell." Campbell sat up a little longer, then laid down, too. Weird. Weird, but no one seemed to be getting good sleep lately. Maybe, after tomorrow, people would be less... whatever the hell was happening to people. He just wanted things to go back to how they were only a little while ago, sipping lemonade on their porch and admiring the work all three of them had done together. He just wanted to get his head right with Grizz's help, and try to heal things with Sam, and make sure Harry stayed safe and healthy. Campbell wanted to prove himself to Elle. All this death and murder and trial business was making people senseless. The phone rang at 4am. Picking it up, he slipped out of the bedroom and into the hall. "Hello?" "I can't do it." Allie's voice was strained. Whispering. Campbell shut the bedroom door, and headed across the hall to Elle's bathroom. "Too late for that, cousin. If you back out now, you'll look weak. Weak leaders don't survive long." "How can I?" Allie rasped. "How can I take someone's life?" Campbell sat down roughly on the bathroom floor, leaning back against the cool, tiled wall. "Not lightly. But we both watched Game of Thrones, Allie. You remember what Ned Stark said at the very beginning. The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword." "You're quoting a television show?" "Am I wrong?" A long silence, and a sniffle. "No. I guess not." "Well, then." Campbell traced the small cracks in the floor. He tried to think of something soothing, but there wasn't anything to say. "Do you want me to do it?" "Campbell." "Allie, answer the question. Do you want me to kill him for you? You and I could go out there together, without anyone else around. You don't have to even tell anyone it was me. No one would have to know." "You'd tell them." "I wouldn't." "Why? Why are you offering?" "Why are you calling?" "I..." Allie gulped. She didn't answer, not for a long while. "I don't know. I thought maybe... I guess I just wanted to talk to someone who wouldn't waver." "There you go, then." "I can't ask you to do it. I have to, don't I?" Campbell had never been close to Allie, and while the despair in her voice didn't stir any pity in him, he could acknowledge that it was a shit situation. "You passed down the sentence, Allie. You gotta swing the sword. Even if it fucking sucks." Allie let out a short, shaking breath, and hung up. Campbell waited for a few minutes, then got up and went back to bed. He didn't fall asleep. The best he could manage was laying down with his eyes closed, listening to Elle's soft snoring, and try to clear his mind of everything that had happened. Impossible, but he could sleep once it was over, done, and there was closure. Once it had been laid to rest, literally, everything would start to heal. A lie, probably, but it was a comfortable one.

[ssssnekson]

the mist settled ( moxiety )

This is more of a... very long drabble. I didn’t mean for it to get so long I was just testing my writing style cause I got inspired by a book. Haven’t written in ages so if it’s funky please tell me :]

Rating: PG

Characters: Patton Sanders, Virgil Sanders

Words: 1,154

Warnings: some self doubt, not insanely romantic but they do kiss, mentions of polymary, mention of analogical

Pairing: Moxiety! first time writing it, tell me if I did any good

Summary: Virgil comes to pick Patton up from work and Patton finally musters up some courage.

💛💛💛💛

It was a foggy crisp night. Patton stood outside in his fluffy uniform skirt and apron, pencil still tucked behind chestnut colored hair from his earlier shift. He sighed and looked out towards the road near the diner. He could see the bright lights of Virgil’s deep dark purple Camry coming towards him and if he strained his ears hard enough, he could hear the faint notes of the Be More Chill album as much as Virgil liked to deny he listened to musicals that often. Patton knew that once he touched the car those faraway notes would dissipate and the music would melt into Brendan Urie and the occasional rare Lizzo song. The thought of Virgil not being comfortable with sharing his true tastes of music with Patton was disconcerting and made Patton shiver a bit more in the chilly night air.

The sky was completely black with no stars. The fog rolled in from the hills and looked palpable, like one could run their fingers through it like some kind of wool. Virgil’s wheels made a soft crunching noise against the gravel, grounding Patton away from his introspections and back to the present time where Virgil was getting out of the car in a big puffy coat, sweatpants, and an unmatching sweatshirt. He seemed to not be wearing socks either, and it being compared to Patton’s neat and tidy appearance they were a sight to behold. Patton found himself smitten.

And wasn’t that just the problem at its very core? Patton’s immature feelings, his uncontrolled sighs and imaginings of holding hands and kissing foreheads. He was in - not love, not yet - he was hardcore crushing on his best friend. Now, they both liked men. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was Patton was 100% sure that Virgil had a crush on Logan and Patton was 100% uncertain if Virgil was any type of poly or if this simply wouldn’t work out. But looking at Virgil’s face take on a soft pink tint as his eyes landed on Patton’s skirt and exposed legs, Patton decided to throw caution to the wind. Virgil was interested. Patton was very interested. And Virgil was coming closer�� Wait a minute…

Virgil came close, grabbing Patton’s hands and pulling them close to his chest.

“Hey, Pat.” He said, and his eyes glimmered with beautiful familiarity and perhaps an ounce of love.

“Hey, Virge!” Patton said with enthusiasm. Tonight was the night and there was no way he was sending Virgil mixed signals by pretending to not be anything short of enthused to see him. Virgil returned Patton’s smile with a small one of his own.

“How was your shift?” He asked, still cradling Patton’s hands and therefore making it hard to think.

“Pretty good,” Patton forced out, cheeks a ruddy red. “Jenny came back tonight and showed me more pictures of her newborn!”

“Sounds great,” Virgil said, then his small smile widened into something playful. “... Any leftovers?” Patton nodded happily and released his hands from Virgil’s gentle hold to grab the bag sitting next to him on the floor.

“Four beignets with the housemade jam, a couple wings, and two slices of sausage pizza!” He said and proudly held out his gifts to Virgil. And ah, there it was. That flash of something lovely in his eyes, that softening of his smile and relaxation of his posture.

“God, Pat. This is amazing. We’ll be eating good tonight, huh? What movie should we watch to this scrumdiddlyumptious food?”

Virgil must have used a Roahl Dahl word on purpose, to entice Patton to the movie night(as if he could say no anyways).

“Hmm. How about Winnie the Pooh? Or Shrek 2?” Patton suggested. Virgil laughed.

“Those are two very different movies, Pat. But somehow, I think they’d work together. Good idea.” Another smile. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“Wait-” Patton stopped Virgil from turning around, a hand on his sleeve. “I have something to tell you.”

Virgil turned back so he was facing Patton and his eyes betrayed his anxiety. Patton hated that look on him so he decided to do this quick. It’ll be just like ripping off a bandaid.

“I… I have a crush on you, Virgil!” He borderline yelled. His cheeks easily filled in with a sweet red and warmed his face in the dewey darkness of the night. Virgil’s face did the same and his face was nothing short of shocked.

“Are you serious?” Virgil asked, and Patton’s heart sunk. “Wh-what? Why me? I’m so- I just..!”

Virgil took a moment to rub his hands over his face before placing them clasped in front of him. “Patton. You could do so much better than me. I’m like, one piece of worthless gravel to your Mount Rushmore. I’m like the Adam Sandler to your Dawnye “The Rock” Johnson. The Cromwell to your Wednesday Addams! You’re too perfect to be with me!”

Patton slapped his hands to Virgil’s cheeks, snapping him out of it. “Virgil! Be quiet! You are none of those things and it should do you very well to never think like that again, you hear me? I’m not perfect, not by a long shot, kiddo. And nobody is. Everyone knows the only truly perfect beings are puppies and kitties!”

Virgil snorted at that, “Pat, what-” but Patton wasn’t finished.

“In my imperfect eyes, you’re the one for me. The only one for me. When I’m around you, I feel like I need to wipe my glasses off constantly because my face steams up so often! When you play the guitar for me, I practically die on the spot because I think, maybe, just maybe. This song is about me. Virgil, I-” Patton gets cut off my the feeling of chapped lips on his and the mist seems to stop its slow descent downwards. Patton’s hands slid down to Virgil’s shoulders and Virgil’s moved to Patton’s cheeks. The kiss was soft and slow and both of their faces were wet from fog but neither of them cared. The car very well could have burst into flames and Patton would insist on a few more seconds to kiss Virgil before addressing the situation. Virgil’s lips traveled over his in an intoxicating mix of just enough pressure and then not enough. They parted for air and then immediately dived back in with more open mouthed presses of lips, and Patton sighed when Virgil drew away. His lips were kind of red and swollen and Patton wanted to kiss him even more. The mist settled, landed on Virgil’s nose and Patton’s exposed legs. Patton shivered, and Virgil’s nose twitched.

“How about we… go back home and continue this there with some Shrek 2?” Virgil asked, rather shyly.

“Yeah, of course! Of course.”

And with hands intertwined they navigated the way back to the car and managed to only give chaste kisses across the seats as they made their way home.

[imgonnabeyourbubblegumwitch]

What’s so Great About... Huey?

A Huey Duck Character Analysis 

Part Four - What’s so great about Huey

(Part One here . Part Two here . Part Three here)

Welcome to the what's so great about Huey part of What's So Great About Huey? I'm going to start somewhere a little contradictory which is the first time Huey really frustrated me.

It was in The Infernal Internship of Mark Beaks. And I'll admit in this episode the first time through I was very much rooting for Dewey. I'd not been watching long and I hadn't really got a feel for Huey's character yet. In that episode he seemed so rigid. I think it was his insistence that the slides were not for fun but efficiency that was a moment that particularly stood out.

But this is one of the reasons I now think Huey is so great, partly because he is so thorough. He wants to understand the world around him, whether that's driven by his fear of the unknown, or curiosity, or a list of categorising or a combination of all of these, the outcome is really impressive. He is continually adding to the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook. He is a hard worker and as a result has an impressive bank of skills including sewing, knot tying, trap making, navigating, map making, electronics etc.

Look at all his badges (and his lopsided sash!) Huey is crazy hyper-competent.

As well as having a lot of skills to draw on, Huey is resourceful. He is able to use things in a situation to his advantage. An example of this is in The Spear of Selene where he realises that the breezy togas could carry him up to the bag of winds. Huey is also able to figure out that Fenton could be controlling the suit in Who is Gizmoduck?

H: Just rip out the processing core!

Huey is a team player. He has his moments of wanting to shine like in McMystery at McDuck Manor, but on the whole Huey enjoys being part of a team whether it’s the Junior Woodchucks, or the triplets.

Huey is enthusiastic too. He clearly loves being a Junior Woodchuck and this shows in his excitement in getting new patches. He is constantly learning, constantly striving for the next skill, for the next patch and he always does it with such cheer. Even when others aren't interested in his hobbies, even when they openly talk down about them, he still pursues with what he enjoyed. In that sense Huey can be said to have a lot of confidence in being himself.

Bearing in mind his enthusiasm and how much he strives for his patches, I really liked how Huey encourages Scrooge to go back in the Impossible Summit of Mount Neverrest. He acknowledges that the danger has run too great and demonstrates that he is not prepared to risk everything in pursuing a badge.

H: Junior Woodchuck Rule 727: sometimes the bravest thing an explorer can do is walk away!

It makes his decision to join with the Beagle Brothers in The Day of the Only Child! all the funnier.  Since the death is only "possible" he opts to go for the badge.

H: Possible death, definite badge, possible death, definite badge, definite badge, Definite Badge!

I think one of Huey's biggest strengths however is his kindness. As mentioned before, Huey gives Webby tips on how to cope on her first bus ride despite the fact he wasn't initially keen to have her along. A couple of episodes later in The Beagle Birthday Massacre! he is quick to offer her his place on the boat. When she thinks Lena has run off, Huey comforts her, promising they won't leave her behind again and making jokes about leaving Louie behind instead.  

His kindness is seen towards his siblings too. One of my favourite examples is The Living Mummies of Toth Rah! Huey is quick to comfort Dewey when his facts don't quite gel with Dewey's idea of a mummy army.

D: "Oh man what if there's a whole army of mummies down here?"

H: "Unlikely mummification was an expensive process meant for royalty it would be rare for more than one… mummy… Toth Ra was pretty rich I bet there's at least six."  

Huey hasn't even finished his sentence before he's twigged that he has upset Dewey and then he immediately alters what he is saying to cheer Dewey back up. And Dewey is cheered.

Huey often notices when the others are going too far with Donald. In the House of the Lucky Gander, when Louie is saying how cool Gladstone and Scrooge are, slightly Donald, Huey chips in when Donald looks downcast.

H: Hey come on Uncle Donald is kind of cool.  

It's maybe not the most ringing endorsement and his delivery is a little hesitant as though he doesn't quite believe what he's saying. And maybe he doesn't. Huey isn’t a great liar and as far as the triplets have seen Donald hasn't done anything especially cool at this point. But Huey is trying to cheer Donald up. Unlike Dewey and Louie who can be a little oblivious and careless with others around them, most of the time Huey is incredibly kind and thoughtful.

(Just not when he's angry - you may not like him when he's angry!)

Similarly when Donald is preparing for his job interview in Woo-oh! he cooks Donald a good luck breakfast. This is a really nurturing gesture, and it's nice to see Huey (and Louie who tries to dress him) trying to take care of their uncle.

Huey isn't just kind to his family and friends, but extends this even to people who are technically his enemies. He is calm and patient with the Beagle Brothers in Day of the Only Child! He shows himself to be a great teacher and gives out praise and encouragement which quickly endears him to the Beagle Brothers who haven't been shown anything like the kindness Huey gives them. And he gives it to them without thought. It doesn't occur to him that teaching these kind of skills to people who have previously tried to kidnap him may not be a good idea - he is simply happy to share what he has learnt.

“the poachers knot was a good instinct but what you want here is a double overhead noose”

A lovely moment in this episode that further showcases both Huey's nurturing nature and his kind heart is when he tries the food Bouncer cooks. He is clearly apprehensive but tries the food anyway because it was cooked for him. When it is (surprisingly) good he is quick to offer compliments.

Huey is also kind to Gavin the bigfoot. We the audience know this is misplaced kindness. But after finding the injured Gavin and helping him, Huey's instinct is to take the bigfoot home and care for him. This is despite the fact that keeping Gavin in the house could get Huey in trouble, something he is obviously aware of as he goes to lengths to keep the bigfoot secret.  

As well as being kind, Huey is protective. He is especially protective of his brothers. He's protective in big ways like in the Living Mummies of Toth Rah! the expression on his face when he learns Louie and Webby are missing/trapped shows just how much he cares and worries. He clings to the bars like a safety net, and then when he turns his expression shows his fury.

Another example is in the Impossible Summit of Mount Neverrest where the others being in danger prompts Huey to realise they are going too far. He doesn't want them to be hurt, and isn't willing to risk the danger for a badge.

 Huey is also protective in smaller ways. In The Other Bin of Scrooge McDuck! Huey tries to stop Louie manipulating Dewey into doing the laundry, pointing out to Louie how mad Dewey is going to be. Huey seems to have a strong moral compass: he is often against Louie's morally ambiguous actions like stealing from the little girl in The Spear of Selene. He also quickly loses faith in Gizmoduck once Gizmoduck begins to work for Beaks as Gizmoduck is no longer performing real heroics and asks Gizmoduck to literally throw away Huey's faith.

 I'll end with my favourite Huey moment. Just like Dewey there are a lot to choose from but I think I'm split pretty fifty fifty for two that could be considered his best for me.

The first is his utter fascination and adoration for the waters of auraidon. How calming he finds it is adorable.

H: Water. Dancing. Calm. Washing over me. Never felt… so at peace.

My second favourite moment of his is a bit of a cop out because I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned it before, but it's everything he does in The Missing Links of Mooreshire! It's one of my favourite episodes of the first season and Huey is on top form. He charmed me the first time with his commentator voice and it still makes me laugh every time.

H: Glomgold now very obviously switching the official coin for one that has heads on both sides.

L: Very sneaky.

H: He tosses the double headed coin… and Glomgold has called - tails!

I hope you enjoyed this what's so great about Huey series. Huey is a fantastic character and I’m looking forward to see how he’s going to develop in the next season. 

(Next up: Louie!)