#Donald could read it but I think it will make him more mad than anything

[brattylikestoeat]

These three black books hold 10+ years of my life. Everything from random grocery and to do list, notes from college, journal entries, life events, pieces of my novels, men, name, dates, locations.

[malarkgirlypop]

MEDIC! Part 35 (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC)

OK, so it's long and there may be a treat at the end 😉

WARNING: 18+, you've been warned!

Based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, not hate to anyone involved.

Tag list: @imusicaddict, @b00ks1ut , @mstiemountainhop, @awaterfalls anyone else please let me know.

George leaned in placing a gentle kiss on my cheek before handing me over to Don. We pressed ourselves together as I wrapped my arms around his neck. I didn’t say anything as we rocked. I rested my head on his chest listening to his steady heartbeat. 

I was so tired fighting with him, I missed being in his arms.

“Are you still mad at me?” He asked gently, his voice rumbling in his chest I laid my head on. 

“Yes.” I said curtly. “But I’m more sad than angry.” 

“I’m sorry for my cruel words and accusations. I’m sorry for hurting you.” He whispered

“It doesn’t matter anyway you don’t believe me.”  

“That’s not true, I do believe you.” 

I pulled back to look into his eyes. “What? But you said you wanted space?” 

“I did. You basically blew my mind, more than once! I needed some space, to breathe, to think, to wrap my head around what you had shown me. I understand I was cruel and I didn’t handle the situation very well. I stormed off and left you to think the worst, and then I ignored you for a couple of days. And for that I’m sorry, that was never my intention, but you do have to understand that at that moment I wasn’t thinking very clearly.” 

I nodded my head as I listened to him. 

“I still can’t believe you’re from 2023.” Don shook his head in amazement. 

“Hey, shhh. Not so loud!” I pulled him closer looking around to make sure no one had heard him. 

“You’re the only person who gets to know this secret about me. Also I’m not telling you anything about the future ‘cause I’m not going to spoil it, but also I can’t remember most of what happens.”   

Don laughed and smiled down at me. I felt my heart swell, I had been so sad without him that my whole body ached. But with just one smile I felt as if I could fly. The feeling didn’t last long when reality crashed back down, I would still have to leave. 

Malarkey seemed to be able to read my inner thoughts as his face grew more serious again. 

“I spoke to Speirs.” 

I cautiously raised my glance towards him.

“You’re not planning on coming home.” He sounded disappointed and hurt, I could see it all swirling behind his brown eyes. 

“I can’t.” I bit my lip as he sighed. Don was the only person I could now truly explain myself to. 

“If the shimmer appears again, I think I have to go.” I explained to him, but he shook his head. 

“Who told you that?” 

“No one told me that, but I don’t think I would be allowed to stay.” 

“And why is that?” Don questioned. 

“Well, what if I stay and the things I do change the course of the future and the world falls apart because of it. This isn’t my timeline to change. There is a theory called the butterfly effect. It's basically one small change in the atmosphere that can cause chaos elsewhere. If I stay and alter the present it may detrimentally affect the future.” I rambled on as his brows knitted together. 

“But you’ve been here for months, wouldn’t that have affected the future?” He asked. 

I sighed, shaking my head, “That’s not just the only reason I can’t stay. Don, I wouldn’t be able to get back into America. I’m not legally a citizen. I wasn’t born there, I have no identification, I don’t even have a family who can vouch for me.” 

I watched him bite his cheek as he thought. “Surely there would be another way?” 

“Can we discuss this another time? I came out to clear my head, not worry more about things.” I pleaded. I was fighting panic attacks most of the time when I started thinking about my choice. 

My biggest fear when I was younger was death, an odd fear for a child to have. But when your mother is diagnosed with an incurable cancer and is told she only has so long to live, the fear of death is explainable. 

I remember laying in bed thinking of dying, the thoughts were so overwhelming, all the unknown. Suddenly I would be here alive and then I wouldn’t, buried under ground. Would I get to live again, or was that it? Would I be content with my life, even thinking of it now sent my heart racing and stomach twisting. 

I never thought I would have a worse fear. 

Turns out when you lose everyone you loved, death seems more enticing. 

Now I’m back in a space where I am loved and love others, and the fear of death creeps back in. 

However my death has a new face, a new perspective. 

Do I stay and potentially cause so much chaos the world falls around me, killing everyone I love. Or do I leave those who I cherish most, in a world I can never return back to, being unsure if I saved their lives, and never getting the answers I want. 

The choice had me spiralling, and now I had another factor. Don knew my choice, and he knows what he wants me to choose. I know he will choose selfishly, I don’t blame him. But it’s my choice in the end, and I can’t be responsible for more death. 

“Hey, I’ll drop it. Don’t look so worried.” Don’s fingers found my chin lifting it slightly to meet his eye line as we swayed. His hand dropped down to my racing heart. 

“It’s ok.” Malarkey cooed softly, pulling me in. I dragged in deep breaths trying to calm myself before I slipped into a panic attack. 

“Can we talk about anything else, please?” I whispered shakily. 

Don pulled back as he nodded his head. “You’re beautiful. I didn’t get to tell you.” 

The comment quickly pulled my focus as a blush spread across my cheeks. 

“When I saw you under the starlight, I just about fainted.” He smiled brightly down at me. 

“Ok big guy, I said talk about something else not lie to me.” I chuckled, patting his chest. 

“Lie to you. Emily, my god!” 

“What?” I exclaimed as he looked at me incredulously. 

“You seduced me in the middle of war when we barely showered and wore the same clothes for days on end. Even then I thought you were so fucking sexy. And then you come out in this dress all done up. I lost my goddamn mind when I saw you. All I can stare at is your plump red lips and all I can think about is how badly I want to rip this dress off of you.” Don whispered in my ear, his lips trailing the sensitive skin under my jaw. 

My eyes widened as thoughts flooded my head, I couldn’t stop thinking about Don ripping the dress from my body and then devouring me. 

I swallowed trying to focus on him, but the smirk he held as he glanced down at me sent me reeling. I fanned my hot face, trying to calm down my racing mind. 

“Got you all hot and bothered did I?” Don chuckled into my ear. 

I opened my mouth ready to retort when Lieb cut in. 

“You two, let’s go, the bar’s closing!” He yelled. We looked around the room, finding that everyone else had cleared out and the barman had started aggressively sweeping towards us, signalling for Don and I to leave. 

I hadn’t even said goodbye to any of the ladies I had come with. I hoped they got home safe. Don took my hand and led me out of the bar. The rest of Easy stood outside waiting for us, they smoked and talked amongst themselves. Seeing that we had finally come out, they started back towards the camp. 

Don and I walked behind the group, our hands intertwined. 

“I love all of you.” Don whispered in my ear. I looked up at him shocked. “I know you Em, you can’t hide anything from me.” 

“You knew I would be upset about that?” I asked. “I’m surprised you even remembered.” 

“Emily, I remember every conversation I have with you. You are permanently seared into my brain.” He lifted our hands kissing the back of mine. 

It was weird to think he thought about me as much as I did him. I hadn’t been loved like this in so long. I would miss it. I shook the thought from my head before it consumed my mind. I wanted to focus on the now, I would cross that bridge when I came to it. 

********************************

We finally arrived back at the base. Don and I bid goodnight to the men as they all headed back to bed. But Don stayed at my side. 

“Are you not going to bed?” I asked as I nudged him with my elbow. 

“Not unless you’re coming with me.” 

I laughed loudly, trying to muffle the sound with my palm, I didn’t need to wake the whole base. 

“What has got into you?” I playfully hit him as he grinned.   

“You.” Don’s lips fell onto my cheek, kissing me gently. 

“Don.” I whispered harshly, trying to look around to make sure we weren’t spotted. 

“Yours or mine?”

“What?” 

“Are we going to my bed or yours?” He elaborated. 

I gawked at the man, at a loss for words. He didn’t give me a chance to choose, scooping me up into his arms, he headed towards my bed.  

My room was a single bed, with no roommates. The army was still trying to enforce the no fraternising policy, and had separated me from the men. Little did they know I spent months on end sleeping in holes with the lot of them.  

Don refused to put me down to unlock the door, as I awkwardly reached out from his arms trying to get the key into the hole, his inability to keep still was making it harder than it needed to be.  

“Open the door.” Don laughed as I missed the lock for the millionth time. 

“Put me down and this would be a lot faster.” I said in a sarcastic sing-songy tone. 

“Never!” He declared triumphantly as he nuzzled his face into my neck. I yelped, trying to fend him off as well as open the door. 

Finally after wrangling Don, I got the door unlocked. I was going to turn around to give Don a shit eat grin but the tall redhead had other plans. Like a golden retriever on steroids, he bolted into the room and threw me onto the bed. I flew through the air at a great speed, landing in a heap on the soft comforter. 

I lifted my head to look at the man in disbelief, only to find his whole body flying towards me, arms outstretched like a tiger pouncing on its prey.  

“Don!” I yelled in what felt like slow motion as he descended upon me. His lips smashed into my cheeks as he peppered my face and neck with kisses. 

“What is going on?” I tried to pull him back to ask him but he wiggled free as he nipped and sucked at my bare skin. 

“You, Emily, have been taunting me all night in that dress.” He panted breathlessly as he finally ceased his assault. Don’s eyes met mine and the need that exuded from his pupils had my heart pumping. 

“I thought I looked nice, but not that nice.” I uttered in shock. 

“You’re kidding?” Don shook his head in disbelief. 

“You look like a goddess. As soon as I saw you I knew I was done for.” The comments from Don made my cheeks hot. Never in my life had I ever felt desirable, and here he was almost drooling over me. 

“I think you need your eyes checked or something.” I joked half heartedly, Don gaze was pinning, so much so it caused goosebumps to raise on my skin.

Malarkey’s eyes darkened. "I think your eyes need to be checked, sweetheart. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, and if you think I'm going to let you talk like that, you're wrong."

My mouth fell open at his bold statement, a nervous chuckle falling from my lips, but his comment vibrated straight through my core. 

“I don’t think you understand the absolute chokehold you have on me.” Don’s eyes bored into my soul. 

Teeth found my lower lip biting gently, but it wasn’t mine. Don had captured my face in his hands pulling me forward to take my lower lip into his mouth. I couldn’t stop the moan that fell from my lips as my hands dragged down his back. In moments his mouth was on mine, kissing me with such hunger it was as if he was starved. 

His hands slid from my jaw up into my hair, tangling at the base of my neck as he pulled gently, causing me to gasp. Don had me pinned to the bed, his weight bearing down on me, we were so close I could feel the heat growing between us. I couldn’t help myself as I bucked my hips up into him, he groaned into my mouth as our tongues explored each other. 

My hands fell to his top, ripping open the buttons of his shirt, I heard them clatter to the floor but paid no mind as I helped Don remove his clothes. 

Don was much more gentle with my dress. He stood from the bed pulling me with him. Malarkey bent down gathering the hem as he slid it up my legs slowly, pressing his hands into my inner thighs as he did so. 

I lifted my hands over my head as he slowly stood, pulling the dress with him. Don kissed me gently on the lips before he removed the dress altogether. For some reason I felt more exposed and vulnerable than the last time we were together. I covered my arms over my stomach, aware of how on show I really was. 

Malarkey’s brows furrowed as he watched me. He stepped closer pulling me into him. Don captured my wrists bringing them back down to my sides.

His fingers traced down my arms, swirling across my stomach as he circled me like a shark. His fingers trailed my skin as he walked around me. I physically shivered as Don’s hot breath fanned my bare shoulders. Taking my hand he led me over to the full length mirror in the corner of the room. I stood in the reflection still wearing my undergarments, Don stood behind me only wearing his pants. 

Malarkey pressed my back into his chest as he watched me in the mirror. His lips found my ear as he pressed soft kisses to my sensitive skin. 

“Do you see how fucking stunning you are?” Don asked as his hands travelled down my skin.

I shook my head, I only saw plain old me, nothing special, nothing remarkable. I never found myself to be beautiful or attractive, I was just me. 

“Should I spell it out for you?” Don whispered as he continued to stare at me in the mirror. 

“I love your curls, how they frame your big eyes and gorgeous face, they cascade down your pretty neck to your shoulders.” He presses kisses to each part of my body. 

“Your chest, that drives me wild.” His fingers dipped inside my bra playing with my hard nipples. 

I shivered as his fingers traced down the middle of my abdomen, I tilted my head back into the crook of his shoulder sighing in pleasure.

“Focus.” He muttered, bringing my head forward again to look in the mirror.

“Those curves.” I giggled as he lightly glided over my hips tickling me as he went. 

“Every part of you is perfect, Emily. I will never stop telling you how much you mean to me.” 

Even in the heat of it all his words had me choking up. Tears welled in my eyes. I took a shaky breath trying to regulate my feelings. No one had ever loved me, all of me, and voiced it so openly. I had never been loved so fiercely. 

“I love you so much, Don. I love you so much it hurts.” I let the warm tears slip down my cheeks as I turned and buried my face into his chest.   

Don’s laugh vibrated through me. I raised my head, watching his eyes crinkle at the sides as he tipped his head back laughing even harder. 

“What’s so funny?” I asked confused. 

“I’m trying to make love to you, and instead I’ve made you cry.” I couldn’t help but join in the hysterics. I grinned up at the man as he finally found his composure looking back down at me. 

“I love you so much it hurts too.” My face cracked, I didn’t think I could smile any bigger. I lunged at Don, standing on my tiptoes to kiss him. I cupped his face in my hands as he bent down to deepen the kiss. 

“So what are you waiting for? Make love to me already, big man.” Even though I had asked for it I couldn’t help the yelp that left my lips as he picked me up and carried me back over to the bed. 

He laid me gently on the bed, his fingers dragged the rest of the clothes off my body. My hands found the belt of his pants, hastily undoing the fastenings and tugging them down until we were both exposed fully. 

We kissed each other hungrily, needing to be closer to each other than ever before, like we wanted to crawl into each other’s skin. His fingers traced my every curve, memorising me with his fingertips. I did the same, my lips trailed down his body, licking and sucking as I went. I watched in satisfaction as his head fell back against the bed as sighs and moans left his lips. 

I had never felt so wet in my life, my need dripping down my legs. Through hazy eyes Don reached down between my legs swirling over my core, I muffled my screams into his neck. 

Don flipped us over so I was on my back and he loomed over me. His face hovered over mine as he stared lustfully down at me. 

I wriggled in anticipation, I could feel him resting on my stomach, I needed him inside me. 

“What are you waiting for?” I breathed softly. 

“You.” Don murmured, his voice low and filled with need. 

“I’m all yours Don, no need to wait.” 

“All mine?” Don couldn’t stop the smirk that spread across his lips. 

“And I’m all yours. No one can ever take you from me, they will have to pry you from my cold dead hands.” Don’s lips brushed mine as he spoke, sending shivers up my spine. 

I smiled up at the beautiful man that lingered above me. Who would’ve thought that putting my hand somewhere it wasn’t supposed to be, I would end up with the most breathtaking love I had ever experienced. 

Don lips pulled me from my thoughts as he crashed down into mine. His hips ground against mine, causing gasps and squeals to leave my throat. 

Malarkey raised up onto his forearms, one hand snaked down to between us. I watched him move himself to my entrance, his eyes flicking up to confirm with me I was ready. I bit my lip nodding my head. My hands found his hips as he slowly slid forward into me. 

I sucked in a breath as he slowly pushed into me, I watched his eyes squeeze shut as she held his breath. We stilled together, before he rocked back. The action caused pleasure to ripple through my body. I gripped his shoulders, pulling him down onto me. 

“God, you feel so good.” Don breathed out, his voice thick with need. 

I couldn’t form a sentence as my head swirled with lust. The only noises that left my mouth were moans and whimpers of pleasure. My fingers dug into the soft flesh of his back as he moved slowly in and out of me, his pace beginning to fasten as ragged breaths fell from his lips.  

Don gripped my hips, angling himself so that he was thrusting deeper inside of me. 

“Don.” I gasped, my head falling against the bed as my eyes rolled back in my head. 

“Don’t stop, please.” I begged, I had never heard my voice so desperate. 

Malarkey shifted from his position drawing out of me quickly, I whined at the loss of his cock. My head shot up from its place on the bed, I gawked at the man. But my shocked glare didn’t last long as he stood at the end of the bed, bending forward he gripped my hips and tugged me down to him. 

With my hips hanging off the end bed, Don’s hands clutched around my ass lifting me to meet him. I arched my back as he slammed back into me with no warning. A strangled scream left my lips as pleasure coursed through my veins. 

Now only my shoulder blades made contact with the comforter, the rest of my body was suspended in the air. Don moved in and out of me faster, the sounds of our heavy breathing and bodies slapping together filled the small room. 

My hands found my breasts, squeezing them as Don slammed in and out of me, cursing silently under his breath as he watched me. 

“You’re so fucking stunning, Em.” Don growled lowly. 

In one smooth motion Don flipped me onto my front. My feet were placed on the floor as he gripped my hips. The angle we were in meant that he plunged in deeper than before, hitting the spot that made my eyes roll back in my head and toes curl. Don’s fingers tangled in my curls pulling me so that he could kiss me. His free hand snaked around my waist pulling me closer. 

With every thrust I came nearer to my edge. Don’s lips attacked my neck, nipping and sucking as he went. I gripped onto his arm that held me tightly to him, my nails digging into his flesh, I felt as if I were about to float away if I wasn’t anchored down. 

I whined as Don left me, clutching to his arm to keep me on my feet. 

“I want to see you finish.” Malarkey whispered in my ear, his hands found their way under my thighs as he picked me up. I wrapped my legs around him, as he walked us back to the bed. 

Don lay me back down as he hovered above me, his lips pressing to mine as he slid back inside me. I sighed in satisfaction as he filled me up again.

“I love you.” I whispered breathlessly when his lips left mine. 

“I’m glad we found each other.” Don replied back, finally sending me to my finish. I shuddered underneath him as he did the same. With our breaths mingling and bodies intertwined, we completed each other. 

--------------------------------------

Chapter 36

[lettheladylead]

running in circles

chapter thirty-six: i can’t stand the sound of another heartbeat in the room summary: Goldie meets Donald and Della Duck. warnings: references to sex, nothing explicit wordcount: 5694 playlist (will be updated as chapters are posted): shorturl.at/bfBCQ ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33776632/chapters/97715214 site link: https://sites.google.com/view/running-in-circles/chapters/chapter36

here’s chapter thirty-six!! text will also be included in this post for those of you that don’t use ao3:

1995; Duckburg -> Egypt:

At eleven years old, Donald Duck thought he knew everything about his uncle.

So far he and his sister had spent two full summers staying in the old (very very very old) man’s lavish mansion, going on crazy adventures and finding treasure and fighting bad guys and definitely having a unique summer vacation compared to his friends at school.

Over those summers (and the occasional winter break…and spring break…and occasional weekend), Donald and Della had grown more and more curious about their uncle. Their mom had told them the basic necessary information - he’s her older brother, he’s the richest duck in the world, he founded and owns the city of Duckburg - but not much more than that. So whenever he went to work and left them alone, they’d dig around his files and his photo albums and his whatever-they-could-find to learn more about him.

In July of 1993, they found his autobiography. It was long and boring, and they skipped most of it because they didn’t really care about anything that happened a million years ago. Uncle Scrooge didn’t seem bothered that they’d read it, he just said he hoped it would inspire them to greatness of their own. Donald did not feel inspired. He just felt bad for his uncle - the man didn’t write about any relationships outside of business or family. How sad was that?

In August of 1994, they found a bunch of women’s clothes in one of his dresser drawers. Naturally they wanted to ask him about it, but Duckworth told them to leave it alone. Fine. There were probably a lot of explanations for that and Donald thought some of them would make Uncle Scrooge seem a little cooler. But he’d just have to let it go.

That was, of course, until March of 1995. Donald and Della finally learned that their uncle did have at least one relationship outside of family and work. They also learned, presumably, the source of the women’s clothing. Though that was super gross to think about.

That was the day they met Glittering Goldie O’Gilt, Uncle’s Scrooge’s rival and…ex-girlfriend?

—

Goldie never had an opportunity to confront Scrooge about his little book. She’d thought about it for days and days after binge reading it, let her anger and confusion stew and fester, but then…nothing. The next time she ran into him after that day was more than two months later, and he surprised her with a nice dinner at home.

She never figured out what the occasion was, but it was nice and romantic and she didn’t feel like being mad at him anymore.

And after that, things were…normal. Well, normal for them.

Every once in a while they’d talk on the phone, occasionally they’d go on an adventure together or she’d crash some event he was at to get on his nerves. It was fun, actually. There were some rough situations, but for the most part it was really good.

Then, suddenly, around 1993, Scrooge stopped answering the phone. He stopped acknowledging her threats. He stopped going to business events that were easy for her to crash. He just stopped.

And it was frustrating. Goldie didn’t think he’d found someone new - he wasn’t with any new women in paparazzi photos - but she also didn’t think his company was doing something so crazy that he needed to be busy 24/7. She’d thought they were in a good place for a little while there, so she was left wondering what happened. Did she do something wrong? She always did things wrong. That shouldn’t have been news to him.

But they’d had several-years-long breaks before, so Goldie decided to give him a bit of time. She had things to keep her busy, too. Like…more treasure hunting. And traveling. So much traveling. She still visited her many Blackjacks, even if she wasn’t in charge of them anymore. And they’d just opened up a new one! In Reykjavik, Iceland. She wasn’t involved in that decision so Goldie was curious to see how it would play out.

1995 was different, though. She didn’t really have anywhere to be or any people to talk to and she missed him and he still hadn’t reached out to her at all. Not even for her birthday. And he definitely knew her birthday after her little tantrum back in ‘68, so he had no excuse! So a week after her birthday, Goldie finally decided she was heading to Duckburg again. She wanted to see him and nothing was going to get in the way of that.

—

She reached Scrooge’s bedroom window with the same ease as always. He had his anti-magic traps set up for De Spell, but nothing that Goldie couldn’t slip around. Using one of her grappling hooks to climb up the side of his mansion came so easily to her it was like breathing, and with a quick flick of the window latch - Goldie was inside.

Of course, Scrooge was not. Well, what did she expect at three in the afternoon on a Wednesday? Scrooge was probably at work. But she could say hi to Duckworth and play around in the Other Bin until he came home.

She thought about going to visit him at work, but he’d be home soon enough. She could take her time and get comfortable.

Goldie exited the bedroom quietly and took two steps into the hallway when she heard something strange and unfamiliar.

“COME ON, DUMBELLA! GIVE IT BACK!”

She blinked twice and walked to the railing so she could look down at the first floor of the house. She was greeted with the sight of two young ducklings running around - first a girl, holding a guitar above her head, and then a boy, chasing her angrily.

What the hell?

One thing she never expected to find in Scrooge’s home was…children. Were they his? Was that why he’d disappeared for the past few years?

(She stared at them while they ran around and realized she didn’t know anything about duckling ages. They didn’t look two. Maybe ten?)

If they were ten, then they probably weren’t his. Or, well, maybe he didn’t know about them until recently. With all his dating around, he could’ve gotten some young thing pregnant and not known about it until she finally came to collect some checks. 

And then he…adopted them? Let them into his home? None of that sounded right. Why would she assume these kids were Scrooge’s? Just because they looked a bit like him?

They certainly didn’t look like Bentina. Wasn’t she a bit old to be a mother, anyway?

Goldie wasn’t sure what to think. Her thoughts were reeling. She was being  absolutely ridiculous. She didn’t have any idea how to react to the rugrats.

“Hello, Miss O’Gilt.”

She turned her head towards the familiar voice and frowned at the expression on Duckworth’s face. How long had he been watching her? He could probably sense her confusion about the kids and she’d bet good money that he wouldn’t tell her a goddamn thing.

“Duckworth.”

“Would you like me to let Mr. McDuck know you’re here?”

Goldie glared at him, feeling a bit judged. “Isn’t he at work?”

“Not today. The children are on Spring Break, so he wanted to be home to spend time with them,” he said casually as he walked away.

She knew he’d said that just to get under her skin. Goldie knew so much about Scrooge that not knowing something, especially something so significant, bothered her a lot. And Duckworth absolutely knew that about her and he probably thought it was hilarious. He was probably whatever-the-butler-version-of-laughing-is all the way down the stairs.

Goldie eventually started to follow him and ended up at the top of the main stairs in Scrooge’s foyer. She looked down at the first floor and watched two pairs of eyes turn to look right back at her.

“Who’re you?!”

“Did Uncle Scrooge hire a nanny?!”

She sighed and settled into a deep-set frown. Children.

“No, Dumbella, she’s probably some kind of cursed villain!”

“You don’t know that! What if she’s a villainous curse?!”

“I am neither of those things,” Goldie said finally, though she was struggling to understand what the young boy was saying. Still, her response worked surprisingly well as she watched the two kids go quiet and stare at her suspiciously.

The kids looked at each other for a moment, nodded, then looked back up at her. The little girl was the one who decided to speak next. “So then…who are you and how’d you get in the house?”

Goldie opened her mouth to speak when she was interrupted.

“Goldie O’Gilt!”

The three of them turned their heads to look at Scrooge who’d just walked in through the doorway to the living room. He was glaring up at her, though there was a fondness in his expression that only Goldie could understand.

“Hey there, Scroogey.”

“Scroogey?”

Duckworth stood behind Scrooge for a few moments, then turned around and went back to work. He usually seemed entertained by their chaotic little relationship, but Goldie supposed he couldn’t stick around for every fight.

“Duckworth said I had a visitor ‘n then I heard the kids yellin’ about villains...I almost thought Magica was back.”

Goldie took a few steps down the stairs. “Has she been visiting a lot lately?”

Scrooge rolled his eyes and leaned on his cane. “Even once is a lot when it comes to her.”

The two kids looked frustrated as they watched the casual conversation, clearly hoping for more context instead of listening to idle chatter.

Goldie finished coming down the stairs and got closer to Scrooge, putting one hand on her hip. “So what’s with the rugrats, sourdough?” she asked, the tiniest bit of jealous anger in her voice. She hoped he didn’t notice.

He glanced down at the two of them and then back up at Goldie. “This is Donald and Della,” he said, walking behind them for emphasis. “My kids.”

Unable to stop herself, Goldie frowned deeply and couldn’t contain her expression of anger and confusion and embarrassment. That was, until Donald and Della looked up at Scrooge and responded to him with a combination of laughter and disgusted sounds.

“You’re not our dad!” Della said, nudging her elbow into Scrooge’s side.

“Yeah! Our dad’s in Jamaica!” Donald agreed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Don’t be weird, Uncle Scrooge!”

Uncle.

Goldie slowly closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to fight the urge to punch Scrooge in the face. He absolutely knew she was jealous and wanted to see how she’d react to that sort of news and she played right into his hands like some kind of sucker. He was the one who was supposed to play into her hands! She needed to start conning people again or she’d completely lose her touch.

“You’re hilarious,” she said pointedly.

Scrooge chuckled and patted both of the kid’s heads. “They’re Hortense’s twins. I told ye about her tryin’ to get pregnant, right?”

“Hmmm…” Goldie tried to think back to the last time they talked about either of his sisters. “...maybe? Good for her, I guess.”

As the billionaire was about to respond again, Della suddenly climbed up on his back and picked up his top hat, placing her head on top of Scrooge’s and the hat on top of her head. “OKAY BUT LIKE WHO ARE YOU AND WHY ARE YOU HERE?”

Scrooge reached up and grabbed Della, placing her back down on the floor. “This is my…um, this is Goldie.”

Goldie raised a curious eyebrow at his little slip-up. What exactly was he thinking of saying just then?

“Yeah you said that already. But who is Goldie?” Della asked impatiently.

“You’ve never mentioned me?” Goldie asked faux-sadly (though she was a little sad about it, if she was being honest).

He side-eyed her and glanced down at the kids. “Goldie is…an old friend.”

“Old ‘cause her hair is gray or old like you’ve known her forever?”

“C’mon, Della, obviously it’s both!”

Goldie had to stop her eyes from rolling into the back of her head. This was exactly the commentary she expected when she decided to let her hair go gray. Well, she preferred to think of it as silver. But most people saw them as the same.

Scrooge looked up at her and smiled that stupid handsome smile that made her want to kiss him. “Ye look nice in silver, dear.”

Donald and Della looked at each other suddenly, realizing something simultaneously.

“Wait a sec…oh, no!”

“I think she’s Uncle Scrooge’s…”

“...girlfriend!” they shouted together.

Scrooge turned positively red and put an agitated hand to his temple as the two kids started gagging and rolling around saying things about ‘gross old people romance’ and whatnot. He sighed deeply and Goldie watched knowingly as his temper flared. Oh, those kids were about to have a bad time.

“DUCKWORTH!”

The butler appeared next to Goldie in an instant and she was embarrassed that he managed to startle her.

“Yes, Mr. McDuck?”

“Take them to their room,” he said grumpily, ignoring their apologies as Duckworth dragged them upstairs.

Goldie simply watched, not really sure how to react to everything. She was a bit agitated. Not just because the kids called her old and gross, but…seeing Scrooge with kids was weird for her. For a lot of reasons. Even though they weren’t his kids, they were still spending time with him. He had apparently taken off work to hang out with them? What was up with that?

“They’re so much like Hortense.”

She shrugged. “So, what, you’re babysitting?”

“Ah, well…” Scrooge awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. “At first Hortense just dropped them off here once in a while. Then it turned into every other weekend. And now…they stay here over school breaks.”

Goldie stared at him. “That’s…a lot.”

“Aye.”

“And you’re enjoying it?”

“Ye know, Goldie,” Scrooge said dreamily, looking up the stairs. “Even though they’re a handful and often a nuisance, they’re also…they make me feel young again. I never expected myself to enjoy spendin’ time with bairns, but here I am.”

She crossed her arms loosely - it looked more like she was hugging herself than being stern. Goldie was surprised. And annoyed. She didn’t want to talk about kids, especially not with Scrooge. It was a weird sore subject for her and he didn’t know and he wouldn’t get it. “So I wanted to ask if you know about Antony and Cleobatra.”

“Oh.” Scrooge turned to her, realizing the conversation about children was over. He didn’t mind - he was pretty sure that Goldie didn’t like kids since she never showed any interest in them. “I have.”

“I thought we could go look for their tomb,” she said casually, picking at some fibers on her shirt. “But I guess you can’t, since you’ve got kids now.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be daft, O’Gilt! Duckworth can watch the two of ‘em while you and I hunt down the Lost Tomb of Cleobatra!”

Goldie smiled at him, excited and trying not to be too obvious about it. “Sounds perfect.”

—

“Do you know Goldie?” Della asked Duckworth, wiggling around. “Is she our aunt?!”

Duckworth huffed - making a noise that some people might’ve even called a laugh. “Not quite.”

“So you do know her, then,” Donald pointed out. “Why’s she here? What’s she like?”

The butler placed the two kids on the floor and glanced back down the hallway, listening to see if Scrooge and Goldie were still downstairs. After confirming, he leaned over towards the kids. “Miss O’Gilt and your uncle have been seeing each other for a long, long time. Longer than I’ve been alive.”

“Wait, what?” Donald said.

Della stuck out her tongue. “So then…they’re, like, married, right?”

Duckworth didn’t want to get into the gritty details, so he shrugged. “She’s not your aunt. Their relationship is…complicated. Mr. McDuck doesn’t like to talk about it so much.”

“That’s dumb. If they’ve been dating forever, then they’re gonna get married eventually!” Della said, jumping onto her bed. “We should get to know our future aunt!”

Donald leaned against his bed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t get it. Why wouldn’t he want to talk about her? She’s…pretty, I guess. For an old lady, anyway.”

“As I said before, it’s complicated.” Duckworth stepped outside and grabbed their doorknob. “I’m sure you’ll learn more when you’re older, but for now…stay in your room.” He shut the door behind him and left.

The twins looked at each other knowingly.

“There must be something weird about her.”

“Maybe she’s an alien in disguise!” Donald said.

“Or a succubus!”

“What’s a succubus?”

“Some kind of soul-sucking demon lady. There was one on last week’s episode of Darkwing Duck!”

“That show’s so dumb.”

“You’re dumb!”

“No, you!”

They glared at each other for a minute before their anger fizzled and transformed into more confusion.

“Uncle Scrooge definitely knows about whatever’s wrong with her, so she’s probably not a soul-sucking demon.”

“I guess. Maybe she’s like…a vampire, but retired?”

“A retired vampire? Where would she get her blood?”

Della gasped. “What if Uncle Scrooge provides her with blood bags from the hospital!?”

“I don’t know…I can imagine him selling them to her, but giving them away?”

“But he’s in love with her or whatever, so that’s probably messing with his head!”

Donald thought about that for a few seconds, rubbing the bottom of his beak in thought. “You make a good point.”

“I know!”

“I think we both know what we have to do to figure this out,” Donald said, walking towards the door.

Della followed him, fists clenched in front of her and feeling pumped and excited. “We’re totally following them, right?”

“We have to!”

“YES!” Della let out a quiet whoop as Donald opened the door and they listened carefully to find out where the old couple was going next.

—

“So what made you want to go after the tomb? Just lookin’ for a reason to ride in my new plane?” Scrooge asked, sitting comfortably in the back. It was large and impressive and his current pilot was a careful, straight-forward man who had decades of piloting experience and served in the United States Air Force during World War II. A little part of him wanted Goldie to be impressed and comforted by all of that.

Goldie rolled her eyes. “I came across a map during a little excavation and realized it had to do with Cleobatra,” she answered. “And I thought you might be able to help me out.”

Scrooge watched as she scooted closer to him on the bench, his fingers twitching. He wanted to put his arm around her. “I suppose you werenae wrong.”

“I rarely am,” she said with a smirk, leaning closer to his face. “It’s been a while since we spent any time together, you know.”

“I know,” he said quietly, leaning towards her to match. “I’ve been…busy.”

“Mhmm,” Goldie hummed, allowing the tip of her beak to brush against his. “Too busy to reach out?”

Scrooge lifted up a hand and placed it against her cheek. “You didnae reach out, either,” he whispered.

Their conversation ended abruptly with their beaks smushing together in an extended, passionate kiss. Scrooge kept his hands on her face, while one of Goldie’s hands found itself resting on his thigh. Two years wasn’t such a long time, but it felt like forever.

They continued to make out for a bit, but when Goldie adjusted her position to straddle Scrooge’s lap, they were interrupted by a loud screech.

Scrooge stood up suddenly and knocked Goldie onto the floor, barely registering the loud THUD! of her ass smacking into the metal. The both of them were too distracted by the source of the screech to pay much attention.

Della and Donald were staring at them - their heads poking out of a box that they’d clearly been hiding in. And the two of them looked absolutely horrified and disgusted by what they’d just witnessed. In fact, Scrooge had never seen a more scandalized expression on a duckling’s face in his entire life.

“Oh, my God, were you two gonna…like…have…?!”

“Ew, but you’re so old!”

“That’s so gross!”

“And why would you do it on a plane?! What is wrong with you?!”

Scrooge, face red and hands shaking the slightest bit, glared at the kids angrily. “What’re you two doin’ here?” He glanced down and caught Goldie’s expression - she was very, very unhappy - but decided to focus on the rapscallions that snuck onto his plane (not for the first time, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last).

“We just wanted to join in on the adventure…but not if it’s gonna be all gross like that!”

Donald was making gagging noises behind his sister while she spoke.

Scrooge didn’t find them very funny. “Argh, ye wee numpties! I didnae bring your passports!”

“We brought them.”

He blinked, not expecting that. “Oh. Um…well, I didnae bring enough supplies!”

Donald pulled two backpacks out from the box. “We brought our own.”

The trillionaire grimaced, trying to figure out his next excuse. “Well, I-...I didnae-”

“Scrooge,” Goldie interrupted, having finally picked herself up off the floor. “Just get over it. They’re here, we’re already halfway to Egypt. No point in turning around.”

“Oh yeah, I like her! She’s smart!” Della shouted.

Scrooge rolled his eyes. “They’re good on adventures, I swear, but I…I did miss spendin’ time with ye one-on-one,” he said quietly.

“It’s fine.” Goldie shrugged, having accepted defeat. “So we hunt for treasure without having sex. Not like we’ve never done that before.”

“Do we really need to be hearing this conversation?”

“I’m gonna tell mom you’re trying to traumatize us!”

Scrooge waved a dismissive hand at the twins. “We could leave them on the plane, if ye’d like.”

“Oh, please, sourdough.” Goldie motioned towards the kids with one hand. “They’ll just follow us recklessly and end up in serious trouble, then we’ll have to save them and we’ll never get our hands on the treasure. Easier to just bring them with so we know where they are.”

“That’s…sensible,” Scrooge said with genuine shock in his voice. “I’m just surprised you’re willin’ to spend so much time with…children.”

Della and Donald ran over to the adults and leaned against Goldie on either side of her legs. “She’s got the right idea, Uncle Scrooge!”

Goldie frowned and stared down at the little matted feathers on either side of her. “Don’t make it weird, Scrooge. It’s not like I haven’t spent time with children before.”

Scrooge didn’t respond to that, instead he watched as Donald and Della turned around and started to ask Goldie questions about herself and her life and where she came from. Goldie deflected their questions with nonsense, but Scrooge couldn’t stop the warmth spread throughout his chest at the sight of Goldie chatting casually with his family.

Seeing her with kids - kids of McDuck blood? It made his heart race. He’d wanted that so many times before. Though she obviously had no interest in bairns of her own…he could still fantasize if he wanted to.

—

Goldie was annoyed. Of course she was annoyed! She’d wanted to spend time with Scrooge and not think about kids or see him with kids or be bothered by kids or be called old and ugly and gross by kids. Her anger was perfectly reasonable.

But for whatever reason, she felt bad about being mad. She felt like she shouldn’t be mad, because Scrooge was spending time with his family and what did that have to do with her? She didn’t have any right to tell him he couldn’t. But she didn’t want to hang out with his family more than she already had. His sisters were one thing, they got along just fine in the few times they’d interacted. His sisters were old enough to understand that Goldie wasn’t marrying him or sticking around or anything like that and she didn’t have to explain herself to them.

Kids, however? Kids didn’t understand those kinds of things. Nor should they. But Goldie didn’t want to have to sit them down and explain that she liked their uncle very much but didn’t feel comfortable completely letting down her guard with him and so she always kept him at an emotional arms’ length. They’d probably respond with stupid shit like “but don’t you love each other?” or “why can’t you just talk about your feelings?”

So, yeah. She wasn’t all that surprised when the twins popped up out of nowhere on the plane, ready to get in the way and probably make this adventure ten times longer than it would’ve been otherwise. They had McDuck blood running through their veins, obviously they’d have big personalities and love to be involved in everything.

She decided to be nice to them. Well. Some version of nice. Well…alright, she wouldn’t be mean to them. Hopefully they wouldn’t get attached to her nor hate her. Ideally, they’d see her as a completely neutral entity that appeared every once in a while to annoy their uncle. Then there wouldn’t be any drama when she inevitably left them behind and took the treasure with her.

She could feel Scrooge’s eyes on her as she talked to his niece and nephew, and Goldie wanted to smack him. He was definitely enjoying her awkward misery. He probably thought it was hilarious to watch her embarrass herself in front of children.

“So…your uncle says you two have experience with this sort of thing?” Goldie asked suddenly, interrupting Della’s question about something to do with Ireland.

“Oh, yeah!” the young girl said excitedly. “I landed a plane when I was ten!”

“What.”

“And I’m a great lookout,” Donald said proudly. “I prefer music to adventuring, but…sometimes it can be fun. I like figuring out the puzzles!”

“...right.” Goldie looked up at Scrooge, who gave her a guilty smile. “I’m sure you all make a great little team.”

–-

Goldie did her best to avoid alone time with either of the twins while they traveled through Ibexandria. The girl was so talkative and the boy kept trying to grab onto her whenever he saw a scary bug. It was…obnoxious.

Scrooge didn’t seem to care. Or maybe he was just so used to their antics that he didn’t notice. Goldie was surprised by how comfortable he seemed around them. Scrooge around kids. She’d never thought it possible that he’d willingly spend time with them and even relish the opportunity. He seemed…softer.

Was that going to be a problem for them? She didn’t want it to be.

But it certainly made her feel out of place.

The Scrooge who she fell for (and who fell for her) was rough and hard-hearted and dangerous. And those traits would always be a part of him, deep down - far enough that his public image made him seem friendly, but close enough that she could bring it out of him when she pushed the right buttons.

It was harder to push those buttons with children around. She wasn’t interested in traumatizing anyone for life. But what would that mean for her and Scrooge?

Goldie watched uncomfortably as the twins danced around and pointed out every item on the street that they wanted to own, making Scrooge laugh. He was laughing at the idea of buying them unnecessary trinkets.

He was changing, thanks to his family. And she didn’t know if she could keep up.

–-

“So are you and Uncle Scrooge gonna get married?” Donald asked, rubbing the bruise on his arm.

Goldie sighed and continued to move rocks around, trying to get them back to where Scrooge and Della were. This kid was very difficult to understand. She wondered if his parents thought about getting him a speech therapist. “No.”

Donald watched her work, deciding if he should try to help. But his arm got hurt when the rocks fell, so she couldn’t be mad if he sat this one out. “Why not?”

“Because we just aren’t.” Goldie supposed this could’ve happened even if the kids weren’t there. She kind of wanted to blame them for the cave-in, though. With all their loud talking.

(She and Scrooge never talked loudly or yelled enough to cause a cave-in. Noooo. Of course not. Never.)

“Don’t you like him?”

Goldie paused for a brief moment in her work - caught off guard by the simplicity of the kid’s question. Did she like Scrooge? She loved him. She liked certain things he did and said. She liked being with him. But sometimes she hated him and sometimes she hated everything he did and said. So did that all culminate into liking him?

“It’s complicated.”

Donald groaned and tried to sit down on a rock, only to screech when he realized the rock was sharper than it looked. He rubbed his butt and frowned. “Why do adults always say that?”

She was finally getting somewhere with the rock-moving, thanks to what sounded like Scrooge and his niece moving rocks on the other side. Of course, Scrooge got the helpful one. “Adults just like to be annoying.”

“You can say that again.”

—

“I think this is getting to be too much for ten-year-olds,” Goldie said cautiously. “Maybe we should have them stand guard.”

“How exactly is that safer?” Scrooge said with a twist of his hand. “They’re just bairns!”

“We’re eleven, actually!” Della shouted from across the room.

Goldie ignored her and motioned to the path in front of her, which was filled with obvious booby traps and at least one pit of spikes. “How is that not safer? And it’d be safer for us to not have to watch out for them!”

Scrooge scoffed. “We dinnae have to watch them, they’re very capable!”

“You’re kidding. You can’t put kids in danger like this, it’s irresponsible!”

Goldie watched the switch flick - Scrooge’s temperament changed and she realized immediately that she’d hit a nerve.

“What would you know, O’Gilt?!” Scrooge said suddenly, poking a finger into her chest. “You arenae a part of this family! Ye cannae just appear out of nowhere and tell me how to take care of my own kin!”

She whapped his hand away from her and scowled. “Don’t talk to me like that again.”

“Bah!” He rolled his eyes and turned away. “Donald, Della? C’mon! We’re almost to the treasure!”

The twins cheered, clearly having not paid attention to the uncomfortable conversation their uncle just had. Della charged forward, ready to throw herself headfirst into danger, but Donald stayed back a bit and walked next to Goldie.

She was glaring at the back of Scrooge’s head, and Donald glanced up at her shyly. He could feel a lot of tension in the air. He started to get the feeling that this adventure wasn’t going to end the way they all wanted it to.

—

“Goldie!” Scrooge screamed out, hurt and anger and frustration etched all over his face. “Where did she-?!”

“I think she’s gone, Uncle Scrooge,” Della said curiously, looking all around them. “And…so’s the treasure.”

Scrooge sighed deeply, closed his eyes, and moved to the side of the plane so he could sit down on the bench. He didn’t want to have to explain any of what happened to the kids, especially not when it made him sound like such a sucker.

Della watched her uncle and turned to lock eyes with Donald, who’d just stepped up next to her. “I don’t get it,” she said quietly. “She just left with the treasure?”

Donald stared at Scrooge, tilting his head to the side curiously. “Yeah. I guess.”

“So then…she’s a villain! Isn’t she?”

“But she’s still Uncle Scrooge’s girlfriend, right?”

Della shook her head in confusion. “I don’t get it! Is this what Duckworth meant when he said it’s complicated?!” Her whispering got a little loud and she shrunk down when Donald lifted a finger to his beak and shushed her. “I guess we’re not getting a new aunt.”

“Maybe it’s like…” Donald closed his eyes and tried to remember a name. “In Darkwing Duck! He’s dating that witch lady. She’s not evil, right? Just misunderstood.”

“I don’t think Goldie’s like Morgana, Donnie,” Della corrected. “Goldie’s playing with Uncle Scrooge’s heart! It’s mean!”

“I…I don’t know about that.” Donald stuck his hands into his jacket pockets. “Maybe she just didn’t like us.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“I don’t know, Dumbella! I’m just thinking out loud, okay?!”

“Alright, alright, sure!” Della shrugged. “I’m just saying…Uncle Scrooge looks totally depressed. So Goldie’s a bad guy. That’s how it goes.”

Donald shook his head. “It’s not like I think she’s a good guy, I just…some people are in the middle, y’know?”

“I guess.”

“We should try to find out more about her when we get home.”

“Ooh, yes!” Della squeezed her hands tight in excitement. “Maybe in some old photo albums or something!”

“If they’ve been dating for like three hundred years, there’s gotta be something.”

They laughed together, not paying attention to their uncle to see if he was listening in. Della suddenly stopped laughing after a second, and then held up a finger to make Donald listen to her.

“What?”

“I thought you said you didn’t like Darkwing Duck!”

“Wh-! Well, I…I don’t! It’s dumb!”

“But you remembered Morgana? She’s barely in any episodes!”

“I just thought she was cool! Shut up!”

“Hahahaaa, you’re so in denial!”

Della started chasing Donald around, talking about Darkwing Duck and the different villains from the show. Scrooge, meanwhile, wasn’t paying any attention to them. Instead, he was staring out one of the plane windows and feeling sorry for himself. Being humiliated and heartbroken by Goldie was such a normal, regular occurrence…but happening in front of his family made the sting hurt worse than usual.

He wanted her to be a part of his family, but more than that…he wanted her to want to be a part of his family. But he knew that was asking too much. She was always going to be Goldie O’Gilt, after all.

---

---

REAL HISTORY FACTS: - The Lost Tomb of Antony and Cleopatra is in Alexandria, Egypt. We think. I mean, it's lost, so... - It's 1995 which means I have been born in the duck universe now. Lil baby Carro. This is a real history fact obviously what are you talking about

DUCK FRANCHISE REFERENCES: - Hortense and Quackmore find themselves going on vacations a lot because they're very angry people who get easily stressed out. So they leave Donald and Della with Scrooge. This is my justification to them being alive but Donald and Della have personalized rooms in Scrooge's house lol

[maxwell-grant]

Red of Overly Sarcastic Productions once said :"If you can imagine your Batman comforting a shared child, then congratulations, you're righting Batman. If not, you're just writing the Punisher in a funny hat". This got me wondering: could the Shadow comfort a scared child?

Could he? You forget who was there to lift young Bruce to his feet at his first brush with death (sadly far from his last).

But it's an interesting question to pose still, because children were straight up not in the pulps, not in any I've read, and I can't recall any episodes of the radio show that feature them much (there's gotta be at least a few, because they had everything in that show). The most interaction I think The Shadow's ever had with children (from comics that I can discuss here, because Marshall Rogers' "Harold Goes to Washington" is way, way too much for me to go into right now, and the less I talk about some other DC comics, the better) is in the Street & Smith comics.

There's Jerry from the Devil Kyoti arc, a kid who was traumatized by an encounter with the villain who Sayre's looking after and who ends up having some kind of hidden power that allows him to see The Shadow and defeat the villain. There was a blonde Jerry who showed up later in the Monstradamus arc, but he isn't a kid so much as he's diet Jimmy Olsen or a replacement for Harry, but he had weird eyesight-based powers and a familiarity with The Shadow, so I assume it's the same character.

There was also Donald Jordan - Shadow Jr, and okay, I may have to talk more about this weird little failed experiment some other time, but the basic gist of it is that The Shadow had a friend in Tibet named Harry Jordan (and someday I'm also gonna write about the weird prevalence and significance of the name "Harry" in The Shadow's mythos in and out of universe) who was murdered, leaving his son orphaned and with nowhere to go. And, I'll admit that I have a real weakness for The Shadow calling people "son", which he does a lot in this story.

And as you can expect, it then turns out that the kid's also learned how to cloud minds and has basically the same powers The Shadow has in these comics, and they solve the mystery of his dad's murder together, and yeah, you can absolutely tell that they are setting up this kid to be The Shadow's Robin. Although, interestingly, they don't have The Shadow actually recruit the kid, instead it's Jordan who asks The Shadow if he can go with him and join his mission, and Cranston even states he's going to have to "earn" his way

"Must I stay here, sir? It will always remind me of dad - I'd like to devote my life to your fight against evil and evil doers!

Now, "Shadow Jr's" career was incredibly short-lived, it only lasted for about two other issues, and I have no idea what happened in his final appearence called "Snake Eyes" in Shadow Comics #77, I cannot find that issue anywhere and I really want to. But the one other solo story of his I've read was...well, I think it kinda illustrates why the idea of The Shadow having a Robin was doomed from the start.

...Yeah. Even The Shadow at his most sanitized and family friendly is still The Shadow, and there's no room for children in his network, obviously he shouldn't and wouldn't have children be in those positions or make decisions expected from grown-ups who have already had encounters with death and danger, why would anyone do that-

The only instance I can think of The Shadow interacting with a child in the pulps was during The Prince of Evil, when he has to rescue a young boy from Stark's thugs.

Cranston, dazed, tried to stagger to his feet. Before he could do so, the thug had picked up the limp figure of the boy and was darting out into the street. There was a scream of horror from pedestrians.

A heavy truck was racing at top speed along the avenue. Straight into the path of the truck, the thug threw the senseless boy!

The driver of the truck jammed on the brakes. But it was too late to halt the heavy vehicle. The broad-tired wheels rolled toward the limp head of the lad on the pavement.

An instant before it could crush out his life, Lamont Cranston dived headlong into the path of destruction. His shoulder struck the boy, rolling him toward the curb. A quick wriggle, and Cranston swerved aside from the grinding death that loomed over him.

He picked up the boy. One glance and he knew there was no time to lose. The attempted killer had leaped into a waiting sedan and had already made his escape.

The boy was all Cranston could see or think about. Brass knuckles had fractured his skull. He had suffered a concussion of the brain. A glance at his bluish lips and the fixed glaze of his staring eyes told Cranston that unless the boy was operated on immediately, he would die.

A leap, Cranston was in his car. He laid the boy gently on the seat beside him, then headed the car toward the nearest hospital. Traffic lights were ignored.

The boy was taken to an emergency operating room and a skilled surgeon went to work. When it was over, Cranston asked only one question: "Will the child live?"

"Hard to say. We'll do our best."

"Spare no expense. Put him in a private room. Engage day and night nurses."

Cranston's face was pale. He knew that he himself was indirectly responsible for the boy's attack. A supercriminal had made a prompt answer to Cranston's message over Jackson's telephone. That telephone must have been tapped. The attempt to kill the boy was a vicious warning for Lamont Cranston to mind his own business about the Harmon family. It was a follow-up of the attack on Jackson's dog.

Cranston felt a surge of hot anger. He kept it under control while he answered routine police questions. He told all he knew - which was nothing.

He had only one angry thought. He intended to drive straight to the office of David Chester. He'd get the truth out of the sleek Chester, if he had to batter him with vengeful fists!

Cranston was actually halfway to Chester's office before common sense returned to him. He realized he had lost his sense of balance. He was behaving exactly as the crooks wanted. He was playing their game, not his!

He parked, and the hot rage drained slowly from him. He stopped thinking about the limp figure of a young lad on a white operating table.

This is definitely because Tinsley writes the character differently than Gibson, but I actually cannot think of another occasion where we got to read about The Shadow actively wanting to hit someone with his fists. It's very, very rare to read about The Shadow actually getting mad in the first place in such an undignified way. And I think with this passage, you'll start to notice a pattern.

The problem isn't that The Shadow cannot interact with kids or that he can't comfort them, he does it to his agents and adults he wants to help just fine, he knows how to address people in their language, or any language. The problem is, The Shadow is constantly surrounded by danger everywhere he goes, because he is The Shadow. He can be any number of things at any number of occasions, but usually, when The Shadow shows up, it's usually because people are going to die, and people are going to kill, and it's his job to address that and work the scales.

Children should not be anywhere near this, and if The Shadow's interacting with a child, it usually means that some grave danger or tragedy fell upon them, and he's here to either prevent greater tragedy or address the fall-out, and he'd be the first to agree that neither of these options should be happening at all. It doesn't mean he's not gonna do what's right and give life and limb to protect them, but, it shouldn't be up to the Boogeyman to look after them in the first place. Maybe it shouldn't be up to the Boogeyman to protect us.

But then again, as I mentioned when I talked about my own reasons for liking The Shadow so much, there are many kids who would like nothing more than to have the Boogeyman by their side to protect them. There's comfort in knowing that the scariest man in the room is unconditionally there to protect you, and that is the comfort that The Shadow gives best. Not as Cranston, not under a friendly face, but as what he is.

Due to a lack of scenes from the pulps or satisfying scenes from elsewhere, I will instead be pulling one from a fan story written by Kimberly-Murphy Smith, editor and writer of The Hot Cornerm where The Shadow rescues a child who was kidnapped for blackmail. I couldn't care less that it's fanfic, and if you do, come back in 20 or so years after The Shadow's been made public domain and it's gonna be just as official as anything licensed (on my “to write about” list: how fickle the separation between “official” and “fanfic” is, and the many times it plainly didn’t exist). There’s aspects of her writing I don’t care for, but I really like this scene and I do think The Shadow’s more gentle interactions with people are necessary to getting the character.

Annabelle.

She stopped crying for a minute. "Who's there?" she said, her voice choked.

A friend. Your mommy and daddy sent me to pick you up.

"Mommy? Mommy's here?"

Sh-h-h. Annabelle felt a gloved hand gently stroking her hair. She's waiting for you at home. So, we need to hurry up and leave.

"'kay." She looked around. "Where are you?"

It's kind of hard to see me. It's dark in here, plus you've been crying so much your eyes probably hurt.

"Yeah."

Don't be afraid. I'm here to help.

"'kay."

The implicit trust of children was simply amazing at times. Adults trembled in fear of The Shadow's wrath, but children somehow seemed to understand that he was there to help them, even if they couldn't see him.

Sit up, Annabelle. I'm going to pick you up. Be very quiet.

One hand took each of her arms and guided them around a neck she could not see. "Why are you wearin' a blanket?" she asked as the fabric of his cloak brushed against her shoulders.

Sometimes I get cold at night.

"Even in the summer?"

Even in the summer. He gently stroked her cheek and wiped away her tears. Now, you need to be very quiet so those bad men in the next room don't hear us. I'll bet you're tired.

She nodded.

He rocked her on his arms, projecting a very gentle hypnotic relaxation into her with his powers as he did. You probably didn't get your nap, either. Poor thing. Lean on my shoulder and go to sleep. And when you wake up, you'll be back with Mommy and Daddy.

She yawned, then snuggled against his shoulder and went to sleep.

The Shadow sighed with relief. Now to get past the men out front. He gently pulled the pistol out of its holster under his left arm and slipped it into the belted waist of his overcoat within easy reach, then secured his grip on Annabelle and draped his cloak over her.

She clutched the edge of his cloak in her hand like a security blanket and snuggled against his shoulder again.

(Art by Jill Thompson)

[remmushound]

Damage, part 4: Shellshock

CONTENT WARNING CONTENT WARNING CONTENT WARNING!! Details of extreme violence, wounds, blood, gore, evisceration, PTSD, depression, and minor acts of self harm are described in the following chapter! Viewer discretion is advised! @errorfreak88 @brightlotusmoon

Donatello didn't want to do much of anything anymore. He’d do what was needed to keep his brothers healthy. He’d help Raphael clean his carapace and apply Raphael’s ointment before bed, and he’d run Michelangelo through his leg exercises twice a day. He’d make sure Raphael and Michelangelo were wearing their covers, and he’d make sure Leonardo wasn’t pushing himself too hard. He’d do routine work on his tech whenever he wasn’t entirely exhausted, but work that should have been done daily was lucky to be weekly.

It’s not that he didn't want to do it! He’d wake up knowing it had to get done and go through the day telling himself he needed to do it. He would do it in thirty minutes. Then forty minutes passed and he told himself just ten more minutes of rest. He’d tell himself that he’d get to it after he ate, but then he wouldn’t eat. And it would be night and he’d be too tired to do anything but pass out. In the morning, it would start over again.

He didn't have a reason to be like this— he knew he didn't. He wasn’t crushed like Michelangelo or slashed like Raphael or damaged like Leonardo. He hadn't been hurt at all in the assault due to Raphael’s heroism. All Donatello had to show for the battle that took so much from his brothers were bruises— and those hadn’t even been from the Shredder! It was just from where Raphael had held him too tight protecting him. Wasn’t that pathetic? He got hurt being saved! The only thing he had been good for was dragging his hurt family through Mayhem’s portal and getting them all back to the lair.

Donatello played solitaire on his phone. It was boring. He was gonna switch to a different app after he finished this last game. Then it was five rounds later. Eight rounds. It was so incredibly boring, but he just kept placing the cards. His phone dinged as a message from April popped up.

It read: Donnie, please talk to me.

Donatello silenced his phone.and went back to his game. He ignored the vibrations as she tried several times over to text and call. His phone died. He wanted to charge it, but that required rolling over and plugging it in. Instead he just laid the phone on his chest, stared up at the ceiling for a moment, and then closed his eyes.

He had no right to complain…

He had pulled his family into the portal one-by-one. Their blood on his hands and on his face and on his shell. Michelangelo was conscious, crying in the agony of having been physically torn apart. Donatello didn't have anything to give him for the pain.

He had no right to complain…

Donatello didn't know what to do. At the time it was like he had to choose who he wanted to live and who he’d let die. Whose wounds could be left to fester and whose had to be addressed first. Every choice could mean Leonardo dying or Raphael dying or Michelangelo or Splinter. He was playing God with his family's life!

Tears ran down his face and heat bubbled in his chest. He had no right to complain…

Michelangelo was awake and crying out in agony, thinking Donatello was ignoring him and his pain but Donatello wasn’t. Leonardo was losing too much blood and then Raphael was choking on his blood and Splinter was getting cold— Michelangelo was the most well off of them, he could wait, but Donatello just wished he wasn’t conscious!

At one point he remembered trying to move Splinter onto the couch, but he must have missed a wound on the mutants stomach—

Stupid stupid STUPID STUPID STUPID! Donatello slammed his fists repeatedly into his head until his thoughts started to spin.

The feeling of Splinter’s entrains spilling out into Donatello’s hands. The movement onto the couch splitting Splinter in two. Having to reassemble his father from the inside out while Leonardo’s blood pooled on the floor and in that moment Donatello thought he was choosing his father over his brother.

It was a dumb choice! Dumb dumb dumb DUMB!

It had taken almost a hundred stitches to sew up the wound, and the fact Donatello had to work around the thin hair of his father’s belly wasn’t doing him any good. By the time he got to Leonardo and felt for a pulse he was almost sure his brother had… there was so much blood he…

But Donatello felt a pulse. And he got to work on Leonardo. And then Raphael. And Michelangelo last. Drilling into their shells and using fucking wire to hold his family together! The only thing keeping them alive were screws and wire!

Donatello didn't sleep for two weeks. Of course, he knew he had to have slept some time during that month, but he couldn’t remember it. Every waking moment of every day of those fourteen days were spent pacing around the lair, from brother to brother to father. Checking their wounds, checking their pulses. Checking if they were still alive— he didn't know how they were still alive! But they were.

April came by every day to try and help and every day Donatello tried to turn her away. But she kept coming back and kept telling him to sleep and eat and wash and he just got so mad! He didn't mean to hit her, but he did. The solid thwack of his bo staff against April’s side echoed in Donatello’s mind and her crying out in pain. She didn't come back after that.

Much of those days were spent trying to keep his family sustained. Shoving tubes down their throats into their stomachs to pour in water and soup. So much soup. Donatello made sure to keep himself hydrated, if only so he could keep up with his family’s needs, but he didn't eat. He didn't need to eat— eating so often was unnatural for him anyway. He couldn’t afford to feed himself when he had to feed them. His pained hunger was but a small price to pay for his family.

Michelangelo had been the first one to wake up. Donatello had thought the sounds of sobs and whimpers were just one of the many hallucinations that had plagued him during his isolated period. But then he saw Michelangelo moving. And trying to walk. A few days later Leonardo woke up, and then Raphael. Splinter had taken a whole extra week. But they were alive. They were alive and well and thriving in days and yet after almost six months Donatello still couldn’t get himself out of bed! While he slept and stewed in his own self loathing, they were out there healing and training and doing so much more than him… they were so much more important than him...

Donatello sat up suddenly with a furious wail and launched his phone at the wall, watching it shatter upon impact. He immediately regretted the action and keeled over clutching his stomach in despair and sobbing loudly into the empty room.

Another hour passed and the quiet stupor he had returned to was interrupted by a familiar, annoying presence busting his door off the hinges and forcing light to flood into the dark room.

“ALLONS-Y!” Leonardo had Michelangelo tossed over one shoulder and was pointing like a valiant traveler who had just discovered a new land mass. “Donald!”

Donatello squinted against the light and hissed as he blocked his eyes. “Nardo…”

“You’re coming with me!”

“What— why—?”

Donatello didn't get an answer. Instead, he got a strong hand hefting him up and tossing him over Leonardo’s shoulder.

“Hey— this is indignant!” Donatello struggled.

“Hi Donnie!” Michelangelo waved and smiled brightly, “We’re making a new shell for Raph and you’re helping us.”

“Do I get a say in this?”

“NO!” Leonardo and Michelangelo said at the same time.

[minijenn]

KH Comm # 3

Another writing comm! This one's for @rosie-drawss, who wanted a continuation of the Keys comm I did for them last time around (in which, tldr, Riku finds Sora and convinces him to come home early). You can read that right here if you're interested in getting a bit of background before diving into this one. Anyway enjoy this big ol bundle of hurt/comfort!

***

The Gummi Ship isn’t parked that far away. Yet despite keeping up a steady pace so far, as soon as he sees its familiar red and yellow hull, Sora slows to a stop, something that Riku notices almost immediately. He stops, turning back to check on him, only for Sora to surprisingly tell him what’s wrong, this time completely unprompted.

“I-I… I don’t think I’m ready for this,” he quietly admits, wrapping his arms around himself. “I lied to them and ran from them for so long, Riku, I don’t even know what I’m supposed to say to any of them now, much less to Donald, or Goofy, or Kairi-”

“You don’t have to say anything, if you don’t want to,” Riku reassures him. He steps back over to him, gently taking one of his hands in his. After so many weeks on his own, Sora’s gotten used to living without much physical contact from others; but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t missed it, that he doesn’t selfishly cherish every second of it he’s getting now. “They all know, and they understand. And trust me when I tell you the only thing any of them wants, especially Kairi, is to see you come home safe and sound.”

“T-they’re not mad?” Sora asks, still uncertain.

“At you? No,” Riku shakes his head. His expression darkens a bit as he brushes a few of Sora’s now-white bangs out of his newly golden eyes. “At the one who’s doing all this to you? Well, let’s just say that if it's a war Xehanort wants, it's a war he’s going to get if that’s what it takes to set you free.”

Sora wants to argue at this, wants to insist that no one else should have to fight this battle for him, that he’s not even worth such a battle to begin with. But he’s far too tired to put up that kind of fight now, not when he knows it’ll do nothing to change Riku’s mind or anyone else’s for that matter.

So instead, he lets Riku take his hand, lets him lead him onward, lets him guide him to one of the vacant chairs in the ship’s cockpit. Surprisingly, they don’t lift off right away; instead, Riku briefly heads below deck before returning with a blanket and a small meal composed of a sandwich, an apple, and a water bottle.

“It’s gonna be a long ride back to the tower,” Riku says as he hands all those items over to Sora. “Might as well get comfortable.” He pauses, his face suddenly warm with embarrassment when he sees Sora staring at the meager portion of food sitting in his lap with a look of sheer disbelief. “Uh… sorry, it’s not much,” he clears his throat, glancing away. “It’s been a few days since I last stocked up on supplies and I, um, heard that if you’ve gone without food for awhile, it’s best not to go overboard with your first meal, so-”

“You’re kidding, right?” Sora cuts in, looking up at him with a grateful, incredulous smile. “This is more food than I’ve had in weeks, I-” He stops short when he notices Riku’s immediate alarm upon hearing something like this and as a result, he immediately backpedals on it. “I, uh… t-thank you,” his tone turns soft again, small, but he’s still smiling as he takes his first bite out of the sandwich.

“...Why haven’t you been eating?” Riku asks him, kneeling down beside his chair.

“Couldn’t afford to,” Sora admits somewhat sheepishly. “I don’t have any money, and… well, I found out pretty quickly that most people aren’t willing to give things out for free…”

Riku sighs, wishing that he’d found Sora so much sooner, wishing that he hadn’t had to struggle to simply survive for so long. “You haven’t been sleeping much either, have you?” he asks, noting the dark bags under his eyes.

Sora hesitantly shakes his head as he finishes the sandwich up just shy of starting on the apple. “I can’t…” he mutters tiredly.

“Why not?”

“Nightmares…” is all Sora says, and Riku immediately understands.

He stands, grabbing the blanket and lightly draping it over Sora as soon as he finishes off his small meal. “Get some sleep,” he instructs patiently. “You won’t have any more nightmares, not as long as you’re with me. I promise.”

Sora wants to question that promise, but he’s overtaken by an exhausted yawn instead. With even just a little food finally in his stomach, his eyes soon start to grow heavy, and before the ship is even off the ground, he’s fallen into a stupor. As he prepares for takeoff, Riku can sense the nightmares starting to assail him, can hear his soft, nervous whimpers piercing through the peace of the cockpit. But he’s having none of it. He closes his eyes, takes in a steady breath, and focuses his power into chasing those nightmares away before they can cause him any harm. The terrors Xehanort is trying to force upon him are unspeakable, vile visions of everything Sora’s come to fear and hate. Even the brief glimpses he gets before he destroys them from existence are enough to shake Riku to his very core, to get even just a small taste of the torture Sora’s been forced to go through, torture he’s done not a single thing to deserve in the slightest. And yet, for as much as it all horrifies him, it does something else too; it makes Riku want to put the twisted man responsible for it all through every bit of suffering he’s been shoving onto Sora. He won’t rest until he does.

Riku feels some measure of relief when he finally feels Sora fully fall asleep just as the ship’s engines quietly roar to life. He pulls the vessel into motion, gentle enough as to not wake him, and slowly guides it up into the atmosphere, out of a world in which, up until a few hours prior, Sora had been all but hopelessly lost within. As soon as the ship is steadily adrift between the stars, Riku briefly checks on him, unable to suppress a smile when he sees him curled up him his seat, his blanket tightly wrapped around him as he sleeps soundly, likely for the first time in a very long time.

That smile soon fades, however, when he pulls his Gummiphone out. He hasn’t spoken to any of the other lights in quite awhile, not since his search for Sora began. As their leader, he knows he’ll have a lot to answer for the impulsive haste of that search, and he’ll have much to say he’s sorry for, to Kairi above all the others. But now, he’s finally ready to face them, finally ready to return to them. Finally ready to bring the only one still missing among their number back to where he belongs.

He decides to message Kairi, knowing there’s too much to explain and that none of it should be done over the phone. Besides, he doesn’t want to risk waking Sora up with what would likely be a very emotional, very noisy call. So he sends something short off to her, a simple request without much elaboration at all. Mostly because he has a feeling she’ll understand exactly what he means.

“I’m sorry about what happened before, but I need a favor. Go to the islands and bring Himari back to the tower, please. And tell the others to get a room ready. I have him. We’re coming home.”

***

Sora’s still sleeping when they arrive at the tower. Riku doesn’t have the heart to rouse him, not when sleep is something he so sorely, visibly needs. So he decides to carry him, carefully lifting him from his seat with his blanket still draped over him. His heart flutters in his chest, his face warm as he secures Sora comfortably in his arms. He’s light, far lighter than he should be, likely because of his longstanding starvation, and as a result, he feels fragile, like he could break at any moment if not treated with the utmost care and caution. But even then, Riku isn’t so sure he hasn’t already been broken by fear, by pain, by loneliness, by so many other things he can’t even bring himself to think about.

He isn’t surprised to see Kairi pacing around right outside the tower, her expression torn between deep worry and rising hope. She’s the only one out there, and he’s glad for it; the last thing Sora needs is to be overwhelmed by too many people at once upon arrival.

“Riku!” she cries, running over to him the second she spots him. He’s quick to shush her as Sora lightly stirs in his arms, and she complies, her eyes wide when she sees him, a soft gasp escaping her when she takes in just how much he’s managed to change. “S-Sora…” she swallows hard, trying to fight back tears and failing miserably. “I-is… is he-”

“He’s just sleeping,” Riku assures her. “He… hasn’t been doing too well out on his own…”

“I can tell…” Kairi shudders, wiping a few of her stray tears away. She places a feather-light hand against the side of his face, whispering softly to him as he sleeps. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been going through… But it’s all gonna be ok now. You’re here, and so is everyone else. And we’re all gonna do whatever we can to stop this… to save you…”

While most of this goes largely unheard, Sora does ease his way back into some small semblance of waking after Kairi leans in to lightly kiss his forehead. His golden gaze is initially unfocused, his mind bleary and disoriented as unused to uninterrupted slumber as he’s come to be. Even so, he eventually manages to focus his sights on the pair hovering over him, all but unaware that he’s resting in the arms of one of them. “Mmm… Riku?” he says with a small, comforted smile. That comfort quickly shifts into startled alarm when he notices who else is standing alongside him. “K-Kairi! I-”

“Shh, it’s ok,” she places a soft finger against his lips, her own smile warm but bittersweet. “I’m so glad to see you, you lazy bum. To see both of you…” She turns her sights back to Riku, who returns her apologetic gaze every bit as intently. Whatever they might have said or done weeks before doesn’t matter now, not when they finally have the one who matters most to them both back. Not when he still needs both of them to be there for him so very much.

“Wait a second…” Sora starts, his cheeks flooding red when he tries to sit up, only to realize where he’s lying. Or rather, who’s arms he’s lying in. “R-Riku! Are you--why are you carrying me?!”

“W-well, you were sleeping,” Riku quickly explains, his own face turning a crimson shade to match Sora’s. “And I didn’t want to wake you, so I-”

He’s cut off as Kairi suddenly breaks down into a helpless bout of laughter, one that only serves to fluster both boys even more. “Good to know you’re both just as adorable as ever,” she chuckles, fixing them with a flirtatious smirk.

“Are not!” Sora argues, pouting as Riku carefully sets him down and helps him properly stand.

“I-I don’t know what you mean,” Riku refutes, clearing his throat as he looks away.

“Suuuure you don’t,” Kairi teases, though her tone takes a more serious turn as she begins leading the way toward the tower. “Well, come on you two. Everyone’s waiting.”

“E-everyone?” Sora tenses, at least until Riku’s steadying hand lands on his shoulder.

“It’s ok,” he says solemnly, sincerely. “We’re with you, no matter what happens.”

The most Sora can do is anxiously nod, knowing that there’s no going back now, not when he’s already come all this way. They approach the doors together, though they aren’t the ones to open them. Donald and Goofy are, and needless to say that as soon as they see Sora, they’re unable to contain the torrential tide of emotions that rushes to the surface. And neither can Sora himself, for that matter.

The pair pounces upon him, knocking him to the ground as they engulf him in a noisy, tearful hug. Sora struggles to work up the courage to hug them back, terrified of even touching them after how he’d hurt both of them before. That maddening moment seems to be the furthest thing from either of their minds now though, as they fret and fawn over him, as Donald scolds him for worrying them so much, as Goofy tells him how much they both missed him. It all comes out so rapidly that Sora is barely able to get a word in edgewise, not that he can think of much else to say other than sorry. Which he does, over and over and over again.

Roxas, Ventus, and Xion descend upon him next, each of them greeting him in more or less the exact ways he expected them to. Roxas is a mess of relieved anger, hot tears streaming down his cheeks as he yells at Sora for his recklessness, for his foolishness, for being so surprisingly hard to find. Sora doesn’t protest any of it, knowing he deserves far worse for what he’s done. But in the end, Roxas finally relents, finally embracing him as Ven and Xion do the same. As all three of the hearts once inside his own vow to do whatever they can to protect him even still, even now that they no longer have to call his heart home.

The others all soon follow, Aqua and Terra and Axel and Mickey and Naminé all warmly welcoming his long-awaited return. He does his best to face each of them in stride, to not fall apart in front of them all. He leans against Riku and Kairi for support, his head spinning as they all ask him an abundance of curious, concerned questions, many of which he has no real answers for. The pair can tell he’s starting to get overwhelmed by it all, and they’re more than ready to pull him aside for some of the solitude he’s likely much more used to now. But before they can, one voice among the group rises over all the others; a voice that sparks tears in Sora’s eyes the very second he hears her.

“S-Sora…?”

He turns, his heart aching to find her hurrying down the stairs into the foyer. Her eyes are already red from crying, tears already starting in them anew when he steps forward to meet her. He doesn’t know what to say, didn’t know she’d be here, never thought she even could be here. But he supposes it only makes sense that they’d bring her all this way to see him; after all, the world order can afford to be broken just a little if it means reuniting a worried mother with the son she’s so close to losing.

“Mom…” he returns as the entire room falls into solemn silence around them. “I… I’m-”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish when Himari throws her arms around him, pulling him close and tight toward her. “I-I… t-they just finished telling me what’s happening to you,” she whispers, running a hand through his whitened hair. “I didn’t think this--I… I should have never let you…” she breaks off into a mournful sob, holding him even tighter, terrified of what might happen if she lets him go. “I’m so sorry, Sora…”

“No,” he returns just as quietly, just as sadly as he pulls just a tiny bit away. “Don’t be. You have nothing to be sorry for. This isn’t your fault.” “It’s mine,” he nearly adds, but narrowly refrains. Even though he knows it's nothing less than the truth.

The round of reunions doesn’t continue very long after that. It’s already quite late, and everyone’s already very tired, so they decide to take tomorrow to form a more concrete plan of action. For now, everyone turns into their rooms for the night, with even Himari doing the same after spending a bit more time with her son, vowing to stay by his side through the duration of this situation, no matter how uncertain it might be.

Sora finds himself stunned when Riku and Kairi lead him into one of the tower’s spare rooms. He hasn’t slept in general for so long, much less in an actual bed. And the mere thought of getting to lie in one now almost seems like a luxury he shouldn’t be able to afford, yet here it is, offered freely just like the food he’d gotten earlier, just like the secure shelter now hanging over his head, just like the kind company he still can’t believe he’s keeping. Company that he’d been such a stubborn fool for depriving himself of for so very long.

As he climbs under the soft plush covers, he’s just as surprised to find Riku and Kairi climbing under them alongside him. The bed is plenty big enough for all three of them, with still more room to spare, but they pull themselves close along either side of him, each of them loosely draping their arms over him.

“Are you comfortable like this?” Kairi asks him as she reaches over to turn out the light.

“Yeah…” he sighs, content as Riku pulls the blanket over him just a bit more. “You know, I’ve been alone for such a long time now, I-I guess… I almost forgot what this felt like…”

“What do you mean?” Riku inquires softly, drowsily.

“I… I forgot what it felt like… to be safe,” Sora admits, though that’s not really what he wants to say. Because in truth, what he really forgot, what he’s still trying his hardest to remember is what it feels like to be loved.

Even so, both Riku and Kairi seem to understand what he means without him even needing to say it. A talent both of them have always had, one that he’s always marveled at around every turn. “And you’ll stay safe, no matter what happens next,” Kairi smiles sweetly, slowly brushing a few stray locks of hair out of his eyes. “That’s something we won’t let you forget again. We promise.”

“You saved both of us so many times before, Sora, in so many different ways,” Riku adds, his voice a light, loving whisper leading him back toward slumber. “This time, let us be the ones to save you, ok?”

Sora has no idea what will happen next, and part of him doesn’t want to know either. But what he does know is this: he’s back, he’s here, surrounded by friends and family who are all striving to help him, set his captive heart free. He’s here, lying in the arms of two people he loves more than anything, more than himself even. He’s here, and the only thing they want is to save him, to stay with him, to hold onto him and never let him walk alone again. And, after so long of wandering without anyone by his side, without any love or light to guide him out of the dark deceptions he’d fallen into… Sora can’t help but finally find himself wanting the exact same thing. “Ok,” he says softly, a smile on his face as he falls asleep in the same way he fell in love with them so many years ago.

Slowly, and then all at once.

(Commissions are still open! PM if interested!)

[s-creations]

This Lullaby

He knew it was going to be a struggle. They all knew it was going to be a struggle. But raising Della's children, for some reason, makes Donald feel worse than before. And he wasn't sure how to make that feeling go away.

Fandom: DuckTales 2017 / The Three Caballeros         Rating: General Audience        Relationships/Pairings:  José  Carioca/Donald Duck/Panchito Pistoles Additional Tags: Original Character, Depression, Loss, Loss of Family.

Part of a Series Called: We’re the Three- Sorry, Six Caballeros!

Hey everybody! Just like the previous entry to this, I have tagged depression on this installment as well. I think it's a bit more pronounced that in the previous story. So, just be warned, it's there.

And someday I'll make a happy story with these six. Someday...but not today.

If Della was there, Donald would want her to explain why she thought Jet, Turbo, and Rebel were good names to give children. I mean, really? Those were names you use for imaginary friends. This was a setup for the triplets to be bullied later in their lives. Seriously, what was she thinking?

 But...Della wasn’t there. So, he had to just silently stew. Wondering what her thought process had been.

 More than just her naming choices.

 Donald named the older triplet Hubert, or Huey, after a captain the older duck has served under. A tough but fair bulldog. Built like a wall and able to punch with the strength of a bulldozer. Or, that’s what the stories swapped between the cadets said. But the bulldog was more of a talker. Wanting to smooth things over any confrontations with words before the fists had to come out. A philosophy that Donald had hoped the older triplet would follow. 

 Dewford, or Dewey, was given his name by Panchito. The rooster recalled his favorite childhood storybook that he’d read multiple times when the family became too loud. One that told of an adventurer who saves the world on a regular basis. The main character was brave, putting the needs of others before his own and making sure the innocent were kept safe. While it hit a little close to home for Donald, the duck couldn’t help but admit that the name seemed to fit the duckling perfectly.

 José had taken a while in naming the youngest. A few days passed before he gave his choice to the other two. Llewellyn, or Louie, named after the parrot’s late grandfather. Shocking both the duck and rooster by the reveal as they’d never heard of this parrot before. José was known to not get along well with his family. He explains, while cradling the green bundled form closer, that his grandfather was the only person José had connected with. The elder parrot had passed when José was only four. Far too soon.

 The other two pressed closer after the reveal. Saying that Louie was a perfect name. A wonderful way to remember a good soul.

 It was hard getting into a new routine. When the triplets were still eggs, all that was needed was to keep them warm and keep them on a stable surface. Now it was about keeping the triplets entertained. Fed. Cleaned. Making sure they get enough sleep. Deciding if pre-school was a better place to start schooling then kindergarten. When would be the best time for them to start socializing? 

 “Why is it so hard to find a three seated stroller that can break apart into separate single ones? Do I really have to design my own?” Donald grumbled as he scrolled through the shopping page. 

 Panchito looked over from his spot on the couch with a raised brow. “Why would we need that? We can just take them on a walk together, all in single strollers.” 

 “What if José’s not here.”

 “Um, a duo stroller with a single one?” 

 “What if you’re both not home and I need to get out of the house with the kids?”

 “...We’ll keep looking.”

 The duck couldn’t say this enough times about how thankful he was that Panchito and José were there to help. Trying to balance all of this and worry about keeping a stable job? He would have started molting long before the eggs had hatched. 

 How would Della have handled this?

 While the other two took care of finances, Donald focused his energy and attention on the home front. Even then, caring for the house and the triplets was a...struggle. He wasn’t sure how to raise kids. His own childhood was filled with being dropped off at a new family member’s house every other weekend. Or on dangerous adventures in which he should have and almost did die. Only surviving on sheer dumb luck. 

 Luck, from him, could you imagine? 

 Della’s luck didn’t last forever. 

 The triplets were exploratory the moment they learned how to crawl. If Donald had his back turned for even a second, they would scatter. Thankfully, due to the older duck’s prep work, they couldn’t get into the many places. But that didn’t mean the triplets couldn’t find new areas to help give their uncle a heart attack. Like when Dewey somehow found his way onto the top of the refrigerator. 

 How? How was that even possible? Donald was feeling absolutely exhausted…

 “Do you need me to take some time off? I am sure I can convince my company to give me a few days home to help with the boys and let you sleep.” José offered.

 “No no. I’m sure they're still upset since you left so suddenly before, then decided to change location, and then ask for more time off only a few months later? No, you don’t need to worry about that. I don’t want to get you in trouble.” 

 “I could ask for time off.” Panchito voiced.

 “You just started working. Guy, I’m serious when I say I’m fine. The triplets are just a bit of a handful. I got this.”

 It wasn’t a necessary lie. But it wasn’t fully true either. Just like when the other two asked if he was okay when they first arrived. Donald knew he was in an unstable state at this moment. He was emotionally and mentally exhausted. Everyday it was an internal battle of wanting his family back and never wanting to experience that kind of pain again. He was still angry with Scrooge and Gyro with how they handled the entire situation. Still hurt that Gladstone was so indifferent or angry without truly being involved. Donald would have reached out to Fethry, but he knew how much of a blabbermouth his cousin was. And he didn’t want Scrooge to know anything about his life. 

 What was most painful was how torn he was feeling about Della. Donald was furious that she just left. That she would just abandon her eggs, and so easily too. For Donald, it was a declaration that she didn’t want to be responsible. It was just something she wanted someone else to take care of them. How was he supposed to explain this to the triplets when they started asking what happened to their mother? 

 The turmoil that Donald felt was the idea that...could he really be mad at her? She was gone. Her choice was paid with the ultimate price. So could he hold a grudge with someone who wasn’t there? Who was never going to be there. He wanted to. But he knew it would just drive him further into an unkempt state. Holding a grudge against someone he would never see again. There would be anger burning in him that would never be able to be released. 

 As if Donald didn’t have enough issues with his anger. 

 Donald was brought out of his thoughts hearing gentle coos. Eyes traveling over to the standing playpen. The triplets were starting to try and stand. Dewey showed off his skills as he clung to the pen’s wall netting. His brother’s were more interested in the surrounding toys. But the blue dressed triplet was focused on his fractured uncle. 

 Letting out a small sigh, Donald lifted Dewey up, sitting down by the playpen.

 “You should be with your mother… She should be here, raising you three… All of this...it’s all so unfair…” He pulled Dewey closer, cradling the small head with his hand and it was pressed against his chest. 

 Donald was tired. He was scared. He didn’t know what he was doing. He wondered why Panchito and José would stick around. They were supposed to be living their life in vibrant cities that matched their personalities. Not stuck here. Dealing with the absolute mess that was Donald and his life and his famiy. It was a battle between knowing he needed the help and not wanting to be a burden.

 A small pat to his chest brought attention back to the triplet laying on his chest. Dewey letting out a small whimper. As if he was aware of how upset his uncle was. 

 Donald gave a gentle smile to the duckling. He cautiously stood, collecting the other two, and laid them out on the blanket that had been placed on the floor. Donald laid himself down on his stomach. Laughing softly as the triplets began crawling closer. Babbling as they clung to feathers and attempted to climb onto their uncle. 

 A misstep from Huey caused him to take a tumble, landing on his back. Small sobs bubbling up as his legs kicked desperately. In response, Donald reached out, cradling the red cladded triplet’s head in his hand while the other rested on the stomach. Huey turned to face his uncle. Unshed tears at the corners of his eyes were gently wiped away. 

 “Look to the stars my darling baby boys…”

 Huey’s eyes lit up, falling completely still as he focused on Donald. Dewey and Louie rolled off their uncle. Instead propping themselves up on Donald’s arms, starting at him as well. Their eyes wide with curiosity. 

 Now that he had full attention by his audience, Donald started again.

 Look to the stars my darling baby boys,

 Life is strange and vast,

 Filled with wondrous and joys,

 Face each new sun with eyes clear and true,

 Unafraid of the unknown,

 Because I’ll face it all with you.

 He was crying before he finished. No sobbing or cracking voice, just tears. The triplets had calmed down and were starting to drift off. Unaware of their uncle finally reaching his breaking point. Donald didn’t flinch when José and Panchito suddenly appeared. Each laying on either side of the duck, whose eyes were still trained on the triplets. 

 “I don’t think I know that song.” Panchito whispered.

 “Della wrote it,” Donald replied, “She’d sing it to them every night… When they were still eggs and she was...you know...still here.”

 “It was beautiful. We shall need to sing it more.” José suggested, pressing closer. 

 Donald didn’t reply right away. Focusing on the warmth seeping in from the bodies pressed against him. “I think there’s something wrong with me. I’m...angry. Not just angry, I can’t focus. I don’t know what I’m really angry about. I think. I just know that I am. I’m so...exhausted.” 

 The parrot hummed. Reaching up to preen at the exposed white feathers. “I think...you have had a lot of things being thrown at you. Very quickly. Without a way to fully...understand how to deal with it. Like me.”

 “Like you?”

 “Very much like me. I believe it would benefit you if you saw someone. It has helped me.”

 “...When have you started seeing a therapist?”

 “A few years now. Panchito convinced me to do so.”

 “I can try and convince you as well.” The rooster added with a smile.

 Donald gave a soft laugh. “No...I’ll go… I think I need to go. I know I need it… I’m sorry.”

 “You have nothing to be sorry for. We understand, we are just here to help.” José whispered, Panchito nodded softly as he laid his head on the duck’s shoulder.

 Donald let out a shaky breath, eyes closing as he sank into the warmth surrounding him. 

 “It will be okay. We are here for you and it will be okay…”

 _____________________

 Donald let out a slow breath, scrunching himself further down into the cushioned chair. The triplets were babbling happily resting in their three seated stroller. All being entertained by Panchito while José focused on the older duck. The waiting room for the therapy office was small, with only a few cushioned chairs, a fake plant pushed into the corner, with a magazine rack hanging on the wall. The reception desk was situated across from the entrance with a large window resting across from where the six of them were resting. 

 Donald was realizing how cold this office was.

 “You will be fine. Dr. Bessing is amazing. I have only been with her for a few months, but I trust her.” José said as he took Donald’s hand gently. 

 “What if I don’t like her?” The duck questioned quietly.

 “Then we find someone else. And we will keep doing this until we find someone you do trust. It will be fine,” José smiled softly, “Do you trust me?”

 “Yeah, of course.”

 “Then trust me when I say you will be cared for.”

 Whatever bravado Donald had started to build was instantly broken when the nearby door opened. A robin with short brown hair and casually dressed entered, carrying a clipboard. She smiled over at the six of them. Giving a small coo seeing the triplets before her full attention went to Donald. “Mr. Donald Duck?”

 José gave a gentle nudge, giving an encouraging smile as Donald slowly stood. He was led to where the back offices were. Entering one of the rather small rooms, the large window showing the garden behind the building being the first thing Donald noticed. It was sunny outside, the light hitting the garden path perfection. It looked like it came from a photograph.

 The office itself was small, but rather cozy. Warm and inviting. Even with the numerous medical items seen around the room. A desk was pushed against the wall that was across from the window, framed with paperwork and books, a closed laptop resting in the center, and a leather, armed chair placed before it. Numerous diplomas were hanging on the wall above said desk. A cushioned chair was facing the desk, with a small end table nearby that was covered with numerous children’s toys. A large bookshelf was placed by the window and was filled with a number of thick volumes. Donald couldn’t really read all the titles. But from what he’d been able to see, they all held something about psychology. 

 “Go ahead and take a seat.” Dr. Bessing smiled as she took the seat by the desk. Donald let out a shaky sigh as he did as was suggested. “So, how are you feeling today? I know therapy can be a little overwhelming for the first time.”

 “Um...yeah, I am a little nervous.” 

 “Completely understandable. You’re not used to opening up to complete strangers and now you're suddenly supposed to change your whole outlook? In one hour? It’s a weird feeling. But I am here to assure you that you have nothing to worry about. This is a safe space and nothing will be shared with anyone unless it’s on your say so.” 

 “Okay… Um, did José tell you...anything? I-I know you’re seeing him. Am I allowed to know that? I’m not breaking any rules am I?”

 “No, you’re all good. José is allowed to share who he sees and what we talk about if he wants. The clients are in control as to what’s shared with other members of the family and friends. As far as him telling me anything, he just informed me you’re having a bit of a family issue. Nothing more. I want you to tell me what’s happening in your life. Even if he’s your husband, he can’t speak for your experiences directly. And, I will say this again, nothing leaves this room unless you want to share it. Either here or at home. It’s about making you feel safe.”

 “Okay… I… Where do I...how do I start this?”

 “Why don’t you just start with what brought you in today. What has happened currently that would make you feel that you need to see someone.” 

 Donald nodded, rubbing his hands together. “...Sorry, I really don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”

 “That’s fine. First session is an open book, you just talk with whatever comes to mind,  and it sounds like there’s a lot to tell. Just take a few minutes, try and get everything in order, and start when you feel ready.”

 Taking a few deep breaths, Donald allowed himself a few minutes. Eyes traveling to the garden as he tried to find the right words to start with. A small smile formed seeing numerous daffodils growing proudly among the green.

 Della’s favorite flower... 

 He gave another nod and started.

[mythicaldemigoddess-of-deltarune]

My Feelings About Bradford Buzzard And His Grandmother

First, If No One Has Seen The Last Episode of The Final Season of Ducktales Reboot with the Last Adventure, do not read this unless you seen that episode first.

okay here goes...

My feelings on Bradford's Grandmother, I don't like her.

she is the reason Bradford became the way he is in the first place.

plus whenever Bradford tried to reason with Scrooge, he got ignored, so of

course he had to use the papyrus to make Scrooge, Della and Donald forget he was ever there. even if he did transform into a monster,

it wouldn't be because he's evil. it would be from the negative emotions and the misinterpretation people have of him, so he isn't truly a villain, if anything he is a victim and that jerk of a Finch is the root of it all.

Even if she is Scrooge's hero, but even he would need to accept that she was a insensitive woman who caused a child trauma that led him to grow-up cold and truly alone.

Yes Bradford made mistakes, but he was blinded.

He tried to keep chaos from going out of control, even if it meant doing something that would hurt a family, which he shouldn't of did and that had crossed a line.

I don't believe that Bradford was truly evil, he was just a broken soul who wanted to stop dangerous adventures and possibly save those like him from suffering the same trauma he suffered since his childhood.

No one has to agree with me, but I just feel that most villains have good in them.

And most of their trauma and suffering are caused by the good guys or the main hero/heroine.

Plus No Hero or Heroine should be above the consequences of damaging someone else's life,

Either they be another hero or villain or a neutral party.

Scrooge wasn't truly at fault for what happen to Della, but if you think about it, it was 100% Della's.

She could of not stole the ship, but she did. and it because she chose to listen to the one who told her of the surprise, she could of chose to ignore it and act surprise later, and not cause her family to end up they it did.

Scrooge didn't mean for to become lost in space, but he isn't excused for some truly heartless things he has done in the past because of his greed before he found the true greatest treasure, which is his family.

He hurt Magica, and I believe the reason why they had that fight so long ago in the series, is because she wanted to get him back for what happen to her brother.

Even if Louie made a good point, that his villains/enemies, made him a better person.

That still doesn't excuse him for purposely not helping someone who asked for help, even saying they give him anything if he help them.

The pain that Scrooge felt when he lost Della, was perhaps the same feeling that Magica felt when she lost her brother and never saw him again.

I believe that the Phantom Blot, might really be Mr Vanderquack, Bentina Beakley's son-in-law,

Who is now a widow, who lost his wife and Bentina's biological granddaughter, before Webby came along.

But the biological granddaughter could of survived, while Edna Beakley-Vanderquack did not.

the reason why Blot wants to destroy all magic and Magica,

might have to do with the fact that he lost his wife Edna and his child.

If the incident happen before Webby was born, then I think Pepper might really be Bentina's Granddaughter.

But all that is just a theory.  if the story picks up in a Darkwing Duck Reboot and reveals that the theory about Phantom Blot being Mr Vanderquack, the widow of Edna, and Pepper being his long-lost daughter is true....then I guess I would be surprised.

But yeah back to the whole Isabella Finch, she is truly not as great as everyone makes her.

She caused Bradford to become who he is, and she couldn't see the damage it would cause later in his life.

Plus I believe that there was a reason why we saw a clone of Bradford, the real Bradford might of known what would happen if he faced Scrooge, so he used that ray thing that makes someone smart or dumb,

Shot it at his clone that looked 100% like him, then sent the clone to deal with Scrooge, while the Real Bradford himself sneaked away unseen by both sides.

If that theory is true, then maybe it will show it in the reboot of Darkwing Duck.  

I hope some of you understand my view on Bradford, at first when it was revealed he was a part of FOWL, I did thought he was a villain. but after the episode that first showed that papyrus, and even showing a bit more of his past...but perhaps not all of it.

I don't view Bradford as someone who is evil, just someone who is deeply hurt and tried to do good but ended up hurting others in his quest to achieve it.

Yes he did wrong in his life, and he was blinded by his ambition that cost him in the end.

And we should try to remember, he wouldn't be that way if it wasn't for that insensitive Isabella Finch.

Once more, no one has to agree with my feelings about it. but I still find that Finch is my least favorite character in the Ducktales 2017 Continuum.

one of the tags for this is “True Monster” and to me,

Isabella Finch was the true monster.

Bradford was her victim, and she couldn’t see that her adventures that she dragged him on, was making him unhappy and would place stress, trauma and fear in his life, and making him go down a dark path just to keep the whole world safe.

Bradford wasn’t even truly evil, just broken and emotionally hurt.

which Della, Beakley, Scrooge and the rest of the family and friends couldn’t open their hearts and eyes enough to see.

it is possible the only one who could see it, was Magica.

because the way she said that he wasn’t a villain.

I can’t agree with the actions of those who are suppose to be “Good”

but end up hurting those who are just hurt themselves.

Discord didn’t even get a proper punishment,

he, Celestia and Luna just made the three scapegoats of his actions, get turned to stone, and Star Butterfly despite the fact that her and her family have misused magic for who knows how long of generations,

she chooses to move the blame from her Mother,

to magic itself, who let me remind you everyone, is not truly at fault, but those like Star and her family who wield it.

and if you misuse that power, it is your fault, not the source of the realm your magic comes from.

at least Lena was able to do better than what Star did, I still love SVTFOE

(and still hope to get a complete dvd collection of SVTFOE someday.) 

and the last episode was still good, but I can’t agree with placing blame on magic, when it was Moon who misused it and caused so many lives to be in danger, and even ended up with Quirky dying.

Steven Quartz Universe, he went through trauma in his life that caused him to end up the way he turned out in Steven Universe Future.

I for one, love both the first series, the movie and Steven Universe Future.

the Steven Universe Future brought out some truth of Steven, that some can relate to and understand but maybe not fully.

because of what was revealed in Steven Universe Future,

about Greg’s past, I see him as both a Good and yet Bad person.

same with how Rose was during her life, as both when she was Pink Diamond,

and then when she reformed as “Rose Quartz”, which I still think that would make her a Trans-Gem, like gems who are normally be made one way, might feel like they are either a Rose Quartz, a Ruby or even a Zircon.

but the episode where we learn a bit more of Greg’s past, like how he felt about his parents and how he viewed their rules and how it seem like a prison to him.

but he might of only seen what he wanted to see, he might not of got the full picture growing up, and I had theorized that one of his parents could of been sensitive to loud music/sound, it is possible that Greg couldn’t understand.

Steven had a right to be mad at Greg, and even disappointed in him too.

Greg had cheered him up, and even made him happy finding out about his father’s old home.

but Greg made his son go back down to his lows again.

it was good that it was revealed that Steven is getting the help he needs.

when he corrupted himself, it was good that no one tried to hurt him

but hugged him when he needed that emotional support.

the kind that shows that those who are his family and friends, are there for him and are sorry they couldn’t see how much pain he was going through.

at times when a character who is normally a villain, and shows no sign of goodness in them (unlike Chrysalis, Cozy Glow and  Tirek showed when they bonded in one episode....who had shown a side of good that was in them.)

they can’t be saved...

I wont force others to agree on my view on all this, just try to respect that is how I see it.

not all villains are evil, some end up being Anti-Villains,

just as how some heroes who aren’t always good, end up as Anti-Heroes.

 even if Isabella Finch was long gone in the world of Ducktales 2017,

but to me she was the root of Bradford’s suffering and trauma.

and that makes her the woman behind the man, and the true villain.    

 now I am gonna just go and sign off and have me time.

I might sign back on later or tomorrow, it depends.

and I really hope some of you will understand how I view Bradford,

yes at first I thought of him as a villain after it turned out he was FOWL.

but then after seeing the other sides of him, I can’t help but understand he was misunderstood and he only wanted to protect the world from danger.

(he just ended up going about it the wrong way, and went too far in the wrong ways to achieve that peace.)

and his grandmother Isabella, Ludwig, Scrooge, everyone, including the rest of FOWL, couldn’t see that.

I hope that at least such a thing gets resolved in a darkwing duck reboot.

and the Bradford we saw in the very end, turned out to be one of his clones.

because I believe that Bradford deserved better, he was not born that way, he was made that way because of his so called grandmother, who couldn’t see that she was making him unhappy and causing him trauma.

well thanks for listening, and once again no one has to agree about my feeling about Bradford or Isabella Finch,

or the whole theory about Phantom Blot being Bentina’s son-in-law,

who she thought died along with her daughter and granddaughter....

well the granddaughter she had before taking Webby in.

see ya later and keep safe everybody.                                      

[shiftysdogtags]

Heyyy can I have a Joe Toye request. He asks a girl to dance one weekend while at Toccoa and really likes her and blah blah blah. Goes off to war. Then meets again after he’s wounded, maybe she’s a nurse, and he’s all ashamed because he can’t dance now, but she likes him anyway. Or something. Idk, I just have the bare bones idea. 🤔

Hi! I kinda went with your idea and i really hope it's okay and it's what you we're thinking of. it gave me so many Joe Toye feels and i didn't think i was possible to fall more in love with him. 

All requests are open💕

Taglist: @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @floydtab @curraheewestandalone @liebegott @vintagelavenderskies

Dance with Me

Joe looked at her sitting all by herself. While all her fellow nurses got up to dance with various guys, Y/N sat tapping her feet to the music. He couldn’t understand how no one had asked her to dance.

Joe placed his drink down on the table with sudden realisation. He thought Y/N was beautiful and he couldn’t stand to see her alone, but he was also glad she wasn’t pressed closely against some paratrooper who would run his dirty hands all over her. “I want her” Joe nodded at Y/N with his head

“You go get ‘em” Luz rolled his eyes at his friends knowing full well he couldn’t dance to save his life.

With one last look, Joe stood to his feet and It was like he had tunnel vision. Nothing else mattered except Y/N and he couldn’t help but wonder how her hand would feel wrapped in his. He realised he would have to ask her before he could dream about how her skin felt.

The closer he got the further away he felt and the more his nerves made him shake. At some point, he caught her attention and she was staring back at him. It was too late to back out now, he thought. She had seen him walking towards her and he didn’t want the embarrassment of having to return to his friends after chickening out.

Joe had crossed the room and as he stood in front of her, he suddenly lost the use of his voice. Y/N waited for him to speak but Joe was in awe of her and the way she held herself. “Dance” He blurted out. Joe closed his eyes in awkwardness. He didn’t even say hello or tell her his name.

When Joe opened his eyes, he expected Y/N to be bewildered and get up and leave, but there was nothing but a warm look in her eyes. “Are you asking me to dance soldier?”  

“I’m trying to” he said in a mousy tone of voice, almost shrinking away from her. Joe looked at the floor as he felt his cheeks redden, but he didn’t miss the smirk she sent his way. Y/N held out her hand, which he took both gratefully and confused.

She was the one to lead him to the dance floor and he gladly let her. Y/N turned to face him, placing both of Joe’s hands on her waist and hers around his neck. The feeling of her hand gripping his neck was everything he thought it would be and more.

Joe continued to stare at his feet, trying to avoid standing on her toes, and he only looked up when Y/N spoke into his ear. “So, are you going to tell me your name soldier?”

After that night, Y/N and Joe were inseparable when they both had free time. Although spare time was rare, because he was running Currahee or doing more jump training, he always made time for her. When she wasn’t learning how to treat gunshot wound or about bandages, she was at Joe’s side.

When he had to leave for Aldbourne, he promised to write her every chance he got. It was a promise he kept and despite the terribly horrific mail service, Y/N received letters from Joe. Sometimes two came at once due to the backlog of deliveries. She lived for his letters, his handwriting like a song she was desperate to hear. The letters became few and far between the longer the war went on, but she didn’t blame Joe because she surely knew he was busy.

One day the letters stopped coming altogether. At first, Y/N though it was the crappy mail service, but the other nurses were getting their mail just fine. She kept writing to him for weeks with not a single reply. It wasn’t until she asked her friend Anna, who was dating Donald Malarkey in Joe’s company, to ask her boyfriend what was up that she learned why he hadn’t been replying. For months she worried about him, but little did she know what had happened to him and poor Bill Guarnere in Bastogne.

The months she spent writing letters to him in Europe and he was lying in an adjacent hospital ward to the one she worked in. As soon as she found out, Y/N went to see him, but he didn’t want to see her. No matter how many times she tried to get in, she was refused entry on Joe’s orders. She decided to write him more letters, giving them to the nurse on duty instead of mailing.

Seven or eight letters and three weeks later Y/N had enough. She was going into that ward whether Joe Toye liked it or not and she was going to give him a piece of her mind.

Y/N pulled the curtain back to see Joe sitting up in his bed looking out the window. His head snapped towards her when he heard the hooks of the curtain screeching against the metal pole and his face fell. The rollercoaster of emotions on his face could be easily read. Fear to shame, to anger.

“Get out.” Despite the rage boiling with him he never screamed or raised his voice. He wasn’t mad at her; he was mad that she was seeing him in the state he was currently in. All the scrapes on his face and arms were nearly finished healing, but his leg, although under a thin white sheet, was obviously wrapped up in thick layers of bandages.

“Joe- “

“Leave, please.” His chest was heaving, trying to breathe and calm himself down.

Y/N stood still, her legs heavy like stone, even if she wanted to move, she couldn’t. She stared at him while he looked everywhere but at her. The silence between them was full of tension and discomfort. In all the time she had known him, there was never an awkward moment between them.

“Joe, talk to me.” She sounded desperate, the quiet between them was killing her. She needed to know why he was ignoring her and pushing her away.

“I can't dance.” He blurted it out with a tone that was obviously harsher than he meant. His shoulders relaxed as he let out a heavy breath and she watched his eyes momentarily close. “I can't- I can't dance.”

Joe’s brown eyes avoided looking at her, missing the baffled expression on her face. The completely unexpected and spontaneous admission confused Y/N to no end. What has dancing got to do with anything?

She didn’t understand. Joe was sweet and he always had a smile waiting for her. Ever since she had met him, he had never uttered a word in a harsh tone towards here, and yet here he was like his personality had done a complete U-turn.

“Joe, what do you mean?” Y/N only had the words out of her mouth, and she remembered his leg. Glancing down, she wanted to slap herself there and then. Joe reached down to touch where his leg should’ve been in an almost automatic reaction.

Joe looked at her looking at his leg. He tried to read her reaction. Pity was the last thing he wanted and certainly not from her. He would rather she blew into anger or a fit of rage than stand in front of him with sympathy written all over her face.

She could see him battling with himself to choose the right words. The expression on his face was a mixture of fear and embarrassment. He was ashamed. Y/N knew Joe struggled to describe his feelings, especially when it came to her. Patience was the only way to deal with him when he got like this. “The night we met- “

When he didn’t continue his sentence, Y/N knew he was lost for words. He couldn’t say what he wanted to say out straight and direct, so she chose another method. It was guaranteed to get him to talk to her at least. “You hadn’t said two words to me until you asked me to dance.” Y/N beamed.

“The most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.” The memory would be forever engraved in his mind, something he thought of regularly at night in his foxhole. Joe felt his heart sing and break all at once. With a hoarse voice he swallowed the lump in his throat and begged the tears not to fall.

They fell into another silence and Joe was sure she could hear his heart pounding against his chest. He was so deeply in love with her he was prepared to let her go and move on with someone else. He didn’t want her to settle for him and look back in twenty years’ time and regret visiting him in the hospital. He didn’t want her to stay with him because she felt some sort of obligation towards him just because they were together.

“Dancing, that’s what your problem is? You want to dance, with me?” Y/N almost laughed, but for his sake she didn’t. He didn’t answer, avoiding her eyes once again and suddenly interested on the loose thread of the white hospital sheets.

“You should be with someone you can dance with, someone who can make you as happy as you were that night.”

It was then Y/N couldn’t hold in her slight laugh. Biting her lip was the only way to stop herself and she felt bad for poor Joe. Obviously offended, his face dropped causing her to place her hand on his cheek. At first, he physically flinched away but against his better judgement he leaned against her hand. “Joe, I only danced because you asked me. I'm not a big lover of dancing, that’s why I was sitting on my own.”

He couldn’t believe it. The whole time he lay in the hospital bed he thought back to that night and he swore he had never seen someone as happy as Y/N did on that dance floor. The thought of not being able to make her that happy ever again scared him. He could live with only one leg, but he couldn’t live with knowing he was stopping the person he loved from truly being happy.

“I love you” Joe placed his hand over hers, kissing her palm.

“I love you too.” Y/N noticed his hand was rougher than she remembers, but it didn’t change how she felt about him. He was her Joey, no matter what. “And besides, I wouldn’t want to dance with anyone but you.”

[fairymadnessyeah]

A Definitely Real Dad

Link to AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24016309

Summary: Gyro seeks advice from an expert when he is faced with his greatest foe yet: Parenting an adorable real boy.

Or Alternatively: Mad scientist feeling emotions for tiny adorable robot needs help from tired and expert parent that is also a sailor.

Notes: This needs to happen.

Also Ducktales Disney right now: "You get a child, you get a child, you get a child, EVERYBODY GETS A CHILD!!!!"

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Why do you think Doctor Gearloose invited us to his lab?" Huey asked his companions Louis, Dewey, Webby, Della and Donald as they rode the elevator to the underwater laboratory below McDuck Enterprises'.

The elevator dinged and open its doors, revealing Doctor Gearloose looking at a piece of paper while Manny, Lil Bulb and Fenton working on a turbine.

"Oh, the ducks are here!" Gyro exclaims, folding the paper he had on his hands and pocketing it in his pants. He gently leads the family to where his partners were working as he explains why he needed them here. "I need your assistance testing my new mega super plane turbine powered by gold!"

Almost all the ducks present gasp in amazement and run towards the invention. The only one that looks at it in suspicion is the mature Donald Duck. He eventually shrugs it off, his uncle's employee wouldn't purposely put his kids in danger. But then he feels a feathered hand on his shoulder and a dark aura behind him. He turned around slowly, the feathers at the back of his neck standing up.

Doctor Gyro Gearloose was looking down at him, his face neutral and the light shining against his glasses hid his eyes, making him look extremely intimidating. "You will come with me Mr Duck," The scientist tells him slowly and threateningly.

As the unluckiest duck on the world was being shoved to a side room by the mad scientist, his family, ignorant to what was happening to him, kept playing with the machine. Although it didn't take long for the kids and Della to lose interest. As the turbine got boring, they noticed that the duck sailor was missing. Fenton dismissed their worries though, telling them that Doctor Gearloose probably needed him for something and continued to show them his inventions.

"And these are my spy-bugs," Fenton presents, showing them a bunch of different flying insects robots. Pressing a code on a mini-computer, the firefly one activates, lifting into the air. "With these little guys, we would be able to have 24-hour surveillance. They all work in a hive-mind structure and are controlled by this remote device that can be connected with any sort of memory RAM. NOW CONTEMPLATE!" Fenton uses the remote device to move the firefly out of the room and then turn on the giant computer of the lab and it starts showing what the robot is recording.

"HOW COME YOU WON'T DO IT!?"  A shout echoes nearby the robot and Fenton, recognising Dr Gearloose voice, makes the machine follow the sound. They see an office where Gyro is holding Donald by his uniform and shaking him. The scientist then sighs and lets him go.  "Well, If you won't cooperate, then you leave me no choice!"  Gyro declares as he takes off his glasses dramatically and stands taller over the duck, looking ready to destroy him.

"PLEEEEEEESSSSSEEEEEEEE!"

The peppers let go of the breath they were holding. Gyro had not done anything to Donald, instead, he fell to his knees and begged the other bird as he held his glasses in his hands clasped like a prayer.

"Alright, I'll help you," Donald sighs, his voice resembling that of a normal being. Dewey said he sounded like an actor from one of those comic book movies that everybody got crazy for. "But I can't guarantee results," Gyro got up and, out of nowhere, got top-notch audio recording gear and sat on a stool with a note pad and a pen.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"First," Donald started. "You need to listen. Listen to what they say, how they say it and what they don't say. That is usually where the problems appear,"

"You also need to be trustworthy. You want them to come to you with their problems. But until that happens, you need to show them that you can and will help them solve their problem,"

"But if they don't tell me what's wrong how am I supposed to know that something is even wrong?" Gyro asks.

"That is the next tip, notice the little details. For example, whenever Huey drinks chocolate-milk with three spoons of cocoa powder instead of two, means that his junior woodchuck meeting didn't go so well; Whenever Dewey does a dance that consists of two spins, one flip and landing on bent knees and jazz hands means he is proud of something; or whenever Louis gets a wrinkle next to his right eye, means he is lying,"

"But the two most important things you need to remember and never forget is that you are a parent and that your life is not only yours anymore,"

"What do you mean?" Gyro asks again. "I am his parent, what else would I be?"

"It means that you aren't his friend, you aren't his buddy that will never get mad and will do anything for you. You are his parent and sometimes, you have to be the bad guy of the story," Donald tells him.

"And the life-thing?"

"It's his no. You eat what they want to eat, you eat what they want to eat, you watch what they want to watch. Your life revolves around them, they matter more than you or your feelings now,"

Gyro nods and it looks like he is about to say something but the screen turns black.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hey," Dewey complains as the image disappears.

"I'm sorry little ducks, but that seemed like a private conversation and I refuse to eavesdrop on it anymore," Fenton tells them as the robotic-firefly returns and he leaves it with the rest. "Come, I have more inventions you can play with it," He gently guides them away from the monitor.

The ducks follow him with Lil Bulb behind them, except for one. The grown woman was starring at the screen. Every time she believed that she understood how the last years without her had been for her twin, she found out that there was something she had missed. And Donald's examples, about the tiniest details of the boys, she didn't know any of them, yet Donald seemed to know them by heart.

"Mom?" Dewey called as he turned back for her, after noticing she didn't follow them.

"Comin' honey" She snapped out of her inner monologue and followed her kids.

They spent a whole afternoon testing and helping Fenton, at some point, even Boyd joined them. The kids spent the evening together, playing, laughing and catching up. Boyd was now living full-time at the lab with Dr Gearloose, Manny and Lil Bulb.

The drakes had not taken the news very well, believing that once Boyd left, things would go back to the way things were before him. But the real boy made sure to pass his half of the inheritance to the two responsible adults, leaving Doofus without the power to be richer than his parents. They were all making plans for Boyd to come and sleepover at McDuck when the duck and the rooster that were missing came into the room. Dewey was the first one to ask for the cybernetic boy to come over.

"Well, I have no problem with it," Donald said in his normal voice.

"May I go, Dr Gearloose?" Boyd asks, looking up to the scientist.

"Maybe some other time, we still have to check if there is any residual damage from Beaks viruses on you," The chicken explains and pats the real boy on the head.

"Alright, thank you Dr Gearloose,"

Not long after the duck family is leaving, as well as Dr Fenton. Manny also retreated to his quarters soon enough. Gyro was working on Boyd wiring while the real boy was telling him about his day.

"And Mrs mom was very sad when I got to leave but she told me I can return any moment,"

"Would you like that?" Gyro asks remembering what Donald had told him.  ("Make him feel listened to. Do things he likes, and if they want to do anything without you, let him be. You are not the only person in his life.")

"Yes, that would be splendid! Once my programme is clear, could we visit?" Boyd asks.

"Of Course we can," Gyro tells him as he closes the lid on the robot's head. "But now it's time to recharge so that you have all your energy for tomorrow. You have that Woodchuck-thingy you like, right?"

"Yes, my Junior Woodchuck meeting, at 9:30 sharp, remember to bring Ice-pops wood sticks," He says as if reading a remainder on a calendar while the scientist and his creation when to Boyd's room.

The room used to be a storage closet for failed projects, but they put up a sliding door to give Boyd more privacy. The real boy had a closet, a small library with a study table, a laptop, some video-games and a bed. The bed was more like a nest, with a Japanese mattress and a lot of pillows and blankets piled up to make a circular form. Boyd would usually sleep in the middle with the blankets and pillows cocooning him in warmth. Next to his bed-nest, there is a tall bulbless lamp. Doctor Gyro used to have it in his room since it was Lil Bulb's resting place, but the little rascal moved it once Boyd's room started being furnished.

"Alright, I'll drive you tomorrow and we will pick up what you need on the way," Gyro tells him as he connects wires to his back panel to charge him. "If you need anything I will be on the room next door," The chicken said.  ("Always remind him that you are there for him. Kids tend to forget that,")

"Goodnight, Dr Gearloose!"

"Goodnight, Boyd!" He sees Lil Bulb climbing the lamp and posting himself on the top, before the light it emitted turned off before he leaves the room.

As soon as he is outside, the renewed scientist with a high intellect punched the air in excitement as the word "Success!" went off in his mind. When he turned to his side, heading towards his room, he saw Manny in front of his own door. The two scientists looked at each other for a while, no one moving, until the rooster fixes his clothes and his glasses.

"Not a tap from you, or your headless behind is fired," He tells the horse as he steps into his room.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Another date, another morning, another day where Doctor Gyro Gearloose wakes up to another mistake made by naive and foolish Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera that he had to deal with. This time in the form of a weird duck dressed in so much black, that the scientist is willing to bet its a hobo-emo that his stupid ex-intern picked up last night. The guy looks extremely beat up and not alone. There is also that stupid pilot that hangs around McDuck and a girl duckling.

Gyro sighs frustrated and rubs his temples. He did not have time for this. He had to take Boyd to his scouts meeting and even buy something on the way there.

"Explanation, Now," Gyro demand as he goes closer and checks on the individual better.

Launchpad, Fenton and the kid, who he learns her name is Gosalyn and the daughter of said hobo-emo, tell him that Gizmoduck and Darkwing Duck had a sort of agreement. They each take turns patrolling the city, both day and night, but last night, Darkwing came upon something too big for him and Gosalyn, who Gyro was starting to realize had more brain cells than the three adults combined, called Gizmoduck for back up. The two self-proclaimed superheroes ended the job, but the one not protected by a metallic super-suit, unsurprisingly, got the worst part of the stick and ended up in here to recover.

Just as they finished explaining their night full of shenanigans, Boyd came out into the main room of the lab, wearing his Junior Woodchuck uniform and a backpack.

"Oh, hi! I am B.O.Y.D! A definitely real boy!" The android says once he notices the other unknown ducks in the room.

"I want them out of my lab by the moment I'm back, Crackshell. Understood?" Gyro threatens the other scientist, that nods in response, and then turns to Boyd. "Come on Boyd, we don't want to be late to your meeting," The boy takes his hand and the two walk to the elevator.

"It was nice to meet you!" Boyd tells the others and waves as the elevator doors close.

The two birds head to the central park of Duckberg, stopping on a convenience store on their way. Using his moped is easier and faster than any car, not needing to wait for traffic. And even if Boyd can fly, he had already told him to only use his robotic enhancements when needed. Not to mention that it also helps with one of the tips he was given yesterday.  ("You have to prioritize him. Once everything is done with him, you can follow with your day,")

The reach the park fairly quickly, but when he gives Boyd the things they bought for this meeting, he notices that the backpack moves. It takes him a second to realize that Bulb never came out of the boy's room.

"Come on out Lil Bulb," He tells the backpack, and sure enough, said invention comes out of the little boy's knapsack.

"He wanted to accompany me to my Junior Woodchuck meeting," Boyd tells him. "Can he come?" ("You have to set rules, boundaries. There are things that they can't do or can't touch. And you have to tell him so, because even if it sounds obvious to you, it might not to them.")

"He can't Boyd, I need him at the lab," He explains to the real boy.

"Understood. Goodbye, Doctor Gearloose!"

"I'll see you at lunch," The scientist gets back on his moped and straps his helmet on. He notices that Lil Bulb is giving his back to him with his arm crossed, as if offended over what happened. "Oh please, don't be difficult you too,"

As he makes his way back to the underwater lab, he can't help the feeling that those three lunatic and that girl are gonna be there. Not surprisingly, when the elevator's doors ding open, the idiot, the stupid and the girl are marvelling at the facility and its contents as hobo-emo was slowly getting off the table he was laid in and stretching his column back into place.

"Gosalyn, don't touch that! You don't know what it does!" He reprimands the girl.

Gyro sighs defeated and pours himself a cup of coffee. As he sips his revival elixir, his mind wanders at the purple and black buffoon before him. The guy was in a dire need of an upgrade. He didn't scream battle-suit like Gizmo, but maybe a few gadgets and a more protective and lasting outfit would benefit him. If the guy was going to go around and try to be a nameless and unrecognised vigilante, the least he could do was have more than just a costume and a poor ensemble of sidekicks.

"Gosalyn, No, Get down from there!" Or maybe what he needed was something else.

Gyro looked at the girl duckling, who was balancing over an old cloning tube of his, and then back at the nightly superhero, who had red lines over his eyes, enormous black bags under his eyes, a stiff neck and almost ready to drop dead any second now. Analysing the facts he had, he made a decision.

"Gosalyn, Get down from there, We need to go! Now!" The dark avenger of the night kept scolding the younger duck, that still lead him nowhere.

"Here," Gyro, out of nowhere, presented a card to the shorter man. "A parenting expert, it seems like you need it,"

Drake looks between the card and the scary mad scientist twice before taking the card. Gyro left him alone once he took it to keep working on his inventions, leaving Drake to his own devices with the card.

Donald Duck xxx-xxxx-xxxx McDuck Manor's Pool

[waveypedia]

Key to a Memory

(warning for swearing)

~

{people need a melody to open their eyes

like a key to a memory frozen in time

holding on to everything, you’re stuck in the past

boy dontcha know that the world moves fast

it’s been a little while since we’ve been together

it’s been a long time since we were young and wild, remember

when we were friends, remember}

--

May 14, 2019 I 6:26 pm

UNKNOWN NUMBER: GYRO

UNKNOWN NUMBER: HEY GYRO

UNKNOWN NUMBER: It’s me Della!! Your bud!!!

UNKNOWN NUMBER: I’m back from space!!!

UNKNOWN NUMBER: I can’t believe you have the same number you nerd! lol I remember when Uncle Scrooge finally forced you to get a phone and you got a super cheap one and then upgraded it with your own tech

UNKNOWN NUMBER: I can’t wait to see how much more upgraded and fancy your phone is now!

UNKNOWN NUMBER: sorry for not texting you sooner I got back a couple days ago but things have just been really hectic since then ya know??

UNKNOWN NUMBER: anyway I know you’re probably busy changing the world and inventing amazing things for Uncle Scrooge

UNKNOWN NUMBER: he told me you got an intern!! Congrats!! I can’t wait to meet them

UNKNOWN NUMBER: just call me when you get a chance ok? I’d really like to catch up

--

“GYRO!!” Della screamed, kicking open the door to the lab. Gyro scowled at his desk and scrawled a quick note to outfit the elevator with self-opening doors. The scientist sighed and stood up reluctantly, stepping around his desk to be in full view. “What is it now, Della?”

Della sprinted into the lab, her grin threatening to split her face in two. She exuberantly waved a bundle of papers in Gyro’s face. “Donnie and I got tickets to the new Galaxy Wars movie, and you’re coming!! Thursday at 6!! Be there or be square!!”

Gyro snorted and gently waved her off, pushing the tickets out of his face. “Dels, I’m busy here. Besides, any self-respecting scientist knows those movies are garbage.”

Della fake-pouted and slung her arm around Gyro’s shoulders, despite the height difference. She had to lean and go up on her tiptoes to manage, making Gyro burst out in a fit of laughter. She shrugged, tugging Gyro down to her height. “Whatever. The premiere was a couple weeks ago, so you probably won’t get into a fistfight with an overzealous fan this time-”

“-Their fault-” Gyro muttered under his breath as Della prattled on.

“-Aaaaaand Cousin Gladdy’ll be there! With his luck we probably won’t get kicked out by the ushers,” Della finished proudly.

Gyro rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Ugh, Gladstone? That man is too self-absorbed. Takes one to know one. And does that mean Fethry will be there as well?”

“Yep!” Della beamed. “He loves science, Gy, and he loves you! He’ll grow on you one day.”

“Highly unlikely.” Gyro shoved her arm off and stretched, standing up to his full height. “I grudgingly respect Fethry’s passion and his interest in scientific fields. He’s just so…” Gyro huffed. “Annoying.”

Della poked him in the beak. “Whatever. If you think Fethry’s annoying, my buddy Loopy from flight school will be there and she’ll blow your mind. But in a good way! Loopy’s amazing!”

Gyro groaned and slapped a hand on his face, slowly dragging it down. “Loopy and I are your only friends, aren’t we?”

Della puffed her chest out in mock effrontery. “I have lots of friends! I’m the best at making friends! They’re just all over the globe, you know, cause of all the amazing and daring adventuring I do!”

Gyro snorted and knocked his friend with his shoulder. “Whatever. When one of these international ‘friends’ comes around to Duckburg and hangs out with you beyond the adventure, let me know.”

Della smirked. “So you’ll be there?”

“Fine. I’ll be there.” Gyro affirmed, rolling his eyes.Della beamed mischievously. “Wonderful! See you there! Also it’s a sleepover and I’m adding you to a group chat specifically for this event now byeeeeee!!!”

“WHAT?!” Gyro squawked, racing after Della, but the elevator dinged and carried her far away. “Della! No! Come back! DELLA!!! I WILL NOT SUBJECT MYSELF TO THE TORTURES OF YOUR CHILDISH SLEEPOVER!!!” He chanced a look at his phone. It was already blowing up with texts from Della and Fethry.

Gyro groaned and slammed his head down on his desk, grateful for the solitude of his lab. He pulled up the calendar Scrooge filled with his deadlines from the board and added the movie night so he wouldn’t forget. A small, pleased smile played at his beak.

He picked up his phone, muted the group chat, and returned to his work.

 --

read 9:28 pm

--

May 15 I 4:03 pm

Della Duck: hey dumbass

Della Duck: they have read receipts now stupid

Della Duck: I know you saw my messages

Della Duck: whatever I know you’re hella busy just call me when you get the chance

Della Duck: hahah did you see that? hella! I used new slang!

Della Duck: Louie taught it to me :D

Della Duck: I can’t believe his name is Louie and not Rebel! I’m kinda mad at Donald but also it suits him more than Rebel

Della Duck: Dewey though… he’s DEFINITELY a Turbo

Della Duck: Huey could go either way but he’s okay with Huey so I guess I am too

Della Duck: It’s a lot to take in

Della Duck: although Webby would be overjoyed to be Jet or Rebel

Della Duck: I can’t believe I have an extra daughter!!! how cool is that?? four kids for the price of three!!

Della Duck: or maybe it’s more like six kids for the price of three since Webby had friends over today and they all seem close

Della Duck: Ooh you know who would be a good Rebel? Lena! apparently she just came back from the shadow realm??? I missed so much

Della Duck: i can’t believe you guys got to fight magica de spell without me AND she had a kid

Della Duck: she’s still kinda hot ngl

Della Duck: but louie showed me a picture of her after she lost her magic and ehhhh

Della Duck: but also there are lots of hot people around these days and I’m kinda freaked out

Della Duck: like I made a best friend of my roommate on the moon!! Her name’s Penumbra but I call her Penny and I’d let her stomp on me. Best part is she probably would

Della Duck: also Uncle Scrooge got a new pilot & driver and I hate him cause he’s sorta replacing me?? But also he’s hot in a himbo kinda way

Della Duck: I know you have insanely high standards but you gotta back me up here gyro Launchpad is kinda hot

Della Duck: damn i’ve missed our conversations about various hot people and our lack of love lives

Della Duck: I told you about Penny you gotta fill me in on the current hotties in the Duckburg science community

Della Duck: I also met your intern! He seems nice ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ) ;) ;) ;)

Della Duck: i can hear your voice. “Della that is an excessive amount of emoticons”

Della Duck: well if you want me to stop you’ll just have to reply ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;)

Della Duck: at least you’re not telling me to use “emojis”Della Duck: apparently they all have hidden meanings and I don’t understand

Della Duck: Louie, Dewey, and Lena tried to teach Uncle Scrooge and I

Della Duck: I’m ashamed to say I think he fared better than I did

Della Duck: he’s old!! He’s supposed to be clueless!! I’m not old I was just on the moon for a decade!! That’s gotta count for something right?

4:46 pm

Della Duck: i see how it is

Della Duck: ignore me all you want but i’m right

--

The sun was nearly below the horizon, painting the evening sky and the waves below it in a plethora of muted colors, when Della broke the topic. “Yo. I think Magica de Spell is kinda hot.”

Gyro swerved to stare at her so fast he felt something in his neck crack. “Magica?! She’s ancient; are you crazy?!”

Della shrugged, kicking sand around absentmindedly with her bare toes. “Yeah, but she doesn’t look it. She’s hot in an unattainable kind of way.”

Gyro snorted, loud and sad. “I know how that feels.”

Della nudged him teasingly. “What’s going on in your love life? I shared, now you have to.”

Gyro rolled his eyes and nudged her back, harder. “You know nothing’s happening.” He shrugged carelessly. “It’s not like I have much time outside of work.”

“Yeah, but that’s because you refuse to take care of yourself and you act like you’ll die if you leave the lab,” Della said good-naturedly. “You should come on an adventure with us!”

Gyro sighed contentedly and waved her away. “I’ll stick to the lab, thanks. My inventions’ corrupted morality circuits provide me quite enough stress and adventure, thank you very much.”

(He couldn’t very well tell her that her dear ol’ uncle had entrusted him with the project of a lifetime, his chance to thank her for her gift of friendship, his chance to prove himself to Mr. McDuck for once and for all, his chance to redeem himself from the smoking failure that was 2BO. He didn’t have to run himself ragged working on the Spear of Selene day and night, but this was important, far more important than anything Gyro had worked on at McDuck Industries before. For his career, and for his friendship. And he wanted to do it right.)

(Shame he failed in the end anyway.)

Della sighed assent, smiling, and leaned back on her elbows, working her fingers into the sand. She had given up for now, but Gyro knew she would broach the subject again soon, from a new angle, with a new tactic. Della Duck never gave up.

“Maybe one day,” Gyro said, surprising himself. After this whole Spear debacle is said and done.

Della beamed and knocked her shoulder into his affectionately. “I’ll hold you to that!”

Gyro smiled wryly. “I know you will.”

--

Gyro pushed up his glasses and studied Della’s texts, willing his eyes not to unfocus and his brain not to zone out. He read them once, twice, three times. Four.

He began typing.

Gyro Gearloose: I remember-

Gyro Gearloose: My love life is as nonexistent as it was when you left-

Gyro Gearloose: emojis are zealous anyway-

Gyro Gearloose: I’m sorry-

He deleted his words, frustrated, nerves and old, painful memories rubbed raw, and never sent a reply.

--

June 11 I 2:09 pm

Della Duck: so Fenton and I went out for coffee today

Della Duck: not on a date, just as a chance to get to know each other platonically

Della Duck: he’s so much like you

Della Duck: not on the surface. In fact you guys are pretty much opposites

Della Duck: but you both care so much, even though you show it differently

Della Duck: i know you care your prickly demeanor can’t fool me

Della Duck: you’re both incredibly passionate about sciences

Della Duck: you’re both super awkward

Della Duck: he has high praise for you, and he really admires you, but it sounds like you’re not that close and I think you totally should be!

Della Duck: I know you’re probably annoyed that I’m meddling in your (love) life again, but get used to it!! I’m the best wingman and friend and I’m here to stay!!

Della Duck: even if you don’t text me back

Della Duck: (but seriously, please text me back. I miss you.)

Della Duck: he said you might need some space and I guess that makes sense but i just don’t understand why

Della Duck: that’s the only reason I haven’t stormed down to the lab by now

Della Duck: Did i do something before I took off for the moon?

Della Duck: or are you like Donnie and you’re mad?Della Duck: at least I think Donnie’s mad

Della Duck: or he will be

Della Duck: he’s on a cruise, Gyro! A fucking cruise!!!

Della Duck: he left the day I got back and now he’s gone for a fucking month

Della Duck: he thinks I’m dead

Della Duck: I miss him so much

Della Duck: the cruise doesn’t allow cell phones so I can’t even contact him and tell him I’m alive

Della Duck: But Huey and I sent postcards!! I don’t know if they’ll reach him but I really hope they do

Della Duck: Huey and Webby have been checking the mailbox meticulously to see if he sends one back

Della Duck: sorry for ranting

Della Duck: I just miss him

Della Duck: I miss you too you know? Yeah i’m being stupid sappy again but it’s dumb that you’re right here, across the city, and we haven’t talked

Della Duck: call me gyro you fucking coward

2:43 pm

Della Duck: also Fenton is totally Gizmoduck right

Della Duck: I met Gizmoduck once when he came to formally greet me

Della Duck: and i’ve seen him around the city lots

Della Duck: but they’re so similar. They have the same mannerisms

Della Duck: I guess that means you built his armor then right?

Della Duck: or you helped

Della Duck: it’s great Gyro

Della Duck: look at you! An invention that didn’t turn evil!!

Della Duck: I’m proud of you bud

--

“Have you ever thought about hiring someone to help in the lab?” Della asked one day, apropos of nothing.

She had dragged Gyro into a fancy coffee shop - one he’d probably be banned from had he attempted to patronize it on his own, and one he would be in the post-Spear of Selene era - and forced him to take a break from the top secret project he’d been devoting all his time to. They bought overpriced, bougie coffees on Mr. McDuck’s dime and traded jabs without any real bite to them, as was customary for them. Della mocked Gyro’s unique taste for black licorice, again. Same old, same old.

And then, this.

Gyro paused, his ceramic mug halfway to his face. “I’m fine on my own. Any help would only get in my way. They would stumble over their own feet and I would have to take precious time off of my own projects to tediously help them flail and fall.”

Della set down her coffee and leaned forward with her elbows on the table. “You’re so cynical. Besides, you’re working yourself to death down there! It might help if you had someone else to lighten the load.”

Gyro paused. “I suppose I might be more productive if I didn’t have to do the menial tasks beneath me…”

“-And you could make a FRIEND!!!” Della cheered, standing up and leaning heavily on the table, her enthusiasm thundering in full-force. “Someone to chat with on late nights deep in projects, someone who understands your passion for science, someone you can count on when Donnie and I are off on an adventure!”

Gyro groaned, startled at first but then settling into resignation. “I should have known you had an ulterior motive.”

Della giggled, batting her eyelashes jokingly. “I only have your best interests at heart.”

Gyro shrugged and swirled his quickly-cooling coffee around in his mug. “Besides, Dels, you know there’s a reason you’re one of my only friends, right? You and Dickie and Daisy, you’re the people I’m closest with and that’s because you wouldn’t put up with my prickly, stay-alone-all-the-time bullshit. You guys drag me out of whatever place I’m holed up in kicking and screaming. Most people are not like that. I’m lucky to have three of you,” he admitted in the kind of moment of uncharacteristic vulnerability and clarity that only comes when you’re with someone you really trust.

Della snorted and reached across the table to shove Gyro gently. “Shut your self-depricating hole, Gyro Gearloose. Trust me, I wouldn’t put up with you if I didn’t want to.”

Gyro smirked, a small smile chasing away the dark storm clouds that covered his face. “I know, Dels.”

“Good.” Della replied self-assuredly. “I love Dickie and Daisy, and I love that they love you, but they’re not local. You need more friends, Gyro.”

“Maybe,” Gyro hummed softly, the closest he would ever come to admitting it. “But it’s even harder to get along with coworkers, and the chances of my subordinate being someone who actually wants to be friends with me is abysmal.”

Della shrugged. “Sometimes you learn to like each other. Like me ‘n Donnie! We drive each other crazy, but we have each other’s backs when it matters, and we’re always there for each other.”

Gyro snorted. “This hypothetical person and I will be coworkers, Dels, not siblings. That’s different. Besides, you and Donald love each other too much to be healthy.”

“Yeah, but Donnie and Uncle Scrooge and I are a little like coworkers, aren’t we? Adventuring is our job, and it’s very stressful at times,” Della said.

Gyro shook his head. “Dels, honestly, you have to get a job at some point. Mr. McDuck won’t let you leech off of him for much longer now, and you have no experience. It’s really not the same.”

Della shrugged. “At some point. I know Uncle Scrooge is biting at the bit, especially after Donnie joined the Navy, but I don’t want the responsibilities and schedules of work to tie me down and take me away from adventuring, you know? It’s the same reason I didn’t go off to college.”

“I still think you should have,” Gyro replied, smiling wryly. “You’re bright and you’d flourish being able to study what you choose.”

“I learn a lot adventuring,” Della replied smugly, stubborn as always. “I can speak seven languages fluently, you know!”

“Even if most of them are dead, or belong to otherworldly beings from alternate dimensions,” Gyro pointed out.

Della sighed contentedly and shook her head. “Whatever. What’s done is done, and I’ll get a job someday. But just think about it, Gyro, all right?” She locked gazes with Gyro pleadingly.

Gyro sighed in defeat. “Fine. I will give it some thought. But don’t get your hopes up, all right?”

Della smirked. “Whatever you say.”

Gyro put his head in his hands, roughly shoving aside his expensive coffee. (He was lucky it didn’t crash and burn, like most of his inventions.)

She’s not gonna win this one, Gyro aggressively promised himself. I can’t subject anyone else to my bullshit.

(The only reason he assented and allowed an intern on, in the future, was because Scrooge all but ordered it. He saw firsthand the way having positive people around improves lives and wanted that for Gyro too, especially with Della gone and Donald barely speaking to him. And if Mr. McDuck’s not-so-subtle hints and gentle persuasion-turned direct orders gave Gyro crystal-clear flashbacks to Della’s not-so-gentle prodding, and if he cried that night after his boss left, well, no one would be anyone the wiser.)

(He got quite lucky with Fenton and Manny, though. Some of that was the Board's thorough vetting process, but some of it was Scrooge himself intervening, because he wanted Gyro to make a friend as badly as Della had.)

--

August 15 I 7:26 pm

Della Duck: all right

Della Duck: I talked to Fenton again

Della Duck: i’m sorry for bothering you

Della Duck: it hurts to not talk to you but I’m gonna give you your space

Della Duck: I’m here whenever you’re ready

Della Duck: but please be ready soon Gyro i’m impatient

I know you are, Gyro nearly whispered as he read the texts. It felt like a finality, a surrender. But that couldn’t be right, because Della Duck never gave up.

How could he and his stupid, stupid inability to communicate his feelings and face his irrational fears be the one thing that forced Della Duck to admit defeat?

(read 7:58 pm)

--

The McDuck Annual Holiday Party was in full swing when Gyro arrived quietly. Launchpad had offered to drive him with Fenton, Manny, and Scrooge when they left a couple of hours ago, but Gyro had stayed to put the finishing touches on his current project, lest he lose his motivation.

That was the only reason. Not because Della would be there, and he might be forced to talk to her. No, sir.

Gyro clenched his fists so tight his knuckles turned white in the pockets of his vest. Who was he kidding? He wasn’t fooling himself, and he certainly wasn’t fooling his friends family coworkers. Every single one of them, even Mr. McDuck (now that was painful) had tossed him a look that ranged from disappointed to knowing to pitying as they left for the party. It made Gyro want to scream in rage and slam his fists against the wall until they were bruised and bloody. But even he knew that was unacceptable party behavior. (Mrs. Beakley had humiliatingly taken him aside for a quick rundown on which of his usual behaviors were not applicable at company parties.)

Steeling himself for a night of faux cheer and passive-aggressive conversations, Gyro quietly opened the door and slipped inside. Skirting on the outskirts of the party, he scanned the room desperately for allies to swarm to and enemies to avoid.

He spotted Fenton and Launchpad first, amicably chatting up the legendary Greek hero Storkules and his sister, the equally inexplicable and ethereal goddess Selene. (A mystery to unpack at a later date.) Beside them was the gruff Moonlander that Della seemed to love.

Gyro set his jaw. He could handle chatty immortals and aggressive aliens. At least they probably wouldn’t have a personal vendetta against him because of a malfunctioning invention or a poorly placed comment. He waded determinedly through the sluggish crowd, surprisingly stopped a couple times by friendly faces. (Boyd’s hug of greeting lasted almost three minutes, and that didn’t even account for the rest of the overzealously affectionate kids.)

Looking back, he’s lucky his the kids stalled him, because when he finally emerged from Webby’s hug, his eyes locked on his own personal horror story.

Della.

This was the first time Gyro had actually seen her since she’d come back from the moon. Her hair was longer, if only slightly, and her metal leg gleamed in the light from the chandeliers above. (His fingers itched to get his hands on it and upgrade it, toy with it, make it into a personal project, but he adamantly refused himself.)

Alongside the physical differences, Gyro noticed some changes to her demeanor as well. She seemed more… weathered, and tired, despite the ever-present spark of energy she seemed to radiate and her unwavering grin. It was cliché, and Dr. Gyro Gearloose hated clichés with a passion, but she had an almost haunted look in her eyes, contrasting her radiating cheery energy.

She was different, and he was different. So much time had passed. It seemed almost impossible that the duck in front of him was the same duck that Gyro had shared coffee and secrets with almost daily ten years ago.

And yet he yearned to return to their easy friendship. Not for the first time, Gyro wished desperately to go back in time a decade and stop the Spear of Selene from ever happening.

Della slipped between Penumbra and Selene, glowing in the way only an extrovert in social situations can. By way of greeting, she hugged everyone, even Fenton (!!!). She settled at last, hanging off Penumbra’s shoulder with Selene’s arm around her and Launchpad’s jacket around her shoulders (how she had acquired that, Gyro had no idea).

Unfortunately for Gyro, from her new position, she had a perfect view of him, stuck with only a single sparse group between them. Her eyes strayed to lock onto him and he froze, panic creeping in a mile a minute.For a moment neither moved, staring at each other.

She hadn’t texted him since August, true to her word, albeit how much it hurt for both of them. She had come to the lab a couple times, to pick up Fenton and/or Manny for coffee or to pick up or drop off Huey, Webby, or Boyd. But Gyro had always hid like the coward he was, terrified to face his best friend. The last time they’d talked was the day before Della took off in the Spear of Selene, ten years and eight months ago.

At last, after four months, and nine months of radio silence from his end, here she was, almost close enough to touch.

Then Gyro’s fight-or-flight instinct kicked in and he turned tail and ran, panic clouding his vision and his judgement. He shoved one of the Sabrewing husbands roughly aside (Scrooge would undoubtedly make him apologize for that later) in his frantic quest to escape all the raw emotions, of hurt and guilt and self-hatred, that sprung up all of a sudden.

His eyes locked on a door and he wrenched it open before slamming it shut. He leaned hard against the door, hands clenched around the handle, breathing hard.

Only once the panic began creeping away and his breathing slowed did Gyro finally process his surroundings. He was in a small broom closet, filled to the brim with glittery party supplies Mrs. Beakley had probably denied Webby. (She would probably find a way to sneak them into the party sometime later.)

And perched precariously on top of a box labeled “glitter fireworks” was a woman Gyro had met once, in the Old West, two hundred years ago.

Goldie O’Gilt sized him up, panicked and ruffled, and apparently decided he was no threat. She slid gracefully down from the boxes. “What brings you here, to the closet of forgotten and abandoned party supplies? Girl troubles?”

Gyro wanted to laugh, because technically, she was right. “I’m gay,” he replied, giving her his best deadpan stare. It was lacking.

She assessed him, trying hard not to smile, before bursting out laughing. Gyro barely resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. “People problems, whatever. Please. You can’t fool me, hun.”

Gyro crossed his arms testily. “Why are you here? Away with you.”

Goldie grinned smugly, pretending to examine her nails. “Oh, nothing special. Just some extra fun for Scroogey later. May or may not involve glitter fireworks. You?”

Gyro snorted, without any real humor behind it, and rolled his eyes. “Great. Well, I have better things to do than watch you drive Mr. McDuck up the wall. See ya.”

“This is about Scroogey’s rediscovered niece, isn’t it?” Goldie called after him, as if as an afterthought.

Gyro froze, his fingers curled around the doorknob. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t, really,” Goldie hummed, faking disinterest. “But spare an old woman some juicy gossip, would ya? ‘Sides, I’m a professional conwoman. I see all the angles, and yours is in plain sight.”

Gyro scowled and shifted so he could see Goldie’s face again. She was smirking, small but triumphant, which did nothing to quell Gyro’s steadily growing mix between annoyance and panic. “And I suppose this has nothing to do with ‘Aunt Goldie,’ would it?”

Goldie shrugged nonchalantly, but the smile on her beak shifted into a small pout of annoyance. “I’ll do you a favor and be honest with you. Cherish this moment; it won’t happen again.”

She sighed and leaned more heavily against the precariously stacked boxes. “I may have missed Della and her adventurous, rambunctious spirit over the years,” she confessed, suddenly looking a good deal more like the age-old tired adventurer she was. “It hurts to see that spirit quenched, especially when I just got her back. She hasn’t even frustratingly tagged along to one of Scroogey and I’s not-so-solo adventures! And… I care about her. She’s almost my niece.”

Gyro frowned, stunned at Goldie’s clarity. “...Oh.”

Goldie straightened up and whipped out a shiny knife from the folds of her dress. “But tell anyone, especially Della or Scrooge, and they’ll never know what happened to ya,” she warned, wagging the knife in the direction of Gyro’s face.

He pressed himself against the door while maintaining his scowl, despite the fact that it was too far away to hurt him. He knew what she could do if she put her mind to it. “I won’t.”

Goldie slipped the knife back into the folds of her dress, where it seemed to magically disappear from her hand. “Good. Now go get my niece’s spirit back,” she instructed strictly, shoving Gyro not-so-subtly towards the door.

He wrenched it open and slipped surreptitiously outside, glancing around the party. The crowds seemed to have thinned a little.

Gyro spotted Della easily. She, Donald, and Mrs. Beakley were gently corralling the gaggle of children upstairs - it was quite late, after all. Gyro started to step towards her, then hesitated.

He chickened out and sprinted unsteadily outside instead, taking in big mouthfuls of the refreshingly cold December air.

The chill set in after a few moments and he wrapped his arms around himself, shivering, and despairingly started the long trek away from the mansion.

His phone was buzzing with worried texts from his friends (and Della, no doubt), but Gyro set his jaw and walked on, stubbornly ignoring their annoyingly righteous concern. No use telling everyone he lost his nerve again, just like every time Della texted.

Gyro gritted his teeth and pulled the collar of his jacket over the lower half of his face as protection against the biting winds. The physical pain lessened, but the icy feeling in his gut did not. He balled his hands into fists, as if to physically punch his overwhelming guilt and regret away.

I’m a bad friend.

--

Early April was always a little tough for Gyro, with the anniversary of the destruction he inadvertently sowed in Tokyolk. It got better with time, but the early years were always a little rough.

(And after that he always had another grief-filled and regretful anniversary to observe in April, anyway.)

He was pushing through it, though, by throwing himself into his work. This year was especially easy. The Spear of Selene was almost done, and would probably be finished just before the eggs’ hatching.

The last time he talked to Della was when he was taking a quick, rare break the day before what would be the second-worst day of Gyro’s life. (Tokyolk took first, if only narrowly.) He had gone off on a quest in search of coffee - he was at the launch lot, and he’d unfortunately been banned from the closest coffee shop. (It was their fault anyway - what kind of coffee shop didn’t want an automatic coffee bean stocker? Even if it tried to stock customers when there were no beans left? Really, they shouldn’t have run out of beans. And his price of free coffee for life was so reasonable and small, really, when he usually frequented the one closer to the lab. Their loss.)

“Gyro!” Della sprinted up to him, face flushed from running in the chilly winds and early spring air. She held out a coffee from the aforementioned shop to him with a grin, prompting his frustrated rant, but Della just let him prattle on with a goofy grin gracing her face.

“What’s going on?” Gyro finally demanded, after watching Della beam ardently at his violent threats and calls for justice and revenge towards the coffee shop. “Your smile is… sillier than usual. Which is saying something.”

Della waved him off, his insult breezing past her. “It’s a surprise. You’ll see!!”

Gyro raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Is it a good surprise?”

Della beamed triumphantly back at him. “Definitely.”

Gyro frowned dubiously, but he knew Della well. For all her recklessness, when she was this sure about something, her judgement was usually worth listening to.

(Later, he’d wish he hadn’t listened to her, and trusted his own gut, for once.)

He shrugged. “I highly doubt it’s as good as you think it is,” he replied haughtily, prompting carefree laughter from Della.

“It definitely is. Just you wait.” She reached out with her free hand and booped him on the beak, causing him to reel back, away from her. “I can make an educated guess that you’ll love it.”

Gyro rolled his eyes at her rudimentary science terminology, causing her to giggle. “If it’s another movie night with Fethry, I’ll pass.”

“Better than that,” Della promised, her smug grin turning downright devious. It didn’t faze Gyro in the slightest.

He shrugged carelessly. “With you, that could either mean better or worse. Otherwise known as pure, unadulterated torture for me.”

Della laughed, but her smile softened into something more vulnerable and emotional, no longer masked by a carefree and reckless demeanor. “I’m telling you, Gyro. You’ll love it. Come on, when have I ever been wrong?’’

Gyro barked a laugh. “Do you really want me to answer that? Because I have a full comprehensive list at the top of my head, and that only covers the basics.”

“Hating black licorice doesn’t count,” Della protested. “It tastes worse than every iteration of Hell, and I’ve been to every iteration of Hell!”

Gyro raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Did you taste every iteration of Hell?”

Della rolled her eyes playfully. “Whatever. Just trust me on this one, will you?” she asked, hitting him with that almost vulnerable expression again.

Gyro huffed. “Fine.” He stuck a finger pompously in the air. “But I reserve the right to pass judgement when I see it.”

Della sighed without any real weight behind it. “Fine, whatever you want. But trust me, you’ll be blown away by the amazingness of this surprise!!!”

“We’ll see about that,” Gyro replied, smirking. “Now, away with you!! I have a highly important project to finish - which is unanimously more important than whatever surprise you have cooked up - and I simply cannot afford any distractions!!”

Della snorted knowingly. “Whatever. See you tomorrow at my amazing surprise! And you’re welcome for the coffee, Mr. Banned-From-Coffee-Shops!!”

Gyro shook his head fondly and made his way down the hill back to the lot. The Spear of Selene loomed in front of him, shining in the weak midday sun. It seemed frozen, waiting, on edge.

“Soon,” Gyro promised to no one in particular. He climbed inside to make some last-minute tweaks to the nuanced controls. “You’ll be in the air by May at the latest,” he promised, patting the cold metal of the rocketship. “Just let me make sure this is perfect. So nothing could ever go wrong.”

--

Jan 3, 2020 I 5:47 am

Donald Duck: hey asshole

Donald Duck: fyi Della’s really upset

Donald Duck: she really missed her friends ya know?

Donald Duck: Look, Gyro

Donald Duck: I know how this feels

Donald Duck: I know you’re scared

Donald Duck: but dude you face scarier stuff every day when your inventions go evil

Donald Duck: if you can face Lil’ Bulb turning evil not once but twice and still call him your son I think you can face your best friend

Donald Duck: and i know I said some shitty things to you the day we lost her and I’m sorry, that was uncalled for

Donald Duck: I was upset, as were you

Donald Duck: I forgive you if that’s not clear

Donald Duck: i forgave you a long time ago

Donald Duck: Della has too

Donald Duck: she never blamed you

Donald Duck: except maybe for the flavor of Oxy-Chew. But that saved her life, Gyro!

Donald Duck: I know I said your invention killed her, but your invention also saved her, and after she fixed it your invention brought her home

Donald Duck: now she’s back, but you’re losing her again

--

Gyro stumbling blearily awake, fumbling for his glasses, tired and disoriented, was nothing outside of the norm. He was a secluded, inane inventor with few friends, little social interaction, and no sleep schedule. Not to mention the plethora of projects piled on his desk vying for his attention, and the ever-present mug of coffee in his hand. (At the moment, there was a half-empty one on his desk, placed precariously on top of some blueprints.)

But his latest cup of coffee’s predicament was the least of Gyro’s worries at the moment. Because his phone, charging on his bedside, was blowing up. And that was decidedly not normal.

Gyro, at this point in time, didn’t have social media yet. (Fenton, Louie, and Dewey didn’t exist in his life yet, and so they had not had a chance to plot and execute an intervention.) Sometimes his phone blew up from the group chat with Daisy and Dickie, or the group chat with Della, Daisy, and Dickie, or just Della when she got excited. Or Fethry, once in a while, but Gyro was certain he’d blocked Fethry’s number this time.

Gyro clumsily put on his glasses and pulled himself up into a sitting position, still half-asleep. He scrolled through his notifications, frowning.

Mostly missed calls from Donald and Scrooge, a couple confused text notifications from Gladstone, two missed calls from the Board (that couldn’t be good), and one from Roxanne Featherly, a trainee journalist under Angus Fangus who had taken an unfortunate liking to calling him whenever one of his inventions went haywire.

Panic began to stir in Gyro’s gut.

The weirdest part, though, was that most of the notifications had not come from Della. She was by far his most ardent caller, and she had called, a couple times, but they were all over an hour ago. They were all buried by the rest of his missed calls.

Odd. Very odd.

Gyro tried calling Della first, to soften the blow of whatever was happening. Della wouldn’t sugarcoat the problem. She knew better. But there was something about her contagious enthusiasm and optimism, as well as her face-it-head-on attitude, that made whatever issue was at hand seem less daunting.

But his call went to voicemail.

Gyro shook his head, confused and more than a little scared at this point. Della almost never refused his calls, even if she was on an adventure (as long as she had cell service). It annoyed Donald to no avail, but Gyro was grateful for it - he didn’t reach out for social interaction with no reason.

But now? It only scared Gyro.

He frowned, contemplating, and called Donald next. Scrooge was more likely to call unprompted than Donald, and he didn’t want to deal with the Buzzards or Featherly yet, so Donald it was.

He picked up on the third ring.“Oh, so now he picks up!! When he can’t be of any help!! What’s the big idea, Doctor?!”

Gyro scowled, annoyance beginning to mix with the terror in his gut. “For your information, I just woke up. Now, what is going on?! Della won’t answer my calls and I have an ungodly amount of notifications at three AM. Seriously, people.”

“You want to know what is going on?!” Donald screamed, his voice and temper steadily rising. Gyro flinched at the volume, but kept the phone pressed close to his ear out of half morbid curiosity and half unwanted worry. “I’ll tell you what’s going on!!! Scrooge just killed Della!! And he used your stupid, untrustworthy invention to do it!!!”

Gyro nearly dropped the phone.“...Killed?” he nearly whispered. “How? The Spear of Selene isn’t ready yet and-”

“She took it!!” Donald screeched. “She took that good-for-nothing rocket and flew straight into a cosmic storm!”

“She wasn’t supposed to!” Gyro spluttered, numb. “She wasn’t even supposed to know about it yet!”

“Well, she did!” Donald spat darkly. “And now she’s gone. She left her boys orphaned. What were you thinking, making her that rocket?!”

“It was Mr. McDuck’s idea,” Gyro whispered numbly, automatically. “He- I- We never thought-”

“Scrooge,” Donald growled, and if Gyro knew him well enough he was dragging a frustrated hand down his face. “Of course. He’s too reckless and careless. He killed my sister.”

Gyro rubbed at his eyes under his glasses, unable to think of a coherent response. “I- I don’t think-”

“That’s right, you don’t think,” Donald snarled. “None of you do. And now my sister is dead, thanks to Scrooge. And you. Lose my number, Gyro. You won’t see me again.”

Click.

Gyro stared numbly at the floor, his phone still pressed against his ear, as the dial tone played. Finally, he slowly lowered it to his side and dropped it on the bed next to him before taking off his glasses and dropping his head into his hands.

Then, finally, he cried.

Della Duck. Dead. His best friend. Dead.

It was impossible, improbable. Della Duck was a famed adventurer barely two decades old. She breathed life. She had faced perils and terrors far worse than a cosmic storm, sustained injuries far worse, and bounced back.

Dead.

Because of Gyro’s invention. Maybe if he had worked a little harder, been a little more meticulous, he could have saved her.

He had failed again, gambled and lost with precious lives again, caused death and destruction again. It was Tokyolk all over again, and this time, the lost stakes were even more personal.

Gyro grabbed his phone suddenly, shakingly off the bed and pulled up Della’s contact. Her face beamed back at him, so full of life it seemed to burst from the tiny circle on his cracked phone screen.

He called her again, listening to it ring with baited breath even though he already knew the outcome.

“Hey, this is Della Duck, adventurer extraordinaire! I’m probably trekking through the Amazon or fighting a demon monarch in another dimension right now. Catch ya later!”

Gyro hung up before she could finish her last syllable and sobbed.

--

February 28 I 2:26 pm

Della Duck: fyi I’m picking Huey up today instead of Launchpad since he has a sleepover with his friend Jason today

Della Duck: you know

Della Duck: in case you wanna hide from me again

Della Duck: btw do you care if I snag that magnifying glass that shrinks people in like a month? We’re gonna go to Miniapolis soon

Della Duck: i mean i’m gonna take it anyway but figured you might want a heads up

March 14 I 5:18 pm

Gyro Gearloose: go ahead

Della Duck: GYRO!!!!

Della Duck: oh sorry

Della Duck: look I’m really excited but I also don’t wanna come on too strong

Gyro Gearloose: you’re fine

Della Duck: :D

Gyro Gearloose: it’s my fault I was being a coward

Gyro Gearloose: i couldn’t face my emotions and that was shitty of me

Della Duck: Gyro i took off in a rocket at midnight without telling anyone and left my kids without a mother for a decade

Della Duck: i win for stupid shitty actions here

Gyro Gearloose: it’s not a contest

Gyro Gearloose: we’re both shitty and stupid let’s leave it at that

Della Duck: yeah ur right

Gyro Gearloose: but dels

Gyro Gearloose: I’m sorry

Gyro Gearloose: it’s been almost a year and i fucking ignored you

Gyro Gearloose: i had the chance to get you back and i didn’t take it

Della Duck: hey

Della Duck: it’s okay

Della Duck: i know this is all a lot

Della Duck: i’m here now and that’s what matters

Gyro Gearloose: della i’m so glad

Della Duck: hey Huey is coming to the lab today

Della Duck: what if I come to pick him up and then you and I go out and catch up?

Della Duck: get expensive coffee on Uncle Scrooge’s dime just like old times?

Gyro Gearloose: fuck yeah

Gyro Gearloose: I’ve missed our expensive shitty coffee and gossip

Gyro Gearloose: I have SO much shit to talk about Dr. Akita

Gyro Gearloose: god

Gyro Gearloose: I hate him now

Della Duck: oh man

Della Duck: Huey told me a bit about Tokyolk but I want to hear all about it for you

Della Duck: and Boyd!!! Omg I can’t believe you’re a father

Della Duck: he’s so sweet

Gyro Gearloose: I don’t know if I’d call myself a father he has the Drakes

Della Duck: but you want to be don’t you?

Gyro Gearloose: ...yeah

Gyro Gearloose: but i’d be a shitty parent you know that

Della Duck: actually I don’t think so

Della Duck: i’m a shitty parent and I’m doing fine

Gyro Gearloose: what a surprise

Della Duck: wow thanks for the vote of confidence

Della Duck: but Beakley Donald and Scrooge are helping me

Della Duck: we’ll help you

Della Duck: join the shitty parents club!!

Gyro Gearloose: haha all right

Della Duck: also

Della Duck: i want to hear all about fenton

Gyro Gearloose: then I want to hear all about Penumbra

Gyro Gearloose: you’re not the only one who can play the love interest card

Della Duck: joke’s on you I WANT to talk about penny

Della Duck: anyway i’m leaving now

Della Duck: see you soon!!

Gyro Gearloose: i can’t wait to see you and your ugly 10-year-old clothes

Gyro Gearloose: seriously you’re wearing almost the exact same outfit

Della Duck:  uh HELLO you have no right to shit on the way I dress look at yourself

Della Duck: you dress like a very old gay man

Della Duck: i mean that vest?? really?

Gyro Gearloose: at least i’m not old

Della Duck: touché

Della Duck: LP is driving so i’m almost there see you in a sec

Della Duck: and i’ll probably grab that magnifying glass now

Gyro Gearloose: that’s fine

Gyro Gearloose: i missed you

Della Duck: aw you old sap

Della Duck: never thought i’d hear you say anything like that tbh you’ve gone soft

Gyro Gearloose: I realized recently that my greatest mistakes were not as black-and-white as they seemed

Gyro Gearloose: and if Boyd can forgive me for unknowingly letting Akita turn him into a weapon of mass destruction and for me ignoring him for years and belittling him throughout this trip

Gyro Gearloose: and if I can face both brainwashed 2BO and Akita and win with the “power of love” or whatever than maybe I can talk to you

Della Duck: damn

Della Duck: I have SO many questions about Tokyolk

Della Duck: but i can hold onto them for a minute

The lab doors dinged open, but Della was sprinting out of them before they were fully open. The rest of Team Science watched warily as Della rushed towards Gyro, beaming and laughing, joy seeming to spill out of her. They expected him to hide, or push her away. but to their happy surprise, Gyro met her halfway and wrapped her in a hug.

Or, Della nearly crashed into him and squeezed him so tight he couldn’t breathe, prompting some annoyance, but it was crushed under the sheer joy and emotions of seeing his estranged best friend after eleven years.

Gyro laughed shakily, holding back tears, until he realized Della was crying too. She got snot on his work shirt, but he didn’t care.

They held each other for quite a while, until Della finally pulled back, wiped her eyes, and socked Gyro in the shoulder. “Don’t ever leave me hanging like that again, you hear?! I will hunt you down! I’ll give you your space but I’ll hunt you down! I won’t let this happen again!”

Gyro smiled and wiped away his own tears. “Yes, ma’am. Now, coffee?”

Della beamed. “The expensive kind. You got it.”

“It’s about time,” Manny tapped grumpily in the background, with Huey, Fenton, and Lil’ Bulb adding their agreement, but Della and Gyro ignored them as they flounced out of the lab.They had eleven years of friendship and gossip to catch up on, after all.

{it’s not too late, it was

never too late}

~

woohoo this is a wild ride! i didn’t intend for it to be this long but it just got away from me. Della and Gyro having a friendship, especially before the spear of selene, is one of my favorite headcanons. I think Della would basically grab Gyro and force him to be friends with her and to hang out with her haha.

I have a hard time writing Gyro as mean as he is in canon because I’m a sensitive sweet bean who isn’t creative or socially adept enough to come up with good insults (yet, hopefully). but i’m getting better! i hope this read as somewhat in character. same with Goldie, i’ve been trying to figure out how to write her for two years now sdfghgfds. I think I got Della’s character somewhat down though!

soft Gyro is more of an interpretation (albeit supported by canon) than canon fact but I LOVE it and i’m writing four (counting this) fics based off of it so get ready for that

the title and song lyrics are from People Need a Melody by The Head and the Heart. That song is really special to me because it was my closing song for camp last year (we would sing a song special for each unit each night before bed). I didn’t plan to use this song from the start (the working title was “DR. GYRO GEARLOOSE GET OFF UR ASS AND ANSWER UR PHONE -Della”) - I was listening to it one night, nostalgic for camp, while writing this fic and I realized the lyrics fit!

(also I was on a call for colorguard while I was writing this author’s note and my instructor said “I hear a lot of typing” lol)

[julemmaes]

Alone together // part three

Matthew Fairchild and Lucie Herondale modern au

Okay I’m so so so so so sorry this is so late (and it sucks so I really don’t have any excuses) but I’ve been so caught up with my new gang (you don’t really wanna know about that) that I didn’t have time to do nothing.

I’m obviously blaming them cause it’s easier but reality is another one and it’s just that I’m a very shitty writer.

I wanna dedicate this part to one of my favourite human being. This is for you my love @taco-taco-belle, I hope you like it at least a little bit cause you’re literally the only reason I could do this:)

Words count: 4,535

"You gotta be shitting me." The guy took a break, laughing sarcastically and rubbing his hand to his face desperately. "You’re fucking with me." he whispered.

Lucie and Christopher, who were still arm in arm, exchanged a worried look before returning their attention to the empty shelf. The price tag as clear as the sun said Pot Noodles Original, but there wasn’t a single package in sight. It was as if suddenly everyone in London had decided to go to their trusted store and raided it.

Matthew seemed to be on the brink of a crisis.

Lucie was about to touch his arm, to get him away from what seemed to be his worst nightmare, but Christopher’s phone vibrated against her side. The boy didn’t seem to notice, and Lucie gave him a little nudge, "You got a message." Matthew turned to his friends, "If Jamie wants the noodles for Cordelia, tell him he can go fuck himself." Lucie chuckled and shook her head, thinking that if there was only one box and the message was really James’s, he would bring it to him running.

But Christopher’s expression was not amused at all, Lucie noticed, while reading the message. He paled, holding the phone tighter between his fingers, turning off the screen.

"Kit?" Matthew asked with a confused look, taking a step towards them to peek at who had texted him, but Christopher clutched his phone to his chest, looking lost. He blinked several times, trying to understand. Lucie and Matthew could almost feel the gears of his brain working, "It’s Grace, she..." he took a step back and the girl who was tied to his arm was forced to leave him. " I have to go, guys, I have to-" he interrupted, turning to Matthew, "I’m sorry Math, I can’t stay. I would stay if I could, you know, but I have to... I’ve got to go."

Matthew looked at Lucie worried, before shaking his head, "No, you don’t have to apologize. We’ll see you tomorrow." As soon as the words came out of the blond’s mouth, Christopher shot to the exit. Lucie remained motionless for a second before starting to chase after him, Matthew right behind her.

"Kit!" she screamed, trying to stop him, "What happened?"

They walked out of the store, waving at the owner, and Christopher stopped in the middle of the street, starting to walk backwards towards his car, "Something happened with Tatiana."

Lucie held her breath and heard Matthew whispering a soft shit.

Everyone knew Grace well.

When James had met her many years before he had managed to keep their friendship a secret for a few months, but his sister and his best friend had begun to notice strange behavior and they had asked him questions over questions until he gave in and told them everything. Grace’s parents had died when she was little and Tatiana, who had risked losing her son Jesse shortly before, had not thought twice about taking her under her wing, but things had become ugly in a very short time. She locked Grace in the house with her brother.

Tatiana had lost her father and her husband during a shooting in the centre and from that moment on, she had gone mad, locking herself in her small house in the countryside, far from everything and everyone, "far from the dangers of the city", she always told her brothers. She had closed herself up so much that Uncle Gabriel and Uncle Gideon had found out that she was pregnant only during the sixth month, when Tatiana was no longer able to hide it, avoiding to meet them inventing excuses not to let them visit.

"Do you need us to come along?" Matthew asked again as he began to walk with a quick pace towards Christopher, who shook his head "No, I have to go alone. I’ll call you if I need a hand." And then he turned around, got in the car and drove away.

Lucie took a deep breath, thinking about how hard this must have been for Grace, and how much Christopher already cared for the girl, to go help her in the middle of the night.

Damn, she should’ve gotten him to tell her what happened on their dates on the way to the market. Although with the distance between the house and the store she would surely be able to ask only the details of the first date, at least she would have done some gossip.

She was still tormenting her hands, thinking about her cousin, when Matthew put the scarf around her neck, placing it in her jacket, "Are you okay?" Lucie first looked at the scarf and then Matthew, with a raised eyebrow. He shrugged, "You were shaking, I’m fine even without it."

Lucie smiled at him and felt her stomach twist again as her cheeks turned red. She gritted her teeth, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

It had been a few weeks since she first realized that being around Matthew didn’t make her feel like it did before. That every night, when they met at the bar and their hands even just brushed, she needed a few seconds to recover from their contact. That every smile he gave her was like a fist to the chest pushing all the air out of her lungs.

There had been one episode in particular, that Lucie had decided not to tell anyone, in which he had passed behind her, laying his hands on her hips not to make her trip and she had dropped the two drinks she had just prepared, too shocked by the reaction of her body, which felt like electricity had just passed through her. Matthew had immediately moved her from the broken glass by lifting her up into the air and placing her behind him and then started to clean in her place, without saying a word. For that thing she got a very shitty lecture and had to apologize several times to Catarina, the owner of the bar.

"Are you listening to me, Lu?"

Lucie withdrew from her thoughts, nodding absentmindedly, "Sorry." she said shrugging, "It’s just that we’re all so exhausted from work and these-" she shook her hands midair, as if to indicate everything that was going on in their lives lately, "These things and we meet every night, that’s true, but I see how everyone would prefere to stay home and sleep."

"I don’t think they feel forced." Matthew answered with an arched eyebrow as he was shaken by a shiver. Lucie frowned, starting to undo her scarf, but a warm hand landed on hers and her brain shorted out again. "No, you keep it, I’m not cold." he smiled, moving a blonde strand that had fallen on his eyes. "If you start feeling too cold though, you tell me, I can survive a night without feeling warm."

"True, but you shouldn’t." He gave her a light thrust with his arm, winking at her.

Lucie flared up, focusing on not stepping on the pavement lines. "Anyway," she resumed, returning to the initial topic, "I’m not saying that they feel forced, I just think maybe we need a few days to relax." she scratched her forehead, squeezing her eyes for the light coming from inside the nearby Mc Donald’s. She saw Matthew nodding slightly.

He kept his eyes fixed on her, she could feel it. She felt it from the way every fiber of her being was yelling at her to move from his visual range or she would explode at any moment. She was going to talk, to ask him if he had done anything interesting last weekend (although she knew very well that he had stayed home to read the last drafts she had sent him) but she felt his hand slipping into hers and nearly choked on her own saliva. She looked from the ground to their hands and then, with a force she did not know he had, she looked at him.

Matthew’s green eyes were glimmering with an emotion that Lucie had only seen him turn to the people he had a relationship with. It was the same look Jesse had given her many times.

Matthew’s lips were bent up in a sincere smile, not into the one he reserved for the bar’s customers, but she noticed how they were twitching nervously and waiting for her reaction.

She gripped her fingers around Matthew’s hand and saw how his shoulders relaxed at that contact.

"I know a, uhm..." Lucie coughed, trying to clear her voice that had come out too low to be audible, and heard Matthew chuckled next to her, "I know a place where they make noodles 24/7. It takes a while to get there because it’s downtown, but it’s really nice."

"Lucie, if you’re kidding me right now, I swear I’m not talking to you anymore." Matthew had stopped, forcing her to stand in front of him, but the grip on her hand had become firmer and now their arms were a bridge between their bodies as they looked into each other’s eyes.

Lucie put her hand on her heart trying to hold back the laughs that threatened to come out seeing her friend’s face.

Matthew seemed to have seen the most beautiful thing in the world, his eyes glowed even more than before, and Lucie would have sworn to have seen a little drool dripping from his mouth before his tongue licked on his lower lip.

Lucie’s eyes darted away, "I swear on our friendship," Matthew made a coughing grin, taking a fist to cover his mouth, "that I am not lying to you and that the place is called Dear Lord, Ramen." a giggle escaped her control.

"Now I know for a fact that you’re fucking with me because there’s no way I don’t know about a place called like that." Matthew started walking again, this time closer to Lucie than he had ever been. So close that their shoes touched every step they took.

"Did I swear on our friendship or not?" she asked spying on his reaction with the corner of her eye.

She saw him nodding as if lost in thought and then they were silent for a while, while Lucie took them across the bridge to Potters Fields Park.

She began to feel her shoulders stiffen, perhaps she should not have specified that theirs was a friendship twice in a row, while they were holding hands at three o'clock in the middle of town when everyone else had left or stayed home because their other half was too tired to stay. God, now that Lucie was thinking about it, they were all alone because everyone else was holed up in their homes like old couples. Maybe Matthew was right, maybe they were all old dudes.

She cast a worried look in his direction trying to understand if her words had bothered him, but on Matthew’s face there was carelessness and what Lucie could only define as pure happiness. She relaxed again, detaching her hand from Matthew’s and before the boy could miss her presence, she put an arm around his and put their hands back together. He smiled at her, tilting his head to the side and leaving a kiss to her hair.

If someone had told her a few minutes before that the nigt would end with her and Matthew walking the cold streets of London, she would have never believed it.

They had just passed Christopher’s favorite cupcake shop, when Matthew interrupted that comfortable silence they had created, "Do you want to hear some bad noodle jokes?"

Lucie opened her eyes, smiling, "Of course I want to hear them."

Matthew cleared his throat, standing still, ready to recite the ugliest lines Lucie would ever hear in her whole life, she was sure, "Okay, then. What do you call a fake noodle?"

Lucie twisted her mouth thinking of an answer, "A needle?"

Matthew pulled back slightly, confusion in his eyes. "What? No-What?"

"I don’t know, I said the first thing I could think of." Lucie retorted.

"An impasta."

"Not funny, try harder."

"Rough crowd, I see." she scoffed, but he smiled widely, "My housemate told me he went to the noodle bar and got food poisoning..." he made a short break, to create suspance, "I was like ‘Why would you even order that? '"

Lucie sniffed a laugh through the nose, but nothing more. She turned to him, with an expression that said ‘can’t do anything better?'. Matthew then started making jokes over jokes, and even though Lucie seemed amused, nothing was really making her laugh. At least, that’s what she wanted the boy to believe. She was having the time of her life, and the fact that they were still holding hands was just a plus.

"Okay, since the good-guy jokes don’t seem to make you react, I’m gonna start with things a little bit… stronger."

Lucie tensed. The flirtatious behavior was a feature of Matthew’s. He always had it, and it was one of Lucie’s favorite things on the face of the earth, but in that moment, if he had made a sexual joke, she would probably have died on the spot. "Oh shut up. They were all beautiful and I’m dying of laughter." the fake laugh s made was one of the ugliest laughs either of them had ever heard, and that led to real laughter. Lucie hoped to have distracted Matthew from the idea of saying dirty things, but it didn’t seem to have worked when he stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, turning slightly towards her and placing her hair behind her ear.

He got menacingly closer and when his lips touched her skin, a shiver ran down her back, paralyzing her. She felt the hairs of her arms standing up and her cheeks reddening, when Matthew came even closer, crushing her against his chest, "What do girls and noodles have in common?"

Lucie closed her eyes, trying not to think about the closeness of their bodies or the fact that Matthew was talking noodles to her, which if she focused too much on would have ruined what had just been created there. If it wasn’t for every point where their bodies were catching on fire, she would probably have laughed out loud, but as she was struggling to catch her breath, laughing was something completely foreign in that moment. All she could come up with was a feeble, "I don’t know."

She felt as Matthew’s lips bent upwards against her ear, "They both wiggle when you eat them." His voice became more hoarse than she had ever heard and had to hold back the sound of awe that went up her throat. Her eyes fluttered open.

She was about to turn to him and Matthew’s lips brushed her cheek. And she knew that if she moved half an inch she could finally kiss him. She moved in his arms and he made her back away a few steps until her body fully adhered to the wall of the bulding. He put his hand on her cheek, pushed her face up towards him.

They were looking each other in the eye and Lucie had described that color so many times on the pages of her notebooks that this could only be a dream. She had tried to capture that spark that made them so alive with dozens of words, but nothing had ever done justice to that green that she loved so much.

"Matthew."

Their lips grazed and then the ringing of a phone cut through the silence. The boy jumped backwards making an exasperated noise. Lucie tilted her head back and slammed it against the wall, closing her eyes, annoyed, while Matthew answered the call.

Obviously their first kiss would not have been in that moment.

Obviously something had to go wrong and ruin everything.

"Anna?" He asked him with a confused look, as he approached Lucie again, placing his hand on her face gently and fixing her scarf, as if it were something he did every day. Both of them opened wide tehir eyes when the girl shrieked through the phone, "Where the hell is Christopher?"

"He had to go to Grace’s place. Why?"

Lucie pulled away from the wall, telling Matthew to put the phone next to her so she could hear better. A very bad feeling was forming at the mouth of her stomach.

"Because he just texted me, ‘If mom and dad ask you, I’m sleeping at your place, don’t worry.’” she said in a slightly calmer voice, but always worried, "As if writing such a thing at three o'clock at night was normal." Anna snorted. Lucie pictured her passing her hand in the hair. "I’m out with Ari, but if he needs anything, we’ll get to him immediately."

"Nono, don’t worry about it." Lucie immediately said, taking the phone from Matthew’s hand. She knew how little free time the two girls had since Ari started working full-time, and that was the first night that the two of them could go out without having to worry about setting up too much. "He asked us to stay out of it this time and in case he needs help, Math and I will go."

"Oh hello Luce." Anna’s voice seemed more than pleased to find out that her cousin was with Matthew at that time and when the girl turned a questioning look to the boy, he scratched his head embarrassed while shrugging. "All right, by the way."

"Don’t worry, Kit is distracted, we all know that, but he seemed more lucid than I’ve ever seen him in my entire life. Nothing will happen." Lucie reassured her, while Matthew shook his head agreeing with her.

"If you say so." Anna sighed, "What are you doing anyway? Are you always with the others?"

Lucie started coughing thinking about what they were going to do a few seconds before they were interrupted and Matthew took the phone, hitting his hand on her back. Lucie couldn’t hear what Anna was saying.

"No, we’re going to eat."

"Yeah at three, yes."

"I don’t know where it is."

"Why do you want to come? Isn’t it your date night?"

"Wait, I’m asking Lucie."

"It’s at the cross between Lafone St and Gainsford St." she said in a raspy voice before he could ask her anything. Matthew raised an eyebrow, raising a thumb up as a sign of question. Are you all right? Lucie nodded, coughing one last time. She had to start reacting better to the image of the boy’s lips on hers, or she’d die soon.

"Alright, meet us there in about 20 minutes."

"No, we won’t be late."

"Anna."

Matthew’s tone became a warning and Lucie immediately realized that her cousin was teasing him. Anna wasn’t stupid, and if there was one person that Math told his feelings for her about, it had to be Anna. Lucie grimaced at him and then heard laughter on the other side of the line.

"See you later and say hello to Ari." Matthew hang up and sighed deeply, staring at the phone with amused eyes for a moment. He put it back in his pocket and gave Lucie a shy smile. He offered her arm and they started walking again as if nothing had happened.

But something had happened. And she couldn’t stop thinking about the feeling of her lips so close to Matthew’s. And their breaths sharing the same air, or the name of the boy who came out like a prayer from her mouth.

They were now five minutes from the park when Matthew pulled away from her and clenched his fists, making Lucie’s eyebrows arch. She was gonna ask him if anything was wrong, if he’d rather go home or something, but he stopped for the third time and Lucie found herself thinking that they would never make it to the restaurant in time if he was about to push her against the nearest wall and started kissing her again and Anna would be right.

Probably if he kissed her right then, they’d never go to eat, and her house was just a few blocks away anyway.

But when Matthew turned, his face slightly pale, Lucie knew that there would be no new kisses. At least not that night. Because the expression on the boy’s face promised only broken dreams and hearts. She took a few steps back, embracing herself and trying not to look Matthew directly in the eye.

She knew she had hoped too much. She knew that night would be the only night she could pretend to be truly loved by someone. She knew Matthew would never consider her except as a friend. She’d already been in that situation, and if she could talk before the other one, maybe she could save herself the apology that someone had to make after an unwanted kiss.

"Lu I-" he whispered, turning a blind eye and rubbing his forehead, "shit."

"You don’t have to say it. I’ve already figured it out for myself." she said much more feebly than intended. "You’re lonely, I understand. It’s hard for me too to be in a group where everyone gets together and shows love to each other every five seconds." She smiled at him with watery eyes, always without meeting his eyes. She was fiddling with her fingernails, biting her lower lip. Don’t cry, don’t cry.

"Tonight was just a mistake, I get it. Really. But please don’t apologize." she replied with her eyes downcast. She didn’t want to hear it. If she said that, it would have hurt less, it would have been easier.

"What are you talking about?" Matthew asked, interrupting her train of thoughts.

Lucie felt brave enough to look up and Matthew had his eyes slightly opened, him mouth gaping, as if he didn’t understand why she was telling him all those things. "You mean… Are you saying that-" Matthew stuttered, taking a step towards her, putting his hands in his pocket, "Do you really think it was a mistake?"

Lucie swallowed visibly. She had never lied to Matthew. And she would not start now, even at the cost of making a fool of herself. She shook her head no lowering it again, but the surprised sigh that seemed almost a laugh from her friend made her raise an eyebrow.

"Oh Jesus, Lucie. How can you think those things," he sounded so happy, "after I almost kissed you against a wall and after we held hands for an hour?" he laughed. “I don’t go around holding hands with strangers, you know? I usually keep it for the special ones.”

Lucie felt a rush through her body, "You’re the one who started acting weird by letting go of my hand." she replied slightly raising her voice so that she could hear her.

Matthew laughed, "Yes, because I’m trying to tell you that I like you and I’m nervous, Lu."

Lucie’s head snapped up, and she finally looked Matthew right in the eye. His cheeks were red and he was torturing the edge of his jacket. Well, it was obvious he was nervous.

But she didn’t care that he wasn’t relaxed. She was more interested in the fact that the guy who had driven her crazy the last few months just told her he liked her.

"I thought," she shallowed again, "I thought you were gonna tell me it can’t work. I’ve been there, Math." Lucie noticed how he gritted his teeth before he spoke.

"Yes, I know. And it also seemed to me that we had already talked about the fact that the only one who lost something was him."

"I don’t want to talk about Jesse now." she murmured, approaching him.

He made a sly smile, "No, definitely." he placed a hand on her cheek and she leaned on that long-awaited touch.

"But I’d like to hear more on the subject ‘I like you’, you know?" she drawled positioning herself so that her chest was pushed against his body. She stretched her neck and laid a soft kiss to his jawline.

Matthew brought both his hands to her hips, "Oh yeah?" he kissed one cheek and then the other, blowing on her nose, before leaning his forehead against hers. "I like you, Lucie. I had for a long time."

She smiled calmly, starting to feel her eyes pinching.

"And I never did anything to make you understand that," he continued, "and I’m sorry I wasted all this time. But I’m not going to let you go now, if that’s what you want." he said in a soothing tone. His eyes still glimmering with that emotion so strong, so fierce, that lit up his whole face.

"Don’t let me go." she said with graceful simplicity.

Matthew stretched out to her and finally their lips touched, melting in that kiss.

They had waited so long, both unaware of each other’s feelings, yet their hands knew exactly where to rest and their lips and tongues how to dance.

Lucie had had the opportunity to kiss some boy, but she had never felt so alive. She had never felt her heart overflowing with joy.

And the boy before her, who was now breathing her as if his life depended on it, who had protected and reassured her when she needed it the most, whom she had considered as a brother for much of her life, but that was the furthest thing from a brother he could represent.

Lucie almost broke off screaming when Matthew’s phone rang again.

"Anna, fuck you, I just did it." he said, answering exasperated, passing a hand through his hair. Lucie burst into laughter when a chorus of joy from the two girls exploded on the other side of the phone. He saw Matthew looking at her with a satisfied smile. "We’re coming, but please don’t call again."

The boy didn’t even give her cousin the time to say  goodbye that he was on her again. Hands stuck in her hair and eyes closed as he kissed her desperately.

They just stood there and basked in that new sensation for a few more minutes and only when Lucie was fully satisfied and her lips were given the right attention they broke off. They burst out laughing, hugging again and holding on to each other.

"Let’s go eat noodles, Math." she said, taking him by the hand and pulling him towards the restaurant. "You deserve it."

But he stood still and looked at her, smiling too broadly. "What?" she asked, smiling faintly. He shook his head and began to walk beside her, "Nothing. It’s just the best night of my life." She nodded and gave him a stealthy kiss on the cheek.

"Well, at least now we can be alone together, right?" she asked.

Matthew chuckled, "You will never be alone again, Lu. I promise." He gave her a quick kiss on the lips, and then he started running, leaving her behind, while he screamed that if she didn’t hurry, they would surely run out of noodles and he would never be able to eat anything.

Lucie burst into laughter, started running after him.

Yeah, that was definitely the best night of her life.

MY HEART

taglist

@tyherondaletrash @clara-sm @cordelia-carstairs-owns-me @tessaherongraystairs @idontgetit-whydoihavetosaymyname @jamescordelias @grxceblqckthxrn @thecerridwen @stitch-kiss @alastairlightwxod @ahiretsinging @allofmywonders @tremendousheadachecollector @tlh-tea @taco-taco-belle @city-of-fae @ifeelfreewithoutmyshoes

[neshabeingchildish]

League of Extraordinary Geniuses || Chapter 5

Mika, as developed in Mika Provides will be a background character, after all, I’ve decided. Check that out for a refresher or a first time read, if you wanna. It’ll highlight why she’s here, because I don’t know that I’ll be mentioning that much in this story. @kiddangers @sevenseashigh @junknstu1f @just-a-j-reallly @famousflowermagazine @verified-dumbass I am once again asking that you let me know if I’m not supposed to tag you to this. 

Android Paranoid

The first few days were quiet as they monitored the obvious confusion of androids processing things without the innate obligation to remain dutiful to their owners. Chase was working on his video game. Max was working on processing twin powers into bionic chips. Charlotte was looking over the plans for a test of intelligence unaffected by standardized privilege. This was one of the hardest things she had ever done, because she knew that even her ability and history with receiving and interpreting information had been highly influenced by social convention. Androids were better at this, but they too were built by humans who were fallible. She was mumbling under her breath when she heard Chase say, "Just make billions of tests"

"That's impractical…" she said, over her shoulder, thought a moment, then asked, "Have you got the time?"

"I'll make the time," he said, smiling brightly at her. She winked and he blushed. Max… noticed, but he felt like he and Chase had definitely had enough budding of heads already and decided to just catalog it away and keep his eye on that guy. The truth was that Max was not a very patient person. Biding his time and waiting his turn were things that felt both uncomfortable and boring to do, therefore, if he couldn’t figure out ways to get to someplace quick, the goal lost its appeal and he moved on to other goals… This had NOT been the case with Charlotte. 

Oh, he wanted it to be. He wanted to move forward, forget his emotions and never intended to pine, at all… But. He just couldn’t. Maybe she would never want to be with him, but that didn’t stop him from having to make sure that she was as happy and safe as he could from inside of her life. It didn’t stop him from falling or being in love with her and he was pretty sure that nothing would, whether or not it ever became a discussion again. He was forever wounded from the time whenever it DID become a conversation, and he sort of wished that he had handled it better at the time. He also wished that she had known better, too. He would never admit it, but a part of him had been waiting for her to come to her senses… waiting for her to see that he could be what they previously agreed that he wouldn’t be able to.

Chase threw him a glare and asked, “WHAT? What are you staring at?”

Max only realized just then that Chase had been within his line of vision while he was thinking. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not THAT good looking. I was in my own head.”

“THAT good looking?” Charlotte repeated with a smile. Max narrowed his eyes at her, but he was smirking, so she knew he wasn’t mad. Chase, on the other hand seemed quite flustered as he stammered over words and said that he was going to get back to work. 

.

After about three days, the androids began to reach out to her. Androids were used to guidance, but they had the freedom to move on… BUT, then again… These technically were only a few years old. She arranged a meeting for them and Chase and Max escorted her to the site. 

Her protege, Mika, was already there and speaking with the androids whenever they arrived. “Charlotte!” She cheered, excused herself from the androids and rushed over, “It’s been extremely hectic today. There has been multiple reports to Davenport Industries about defective androids and Mr. Davenport told me that if I don’t get you on the phone with him within the hour, he is going to shut them all down!” She laughed nervously and wrung her hands. “Donald. Davenport. Yelled at me today! Do you know what is happening with the androids?”

“I do. And, I’ll call the Dom while Chase catches you up,” Charlotte began tapping on her wrist and walked off. 

Mika smiled at Chase. She had A HUGE crush on him, but he saw her as a little kid, and she was pretty small, but he wasn’t a large person himself, and she was young, but she was extremely smart and very mature, she felt for her age and… “Oh my God, I am so sorry! I didn’t hear a word that you said!” She admitted, wincing.

“Did the sound of your fawning drown him out?” Max teased. She glared at him, knowing that her face was slightly darker with the blood rushing through her veins. “It’s like this, Loudmouth, Charlotte freed the androids to make Jamaica better, and if all goes well, she’s gonna liberate androids all over the world.”

Her face was frozen as she stared at him, processing his words and stuck in place.

“That’s not what we agreed to tell her. Now, she’s faced with having to tell on us or be an accessory!” 

“RELAX. It’s Mika. She’s not gonna tell. She knows Char’s a good person, she has the hots for you, and she’s like… if I had a little sister who annoys me as much as my twin sister. When she snaps back to reality, she’ll deal with it.”

“She shouldn’t have to deal with it, because it was supposed to be between the three of us,” Chase said through his teeth before scanning Mika. “She’s in shock. Are you happy now?”

Max rolled his eyes and whispered to Mika, “Chase thinks you’re the smartest non-bionic girl he’s ever met…”

“WHAT?” She said. Max was about to repeat the lie, but she continued, “CHARLOTTE HAS BASICALLY UNPLUGGED THE ANDROIDS?”

“Basically,” Max said with nonchalant confidence and Chase said reluctantly. 

“Hooooooooh my God…” Mika said and waded through nothing in front of her but tense air to make her way to a seat. 

“Hmmm. Maybe I shouldn’t have told her,” Max said. Chase just fumed, but a call was coming through, so he walked off too while Charlotte was coming back. Max would have to explain this Mika freak out.

Chase answered the call and it was Donald. “Chase! Thank GOD I reached you!”

“Mr. Davenport… is there an emergency? I’ve sort of went on a spontaneous trip with some friends…”

Donald laughed for a bit, then sobered up and said, “Oh. You’re serious. Okay. Well, I’m sorry, but you’ll have to cut it short. I need you to go to Jamaica and oversee an incident that Charlotte has.”

“Oh? Yes. Sure. I can do that. No problem…”

“You’re in Jamaica, aren’t you?”

“Charlotte is one of very few friends I have and everyone knows this,” Chase said.

“Well, she really screwed the pooch with her most recent launch of android models. Businesses are threatening to withdrawn MILLIONS from us because of it. All of the droids are defected and I tried to shut them down, but can’t. You’ll have to figure out a way.”

“What if there isn’t a way?” Chase asked.

“There’d better be. Or the Smartest Woman in the World will have to get off of her pedestal.”

“What if they aren’t defected? If they’ve just decided that they shouldn’t have to be slaves…”

“They’re androids, Chase. We decide for them with a few buttons and wires. Now! Fix Charlotte's mistake and honestly, we might need to rethink you spending time with her.” Chase furrowed his eyebrows, forced a smile and hung up. 

It was gonna be a hard time when Mr. Davenport realized that he was in on this. 

.

Davenport Industries lost A TON of money from this, but Charlotte didn’t seem the least bit worried about Davenport ruining her in response. In fact, she seemed pretty settled that she was about to become very popular and well respected for this. A lot of the businesses in Jamaica were being sold off to other companies and  many resorts and such were cutting their losses. The idea of islands full of unpredictable androids was terrifying. That was much scarier than possibly going into a bad neighborhood and being treated like an outsider. Tourists started fleeing. Expats started reconsidering. Charlotte started rebuilding. 

There were androids trying to figure out their purpose, now that they could, and this was a beautiful place to figure it out. But… also… They all had numerous skills. And they required some maintenance, but Charlotte and Mika made rounds speaking to elders and politicians and citizens to see what things they might be able to help with and find androids that were willing to help out in exchange for help with their maintenance.  

After some of them found work and others boarded the ship back to the mainlands, to where Charlotte promised to help them out, Chase used this as a time to convince Mr. Davenport that it was good for business to take credit for this turnaround.

That whatever issues they had with the androids, He could say that he made the situation better and Charlotte would remain out of the narrative and continue to fix this for him. “I know losing money is tough, but you’ve got so much already and well… Do you want to lose all that money AND your reputation?” When all else failed, Chase knew he could probably intercede on Charlotte’s behalf with Tasha… but, Davenport agreed that it was better not to draw more attention to the failures and to quietly fix this. 

Charlotte was unbothered. Jamaica was on the verge of healing and the androids on the ship would be able to go wherever they chose to. 

Max and Charlotte were relaxing whenever Chase returned from his dealings with Davenport. “You two look at ease.”

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Max asked. Charlotte just made a face. 

“I feel like we got lucky with this. Until we’ve been able to find placements for the androids, should we proceed with setting more free? Like… can we logistically pull it off?”

“We are the people who can logistically pull off anything,” Max said. “We’ve got the smartest man, the smartest woman and an extremely smart, handsome, powerful superhuman. We’ve all had moments where nobody else but us was gonna figure out what to do. With our combined strengths and intellects…”

“We’ve got androids in the process of freeing other androids either remotely, or headed for missions,” Charlotte said smiling. 

“Have we forgotten about the hysteria of humanity?” Chase asked.

“We’ve got stuff in the process of combating that, too…” She pulled up a hologram from her wrist of all of the wonderful progress that the Jamaica androids were making in helping things. Mika was collecting hours and hours of positive footage in the event that opposition began to voice opinions.

Chase sat down and relaxed with them. Max passed him a glass, which he suspiciously looked at. “It’s a virgin daiquiri, Dude.” Chase accepted it, knowing that Charlotte would stop him if it wasn’t and took a sip. It was pretty delicious. Max picked up his own glass and lifted it, “To…”“Us,” Charlotte said. Both of them smiled at her, having very different imaginings of what “us” was, but agreeing, nonetheless. “To us!” They said and clanked glasses.

.

It took a few weeks for things to get the level of hectic that they expected. Chase had gone back to Elite Force. Max had gone back to T Force. Mika was almost wishing she was back in Danger Force, but GOD, being android liaison was an assignment that she had not anticipated receiving. Then again, it was giving her an opportunity to both show her linguistics expertise and also her political aspirations. 

Before she went to college, she knew a couple of languages, but she wanted to learn more of them. She initially wanted to be a global superhero. Charlotte was. Max was. Chase was. She knew some pretty powerful people thanks to this job, but whenever she became Dystress’ sidekick and Charlotte’s pupil, Charlotte helped her to realize that putting herself directly in danger wasn’t the only aspect of heroism and that people with minds like theirs could save the world from a desk if they worked hard enough and felt passionately enough. 

Because of that, no matter where they went or relocated, the first thing that she and Charlotte did was get desks. It was a little bit of a ritual, a little bit of a reminder. That no matter what role they would work, they’d be heroes because of their great minds and the greater good that they believed in. 

Mika was at her desk whenever she heard the loud sound of something coming towards them. She rushed out of her office and saw what she could only guess was a... TORPEDO??? It was coming right for them and all she could do was cover her eyes and SCREAM! 

The scream sent a huge wave towards the thing that she simply just knew for a few moments was about to make it explode right in her face, but instead it sent the torpedo back from whence it came and blew up the jet that launched it. Fiery wreckage fell into the water and she covered her chest with both hands in terror and shock. 

She heard some of the bystanders speaking in patois and debating on what they had just seen. She answered to let them know that they were attacked, but were safe, for now. They hadn’t expected her to be able to sound like them. She was very clearly not from there, even though she tried to fit in and she knew that at least a few had to have seen her use her superpowers. 

“Charlotte, we have a huge problem. Someone just tried to attack the android safe house, and I’m pretty sure that Shoutout killed them.”

“Are YOU okay, Mika?” Charlotte asked.

“I’m... shocked. Who would do this? A super villain?” Mika wondered.

“I wish. Super villains are easy to fight. This was very likely the government, or some sort of agency. See what androids you can round up to go on a search and rescue. I’m on my way back.” Charlotte lowered her head and muttered an affirmation. “You were right. You are right. And you will fight for what’s right, and you will win.” Moments later, she sent texts to Max and Chase, just to let them know.

Both of them arrived roughly the same time. Max with Billy and Chase with Bree. Bree and Billy looked at each other, then, before anyone could say anything, they were in a competition. Max catalogued the thought that whenever non supes were less terrible, they could create some sort of games where bionics verses supers. Charlotte walked out to her jet to see them, still in their hero suits and with nothing additional. “What are you two doing here? You should get as far away from this failure as possible.” She had one bag with her, either like she was going on a very short trip, or she didn’t expect to make it back.

“I don’t believe that you think this is a failure,” Max said, shaking his head. “You freed androids all over the globe in a matter of weeks.

“And somebody sent assassins to blow them up. I could’ve gotten a 20 year olf kid killed.”

“Mika’s not gonna die. She’s too smart!” Max said, trying to play off his own worry. “Come on. Let’s get into it. I resigned from T Force to help you.”

“You resigned?” Chase asked.

“Yeah, yeah... I know. Irresponsible and unthinkable, yadda yadda...” Max started.

“No... I quit too. I... had to see this through.” He reached for one of Charlotte’s hands and Max reached for the other. “To us,” Chase whispered and both of them squeezed her hands before they headed in to make sense of what had happened to Mika in Jamaica.

[twilighteve-writes]

Feather One Divided -- Chapter 1: The Dream

Fic Summary:

Feather one divided, fate’s ties frayed, Fractured and wedged, scattered and gone.

After sharing an unsettling dream of Felldrake, the Three Caballeros decided to join back together with Xandra to form a stronghold in case the sorcerer returned. But Felldrake’s plans proved to be bigger than they expected, and when he struck so close to home, it was all Donald could do to keep his family – and himself – together.

(Also available in AO3)

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Feather one divided to three,

The red, the blue, and the green.

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The rush of wind upon her face – unfamiliar, harsh, cold. The sky expanded, the universe opened for her eyes, galaxies swelling and shining with the light of stars and colorful nebulas. Rocks floated, seemingly weightless, but her feet stayed firmly grounded. The rocks may escape the laws of gravity, but she couldn’t.

A shape loomed over her, an ominous shade of purple. It was a giant fowl with multiple horns and large, round belly, with booming voice that rang and echoed in the galaxy. His whole appearance would have been hilarious with how dramatic he was if he wasn’t also downright terrifying. He grinned at her, and dread pooled in her stomach – something whispered in her mind, telling her that he shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be like this, that this was wrong, all wrong.

Red and green flashed around her and ran to the giant fowl, and she followed, clad in blue light. There was a weight of a sword in her hand, unfamiliar but not unwelcome.

The shape reached out, striking out like a snake. Her sight was obscured in the purple, and the world went dark.

She woke with a start.

She blinked, for a moment disoriented. She took a deep breath and felt her magic, knowing immediately that the dream didn’t come from her. With that in mind, she rose from her bed and treaded lightly on the wooden floor, making her way to the houseboat.

“Donald?” she called softly as she opened the door to his bedroom. “What was with that dream?”

Her brother was curled up on his hammock, face illuminated by his phone. He looked up at her and tiredly waved her away. “It’s nothing. Go back to sleep, Dell.”

“Are you sure? That didn’t feel like nothing,” Della said. “And you’re up. Are you okay? Should we go to the kitchen?”

Donald snorted. “Uncle Scrooge will be mad if we drink coffee and eat brownies again.”

“Well, there’s hot chocolate.”

Donald shook his head. “It’s fine, Dell. Go back to sleep.”

Della studied his face. “Well… if you’re sure.” She turned, her gaze on Donald lingering, and walked away. “Goodnight, Don.”

“Night, Dell.”

The door clicked shut.

With Della gone, Donald returned his attention to his phone, scanning the last texts in the group chat with Panchito and José.

 [9:27 PM] José: ok, so i will go to mexico to get panchito and then we’ll get you see you in duckburg, donald  :))

[9:29 PM] Panchito: i’m so excited for this! the caballeros, back together again!

[9:30 PM] Me: yea i’m excited too!! see you soon guys!

His fingers hovered over the keys, thinking about what he wanted to write. Before he could decide, the phone dinged softly as a new message came in. He checked in, reading the text, and the phone dinged again and again as more message came in.

 [2:43 AM] Panchito: hey did you see that

[2:44 AM] José: are you talking about the felldrake vision? si

[2:44 AM] Panchito: oh good! that’s not just me

[2:45 AM] Me: no?? notg ood? guys we haven’t heard of felldrake in literal years and we just had a shared vision this feels like an omen?

[2:47 AM] José: but we can’t do anything about it now we should meet up first i think discuss it in person

[2:48 AM] Panchito: and also see if we get more vision? maybe xandra will meet us

[2:49 AM] Me: do we know where she is or how to contact her

[2:50 AM] Panchito: no, she didn’t say

[2:50 AM] Me: well shit

[2:51 AM] José: ok, i have an idea i’ll hit the places xandra might be in as i go to panchito we’ll search for her as we go to duckburg when we get to donald we continue searching maybe we can check the old cabana

[2:53 AM] Panchito: that sounds good

[2:54 AM] Me: yeah, ok see you soon?

[2:54 AM] Panchito: see you soon buenos noches, dulces sueños

[2:55 AM] José: you too, panchinto, donald

 Donald locked the screen and set the phone away, mind whirling. It had been a while since he thought in length about Felldrake. After all, they hadn’t heard of the sorcerer after he ran away in Sheldgoose’s body, and while Xandra had gone to track him down, there was no word about it. In his mind, he’d assumed that maybe Felldrake had just… croaked.

He sighed and laid back down, one hand snaking underneath his pillow. He froze when his fingers brushed against something cool and hard, and he took it out.

The familiar amulet gleamed in his hand.

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Louie suppressed a yawn as he opened the fridge to get milk. The morning was lazy and sluggish, with the occupants of the manor reaching for coffee or breakfast for their chosen pick-me-up. He knew, though, that it wouldn’t be for long. Uncle Donald told them that Panchito and José would be visiting, which was exciting to say the least. They were fun to be around.

As he poured cereal into his bowl, though, he noticed Uncle Donald blearily looking at his mug, looking more pensive than excited. Frowning, Louie opened the carton of milk and asked, “So, Panchito and José. When will they arrive?”

“Hm, hwha?” Uncle Donald looked up to meet his eyes, his magic just as sluggish as he looked. The question registered and he nodded. “Right! Panchito and José, right. They’ll arrive maybe in a week or so, they’re kind of sightseeing as they go.” He straightened up, seemingly regaining a bit of clarity. “But I know you kids are going later, and you’d better be back for lunch.”

“Aw, don’t worry, Uncle Donald. We’re just going to be in Funso’s for a bit,” Huey assured. “As long as Dewey doesn’t spend too much time playing that new spy game…”

“Hey, that new spy game is the spiffiest game in existence, and I will not let you slander it.”

“It’s okay, we’ll make sure to check the time,” Webby said.

“Alright, then. Take care, you guys.” Uncle Donald went back to contemplating his coffee mug. Mom glanced at him, frowned, and turned to the kids.

“Anyway, you kids have enough money for the bus fare? Do you need anything?”

“That’s okay, we got everything,” Huey said. The rest of breakfast went down quietly, though Louie noticed Mom and Uncle Donald’s magic keep rising and poking each other the way they always do when they talked magically. A part of him wondered what they were talking about, but then he remembered the one time he asked they answered, in unison, taxes. He was too young to be thinking about taxes, thanks.

The four of them set off to the bus stop, meeting up with Violet and Lena on the stop nearest to Funso’s. Webby immediately flocked with the girls, chattering up and down about anything and everything as the boys exchanged greetings with them. Dewey practically dragged the girls to play Double-O-Duck while Huey and Louie opted to hang about the tables, people watching and waiting for the others to be done.

“Hey, do you want something to drink?” Louie asked after a while.

“Sure. We can share a cup, that’ll be cheaper,” Huey said. He glanced at Louie and whispered, “And, hey. Water, alright?”

“Psssh, Huey. It’s like you don’t know me at all.” Louie rolled his eyes and went to get the cup, already wondering if the Pep station was filled or not.

Huey huffed. “My brother is a criminal,” he commented dramatically. “Anyway, I’m gonna go check out the arcade. Meet you later?”

“Sure.”

Louie eventually settled for the punch, and he sat on the table, happily skimming though social media using Funso’s free wifi – it was slow, but bearable.

The sound of a chair leg scraping against the floor drew his gaze up, and he came face to face with a goose in purple who stared into his eyes with much more intensity than he was comfortable with. Upon seeing Louie looking up at him, he smiled. “Hello,” he greeted.

Louie blinked. “Uh, hi?”

���Is this seat taken?” the goose asked again. Without waiting for Louie’s answer, he leaned forward and placed his chin on his hand. “Tell me, boy. Are you alone? Don’t your parents know to not leave kids alone in places like this?”

Louie blinked again and sized the goose. “I’m not alone,” he said as he slipped his phone into his pocket and took the cup – it was empty by now – and slowly slid off the chair. “But I was told not to talk to strangers. Bye.” He walked hastily, passing the goose, eyes already scanning the arcade to find Huey.

“Hey, don’t be so hasty.” The goose’s hand shot out and caught Louie’s elbow, and he dropped the empty cup. “I just wanted to talk to you a bit. I’m a little concerned, you know, since you’re alone and all.”

“I’m not alone. Let go.” Louie tugged his arm away, but the goose didn’t relent. Panic whispered into his magic as he dug deep into himself, searching for Huey’s comfortable warmth and Dewey’s excitable sparks.

The goose had been maintaining a thin smile the whole time, but the moment Louie reached for his brothers’ magic, his smile widened into something bordering on a grin as something washed over Louie. It felt vast and limitless, dark with twinkles of light in the distance, and so so cold and unforgiving Louie felt his knees buckle immediately. He caught himself on the table and scrambled back, but the goose kept his hold.

“Oh,” the goose breathed. “Interesting.”

“Let go,” Louie demanded again, but his voice had grown weak.

“No, no, look at you. You don’t look like you can even stand up straight.” The goose tilted his head as his grip grew tighter. “Why don’t I just… make sure you’re okay?”

Louie opened his mouth to decline, but his tongue felt leaden, his body heavy, the vastness dark twining his limbs and pressing him down like invisible load upon his shoulders. Only his left hand seemed to feel lighter, and he didn’t know why.

“Hey!”

A hand grabbed his arm while another ripped the goose’s hold away. Louie stumbled as the invisible load lifted, as he found his voice once again. He looked up to see Funso’s pig manager, who took one look at him and hastily shoved him behind his leg. “Sir, what were you doing to the kid?” he asked menacingly.

“Oh, I was just making sure the boy is alright,” the goose reasoned as he stood up. “He looks unwell, and it doesn’t look like his parents are around.”

“Do you know him?” the manager asked again.

“I don’t – I don’t know him,” Louie interjected before the goose could reply.

“Is that so,” the manager growled at the goose. He glanced back at Louie and looked around. “Look, kid, you look shaken, so why don’t you go find Jane and go sit in my office for a bit?”

“No.” Louie’s answer might have come a little too quickly, given how the manager glanced at him in concern. “No, I’m. I’m fine. I’m just gonna go find my… friends.” He shuffled back.

The manager handed him a new cup. “At least take this. Go drink whatever, it’s on the house.”

“Thank you,” Louie took the cup with shaky hands and bolted out of there, catching the sight of the manager talking softly but sternly to the goose, who held a neutral smile on his face the whole time as he climbed the stairs to the arcade area.

He almost crashed into Huey as he ran into the arcade area, and Huey immediately steadied him. “Louie?” Huey called. “Are you okay? I felt you reaching out, what happened?”

Louie blinked, meeting Huey’s concerned gaze, trying to control his hands so he didn’t crush the cup in his hold. “Um, there was a… a man, a goose, he gave me the creeps. Funso’s manager dealt with him.”

Huey breathed, and Louie could almost feel his concern bleed into relief. The sound of people running closer drew their attention, and they turned to check. Dewey, Webby, Lena, and Violet ran to them, and Dewey skidded to a halt as he reached to Louie.

“What? What? You felt weird earlier, did something bad happen?” Dewey grabbed Louie by the arms and stared at him.

Huey placed a hand on Dewey’s. “Louie said there was a creepy man, but the manager dealt with it.”

Louie nodded and held up the cup. “The manager said I can take whatever. I guess that’s a compensation or whatever.”

“Did he say anything to you? The creep?”

“Not really. But he wouldn’t leave me alone. He grabbed me by my arm.” Louie frowned. “I think… he might have magic.”

“Did he feel like space? Big, dark, cold?” Lena cut in. “Because I felt that rising, earlier.”

“Yeah,” Louie gulped. “Yeah, it felt like that.”

Dewey looked around. “I don’t like this. Someone grabbed you and he has magic? And it felt paralyzing earlier.”

Huey blinked. “Oh. That was from him? The heaviness?”

Louie nodded. “I don’t know if he’s still around. If he is, I don’t want to stay here.”

Violet looked around. “What is he?”

“Goose in purple.”

“I don’t see anyone fitting that description.”

“Hey, come on. Let’s get you something to drink.” Webby took the cup and his hand and led Louie back to the tables. “I’ll get you something. What do you want? Pep? Punch?”

“I think I can do with Pep,” Louie admitted with a smile.

“One Pep, coming right up!” Webby interlocked her elbow with Lena’s and dragged her away.

“Hey, I know it’s just happened and it’s probably still really scary for you, but can you tell in detail what the goose is like?” Huey asked as Louie sat down. He had flipped his Junior Woodchuck Guidebook to an empty page at the back. “I’ll write it down, just in case we need to tell someone about it.”

Louie shrugged. “Goose. Dressed in purple suit, I guess? He’s got black hair and this weirdly shaped mustache. Like lightning bolt, or something.” He rubbed his eyes. “Ugh, it feels all creepy crawly. I think I tried to reach you two, earlier. He commented that it’s interesting.”

“How did he even get inside in the first place?” Violet wondered aloud. “I thought adults aren’t allowed in if they aren’t escorting children.”

“Uncle Donald has gotten in by saying he’s here to pick us up, maybe he said something similar,” Dewey said. He sat by Louie’s side, purposefully pressing their shoulders together. “It’s good if the manager’s kicked him out, though.”

Violet fiddled with her bracelet in thought. “Maybe you should call your uncle or your mother,” she suggested. “For safety reasons.”

The triplets exchanged glances and nodded. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” Huey said. “I’ll text Uncle Donald, since he’s the one who actually owns a car.”

Webby and Lena came back later, just as Huey finished up his conversation with Uncle Donald, bearing a cup of Pep for Louie. “Here you go,” Webby said, putting the cup by Louie’s hand. “Anyway, you can relax a bit. Lena checked earlier if there’s any weird magical signatures around, she didn’t get anything.”

“I mean, I got traces, but it’s probably from that creepy goose from earlier. The traces led outside though, so you’re all good,” Lena explained.

“Thanks.” Louie took the cup and sipped.

“Uncle Donald will pick us up soon,” Huey announced. “He said he’ll text if he’s arrived.”

“Cool, cool. Can we talk about something else now?” Louie said.

They were silent for a moment, then Violet spoke up, “Well, I was in the library a few days ago. I read something interesting in a book, …”

Louie settled in his seat and let Violet’s words wash over him.

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It didn’t take long for Uncle Donald to arrive with Mom in tow. Funso’s manager, who had been pretty much leaving them alone but hovering near while glancing around warily, walked them to the edge of the pier and explained the situation to them.

“Goose in purple suit?” Uncle Donald repeated, speaking slowly to make sure the manager understood him. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, purple suit. He has black hair and mustache looking like lightning bolts,” the manager confirmed. “He looked a bit too spiffy for our usual patrons, and he claimed he was looking after his niece, but he couldn’t point which kid. We kicked him out earlier, but you might want to look out.”

Uncle Donald looked around warily. “Yeah… yeah. Goose in purple suit. Thanks for the info.”

“Well,” Mom said as the manager went back to Funso’s and they were all seated in the car, “I guess we should all head back to the manor. We have board games at home so you guys could do that instead?”

“As long as it’s not game night again,” Huey muttered.

“I dunno, I think the last one was exciting,” Webby shrugged.

“What… happened in the last game night?” Violet asked.

“Do we even want to know?” Lena added.

“Oh, it was nothing! Just the family getting shrunk and we had to fight on Scroogopoly board.” Webby shrugged. “You know. Typical stuff.”

“Also, Scrooge gets crazy competitive so you might not want to get him involved. When it was just the three of us he got disturbingly happy at beating us in so many games…” Mom added.

“The last one was kind of my fault though. I was the one who shrunk Gyro and everything…” Louie grimaced and looked away, curling into himself in his seat.

The ride back to the manor was filled with their chatter, and Louie felt his frazzled nerves settle back into calmness. When Uncle Donald parked the car, he shooed the kids inside and took out his phone.

“Don, what are you doing? Let’s get inside,” Mom called from the doorway.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up soon,” Uncle Donald said, putting his phone by his ear. His voice was hushed when he talked, but Louie caught him saying Panchito and José’s name.

Louie ignored it in favor of going inside, idly chatting with Lena. He turned back to the door when he heard Uncle Donald stepping in. He stared at how Uncle Donald glanced outside warily, looking around, as if searching for something.

A part of him felt safer, with how Uncle Donald clearly looked after them. The other, for some reason, felt unsettled.

[mochuelovelli]

A comic idea I had before my pen died

So this was inspired by the Louie's Trauma post which I highly recommend reading. Hopefully I won't delete this later and will find the user who posted that. I'll probably come back to edit this when it isn't dark 20 lmao.

"You guys don't get it! We almost DIED today!" Louie barked upon entering the mansion, wiping away the chalky debris from nearly escaping another collapsing ruin. He hacked, trying to dislodge the dust in his nose but only succeeding in further agitating it while the rest of his family started to shake off the powder upon entering the home.

"Well, yeah but we almost die everytime we go on adventures." Huey quipped nonchalantly as he patted out the dirt from his hat before placing it back on his head.

"It's kinda our thing. Its nothing new, man." Dewey chimed before shaking like a wet dog, succeeding only in spraying Webby who ended up sneezing on him.

"Exactly! Don't you realize how insane that is?!" Louie said, ignoring his siblings antics. A few moments pasted as he waited for someone, anyone to say something but the just kept starring and it felt as if his skin was full of worms.

Meanwhile, a certain unlucky duck began to descend down the east wing stairs after deciding to use Scrooge's bath while he was out adventuring again. Upon hearing Louie continue he stopped and hid behind the suit of armour to remain out sight for the time being.

"Stop looking at me like that! I shouldn't be crazy for wanting my family and I to not get axed!" He exclaimed, causing the groups eyes to collectively widen before Della rushed out an excuse.

"Louie we are just a little confused, that's all. Why now? What was worse about this adventure than anything else we've done before?" Her voice found stability half way through but it also increased in tension though she looked more conflicted than upset. At least not upset with him.

"Nothing! But that's the point! It's the normalcy, it's the sheer number of times someone has been almost eaten by a chimera or accidentally released an ancient curse or having to break into some facility to save us or gets lost-!" At each example, the youngest triplet locked eyes with the other kids who were the cause of that particular excursion. Only holding back when he caught his mother's gaze. One which was a mix of regret and expectance in the most empty way possible. This was new. She had never given him that kind of stare before, not when she grounded him, not when he was revealed to be working with Glomgold, and not even when he decided to keep all of Scrooge's money.

And it felt so much worse.

"It's not fair, that I'm the only one that feels like they're drowning because I can't keep my head above water like the rest of you!!" He yelled out with a wave of his arms as he tried to turn his attention back to the others. He was also struggling to keep the tears that suddenly began to well up in his eyes from falling. Scrooge, who had creeped back farther towards the entrance began to hesitantly walk forward.

"Oh, lad that's not true-" he began as gently as his voice would allow before he was interrupted by his nephew's cry of anguish.

"THEN YOU AREN'T PAYING ATTENTION TO WHAT'S HAPPENING!" The boy in green screamed at the top of his lungs, so loud that Huey actually stepped back and covered his ears.

"See here young man, don't raise your voice and interrupt you uncle when he is trying to talk to you." Mrs. Beakley scolded as she placed her hands on her hips, though her glare didn't deter the little duck.

"Grrrr-I DON'T CARE!!" He cried, waving his arms before gripping his feathers and pulling hard. At the sight, Beakley along with the other adults, began to worry.

"Louie, please let's just calm down and talk it out I know you'll feel better-" Della tried again, this time sounding a little more desperate and emotional. However, she was yet again cut off by her third son as he redirected his wrath back at her.

"No!! You don't know me! You don't understand how much it hurts to never stop worrying that you and everyone you love might be snuffed out. You guys aren't real I..." He was practically seething that he again lost steam half way through.

How pathetic, he thought, I can't even be properly mad without breaking down crying.

"Maybe you're right," he let out a humorless laugh as he sunk further into the depths of his worn hoodie. It stank of debris, sweat and possibly bug guts but he tried not to think about it.

"It does sound funny when I say it out loud. A duckling drowning because he can't swim in a puddle. How ironic."

"You caught me! I'm a liar and a cheat! Somehow! Somehow after being raised along side two great brothers and by a dutiful uncle for ten years then suddenly finding out you're related to the best treasurer hunter and richest duck in the world! I made so many new friends, had fun expanding my "business" beyond sneaking soda at Funzone's! I got my mom back! I shouldn't want anything! I don't need anything but yet it's never been enough for me ever! You know who else is like that? Glomgold! The Beagles!Don Karnage! Mark Beaks! Magica! Lunaris! They all take and take and take because they don't know how not to!" For several heart beats, nothing but the sound of the combined sniffles of mother and son could be heard within the halls of McDuck manor. Not a soul, living or otherwise, stirred for six whole seconds until Louie kicked a rare dust bunny; something Duckworth would manage to tease Mrs. Beakley about for the rest of the week if she doesn't figure out how cast him back to the underworld before then. Which most likely won't happen.

"Let's face it, how things go around here... I never stopped being the bad guy." Louie did his best to compose himself again by wiping his bill with his sleeve, ignoring the taste of black licorice that was probably the remaining guts of Killer Bugs of Malaysia stuck in his hoodie.

"That is not true!" Della denied wholeheartedly, refusing to let her son believe he would become anything like those urchins. Especially Lunaris. Despite her cry, however, the duckling simply wrapped his arms around himself tightly before marching upstairs.

"I'm going to my room, please don't follow me." He pleaded meekly as the remaining children tried to follow him up but were stopped but Scrooges cane.

"Louie..." Webby called out as she watched him disappear upstairs, only when he did Scrooge put down his cane and held it firmly out in front of him with a stoney expression.

"I didn't know he felt that way..." The duck in pink whispered out as she clasped her hands together.

"Me neither, I feel like such a jerk!" Dewey agreed dejectedly before turning to his brother who had been mumbling something since Louie began to walk up the stairs.

"I should've known something was wrong earlier, I'm the eldest it's my responsibility to look after you guys." He said clearly with folded arms placed under his arms.

"No children, don't blame yourselves for this. It's not your responsibility." Mrs. Beakley reassured as she knelt down to place a hand on Webby's and Huey's shoulder.

"But granny we're his family, it's our job to look after each other. We could have at least told someone about it if we had known." The spy's granddaughter argued, rejecting that they didn't have any fault in whatever happened to Louie.

"No, Mrs. Beakley is right it shouldn't..." Della was once again interrupted, this time actually annoyed as it seemed that something metal had fallen to the ground. In fact, the entire suit of armour including the left over air-horns and one very unfortunate sailor had fallen down the steps.

"Donald?" His twin questioned in some exhaustion as she and the kids were quick to run over and help him out of the pile of laid onto of him.

"Why were those things still in there?!" He groaned kicking one of the cans hard enough to cause it to go off again and making him fall back over the suit. The Duck family rolled their eyes and picked him up again, this time making sure he couldn't slip again.

"Why were you hiding behind the suit of armour?" Della countered while also swearing she had gotten rid of those air-horns months ago.

"And why were you upstairs?" Scrooge asked with some suspicion as Donald only coughed and turned towards his sister.

"I didn't want to barge in when you guys were clearly trying to talk with him but I didn't want to leave because of what was happening." Whatever levity Donald temporarily brought to the situation vanished as Della gave her brother a regretful stare that was ever as bitter and confused as she felt.

"I can talk to him if you'd like." He offered with a slight gesture to the west wing which gave her an excuse to look somewhere else.

"I overheard pretty much everything and if any of us is equipped to handle being stressed out about our "family outings" it would be me." Donald continued in a rare moment of confidence that took back the rest of the family, all except Della and Mrs. Beakley, the last of which was a little surprised to hear it again regardless.

Della only took a moment before she turned back to Donald with a sad smile on her face.

"Thanks, Don."

To be continued

[secret-diary-of-an-fa]

The End of Year Awards Are Back... and This Time, It’s Personal!

And so we approach the end of 2020, the year that never really began. On paper, at least, it looked incredibly promising. There were lots of great movies slated to come out; culture seemed slightly less paucity-riddled and pointless than usual; good things were in the air. Then COVID happened, and basically fucked everything. Actually, that’s not quite true: my personal year has been fucking spectacular. I’m in a long-term relationship with a gorgeous woman for the first time in forever- no more abrupt trysts and stolen moments for yer humble narrator: I’ve got a sumptuously plus-size lady-friend who actually wants to spend substantial amounts of time me (and has knockers you could sled down, were you so inclined). I also started a Youtube channel where I upload performances of magic tricks I’ve designed and a few people seem to quite like it. Oh, and I’ve written four novels, with a fifth well on its way to completion. Unfortunately, that’s my life, not the life of our civilisation and culture as a whole. The fact that bugger all happened in that makes this end-of-year round-up a little hard to write. With that in mind, I’m going to hand out the gongs for 2020, but I’m also going to do my usual dodge of giving end-of-year awards to things that I discovered in 2020, even if they came out the year, decade or century before. It’s not like any right-minded person gives a hoot about my opinion anyway. Right then, everyone clear on the rules? Then let’s roll up our sleeves and plunge elbow deep into the fetid trough of our decaying society to ferret out the best and worst of the Things That Humans Have Done Recently.

The ‘I Like It Because It Confused Thick People’ Award for Best High-Concept Sci-Fi Movie... … Goes to the sterling Tenet, a spy film that used entropy inversion and symmetric, opposite-direction timelines within the same physical space the way most spy films use hacking and guns. Christopher Nolan films are always intricately constructed and meticulously-executed, but this one must have had Japanese Master Puzzle-Box Makers crying into their breakfast cereal. Is breakfast cereal a thing in Japan? I honestly I have no idea. For some reason, all I can imagine is a sort of dry kedgeree where all the ingredients that aren’t rice have been removed. But I digress. For all its intricacy, Tenet is actually really easy to follow once you’ve grasped the basic premise that there’s a machine that lets people move backwards through time, and that this makes them appear to move in reverse to the rest of the world while they perceive the rest of the world as moving in reverse. Nolan maintains a mastery of cinematic visual language that makes even the most abstruse concept easy to wrap your head around. Nonetheless, following Tenet’s release, dumb people took to the Internet on mass to complain that the film was confusing and stupid, never once realising that their inability to conceptualise time in non-linear ways was their own failing, not Nolan’s. I find that refreshing. It’s nice to see a sci-fi film that’s actually made for smart-cookie sci-fi fans and doesn’t give a hoot if it alienate thickos.

The Award for Most Inexplicably Compelling Web Comic… … Goes to Questionable Content. I originally started reading Questionable Content because I’d heard that the female lead and love interest was a plus size lassie and that shit’s my jam. However, the art style makes everyone look like a skinny indie-type, regardless of their actual, in-universe size, so it doesn’t do much to titillate my Fat Admiring Titillation Centres. And yet, I’m over five hundred ‘episodes’ in and still reading. The thing is, I couldn’t tell you why for the life of me. Maybe it’s the hope that the art style will evolve to the point where the people look like actual human beings with different body types (but then, why would I care unless I was invested for some other reason). Maybe it’s the fact that when I get one of the many, many obscure band or pop culture references, I feel a little buzz of kinship with the writer. Maybe it’s the fact that it takes place in a universe where robots and superheroes are things that regularly happen, yet most of the strips are just normal people chatting shit in a coffee shop and the slice-of-life narrative/sci-fi setting appeals to my sense of juxtaposition. I don’t know, but I find it really compelling to the extent that I’ve pissed away entire days reading it. I have a horrible feeling that it’s a short step from this to really angsty hentai. If I start singing the praises of that, somebody please shoot me in the crotch.

The ‘Forest Gump Debating Peter Andre’ Award For Most Sustained or Elongated Instance of Stupidity… … Goes to Donald Trump. I was tempted just to award this gong to his entire presidency, but that wasn’t just stupid: it was also venal, corrupt, horrifying and punctuated by terrible moments of low cunning. So, instead, this award goes to his ‘soup’ rant. For those of you who missed it, the former President of the United States spent a really, really long time (in the run-up to the election) wittering on about protestors throwing cans of soup at police. What was dumb and weird about it was that he appeared to be extolling the virtues of soup as a siege weapon, going into really specific detail about how it was better than a brick because it could be thrown with more force, finishing with the utterance that protestors would just argue that “this is just soup for my family” if they were caught with the cans… which is phrased wrong in such a subtle and inhuman way it’s hard to imagine that anyone actually ever said it, at least in those words. I have no idea if protestors in America were throwing soup cans at police (which would be entirely justified considering how many innocent people American police have murdered in cold blood quite recently) or if this was a fantasy dreamed up by the former president in the cloudcuckooland that is his diseased little brain. Either way, the connected rant was balls deep in dumb.

The Most Disturbing Unintentional Impression of Vincent Price Award… … Goes to the narrator from One Step Beyond, a Twilight Zone-esque anthology of weirdness that purports to be based on true events and has to be seen to be believed. The stories are oft-disturbing instances of spooky-inflected human drama and can occasionally be quite disconcerting… until they’re book-ended by a dude who sounds like Vincent Price reading a children’s book in a really earnest voice. It’s weird and no, it didn’t hit our screens in Space Year 2020, it dates back to Ye Olden Times of the 1950s or 60s, when men were men, women were women and technincolour was a distant dream that could get you strung up for witchcraft. Nonetheless, I only encountered it this year, so it’s getting its prize. I warned you I was going to pull this shit, but you foolish fools didn’t listen.

The ‘It’s Not Gay If I Don’t Clench’ Award for Cognitive Dissonance… … Goes to Amazon Prime, the content-making branch of evil, tax-dodging, anti-monopoly-law-breaking megalith Amazon. You see, while Big Daddy Amazon is off being incredibly sinister and worrying, like a shifty vampire hanging off the economy’s throat, the creative people at Amazon Prime are busy making or acquiring some of the flat-out best TV ever committed to a streaming-service, from the extra-weird slice of fun-pie that is The Tick, to the entertainingly horrifying cultural dissection of The Boys to the utterly unique Carnival Row, to the superbly adapted American Gods. It’s a bit like discovering that Geoffrey Dahlmer single-handedly created a body of artistic work to rival Vincent Van Gogh’s when he wasn’t pouring acid onto the brains of emotionally vulnerable young adults. It gives me a headache.

The Clint Eastwood Award for Most Effective Older Gentlemen… … Goes to Joe Biden, for unseating dipshit in chief Donald Trump with the casual badassery of a Wild West gunslinger shooting a baddy (probably played by Leonardo Di Caprio) in the balls. I mean, he’s not the best Prez America could ask for but a) as a Brit I don’t have to care and b) anyone who ousts Trump gets mad props from me.

The ‘It’s a Pity Everything Else is Shit Now’ Award for Best New Ongoing Series… … Goes to my own Youtube series, Victor The Magician, in which I claim to be a reality-hopping, interdimensional wizard on an endless quest to… perform magic, basically. I’ll admit that the quality is super-variable (Youtube algorithms and their constant demand for fresh content be a harsh mistress, etc., etc.). However, when I’m good, I’m really good. If you’re looking for a punch-line other than the fact that this whole bit is a self-promoting plug, it’s this: my Youtube series really was the best thing to come out this year. Not because I’m great or anything, just by default. A promising year really did turn into a cultural wasteland the moment COVIDius Rex reared its scaly head.

The Zombie Ian Curtis Award for Most Crushing Disappointment… … Goes to Rick and Morty Series 4. As I think I’ve said before, it was still good, but it just didn’t reach the dizzy heights of nihilistic lunacy achieved in series 1-3. I think the problem is that the audience is meant to learn something from Rick’s poor choices, even if he doesn’t, because the creators saw the amazing success of Bojack Horseman and decided they wanted a slice of that sweet, tangy deconstructionist pie. It worked up to a point in the climax of Series 3, but having made their point, the showrunners probably should have moved onto a different point. They forgot that the appeal of Rick Sanchez is his combination of ‘entertaining car-crash of a human being’ and ‘unstoppable superbeing’. Push him through an arc and you risk breaking the thing that makes him and the show so endlessly watchable. Rick, unlike Bojack, just wasn’t built for heavy introspection. Also, the team hired on new writers who were less than familiar with the characters, setting and subtext, and that’s always an invitation to disaster.

The Special Sir Mixalot Award for Posteriority… ...Goes to… my girlfriend and glamorous assistant, Mystic Miss Terri, who’s arse is gorgeous and majestic.

The ‘Are They STILL Making That?’ Award for a Show You Forgot Existed And is Now Back… … Goes to Supernatural, which never technically went away and whose final series is apparently being broadcast on one of the 4 channels (though who knows which one, any more), It’s kind of nice to realise it’s still out there and be reminded that there are still people who care deeply about what happens to it. It’s like when you remember ‘oh yeah, [insert cute animal here] actually exists and isn’t just an internet meme. That’s nice’. Also, it’s good to see Jared Padelacki working steadily. It can’t be easy to find acting gigs when most producers just want to shoot you and mount your antlers over a fireplace.

The Irritating Magician Award for Something That Just Won’t Fuck Off… ...Goes to this blog entry, which is three pages long in Word. Good grief. Bye y’all! See you next year, assuming that the last few days of 2020 don’t culminate in a civilisation-destroying attack by giant space-ants. If that seems worryingly specific, let’s just say that- as Leonard Cohen would say “I’ve seen the future and, brother, it is murder”… by giant space-ants.