#Duckling nappies

[fudgeypants]

Duckling Nappies: A Unique Solution for Pet and Rescue Enthusiasts

When it comes to caring for ducklings, their charm and fluffiness can quickly overshadow the practical challenges of keeping them indoors. Whether you’re a pet owner, a wildlife rehabilitator, or a farm enthusiast, one common concern is managing their mess. Enter duckling nappies: a quirky yet highly practical solution that ensures cleanliness while allowing your feathered friends to roam freely inside your home or facility.

Why Duckling Nappies?

Ducklings, like most birds, lack the ability to control their bowel movements. This can quickly lead to messes in your living space, which is both inconvenient and unhygienic. Traditional methods like using disposable pads or restricting the ducklings to a single area can limit their freedom and hinder their social development.

Duckling nappies solve this problem by providing a wearable, washable, and reusable option for mess management. They allow you to keep your ducklings close, interact with them freely, and maintain a cleaner environment.

How Do They Work?

Duckling nappies are designed to fit snugly and comfortably around a duckling’s body. Most models feature adjustable straps and soft, lightweight materials to prevent irritation. They include a pouch or liner where absorbent pads can be placed to collect waste. This liner is easy to remove and clean, making maintenance straightforward.

When selecting a nappy for your duckling, it’s essential to consider their size, as ducklings grow rapidly. Many brands offer adjustable designs or a range of sizes to accommodate different stages of development.

Benefits of Using Duckling Nappies

Hygiene: Duckling nappies significantly reduce messes, keeping your living space cleaner and more pleasant.

Freedom: These nappies allow ducklings to roam freely indoors without restrictions, promoting their physical and emotional well-being.

Interaction: By using nappies, you can bond more closely with your ducklings without worrying about accidents.

Eco-Friendly Options: Many duckling nappies are reusable, making them a sustainable choice compared to disposable alternatives.

Tips for Success

Introduce Gradually: Some ducklings may need time to adjust to wearing a nappy. Start with short periods and offer treats to encourage positive associations.

Check Regularly: Ensure the nappy fits properly and doesn’t cause discomfort. Regularly check for leaks or soiling.

Clean Thoroughly: Maintain hygiene by cleaning the nappy and changing liners frequently.

Final Thoughts

Duckling nappies are an innovative and practical solution for anyone who wants to keep their ducklings close while maintaining a clean and comfortable environment. Whether you’re raising ducklings as pets, fostering them for rehabilitation, or simply enjoying their company, these adorable accessories ensure that life with your feathered friends remains stress-free and delightful.

[archaiceuphoriah]

Shhh, my sweet one. Relax, Mama's here. I know you're nervous about trying out nappies. But you've been getting very small lately...No, Mama is not mad about your accidents. She loves her baby, no matter how big or small. But it's also Mama's job to make sure her precious one is cared for. We'll go nice and slow though, okay? Okay. Here, how about you look in the diaper bag? See all the things I have? This is the changing pad I got for you; isn't it cute? And it's nice and soft, go ahead and lie down. Shhh, here's your paci; is that better? Alright my love, Mama is going to put some oil and powder on you so you don't get a rash. Now we get the nappy on...there! All done! I'm sure it does feel different, but I promise you'll get used to it. Want to walk around a little bit? Here, take Mama's hand. It's not so bad, right? The extra padding does make it more of a waddle than a walk. Yes, just like a duckie! My little baby duckling! And I promise as soon as you need a change, I'll be there. Everything is going to be fine; Mama's promises.

(Whoever requested this story, I hope you enjoyed!)

[jae-daddy]

Red Rose (5)

jaebum mafia series 

one / two / three / four / five 

masterlist 

pairing: im jaebum x reader  genre: mafia, angst, romance, mature plot: im jaebum was your first love in university, but then disappeared, and now he’s back and he is a mafia leader? a/n: im so excited to write this story! i hope yall enjoy it too! not edited <3

You smiled at the dark-haired boy juggling the armful of snacks towards you. You get up, running over to him and helping him place everything onto the picnic mat.

“This is so much stuff, Jaebum,” you remarked looking at the pile of snacks heaping on the light pink blanket. Jaebum didn’t reply, instead, he reached into the bag he brought during the first run from the car and pulled out cushions and more blankets.

He set three books out for you and plopped himself onto the blanket. He lay a cushion underneath his head but kept a hand underneath his head as his other hand beckoned you towards him, “Come on babe, there are so many clouds today. I bet I can make more animals out of them than you.”

“Expand the category to anything,” you lay on his chest, crossing your ankles as you reached for one of the books he picked out for you. You opened the book, the smell of his cologne flowing through the pages, “And watch me whoop your ass as I read this book.”

Jaebum hummed tauntingly, as he brought his fingers into your hair, running through it gently.

You sighed happily, putting the book down on your stomach and gazed up at the sky. Once again you were reminded of how big this world was, how much bigger it was than your mind could comprehend. You were so small, so insignificant, but at that moment the golden sunshine fluttering in your chest was endless. In that moment, the entire universe was just this; just you and him. His heartbeat gently beating against your neck, your fingers finding their way to his.

There hand in hand, on the pink blanket, under the never-ending sky, you were endlessly happy.

“I don’t understand why we have to do this,” you heard him grumble for the hundredth time. You had let it go the first time, understandingly, but every time he repeated his resentment, every time he complained, the room became hotter. The apartment grew smaller, shrinking close around you; and this was the last straw. You couldn’t do it anymore.

You closed the last of the box from the kitchen and stared at the tall boy who made your living room look like a dollhouse.

Yugyeom looked up closing the final box, his eyes narrowing with irritation. You didn’t say anything and glared back at him.

This little brat was acting as if you were the one making him pack your apartment for you. You were helping him, and you didn’t need his help in the first place. Actually, you wouldn’t have had to move in the first place, but here you were moving out so you don’t get murdered in the middle of your sleep.

It was all Im Jaebum’s decision. Him deciding how to keep you safe, and him deciding to send this tall brat to help you pack up.

“Thank god we’re finished, anymore of your whining and I would have to murder you,” you rolled your eyes at him.

A corner of his red lips lifted as his eyes narrowed further, “You sure are violent for a waitress.”

Your eyes narrowed further at the way he said the waitress. He said it as an insult. As if was beneath him; as if being a waitress made you undeserving of his respect. And he should be respecting you, you had saved his life.

“And you whine like a child for being such a big bad criminal,” you smiled back at him.

Before he could reply, Jinyoung walked back into the apartment getting off the phone, “The movers will be here in fifteen minutes, are we done?”

“We done?” Yugyeom choked staring at Jinyoung. Yugyeom jabbed his tongue against his cheek angrily before muttering, “You didn’t do anything. I did.”

“I packed!” You protested at the same time as Jinyoung.

Yugyeom didn’t skip a beat, he pointed to Jinyoung first, “You have been gone for the past two hours making a phone call. You packed one box in total.” He then turned to you, scowling, “It’s not helping when it is your house. This is your shit-hole of a house, your shit, so you should be doing the packing anyway.”

Jinyoung just cooed, mockingly at the younger boy, “Is our little baby tired?”

“Aww,” you cooed along.

If looks could kill you and Jinyoung would be ten feet underground right now. But he didn’t say anything more and just stomped out of the apartment making you cringe. You were sure your neighbours downstairs would be cursing at the loud noise.

You turned to Jinyoung with a small smile, “Do you want a drink? I got four beers left in the freezer.”

“Why not,” he sighed, settling into the two-seater sofa, in the middle of the living room. You came back, passing him a bottle before sinking into the old sofa next to him.

“This is a really small place,” he commented talking in the apartment. It was small, it was just bigger than the hall you had breakfast in this morning. You hated the colour of the walls, but now that you were leaving you knew you were going to miss the way it clashed with every piece of furniture you ever got.

“It was good enough for me,” you replied, before taking a sip of the beer. You gasped at the old sensation burning down your throat making him turn towards you with raised eyebrows. You just smiled, gesturing to the beer, “It’s so cold and my throat feels so... raw.”

“Well, you did have an eventful past week.”

“Has it really been a week?” You both looked at the murky pink walls.

“Actually, it’s been less than a week.” He answered.

“It feels like it's been a lifetime,” you whispered.

Jinyoung stayed quiet for a few moments before saying, “It'll remain hard for a while until we solve this.”

“I know,” you sighed, taking a sip.

“It does get better though,” he took a sip before adding, “Or at least you get used to it.”

You bit your lip as a question bubbled inside you. You wanted to ask him why they did this if it was so tough. Why did they choose to be criminals when it was so dangerous, when they were getting hurt and hurting others. But you didn’t know if it was your place to ask him that.

Instead, you asked something that was probably equally as stupid, “How do you know Jaebum?”

His eyes crinkled as he chuckled at the question, shaking his head with a wide smile on his face, “JB and I go way back.”

“How back?” You turned towards him, completely interested.

They couldn’t have gone too back, because back then you knew Im Jaebum. And your Im Jaebum used to find the shapes of ducklings in the cloud, not shoot men and get blood splattered all over his suit.

You would’ve known of Jinyoung, in a story or heard his name in passing at the very least. But this was the first time you had heard of him.

Was it after his dad passed away? Was it so traumatic for Jaebum that he joined the wrong crowd?

“Nappies,” Jinyoung snorted, answering your question. “Our parents were friends, so we grew up together. He is my best friend and my boss, but he is my brother first and foremost. We always have each other's backs.”

You didn’t say anything and just stared at him, in confusion. How could he and Jaebum be so close but you never heard of him? No photo of him in his dorm, no appearance in the stories of his childhood he would tell you. It was almost as if Jinyoung had been a ghost for Jaebum in college.

You didn’t have the heart to tell Jinyoung that Jaebum didn’t mention him to you. So, you just continued to stare at him as you took him his dark features.

“All of us, us boys,” Jinyoung took a long sip of the beer. “We are all brothers, we will sacrifice ourselves before letting the other get in harm's way.”

You smiled at that, even though they were a bunch of criminals, “That’s admirable.”

“You’re part of it now,” Jinyoung looked over at you, meeting your eyes with his sparkling ones. “We protect you like one of us now.”

“Just for three months,” you breathed, feeling uncomfortable under his heavy gaze.

Jinyoung nodded slowly, after a long moment he asked, “Will you move back here after it ends?”

“No, I can’t,” you bit your lip, shrugging a shoulder. “There’s no returning policy in this apartment.”

“That’s good then,” he said, making you frown. Jinyoung shot you a loopy smile before he explained, “It’s better to move so no one knows where you live anymore.”

A shiver ran through you at his words. It wasn’t just Marco’s men who could be after you. Certainly, they weren’t the only enemies Jaebum and his mafia had, the others might come after you too if they found out.

How long does this continue? When do you get to get out of here, truly free?

“The movers are here,” Mr Grumpy walked in, taking an unopened beer from between you and Jinyoung and chugging it down, “Fuck’s sake I needed that.”

“Language!” Jinyoung gasped.

//

You sipped from your glass of orange juice and vodka, shimmering your shoulders as you hopped around the room. The rhythm of the happy song wrapped around you as you did a twirl trying to keep the drink from spilling.

Due to the very imminent danger that currently resided over you, you had three weeks off work. A whole month of no working, of no diner, of doing absolutely nothing. Therefore, like every other sane person on basically house arrest, you got tired of spending day after day in your room.

In the past three days, you barely saw anyone. The last time you had seen anyone was Jackson who had come to inform you that you would not be going to work due to security issues. When you asked how they managed to get Randy to agree, he shrugged with a charming smile and said, “We can be very persuasive, waitress.”

It seemed like everyone called you waitress. Well, everyone except Jinyoung and Jaebum. Jinyoung being the gentleman he was called you respectfully by your name, and Jaebum, well, he just didn’t talk to you at all.

After the little meltdown, you sat down with yourself and made a list of all the pros and cons of staying here. The pros included you were safe, you will not get kidnapped or murdered, you would live under the same roof as Jaebum which meant you would run into him, talk to him and maybe, just maybe, everything would go back to normal. Cons were that they, themselves, kill you, use you as a drug mule, and you find out Jaebum remembers but is ignoring you because he despises you.

You groaned at the thought and took another deep chug from the glass in your hand. You were tired of staring at your wall endlessly, so you decided to have a little party by yourself. You went down to the kitchen where the staff were shaking as if you’d pull out a gun and shoot them any second.

You took another drink for that example, trying to drown the nausea bubbling in your stomach.

Don’t think about it, you reminded yourself. If I don’t think about it, it didn’t happen.

You went to the kitchen and the kitchen staff almost shit themselves. You tried to make them feel relaxed, but your anxiousness only made them more on guard and scared. When you asked for a bottle of vodka and orange juice, and chicken nuggets, they were more than happy to please you.

To spell your boredom away you were drinking vodka, eating chicken nuggets, and singing and dancing with your entire soul to your playlist. You walked over to the speaker, cranking it up before playing the next song.

You groaned at how perfect the song was, you welcomed the nostalgia as you spun away from the control. You shimmied towards your plate of chicken nuggets, picking one up and stuffing it into your mouth as you began singing the lyrics.

“Oh god,” suddenly the music was so faint you could barely hear it.

“Oh no, that was the best part!” You groaned, turning around, singing the part with all your heart. The words got stuck in your throat as you saw the familiar boy standing in all black in front of you.

You gave him a toothy grin, as you sighed, happily, “Finally.”

Jaebum stared at you with an unreadable expression.

“Ugh,” you groaned taking him in. It was so unfair, it was so fucking unfair. How the hell did he get hotter over the years, isn’t age supposed to make people not attractive? Im Jaebum was ageing like fine wine, “And I wanna drink all of it.”

You pointed at him, your finger moving in circles despite you standing straight.

Im Jaebum looked like sin in all black. His dark locks messily pushed back, revealing his fucking sexy forehead. His forehead was so sexy, how had you never realised how sexy it was before? Maybe because he didn’t put it up before, your Jaebum had his hair falling over his forehead.

He would feel uncomfortable in the black shirt this Jaebum wore, and the black slacks. Your Jaebum would have been itching to get out of those expensive black dress-shoes and into his converses.

But this Jaebum was stunning. The dark black of midnight stark against his pale skin made his dark features even darker. It made him look more dangerous, stronger, more... angry.

“You’ve had more than enough to drink,” he crossed his arms in front of him. Your gaze followed the way his arms bulged under the black material. You licked your lips as your eyes roamed over him.

He did get a lot fitter than you remembered him. Maybe because he was a man this time around and not a boy.

He was a man though.

Such a typical fucking man, trying to dictate your life. This is exactly what you had seen growing up, a man trying to dominate over the females around him; that alpha male ego bullshit.

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want,” you told him, giving him your best sassy look.

Jaebum didn’t look intimidated. For a brief moment you thought you saw a glimpse of a smile on his lips, but that might have been your imagination. Because all he did was shake his head, his face emotionless and sombre as he replied, “If you have any more, you’ll regret it.”

“So, I’ll be the one regretting it,” you shrugged, walking towards him. You lost your balance but caught yourself. You held up a hand towards Jaebum, who had flinched slightly at your potential fall. You stood up straighter, “I’ll vomit, I’ll have a headache. I’ll be the one to die if those other mafia people kidnap me, what’s it to you?”

“I’m not having any conversation with you in this condition,” he shook his head, grabbing the vodka bottle before walking towards the door.

You frowned, suddenly feeling scared that he’s going to leave. You didn’t want him to go, even if all he did was stand there and glare at you, pretending not to remember you, you wanted him to stay.

“No, you can’t-” you hiccuped, you can’t leave, you wanted to tell him.

Jaebum sighed, looking incredible in his black outfit, as he glanced at the vodka bottle in his hand, “You-”

He let out another exhausted sigh before saying, “I’m taking it for myself. I want to have some.”

You smiled brightly at that.

“Yes! Of course, you can have some!” You sat down in front of the fireplace, beside the table with the chicken nuggets. You gestured to the plate, as the heat of the fire gently hovered over your back, “Here have some chicken nuggets, it tastes exactly like McDonald's with the sauce!”

Before Jaebum could reply you felt yourself falling backwards, but you quickly caught yourself. You let out a little giggle as Jaebum found standing with both his arms out as if he could catch you from across the room.

“I’m good,” you mumbled. You were about to say more but then you started thinking of the picnic that day with Jaebum. No one could’ve predicted it, but one moment you fell asleep under the summer sky only to wake up to a rainstorm.

You felt someone settle next to you. You looked over to find Jaebum, and you smiled brightly, “You came.”

“Of course, I’d always come back to you,” he smiled back brightly.

Jaebum’s frown deepened, making your smile turn upside down.

You watched him in the flames of the fire behind you, and your heart sank, “You don't smile anymore. I haven’t seen you smile since I met you again.”

You reached up and brushed a strand of hair that fell onto his forehead. His bright dark eyes met your drunk gaze, and you frowned this time. You felt tears prickle your eyes as you ran the back of your hand down his cheek, “There is a darkness around you. You walk with it, or it walks with you. Why?”

Why are you so sad?

Why are you here?

What happened to make you like this?

Was it all the people you have hurt? Does it weigh down on you? Does it hurt you thinking about them too?

Did you start as a mistake too? Wrong place, wrong time, and this is your life now?

I understand how you feel. I’m just like you.

I think of those men I’ve shot too. I am just as bad. Does the numbers or intention even matter when the blood on your hands is the same?

“Pew pewpewpew pew,” you aimed your finger gun as you shot different areas of the room. You had shot real humans, you were a shooter. You knew how to use guns. You were dangerous too, you understood Jaebum, “Pew pew.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Jaebum stared at you, terrified.

You turned towards him, your eyes heavy as you gave him a close-lipped smile. You lifted up your finger gun and blew the smoke coming out from the shots you just took.

“I am,” you answered, slurring, dangerous, a criminal, bad as just as him, all about the bad life, “Pewpew pew.”

I’ve missed you so much. Your eyes prickled with tears again, making Jaebum’s dark eyes widened at the emotion in your eyes.

“You’re...” your words got lost as you slurred more, finding it harder to say each word. You frowned remembering he wanted to drink but he hadn’t even taken a sip of the alcohol or had any of the chicken nuggets. Don’t you “like chicken nuggets?”

You used to love them before, your bottom lip quivered as a few tears spilt from your eyes. You missed Jaebum, you missed him so much.

You were so happy he was here.

You grabbed his hand and held it tight, before resting your head on your elbow. You’re just going to take a short little- no, not a nap. Just close your eyes for like one second, literally.

“You cried because I’m like chicken nuggets?” was the last thing you heard him whisper before you knocked out.

//

You groaned as you sat on the table the next morning. The sunshine was too bright, the world was spinning, and you felt like throwing up with every step you took. You steadied yourself in your seat, holding your hammering head in your hands as you held back the urge to throw up.

“Someone had a wild night,” Bambam commented getting into his seat.

Yugyeom sat beside him, smirking at your pain, “God, you’re pathetic, waitress.”

“Just because you’re not fun to be with alone doesn’t mean everyone else is too,” Mark came to your rescue sitting on the first chair on the right. Your gaze went to the seat Jaebum would occupy and internally groaned.

Why did you drink so much?

You had said so much; done so much.

Your stomach twisted when the memory of your softly caressing his soft cheek attacked your mind.

Oh, god, you were dead.

This is why you are having breakfast in the hall, and not in your bedroom like the other days.

You turned towards Mark, the hangover taking a backseat at the new terror lodging around you, “Why are we eating here today?”

“We have breakfast together every Thursdays,” he replied, and you eased back into your chair.

So, it wasn't for you. He didn't bring you out in front of everyone to shame you, or to kick you out. It was just a tradition, that’s fine.

No, it was not fine. You still had done and said all those things yesterday.

Omg, did you cry?

You cringed as the memory of the tears spilling from your eyes struck you this time. God, why were you like this?

Before you could curse yourself any longer, the remaining boys walked in. Jinyoung settled next to you giving you a polite smile, as Jackson and Youngjae got into their respective chairs.

You didn’t want to look at Jaebum due to your embarrassing behaviour last night, but you couldn’t help yourself. Your gaze travelled to him and your breath got caught in your chest.

He was so sinfully handsome. He was once again dressed in complete black with his hair pushed back, but a few longer strands flopped forward. He needed a haircut or his hair would no one be able to stay pushed back. But the long strands made him look even more devilish.

Jaebum didn’t glance at you once as he walked towards his seat. He didn’t refer to you or acknowledge your existence all through the breakfast.

None of the others did too, all busy talking about their business and all the things they had to do this week.

You tried to listen to get hints of what kind of businesses they were involved in, but all you heard was white-collar affairs.

“Are you going to get drunk today too?” Youngjae teased when he saw you push around your breakfast.

You glared up at him, and then Yugyeom who matched his mocking smirk. What did these two have against you?

“I’m not an alcoholic,” you retorted. The two rolled their eyes, but it was that little huff of amusement that came from the head of the table that made you freeze.

You turned your surprised eyes over to Jaebum, who tried to cover his chuckle with a cough. His dark gaze met yours, and when he realised you won’t give in and look away, his shoulders slumped slightly as he said, “Well, you have been drinking every day for the past few days.”

“How do you--”

“I know everything that happens in my house,” he cut you off.

The thing is you should be terrified of this Jaebum. You didn’t know what he was capable of. You knew your Jaebum would never hurt you, but you didn’t know the stranger before you. You didn't know what made him tick, what he did to punish or who he even was.

But you stared into his calculating eyes as you replied, “I got carried away yesterday.”

The corner of his lip quirked up ever so lightly as he said, “I could tell.”

You just glared at him as he picked up a chicken nugget from his plate and bit into it, not shifting his eyes from you. That asshole, he made the cooks make chicken nuggets just to mock you about last night. What a little piece of shit, challenging you while eating chicken nuggets.

You hated the way your body reacted to him though. You were supposed to feel anger and rage course through you. But the way he bit into the piece of meat and stared his fiery gaze into your eyes made you feel hot all over. You had never wished to be a chicken nugget more than you did at that moment.

“Maybe,” a voice said beside you, snapping you out from his trance. You turned to find Jinyoung looking over at Jaebum. Jaebum’s attention was on Jinyoung now, silently telling him to continue, “Y/n just needs a break.”

“She is on a break,” Yugyeom snorted.

Jinyoung ignored him and continued, “She has been stuck in her room for the past few days, and will continue to be for a while. You can’t blame her for getting bored and trying to get her mind off things.”

“So, what do you suggest?” Jaebum lifted a perfectly manicured eyebrow.

You turned to Jinyoung, taking in all his beauty as he stood in front of his boss and talked for you. Even without you telling him, somehow, he knew how you felt and how you would certainly lose your sanity if you stayed locked up in there for a moment longer.

You smiled softly at him as he said, “Let her work.”

You rose an eyebrow at Jinyoung asking him what the hell did he mean by letting me. Jinyoung blinked at your reassuringly as he nodded slightly, telling you to trust him.

“No way,” Jackson said, “We’ll have to babysit her there.”

“Fine,” Jinyoung shrugs, turning to Jaebum. “There is an opening in the company, and I hire her.”

“Bullshit-”

“-Is she even qualified?”

“You wouldn’t hire me?!”

Jinyoung clicked his tongue and silence fell over the room. He continued to look at Jaebum and said, “I did a background check on her. She has a business degree from an Ivy League university.”

The same one you went to, you bit your tongue from screaming towards Jaebum.

Well, it wasn't like you wanted the job. But it was better than being stuck here all day.

“She’ll leave soon and we will need a replacement, and it’s important business,” Yugyeom glared at you. “How can we trust that she won’t sell our information to other companies.”

“Ah,” Jinyoug sighed, nodding. You snapped your head towards him, betrayed. How could he do this? Wasn’t he on your side?

“I guess we’ll have to employ her around the house then,” he murmured, you narrowed your eyes at how insincere he sounded. You saw the false lightbulb go over his head, as he acted terribly surprised and exclaimed, “I know! She can help you with the Greenhouse, Jaebum!”

“No!” You both answer at the same time. You meet his gaze as he shoots lasers through them to kill you. You smirked at that and lean back. A smile spread over your lips before nodding enthusiastically at Jinyoung, “Oh that sounds perfect!”

Jinyoung looks down at you, grinning, “That’s settled then! She remains on the property and doesn’t get bored. Perfect.”

“Perfect,” you smirk, staring at the disdained male at the head of the table.

He said he couldn’t remember you.

You stabbed a slice of apple with your fork before chomping a big bite off, let’s see how much longer he can pretend.

[galoots]

Okay, tiny children Gladstone and Donald are adorable, but I need more baby Fethry...he's too cute!

“Ok Fethry.” Donald pulled the pom-pom of Fethry’s red woolen hat out of the baby’s mouth. “You be the baby and I’ll be the unca.”

“Baba ah!” Fethry babbled in response. 

“Perfect! Now I’m gonna put baby down for a nappie.” Donald grabbed a nearby blanket and spread it out on the floor. He lifted up his baby cousin the best he could and half-carried, half-dragged him over to the blanket. With the utmost care a five year old could muster, Donald cradled Fethry’s head and lay him down on the makeshift cradle. He pressed a kiss to Fethry’s head and softly stroked the few wispy strands of hair his cousin possessed. “Now I sing you a song.” Donald cleared his throat. “Rock-a-bye baby on the tree tops...” 

Fethry paid little attention to the lullaby his cousin sang to him, preferring instead to grab at his own feet. Capturing one of the crafty flippers, Fethry stuck his toes in his mouth. 

Donald was less than pleased. “No! Fethry you’re supposed to sleep now!” He jerked the tiny foot from Fethry’s mouth. 

“Nah!” Fethry cried angrily, punching a small balled fist off to the side in annoyance. 

“Donnie...” A stern voice warned. 

Oh uh. Busted. 

Scrooge kneeled by the babies and gently took Donald’s hand in his own. “We talked about this. You need to be gentle with your baby cousin.” 

“But, but, but,” Donald stammered. “He’s s’posed to be sleeping! He’s being a bad baby!”

Scrooge tutted softly. Quite the accusation, especially when levied by the duckling who never wanted to nap himself. “Fethry napped earlier. I know you want to play with your cousin, but maybe a different game would be better?” 

If there was one thing the toddler hated, it was not getting his way. He stood up and stomped away with cartoonish exaggeration. A pitiful pout graced his beak.  

“Dah?” Fethry exclaimed. 

Scrooge leaned closer to his youngest nephew and whispered conspiratorially. “Look’s like your cousin is in a huff again. Well we can have fun by ourselves until he cheers up, right?” 

Fethry shrieked with delight as Scrooge tickled him. The sound made Donald cast a forlorn glance their direction. The more Fethry laughed, the harder it was for Donald to maintain his bad mood. He wanted to make his cousin laugh too. 

Finally, it was too much to take and Donald forgot his bad mood. He launched himself from where he sat and rushed over to his giggling cousin. “No fair! I want to play with Fethry too!” He cried as he stumbled over his feet and collided into his uncle’s stooped figure. 

Fethry clapped his hands together at the sight. There never was a dull moment when Donald and Uncle Scrooge babysat. 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18119300/chapters/56859955

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[massagemayfair]

How Tantra Healed My Soul

My Name is Devi Ward and this is the totally absurd story of how practicing Tantric Sex healed my soul.

I was born in 1974, the result of an inter-racial marriage. My father is of African, European, & Native American ancestry (otherwise known as black). My mother is half Polish & half Czechoslovakian, blond, blue-eyed, aka white.

My parents were married in Detroit, Michigan in 1969, just 2 YEARS after inter-racial marriage was no longer considered a felony offense in many American states.

I grew up in Maryland, New Jersey, and Michigan. My parents divorced when I was 6, and I lived with mom in predominantly white, working-class neighborhoods, while she struggled to make ends meet as a single parent.

I am what is called a "hi-yella", my skin tone is very light, pale, even ivory colored at times. I burn easily, need sunscreen, and have sun-damage as a result of my negligence in this area. My hair on the other hand is nappy, very curly, unruly, and a white woman's nightmare!

Growing up, the images of feminine beauty that I aspired to all had long, flowing, straight, (usually) blond hair. All of my female friends were white, and boys liked them. Even in 3rd grade, they were considered "pretty", while I with the freakishly pale skin, nasty hair, and freckles was more than just an ugly duckling, I was a racial absurdity, and there was no one like me around for miles.

I was conditioned at a very young age to believe that white women were superior to me, and that white men were just plain superior. My life experiences confirmed this belief on a regular basis, and the images of beauty that I was and still am exposed to, continue to re-affirm this culturally conditioned belief.

And then, something extraordinary and completely unimagined occurred. I started practicing Tantra. Sex that is. I started practicing Tantric Sex. I started practicing CONSCIOUS SEX, meaning, I stopped chasing the romantic dream that had been spoon-fed to me through mainstream media as my "fulfillment", and I chose to explore sexuality as a path of self-realization, self-awareness, and self-empowerment.find more info  london tantric

I began to experience levels of pleasure that were indescribable. I literally lost my mind, and entered altered states of consciousness, that were generated by physical-sexual-bliss.

I began unlocking emotional traumas that had crystalized in my body, and had severely inhibited my sense of self- confidence and self-worth as a woman.

Seemingly minor traumas such as; being described as repulsively ugly by these pretty white boys that society treated as young gods.

Doors that had previously been locked flew open, as a result of awakening to sensations of sexual bliss that are beyond description. Beyond the rational workings of my conscious mind, into the as yet untapped depth of my subconscious, that which was hidden before rose to the surface, as a result of engaging the shadow of my sexuality...consciously.

I began to heal from wounds that I did not even know I had. I began to reclaim sexual awareness... and awareness is POWER! I wish that I could convey in words the depth and profundity of personal healing that has occurred simply as a result of practicing Tantric Sex.

It seems ridiculous, it seems absurd that SEX, SEX, conscious SEX could lead to the complete healing of wounds that were so deep and so painful, that I was unable to see them directly, and the scope of their effect upon my life and my choices.

What I discovered through Tantra, of all the weird and bizarre things, is that racism is a cultural condition. It is a program that is introduced to us as a society on an almost imperceptible level, and maintained, reinforced again & again by mainstream media, and our cultural orientation as a whole.

Unless you are on the receiving end of the equation, you will never understand the effect of it. Never. Just as those who have experienced the emotionally crippling effects of living in a culture indoctrinated with racism, will never understand what it is like to live without it's shadow.

As a result of unraveling my social and cultural conditioning in relationship to sexual acceptance and normalcy, I began to unravel a much deeper level of subtle programing relating to race and social acceptance. As I became sexually free and empowered, sexually satisfied and celebrated, a much deeper level of suffering became apparent, and the ways in which I had been sensually repressed as a woman became glaringly obvious. The ways in which that occurred because of my race became even more so.

The divinely beautiful irony is that, the catalyst for all of this epic growth was the result of being brutally rejected by one of those superior white men, that I oh so adored, but could never quite convince of my worth.

I was in fact "dismissed", to make way for "the great white goddess", a woman I would always and forever fall short, according to my racial programming.

Day after day I was confronted head on with the internal belief of my inherent inferiority.

For I am not white, blond, wealthy, beautiful, and socially well adjusted. I am light skinned, nappy haired, beautiful yes, but socially mal-adjusted, and definitely NOT normal! I live on the "fringes" of society and have yet to experience social acceptance at the level of mainstream white society.

Nor do I ever aspire to at this point. I have earned my freedom from the mainstream mind, and I intend to keep it.

I am now married to a white man, who through his love and emotional acceptance, has become my best friend, and my healer on many levels. We consider ourselves "poly-amorous", we have the ability to love many, not just the romantic dream of one.

This for me is another example of healing and empowerment, for instead of hoarding and owning his love out of fear of scarcity or lack, as my partners friend, I truly desire his love and happiness, as well as my own.

We accept that though we may fill many needs for each other, we don't fill all of them, and we celebrate and uphold our individual freedom to meet needs for connection, expression and joy with others and in other ways.

I continue to find it absurd that the deepest most profound healing of my life resulted from the simple practices of sexual communication, eye-contact, genital massage, and semen retention. It's stupid that something as obvious as SEX, could be a gateway to such internal emancipation.

[breathlester]

Play date

pairing: dan howell/phil lester

summary: Dan and Phil need a night off parenthood duties, so they leave their baby son with Phil’s mum and make reservations at a nice restaurant. Only things don’t really go to plan…

genre/themes: parenting, fluff, smut

content warnings: mild sexual content

“Y’know-,” Phil says mid yawn and stretched halfway across the table. “Y’know what we need?”

Dan doesn’t respond, face hanging so low above his mug of coffee he’s inhaling it rather than drinking.

It’s seven in the morning and neither of them have slept for more than three hours.

There was a time when three hours of sleep would have been fine with them. There was also a time when getting up at seven would have been intolerable - at least for Dan - but those times have passed, and though neither of them says it, they are both immensely thankful for this short while of peace and quiet that only the early morning grants them.

Phil tries again, this time lifting his face off his arms. “Dan, you know what we need?“

The other man makes a grumbling noise, not looking up. His hair is a mess of tangled brown curls and his lids are so heavy Phil can barely make out his eyes.

“We need a day off,” he declares.

There are two bowls of cereal on the table in front of them that Phil has managed to pour in his overtired state. He’s forgotten milk and spoons, which proves handy now as Dan extends one hand and shows a bunch of dry cereal into his mouth.

Phil listens to the crunch, crunch of his teeth, then his inevitable cough as he swallows too many shreddies at a time.

“You think?,” Dan replies finally, lifting his mug with a shaking hand to take a careful sip.

His brown eyes blink at Phil, small and blood-shot.

Phil drapes one arm across the high-chair next to him to be able to interlace their fingers, cracking the first tiny smile of the day as Dan’s wedding band presses cold against his skin.

For a while neither of them says anything else, as Dan sips his coffee in silence and Phil is content for the moment playing with his fingers, his head resting on the table again.

He doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until said fingers weave through his hair and tickle him awake.

A mewling noise slips off his tongue and he frowns, hearing Dan giggle softly. It takes the greatest effort to crack his eyes open again and he yawns so wide he can feel his jaw click unpleasantly.

“Did you hear what I said?,” Dan asks, seeming slightly more awake now that he’s had his daily dose of caffeine. “I think you’re right. We do need a day off. And a night, for that matter. We haven’t slept through in a week.“

Phil smiles up at him, feeling giddy at the mere idea, until doubts and a sense of guilt seep into his mind. “Are you sure we can do that, though? Just leave him with somebody? Wouldn’t he get -“

Dan interrupts him before he can start to obsess. “Phil, he’ll be fine. He’s been without us before, remember?“

“You mean when we were sent on a BBC thing late at night and he was supposed to stay with my mum until the next day but you got so anxious we drove all the way up north afterwards and picked him up at 4 in the morning?“

Dan blushes and looks down, fiddling with his cuticles. “Yeah, well, he was only a baby then. Now he’s a toddler and we know better.“

Phil catches his hand and pulls it away, up to his mouth so he can kiss Dan’s maltreated fingernails as a silent ‘don’t do that’.

“Let’s call my mum later?,” he suggests. “She’s been meaning to visit us in a while; we could have her over for dinner tomorrow and let her take Charlie home. Then we can take off Friday and go up north on the weekend. I haven’t seen my dad in a bit anyway.“

Dan closes his eyes and sighs happily as Phil’s lips move to the back of his hand, pressing a soft kiss there.

“Sounds like a plan. We should probably give her a fair warning though…“

-

“Sounds to me like he’s moving on to his defiant phase now,” Kath says on the phone. “You boys better prepare yourself for some mean temper tantrums.“

Dan’s slouched on the sofa, forming a new crease on their fairly new piece of furniture. He’d brushed off Phil’s attempts at critique with the argument that he needed to break it in.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. The paediatrician said so, too. The terrible twos and all.“

“Oh, Phil was bad with those. I don’t quite know how I survived.“

Dan bites back a grin, watching Phil stack lego towers on the lounge floor, looking quite a bit more enthusiastic about the building exercise than their small son who’s sat next to him. “Was he? I can hardly see that.“

„Yeah, he’s playing Mr Innocent now. You’d better watch him with Charlie though, I have a feeling he might turn out just as indulgent as his dad used to be. It’s no good for a child to be spoiled.“

Phil looks up questioningly when he feels Dan’s eyes on him. Dan puts him off with a wave of his hand, but Phil pushes out his lower lip and reaches out one hand for the phone.

Dan chuckles. „Speaking of two-year olds – your thirty-two year old is pouting at me because he wants to talk to you.“

She laughs. Dan can hear her clanking with pots. „Ah, that sounds like him. Well, then, Dan. It’s been nice chatting with you! I suppose I’ll sort out the details with him?“

„Yeah, alright. See you soon!“ Dan straightens his back, stiffling a moan as he hears it crack, and gets off the couch to hand the receiver to his husband.

„Hey, mum!“ Phil’s face lights up immediately as it always does when he’s talking to his family. Not like Dan’s jealous, because he knows he’s part of that.

And someone else is as well, for nearly two years now.

„Hey, duck“, he says softly, crouching down next to the infant. „You’re building a nice house, yeah?“

Charlie looks up at him, dark blue eyes wide and honest. „Daddy build house.“

In front of him, Phil has constructed a small tower of blocks. Dan smiles, settling down cross-legged. „Yes, daddy was building one just now, you’re right. But let’s bet you and I can build an even better one, huh? One just like the one we live in?“

As Phil reclines on the sofa, Dan picks up a yellow brick and holds it out to Charlie. „What colour’s this one?“

-

It’s the morning after dinner with Kath and Phil is a nervous wreck.

„And you’re sure you’ve got everything you need? Nappies, toys, his blanket -“

He reaches out to check the baby bag for the third time, but his mother stops him.

“Philip, I’m not an old woman, I promise you I haven’t forgotten anything. Besides, Martyn’s left some of Sophia’s things, including a potty that Charlie can use.“

“I’m sorry, I’m just trying to make sure.“

She reaches out to pat his cheek. “Since when have you become the over-anxious one? Wasn’t it Dan last time who rang me out of bed in the wee hours?“

“Hey, I’ve improved since!“ Dan emerges from the nursery down the hall with a warmly dressed Charlie in his arms.

Kath’s face lights up like a christmas tree at the sight. “Aww, look at you, little man! All dressed up! The neighbours are going to be so jealous, Mrs Hudson’s granddaughter isn’t half as charming as you are.“

Dan laughs, tugging on the jacket his son’s wearing. “I know, right? Phil found it online. It’s got a duck’s bill on the hood and a tail and everything.“

“Me ducky“, Charlie voices confidently, causing Dan to press a kiss to the side of his face.

“Yes, you’re a little duckling, aren’t you, sweetheart?” he coos, smoothing down Charlie’s feathery locks of ginger hair.

Two years ago, Dan would have cringed at words like these, but now look at me, he thinks, gone all mushy and soft. And he’s not even ashamed of it. If it’s true that fatherhood changes people, it’s certainly brought out the best in him and Phil, and they wouldn’t have it any other way, even if lately Charlie has cost them their good night’s sleep more often than not.

The boy calls for his granny, and Dan passes him on to her after one last kiss to his cheek.

Phil observes with a smile how his mother greets the two-year-old, lifting him up and joggling him softly until he giggles.

Dan’s arm snakes around his waist, chin coming to rest on his shoulder; a touch that reassures him without words, ‘don’t worry, it’ll be fine.’

“I’ll best be off then,” Kath says, the baby bag slung over her shoulder and Charlie stood next to her contently holding on to her hand. “Before traffic gets too crazy. You boys enjoy yourselves, yeah?“

She eyes them with a smile playing in the corner of her mouth.

Phil goes red in the face, about to say something when Dan bursts out, “Oh, right! The baby seat!“, and runs off again to fetch it.

-

At five in the afternoon, Dan stumbles out of the shower and wraps himself in a towel. Phil’s playing Muse in his bedroom while getting dressed. He’s banned Dan from the room as if this was their wedding all over again.

It’s good though, it makes Dan feel giddy and even more excited for the night. They’ve reserved a table at a nice place in London they haven’t been to in a while. Living on the outskirts, they rarely visit central London now except for the BBC.

But tonight they will, and considering the traffic they should leave in about half an hour if they want to be on time, Dan realizes with a glance at his phone.

He dries himself off and puts on his clothes – a semi-formal black suit and a white dress shirt, because how long has it been since they’ve had a proper date? Just as he’s done straightening his hair with extra care, Phil calls for him from the hall.

He’s leaning against the wall next to the door, checking his phone as Dan walks up to him.

And fuck, this is one of those moments Dan wants to pat his own shoulder for getting this gorgeous man to marry him.

Phil’s wearing a slim grey suit and the azure blue shirt Dan got him for his last birthday that matches his eyes perfectly. His hair is pushed back casually into a quiff, there’s a subtle waft of his cologne in the air, and Dan wants to eat him up.

“Good, you’re ready.” Phil’s eyes dance over Dan’s frame and he smiles before looking back down on his phone. “Shall we go then? I was thinking we could take a walk along the Thames before, since the restaurant’s right there. You know, work up a bit of an appetite and all that”, he rambles on, taking no note of Dan’s change of mood.

“Oh, I’ve already got quite an appetite, to be honest,” Dan remarks and Phil finally looks up, picking up on his suggestive undertone.

Dan meets his stare, smirking although his heart is beating slightly too fast. Saundering towards him with his hands pushed into his pockets, he allows his eyes to wander as well.

“God, you’re a feast for the eyes, aren’t you,” he says in a low voice once he comes to stand in front of Phil, watching with satisfaction how Phil’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard.

“Dan…”

Dan ignores him, reaching out to smooth the collar of his suit jacket, then grabs his tie to pull him close. Phil’s breath hitches, his eye lids fluttering closed, and Dan can’t lie, he definitely enjoys the little whine his husband gives when he draws out the moment before the kiss.

“I’ve always wanted to do that”, Dan admits, tugging softly again on Phil’s tie to emphasize his words, before Phil lets out a moan and takes the initiative, leaning in to crash his mouth against Dan’s.

Dan flicks his tongue against Phil’s bottom lip, then takes it between his teeth, and Phil’s hands capture his face. When he tips his head to deepen the kiss, Dan wraps his arms around his waist and pulls him flush against his body.

Phil groans, attempting to pull back, which only causes Dan’s mouth to leave his and press tiny kisses to the underside of his jaw instead.

“Dan – we’re going to – be late,” he manages to croak out.

“Oh, screw the walk to the restaurant, Phil, don’t pretend you hadn’t got this in mind when you said we needed a night off,” Dan mutters against the soft spot beneath Phil’s ear, making him shiver.

He sucks a patch of skin into his mouth, biting into it softly, and Phil’s hands slip to his shoulders, fingers digging into his suit jacket. “Don’t l-leave marks,” he warns him, head leant against the wall to allow Dan better access nonetheless.

Dan moves to nibble on his earlobe, causing Phil to whimper softly. He kisses his way down Phil’s neck, fingers fiddling with the upmost button of his shirt. When he manages to pop it open, he pulls Phil’s shirt to the side so he can latch his lips onto the joint between Phil’s shoulder and neck.

Phil whines, running his hands down Dan’s arms in search for something to hold on to. As Dan pulls back to admire the purple mark he’s created, conveniently hidden beneath Phil’s shirt, Phil pushes him against the door.

“We should really leave,” he says, palms pressed flat against the door to both sides of Dan’s head, “if we want to make it on time.”

His cheeks are flushed, his hair is starting to come loose and his lips are red and swollen.

“Who needs dinner when I can have you?,” Dan murmurs, head cocked to the side, glancing up at Phil from beneath his lashes.

“That such a sentence should come from your mouth,” Phil huffs in amusement, still keeping a fair distance between their bodies.

“More than that shall come from my mouth,” Dan smirks and Phil gasps.

"Dan.”

He chuckles, watching intently as Phil exhales heavily, then bows his head until their foreheads touch.

They stare into each other’s eyes for a bit, basking in the simple fact that they’re able to. No child is going to start crying in the background and disrupt the moment, no child is going to walk in on them doing something he shouldn’t see.

They’re alone. And fuck, if they aren’t going to make the most of it.

The next kiss is soft and slow, composed of Dan’s arms around Phil’s neck and Phil’s smile against his lips.

“Love you,” Phil sighs as Dan winds a strand of hair around his finger and tugs on it. As a reply, Dan pushes his thigh between Phil’s legs and breaks the kiss so he can whisper into his ear.

“Say that again.”

A moan tumbles off Phil’s tongue. “D-dan – love y-”

Dan doesn’t let him finish, pulling his fingers out of Phil’s hair and snatching his wrists in his hands in one quick movement. He sucks Phil’s bottom lip into his mouth, revelling in the way Phil thrusts his hips against him eagerly. Interlocking their fingers, he lets go of Phil’s lip.

“Want to take this to the bedroom?”

-

It’s dark and quiet when Dan comes to.

He feels so warm and relaxed it takes him a bit to orientate. He stretches, then flinches as he becomes aware of the soreness in his lower back.

Steady, gentle breaths to his right.

He turns, moving closer to the source of the breaths and the source of body heat, trying to recollect his memory.

Hot breath against his neck.

“You smell like cinnamon and apples.”

“New shower gel.”

A flick of tongue, a sharp inhale.

“Hmm… I like it.”

Soft giggles, muffled by skin.

Oh, right. There was that. Well, that might explain why his ass hurts.

Dan almost laughs at himself. Between their demanding jobs and their even more demanding two-year-old, they’ve gone without sex for so long he’s nearly forgotten what it feels like to wake up afterwards.

But god, was it worth the pain. He closes his eyes again, revelling in the memory.

The sound of skin slapping against skin.

Forgotten words whispered into his ear.

Phil’s hands holding on to his shoulders too hard, not hard enough.

The feeling of heat pooling in his stomach, legs wrapped tightly around Phil.

Breathy moans, high-pitched begging, fingernails scratching flushed skin.

The final thrust, the touch of Phil’s hand that sends him over the edge.

And then bliss – Phil curling up next to him – panting breath, a kiss to his cheek –

He blinks as someone yawns and shifts next to him.

Right, Phil.

He looks so lovely with his hair ruffled and no clothes on, Dan thinks, and I’m the only one who gets to see him like this. A smug smile spreading over his face, he reaches out to wrap one arm around his husband.

Phil reacts by snuggling up to him, face pressed into Dan’s shoulder.

“Hi,” he mutters, voice soft and slurred.

Dan chuckles and presses a kiss to the top of his head. “Hi, love. Sleep well?”

“Hmm…”

He’s ready to happily settle back in and drift off again when one thought rises from the back of his mind, claiming his attention.

“Oh, shit.”

At first he wants to slap himself, but then he just throws his head back and laughs, because fuck it, this was worth it.

Phil looks up at him, his wide, puzzled eyes replicating the expression on Dan’s face. “Dan?”

It takes him a few minutes to stop laughing. “Phil,” he chokes out, breaking off into a hiccup. Tears are sliding down his cheeks, and Phil reaches out automatically to wipe them away.

“What? What is it, Dan? You’re scaring me.”

Dan bites his bottom lip to force the laughter to subside, cradling Phil’s face in his hands.

“Phil, we had dinner reservations,” he says finally, like it’s the funniest thing in the world.

But actually, the funniest thing must be Phil’s face as realization hits him.

“No,” he says slowly.

“Yes,” Dan replies, still chuckling.

“No,” Phil repeats, sitting up and reaching across Dan. “Give me my phone. What time is it?”

Dan finds it on the bedside table and unlocks it, promptly beginning to laugh again. Phil pries the phone away from his hands.

His eyes grow even wider. It’s hilarious.

“Fuck!” he exclaims, throwing the sheets off. “Why won’t you stop laughing? Dan, we’ve got to get dressed, maybe if we hurry we can still make it!”

“Phil, I’m moderately sure they’ve given our table to someone else by now,” Dan says, watching Phil climb out of bed to put on his boxers.

“Why? It’s not seven yet, I mean we’ll probably be a bit late but we can call in and -”

Dan shakes his head, sitting up as well. “Phil – Phil, wait. Phil!”

“What?!” Phil cries out, exasperated and half-dressed. He’s got his underwear on backwards.

“It’s half past six in the morning, not at night!”

-

“Stop laughing already!”

Phil hits him across the head with his pillow.

Dan rolls over on to his back, still choking back laughter. “You have to admit it’s funny!”

“It’s not! I really wanted to go there, Dan!” He looks genuinely upset.

Dan raises one eyebrow. “Are you saying you would have rather gone to this restaurant than have sex with me?”

Phil looks at him uncertainly for a moment. “Yes?”

Dan huffs and turns away from him. “I’ll just pretend I didn’t hear that.”

He’s mostly faking, but it serves to finally get Phil’s mind off their missed reservation.

His arms snake around Dan’s waist from behind, lips brushing his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy the night, though.”

Dan grins, pushing his bum out to earn a gasp from Phil.

“Yeah, I had the feeling you were enjoying yourself quite a bit there, just like your mum told us to.”

“Shut up,” Phil says, pulling back one hand to pinch him, albeit gently.

They settle into silence again, curled up comfortably until Dan mutters, “There’s one disadvantage though. I’m fucking starved.”

Phil groans in agreement. “Pizza would be amazing right now.”

Dan giggles. “It’s seven in the morning. I’m pretty sure they don’t deliver before noon.”

“I think we still have some in the freezer,” Phil murmurs sleepily into his neck.

“Are you serious?” Dan frees himself from Phil’s embrace and sits up, pushing back the duvet. “Then why exactly are we still in bed? Come on, move! It’s time for breakfast!”

Ignoring Phil’s protest, he strolls to the door, swaying his hips as he’s aware of Phil’s eyes following him.

“Don’t you wanna put some clothes on?” Phil asks, the corners of his mouth curled upwards.

“Why?”, Dan replies, eyebrows raised. “Charlie’s not here. Or does it bother you?”

They look at each other for a moment.

Then Phil grins.

“Go preheat the oven, I’ll be right there.”

*** this used to be on my ao3 page (softiejace). i’m taking my phan content down from there for personal reasons but reposting it here so people can still enjoy it :) ***

[rosemehdee]

Me, minding my own business, listening to schoolhouse rock songs bc they slap and bring back pleasant memories:

Youtube: oh??? you're 5 years old???? how about watching the ugly duckling next?? or the 3 little pigs??? peppa pig?????? you need a nappy nap? or a juice box perhaps?

[noivern]

would u recommend goose care for the layperson. are geese difficult to care for or are they chill

no lmao

he’s a fuckign feathery nightmare who’s extremely needy, wants to be in the house pooping and putting feathers everywhere constantly, wants to kill the dogs all the time and screams at the drop of a hat

i love him and wouldnt change a thing

[hufflepuffmarlenemckinnon]

Letters from Spring Term 1981

An Excerpt from my Novel-Length Fanfic The Dog and the Duckling

Summary: Sirius is assigned to mentor Marlene Mckinnon when she joins The Order of the Phoenix. His perceptions of Hufflepuff house are drastically changed, and so is his life.

Rated Teen mostly for language and innuendo.

A/N: So most everyone who follows me will have gathered that I headcanon Marlene as Duck animagus for a lot of the fic I write. I decided to put some of the backstory of that up on Tumblr in case anyone was curious. I’ll keep these blurbs listed in chronological order on my Fic Masterlist.   Letters from Spring 1981 Dearest Sirius,

I’ve only been back at school for two weeks but I feel the sting of your absence more acutely than before. I guess that’s what I get for twisting your wand to kiss me. It’s a bit like if you’d never tasted treacle tart because you lived in some sort of desolate wasteland entirely devoid of treacle tart. Except you went on holiday to the land of treacle tart and now that you’re back home you feel a terrible void in the pit of your stomach where the treacle tart should be. I hope you enjoy that metaphor because now I find myself not only unkissed but hungry as well.

This reminds me, I have not yet told you of my most recent scrape with your very favorite person, Argus Filch. You have noted before that the key to a Hufflepuff having a good time is the kitchens. I was proving you right by enlisting the elves to bake gillyweed brownies, both for the personal enjoyment of myself and my dorm mates, and for attempting to share with unsuspecting professors. Sounds like a good use of a Saturday, right? It would have been if not for one serious flaw in my plans. The Hogwarts Elves are happy to prepare whatever I ask for and with whatever ingredients I provide, but they are the absolute worst at keeping it under wraps. So of course when Filch was lurking about, looking for fun to ruin, he smelled something suspicious in the kitchens and when he inquired of course those big eared baked good providing twits up and told him it was for me.

Luckily I get to serve my detention with Professor Sprout. She wasn’t even mad that I nicked her gillyweed. And I don’t mind helping her tend to her plants. The only real downside is the 6th year Ravenclaw who serves detention with me. Gilderoy Lockhart.  He’s in detention for carving out his own name in 20 foot letters on the Quidditch pitch and then sending up an image of his own face into the sky. That tells you just about all there is to know about Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart. Nonetheless, it’s a distraction from how much I miss you.

Do you think it would warrant sneaking into Hogwarts as Padfoot just to satisfy my overwhelming desire to kiss you again (and again and again…)? If you don’t I may get into even more trouble and I’ll break your record for most detentions in a single term. I know you hate to be shown up.

I love you more than is rational or good for my health.

-Your Devoted Duck, otherwise known as

Marlene Elfrida McKinnon

Dearest Duckling-

Your last letter shows a reckless disregard for the rules. I can’t even pretend I’m not impressed. And a little turned on.

I’m terribly sorry that you found yourself thwarted by the most Esteemed and Noble Caretaker, His Royal Filchness. Perhaps he would have benefited from your gillyweed brownies most of all, if you’d been generous enough to share with the likes of him. I wonder if argus Filch has ever had a fun time in his life.

Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart of Ravenclaw House sounds like a lively character. At least you haven’t been stuck with someone boring? Though I can imagine hearing him drone on about his own reflection would get tedious after the hilarity of it wore off. Is this the same poncey kid who sent himself 800 valentine’s back in my 7th Year? The name sounds familiar and I can imagine that kid progressing to gimmicks involving his own face in the sky.

Though I am loathe to be the cause of your expulsion, I find it impossible to say no to my little duck, I think I can probably manage to meet you by the willow like before, This coming Thursday after curfew. This time with less brewing difficult potions and more kissing. Use the map.

I love you more than Filch loves his cat,

-Your Sirius

Dearest Sirius,

Your last letter sounded really bleak. I’m sorry that I’m not there to bear the brunt of this war with you. I wish I’d left school early. I know it sounds nonsensical, because I’ve always gotten high marks, but I feel like it’s all so pointless when the world looks like it does. What does it matter if I get a transfiguration NEWT when we’re on the brink of a full on death eater takeover? I’ve come this far though and it’s only a few more months.

Which reminds me, I’ll have Easter week off as per usual and I wondered if I could come stay with you? I’d much prefer it that way. Staying at school is an option of course, and I could stay with my mum and dad. I just thought after last holiday it would be nice to have some time together where we aren’t interrupted by my various family members every 5 minutes. We weren’t really alone together at any point during that visit. Was that intentional? You’ll let me know what you think about my staying with you. I’m only about a meter and a half tall, thus I don’t take up much space. The only thing is that my hair has been known to attack.

Carolyn is still waxing lyrical about Mr. F. Prewett, despite your generously arranging for the pair to be at the same place at the same time. Now she refuses to shut up about how shiny his hair is up close. It is rather shiny. Much shinier than her fervent admirer, Barty Crouch Jr. His hair is not shiny in the least. He’s actually sort of creepy. I know his dad is the head of MLE and all, but he seems to be coming unhinged. He should probably join a drama troupe or something and get the attention that he clearly craves. Whatever he does, I hope it involves staying away from my friend. I put my best effort into dissuading his continued pestering just recently. This effort earned me a week of detentions.

Sometimes I think Professor McGonagall gives me detention just because she enjoys my company. I wish she would just ask me to tea or something. I’m feeling very persecuted. I’ve never once been caught in a broom cupboard tryst or the like (because you didn’t know that I existed when you were in school. Tragic). I’ve hardly ever blown anything up. Yet I’ve gotten 4 separate weeks of detentions with Professor McGonagall for various offenses this year. Then another 2 with Sprout. All I did this time was make Crouch grow bright pink hair out of his ears and nose if he got within 3 meters of Carolyn. Which inevitably he did. It was actually a fun bit of magic and I think McGonagall was secretly a little impressed. She asked after you yesterday. She said that you probably could benefit from a Hufflepuff in your life. I decided to take that as a compliment. She clearly has a soft spot for you. It’s sweet and all but could you please tell your other girlfriend to stop giving me these unjust detentions?

I miss you. If you were here I’d drag you to a broom cupboard and earn a 7th week of detentions.

I love you more than Gilderoy Lockhart loves Gilderoy Lockhart,

-Your Marlene

Dearest Duckling-

As far as your Easter holiday is concerned, you know that I’d never say no. I’ve already started a countdown that caused james to make a face. He’s probably just jealous because his life is consumed with changing nappies and being a responsible adult and I get to be young and in love.

I’ve spoken to Minerva about her subjecting you to All these detentions. You appear to be correct that she’s enjoying your time together. She says we are well matched and she approves but that if we should ever have a child that she’s retiring from the teaching profession.

Would our hypothetical offspring be a puppy or a duckling? Perhaps something in between? Would that be a niffler? That sounds about right. Nifflers can really cause a ruckus and perhaps Minerva would be right to avoid being subjected to that. Of course this is all assuming that you’d even want to have my nifflers. (That’s a sentence I never envisioned myself writing.)

On a graver note, I heard just yesterday about the disappearance of Gawain’s Fiancée and I felt sick. Edgar is clearly doing all he can, but it angers me that magical Law Enforcement refuses to devote any resources to investigating the disappearance of a squib. I told Gawain that I was willing to help in any way that I could. You might remind him that I genuinely mean that. I’m not above going on a mission that was not expressly assigned by Dumbledore. Your family is the biggest lot of Badgers I’ve ever encountered and i love them. Even Gawain.

I need to get back to work, James is giving me a look.

I love you and miss you to an undignified degree,

Sirius

[amandamillie]

Literally pure unimaginable joy is what this boy has brought into our lives. He’s changed so much over these 4 months and I can see so much personality coming through. My ever smiling happy little duckling! Bathtime has become quite the game for him. You would think the entire bathroom has been flooded all cos of this one’s splishing and splashing. 😅 We love the @kitandkinuk baby oil for a little bedtime massage. Always seems to get him super relaxed and ready for dreamland. I’m very careful about what I put on his skin and love that this oil is only made from natural ingredients. Don’t forget you can use my discount code AMANDA20 to get 20% off one time purchases of nappies/nappy pants, wipes, sacks and skincare and also 20% off your first subscription order. . . . . . . . . . #gifted #ecofriendly #kitandkin #brandambassador #environmentallyconscious #channelmumvillage #homebirth #homebirthbaby #blasianbaby #mixedbabyboy #4thtrimester #positivebirthmovement #breastfeeding #amandamillie #babyboy👶 #interracialbabies #4monthsoldbaby #breastfeedingmama — view on Instagram http://bit.ly/2UOYbvb

[alsbrainblog]

Learning

I’m going to start with a fundamental aspect of our brains: learning. If our brains didn’t quietly restructure themselves based on our actions, we would react the same way to stimuli no matter how times we experienced them. This way lies extinction.

From birth, most organisms have a number of learning methods, based within the intricacies of our neurons and synapses, that allow us to become more energy-efficient, knowledgeable of our environments, and more capable of catching prey/avoiding predators, for example.

I promise not to get too technical, but I’m going to briefly run over the main types of learning. I find it enjoyable to pinpoint which types of learning apply to the different behaviours and skills I’ve picked up since I was born; give it a try...

(I’m not ashamed to admit that Wikipedia was my friend here)

Habituation

Imagine an adorable little lamb. It’s new to the world and pretty much everything startles it: a gust of wind, for example, and our lamb runs straight back to its mother, trembling. Imagine if it kept this up all its life. The energy wasted running in fear at the slightest thing; it really isn’t efficient.

(fanpop.com)

Enter habituation. This is a form of non-associative learning (simply put: a change in one’s response to a single repeated event, rather than associating separate events) and helps organisms shed some ‘useless’ reflexes they may possess. No longer will the lamb fear the wind. However, habituation will not occur when the threat is real: the lamb will still fear the wolf.

Sensitisation

Here’s another form of non-associative learning. Sensitisation is simply the reverse of habituation: the more we are exposed to a stimulus, the larger the neural response. Imagine you rub your arm, feels normal right? If you keep rubbing your arm extensively, you will start to sense pain in the area. Your peripheral nerves have warned your brain that this prolonged stimulation is painful via heightened response. Then you’d feel pretty stupid. Sensitisation can bring back a response that may have been habituated, if the circumstances change.

Classical Conditioning

Classical conditioning is fairly well-known due to Pavlov’s experiments with his dogs, and is a case of associative learning. In case you’re unfamiliar, the famous experiment involved Ivan Pavlov preparing his dogs’ dinner and observing their salivation (a natural response of a hungry dog who smells its dinner). Pavlov would eventually pair the smell of dinner with the ringing of a bell.

Food smell --> salivate                       (naturally)

Food smell + bell ring --> salivate      (simple enough)

Pavlov did this enough so that the dogs had been conditioned to associate the bell ring with their dinner. Just like my golden retrievers grew to associate the word “walkies!” with their walks; if I had been a cruel child, I could have shouted that magic word and got them excited without walking them whatsoever. Here lies the crux of classical conditioning: once this association had been made, Pavlov rang the bell (unconditional stimulus) and watched the dogs salivate (unconditional reflex) without any sight or smell of food (conditional stimulus).

Bell ring --> salivate                           (what mind trickery is this?!)

This may sound cruel, but it isn’t a surprise coming from Pavlov’s lab. This interesting New Yorker article (http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2014/11/24/drool)                             looks at Pavlov’s extreme experiments and how he used his dogs as machines to be tested and operated on, with little concern for their well-being. Anyway, that’s a topic for another time.

(comic by Mark Stivers)

Operant Conditioning

I find operant conditioning, another form of associative learning, easy to confuse with classical conditioning. However, this one is more straightforward. When a behaviour leads to a positive outcome, we are more likely to exhibit that behaviour again; if it leads to a negative outcome, we are less likely to. Easy.

Giving your dog a treat when he sits down for you? He’s more likely to obey you next time: that’s operant conditioning. Giving a mouse a small electric shock when she presses a button? She’s less likely to press that button again: that’s operant conditioning. Praising your kid when she uses a potty rather than a nappy? You get the idea.

Imprinting

The final form of learning that I’m going to talk about is imprinting: this is a fun one. The big example that comes to mind is the Austrian scientist, Konrad Lorenz, and his work with geese. Lorenz gave the term ‘imprinting’ to the behaviour shown by newly-hatched goslings (amongst other birds), where they mentally ‘latch on’ to and follow the first moving object they see once hatched. What should ideally be their mother, can easily be a human who was nearby during the hatching - and thus a person can be followed by a string of tiny goslings they assume is their primary caregiver.

Imprinting explains why we see ducklings follow their mothers so diligently, and occurs rapidly, allowing offspring to stay safe with their parent upon hatching. Biologists will often wear bird outfits when dealing with goslings, and feed them using puppets, so as to avoid them imprinting on humans. Isn’t that amazing? Also, the Italian hang-glider pilot, Angelo d’Arrigo used his hang-glider to cause threatened birds to imprint on him and subsquently be reintroduced to the wild. I’d say that was an uplifting story but the level of pun is too much, even for me.

(http://www.pbs.org)

There we have it. I hope I haven’t scared people off with such a long post, and I don’t think I’ve been too technical. I just find it fascinating to be able to trim the daunting topic of ‘learning’ down into these distinctive and definable methods that help humans and animals alike grow to be functioning, well-adapted adults (or mature sea anemones, I’m not picky).

[news4me]

Orville and Emu: British TV's famous puppets go on sale

Orville and Emu: British TV’s famous puppets go on sale

[ad_1]

Image caption Rod Hull’s Emu often caused mayhem, playfully attacking celebrities including interviewer Michael Parkinson

Two of British TV’s most famous puppets – Orville the Duck and Emu – are going on sale at auction.

Orville, a cheeky green duckling wearing a nappy, was a regular on television during the 1980s and 1990s, alongside ventriloquist…

[galoots]

Donald tries his hand at running away. He doesn’t get very far. 

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

Donald struggled with the latch of his Teletubby suitcase. Usually, Scrooge would secure the clasps for the toddler, but today that was not an option.

             For today, Donald was on the run. 

Finally managing to close his suitcase, Donald reviewed the events that had lead him to this moment. That morning, in the hustle and bustle of leaving for work, his unca had only given him one kiss goodbye instead of his normal two. Such a grievous oversight was inexcusable, and to Donald’s young mind this mistake had clearly signaled he could tarry in this home no longer. He wasn’t stupid. He knew when he wasn’t wanted. So he had decided to run away.

             While he watched Barney on the telly and sullenly drank chocolate milk from his sippy cup, he had silently plotted his great escape. After Duckworth put him down for his mid-morning nap, he would sneak from his bed and pack his bags. He’d finished packing his suitcase with all the important tools to survive on his own out there in the great, wide yonder. His baby blanket, his favorite toy, a juice box, and a dozen of freshly baked cookies that Duckworth had left cooling on the counter. Rolling the bag behind him, Donald tiptoed out of his room. He peered around corners for Duckworth. When the coast was clear, Donald scrambled for the front door and burst out into the daylight. The door softly shut behind him and Donald took a moment to catch his breath on the front steps of his home. Or, his former home.

             Life wouldn’t be easy out there with no unca kisses or Duckworth cookies, but a baby had to do what a baby had to do. This’ll teach Unca Scrooge, he thought, as he kicked at the dirt. He’d run far, far away and Unca Scrooge and Duckworth would lament over how they’d treated him so poorly.

Why, oh why didn’t I play with him more? Scrooge would cry.

We should have let him stay up past his bedtime! Duckworth would moan.

Scrooge would tear at his sideburns and declare, If only I had him back in my arms again, I’d shower him with a million kisses!

And Duckworth would fall to his knees to exclaim, And I would never make him pick up his toys ever again!

Donald nodded to himself. This would teach them. Donald would make his own way in the world. Maybe he’d find a job as a professional ice-cream taster or become the world’s first astronaut/superstar/president! Hadn’t his unca always said he could be anything he wanted to be? Well now was the time to make that happen. He’d earn a bajillion and one dollars in his new role and spend it all on candy. He’d stay up as late as he wanted and watch all the adult tv shows his unca never let him! He’d spend all day laying in the sun without wearing any sunscreen! He’d watch cartoons until his eyes went square! And he wouldn’t even fear the monsters under his bed anymore because he’d be all grown up!

Donald stood up with a renewed sense of purpose. A brand-new life was out there waiting for him, just beyond the border of his front yard. He picked up his bag and took a few steps.

But! If he left home, who would tell him stories to lull him to sleep at night? Who would hug him close and kiss away his tears when he was sad? Who would smooch his boo-boo’s better? Who would make him laugh so hard that snot would fly out of his nose? Without Duckworth and Scrooge would Donald be able to sing himself his own lullabies? Or rub his own tummy when he got sick from eating too many sweets? He hadn’t considered such things before. He’d only envisioned the freedoms he’d attain once he had left home, not the wonderful things he would leave goodbye. No more tea parties with Duckworth. No more bath time with Unca Scrooge. Out there on his own, he wouldn’t be able to crawl into bed with his guardians and cuddle.

Donald sat back down. He was torn. Should he stay or should he go?

He was still angry at Unca Scrooge after all, but whether or not that anger could fuel him to carry out his spiteful plan was uncertain.

There was only one thing for it, Donald thought. He opened up his suitcase and pulled from it a juicebox and the dozen cookies. A snack always helped him think. Once he’d sucked down the juice and eaten all the cookies, he felt awfully tired. He skipped his nap earlier. Perhaps a quick doze was what he needed to make up his mind.

Donald grabbed his blankie and his stuffed animal from his luggage and crawled into the now empty suitcase. He’d only sleep for a few minutes and then he would continue on with his plan. Just a few minutes…

Duckworth had found the tyke snoozing on the front lawn when he’d gone to water the garden. He tutted. That little boy was always up to no good, sneaking around behind his back. He decided to leave Donald where he was, since the boy looked awfully cozy sleeping in a sunbeam. Duckworth pressed a kiss to Donald’s head before turning to water the plants. Besides, Scrooge would want to see this for himself when he got home for lunch in a few minutes.

The minutes passed quickly as Duckworth hummed an improvised ditty to himself as he puttered about the yard. He heard the garden gate creak open and the sound of Scrooge’s spats upon the brick path.

“Afternoon, Duckworth!” Scrooge removed his hat and dipped his head in his friend’s direction.

Silently, Duckworth held a finger to his lips and pointed at the still snoozing duckling.

“Dearie me!” Scrooge whispered. “If that isn’t the cutest sight, I’ve ever seen!” He dropped his briefcase and hurried over to adorable sight. “What’s he doing out here, then?”

Duckworth shrugged. “Found him out here after I tucked him in for a nap. He must have gotten past the baby gate somehow.”

“Aye.” Scrooge laughed. “That’s our wee Donnie. Too curious for his own good.”

The hushed conversation gently stirred Donald from his rest, and he opened his eyes to see his guardians gazing down lovingly at him. He removed his thumb from his beak and smiled a sleepy little grin at them.

“Have a good nappie, lad?” Scrooge asked.

Donald nodded. “Mhmm…” But why was he outside? He always took his naps in his own bed, not on the front lawn. As he recalled the morning’s events, Donald rubbed at his eyes. That was right. He had tried to run away. Looking up at his unca now, Donald felt burdened with a horrible sense of guilt and burst into tears.

Scrooge picked him up and held him in his arms, rocking him from side to side. “What’s the matter, sweetheart, have a bad dream?”

Donald bawled into his uncle’s shoulder; handfuls of his broadcloth coat held tight in his fists. “I’m soh-soh-soh-rry!” A wet patch formed where his tears soaked into his uncle’s coat. “I shouldna run away! I’ll never do it again!”

Scrooge gave Duckworth a perplexed look which was met with an equally confused shrug. Neither of them knew what the duckling was on about, but there was an easy enough fix for tears. Scrooge kissed Donald’s salty, tear-streaked face. “All is forgiven, my darling.”

Duckworth leaned down to kiss Donald’s head. “Let’s head inside. I’ll make your favorite for lunch.”

“Mac ‘n cheese?” Donald sniffled.

“Yes, sir.” Duckworth smiled as he opened the door to their home.

Donald’s tears slowed as his uncle carried him inside. He loved mac n’ cheese. And Duckworth made the best there ever was.

[galoots]

Its springtime and you know what that means! Flowers are blooming, bees are buzzing, love is in the air, and Donald is up to some toddler shenanigans. 

Scrooge stretched out on his lawn chair with a satisfied sigh. After a long, cold winter, the first day of spring was finally here, and everyone was taking advantage of the warm weather. Duckworth was hard at work in the garden, coaxing new shoots from the loam underneath him. His usual white gloves had been replaced with gardening gloves and he had even untucked his tail from his trousers—a rare occurrence indeed. Bobbing around the garden was Donald’s little bonneted head. The tyke was using his newly acquired walking skills to chase various critters around the yard. The creatures were too fast for him and his bumbling, uncertain steps, but the baby didn’t seem to mind. He kept at it with a singular purpose. The yard was alive with energy. Birds were all a-twitter, singing their love songs for hopeful mates. Squirrels busied themselves hunting around for food. Bees were buzzing about their hives and pollinating flowers.

             Scrooge, however, was simply content to lie there and sun himself. After a winter locked up inside, doing paperwork and holding business meetings, it felt good to just sit in the sun and soak up the scene in front of him. His relaxation was put on hold briefly as little hands jostled him, desperate to get his attention. Peering over the side of his chair, he saw wee Donald excitedly bouncing up and down as he waited for his uncle to notice him.

             “Hello there, sweetheart.” Scrooge shaded his eyes from the sun, squinting against the glare. “Got something for me?”

             A bundle of mangled weeds, clumps of dirt still dangling from their roots, were clasped tightly in Donald’s pudgy hand. He pushed them into Scrooge’s with clumsy, uncalculated force. “Flowers,” was all he had to say.

             Scrooge sniffed his wild bouquet were a dozen roses. They smelled of grass and dirt. “They smell wonderful. Thank you darling. I’ll keep them tucked in my lapel.”

             Donald beamed up at him. “’Nother present for Unca!”

             “What’s that, Donnie?”

             “Eyes closed!” Donald demanded.

             Doing as he was told, Scrooge held out his open hand. Sight or no sight, he was never sure what to expect from his mischievous duckling. He didn’t need his eyes to feel that the slimy mass Donald had plopped into his open hand was wriggling. His eyes shot open and Scrooge suppressed the urge to jerk his hand away and send the mass of worms flying. A shudder racked its way down his spine. Beads of sweat formed on his brow.

             “T-thank you!” The tangle of worms in his palm writhed. “I-I love it!”

             “Snack!”

             “What?”

             Donald pantomimed eating the worms, rubbing his stomach in big exaggerated circles. “Yum!”

             “No!” Scrooge’s stomach flopped at the thought of throwing live worms into his open maw. “Absolutely not! We do not eat worms!”

             Donald’s face dropped. His beak began to tremble. Scrooge knew all too well the tells of a toddler about to bawl.

             “Ok! Look! Unca is going to eat them!” The worm squirmed as Scrooge held it aloft. In a way he hoped was convincing, Scrooge pretended to eat the poor critter. He dropped it behind his head Luckily, it wasn’t hard to trick a toddler, and Donald clapped happily as Scrooge partook of his pretend meal. “Mmm! Delicious!”

             “Gonna get more!” Satisfied, Donald ran back to the garden.

             Free from incriminating eyes, Scrooge unceremoniously dumped the worms on the grass. He wiped his hand frantically on his coat wiping his hand frantically on his coat.

             “Hey!” Benedict snapped his head up, pointing his trowel directly at Scrooge. “Worms are good for the garden. Unless you want trouble, I’d strongly suggest you pick those gentlemen back up and deposit them next to the petunias, Scrooge.”

             Scrooge sighed wearily. It was useless trying to argue. Benedict took gardening awfully seriously. He fished his handkerchief from his pocket and bent down to start picking up the worms.

             Meanwhile, Donald had waddled over to Benedict’s side to see what all the hubbub was about. “Ducky!” Donald stood on his tippy toes to softly stroke Benedict’s head.

             Benedict smiled warmly at the touch. “Hello dear.” Placing the trowel down, Benedict removed his gloves. “Come to join me in the garden?”

             “Yah. Garden!” Donald bent to pick up the trowel his Ducky had just put down.

             Benedict eased the tool from the toddler’s hands, directing his attention elsewhere. “Admire the flowers with me, poppet.”

             Distracted, Donald let go of the trowel and grabbed roughly at the flower instead.

             Benedict carefully pulled the tender petals from the toddler’s crushing grasp. “Softly now.” He warned. “Flowers are fragile.” Benedict took Donald’s hand in his own, guiding it to stroke the velvety petals.

             “Soft.” Donald whispered.

             “Indeed. But that’s not all. Give it a sniff.”

             Benedict brought the flower to Donald’s bill so he could smell the flower. Donald inhaled. “Smell goo’.”

             “Pretty isn’t it?”

             “Pwetty.” Donald echoed.

             Turning towards his Puppa, Donald placed a chubby hand on Benedict’s face. “Pwetty Ducky.”

             Benedict blinked at the little hand on his face. “Me? I’m pretty?”

             “Ya.” Donald patted Benedict’s face. “Flower pwetty. Ducky pwetty.”

             “Well, aren’t you the charmer.” Benedict chuckled as he planted a kiss on Donald’s head. “Thank you, poppet.”

             A stocky, squat figure momentarily blocked out the sun, casting a shadow over the garden.

             “So you get compliments while I get worms.” Scrooge held his handkerchief at arm’s length, pinched between two fingers like a dirty nappy. The worms wriggled inside the cloth.

             Duckworth smirked. “The boy has impeccable taste.” He graciously took the bundle of worms and freed them from their cloth prison. The worms burrowed into the dirt.

             Scrooge scoffed and shoved Benedict’s shoulder playfully.

             Pointing one pudgy finger accusatorially at his uncle, Donald yelled. “No hitting!” He looked very cross. “Bad Unca! No hit!”

             Duckworth laughed. “Very good, poppet! Unca is being naughty. He deserves a time out. A sentence of sixty years with no baby kisses seems appropriate.”

             Scrooge gasped. “That’s too harsh! I think that qualifies as cruel and unusual punishment.”

             “No kissy?” Donald’s face fell. His face contorted and his bill started to waver.

             Benedict and Scrooge shared a panicked look with one another. It was too late, however, to rectify the situation. A warbling cry pierced the air, causing all sentient life with eardrums to head for cover. Even the worms underneath the earth, stone-deaf as they were, winced as the vibrations reached them.

              “Duckworth is making a joke, honeybunch!” Scrooge yelled over the ruckus.

             Benedict had immediately covered his sensitive ears. “You can have all the kisses you want!”

             Scrooge swooped the crying toddler into his arms. He hugged him tightly and peppered his face with kisses to prove his point. He jiggled the duckling in his arms, murmuring soothing words all the while. Donald’s crying faded into quiet sniffling. Instinctually, Scrooge reached for his handkerchief. He found his pocket empty. He had used it to gather the worms, and now it was crumpled against Duckworth’s ear.

             With a sigh, he used his sleeve to wipe away his duckling’s tears. “There’s my bonny boy.” He smiled at the teary-eyed babe in his arms. “No need for tears.”

             “Is it over?” Benedict shouted.

             “It’s over. You can take your hands off your ears, Benedict.”

             “What?” Benedict unclasped his hands. His ears perking up cautiously. “Oh.”

             Scrooge chuckled heartily, patting Donald on the back.

             “Dow’.” Donald demanded with a sharp tug of Scrooge’s sideburn.

             “Ouch.” Scrooge obliged the demanding toddler, plopping him down on the grass. Having already forgotten the incident, Donald wandered over to admire the flowers again.

             Benedict and Scrooge watched their ward silently for a moment, drinking in the moment of calm after the storm.

             “I agree. With Donald, that is. About what he said earlier.” Scrooge roughly whispered.

             Benedict’s ears perked up, trying to catch what Scrooge had said. “Hm?”

             Covering his face with embarrassment, Scrooge faked a cough and deflected. “T-the flowers. They’re very pretty. You’ll be sure to win the best gardener prize this year for sure.”

             “Meredith Hagemann—eat your heart out! That trophy is mine for the taking!”

             The two of them chuckled in unison as Benedict cursed his horticultural rival. For a brief, unguarded moment, Scrooge stared wistfully at his friend crouched in the dirt. Benedict picked up his gloves once again–intent on getting back to work. He wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve Benedict in his life, but he was glad he was there. Perhaps the headiness of spring had gotten to him, for Scrooge opened his beak ready to tell him so. Before he could eke out whatever emotion-choked words dangled from the tip of his tongue, a terrible sight had stopped him. Benedict’s eyes opened in surprise as he spotted it too. Donald had grabbed one of Benedict’s prized petunias in his tiny hand and, in a frighteningly quick manner, shoved the blossom directly into his awaiting mouth. Scrooge dove to stop him, but it was far too late. Donald snapped the flower off its stem and munched on it happily.

            Benedict couldn’t help but laugh.

[hufflepuffmarlenemckinnon]

Dog meets Duckling

An Excerpt from my Novel-Length Fanfic The Dog and the Duckling

Summary: Sirius is assigned to mentor Marlene Mckinnon when she joins The Order of the Phoenix. His perceptions of Hufflepuff house are drastically changed, and so is his life.

Rated Teen mostly for language and innuendo.

A/N: So most everyone who follows me will have gathered that I headcanon Marlene as Duck animagus for a lot of the fic I write. I decided to put some of the backstory of that up on Tumblr in case anyone was curious. I’ll keep these blurbs listed in chronological order on my Fic Masterlist.  

August, 1980

“I need new friends.”

Sirius mumbled empty insults under his breath. His closest friends had left him in the lurch. Sure, they had a valid reason, what with their 6 day old baby and all...He didn’t really think that they should have planned their family with more consideration for him. But he couldn’t help feel annoyed at the new duties to The Order of the Phoenix he would pick up due to James Potter’s absence for the next 8 weeks.

He felt a smile coming on as he imagined little Harry giving them at least a tiny bit of hell.

James Potter was probably changing a nappy at the very moment that Sirius attempted to keep his eyes open while reading over files on the newly enlisted witch he’s be mentoring. James’s task would be more brief but certainly had a more unpleasant odor. The little parlor room The Order of the Phoenix rented at The Leaky Caldron was perhaps a bit musty from old furniture and neglect, but that was the worst of it.

Sirius has persistent doubts that he’d be a suitable mentor. He didn’t really understand why Dumbledore chose him to take up this slack.

He went over the possible reasons in his head. Because pointless mental conjecture was one of the long list of things that Sirius Black enjoyed more than paperwork.  

I suppose I was the next best thing?

He wasn’t. He knew this. The Potters were the sort of people that took naturally to leadership. They’d been head boy and girl during their 7th year at Hogwarts and they were both more patient and more responsible than most people in their early 20s. Sirius was a far cry from that description.

Two years out of Hogwarts, the goals he’d accomplished were less, “find a wife, buy a house, have a baby” and more “try not to be a gigantic twat to anyone today”.

He was fairly pleased with his progress in being less of a twat. He hadn’t been born to be a good or a kind person because certainly none of his family possessed those qualities. He didn’t even become aware that it was an option until he was 11 years old. His youthful attempts at catching up were often abject failures in real decency. He’d been a major twat a time or 50.

He really had gotten better. He didn’t feel like a decent person deep down, but it was certainly what he was aiming to be.

Sirius didn’t really do “responsible” though. He once bought new clothes because he was so rubbish at laundering spells, rather than practicing up on the aforementioned charms. It seemed reasonable to Sirius. He rode a flying motorbike and never found himself compelled to follow the rules in favor of having a good time.

He considered the possibility that Dumbledore was using this as some sort of mission to persuade him into behaving like more of a role model. The only flaw in that theory was that it assumed Dumbledore had reasons for all the things he did. Sometimes he just did things. No one knew why. Including Albus Dumbledore himself.

But reason or no reason, Sirius was stuck with the job and very soon he’d be face to face with his new mentee; Marlene McKinnon of Hufflepuff house, age 16. It was his his job to teach her how The Order works and let her follow him around, watching and learning,for the next month until she went back to Hogwarts.

She’d be entering 7th year. Sirius figured she must’ve gotten bored and restless during the summer or that perhaps her older sisters and brothers going off to fight in wars seemed exciting to someone that young. With four siblings in the order she’d be an obvious recruit after she finished 7th year.

He spotted the line on the file in front of him that stated Marlene wouldn’t even come of age until August 31st.  Generally, The Order wasn’t wild about taking under-age witches and wizards or even of age ones who were still at Hogwarts.

There were exceptions. Sirius found a pondering what made Marlene McKinnon exceptional more interesting than her file as well.

7th years were particularly vulnerable to recruiting from the Death Eaters. Having a 7th year spying for the order and keeping tabs on who had taken the mark and who was likely to to do so was a fairly useful thing for The Order. It had been done before.

But a McKinnon would be ghastly choice for this task.

The McKinnons were a well known wizarding family. All fervent supporters of Muggle Born equality and every one of them (now that their youngest had signed on) was Order affiliated. Sirius didn’t know their exact percentage of Magical ancestry and thought that sort of tedious detail was better saved for people who were vile enough to care. His mother probably would have known.

The McKinnon parents were a black Londoner witch and an Irish wizard. Their five children had slight variations of skin tones in the middle area between their parents. But every one of them had the same hair. It was instantly recognizable, as it was large. Heaps of ringlets that seemed to grow out rather than down. It wouldn’t be hard to spot a McKinnon in a crowd from a broomstick at a distance. Not a great quality for a spy.

So when the girl showed up 20 minutes early with a smile as broad as Hagrid’s shoulders, he didn’t have to ask who she was. This was obviously Marlene McKinnon of Hufflepuff house. She had more freckles than her sister Grace, who’d been in Sirius’s year, but he contended that they looked related.

The beaming impish girl was tiny under all the golden-brown spiral curls. Sirius had encountered taller 2nd years. Her taste in muggle clothes might have made someone else look like a bit of a rebel.  Marlene, on the other hand, looked like a human sunflower who inexplicably enjoys muggle bands with a penchant for profanity.

She’s actually quite pretty.

As soon as he’d had the thought he mentally backtracked and argued with himself over how she wasn’t really beautiful. She might have been more accurately described as cute. Sweet looking. Like a kneazle kitten. She had nothing of the icy untouchable beauty that his own family was known for. Sirius thought maybe that whole concept was overrated anyhow. His deranged cousin Bellatrix may have been one of the great beauties of her generation, but nearly everyone would agree that she was terrifying.

Marlene was anything but terrifying. The only thing Sirius found disconcerting about her was that she was looking at him like Godric Gryffindor come again.

Was she under the influence of a curse? Was she confusing him with someone important? Or just… confused in general?

Sirius was entirely oblivious to the fact that Marlene McKinnon had been looking at him like that for quite a while. She’d considered herself well over it by now, even. But as soon as she walked in she realized that the crush she’d acquired when she was in her 4th year and he in his 7th, was not entirely a thing of the past. Then-14-year-old Marlene had decided that Sirius Black was perhaps the most impressive young wizard she’d ever come into contact with when she heard he’d run away from home and subsequently been disowned for rejecting his family’s blood supremacist ideologies.

She was completely smitten when she found that along with his principles and willingness to stand up for them, he also possessed strikingly handsome good looks. His high contrast coloring and steel grey eyes in combination with his aristocratic bone structure made it hard for Marlene to focus on anything else, even from across the dining hall.

Her siblings who were still at school with her at the time, Grace in 7th year and Lucan in 6th, took notice of her besotted gawking. The sibling pair, who were always closest with each other, did not hesitate to tease their baby sister mercilessly.

Marlene had ended up saying yes to the first boy who expressed an interest in her in 5th year, just to prove to them that she was over her silly crush. She made a noble effort to overlook Reginald Cattermole’s uncanny resemblance to a ferret. Poor sod. Never stood a chance. She got increasingly bored of him during 6th year and gave him the boot officially some months back. And now she was back to square one. Sirius, naturally, hadn’t even been aware of any of this while it was going on.

He thought that no one looked at him like that. Though he liked to think he was quite pleasant to look at (Marlene would concur), in general he was looked upon with suspicion. And that was amongst his allies. There were plenty of witches and wizards who looked at him with complete contempt. But until that very moment Sirius didn’t think anyone had ever looked at him like Marlene McKinnon had from the moment she walked in the front door.

He was really enjoying it.

But why? It was weird. I should stop. She should stop.

“You’re Sirius Black.”

“I am. But I’m afraid you have this whole introductions thing backwards. I already know who I am. You’re meant to tell me who you are. But I’m fairly certain you’re Marlene McKinnon? Am I right?”

“Yes. That’d be me. Errrm… I meant to have introduced myself. Not just gape at you like an idiot, then tell you your own name. And I’m early. That’s...unfortunate. Uh… I’m pretty bad at this. I’m sorry?”

“It’s alright, Marlene. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. You’re bad at… what exactly?”

“So many things, really.” She laughed.

Sirius decided that the ability to laugh at herself would come in handy if she was always this strange around people. He actually kind of admired that quality. He was of the opinion that most people took themselves too seriously. It was tedious for him to spend time around people like that. He got the immediate impression that Marlene was anything but tedious.

“Well aren’t we all? I’ve never mentored anyone before and I’m sure I’ll be very disappointing. Truly, I’m sorry that you got stuck with me. You can send complaints to the Potters.”

He thought maybe a small dose of self deprecation would put this little tightly wound ball of nerves a bit more at ease. Looking at her posture was giving him a crick in his neck.

It was also Sirius’s earnest opinion that he would be a terrible mentor. He had no idea what he was even meant to do with her. He felt it was likely that he would forget to feed her or something, like he had done with that goldfish he’d won at that muggle fair.

“Oh no; not at all.” She blurted out as if it were all one word.

As Marlene continued to speak, her words tumbled out at an impressive pace without so much as a pause for breath.

“I was thrilled when I heard you were going to mentor me. I always thought you were so brave, walking away from your family like you did. That must have taken an enormous amount of courage. But I hadn’t seen you since you left school and you are exceptionally good looking and I got distracted and forgot that I was supposed to say my name when I meet a person.”

Sirius did his best not to let his face react in any way while Marlene cycled through approximately 50 facial expressions within the span of a minute.

Sirius wondered what planet was this girl had come from. Grace McKinnon had been fairly Hufflepuffy in his recollection, but she wasn’t the personification of a broom crash when she spoke. But just like a broom crash, Marlene was impossible to look away from. Sirius was transfixed. But he preferred to think that he wasn’t quite terrible enough to have to hold back a laugh at a broom crash.

He was at a loss of anything at all to say. Lucky for him that Marlene, whose embarrassed blush might have been visible from her far off home planet, felt compelled to fill the air with more of her rapid fire words.

“Oh sweet Merlin did I really say that? I’m so so sorry. I think I should probably go. Maybe I’ll tell Dumbledore I’m not cut out for The Order. Maybe I’ll move to Spain and start a new life…”

“That really won’t be necessary. Besides it would reflect pretty poorly on me if my first mentee ran away to Spain after meeting me once. So I must object. You’ll be great with The Order. Your heart is in it. It must be. You’ve still got a year of school left but here you are.”

“I thought maybe I could help. Everyone’s so scared. You-know-who is gaining ground. I’d rather be part of something that stops him than sit idle and be scared.”

“See, you do belong here. Please don’t run away to Spain. I’m sure your brothers and sisters would miss you terribly.”

“I suppose they might. A bit. Well, maybe not Gawain. But the rest. Do you know them?”

“I was in Grace’s year. We’ve never been close but she seems like a lovely person. You look a lot like her. You all look alike. Gawain too. What’s wrong with Gawain?”

Marlene did look like all the other McKinnons. But Sirius had never given more the conventional looking Grace a second glance and if he had glanced any more at Marlene it would have constituted a full on ogling.

He reminded himself that he shouldn’t look at her like that. She was someone he’d have to see every day for a month. Then possibly work with in the future. He didn’t dip into that pool. It was needlessly messy, when he was Sirius Black and was not lacking in options.

Marlene had just called him exceptionally good looking which, while true, was not something he expected people to announce at random. So by doing that she confused his brain into considering the ways which she was attractive, or would be, if the circumstances were different. Or that was the mental gymnastics he performed to excuse his giving her the once over, anyway.

“Gawain’s terribly embarrassed by me. I’m… pretty embarrassing. So I don’t really blame him. But we aren’t particularly close.”

“I have a thing or two to teach him about what it’s really like to have embarrassing relatives. Did you know that my first cousin tells people that she’s the Dark Lord’s mistress? You’re not embarrassing. I… look forward to working with you.”

All the impulses Sirius felt towards Marlene felt wrong and contrary to the image he attempted to portray to the world. He was supposed to be blazé about people’s opinions of him. Self confident and cool. He felt anything but cool when intentionally bringing up Bella’s terrible taste in men. Could Voldemort even really be called a man at this point? He looked… not entirely human. Sirius idly wondered if he had all the working bits. But he would not go as so far as to make any inquiries into the matter.

Marlene looked so anxious. Her nervous fingers played with the ripped hem of her too-big shirt. As endearing as her nervous fidgeting was, Sirius wanted to make her feel more at ease.

But why should he care if she’s awkward? Probably that was just her. Why was he making himself uncomfortable in efforts to make her less so? He didn’t do that. He especially didn’t do that for skinny 16 year old Hufflepuffs with huge hair and school girl crushes.

But he did. And he continued to, even as he thought about how he didn’t.

“So you think she’s not his mistress but she tells people that she is? That’s. Wow. I can’t think of many things more embarrassing than that. Actually being his mistress would be less pathetic, at least.”

Her sunny smile was back. Sirius felt a small sense of victory before she averted her gaze down to her yellow-stitched boots.

“I don’t know. I mean that’s my theory. But I don’t keep a sneekoscope in he-who-must-not-be-named’s bedroom.”

“Do you think he even has a bedroom? You know I’ve never before this moment thought of him being a person who does mundane things such as sleep or shag your cousin. But he must, right? He can’t possibly devote every moment of his life to terrorizing and murdering. Do you think he does his own shopping?”

“He probably has his minions do it or else a house elf, but now I really wish he did do it himself. I like the mental image it creates. He’d need breaks from reigning terror for a few hours on Thursday afternoon, because he needs to stock up on fresh produce. Can you picture the poor shopkeeper, totally gobsmacked?”

“You make jokes about He-who-must-not-be-laughed-at too. Gawain would be so scandalized.”  

The pair were having quite a laugh at the expense of the most dangerous dark wizard alive. They were both sure that this was going to be fun. Sirius decided that he needed some fun in his life now that James and Lily were busy with their baby.