#but not his twin?

[shelli-gator]

Been writing some Donald x Duck content with a fellow train enjoyer, because God I need more of them. And I get to write for Donald and Douglas!

So here, have what I wrote, feeling pretty chuffed with how its going so far. Woe, Scotts be upon thee! 🫴🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿🚂🚂

Context: One by one, a number of engines are suddenly taken ill. Usually the picture of health and hearty endurance, Donald is reluctant to admit anything is wrong, even to himself.

As it would turn out, it's Donald and Douglas who've been called in to pick up the slack. They'd already been on their way back to Tidmouth yard from Vicarstown with a heavy goods train, and it was no fuss (bar Douglas' initial reluctance to add to their load) to collect Edward's train from the siding- a heavy goods train may as well be slow goods, and with ease the Scottish twins had repositioned themselves around it.

Or at least, it should have been easy.

At the front of the now most notably long train, Donald feels something more than the uncomfortable strain on his tender coupling. His breathing feels laboured as he chuffs, and as hard as he tries to notch up to even out the hardness of his puffing, it does nothing for him. And by now, the ache that's been gnawing away at the inside of his smokebox all day has blossomed into something ugly.

The Scottish twin grimaces, screwing his eyes shut, but the only voice he gives to his discomfort is a low, muffled growl behind tightly pressed lips. Keep on keeping on. It's gonna take more than some bad steaming to send him crawling to the Steamworks.

But his weak steam hasn't gone unnoticed, much to his irritation- his brother's words are needly to the No. 9 as he jeers from the back of their train, his tone jovial but decidedly pointed.

"For all yer bluster, yer nae pullin' at all, man! 'We'll pull this wee train nae bother, Dougie'! Och, what muckle nonsense!"

"Ack, away n' wheesht!" Donald shouts back at him with a long suffering roll of his eyes skyward, but he has to suck in a breath soon after, his expression pinched with the effort it had taken to yell at all. And he doesn't like how disconcerting that feels. He's usually quite good at yelling. He has to be to yell over his brother.

For a beat, there's nothing, and he thinks that will be the end of that. Until-

"What?!" Douglas hollers back, confused.

"I said," Donald tries again, taking in a ragged gasp, "Away n' whee-"

But he can't finish. The black goods engine stumbles as it feels like his steam leaves him all at once, and his driving wheels suddenly slip with shrieks and sparks. The train jolts and slows as the leading twin falters, and Douglas yells out in surprise as, just like that, the entirety of the weight is suddenly left to him. He can't shoulder it so suddenly, and he puts his brakes hard on to bring them to a stop, the trucks bouncing back and forth against one another to make them shriek and cackle.

"Donnie?!" He hears Douglas call out, but Donald can't find it in himself to answer, trying to ground himself on the rails. He sucks in small shaky breaths, as if too ashamed to gasp for air, as much as he might need it, and it makes the ache in his smokebox flare so sharply it makes him giddy.

Keep the heid, Donald. He thinks to himself shakily, swallowing, and his blastpipe feels uncomfortably dry as he watches the rails beyond his buffers waver. That's new.

It isn't long at all before he hears the approaching chuffing of his twin, but can't quite bring himself to look up at him as he wills the world to steady itself. And against his backhead he can feel his driver fiddling with his controls, perhaps trying to right whatever it is that's throwing his engine off kilter.

"What was that about then?!" Douglas demands angrily, ready to believe his brother had thrown a wobbly for his teasing. It wouldn't be the first time, so Donald can hardly blame him. He'd have thought the same.

But their eyes meet, and Donald watches his brother's face fall, earthy brown eyes that mirror his own darting over his pale face. And he feels himself tense up in response- he really doesn't want to have to explain himself.

"Donnie? Ye dinnae look so good." Douglas says dubiously, watching the steam leak from him in a wheesh of discontent.

"I'm fine." Donald shoots back stubbornly, hackles raised, but Douglas will not be deterred so easily.

"Oh no, dinnae dae that," his brother admonishes, but there's no sting to his words, "Talk to me, man. Ye'v nae bin yerself all day."

Was he really that transparent? He knew he wasn't well, but had he really fallen so short? Just like that the fire and brimstone leaves the No.9, and he releases steam in defeat, a wheezy sigh sending it dancing in flurries.

"Ack... aye Dougie. I dinnae feel so good. I’m fair puckled..." As if to prove his point he has to draw in another sharp breath before the words are even out his mouth, and he tsks with a frown, growling at himself for his weakness.

"Can ye keep going?"

"Aye." Donald is quick to affirm, and he leaves no room for argument in his tone. He's not about to go to the Steamworks when another wee engine just got sent there, and here they are collecting his train. What a right muckle comedy of errors would that be?

Douglas seems to echo the sentiment, not at all keen to see his brother get shipped off to the works. So he puffs himself up with a laugh, his smile confident, "Dinnae fash yerself then, Donnie. I've got ye, man. I've got puff in me fir the both of us!" He blasts his whistle in a grand display, and Donald is quick to answer with a chuckle, sending out an answering whistle that joins in with Douglas' own. And with that, the other Caledonian engine steams forward to find a point. 

Soon enough he's backing up to double head with his twin, and Donald can't help but think it's a little like it was back then, once upon a time when a Scottish engine had stolen his twin away with him to their new home far away. And with his brother to lean on, they can hide that he's having any steaming trouble at all.

It takes some work and strain to get the train moving again, but Donald isn't completely useless. He puts every ounce of puff he has into supporting his twin's gallant effort, ignoring how tired it makes him, and finally, they're heading for home again. And to anyone watching, it would seem the twins are working in tandem as usual, even if Douglas looks a little pinker in the face for it.

"Dae ye ken what's wrong?" Douglas asks eventually over his strong chuffing, working hard to pick up his brother's slack. But Donald grunts in response, eying the back of his buffers to avoid looking at the scenery as it flies by, wary of it making him feel sicker still.

"Ah dinnae ken, no." 

"Maybe it's something in the water?" Douglas offers, and Donald perks up to arch a brow at him, leaning to the side like his brother might be able to catch a glimpse of his skeptical look, "We passed wee Percy looking proper done in on Gordon's Hill, mind, and now Edward's at the Steamworks, all out of puff."

Donald dares to think he has a point, what are the odds that three engines run into steaming trouble on the same day, "Aye, maybe yer right!" The thought gives him some reprieve- if it's just water, that's a temporary issue, one that he can wait out till the next day. And Donald feels his spirits bolster.

"Och aye, I usually am!" Douglas quips dryly, and Donald rolls his eyes fondly, giving his twin a bump from behind to jostle him.

Despite the hiccup, the pair make good time to Tidmouth, steaming through tunnels and past rolling fields. The sky is just starting to tinge pink and orange as they approach the station, and Donald finds himself leaning in an attempt to see past his brother, not so subtly looking for a familiar shape that so often stops there, green and broad and sturdy, with a long, elegant funnel. He could recognize him anywhere, from his pert bunker to his distinctive waddle as he bustles about on his branch line.

So when Douglas whistles to announce their arrival, Donald joins in with a whistle of his own, with a hope that they'll soon hear a third whistle echo back just for them, proper and, to Donald, endearingly bird-like.

'Ye there, Duckie?'

--------

And that's all she wrote!

[noelledeltarune]

EVERY SINGLE DAY there are MILLIONS of characters in their late 20s who get falsely accused of being father figures to teenagers when in reality the description of "weird older cousin" or "step-sibling that moved out before you were born" is 1000000x more apt

[kesopan]

warmth in the cold

[noodles-and-tea]

Continuation of this

[stealingpotatoes]

i love comparing the fake stories that each twin was told

(commission info // tip jar!)

[yujateaandpi]

Fanart for @noodles-and-tea’s precious Twins in Time AU comic! These goobers rotate in my head every day.

[astr0disiac]

"toxic yaoi" this "password" that

THIS being one of stan's lowest moments is the saddest thing i've seen and no one has talked about it what the freak :(

[akanemnon]

This whole family is friggin weird

[sunnylolli]

Broadcast-dimension (1/2)

An old au I had back in, I think, 2022 when I first got into the show was a dimension kind of like the dimension in Interstellar? But where I've refined it a bit to be more like a broadcasting/projection dimension? Where Stanford's essentially projected into his brothers' dreams. And since Stanford is an "interference", his appearance and physical manifestation is restricted to Stanley's imagination. E.g. in these comic strips, Stanford's projected into Stanley's mind as being ~12 years old-ish, because that's the age Stanley sees him as daily. And while Stanley does have a very vivid imagination, imagining Stanford being older is a comically difficult (and inaccurate) feat, hahah. Also it won't be drawn, because I'm... Lazy.. But Stanley's an avid lucid dreamer in my headcanons, and has a strong grasp on his own mind and dreams - So in the end of the au, when Stanford discovers that in order to leave the broadcast-dimension he needs Stanley to manifest/imagine a portal in his mind for Stanford to go through, Stanford has to find an older Stanley who'd know more about portals in order to imagine a functioning and safe one- Aka. Stanford has to visit Stanley's dreams either right after the portal incident or years after that incident when he's older and replay the entire scene in order to leave >:) A bonus however, because can't have hurt without comfort, Stanford does end up seeing in Stanley's dreams, as he rifling through the ages to find Stanley after the portal incident, the life he's lived that Ford had no clue about. And they do end up being on better terms when Stanley manages to get the portal up and running and get Stanford home. The dream where Ford goes through the portal again has lasting effects on Stanley, afterall, and he ends up more determined to get the damn thing to turn on than ever before!

[skipppppy]

I made a matching piece for Dipper 💫🌲

[some-kind-of-creature]

It wasn’t supposed to be a secret.

If you died while with the league, you will no longer be acknowledged to have existed, especially if you died during a mission. A disappointment will not be remembered.

The bats and birds don’t like speaking about the people they have lost, so they don’t. If someone ask about the dead, they will tell the person they don’t talk about that.

So how was Damian supposed to know that he should have told his father about his dead brother?

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

Doodle dump for the HWINEBHABWNAJCAHOWEEATOWEUB AU!!

A little Fiddleford doodle and the gang (FINALLY) going to get Ford some goddamn furniture in his shack.

------

The doomed narrative twins >:)

------

Fun fact: Wendy and Soos got 'hired' as Ford's unofficial lab assistants completely by accident! Soos kind of just. Attached himself to Ford, kind of similarly as he did with Stan.

Meanwhile, Wendy was recruited a little later when her friends dared her to enter the notorious "Mystery Shack" of the ever elusive Stanford Pines, mad scientist and eater of children (at least according to the rumors). When she discovered that Ford was just. Some nice guy, she felt bad and offered to help him clean up the mess she made by breaking in, and stuck around ever since :]

[planetsandmagic]

"even if no one else accepts you, I'll live with you"

[plagalkey]

late night takeout (street racing au)

[noodles-and-tea]

How does Ford react to Fidds taking Stan with him on a creature hunt? A sea based hunt at that.

He gets a lil jealous

[bokutoko]

osamu didn’t really have a favorite color.

it wasn’t until he saw you after school one chilly autumn day, your face lighting up with the question, “is that jacket new, ‘samu?”

he nodded—he didn’t think too much of it when he got it for his birthday, so he surely didn’t expect anyone else to notice. “a gift from ma.”

“i like it, it’s my favorite color,” you took in his full appearance, your eyes looking him up and down, “it suits ya.” a cackle escaped you at osamu’s flustered face, only growing louder with him grumbling, “shaddup.” osamu’s biggest tell was always his accent thickening, and you knew it.

as winter came, osamu found himself wearing that same jacket to and from school every day, ignoring atsumu’s relentless “whadda simp” comments, as a part of him hoped you’d one day be chilly enough to need his coat.

and when that day came, with his jacket hugging your figure as you nuzzled in his leftover body heat, osamu found it hard to breathe.

in that moment, he realized he’d found his new favorite color—yours.

a/n: sorry osamu if reader’s favorite color is pink😔 bro’s looking like pepto-bismol.

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