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friendlyunclej · 3 years ago

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The Ramblings of an Old Man

Prologue

“For the record, we’re not speaking about my wife,” I told the cop as he took a cigarette from his jacket.

“You don’t need to speak about your wife,” he told me, taking a sip of liquor from his flask.

“No, I said ‘we’ ain’t speaking about my wife,” I reaffirmed, taking off my hat and placing it on the table between us, “I can speak about her all I want. You don’t get to. Understand?”

Staring at me with a cocked eye and a cigarette in his hand, he responded, “What happens if ‘I’ speak about ‘your wife’, old coot?”

Watching a slimy smirk crawl across his face, I cracked my knuckles by balling my hands into fists as I replied, “We see if the other coppers are fast enough to save you from either a broken arm or a concussion. I can guarantee that they won’t be fast enough to save you from a cracked jaw.”

His stature immediately stiffened up after an hour of sitting in my bakery with a confident and lax swagger. The cop’s pasty face went almost as pale as the whites of his eyes. His light blue pupils immediately panicked and flicked to the right, outside the window over my left shoulder. A bit of perspiration formed at his hairline as he tried to regain his nonchalant lean. It didn’t work.

“Whoa, ‘other coppers’? You think I’m a copper, Donny?” the bastard said, picking up a fork from the table.

Before he could grab a bite from the puff pastry I placed on the table for him, I slowly dragged it away to my side of the table as I told him, “Strike Number One: ‘Donny’ is what my friends call me and what my wife used to call me.”

Seeing my brow furrow as I sit back against the booth seat, he tried to say, “Don, I’m s-”

“You ain’t sorry. Not yet.”

“Look, maybe we got off on the wrong foot. Let’s start over,” he continued, offering me a cigarette, “Have a smoke. Calm your nerves. I’m only here to-”

“Strike Number Two,” I interrupted, softly plucking the pack of cigarettes from his hands and dumping them into his cup of water, “Giving me orders in my own place of business. Y’all flatfoots really can’t help yourselves from giving people orders, can you?”

Sighing in frustration, the cop had to hold himself back from making the situation worse as he told me, “Alright, Don. May I ask you a question?”

“That’s better.”

“What makes you think I’m a cop?”

“Well, you’re the most normal-looking fella ever bothered to come into my bakery. I don’t mean ‘normal’ as in ‘normal normal’, but ‘normal’ as in ‘not wanting eyes’. I know that we’re in Colorado, but the beautiful thing about the people here is that, although they’re normal, they all have something a little intriguing about them. Nothing about you intrigues me.”

“So because I’m an inconspicuous fella, that means that I’m a cop?”

“No, it just means that there’s no reason for me to pay you any mind. At the moment, there still ain’t no reason. What makes you a cop was me seeing you talking to the two men with shades in that spruced up jalopy across the street over my left shoulder. What makes you a cop was me seeing you take an envelope from them and pocket it in that jacket of yours. What makes you a cop is the fact that you think making me keep my lights on for you after closing is a normal thing.”

The sweat was growing on his forehead at this point. He pulled a lighter from his jacket and lit his cigarette. I let him get one good drag from it before I stood up and walked towards the front of the shop.

As I stepped away from the table, the cop asked, “Hey, where you going? You agreed to have a conversation with me.”

When I finished walking, I grabbed the sign hanging on the front door and flipped it over to him, pointing to it as I said, “Strike Number Three. You’re out.”

Without even a glance to the sign, he retorted, “C’mon! What kind of establishment doesn’t allow smoking indoors?”

“How about a bakery owned by a baker that doesn’t want his doughnuts, muffins, cakes, cookies and brownies to leave the taste of nicotine lingering in his customers’ mouths?”

“That’s bullshit and you know it!”

“You want to know what’s real bullshit? An asshole who not only reads and acknowledges the signs at a business, but then ignores it and expects the business to still cater to them. Either walk out or get dragged out, your choice.”

I swung the doors open, letting the frigid winter air into the bakery. The cop got up, walked to the door with the cigarette still in his mouth then muttered a few words at me under his breath.

He wasn’t talking for at least a good month after that.

Asking Me About My Wife

I started opening the small ventilation windows as the unconscious copper was carried away by one of the two from the car. After I cracked his jaw, I was in the mood to continue but it didn’t feel right considering that the bastard was out cold by a single swing from a man my age. One of the two cops from the car was helping me from the other end of the store.

As he grabbed my second step ladder and creaked open a window, he said, “Sorry about Kent, Donny. He’s a new kid. This was us throwing him in the deep end to see how he swims.”

Moving my step ladder over to the next window, I replied, “You should have checked to see if he respected his elders before sending him in here, Willy. I don’t like roughing up blue boys when it’s not my job to.”

Climbing up the step ladder to his fifth window, Willy stated, “You know? You didn’t have to crack his jaw if you didn’t want to.”

Reaching for my third window, I sighed, “He told me that my wife must be a real peach to be married to me. My pride told me to sock him one. It’s his fault his jaw is brittle as newspaper.”

Pausing upon hearing that, Willy took a bit to think of a response before asking, “Still hurt about Hildegard, ja?”

“Yeah, I’m still hurt about Hildy. Always gonna be,” I retorted, folding up my step ladder.

“Es tut mir Leid,” he replied in his natural tongue as he collapsed his ladder and handed it to me.

“Don’t worry about it,” I exclaimed, as I walked towards the kitchen, “You want some strudel while we talk? Baked it just before closing, so it should still be pretty fresh.”

“As long as it’s not a hassle.”

“Never a hassle for family.”

Taking a seat at the table closest to the kitchen, Willy thanked me in his native language as I placed the apple strudel in front of him along with a cup of coffee. I had a warm cup of cider and let him take a few bites from his strudel before asking him why he and his partner were sitting outside of my shop the whole day. He told me that it was because they were forced to reopen Hildy’s case. I was the last suspect, so he tried to save me from my second round of questioning for as long as possible. Willy’s partner wanted to question me immediately, hoping that I would give him a reason to slap the cuffs on me again. He confirmed my beliefs when he rushed in to my bakery after a few minutes, practically shouting as much.

“Oh, you did it now, Alonzo,” Willy’s partner spat, closing the front door behind him as he entered.

“How’s the new guy doing? His jaw swollen yet or did the snow help stop it?” I asked, not looking towards him.

“I should slap you with a damn assault and battery charge, wiseguy,” he continued as he pulled up a seat next to Willy.

“I don’t think that’d stick. I’m nearly sixty years old. That was an uppity whipper snapper who got dropped by a single punch from an old timer. You coppers don’t want that in the papers. Besides, that was in self-defense. Ain’t that right, Willy?” I asked, taking a sip of cider.

Enjoying a third mouthful of strudel, Willy replied, “That’s what I saw.”

“William, if you keep protecting this old geezer, he’s going to get you stripped of your badge one day,” he said, making the same speech he always did, “Don, I thought your fighting days were over, anyway. How are you dropping blokes like that if you’re done with all that?”

“Who said I was done with all that? All I said when we last spoke was that I was getting too old for that shit,” I retorted, knowing that it would send him into a tizzy.

Before he could continue making empty threats at me, Willy pulled him aside to calm him down before he got too hotheaded. As always, I excused myself back to the kitchen while asking if he still had a sweet tooth for doughnuts. He didn’t answer as I went to the back and grabbed a few, letting them argue while I got a moment of peace to gather my thoughts. Willy and I go back a ways. He’s my wife’s younger brother and I actually met him before I met his sister. I think I was in my forties, or just about to be, and I was working at a bar between fights when Willy and Hildy walked in. Honestly, they were well dressed and they entered with their arms linked close together so I immediately thought they were an item. I think I remember the term “posh” being thrown around plenty as they walked through the bar, asking for help. Hell, if they came in to any other bar in New York City, they would have been treated like the king and queen of Germany just for how they dressed. Instead, they were met by every cold shoulder and silent stare possible as they were the only two white people in an all-black bar. All they were trying to do was find directions to an apartment in our side of town. It didn’t help that Willy barely spoke English and Hildy didn’t understand any. I watched them get turned away by every person in the bar before Willy left Hildy by the front door with their luggage bags. While I couldn’t take my eyes off of Hildy, Willy and I locked eyes by accident so he saw that as an invitation to conversation. He walked straight up to me at the bar as I was wiping down a few glasses and started trying to speak to me in German. I tried to tell him as politely as possible that I couldn’t understand him, but was distracted as a crowd of men started surrounding Hildy. While Willy was trying to ask for help in broken English as he pointed at an address written on the picture of a broken door, I saw the boys trying to get a bit handsy with her so I hopped the table and walked over to break it up. When I managed to get the guys to back off, I got wrapped up for the next four hours with Willy and Hildy after they believed that me escorting them out of the bar was me volunteering to be their tour guide. It was a painful ordeal of awkward miscommunication and Hildy’s constant curiosity making us stop at every store and landmark we passed. Eventually, I got them to their apartment and we said our goodbyes. Willy introduced himself as “Wilhelm Schulz” and he introduced Hildy as “Hildegard”. I told him to be careful with how curious his “wife” is or else she’ll find herself in the wrong crowd. He burst into laughter, much to Hildy’s confusion until he told her what I said in German then she joined in the giggling. As I turned to walk away, Hildy took my hand and pulled me in for a peck on the cheek as her way of thanking me. Flabbergasted by his older sister’s actions, Willy immediately rushed her inside, saying “danke but goodbye” repeatedly as I stood there stunned. That was the first time I ever met Wilhelm and Hildegard Schulz. Nearly twenty years later, Willy is a big-time detective who works with other officers from across the world and I’m wearing Hildy’s wedding band right on top of my dog tags. Returning to the table with a few chocolate donuts and a calmer head, I placed the plate on the table as I returned to my seat across from Willy and his partner, Paul McCallum. I’ve only known Paul since my days after the war when I was running with a gang to help make ends meet. He was a detective who moved from England to New York City post his service to his country. He helped Willy actually get noticed and promoted within the police force, so he’s a good man. However, he’s still your typical hard-ass copper with a big gun, a big mouth, and a big chip on his shoulder. He’s the only cop to ever get me in a court room and he would have had me tossed in the slammer if a few other policemen didn’t owe me a favor. I respect that he got that close and I really shouldn’t push his buttons so much, but it’s just too funny to me when I hear threats coming from an accent straight out of Her Majesty’s chambers. Our conversation really didn’t start back up until he ate about two and a half doughnuts off the plate.

“So,” I began, still slowly drinking my cider, “One of y’all going to tell me the reason the coppers need more info about Hildy or we just wasting time?”

Wiping his mouth with a handkerchief from his jacket, Paul started by saying, “William didn’t want to involve you again. Claimed grief and mental instability due to loss had warped your mind.”

“Is that so?” I questioned, flicking my eyes over to Willy. He gave an awkward shrug in response before continuing to enjoy his strudel.

Pulling out a pad and pen, Paul continued, “Very much so but I don’t believe that and our higher ups don’t care, so we’re here to ask you those same questions we asked before and a few more. That fine with you, Alonzo?”

“No.”

“Too bad. We need answers and you’re the best source to tap on the matter of Hildegard Schulz, her unnatural death, and the missing suspects. I’m ready for the answers. You ready for the questions, sir?”

“No.”

“Alright, let’s get started.”

Holding my face over my cup, I closed my eyes to let the soft warmth of the cider comfort me for a few moments as Paul flipped to a clean page before asking his first question.

“What happened five months ago on the night of the 22nd of July, 1923?”

“The same thing I told you last time. My wife and I went to sleep after listening to the radio for a few hours together. We fell asleep on the couch together. I woke up to the sound of the door getting smashed open. I immediately grabbed my couch bat, which is a bat I keep exclusively next to the couch because I occasionally have difficulty getting up from the couch without assistance, and went for the masked men who broke in. There were three men of similar size and build, dressed in identical clothing of black jeans, black shirts, black jackets, brown gloves, blue masks, and brown boots. The one who broke in had a crowbar in hand. The man behind him shot me in the shoulder with a revolver. The third man went straight for Hildy. She shot him in the neck with a pistol she had hidden on herself. The other two men rushed and overpowered her, dragging her away. The last thing I saw before passing out from my gunshot wound was her staring at me with eyes of sorrow and regret as she slipped her wedding band off.”

“Have you ever seen men like these before?”

“No, I’ve never seen amateurs.”

“How do you know they were amateurs?”

“They had three people and they all agreed to come in from the same fatal funnel. Any people with experience kidnapping others know that, if you’re working with a team, you spread out to better cover multiple exits.”

“Speaking from experience?”

I took a sip of cider as Willy nudged Paul with his elbow.

Clearing his throat, Paul continued, “I digress. You said that her pistol was hidden. Did you not know she had it until she pulled it?”

“Correct.”

“Do you not have firearms in the house?”

“I do, just not in the living room.”

“Was this your first time seeing this specific firearm?”

“Yes.”

“So you don’t know where she got it from?”

“Oh, no, I do. She prayed for Baby Jesus to deliver it in a baby crib outside our window one night and it showed up, being carried in the talons of a fucking stork. What the hell kind of a question is that? I just said that that’s my first time seeing that gun.”

“No need to get aggravated. I’m just covering my bases. How about this: Can you think of anyone she could have got the gun from?”

“Many folks, yeah.”

“Can you name them?”

“Colt. Walther. Springfield. Winchester. Browning. Webley.”

Giving a disgruntled sigh, Paul crossed out a line of notes once he realized my sarcasm then changed the question to, “Had she been in contact with anyone before the night of the home invasion?”

Remembering her trading words in her native tongue with someone on the phone multiple times throughout the entire week prior to the break-in, I calmed myself and put on my best poker face as I continued the conversation.

“No, not that I know of.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yeah.”

“We have a number of phone conversations during that same week before the invasion. All of them were outgoing from your house. You don’t remember her having any phone conversations during the week?”

“Can’t remember what I never noticed, Paul.”

“Hmmm, I suppose we’ll just chalk that one up to old age, then. How much do you remember from your time in the war?”

“Enough.”

“Do you remember how you and Hildegard reunited during the war?”

“In a prisoner camp. What about it?”

“In a German prisoner camp, to be precise. Did she ever tell you how she got put in there?”

“For being an unmarried woman with a loud mouth during wartime? No, she never told me.”

“You got any idea why she was in there?”

“Obviously, I don’t.”

“Can you muster a guess?”

“No, I can’t. What does this have to do with her murder?”

Willy interjected for once, leaning forward as he said, “There’s a possibility of Hildegard being imprisoned for espionage. If so, that could have also led to her murder.”

“Really? A spy? My wife?” I scoffed, trying not to laugh at the notion of the most honest woman I’ve ever met in my life lying for a living, “What’s next? Y’all going to tell me that her name was actually Mata Hari?”

“The man she killed in your home was a German nationalist. Pissed soldier-turned-mercenary kind of bloke. Took us a few months to find out who he was,” Paul continued, keeping me off balance.

Feeling betrayed, I turned to Willy and demanded, “How long were you going to wait to tell me?”

Leaning away from me, Willy didn’t respond as Paul continued, “Alonzo, we need to know what happened to the other two arseholes who dragged away your wife.”

Still locking my eyes to Willy, I told him, “How in the hell would I know? The last time I saw them, they was wearing masks.”

“That’s a lie and we all know it.”

“You got any proof to make me a liar?”

“Where were you between the 22nd and the 27th of October?”

“Visiting family in California.”

“You don’t have family in California, mate. Your last living relative died in 1903.”

“There’s more to family than just blood, ‘Bonnie Boy’.”

“Can anyone account for your whereabouts from the 2nd to the 16th of November?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m a widow still mourning the loss of his wife! I was a shut-in if I wasn’t setting up this bakery.”

“Which is strange, innit? I’ve never heard of a widow deciding to become a baker less than half a year after his spouse dies. Most don’t have that kind of money nor drive in them to pursue a new profession.”

“My wife preferred me to be busy rather than in a stupor. I had savings from my boxing career. There’s your drive and money. What the hell are you trying to get at, boy?”

“You disappeared from home for extended periods of time on two separate occasions with no one able to confirm your whereabouts or actions except you. Seems a little too convenient to me.”

“That just seems to be the story of our relationship, don’t it?”

“Yeah, it does and that’s the problem, you old geezer! I’m missing two other suspects that can’t be identified in any way. However, the only two people the dead culprit was in close and consistent contact with here in the United States are now missing. Would you like to reckon a guess for when they were reported missing?”

“No, but I’m betting you’re about to tell me, Your Majesty.”

“Some time between the 22nd and 27th of October, an immigrant and housewife by the name of Madeline Weber was out doing errands and never returned home. At some point between the 2nd and the 16th of November, another immigrant named Josef Konig, a wealthy carpenter and philanthropist, vanished from his home and left the backdoor to his house open when he did.”

“And you’re saying all of this to say what, you fool-ass whipper snapper?”

“Those two had a few things in common with the dead culprit we pulled from the floor of your house. All three of them immigrated here from Germany back in 1920. Took the same ship. Was assigned the same room. Given special liberties and privacies in the ship. When they got off, they never met again until July of this year. They all came to the same diner here in Colorado, stayed in the same room at a rundown motel for a few weeks, paid exceptionally well for privacy, then Josef and Madeline left their separate ways as their third wheel was being studied by the coroner.”

“You still ain’t told me what the hell you’re saying all this for.”

“Three German immigrants who were oddly close but only for select reasons and times are now either dead or missing after your German wife died following a home invasion and kidnapping that involved three culprits, one of which was identified as a German immigrant. That’s a lot of coincidences and I don’t believe in coincidences, Alonzo.”

“You better start, then.”

“Tell me what you did to Josef Konig and Madeline Weber.”

“I didn’t do a damn thing to them. This is my first time hearing their names, Paulie.”

“Don’t ‘Paulie’ me, Alonzo. Don’t you do that to me. It’s obvious that you didn’t know who your wife was and that’s bothering you. You know that I know-”

“I know that you know you got a bunch of hunches about me putting a few people in the dirt and my wife being killed for being a German spy! But just like back in New York, you ain’t got no evidence to prove a goddamn thing!”

Paul snapped his pencil and Willy immediately put his hand on his shoulder to try to signal to him to stay calm. I continued shouting at him as he tried to.

“We’re in Colorado, Paulie! We’re landlocked. If I did make a few bodies, it should be easy for you to find them but who knows? Maybe the bodies are buried under six feet of dirt and three feet of snow. Maybe the bodies got fed to some hungry wolves up in them mountains nearby. Maybe the bodies ain’t even in the state no more, chopped up and driven away to the four corners of the world. Hell, maybe they’re alive and hiding like rats but, just like you, I don’t know! I don’t know what happened to those people and I hope you find them, Paul. I really do, but all I’m going to admit to is having a shattered heart and a broken mind. A shattered heart from having the love of my life stolen from me and a broken mind from finding her body tied to a tree, riddled with bullets like some goddamn ragdoll used for target practice! As for those folk who took her from me, all I know is that they wouldn’t have got nowhere near Hildy if I was just ten years younger!”

Shooting to my feet as anger broiled through me, I tossed the key to the shop at Willy’s chest and told him to lock up when they were finished. I stormed outside and into my vehicle behind the shop as Paul tried to chase after, shouting threats at me. I wasn’t hearing it at all. All I could hear now was the roar of an old boxing crowd cheering me on to start swinging at the fences and I was trying my damnedest to not give the people what they want. I drove off, returned home, locked every door and window then laid in bed with a bottle of whiskey on my nightstand. I stared at the ceiling until I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer.

Epilogue

The next morning was the most painful time I had waking up since the internment camp. I struggled to look to my right as my neck was stiffened by my age and Jack Frost’s winter snap. As with every morning since she died, I was hoping to see her smiling back at me. But like every morning since she died, the only thing I saw was an untouched pillow. I forced myself up to a seated position on my bed, groaning at my body loosening up. Every knuckle and joint cracked or popped into place as I lit a small lantern. As with every morning since Hildy’s passing, I shakily poured myself a shot of bourbon and downed it with one swift motion before making my way downstairs to prepare breakfast. The house continued to creak and settle as I made my way about my morning. To state the obvious, it’s been lonely since Hildy left. Each squeal from the wood panels and floorboards sounded like a footstep of hers. I had to fight myself so as not to look in the direction of them, constantly killing the hope in the back of my mind that she’ll just miraculously show up bathed in sunlight like an angel from a fever dream. I put a frozen box meal in the oven to slow cook for two hours, as I always do. She used to hate it when that’s all I wanted to eat, telling me that I should want “more flavor for my stomach”. I used to laugh whenever she said that. While the food warmed up, I made my way to the basement with about three bottles of water and my wrapping cloths. As with every morning, I wrapped my hands and began working over my punching bag. Occasionally, I would look over to Hildy’s stool next to the steps leading back upstairs. Most mornings, I swear that I’d see Hildy sitting there, drinking a soda as she watched me work. I heard her give me a “Remember your footwork!” this morning, instead. It nearly knocked the wind out of me upon hearing it. Realizing that it was just another creak of the house playing tricks on me, I continued my workout until I heard a knock at my door. Grabbing my water bottles and a small dish towel to wipe the sweat off, I slowly approached the door. Since the home invasion, I’ve kept a sawed-off on a night stand next to the front entrance. I kept my finger on its triggers as I swung the door open.

“Morning, Donny,” Willy greeted, unfazed by the shotgun pointed at his stomach.

Taking a moment to check around outside, I saw Paul in the car behind him with the engine still running as I asked, “Paulie ain’t feeling very sociable this morning?”

Looking back for a moment, Willy made eye contact with his partner before saying, “Nein. He’s going over notes again. I told him that I would only be a minute.”

He handed me my key to the bakery back as I placed my shotgun down. Before he could turn to leave, I asked, “Willy, what’s the name of the third kidnapper? The one Hildy shot?”

Giving a deep and uncomfortable sigh, he responded, “Donny, why do you want to know? He’s dead. Knowing his name isn’t going to help you.”

“Yes,” I told him, rubbing the key between my fingers, “It will, Wilhelm. It’ll help.”

Hearing me use his proper name, Willy responded, “Hugo. His name was Hugo.”

“No last name, huh?”

“He had seven different last names, Don. Only ‘Hugo’ was consistent.”

Sighing in relief after finally having a name for the third culprit, I asked, “You were never gonna tell me, huh, Willy? If I didn’t ask, I mean.”

His expression changed from relief to a solemn concern as he answered, “No, I wouldn’t have. I didn’t want to make things worse for you, so I didn’t want to bring you back in to the investigation in any way, if I could help it. You need time to mourn, Donny.”

Nodding in silence at his honesty, I told him to stay at the door for a moment as I rushed back to the kitchen. I opened the icebox and carefully pulled out a dish of Bavarian cream. I handed it to Willy and his eyes immediately began to water.

“She never gave me the family recipe,” I told him, handing him a piece of paper I found with it written on, “I pulled it out of her private lockbox a week after she passed. Took me a good month of trial and error to get it tasting close to hers.”

Wiping away tears, Willy replied, “I...uh...I never thought I would have it again. She used to make this for me when we were kids. Danke, Donny. Thank you a lot.”

I told him, “You’re still my little brother. Always will be,” as I pulled him in for a hug. His grip tightened as he shook a little bit. I walked with him back to Paul’s car. We apologized to each other and I told them not to be strangers as they left to continue investigating Hildy’s murder. I turned to return to my home but stopped for a moment when I noticed something odd. I’m a very private man with practically no one to send letters to and no reason to have anyone to send a letter to my house. Hildy was the same way, which helped us stick to ourselves just like we liked it. Nothing came into the mail for either of us unless it was some census letter or jury duty or the newspaper. However, I noticed that the door to the mailbox was slightly ajar. Sure, maybe the winds from the winter storm shook it around a bit. Or some neighborhood strays knocked the post and jostled it loose. You could call me paranoid if you want but it felt like someone moved it. When I checked inside, there was nothing but a web and a frozen spider inside, yet I swear that it got messed with. I slammed it shut and checked over both shoulders a few times as I headed back inside. After locking the door, I finished what was left of my workout in the basement before the timer dinged for my breakfast. I pulled out my box meal, set it on the counter to cool, then walked back upstairs to freshen up. I showered with hot water, feeling my chest tighten as I reminisced about Hildy again. Fixing myself in some casual clothes, I lit a few lanterns and candles downstairs as I prepared to enjoy my meal. I brought the box meal over to the couch on a wooden stand, flipped the radio on to our favorite jazz station, then continued the same daily routine I’ve had since my wife’s death whenever I wasn’t at the bakery. Pulling the table cloth off of my living room table, I stared down at a collection of photos and documents I retrieved from Hildegard’s lockbox after her passing. There was a number of photos showing her in an officer’s uniform, flanked by three others. The three people were all of similar height, size and build. Each photo was of different moments during the war, from training to combat to laboratories and even the internment camp. All of them had the same four people in them: Hildy and her three comrades. Their faces were scratched out, all except Hildy’s, but she wrote their names on each of them.

“Well, well, well,” I said out loud, drowned out by the jazz on the radio, “It seems that ‘Madeline’, ‘Josef’, and ‘Hugo’ were all pretty close to you at a certain point. Weren’t they, Hildy?”

Shuffling through some of the documents, I could barely make heads or tails out of them as they were all typed in German. I kept a separate notepad on a nearby end table with what German words I knew, trying to make sense with what little I had. An old friend of mine from the service helped confirm that the stamps and symbols were not only authentic, but were only used for official military orders. I’d been sifting through all of this since a week after she passed and, all the while, I’ve only felt like a dog chasing his own tail. Feeling the heat of frustration coming up again, I stood up, took a bite of my breakfast, and paced a little bit. It was a difficult pill to swallow, and I’m still trying to stomach it, but Paul was right. I didn’t know my wife, not like I thought I did. I was too blinded by love to wonder why she always stared out the window during the holidays. I was too awestruck to question why she flinched each time we drove over a pothole. I wanted to believe in her being the perfect woman so badly that I never bothered to probe her about the night terrors she experienced. All I ever did was hold her when she needed it, hugged her tighter when she wanted it, and gave her space when she didn’t want to talk about it. I should have done more for her while she was alive, but I can still help her rest in peace even if she hates to see me like this.

“Donny,” I heard her whisper, “You already got the ones who got me. Move on, meine Barchen. Please.”

Answering aloud, I told her, “I will, meine Liebe. I promise I will. There’s just something missing here. Once I find it, I promise. I’ll move on.”

For the final time, I felt her warm embrace as the sunlight washed over me from the nearby windows. I’m going to keep that promise. I know that I will keep that promise, but something else is here now and it’s something I haven’t felt since the war. That old drive and fire inside me was burning as I was finally given a purpose again. It’s a problem, I’ll admit it. It’s an addiction that I’ll never kick but the rush of having a clear purpose and goal has always kept me pushing forward. I love my wife, I do, and she’s right. I should move on. The people that killed her are dead and I’m too old to be flying to Germany to hunt down the person who put out the hit on my wife. I know that but this flame burning in my furnace. It’s too good to let go right now and I ain’t ready to let it go yet but I promised you, Hildy, and I’m gonna keep that promise. I will move on. Just as soon as I get a new reason to.

#Don Odell Alonzo #Call of Cthulhu RPG #short story #player character #backstory #1920s

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goldendaydna · 4 years ago

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This is just a post of me vaguely gesturing at things 87, 03, and 12 Leo has done with his “I don’t even know how to describe but I know it’s not smart” energy

‘Hey guys I'm gonna check out an alien sighting meet up place alone and not bother to at the very least take a disguise with me’

Spent entire nights in an arcade to beat one game he just *had* to beat the game and risked being discovered.

*Get's lost and doesn't have his fam there with him, Screams and gets more lost* ((This poor guy gets lost so much in 87 it’s pretty sad, directionally challenged and gets tunnel vision))

I mean sure he once got hit by a personality altering ray to make him more fun but that doesn’t change the fact that he deada** left a note to his fam that said "Ciao babies I'm off to have a good time. L" and that’s a whole mood

Mr. how can I find some way to solve my problems by using or throwing my katana in some way or form

87 Leo had memory issues and no one can tell me otherwise, there was even an episode that addressed the boys neglecting parts of taking care of themselves and like Donnie with his eyesight, Mikey with his ungodly amount of eating, I think Raph with some form of laziness? and I’m pretty sure Leo didn’t really get told anything; anyways so they see themselves in the future and their neglect turned into major issues in their old age and yeah Leo was so upset that he “... turned into a befuddled old coot” so yeah the universe just looked at blue boi and said lol yeah sorry bro

'I can avoid questions and situations by asking other questions and using kindness'

Threw lipsticks on a toaster painting for target practice

His turtle com voice mail at one point was: :D "Hi, this is Leonardo, I can't answer the turtle com right now, I'm off on a nightmare adventure from which I may never return." :D

Oop there goes the steering wheel ((This also happens more than once when he drives))

Got over his fear of snakes out of pure spite cuz two kids called him a coward and a snake man said snakes were better than turtles

“Ok, it’s not regular mail. I guess Mikey would call it *mimickes Mikey’s voice* Air Mail.”

Susceptible to peer pressure

He totally practices his hero lines

‘Lol a snake can’t fight! no hands or legs! *OOF*..... the risk I took was calculated but man am I bad at math‘

'Guys this sounds like a bad ide-' 'SHADDUP LEO'

Started a fight with Raph because "GIVE IT BACK!"

“YIKES! Excuse me sensei” because yes Leo, saving your dad from getting hit by a vehicle could possibly inconvenience him.

Kissed not one, but two plungers before realizing to his horror that yes he just kissed two plungers.

*Threw one of the biggest kiddie temper tantrums I have ever seen in a cartoon* like no lie he was on the floor and everything.

Mikey: Look, a glitch! Leo: Beg your pardon? (Thought Mikey said b***h, or that he may have called him or Donnie one, I dunno but it happened.)

His sport equipment of choice was a frigging scooter, nuff said.

'I AM SULKING AND EVERYONE KNOWS IT'

Talks to himself a lot and I respect that

'I am a failure and should not exist.'

He tries pretty hard to look cool.

Pouty frowny mc’pouter boi when he’s either annoyed or not amused or embarrassed

Reprimanded his brothers about silence then proceeded to fall off a roof and make all the noise in the world.

Leo: What’s going on? Donnie: I’m having the weirdest dream. Leo: You can’t be dreaming,*I’m* here. Donnie: CUZ I’M DREAMING YOU! (｀Д´) Leo: (¬､¬) *Maybe I’m dreaming you but you’re not dreaming me* ( ｰ`дｰ´) Donnie: (¬_¬)

"Halt villain!" holy stars he’s such a geek.

"Just like space heroes!" Leo’s relationship with this old cartoon in general. You legit just put the show on and he is just glued to it, he knows the lines, the scenes, just everything and tries to incorporate it in his everyday life and even missions.

A little girl told him about pinkies up when drinking tea ONCE and now it’s a mandatory practice.

He walked up to a seemingly harmless creature, said "mop mop" to mimic it then poked the thing and got his butt kicked; and this was AFTER he said “New rule no one touch anything.”

“You have a pineapple for a head!” *Looks and sounds shocked at the fact that he’s hallucinating Donnie’s head indeed being a pineapple but not as shocked as one would think*

*Mimics the weird Krang talk and makes a ‘Heh heh I am so funny’ face* ‘Hmm? Oh sorry, anyway-’

“Window cleaner on! Window cleaner off”

This blue dummy thought it was a good idea to hit on some random lady on a completely different hostile planet

The idea or even concept of him having shellacne just seems to offend him

“WE YOKAI WILL STEAL ALL OF YOUR SOULS, THROUGH YOUR BUTT!!! MWUA HA HA!!” ((I can just hear Donnie thinking “It’s important to be accurate” while his brother said that))

Bruh, I swear Leo seems like he lives in a constant state of dissociation like at least 87% of the time, like he’s there enough to where he can answer to people and take actions but he’s not entirely there.

Tried to catch toast with a plate ((Never ask 2012 Leo, Raph, and Donnie to make breakfast together it’s just gonna end poorly))

And this isn’t even covering everything there is so much more but this post is already long enough.

#my boy is many things. smart is not one of them #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #tmnt 1987 #teenage mutant ninja turtle 1987 #tmnt 2003 #teenage mutant ninja turtles 2003 #tmnt 2012 #teenage mutant ninja turtles 2012 #tmnt leonardo #I love him so much #long post

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rottmntrulesall · 4 years ago

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I wrote another drabble. This time, angst. Warning: what you're about to read is rather dark! So to other readers, go on at your own risk!

The battlefield.

The sight of fallen soldiers.

The area splashed and painted with the blood of the killed.

"N-No..."

"Y-You want to what....?"

"YOU WANT US TO END IT HERE?! NOW?! MONSRAGE, YOU [CENSORED] PIECE OF [CENSORED AGAIN]!! YOU DARE END THIS FOR THE SATISFACTIONS OF SOME WRINKLED UP OLD COOTS?!! FINE. GO. SUFFER THE REMAINDER OF YOUR MISERABLE [CENSORED THRICE] LIFE, YOU SON OF A [CENSORED FOR THE FOURTH TIME]!!! GOODBYE AND GOOD [FIFTH CENSOR], YOU [SIXTH TIME CENSORED] TURNCOAT!!!"

"He has none of my concern being the weakly runt he is. Give it to someone else, I don't care. Just get him out of my sight."

"YOU'RE GAY?! YOU RETARDED PIECE OF [CENSORED]!"

Punch!

"Well, I'm sorry that I was NOT the "perfect warrior son" you desired so much for our people, Father! I can't fulfill your whims and expectations-!"

Another punch.

"You either stop being a fagging, disgusting male whore or you'll suffer a fate even worse than death alone. Understood?"

"You are not my son. You never were."

"YOU EITHER DO AS YOU'RE TOLD TO DO OR GO WITHOUT ANY SUPPORT FROM ME OR YOUR MOTHER, got it, son?" The last part was filled with corrosive acid.

No, no....

"NOOO!!!" A humongous roar full of rage and agony shook the room along with the building. Monsrage bolted up from the bed, his entire body drenched with perspiration. His huge clawed hands flew up to his face, trying to not release whatever left of his outburst and causing another unwanted damage and waking up the inhabitants of the room.

Too late.

His door burst open. People came in.

"Grandpa, you ok?!" (Michelangelo)

"What happened?!" (Leonardo)

"Did you have a bad dream, grandps?!" (Raphael)

"Was it real bad?!" (Donatello)

"Man, ya old grandpa sure was loud, Donnie." (April)

"Mons, whatever's the matter?" (Chemia)

"Father, what caused you to be like this?" (Draxum)

"Are you alright, Monsrage?" (Splinter, holding a crying Venus)

"What happened?!" (The rest of the Hamato Clan)

The predator beast yokai warrior covered his face in great shame, trying to hide his humiliation in front of so many people. Most of all, to the one person he did not want to expose his weakness in front of...

Hikari, the very mortal who rekindled his long buried emotions and ability to feel love once more...

#siblings au #Monsrage #family au #hamato hikari #hikamon #tag warnings include mentions of child neglectence abuse and homophobia #mons's sire was a neglectful and old way abiding minded dick #submission

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yellowhollyhock · 23 days ago

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TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS ON TMNT COOTS PLS PLS PLS

ehehehehehe

So the tour itself is very.. campy? idk if that's the correct word but ah,, if secondhand embarrassment is hard for you it might not be your thing. (I eat that stuff up like a thirty something dudebro eating up hot sauce when the guys are watching like 'look how much I can withstand I think I might not be human 😤💪'). It's some cheesiness

Now, that being warned,

It's so much fun I'm so excited for you to see it!

So to get a sense of it, their personalities are most similar to the tmnt 90s movie trilogy. I personally see coots as its own separate thing, but if you've seen those that can give you kind of a baseline of what to expect

Mikey is kinda the one taking the lead, which is super fun! Him and Raph are the more extroverted performers, with Mikey writing the lyrics and Raph writing the music. I really love how much coots highlights their friendship ❤️��

Leo and Donnie are more chilling in the background compared to iterations focused in fighting. Leo is still really good with the audience, though! He just has a reassuring manner, like calm and in control. You know, Leo stuff.

Donnie is my favorite, as usual fjshakaks 💜 He loves dancing so much, like you can tell the performer is having fun with it! He also makes a cloaking device out of a credit card, which is just sheer cartoon logic technobabble, but taking it watsonianly for funsies I think it puts him up there as far as like,, idk how to explain. He could flex on the other Donnies. He wouldn't because he's pretty mild-mannered, doesn't seem to want the spotlight, but he could and probably would if pressed.

All of them love April and Splinter so much! It's very sweet. Splinter teaches them to sing because music is a way to put good out into the world, as opposed to fighting which puts them always on the defense against evil. They are still ninjas but they are choosing to use their music skills instead.

Also when Shredder gets his turn on stage he roasts the kids in the audience. He's very fun

I like the idea of putting these guys through the most extra,, what's it called,, giving these guys Tropes and Situations. I'm having forgotten words.

Things like

-Mikey gets obsessed with personality quizzes, they all get a little too invested and act out based on the results (ie if Donnie's says anything about being charismatic or dazzling, he's gonna lean into being a total show off even tho that's not usually him, if Leo's says something about not being assertive enough he's going to become very bossy, stuff like that)

-Leo gets caught secretly writing songs. Maybe even a love song which when he songs because of a Contrived Plot will be in the presence of his crush and they will kiss at the end

-Shredder gets Stockman to make a machine that forces the turtles to say the opposite of what they mean, causing conflict until they defeat him with a song about not always saying what they mean (this is how the show is like. you'll see)

Overall it's a very shamelessly cheesy very extra kind of vibe and that makes it a fun space to play in

Also, fic rec! cuz I just reread this the other day and it's so excellent. @whattraintracks wrote about Leo struggling with all the traveling

#tmnt #tmnt coots #it's so fun!

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aurora-the-kunoichi · 4 years ago

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For The Love Of Shell - Chapter 40 Unhappy Reunion (FTLOS)

Here is chapter forty of my OC story For The Love Of Shell.

His blue bandana whipped around his green skull snapping and fluttering against his sweat soaked brow. Massive three fingered hands clutched nervously at the blue hilts of his katanas as the plates of his chest heaved with exertion.

Just the sight of his giant exceptionally toned body made every part of her woman hood clench in knee jerk reaction. Besides catching him and bunny foo foo in the street this morning this was the closest she’d come to blue banded terrapin in a year. It was unfair; he still took her breath away and by the extra bulk on his arms and legs he had be dedicated to his self improvement.

A thin layer of sweat covered his green skin from his earlier victorious battles. The icy blue pools of his intoxicating gaze locked in on her purple ones and for a moment she forgot to breath. Involuntary she let out a whimper grasping her katana tighter, the leather creaking beneath her strength. She knew there was a chance she would face one of them in here but why, why did it have to be him? And why did he have to look so good? This was going to be harder then she had originally thought.

Almost instantly Leonardo’s famous concentration broke and his blades lowered. “Aurora..” he began sheathing a katana to reach for her. Leo ignored his role in this tournament and tried to talk to her but Aurora shook her head stopping the terrapin before he could continue.

“Don’t Leonardo.” She virtually snarled, “Please…… don’t do that. I can’t deal with you right now. I need to concentrate, we need to concentrate. I don’t want to hear it anyways. You made your point loud and clear this morning.” Not giving him another moment to rethink his strategy Aurora dove for him, blades aimed for the soft spot between his carapace and his plastron. The soft corded muscles that she had loved to touch, to kiss. “Stop that!” she scolded herself concentrating on her fight she was determined to win.

His full name from her lips stung more then he cared to admit. She looked beautiful as ever, the year away had been good to her. He was fascinated with the purple streak in her hair; it seemed to enhance her features but he figured she could have done anything and he would be enthralled. It was true what they say, absence does make the heart grow fonder.

He could feel his body begin to ache. It all came rushing to him realizing how much he missed her, how much he still loved her. Even the harsh tone of her voice made his heart beat faster with longing. There was nothing more he wanted to do then gather her in his arms and kiss her, claim her, mark her. Kiss her deep enough that she would forgot about everything he had foolishly done and be part of their lives again. But there would be no easy fix, he could see the resentment and pain in her eyes, Aurora would have none of it right now, maybe not ever again. Suddenly her eyes darkened, and she lunged for him with such ferociousness that it caught him off guard. The sheer force of her blow sent him stumbling back trying frantically to regain his footing before he fell on his shell.

She was on him in a second, their blades grinding against each other creating sparks from the immense friction. But the large body in front of her made her weak, made it extremely difficult to think clearly, especially being so close to him. Even his god damn smell was distracting! If she didn’t get a hold of herself she was going to lose to him and that just wasn’t an option. Not after everything, she had to win she had to prove to him, to herself she was strong and didn’t need him to be happy. Every ounce of her pain flowed through her, engulfing her in the warmth of her thundering passion for the blue terrapin, fueling her resolve. Focus!

Ue-Sama watched high above the nexus championship his eyes trained in on one battle and one battle only. Aurora attacked Leonardo with everything she had taking the large mutant by surprise. He barely had to time to defend himself as she struck again and again determined to win. It took Leonardo a few minutes to gather himself and start to attack back but Ue-Sama could tell by Leonardo’s reaction time he was not focused on the battle but on the woman. The woman who looked like she wanted to end him with every swing of her blade and thrusting kick of her leg. She had the power within her to do it too, he knew it, saw it when his father tapped into it with his staff. The raw power that flowed within her small frame was enormous and he wanted it, needed it. She had no idea how to harness the power she possessed, and he could mold her into what he needed her to be. Aurora would be a crucial part of his plan and he had to figure out how to keep her here with him. And with how she was looking at the turtle at this very moment he didn’t think it was going to be as difficult as he first thought.

When she was brought to the palace by Gyoji this morning his father had asked where the turtles were. Much to his delight Aurora told them how Leonardo had ended things between them urging her to move on with her life finding normalcy. It had been a year since she had seen them and was trying not to interact with them as much as possible. She knew there was a chance they would meet in battle but hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Now she was wiping the floor with the blue leader wearing him out ready to end the inevitable. Or could it be he was letting her win? He shook his head, it didn’t matter either way she was upset with him and maybe would be inclined to stay with him.

Moving from the balcony that over looked the battle Ue-Sama sauntered back into the palace and headed towards his wing opening the door to his personal dojo. In the far corner lurked a large cloaked figure it’s glowing eyes fixed on the young prince.

“My lord.” It smiled wickedly stepping into the light, its hulking frame towing over Ue-Sama. “I think this woman will only cause trouble with your plan. If she is anything like the turtles and that blasted rat she will not be persuaded to help you over throw your father as Daimyo. She is growing rather fond of the old coot and I would doubt she’d wish any ill will on him.”

“Quiet your tongue you insect! Remember your place here, you are my counsel nothing more. I do what I want, and I want her. You didn’t see the power, the shear raw energy within her body. She will be a pivotal part in all of this and she will have to agree. She’ll see what’s at stake and will want her own piece of the pie. Woman always want to be in control, to be part of the power of a Daimyo. My father had no problem finding wives. She won’t be able to resist me once I’m Daimyo.”

The large figure narrowed its eyes in frustration lowering its body’s height in an awkward bow to show submission, “As you wish my Daimyo.” It cooed softly before shifting back into the shadows.

Leo had definitely gotten better since the last time they had squared off; she was out of breath, her chest heaving from the effort she had to put into defending herself. With the back of her hand she wiped the sweat from her brow. Every flex of his impressive biceps or pulse of his thigh muscles sent heat rushing between her thighs. Even his goddamned heavy breathing was affecting her. “Fuck!” she screamed internally. He shouldn’t be affecting her this much. It had already been a year! He swayed nimbly on the balls of his feet, his katanas out and ready before him. She could tell he was ready to strike the coil of his calves gave him away. Ready for his next move Aurora sheathed her katanas and slid forward on her knees ducking below his next attack grabbing a hold of his wrists pulling him down and over. Sailing between his open legs she pulled him into an unsuspecting summersault making him land on his shell. Aurora didn’t give him time to react; she spun him on his carapace to face her and straddled his narrow hips. Pulling a kunai from her thigh holster she brought it down on his plastron.

Before it could connect with the plates of his chest Leo’s eyes widened in shock and his body disappeared beneath her in a blue dust taking him from the competition. As her body settled on the ground Aurora let out a shaky breath closing her eyes holding back unshed tears.

Leonardo reappeared in the medical wing of the palace with Raphael looking down on him with a shit eating grin. “Who took ya out?” he laughed helping Leo to his feet.

“Aurora.”

“Oh shell! Man that’s rough! Did she say anything to you?”

“I tried to talk to her but she wasn’t having any of it. You should have seen her Raph; it looked like she wanted to actually kill me. But shell, it was hard to concentrate having her so close.”

“Well fearless you did break up with her and then the first time she sees you , Asuna has her tongue down your throat. I can’t say I blame her.” The red banded turtle didn’t help as he patted his older brother’s shell.

“Yeah yeah, I got it, I messed up. If I could go back in time I would.” Leo waved his brother’s hands away from his back while they made their way out into the halls of the palace to watch the rest of the games from the contestant’s row.

Donnie lasted two more rounds while Aurora and Mikey dominated defeating each of their competitors with ease. Begrudgingly Donnie took up the seat next to his brothers sitting down with a frustrated huff his arms crossed over his chest. Leo put his arm around his brother pulling him into an awkward side hug before playfully pushing back away with a deep chuckle.

Raph was intently watching their younger brother flip and maneuver around his latest victim, there was no doubt that little shit was faster than the rest of them, and way more flexible to boot. He was without a doubt holding back during practice. He turned his head to face Leo but his eyes remained on the dizzying display of talent just below them. “You know if he wins this thing, we’ll never hear the end of it…..you know that right?”

Leo and Donnie smiled nodding as they watched their little brother use all of his training bringing his nunchaku down ending yet another fight. They watched their orange banded brother search the crowd for their faces hoping they were watching him. The grin that spread over his face when he found each one of them howling for him couldn’t have compared to the brightness of the sun.

He bowed to them and returned his gaze to Master Splinter who had the very familiar proud papa gleam. Mikey bowed to his father as well, a silent think you for giving him the tools he needed to get this far.

As the rest of the matches ended the partitions retracted revealing the last of the contestants. Mikey stood near his brothers in the arena as Aurora was revealed farthest away just as she was sheathing her katanas. A large purple anthropomorphic pig to their left lifted his hands above his head letting out a triumphant roar and crablike alien turned a few times hyping itself up but made no noise. The roaring crowd died down when the Daimyo and Ue-Sama rose.

“Congratulations to our final four warriors! You have come a long way to get to this point. Your skill and stamina is a true testament to the hard work you’ve done to get where you are today. We thank you for sharing your talent with us all this day. Now there are two more matches before we declare a new battle nexus champion and I’m sure you all are excited to see this championship to fruition. When this battle is over and two remain the walls will drop and will go directly into the championship. Good luck to you four.”

Aurora made quick eye contact with Mikey as the partition rose giving her a quick playful wink before he disappeared behind the large wall. This time Aurora wasn’t engulfed by the light and stayed where she was. After a few seconds the blue light swirled in front of her and the crablike alien appeared before her. It looked her up and down all the while snapping it’s pinchers and began to laugh, a deep crackling laugh that reminded her of a sputtering diesel engine.

“This will be easy, a stupid human woman cannot beat Klarkapil!” its pinchers snapped quickly in front of his large awkward body before he shuffled forward on his many thick legs.

Aurora roller eyes at the alien wondering how something so large and awkward could have gotten so far in the tournament? The answer soon came when its pinchers came at her with impressive speed snapping at her throat. With a quick yelp of surprise Aurora dodged the alien crustacean’s snappers rolling to the right pulling her katanas free.

“Yes woman run away from Klarkapil! Tremble with fear at my size and speed!”

This thing was way too cocky and was beginning to annoy her as it circled around clucking about how good it was and how scared she should be. Maybe that was part of its shtick, to annoy her into submission? Again a pitcher lunged for her this time snapping at her leg but she managed to evade the snapping appendage. She had to be careful this thing was fast and vicious. Despite the alien’s bulky frame it was able to move very quickly and its pincher’ aim was precise.

As it rattled off more sexists insults Aurora figured out how she could avoid its pinches and end the battle. It seemed too concerned with putting her down to come up with any kind of strategy let alone pay attention to what she was devising. He was too cocky and wouldn’t be able to resist her trap. Blocking another pincher she flipped through the air and landed several feet in front of him and sheathed her swords and knelt on the floor closing her eyes and waited.

Almost immediately the crustacean laughed and rushed forward ready to claim his victory. Its pinchers reared up and snapped in preparation before they came down ready to crush the woman below. As they connected with hard ground he gasped in surprise seeing the spot where she had just been empty.

Aurora rolled beneath the large circular body and popped up behind pulling her tantou free from its sheath behind her back. Crouching down she sprung forward onto the aliens back landing just behind’s its head. As she brought her blade down she whispered into the once smug alien’s ear. “You were just beaten by a woman.” Before the blade connected with its shell its scream of dismay disappeared with its large body in a blue dust of defeat. When her feet connected with the ground the crowd roared with a thunderous applause as she stood to her full height. Looking around the spectators she saw happy ecstatic faces, especially from all the females. Sheathing the tantou behind her back once again she took a moment to celebrate and raised both hands into the air with a shout.

Turning around she saw Master Splinter smiling down at her his furry hands clapping with the crowds applause. He looked so proud of her as if he had watched her grown up and develop into the woman she was now. Her heart broke a little at that thought; would she ever be able to spend time with the old rat again? She had a feeling she could still learn a few things from him.

The movement of the walls indicated the match beside her had ended and she was about to see who she would be fighting for the championship. Soon the familiar green scalp of Michelangelo appeared as the partition began to recede into the ground. Then his baby blue’s framed by his signature orange mask came into view as his eye ridges waging with mischief. She would be fighting the youngest of the turtles for the win, adjusting her stance she placed her hands on her hips waiting for the turtle to be fully exposed to her. Before it was fully recessed in the ground Mikey stepped over the wall and into her space closing the distance between them, his nunchaku hung loosely from his fingers.

“Fancy seeing you here Angel cakes. Long time no see.” He cooed stopping a few feet from her.

Tears began to prick her eyes threatening to spill as she took in the warm sight of the young turtle. She missed them so much it hurt. Being this close to him was ripping every bit of strength from her tearing away at her sanity. Her lips began to quiver but bit her bottom lip to stop it. She needed to get this over with so she could win or lose and go home. Pulling her katana from her sheaths she readied her stance. Doing her best to blink away the offending tears in her eyes she gave him a small smile. She didn’t want to be mean to him he just didn’t understand how much it hurt to see him and not be able to touch him, hold him, kiss those rosy cheeks of his.

“Hey Mikey, are you ready?”

“For you? Always.” He started spinning his weapons with his wrists. “Ladies first.”

Mikey could see the pain flash over her face as he got close to her, could see the tears welling up glossing over her purple iris’s. It actually pained her to see him and that tore at the very fibers of his being. The last thing he wanted for her to feel in his presence was pain let alone him making her feel that way. Leo needed to fix this and fast. He wanted to touch her to tell her how much he missed her but unfortunately this wasn’t the time. He had a championship to win and Aurora was the only one standing in his way. He wouldn’t like defeating her but if that was the way to prove to his father and brothers he was an equal part of this family then so be it. He had been training for a year for this moment. He wasn’t going to let it pass him by even if it was Aurora in his way of his victory. He could do this.

Leo, Raph and Donnie were standing now with the rest of the audience, there was too much sweet anticipation running through the crowd to stay seated. Below them their baby brother and Aurora were about to fight for the title of Battle Nexus Champion.

“She’s gonna mop the floor with him.” Raph laughed gripping Leo’s shoulder a little too tight.

“I don’t know Raph, you’ve seen him the past few matches. This is the best I’ve ever seen him. I think he has a chance against her. It might be slim but there is still a chance.” Leo winched feeling Raph’s fingers bite into the soft tissue of his shoulder. His fingers reached up prying the three digits from their perch.

“Oh sorry Leo, just a little excited. Man, I need some popcorn.”

Instead of attacking Aurora began circling the orange turtle, it had been a year since she had taken him on. Leo had improved significantly and had almost won, there was no doubt Mikey had gotten better as well. Hell, he had made it to the end and not his brothers. That alone was a sobering thought. How good had Mikey gotten? This was going to be fun figuring it out.

His eyes never left her as she circled him watching him move. No doubt looking for some sort of tell or a moment when he wasn’t paying attention. But if she was waiting for that she was going to be sorely disappointed, she was the only thing on his radar. She had his full attention. The clink of his chains on his nunchaku while they spun were the only sounds in the arena, the crowd was eerily quiet fixed on the two final warriors of the championship anxious for a winner.

The ball of her boot shifted across the ground scraping against the sand and dirt. Her fingers flexed with the tightly bound leather and silk of her katana handles. Aurora was ready as she’d ever be, it was time. Bending at the knee she dug her foot down and launched forward.

If Mikey had a strategy she couldn’t figure it out. With each attack she doled out his wide but nimble body flipped and darted away. She wasn’t landing nearly as many hits as she wanted too by now. His speed had increased and his ability to perceive what his opponent was going to do next was finely tuned. Mikey was quickly becoming better than his brothers. She was seriously impressed. Even his flexibility had gotten better.

“Jesus Mikey are you made of rubber?” Aurora laughed landing behind him, giving his carapace a swift kick sending him forward onto his knees.

“This turtle got skills yo.” He chuckled lifting his nunchaku up taking the brunt of her katana.

Aurora jumped up and swiped her leg across his body hitting him square in his chest. While he tumbled backwards onto his back she flipped forward landing on top of him bringing her blade down once again “Well color me impressed.”

Catching her blade on the chains of his weapon his legs came forward wrapping around her neck, his feet locking around the back of her head. He heard her startled gasp when he rocked forward bringing her down on her back with his large hand pressing down on her abdomen holding her in place. Her purple eyes wild with shock he raised his weapon above his head ready to make the final strike. Mikey grinned down at her squished face when a smile crept over her flushed checks. She was pinned and could nothing more to stop him, the fight was over. His hand hesitated faulting just above his head.

Her voice broke though his jumbled thoughts. “Do it Mikey, you won, end this.” Her eye filled with pride she nodded but he could tell she was still trying to break free even though he had her immobilized indefinitely.

Bringing down his nunchaku she disintegrated into blue dust eliminating her from the tournament leaving him the battle nexus champion. The crowd broke out into a deafening roar as he stood claiming his title. His eyes found his three brothers in the stands all on their feet screaming for him. They looked so proud.

Aurora found herself lying on the floor of the healer’s quarters in the palace with three healers hovering over her. “I’m fine. No injuries. Just a bruised pride.” She reassured the three concerned healers who nodded and let her be. She sat there for a moment catching her breath with her forearm over her eyes. At least she made it to second place, after all the competitors she saw today, she was lucky to get that far. At least she lost to sweet Mikey, he deserved it, the lovable goof.” Again, emotions bubbled up from her gut, she had been so close to Leo and Mikey reminding her what she had lost a year ago. “Fuck.” She mumbled under her breath holding back tears for the fourth time today. She needed to get out of there, she had no doubt they would come looking for her and that was something she wasn’t ready to deal with just yet. Especially Leo, she knew she couldn’t trust herself around him. Just being a few feet from the tall muscular turtle in blue sent her traitorous body into heat. But the swish of a long tail across the floor told her she was too late. Removing her arm from her face she sat up to meet Master Splinter’s warm stare.

“You did splendid my dear.” He cooed as he watched her get to her feet.

Retuning her katanas to their sheaths she bowed to the old rat. “Thank you, Master Splinter. Your sons fought well today, they have improved significantly. Your training has paid off.”

Master Splinter’s dark iris’s seemed to flood with emotion as he neared the woman he hadn’t seen in a year. His small furry hands came out and took hers; he could feel her tense a little at the contact. With a little tug he urged her to lower to his height, after a few moments she obliged the old rat and met him eye to eye.

“They have trained hard this year plus the extra patrols around the city because of the rise in crime have kept them in top physical form. Leonardo has been pushing them to better themselves, to keep their minds moving. He has been trying to keep his mind from wandering to something he lost, something he regrets letting go.”

Splinter didn’t need to say it, she knew he was talking about her. Pulling her fingers from his hands she stood back up to her full height and turned her gaze from the old rat. “It was good to see you Master Splinter.” And with that she turned from him and disappeared down the hallway.

She flew down the hallway running for the room she was provided for the tournament by the Daimyo, for some privacy. As she turned down the final hall she ran smack dab into a tall sturdy body. Arms grabbed for her steadying Aurora’s rocketing form. She pulled herself away from the warm body looking up to see red hair and green eyes.

“Ue-Sama. I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking to wh..”

“Aurora I’ve been looking for you. I am sorry you lost to one of those troublesome terrapins. Are you alright?” his hands rested on her hips keeping her close to him.

She didn’t fight it for now, but she still wanted to be alone, and she especially didn’t want to deal with Ue-Sama’s bullshit right now. “I’m fine, Mikey deserved to win, he did an excellent job today.”

“Then why are you running? You seem upset, is there anything I can do to help?”

Aurora put her hands on his chest pressing gently trying to discreetly let the red haired ninja aware she wanted to be released from his grasp. But it went unnoticed; actually it felt like he pulled her a little closer. “I’m not upset because I lost; I’m upset because seeing the turtles for the first time hurts, hurts more than I thought it would.” Again she pushed, a little harder but his determined hands remained on her hips.

With the speed of a true ninja, his arms shifted from her hips and enclosed around her back spinning them, so he could press her up against the wall. The sheer speed of his movements along with being caught off guard sent her mind spinning unable to stop what happened next. Ue-Sama leaned down and slanted his mouth over hers pressing his tongue into Aurora’s mouth moaning as his questing tongue found hers.

His knee slipped forward parting her thighs pressing up against her core grinding his crotch against her thigh. Her mind reeled at the unwarranted advance. His lips were rough and impatient taking the kiss, nothing like Leo’s. There was no passion, no gentle urging just pressing and pushing, taking. Leo’s kiss sent heat coursing through her body making every part of her tingle with anticipation. This was nothing like that, she didn’t want him, she wanted Leo, god she missed Leo.

Everything rushed back to her and she panicked pushing against his chest frantically desperate to end the kiss. She tore her mouth from his gasping for breath. “Ue-Sama!” she yelped looking up at him in dismay. Pushing him further from her Aurora glared at the red haired ninja.

“Please, I’m sorry for that, I just can’t help myself. Let me help you, help you forget him, help you forget them.” He moved forward reaching for her yet again.

Aurora held up her hands stopping his advance. “Please stop, I appreciate the offer, but you can’t just do that Ue-Sama. I gave you no indication I wanted to be kissed. Just a few seconds ago I told you that I was clearly not over…… I - I just can’t do this right now.” Without giving him a second to respond she spun around and ran to her room escaping inside.

Ue-Sama was fuming when he finally reached his room. His hands were clenched trembling with the force of it. A large cloaked figure emerged from the shadows edging up behind the red haired ninja.

“What troubles you my Daimyo?” it smoothly questioned it’s red glowing eyes flashed behind the dark cloak.

With a pained grunt Ue-Sama’s fist collided with the rough walls of his massive room. “I will never have her if those pesky turtles are still around. Even after a year she still has feeling for them, especially Leonardo, curse that turtle! I kissed her, I kiss her with all the passion within me and she pushed me away like I was on fire.”

“Maybe it’s time to let her go my Daimyo? She will never go along with your plan and once she finds out she will tell the turtles and they will do all that they can to stop us. I believe it’s time take care of the meddlesome turtles before they become wise to our plans, while their guard is down as they celebrate. I can send my shadow ninjas to take care of them, take care of them all.”

Ue-Sama strode to his window and looked down at the arena filled with the contestants of his father’s tournament. His heated gaze narrowed in on the four turtles in the center of the arena celebrating with the rest of the competitors. His anger grew as he stared at the turtle in blue patting his younger sibling on the back. How did Aurora find that monster of a mutation attractive and not him? He was a prince in his own right, primed and ready to take over the throne from his father. He had so much more to offer her then a smelly sewer, three brothers and a giant rat? He would have the throne and Aurora with her power if it was the last thing he did. He spun around to face his counsel and growled his order, “Destroy those turtles and you can do what you will with the rat as promised but do NOT harm the woman. After they’re gone she’ll have no one and will fall into my arms. Especially when I am sitting on the throne with the war staff in my hand and control the Battle Nexus Championship.”

@imthegreenfairy88 @alonia143 @ravn-87 @bluesakurablossom

Here it is in its entirety

#tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt fandom #tmnt fic #TMNT TMNT fanfiction #Fortheloveofshell #Chapter 40 #Aurora

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bootyyy-shaker9000 · 5 years ago

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My f/o being bayverse Donnie I just painted my nails purple and it's the 1st time in like 4 years I paint my nails and I forgot how satisfying it was :3

!!! Das coot <3

#ask #ask game #arlo answers

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ohmylovelyass · 6 years ago

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Them coot green Bois!

Donnie is bae.

#sexy #cute #coot #red #purple #blue #orange #donnie #mikey #raph #leo #tmnt #TMNT #Rise #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise tmnt #Rise TMNT #opening

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tomorrowusa · 5 years ago

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Check out the video in this tweet. Did you somehow fail to hear an upper middle class white coot in a golf cart screaming “white power!”? The White House is expecting Americans to believe that Trump didn’t hear it.

Donald Trump retweeted the vid with a message of support.

After several hours of outrage, even from a few Republicans, Trump removed his tweet.

The White House deputy press secretary Judd Deere claimed that Trump didn’t hear the racist in the golf cart screaming “white power!” in the vid. Somebody should have put Deere on the spot by asking whether Dementia Donny’s hearing was declining as quickly as his sanity.

Cody Keenan was Director of Speechwriting for President Barack Obama. On Twitter, Mr. Keenen pointed out what was really going on with Trump’s racist tweeting.

Indeed. Trump’s base is in gradual decline. So he and the GOP need to fire them up 24/7. They need every single racist geezer in a golf cart in a gated community to know that the Trump Republicans still fervently stand for white supremacy. But the GOP knows that white supremacy is not good for public relations and so the party needs a fig leaf of plausible deniability to hide behind.

#trump 2000 #donald trump #racism #white power #republicans #twitter #white supremacy #the villages #golf cart #judd deere #cody keenan #election 2000

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kailydica · 7 years ago

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Life and Regrets of Scrooge McDuck, Ch. 2

AO3 link: Here FFNet link: Here Category: Gen Main tags: Angst, Family Feels, Fluff Summary: Donald and Della get the news. Della tries. Donald doesn’t.

Aaaah this was... painful? Donald has a lot of feels for such a tiny duckling. I died ok. Died. Anyway enjoy <3

Donald Duck hated one thing more than anything, and that was change. The last few months had been both infuriating and terribly, terribly lonely. So if he’d acted ‘tetchier than usual’ when Grandma told him and Della that they were going to live with that idiot Uncle Scrooge, that was not his fault at all. He just wanted things to stay calm and quiet for once. Was that too much to ask for?

Apparently, yes.

He felt like in one of those old novels Ma used to read to them when they were younger, about wealthy girls in India who lose their parents and have to go live with a rich, angry uncle. Except he and Della had never gone to India, just to Scotland, and the rich, angry uncle they had to live with had no chance of ever becoming a good duck. He knew it. Della tried to be more optimistic, but they both had heard Ma’s stories about the greedy and miserable Scrooge McDuck, once the pride of their clan, now the most hated survivor of it. There was no way a guy like that, who hurt Ma, Pa and even Aunt Matilda (who is that evil? Aunt Matilda is the best!!) could ever have a redemption arc or whatever Della calls those things where the bad guy becomes good.

And yet, here they were. Grandma Duck was amazing, always cooked the most delicious things, but Donald knew she was having trouble. A farm is a huge place, with many people who need to be paid, and Donald and Della were a bit of a nuisance, not that Grandma would ever call them that. In her eyes, they were her darling ducklings, but family love was one thing. Economy was quite another.

Something told Donald that Ma wouldn’t approve of such a concept. Sounded too much like old Scrooge, she’d say. But he was just being practical, not cruel.

“I bet he’s actually nicer than we think,” said Della, her usual carefree demeanor a bit damped. Donald scoffed, dismissing his sister’s feeble attempt at optimism.

“He didn’t go to Ma and Pa’s funeral,” he snapped, feeling like that was more than enough proof of his uncle’s character. “I didn’t even know him before this. Ma hated him.”

Della sighed. Sometimes Donald was too stubborn. “Pa always said Ma should have given Uncle Scrooge another chance. Maybe we are that chance, Donnie.”

“Old people don’t change, Dells. I’m sure he’s always cranky, always worried about his money, and never even considers sending a damn letter to his family.” Donald kicked one of his hats, looking forlornly at the sad state of the room he and Della had stayed in for the few months they spent with Grandma. Now it was filled with boxes, chests and two small suitcases, one for each, with what they deemed their most important possessions and a change of clothes. Everything else would be in a moving van behind Scrooge's car, so the whole ordeal would be done and over with by supper.

Della gasped at the words of his brother. "Language, Donnie!" She exclaimed, and then sat on her bed. "I know it seems super terrible right now, but things will get better, I promise." Donald scoffed once more. Frustrated, Della thought of an idea to make her stubborn twin agree with her for once. "Fine, okay. He's gonna be terrible, and angry, and will only care about his money. But just because Uncle Scrooge could be a grumpy old duck doesn't mean we have to become grumpy too! It's going to be a huge mansion, and Uncle Scrooge won't be seeing us often. I'd be surprised if he actually goes to eat dinner with us once in the whole month." Della saw that Donald had stopped, clearly considering what she was saying, and continued, "A huge mansion just for us. Even if he's a skinflint, he has to keep appearances, buy us food and good clothes, so we'll be okay."

Donald twisted his beak slightly, thinking. What Della was suggesting wasn't that far off-- after all, he knew the world their uncle must be living in had to be different from what they knew. Uncle Scrooge was constantly in the cover of newspapers everywhere, and they talked about him on the radio like he was a very important person. It was very possible that now they'd be famous, too, and their appearances would tell people whether their uncle was a good or bad duck. And that would change his business.

Della was a genius .

"We have each other." Donald whispered, feeling the truth of those words in his very bones. Whatever may happen, he was going to have Della by his side. They hatched together, they would stay together no matter what. Together, nothing would stay in their way. "Even if Scrooge ends up being terrible, he won't be so bad if we have each other." Della nodded eagerly, happy to see her brother had some optimism going on for him.

"Yes! And I promise, together or not at all. Like the Three Musketeers!" And here Della took a baseball bat of Donald's and started swinging it around, acting as if it was a sword, "except we're, well, two. But that doesn't matter!" Donald laughed at his twin's antics. Della always knew how to cheer him up.

"Whatever you say, sis. Now c'mon, we have to keep packing all this stuff."

Della stuck her tongue out at him. “You’re only acting like the big brother because you secretly like the idea of us going to live with a rich uncle. Even if he’s a skinflint.” She took out an old dusty trunk, opening it up and haphazardly throwing several items of clothing in it.

“Can you blame me?” Donald frowned, trying to both hide a smile and keep Della from throwing everything around. “The best thing of us leaving is that Gladstone won’t follow us. Ha!” He laughed, even though he got a stray t-shirt on top of his head, “just imagine! For once I’m luckier than Gladstone Gander!”

“You just said Uncle Scrooge is cranky, greedy and doesn’t care about family. How is that luckier than getting to be in the farm with Grandma?” Della asked, looking at Donald like he grew a second head. But her brother was relentless, and kept laughing merrily, folding the clothes already in the trunk to make sure the space was efficiently used. Della snorted. “C’mon, you big nerd. You can tell me.”

“ Because , Dumbella, Uncle Scrooge may be cranky, and greedy and uncaring, but he still won’t take Gladstone with him. That’s more than enough luck in my book.”

“Don’t call me Dumbella!” Della shrieked, and threw herself on top of Donald, who started giggling hysterically, as Della tickled him.” “You know I hate it!” “If--- pfaahahah-- if you hate it so much, why are you laughing?!” Donald wheezed, trying to get Della off of him. “You’ll always be Dumbella, Dumbella.”

“Noooo!!!!”

Their laughs echoed through the walls and down the hall, but no one had the heart to make them stop. For once, they’d be allowed to laugh as heartily as they wanted.

***

The next day, tiny Gus Goose woke them up with the news of their grandma calling them down to breakfast. As fast as they could, Donald and Della got ready, made sure everything was properly packed, and went downstairs.

Of course, Gus failed to inform the kids that Grandma wasn’t the only one waiting for them, as he only thought of the food he’d be eating soon. As it was, the kids were completely unprepared for what was their second meeting with one Scrooge McDuck.

The children looked, astonished, as the old duck they had always seen in the newspaper, hailed as the great business pioneer that made Duckburg the bustling metropolis that it was becoming now, arrived right in front of them. Somehow his presence seemed both larger than life and more realistic than they had thought it’d be, and Donald thought of how different Scrooge McDuck seemed, compared to the duck they had seen years ago. Back then, he had been pure rage, an unstoppable force of nature that even Ma couldn’t compete against. Now, however, he seemed almost… subdued. Anxious, even. He was fiddling with his cane constantly, as if expecting something bad to happen. Seeing their all-powerful uncle so out of his depth was something Donald didn’t know he needed. Of course Scrooge wasn’t used to children. The old coot (sorry, Grandma) never had any children. He wasn’t even married, didn’t seem like he ever loved someone. Only money.

Of-freaking-course he was unsure.

Gruff, Scrooge approached Grandma. “Elvira,” he greeted, and Donald was surprised by the politeness of his tone. While still being his harsh self, he was somehow nice. He could have been rude and, to be honest, Donald expected him to, but he didn’t.

“Scrooge,” Grandma greeted him warmly. Della lit up, and Donald groaned inwardly. Of course Grandma was going to be kind. Scrooge smiled, tight but genuine. “Thank you so much for this. I’m sure the children will be thankful in time.”

Both Scrooge and Donald scoffed, half hiding a laugh. Neither believed a word she said, thinking pretty much the same thing: that’ll be the day . Scrooge looked at Donald and smirked, almost as if they shared a secret. Donald didn’t know how to interpret that.

“I’m sure,” said Scrooge, still wearing that smirk, “that sooner or later they’ll tell me their opinions of the arrangement.”

While Donald was very determined to tell his uncle if he was being a horrible guardian, he was still surprised by how defeated yet proud the old duck seemed. It was as if he had assumed his nephew and niece weren’t going to like him ever, and acted as if there was nothing wrong (even though being hated by your only surviving family --other than Aunt Matilda-- had to be an unpleasant thing to experience), as if he had been himself for so long that any compromise to change that was just a waste of time. Like someone who knew they were ugly yet didn’t care. Was it his wealth? Or just a ridiculously thick skin that gave him that sad confidence?

For some reason, Donald didn’t want to know.

It was then that Scrooge decided to look at both Donald and Della with more attention. “I’m sure ye kids already know this, but it’s been a while since I’ve seen either of you, so ye’ll have to forgive me.” At this, Donald blushed deep red in embarrassment. He was a little kid! And the scary old duck had made Ma angry! But at least Scrooge didn’t seem mad. “As both of you already know, I’m your mother’s older brother, your uncle. Scrooge McDuck.”

That seemed unnecessary, since as Scrooge said, they both already knew who his uncle was, but was still good to get that fresh start. Or something. And so both Donald and Della nodded slowly. The lack of response made Scrooge look highly uncomfortable.

“Ah… yes.” He coughed, and took two of the trunks the twins had filled with what they could pack. Said twins could only look in bewilderment as a very very old man took such heavy luggage as if it was nothing. “Well, you can say your goodbyes to yer grandma, though Ah promise you’ll see her again real soon. ‘S not like I wanna take some children away from their family, after all.”

Donald did just that. He was going to show his uncle he can’t just go and change everything with a visit and an offer of living in his mansion. Della went as well, and they both hugged their grandma tightly.

Elvira patted them on the head, and hugged them back just as fiercely. “You be good to your Uncle Scrooge. He’s really a warm duck beneath that gruff exterior.”

Neither child said anything, and once they released their grandma and made sure they had everything they needed, they left the farm for what they knew wasn’t the last time, but felt oddly like it.

***

The car Scrooge had was a limousine, and the man who was waiting beside it was definitely a butler. Not only was he dressed in what had to be the most formal suit Donald had ever seen, but also he was standing way too straight to be normal.

Compared to Scrooge, with his old coat and dusty top hat, the butler looked like the real lord of the house. And yet there was no doubt who was the master here. Scrooge moved his hand, flexing his fingers as if they were supposed to be around something, and nodded to the butler, who bowed in return.

“Duckworth, these are the children. Donald and Della. Ye know what tae do.” The man nodded, his eyes opening slowly. Donald had once read the words ‘polite dismissiveness’ and couldn’t understand it properly. Now, seeing at the way the butler (Duckworth, his mind corrected itself) was looking at them, the meaning was clear. Why did the butler have to be just as unloving as their uncle? Maybe that was why Scrooge hired him in the first place. “Kids, this is Auguste Duckworth, my butler and most faithful servant. Anything you need, ask him.” Duckworth nodded, merely confirming his master’s words.

“It is, of course, an honor to serve you, young master Donald, young mistress Della.” He bowed, having already decided in his mind that they were worthy of his service or something. The whole thing felt way too solemn. Donald couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable. Judging by the way Della’s beak crumpled slightly, she felt the same way. Still, she was the more polite of the two.

“Nice… to meet you, Mr. Duckworth.” Della whispered, and Donald nodded fiercely, trying to seem eager without having to say a word. Duckworth seemed to take it as enough, for he bowed again and opened the door to the limo for them. It was only then that Donald realized-- Scrooge had already packed the suitcases in the trunk, again taking huge weights like they were nothing. How did he even do that?

“Alright kids, time to go. Ye said yer goodbyes.” Scrooge said as soon as he closed the trunk, leaving Donald and Della to try and get inside the intimidating car, with some help from Duckworth, of course. Donald refused to look at their uncle in the eye.

All he did was look at the window, seeing how grandma’s farm became smaller and smaller, while his dread only grew in size.

***

The car ride was silent.

Della tried at first, just a couple of questions, about life in the mansion, what Scrooge did for a living, things like that. But Donald knew it was useless, since the old duck didn’t reply to any of them, and so conversation quickly died out.

Donald didn’t mind, not really. The longer he can go without speaking, the better. Scrooge hadn’t heard him back then, either, and he wanted it to stay that way. What if Uncle Scrooge just decided ‘well, I don’t want this one’ and sent him back to Grandma’s on his own just because he was a dumb boy who couldn’t speak properly? All he could do was squawk until Ma somehow got enough money to pay for some classes. And still.

He sounded like an idiot.

Della would say he was being dumb, that Uncle Scrooge wouldn’t care, but the fear ran too deep to be stopped by something like that soft-hearted reassurance. Donald didn’t know Scrooge. All he knew was that he had been terrible to Ma and Pa, and they were both great people who could speak and sound normal and not like a senseless bird yelling around. What could someone like Scrooge do to someone like Donald? So yeah, he was scared.

Not only of Scrooge, though. Donald hated talking, period. Even though Ma took him to special talking classes that made him speak better, it still felt like dumb quacking no one could ever hope to understand. He only talked to family, and only if he liked them-- Gladstone being the only exception, as someone so lucky of course had perfect hearing and loved his own voice so much he did most of the talking anyway. Other than that, Donald refused to talk if he could help it.

As a result, he learned sign language, but didn't like it either. It was just another way to feel like he didn't belong, so he only used it at school. If he absolutely needed to communicate something, Della did it for him.

And so he didn't talk. Even if Scrooge looked at him quizzically from time to time, Donald kept his beak shut.

The car ride was silent, but also very, very lonely.

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #lun writes fanfic #scrooge mcduck #donald duck #i cried a bit welp #life and regrets of scrooge mcduck

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the-record-obituaries · 7 years ago

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Sept. 27, 2017: Obituaries

Steven Harris, 60

Mr. Steven "Steve" Travis Harris, age 60 of Millers Creek passed away Wednesday, September 20, 2017.

Funeral services were held Monday at Millers Creek Baptist Church with Rev. Shannon Critcher, Rev. Jim Gore, and Rev. Hadley Triplett officiating. Burial was in Davis Memorial Baptist Church Cemetery. .

Mr. Harris was born November 20, 1956 in Iredell County to Travis Benjamin and Anna Parsons Harris. He was a faithful member of Millers Creek Baptist Church. He retired after 36 years of law enforcement. He was a devoted husband, father, grandfather, brother and son.

Steve was a generous and kind-hearted Christian, who was always willing to lend a helping hand. He loved his family and friends dearly and was proudest of his grandson, Carter. He will be missed greatly by all.

In addition to his mother, he was preceded in death by his wife; Kathy Smith Harris and an infant daughter Jessica Lynn Harris.

He is survived by one daughter; Valerie Lovette and husband Jeremy of Wilkesboro, one son; Timothy Smith of Knoxville, TN, one grandson; Carter Lovette, his father; Travis Harris and wife Judy of Ferguson, step-father; Ronald Gant of North Wilkesboro, two sisters; Jamie Goings and husband Michael of Lincolnton, Kristy Vickers and husband Daniel of Ferguson, four brothers; Randy Harris and wife Brenda of Traphill, Buford Pennell and wife Shannon of Lenoir, Ronnie Gant and wife Dawn of Moravian Falls and Donnie Gant of Moravian Falls.

In lieu of flowers a trust fund for Carter Lovette has been established at the State Employees Credit Union.

Cecil Widener, 47

Mr. Cecil E. Widener, 47, of Wilkesboro, passed away on Friday, September 22, 2017.

Cecil was born on Sunday, August 2, 1970 to James Lee Widener Sr. and Imogene Louise Blizzard in Richmond, Virginia.

Cecil is preceded in death by his parents.

Cecil is survived by his daughter, Kelly Widener of Creston; son, Jeffrey Widener of Charlotte; sisters, Rebecca Widener of Purlear, Jeannette Widener of Taylorsville; brothers, James Widener Jr. and wife, Debbie, of Millers Creek, Steven Widener of Purlear, Jimmy Wayne Widener of Jefferson; and grandchild, Matthew Widener of Creston.

A memorial service was held privately.

In lieu of flowers, memorial donations may be given in care of Jeff Widener at 13129 Atkins Circle Apt. 102 Charlotte, NC 28277.

Adams Funeral Home of Wilkes has the honor of serving the Widener Family.

Thomas Laws, 86

Mr. Thomas Burton Laws, age 86 of Boomer passed away Thursday, September 21, 2017 at his home.

Funeral services were September 23, at Zion Hill Baptist Church with Rev. Robert Webb officiating. Flag presentation by the North Carolina National Guard Honor Guard will be in the church cemetery.

Mr. Laws was born November 6, 1930 in Wilkes County to Thomas Wesley and Rosetta Williams Laws. He was a member of Little Rock Baptist Church. He served in the United States Army during the Korean Conflict. He was a hardworking man, loved his family and animals, his unspoken words were stronger than any words he spoke, he was an intelligent man even though he didn't have much education. He was a great provider for his family and a good role model. He enjoyed reading the Bible, he will be greatly missed by his family and friends.

In addition to his parents, he was preceded in death by his wife; Barbara Ferguson Laws, four sisters; Royster Wolfe, Lois Wiliams, Opal Clarke and Flo Laws and three brothers; Coot Williams, Albert Williams and Lonnie Williams.

He is survived by two daughters; Joan Laws Osborne and husband Harold of Boomer, Sarah Lea Laws of Boomer, one son; Rennie Turley and wife Kattie of Traphill, five grandchildren; Burton Adams, Sarita Johnson and husband Andrew, Zach Turley, Renee Melara and Dexter Osborne and four great grandchildren; Tesia Adams, Radley Johnson, Jessen Melara and Damien Brown.

Flowers will be accepted or memorials may be made to Wake Forest Baptist Care at Home Hospice, 126 Executive Drive, Suite 110, Wilkesboro, NC 28697.

Reba Prevette, 86

Reba Cleary Prevette, 86, passed away on Thursday, September 21, 2017. A Celebration of her life was held on September 24, in the Chapel of Macon Memorial Park Funeral, with the Rev. Mike Fuller officiating. Burial was September 25, Maple Grove Baptist Church Cemetery, 1998 Traphill Road, Hays NC. In lieu of flowers, send memorials to Pine Pointe Hospice, 6261 Peake Road, Macon GA 31210.

Mrs. Prevette was born in North Wilkesboro, NC to the late Garr and Sally Bell Cleary. She was preceded in death by her husband, Henry Robert Prevette, son, Robert "Mark" Prevette, two brothers, and one sister. Reba was retired from Flint Journal and was a member of Midway Baptist Church. She was a devoted and loving wife, mother, grandmother, great grandmother, sister and aunt.

She is survived by her sons, Michael (Tamie) Prevette of Flint, MI, Scott (Kathy) Prevette of Gastonia, NC, daughter-in-law, Kathy Prevette of Macon, six grandchildren, sixteen great grandchildren, brother, Vance D. (Grace) Cleary of Hays, NC, and several nieces and nephews.

Macon Memorial Park Funeral Home has charge of the arrangements.

Joseph Greene, 58

Joseph "Joey" Daniel Greene, age 58, of North Wilkesboro, died Wednesday, September 20, 2017. He was born September 6, 1959 in Wilkes County to Jessie and Martha Trivette Greene. Mr. Greene was of the Baptist Faith. He was preceded in death by his parents.

Surviving are his sister, Sherry Brooks of North Wilkesboro; and his brother, Ben Greene and wife Kat of North Wilkesboro.

Memorial service will be held 4:00 p.m. Thursday, September 28, 2017 at Miller Funeral Chapel with Pastor Mark Hall officiating. In lieu of flowers, memorials may be made to Miller Funeral Service to help with funeral service. Miller Funeral Service is in charge of the arrangements.

Barbara Jean Holloway, age 75, of North Wilkesboro, died Wednesday, September 20, 2017 at her home. She was born November 16, 1941 in Wilkes County to Todd Winford and Lily Candza Lunsford Wyatt. Mrs. Holloway was a member of Northside Baptist Church and president of the Ladies Circle. She loved gospel and country music and treasured her family, friends, church and grandchildren. She was preceded in death by her parents; brother, Leonard Wyatt; and sisters, Hazel Lunsford and Arlee Spears.

Surviving are her husband, James Clyde Holloway; son, Michael Holloway and wife Shelia of North Wilkesboro; daughters, Jackie Harrold and husband Johnny of North Wilkesboro, Melinda Holloway-Fowler and husband Timothy of Purlear, Tonya Wood and husband Tracy of Mooresville; brother, Ernest Wyatt and wife Texas Ann of North Wilkesboro; sister, Ruth Harris of Statesville; six grandchildren; and two great grandchildren.

Funeral service was September 23, 2017 at Miller Funeral Chapel with Brother Jason Whitley officiating. Entombment followed in Mountlawn Memorial Park Mausoleum. Flowers will be accepted or memorials may be made to Northside Baptist Church, 1105 Odell Street, North Wilkesboro, NC 28659. Miller Funeral Service is in charge of the arrangements.

Clyde Johnson, 85

Clyde Everette Johnson, age 85, of Wilkesboro, died Wednesday, September 20, 2017 at Avante at Wilkesboro. He was born July 11, 1932 in Wilkes County to James Hubbard and Bertha Lou Porter Johnson. Mr. Johnson was a US Army Veteran. He was preceded in death by his parents; siblings, Woodrow Johnson, Dora Mae Johnson, Elsie Howell, Howard Johnson, Hobert Johnson, Gene Johnson, Robert Johnson and Martha Wood.

Surviving are his son, Randall Johnson of North Wilkesboro; brothers, David Johnson and wife Mae of McGrady, Jonah Johnson and wife Frances of Hays, Isaac Johnson and wife Annie of Ronda, Claude Johnson and wife Ruby of North Wilkesboro.

Funeral service was September 22, at Miller Funeral Chapel with Rev. Joel Blevins officiating. Burial followed in Oak Ridge Baptist Church Cemetery.

Brenda Greene, 58

Mrs. Brenda Sue Greene, 58, of McGrady, passed away on Tuesday, September 19, 2017.

Brenda was born on Sunday, February 22, 1959 in Ashe County to Beulah Mae Combs.

Brenda is preceded in death by her mother, Beulah Mae Combs and brother, Billy Dean Combs.

Brenda is survived by her husband of 22 years, James John Barlow; son, Thomas Allen Greene of North Wilkesboro; sister, Wilma Blackburn Servert of North Wilkesboro; brothers, Larry Combs of Moravian Falls, John Combs and wife, Benita, of North Wilkesboro, Jerry Combs of North Wilkesboro.

The funeral service was September 22, at Adams Funeral Home of Wilkes Chapel, 2109 Moravian Falls Rd. with Rev. Ronnie Millsaps officiating.

Burial followed in Mountlawn Memorial Park Cemetery in North Wilkesboro.

Swanson Redmon, 68

Swanson Andrew Redmon, age 68, of North Wilkesboro, died Monday, September 18, 2017 at his son's home. He was born January 22, 1949 in Wilkes County to Jerry Andrew and Marie Bailey Redmon. Mr. Redmon was a graduate of Lincoln Heights; thereafter he joined the US Army. He was discharged after injury then returned home to work as a mechanic. Mr. Redmon was a member of New Damascus Baptist Church. He was preceded in death by his parents; his brother, Alvin K. Redmon; and sisters, Cordelia Mosley and Monica Redmon.

Surviving are his children, Melissa Smith and husband Duane of Hamptonville, Jerry Andrew Eller and wife Stephanie, Kathryn "Bittygirl" Eller all of North Wilkesboro; a younger daughter, Andrea of Wilkesboro; siblings, Lavan Redmon and wife Betty of Monroe, Robert Redmon and wife Yolanda of Winston Salem, Lewis Redmon of Albany, Georgia, Karen Durant of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, Henrietta Reynolds of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, Maggie Horne of Charlotte, Jerry "Chris" Redmon of Sacramento, California; six grandchildren; four great grandchildren; numerous nieces and nephews.

Funeral service was held September 23, at New Damascus Baptist Church with Rev. John Bailey and Rev. Keith Knox officiating. Burial with military honors by Veterans of Foreign Wars Honor Guard Post 1142 followed in High View Cemetery. Flowers will be accepted. Miller Funeral Service is in charge of the arrangements A special thanks to Pastor Jamie Smithey of Chile, Spain.

Mary Covington, 91

Mary Morrison Covington, age 91, of Winston Salem, died Monday, September 18, 2017 at Wake Forest Baptist Medical Center. She was born November 6, 1925 in Wilkes County to Charles Richard and Rosa Chrysel Morrison. She was a long time resident of Jefferson and was 13th of 16 children.

Though she reared her children in Florida, she couldn't wait to move back to her beloved North Carolina mountains upon retirement. Mrs. Covington was married to the late Howard E. Covington of Laurel Springs. She enjoyed working with Howard's Christmas tree farm, and delighted in having all her children and grandchildren there for tree-cutting season. She was active as a hospital volunteer and with the Art Clan in Ashe County. She loved art, music and laughing. Her greatest joy, however, was her family. Her cheerful nature brightened any room and she was a friend to all she met and knew when she moved to Winston Salem in the early 2000's.

Surviving are her sons; Michael Kerley and wife Mary of Pine Hall and Garnett Houston Slatton, Jr. and wife Michelle of Nashville; daughter; Kathy Slatton Helms and husband David of Winston-Salem; five grandchildren; G. Houston Slatton, III and wife Laine, Jane Gordon and husband Nick, Campbell Hopkins and husband Tanner, Adam Helms and Sam Helms; three great-grandchildren; G.H. Slatton, IV, Miller Slatton and Carter Jane Gordon; Sister; Reba Morrison of Ashe County and many dear nieces and nephews living in and around Wilkes County and North Carolina.

Graveside service was September 23, at Mtn. Park Cemetery, Wilkes County, NC. Children and hunger were issues close to the hearts of Mary and Howard. For that reason we are asking for donations, in lieu of flowers. Memorials may be made to; Second Harvest Food Bank, 3655 Reed St., Winston-Salem, NC 27107 or Boy Scouts of America - Old Hickory Council, 6600 Silas Creek Parkway, Winston-Salem, NC 27106. Miller Funeral Service is in charge of the arrangements.

Gary Farmer, 63

Mr. Gary Dennis Farmer, age 63 of Wilkesboro passed away Sunday, September 17, 2017 at his home.

Graveside services were September 22, at Mountlawn Memorial Park

Mr. Farmer was born December 14, 1953 in Carroll County, VA to Gray Benjamin and Virginia Ida Frost Farmer. He worked for Tyson Foods as a Supervisor in the Service Center.

In addition to his parents, he was preceded in death by one nephew; Chad Farmer.

He is survived by his wife of the home; Marion Hall Farmer, one daughter; Cindi Blackburn of Wilkesboro, one grandchild; Christian Jones, two sisters; Donna Nichols of North Wilkesboro, Joyce Davis and husband Jimmy of Galax, VA, one brother; Michael Farmer and wife Ellen of North Wilkesboro and brother-in-Law; Robert Allen (Tommy) Hall of Wilkesboro, three nieces; Sandy Davis, Jennifer Holdaway and Miranda Nichols Pruitt and two nephews; Bennie Davis and Michael McMillian.

In lieu of flowers the American Heart Association, 4217 Park Place Court, Glen Allen, VA 23060-997.

Andrew Davis, 37

Mr. Andrew "Scott" Davis, age 37 of North Wilkesboro, son of Andrew and Jean Stone Davis, passed away Friday, September 16, 2017.

Memorial services were Tuesday at Fairplains Baptist Church with Pastor David Dyer and Pastor Larry Shreve officiating.

Scott was born November 9, 1979 in Iredell to Andrew Kuhl and Belinda "Jean" Stone Davis.

He is survived by his parents of the home, a sister; Amanda Davis Gregory and husband; Barrette of Millers Creek, and two nephews; Noah Gregory, Carter Gregory and one niece; Jenilee Gregory.

Flowers will be accepted or memorials may be made to Brunswick Christian Recovery Center, PO Box 3091 Shallotte, NC 28470 or Ebenezer Christian Children's Home PO Box 2777, North Wilkesboro, NC 28659.

Sidney Miner, Jr.

Sidney Armstrong Miner, Jr. (AKA Sid, Papa, Big Papa, Papa Uber) left this earth on Friday September 15th, 2017 at Wilkesboro Regional Medical Center, after enjoying two of his favorite things - lunch and the company of his beautiful wife, Pam. This St. Pete, FL born self-proclaimed "Mountain Man" made an impact on everyone he met. He grew up in St. Pete with his brother, Bill, and parents, Sidney and Mary Katherine Miner, and graduated from Northeast High School. While attending the University of South Florida, he joined the Marine Corps Reserve to serve his country. He graduated from USF with a degree in political science and followed in his father's and grandfather's footsteps by joining the family insurance agency. He met the love of his life on New Year's Eve 1972. Eight short months later they were married and proceeded to have three wonderful children, Katherine, Jennifer, and Sidney. As life progressed he became involved in the Exchange Club, Boy Scouts, Holy Family Catholic Church, and the Knights of Columbus. He continued to establish strong connections in North Wilkesboro, NC after realizing the dream of a log cabin in the mountains. He never met a stranger and his generosity, sense of humor, and loyalty has been an example for all.

He is survived by his wife, Pam; his brother and sister-in-law, Bill and Kathi Miner; his children, Katy and Jim Witkowski, Jen and Justin Knippen, and Sid and Bethany Miner; his grandchildren, Sid, John, Bobbi and Lucas Miner; Katherine, Jack and Emma Knippen; beloved dog, Blue; and many others whose lives he touched simply by being himself. In lieu of flowers, please consider making a donation to the Greater Tampa Bay Area Council, Boy Scouts of America.

Funeral service will be held in St. Petersburg, Florida. Miller Funeral Service is in charge of the arrangements.

Beverly Moxley, 50

Mrs. Beverly Gail Moxley, 50, of Wilkesboro, passed away on Thursday September 14, 2017.

Beverly was born on Sunday, March 12, 1967 to George Harris and Josephine Wellington in Wilkes County.

Beverly is preceded in death her husband, Bobby Joe Moxley and father George Harris.

Beverly is survived by: her mother, Josephine Wellington of Wilkesboro; son, Celon Wellington of Wilkesboro; sisters, Jessie Wellington, of Moravian Falls, Wanda Navarro and husband Richard, of Wilkesboro, Kimberly Brown, and husband, Eldridge of Winston Salem; brothers, Larry Wellington and John Wellington both of Wilkesboro and grandson, Austin Curry.

A graveside service washeld September 20, in Mountain Park Cemetery with Rev. Arvil Perry officiating.

Adams Funeral Home of Wilkes has the honor of serving the Moxley Family.

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