#di you know there was supposed to be a epic mickey 3 and an epic donald (duck) and that minnie/ortensia were gonna be in the third

[mickmundy]

hiiii its that time again my friends (i remembered i have free will and can infodump about my fic series anytime i want) and with malus almost over and my favorite chapter published, i kind of want to talk about it...

i got/get a lot of wonderful comments (because my readers brains are Massive and Epic) about how medic and sniper frequently find romance in the mundane, which is something that i think both of them would savor/cherish, sepecially since their lives are definitely... not so mundane! but i specifically want to talk about Being Perceived and the Giving of the Names...

so let's jump in! Big Post so under a cut it goes! and you can read my fic series here, though this post will have emphasis on this chapter specifically. :-)

“Aheh, well, I know I should know all of your names, but I’ll be the first to confess that I do not. Isn’t that funny?” He giggled, narrowing his eyes as he flipped his forelock into place on his forehead. “I suppose I could have found out, but I never cared to. It’s never really been important to me.” He shrugged, placing his palms flat on his own thighs and bracing himself. “It’s important to me now, though. Yours, anyway.” He smiled, clearly eager. “If you want me to know it, of course. And I’ll tell you mine!” Medic offered, lacing his fingers together and resting them over his own belly pleasantly. 

Obviously my fics are more of a like. "in depth"(?) take on medic and sniper's characters but it's also important to me that i don't lose the like. Funny Silliness of the canon material in the tf2niverse... because i really don't think the franchise would be Any Good without its Silliness + offbeat humor! medic's character especially imo. so i think the idea of medic literally not caring enough to know anyone else's names is very On Brand for him since it's like "hoo! oh well! they are just friendly experiments!" he knows heavy's because heavy introduced himself to medic with it/they're best friends but other than that, he doesn't know anyone's and doesn't care to. i can see medic just skipping over "all that nonsense" on all of their charts and jumping straight into the Clinical Notes because that's what's most fun for him! he's nice to his teammates and considers them his friends, but not people he's close to. so in that vein when medic tells sniper "i'd like to know your name" it's because medic is telling sniper (in his own way... hoo hoo!) that he wants to know him as more than just an experiment. that at this point he's no longer just some uberheart transplant to him, but a friend. someone he cherishes and enjoys... so that's a pretty big deal for someone like medic, even if people's first reaction would be like "wtf how can he not know their/our names!!" but in medic's mind it makes perfect sense that he doesn't! because it's funny! and also he doesn't care <3 much love! SKDFKSFD

“Hello… Ludwig,” Sniper smiled, his voice faltering a bit on the tail-end of saying the other mercenary’s name. Pretty name for a pretty thing like him . “My name’s…” Wait. What should he say? Mick? Michael? Hell, nobody called him Michael. Then again, nobody’d called him Mick since his parents died. “… Michael. Well, most people used to call me Mick,” he cleared his throat, “Mundy.” He finished, watching Ludwig’s expression soften.

and so then we get into the act of Introducing Yourself... the power of a Chosen Name.... the Romance of being known as Who You Are to someone you care about... and names can be something that are so sacred... whether its your birth name or a name you chose for yourself, its a name you Choose to go by, it's who you are! sniper has just gone by his alias for so long that he'd probably just habitually give it out regardless, and that's fine enough because he's a professional and it works. but he also sees this as a big deal and so he wants to give medic a piece of himself that most of the rest of the team (demo knows sniper's name but calls him mickey but that's it) isn't privy to. he's not sure what he wants medic to call him because all of those names are so Different. they represent versions of himself from different times in his life... and he wants what medic calls him to be perfect. medic watches as sniper Clearly starts overthinking it and just kind of gives up and tells him "well most people just calls me this,". he'll call me mick like anyone and everyone else-

“I care little for what others do. What would you like me to call you?” Medic asked. 

and of course in Typical Medic Fashion he doesn't care what most people do, he wants to do something that's unique! medic's relationship to sniper doesn't involve anyone else's perception of either of them, so why should he care what others call him? What does HE want to be called?

“Michel it is. It’s nice to meet you, Michel.” Medic smiled, his cheeks pushing into his eyes in a genuine smile. Sniper’s heart could have stopped in his chest as his plain name, one that he never particularly cared about one way or another, was reborn in the doctor’s voice. Michel, Michel, Michel. It sounded so different, like it was a whole new name. A name he loved, if it meant hearing Medic say it. 

naturally, medic picks it perfectly. something unique to him something that reminds sniper of medic because nobody ever calls him michael... until medic. and when you choose to add significance to Little Things like this... it can't help but be romantic.. sniper obviously loves it when medic calls on him no matter what, but michel is a name that not only sniper gave medic [permission to call him], but that medic gave sniper [he doesn't want it to just be Whatever Anyone Calls him, he wants it to have Meaning to both of them]. michel is the sniper that medic has come to know and fall in love with.

“Michel… It suits you. Invisible, humble protector…” he trailed off, his eyes narrowing playfully as his voice lowered a bit in pitch. “Enemy of the devil,” he crooned, lilting his voice as though to sound mock-scary, though his smile was still one of playful glee. 

and of course medic flirts about it because that's who he is and he does think it suits sniper: someone who does their job and doesn't need praise or fanfare for it, someone whose sharp gaze sees all... i think it appeals to sniper's obsession with professionalism in that sense. i Obviously don't think either of them are christian (LOL). but i think medic is flirtatiously calling sniper a guardian angel (and just isn't being So Literal about it) and that's what you should glean from it.

“Dunno about that. Like you just fine,” he’d said before he could stop himself, watching as Ludwig’s eyes got wide for a moment as a large, toothy smile spread over his mouth, nearly ear to ear. Sniper felt the back of his neck get hot under such an intense gaze. His teeth were bared with - for lack of a better descriptor (or perhaps simply the most fitting one) - devilish glee, but his eyes were intense, impish and playful.

so medic giveth a nickname and so sniper does too... 😏 medic is devilish: playful, tempting, and so so so persuasive! plus given medic's ability to literally outsmart the devil, it's not said in an insulting way. sniper loves medic's devilishness and has even come to adore him when he's being Completely Bonkers SillyMorbid! and medic of course sees that sniper means it as a compliment. he knows sniper, despite being professional, can appreciate a good kill, some fun morbidity, and wants to see more of that side of sniper. calling him a devil only makes it more obvious that medic is having the exact effect on sniper that he wants! hoo! sniper swears that he's no good at flirting, but he seems to know how to wind medic up pretty effortlessly!

Ludwig’s large chest puffed out slowly in a smooth, silent inhale, the bulk of his body taking on an air about it that the bushman’s sharp eyes were drawn to. Chest, stomach, hips, thighs… hips, stomach, chest, eyes… And, effortlessly, he was consumed by Medic’s gaze again, as though it had been politely waiting to ensnare him.

good job mick you went and turned him on! well that's just fine with dovey! medic isn't shy about showing sniper how he affects him, but that doesn't always have to involve being Sexually Abrasive. he makes a show of letting his breath get taken away so that sniper can physically see that it was sniper who took it away. not everything has to be under Cloak and Shadow; medic has the confidence that sniper doesn't to say look! you're turning me on! i like how you look at me and talk to me! and he lets sniper look at him like he is, watches sniper study him and silently tell him "it's okay to look. i want you to look. this is for you." something that someone who is really sexually/emotionally repressed would appreciate (permission to Gander free of judgement). a huge element of how i ship medic and sniper is that they're BOTH figuring stuff out about each other but also themselves, and in their own Very Different ways. they're (doing their best to) afford one another patience to explore what they're learning and how it affects them. i think romance is defined by the people in the relationship and they're figuring out what that means to them!

GOD IDK IF ANYONE IS GOING TO EVEN READ THIS BUT IF YOU DID THEN THANK YOU I LVOE YOU!!!! i just had to get it out of my system lskdmfkdm... it is a Curse when i am MegaFixated on talking about my own creation.,., sighs.., 😔

[alebrijediscordico]

i. need. to . stop... reblogging shit or im Not gonna sleep good tonight

WHY IS 3AM

[the-community-mascara]

Shit Theatre Kids Say!

Hello, here are some of the random shit I've seen/heard/said/done at rehearsal or backstage during shows. This is by no means all of them. Just some of them, about my first year of doing theatre's worth, which was two years ago.

~"You are predictably dickish"

~"Wait I thought sausage was from cows!!"

~"Singing? In a MUSICAL? Never"

~"Just for your information I have a very small penis"

~ A girl to our choreographer-"Where is your black shirt, sister?"

Our male and very gay choreographer-"Laying on my bed right next to your boyfriend"

~"Ow I just hit myself in the head with a noose!"

~"Gets on stage face totally brown but body looking whiter than Uncle Sam on a cracker"

"What?" *hysterical laughter*

"That's my thing now, like I am whiter than Uncle Sam on a cracker"

~(To the tune of What I've been looking for from high school musical) "This feeling's like no other. I really want sleep! I've never had somewhere I really want to be, LIKE MY BED!"

~"Who's Betsy Ross's husband?"

"Jesus"

~"if you're fat, what am i? A beluga whale?"

~"I can't even! I can only odd!"

"What the fuck"

~"It's a beautiful day you guys!"

"It's a beautiful day for a murder"

"True"

~"You're a chill dick?"

~"My favorite human is probably Mickey Mouse"

~"...Beating her husband?!"

"I thought she was a lesbian!"

~"I need some MILK"

~"You have all that business to mind and you're still in mine?!"

~ *at Larosa's for a cast party* *one guy puts a very tiny dinosaur in the parmesan cheese shaker*

~ "wow you guys its brighter than all of our futures in here!" (We had just gotten into school on a Saturday and every light was off)

~"Unlock the door before I use my epic Vagina muscles" (We were locked out of the dressing rooms on a Saturday show)

~ "I'm so hungry can (our director) get here soon?! It's half an hour past when we were supposed to be here! I'm so hungry - you know what, fuck it. I'm eating this dandelion." *she then eats the dandelion and not five minutes later our director pulls up* "THERE IS A GOD"

~ "I wanna fuck the moon"

~ "Keegan you are literally an abortion fail. Shut the fuck up."

~"Almost all the guys here are adorable, but like, no hetero"

~"Why did you get me started on babies? I fucking hate babies"

~"That curtain just wiped me clean bro! It went straight up my backside!"

~"Old people blood is different it's dusty"

~"That's not blood! It's a thong!"

~"Eggrolls"

~ one of our warmups is that one episode of Spongebob (First you do this... Spin around... STOP!) and the first show our senior who leads us in starts it and another senior just "I FUCKING HATE SPONGEBOB"

"GET OUT LYDIA NO ONE LOVES YOU" was everyone's response.

~ our cast is going through warmups and our last one is putting our hands in "what team? Wildcats!" And well this happened

"WHAT TEAM???"

"WILDCA-"

"guys the audience can hear you!!!"

*very hushed voices* "what team?"

"wildcats!"

~(one of the dresses in the dressing rooms looks like it belongs in the 17/1800's probs cuz it does but one girl put it one bc she didn't have one) *spins around* "Betsy Ross who?"

~ I had to get chased through multiple scenes and everytime I got off stage, heart racing, I'd lean over to the nearest person and whisper- "I do more running on this stage than I ever do in gym class"

~ one time when I was running off stage I ran straight into this one kid who was technically in eighth grade but still part of our cast bc we needed guys.

~ the guy who chased me always fucked around with different runs

~ "my blood is basically Wendy's"

~ between shows on Saturday me and a few friends went to Wendy's... Then a few more people showed up... Then it was an impromptu cast party. No one said a name for our orders so the lady just put "Drama"

~ literally everybody but our Larkin running lines for her songs. And Larkin wanted to murder them all.

~ "I'm sorry you guys, but the air con broke in the backstage hallway and the auditorium. So we have box fans. If you guys wanna risk it, go get the haunted fan from the band room."

~ while at Wendy's the ice machine started randomly pouring ice and we all just looked at each other. "Sorry guys, the ghost followed us." Was uttered to the workers

~ "literally the only reason I'm still alive is because I really wanna do a show about lesbians in the 1930's but I cant do it next year if I'm dead."

~ "what's up there anyway?" (Asked about the loft where students are forbidden to go)

"Oh that's the suicide ladder."

"Why??"

"Our director fell off of it a few years back and nearly died. We aren't allowed up there."

~ "I hate to say it you guys but we have to use the pillows from the sex couch"

"why do you guys call it the sex couch?"

"Long story short, it glows under a blacklight and that means either blood or semen and let's face it, this is high school."

- before everyone needs to start getting ready we have a lip sync battle through the sound system.

~ "you guys I just realized that our A.P. Gov. Final and Opening night are the same day. I'm gonna die."

~ "CAN I KEEP THE GOBLET OF FAILURE?!" (In reference to a goblet our lead threw on opening night that then shattered)

"If you want to"

~ the entire cast had to fall down during one of the dances at the end. This lead to many "paint me like one of your French girls" Scenes. So many, that the line got banned.

~ an in depth conversation during intermission about three porn videos one of the leads has seen. 1) instead of moaning normal things, the girl moans "oh my goodness" Super fast, he didn't finish it he was laughing so hard. 2) it's in an art studio, and the guy is tickling the girl with a paint brush, then shoves it in - not her vagina, but her urethra. He didn't finish that one. 3) the guy spit, directly into the girls asshole. He finished that one.

We were laughing so hard, that we nearly missed it when the overture started.

~ "it is so hot my sweat is sweating"

~ "are you dab fanning me?"

~ "WHO MOVED MY SHARP THINGY?"

~ "get me my letter!"

~ "bro"

~ *everyone mouthing the lines the people on stage are saying*

~ *over exaggerated lip syncing to songs happening in front of a curtain as we all wait behind the curtain*

~ "where is the person helping me strip him?"

~ "Kroger is just nicer people's Walmart"

~ *everyone getting ready and quoting vines*

~ "free sh- fre sha va cado"

"What?"

~ "who's stepping on my shoes?! Who- oh it's me."

~ "I have to get home! I have a wife and kids!"

"You're 12"

"SIMS"

~ *the boys dressing room prank calls random restaurants*

~ *I have my legs up while I'm sitting on the dressing room table* *my friend slaps my bare leg* "that's a nice slab of meat ma'am"

~ " Can someone explain why it's called Buffalo Wild Wings if Buffalo don't have wings?"

"It's Buffalo sauce on chicken wings, Cayenne."

"Oh!"

~ "OOH draw me as a furry!" (Said by a twelve year old)

~ "Maddi... Draw me a chicken!"

~ (there is a stool in the girls dressing room that is so falling apart the seat is all duct tape and it comes off, it looks horrid.) "Hey guys look! It's the butt stool"

~ "hey gals the fun has arrived!"

(Everyone at the same time): "the fun has been here"/"Where is she?"

~ "someone just dropped their foot! I mean their shoe!"

~ "you only have 3/4 leg to shave and 1 and 1/4 leg to not shave"

Feel free to add on with the weirdest shit you guys have heard theatre kids say!

[ginyang98]

Duck Avatar AU Chapter 1

Ok, now I accept I am crazy, but I really loved this AU.

Also, really thanks to @adamarinayu​ forhelping me with the translation <3

Chapter 1: Burning the ship.

When the triplets hatched, there was no one caring for them. There was only a single lamp above them to keep them warm, protecting them from the frozen wind of the South Pole awaiting them outside. Naked with yellow feathers and with no one there to care for them, one by one, with only a few seconds between, they broke through their shells and left that safe place to enter this world alone. But even though an act as beautiful as birth, especially that of triplets, becomes sad with no one there to hold them and keep them warm, there is still something even sadder; Death. In the moment the ducklings were breaking through their shells, elsewhere with the strike of lightning and upon the glass-strewn ground, before his best friend’s very eyes an important public figure died. But what was special about this person? The fallen one was the avatar, the only person capable of mastering all four elements. And what does this have to do with the birth of these ducklings? One of those newborns was his successor.

A duck entered the room where three little ducklings were sleeping together in the large cradle they shared. One of them was wide awake, moving around in the crib despite being wrapped in a blue blanket. The elder watched him and only smiled, and he took the duckling in his arms. He began to sing a lullaby, trying to soften his hoarse, harsh and sharp voice so that he could lull the little one to sleep. When the child started to yawn, the duck lowered him back into the cradle and wrapped him back in his blankets. “I wish your mother was here. SheShe would be so proud of you ... You are growing very strong,” the older one smiled, and he gave each of them a kiss on the head: first the one who was wrapped in a red blanket, who yawned softly as he shifted; then the one with the blue blanket, whose eyes were half-closed as he fell back into Morpheus's arms; and lastly the one with the green blanket, who smiled a little, revealing small dimples in his cheeks. “... Why do they look so much like you…?” As he walked away, tears gathered in his eyes. He was not their father, he was just a relative who would take care of them from then on. Uncle Donald ...

Donald wrote letters every day. He repeated them but he always ended up burning them all in scorching fire. What did they say? Nobody knew, but it was for someone important. For whom?… The only thing anyone really knew was that he began writing them after his nephews hatched. The nephews were normal children, or at least they looked like they were. The three of them were special, but it first showed up in the eldest triplet. Do you know the legends of this world? There are people who are able to control a natural element: water, earth, fire, air ... The eldest brother had manifested the ability to control water at six years old. For this reason, he helped his uncle with some domestic tasks that included the use of the skill. However he hadn’t really trained his ability, at least not until he became a part of the "Boy Scoutz: the Junior Woodchuck" group. Louie also developed this ability a year later, but more vaguely than his eldest brother. In truth, every time Dewey or Huey started to bother him when they were out of the house, small cracks formed in the ice at his feet, but they went unnoticed. At least they did until one day, when Dewey was being bothersome, Louie threw a blow and accidentally made the ground crack, causing them both to fall into the water below. And Dewey ... Well, we'll talk about Dewey a little bit later.

The letters never stopped- he wrote them and always burned them- but they did decrease in number. At first there were five letters, but in the end there was only one with five names in it. Burned in the fire, his words became smoke.

“Listen to me all! A story for dinner time!” shouted an old dog with large ears, dressed in the typical fashion of the Water Nation, though his clothes looked very worn. His eyes looked crazy, but the inhabitants sat around the fire to hear him speak, as if he were the wisest of them all. “Hey, Huey, do you really think those clothes keep him warm?” asked one of the children around the fire, chuckling. This child was a duck, and he was sitting in between two others who, curiously, looked very similar to him. The only thing that differentiated them were the feathers on their forehead. “Yes, they do, Dewey,” answered Huey, a boy with a small winter red cap, contrasting completely with the blue suits worn by the populace. “We, the Junior Woodchucks, made those thermal clothes so that old Jenkins doesn’t die of the cold.” With a call from the eldest of the family of ducks, who wore a sailor’s hat, the two little ducks fell silent. Thus, the story began: stories of the different "avatars" of the world: about the avatar Felix and how he accidentally caused a small fight between spirits and mortals, about the avatar Julius who was one of the most violent and died in the spirit world, of the avatar Walt who was the first of them all, of the avatar Pattience who was the first woman and who gave the official order to learn the elements, about more avatars, about the spirits, about the white lotus and how these together with the great spirit master Yen Sid maintain the balance of the world... But the one who he spoke of the most was the avatar Mickey and his team, to the disgrace of Donald.

The old man in town knew who Donald Duck was. Or rather, what he had been. He told stories of epic battles, about the great waterbender he was, about the most powerful avatar up to that point, about a warrior from the Earth Kingdom, about a reporter from that same nation, about the princess of the Fire Nation, and the last female airbender in the world. He told of the great team they were, the "avatar team" as they called them: Mickey Mouse, a benevolent and childish young man who kept at bay a growing war until his imminent death at the hands of someone who is currently in prison. Donald did not like to hear this, but he always ended up listening to the old man for his nephews: Huey, Dewey and Louie. Especially for the middle one, who seemed to be even more excited than the other two about the stories each day. Donald never denied having done such feats, but he never confirmed it either. What has happened to this poor man to only be present for his nephews and not for himself? ...

“Imagine that the avatar is in our tribe! Just imagine that!” Dewey said to his brothers excitedly, raising his arms and pretending to do the motions that the old storyteller made when relating historical events. “It would be great to meet the avatar. I mean, that guy is a celebrity since his birth…” the third child who, until now, had not spoken, smiled, and amusedly tried to imitate the one with the wild hair, pulling from the ground a small, inconstant flow of water that floated around him, which due to little experience fell back to the ground without warning. He let out a small, disappointed sigh. “Well yes, Louie. It would be pretty cool... but I do not think he'll show up again. According to the old Jenkins and the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook, it's been seven years without an avatar and he was supposed to be born among the air nomads but…” the eldest of the triplets gave a grin, remembering the old man's words saying that the cycle was broken since there were no more air nomads in the world. Or well, there was one but this guy didn't have kids. “Oh, come on. All this is a matter of magic and those things, right?” said the youngest of the three, draping his arms around his brothers’ shoulders from behind, looking from one to the other. “I mean, you have that weird magic too.” “It's called Waterbending and it's not about magic. It has to do with energy and our brains,” Huey scolded Louie, annoyed. “And you’re also a waterbender, I'm not the only one!” “Magic, energy, whatever.” Louie raised both eyebrows, smirking in amusement. “The avatar has to exist! ... yet…” Dewey said, looking thoughtful, before he finally smiled towards his two brothers confidently. “I know it. I mean, he could not disappear just like that.” “Oh, yeah? And how do you know, dear Dewford?” Huey raised both eyebrows as a challenge, jokingly. “... Maybe intuition? I don't know.” “Maybe you are the avatar!” Louie said mockingly, giving a little push to the elder, who did not hesitate to push back. “Boys, stop talking, please,” their uncle said, turning to look at them with irritation. “Yes uncle Donald…” The triplets chorused.

Years passed. Donald raised them, burned letters, trained in secret to not forget anything he knew... and in the meantime, the boys played, studied and were protected by the eldest of the house. Typical in a small and broken but good family... One day, however, that protection turned into overprotection, as just a month after Louie’s ability made itself known Dewey’s own revealed itself. But it was not water. It was air.

That day Donald wrote letters again, two to be exact. One was addressed to four people, and the fifth was going to only one person. Who…? But these... He did not burn them.

Donald's nervousness increased, and he had the three locked in the house most of the time. Huey was no longer allowed to be part of the woodchucks, Louie couldn't get along with the other children in the town, and Donald never took his eyes off of Dewey. He had even forbidden the use of airbending in public. Although in the beginning this bothered the children a lot, they managed to survive their paranoid uncle for three long years. Sometimes they even ran away from home to have fun outside, and although he always found them, they remembered those moments of freedom with joy. They really did not understand the current danger ... At least Dewey, who was the most daring of the three, did not understand. The moment came when their uncle locked them up when he had to leave. This was the moment Huey realized why his uncle was so paranoid.

“Water, earth, fire, air. When we were little the old man of the town told stories about a person, born every so often between each nation, who could control the four elements they called "the avatar". He told how the last avatar maintained peace throughout his time until he died due to the betrayal of one of his relatives and that, due to this, a war was about to begin. I also heard the stories, told by that crazy man, of how the avatar had had a group of companions in which my uncle Donald was listed as a great waterbender and sailor. I personally did not believe these stories and I was skeptical. Seeing is believing. We all knew that the next avatar was among the air nomads, but according to the old man there was only one, who didn’t practice the air nomad habits, and, according to him, had no children... Strangely, my younger brother, Dewey, was an airbender. Uncle Donald, after my brother showed his power, did not let us out of home. Would he be the Avatar…? No, I really do not believe, it's just coincidence ... It has to be coincidence.”

The situation of confinement worsened with the passage of time, to such an extent that Donald no longer allowed them to even help him clean up at home, as if he thought that they would escape or something. Unconsciously, this caused fights among the children: Louie blamed Dewey for the situation, Huey was not a great mediator and only took care to make sure they did not get hurt from the blows, Dewey blames the other two for doing nothing against Uncle Donald, Huey yelled a lot at both of them (especially to Dewey because the child is too reckless)... it was just a disaster. One day, when one of these fights occurred, the brothers were in the kitchen. Louie boredly watched as Dewey tried to create a swirl of air in his hands, another good excuse to get into trouble. “Leave that, you'll never make it,” Louie said mockingly, leaning his elbows on the kitchen counter and his head on the palms of his hands. “Do you want to try?” Dewey glared at Louie, crossing his arms. “... No thanks. I'm not an air person, you know…” He turned to a small glass of water, trying to move the water without success. “... Meh, one day I'll get it…” “You know you have to practice, right?” Huey asked, and with a single motion he lifted the water from the glass and put it back into it. “Stop doing that, kids!” Donald's scream was heard from the top floor. “I do not want you to get hurt or something!” Louie leaned on the bar, face down, in frustration. Dewey grimaced. Huey just sighed in resignation... “This is impossible…” said the middle brother. “You said it,” Louie’s voice, muffled by the large jacket he wore, grumbled out an agreement. “We'll find something to have fun. We always do…” said the eldest, trying to encourage the other two. And so, Dewey just started hitting the bar like it was a drum. What? He was bored. It did not cause Louie to flinch, nor did he lift his head from its place on the counter. Huey, on the other hand, did react, and he raised an eyebrow questioningly at his brother. “Excuse me, but what are you doing?” “Rhythm…?” Dewey answered, and he continued to beat lightly on the counter without noticing that each tap left a small black spot on the wooden bar. “I'm bored.” “Eh... Dewey…” Huey, noticing those little marks, tried to make his brother stop. A second blow on one of them generated smoke, but the kid with ruffled hair did not flinch even a little. Huey kept trying to make Dewey stop, but as if believing it was a challenge the younger kept on even stronger. Annoyed, Louie looked up to try to make them shut up for once, but felt a strong blow to his right arm, on the sleeve of the jacket, and stared at it in shock. After a few seconds watching a small incandescent light on the garment he finally screamed. After him was Huey, and in the end Dewey shouted.

Donald heard the cries of the triplets and, surprised, he ran awkwardly down the stairs. What was found was something unpleasant; his kitchen was on fire. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!” With nothing more to think about, he grabbed them one by one and took them out of the house while the flames swept across each and every piece of furniture, through every room. And in the distance, the family watched the flames destroy their home. “... Now… eh… Pay me, Dewey…” Louie, freezing without his large jacket, just stretched his arm to Dewey, waiting for something. Dewey, without even looking at his brother, just took out of his pocket a pack of dry meat and a few coins and gave them to Louie. “I can’t believe you were right…” Dewey just whispered, with shock written in his face.

“I didn’t wanted to believe, but THAT day arrived. The day that Dewey accidentally burned our home down with his hands, since he actually controlled the air. My uncle Donald went into such a great panic that he took us out of town a few hours after that, in a boat that he says he bought. I could see the terror in his eyes and I did not know why, but I was also very afraid. The avatar was born again, and it was my brother... What could be worse than this?”

First chapter. 

OKEEEEY NOW THIS IS IT!!! I wish you like it... eh. I’m going to feel free to tagg a few people...

@donaldtheduckdad @squorkal @colutm @miilkyprism @tricia-morvill@heythatsdeep @tiaradrawsnotthatgreat @cartoonfan7 I wish you like this guys! 

Again, thanks @adamarinayu for helping me at the translation!!! <3

[shewhowantsmouseears]

The Son Of Scheherazade, 3

Notes: As always, big thanks to my fantastic editors, Drucilla and BlueShifted!

I promise I won't handwave everything with "its just magic", as tempting and easy as that would be. But first and foremost, this is Mickey's tale, so his character development stays in the spotlight! ... Until he has to share it with a lovely lady.

Summary: As the epic journey begins, Mickey begins to realize he wasn't as prepared as his fantasies told him. Meanwhile, Pete must pay a price for his failure.

It wasn't long before the entire kingdom learned that their benevolent rulers had vanished, and that their valiant prince would take on an epic quest to save them. Many offered their prayers to the gods for the family's safe return, yet some couldn't help but think how devastated the poor boy must be. Not only were his parents gone, but he would have to leave his home for the first time in his life. Surely, they imagined, he was holed up in his new room in tears.

“OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH OH MY GOOOSH!”

Simply put, Mickey wasn't in the mood for crying. He had arrived where Goofy's ship was docked, if one could say it had – outside of the castle, the crew had tied the anchor around one of the towers and there it floated, its sails flapping in the wind. It was as big as the palace itself, its shadow reaching out over the marketplace and causing many customers to stop, struggle to understand what they were seeing, and then faint. The figurehead was far larger than what most ships had – a faceless woman had her fingers locked in prayer, and her flowing hair lined the sides of the ship, each strand of wooden hair a different color. Each sail appeared to have been painted by the various crew members – the largest was a skull and crossbones with buck teeth, no doubt to resemble the captain.

“It's real!” Mickey was having a mild heart attack of sheer joy. “It's really real! The flying ship! The ship that defies the world! Sinbad the Sailor's ship!”

“Goofy the Pirate,” Goofy corrected him, and he had a feeling he'd have to do that several times while Mickey was with him. He didn't mind.

“How do you board it, if it can't come any closer to the ground?” Mickey asks, his little body trembling with excitement.

José lightly tugged on the anchor's rope with his umbrella. “All you have to do is climb and-” Mickey jumped onto the rope and frantically began to climb upwards. “...Excitable fellow, huh?”

“I like him!” Panchito declared, despite knowing Mickey for less than an hour. The rest of the crew began to climb up the rope with Goofy going last, untying the line. He whistled a merry tune as he returned to the ship, not entirely surprised to see Mickey running back and forth like a maniac.

“Oh my gosh, this is where you battled the dreaded ice yetis of the tundra!” Mickey declared as he found an area of the ship with frozen cracks forever left in the wood.

“Sure is,” Goofy said, heading for the wheel.

“And this is where you climbed to escape the man-eating praying mantis from the volcano islands!” Mickey climbed a foot up the mast, wanting to feel the scratches the bugs had left behind.

“Is this going to be an all-day thing?” Horace had to ask, and Clarabelle nudged him with her elbow.

“And this is where you declared yourself the supreme sailor of all the high seas and higher skies!” Mickey made this similar declaration now standing atop the steering wheel, and Goofy had to calmly pick him up and put him aside. It gave Mickey enough time to breathe and focus on the situation at hand. “...So you have no idea why my Ma said you're a sailor instead of a pirate?”

“I can't say I know her exact reasons,” Goofy offered as the group began to split up, doing their various assigned tasks. “But maybe she didn't want her boy idolizing a pirate. Might set a bad image.” The ship wasn't moving, and Goofy made no motion to steer the wheel. Instead he simply leaned against it, waiting.

Mickey supposed Goofy had a point – but then his eyes widened. “But that means...you're all a bunch of thieves! You steal from people, that makes you bad guys! … Doesn't it?”

Goofy waved his hand side-to-side. “'Thieves' is a dirty word.”

“Accurate, but dirty,” Horace quipped from a nearby room.

“We never steal from folks who can't afford it,” Goofy continued. “We only go after the really rich, those who ain't really affected by the end of the day. And it's not like we steal from every single place we go to. Otherwise, we wouldn't be able to travel, we'd be hunted down no matter where we went!”

“I... Well... hm.” Mickey scratched his head. This was a new kind of ethics, but then again, the butcher never went out of business any time Pluto snatched an extra sausage or two. But surely his mother wouldn't want Mickey to meet a bunch of bad guys – yet she'd clearly been hiding some pretty big secrets from him. All of this back and forth was making his head hurt. Right now he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the real story of how a thieving pirate met his heroic mother, if any of those descriptions were accurate. “I'm really confused.”

“If it helps, I'm confused most of the time!” Goofy said with such a big smile that it was hard not to be comforted. “No one starts out understanding everything. But whatever your mama was planning, she wanted you to be safe and sound no matter what. That's why she had me get that flying carpet.”

Mickey looked back up at his new friend with raised eyebrows. “How does that work, anyway? How can a carpet fly?”

“The long answer is that a long time ago during one of my millions of adventures, I met a magical weaver and saved his son from execution at the hands of a tyrannical emperor. Since then, he's owed me a favor. He puts part of his soul into everything he weaves, which gives the carpet the ability to fly. There was supposed to be a proper ceremony for it and everything so it would obey you, but since that got skipped, I think it just obeys itself.”

All right, now Mickey was really really confused. “What was the short answer?”

“It's magic.”

“Oh.” Hours ago Mickey was convinced magic didn't exist, and now apparently there was a whole reality where magic was just given an obvious shrug, like pointing out that wheels rolled because they were round. He was about to sit down and try to understand what a magic carpet ceremony even was, when the word “wheel” stuck in his head, as in the one Goofy wasn't moving. He looked at it, then to Goofy, back to the wheel, then back to Goofy. “...Well?”

“Well what?”

“When are you going to start sailing?”

“Can't sail without a map.”

“Yeah, but...” Mickey struggled to gesture towards the outside of the ship. “We can at least get moving!  Who knows how long my parents are going to be safe, if they're safe at all? We need to start the journey!”

“Can't sail without a map,” Goofy said again.

Mickey's limit for that day's utter nonsense was being met. “Look, am I going to have to start ordering you around again?! I know you do this a million times every week, but my parents aren't just some story! They need my help! The kingdom needs them to rule! Pete might be able to handle it for a couple of days, but he's got some bad ideas about how things should be run. We have to hurry!”

“Can't sail without-”

“WHY NOT?!” Mickey had grabbed fistfuls of Goofy's shirt and began vigorously shaking him back and forth. “MOVE THIS SHIP, MAP OR NO MAP!”

“I have the map!” Panchito cheerfully shouted, walking into the scene and taking no mind that their newest addition looked ready to strangle the captain. “Now we can get going towards Mawarid!” He then rolled out the thin yellowing map onto the ship's wheel – the map and the wheel began to glow a glittering yellow, and all of the sails suddenly billowed, expanding and pushing forward. The ship began to move, despite the wind having died down moments ago.

Mickey blinked slowly before glancing at Goofy. “...The ship literally can't move without a map?”

“It's what I said.”

“... And the short answer why is...?”

“Magic.”

It began to dawn on Mickey that his epic journey wasn't going to be as much fun as he had been imagining moments earlier. He had wanted to start his eighteenth year of life with logic and straight-forward-thinking, and now he was aboard a flying ship with a crew of loonies. Now that he thought about it further, he hadn't packed anything either – not even his mother's lamp to read by. Thinking about his mother brought back all those earlier problems and a headache began to form. “I have no idea what I'm doing,” he said to no one.

“Let me see if I can help, amigo.” Panchito slapped his arm around Mickey's shoulders. “The ship is magic, but still sails as slow as one on water. So it will take us a day or two to get to Mawarid!”

“Mawarid...” Mickey felt his cheeks go red in humiliation. A city that close and Mickey knew nothing about it. Maybe he really was going to be a burden to the crew after all. “Why are we going there?”

“To stock up on supplies,” Goofy answered – now his hands were on the wheel, just to make sure any winds wouldn't set them off course. “We dunno how long this journey will take, plus we got a new crew member to take care of. Then we hit the kingdom of Taqs!”

“Specifically, we're going to rob it,” Panchito pointed out. “To make up for all the money we use in Mawarid.”

“After that, we'll head for the little town of Maelumat. I know a lady there that might be able to give us some clues where to look for your parents. When it comes to gossip around the world, she can't be beat,” Goofy said with a smile, remembering her fondly.

It sounded like a solid plan, and Mickey had to admit that for a bunch of weirdos, they were well-prepared weirdos. In a way, it did make sense – if they had a thousand and one adventures, they should have some idea of what they were doing. So where did Mickey fit in? What could he possibly do to help them? The depression that followed him throughout the kingdom began to creep back into his heart. Maybe he should've stayed behind to take care of the kingdom.

“So about tonight!” Panchito's vibrant voice cut through Mickey's self-loathing. “I know you probably want to keep it a secret, but I was wondering if I could get a hint about tonight's story?”

Mickey blinked three times in a row, trying to comprehend what was being asked of him. “Huh? Whaddya mean?”

“You're going to tell us some epic, amazing story, aren't you?” Panchito asked hopefully. “You are the Son of Scheherazade, after all! Surely you have her gift for captivating tales! We all can't wait to hear what you tell us later!”

“I, uh... I don't...” Mickey didn't want to give Panchito a reason to boot him off the ship, but Mickey had never been the creative sort. It might've been better to say that Mickey never bothered to see if he was. After all, when you had a famous storyteller for a mother, it wasn't as if you could ever top her tales. Thus, Mickey had never even made an attempt, thinking his own storytelling abilities were inferior right from the get-go. He was inferior. He shouldn't have come aboard, he shouldn't have tried to become something he wasn't, he-

“Say, Panchito,” Goofy interrupted. “That spare room we have above the kitchen, that ought to do for a sleeping space for Mickey here, huh?”

The rooster was successfully distracted. “A brilliant idea, mi capitán! I'll go make sure it's in tip-top shape!” He sped off like a bullet, doors slamming behind him.

Mickey rubbed one arm, unsure if he should thank Goofy, more unsure that Goofy did it on purpose. Goofy clicked his tongue. “You remember what I asked you to do when you said you wanted to join?”

“Huh?” Mickey raised his head and tried to remember. “Oh, um, the crow's nest?”

“Yup. Why don't you go up there and get started? Just needs a bit of touch up, is all.”

Mickey wasn't sure how to “touch up” a crow's nest, but by now he was far too embarrassed to ask. He didn't want to emphasize his worthlessness. “O-Okay,” he mumbled, and walked over to the intimidating mast. After taking a deep breath, he began to climb the small steps, trying to tell himself the view wouldn't be much different than the view from his room. When he reached the nest, it was indeed a little dirty, with mostly leftover food left behind and some messy rags sitting on the floor. The nest had a raised seat all around the pole, so you could lean back and watch the world pass you by.

The view wasn't like Mickey's bedroom at all.

Mickey gasped – the kingdom was further away, and he could see the vast desert that lay beyond the walls. It shone like gold dust in the sunlight, and he thought he could spy a group of bold travelers atop their furry camels. The sky was brilliantly blue, with light clouds shifting into funny faces as the ship sailed on. Mountains of stone lined the distance, casting their shadows over deep dunes. But what struck Mickey the most was the horizon and how far away it was – as if it was endless, infinite, that it could stretch on forever and no one would ever see where it began and finished. This was the world. It was so much bigger than the kingdom, so much bigger than what his mind could fathom.

Mickey gripped the edge of the nest. If the world was endless, so were the possibilities that lay ahead. Maybe out there, he'd find a special talent that only he could bring to the ship. Maybe he'd find a way to earn the praise and accolades heaped upon him, and be more than the son of Scheherazade. Maybe he could find someone who would want to be with him for him, and not for where and who he came from. Maybe none of those things would happen – but maybe was a powerful world. It gave him hope.

For a moment, Mickey wondered if that was the reason Goofy had sent him up there in the first place. It was difficult to say – was Goofy dumb, clever, or was it possible to be both at the same time? There were hundreds of questions to ask each member of this silly ship, but for now, Mickey decided they could wait. He wanted to watch the horizon and all the chances it could bring.

Down below, Goofy resumed humming. Not every moment of his life was filled with monsters and mayhem, and truth be told, it was these quiet moments that he treasured more than treasure.

“Oh, the world owes me a livin'...”

~*~

That night, Pete headed for his room, despite having full rights to the Sultan's room. He had been looking forward to the day where he could rest his heavy body onto all those pillows. Tonight, however, he doubted he would get much sleep. He grabbed the tallest scepter he could find from the Sultan's room before approaching his bedroom, gulping audibly as he glanced inside at the chest that was spewing black smoke. He was in trouble.

“Easy...” Pete inched into the room, slowly sliding out the scepter towards the chest. He had the jeweled top lightly poke the top, and slowly began to lift it. “Easy, easy, easy... Oookay, so, there was a teeny, tiny, itty bitty change to the plan...”

“I TOLD YOU TO CAPTURE ALL THREE OF THEM, YOU COLOSSAL FOOL!” The top of the chest slammed open, and a swirling torrent of shadows escaped, surrounding Pete in darkness. The shadows spun around and around, knocking over his bed and shattering his windows, the roar of the mysterious voice getting louder by the second. “MY PLAN ISN'T COMPLETE WITHOUT ALL THREE! WHERE IS THE BOY?!”

Pete swallowed down the urge to cry for his mommy, backing up as far as he could. “L-Look, how was I supposed to know the Sultana would have access to a flying carpet? I didn't even know they were a real thing until I saw one!” In hindsight, working for a magical evil being probably should have clued him in that there were a lot of things that didn't only exist in stories. “Can't the plan go on even with just those two? You've got the Sultan, just threaten him, and Scheherazade will do what you want!”

“DON'T SPEAK AS IF YOU KNOW BETTER THAN I!” The shadows slammed down onto the floor, sending an earthquake hard enough to make Pete fall onto his stomach. “The Sultan is more than willing to sacrifice his life it means helping his wife... but threatening the life of their child will be far more effective! WHERE! IS! THE! BOY!”

Pete managed to sit up on his knees, breathing slowly though his teeth. There was no way he could deliver this without further angering his master, so it would be best just to get it over with. “Well... you know that Sinbad guy Scheherazade has a thousand and one stories about? Turns out, he's real. And the boy went with him to rescue his parents. So he's long gone by now.” He then closed his eyes, waiting for further punishment. And waited. And waited. And...

Pete opened one eye. The shadows hadn't left, but they weren't actively trying to hurt him anymore either. Maybe the dark master was so in shock he couldn't do anything. Pete, never one to know when to take his luck and run, began to inch towards the chest. “Sir?” he asked, and got no response. “You know, I gotta say, you're handling this really well!” He then stuck his head over the shadowy chest. “I mean, if I were you, I would've showed no mercy, but I guess you-”

That was when a pair of ink-black hands thrust themselves out of the chest and snatched Pete by the shoulders. Pete screamed as he was suddenly yanked into the chest, and the lid slammed shut, with the shadows evaporating into mist.

In the morning, the servants were curious that Pete hadn't arrived for breakfast. When they entered his room, there was no trace of him, but the room had been trashed. As they panicked and tried to figure out who would rule over the kingdom, none of them noticed the locked chest tucked away in the corner.

~*~

It took two days to reach Mawarid, and during that time Mickey avoided the rest of the crew as much as possible. He wanted to know their past and their stories, how they all knew one another and learned their amazing abilities, but he feared that once he asked, they'd ask about him in turn – and he had nothing fantastic to boast of. It was an odd battle of his curiosity versus his self-loathing, and on the day they “landed” at the town, curiosity was starting to win. Goofy had gone down to tie the anchor to a sturdy building, and Clarabelle handed out lists of supplies to the crew.

“Everyone, stick to your list!” she announced while tapping her own paper with one finger. “Don't go overboard, and make sure to get everything on it! Return to the ship before sundown, and if all goes well, we should be ready to leave by mid-afternoon tomorrow.” She pointed to the birds. “Panchito, José, you're team one!”

The birds saluted. “Understood! I'll keep José from flirting too much!”

“We'll be back before Panchito can finish his next lyric!”

Clarabelle then gestured towards her husband. “Horace, I want you and Goofy to go with the son of Scheherazade! You'll be team two. Teach him the ropes!”

Mickey was insulted by one thing more than the other, and he raised his hand. “I know I never got out much, but even I know how to shop!”

“There's shopping,” Horace explained with finger guns, “And then there's bargain-hunting! I'll teach you how to sweet-talk the shopkeepers, and find the best deals for the best meals! When it comes being a cheapskate, no one can beat me.”

“Pluto and I will be team three,” Clarabelle finished, a thumb to her chest. “We'll guard the ship!” Mickey raised his hand again and Clarabelle answered the obvious question. “Yes, people will still try to attack a ship that's up in the air.” Mickey lowered his hand. “All right, you've got your assignments! Remember what I said – before sundown! Off you go!”

Mickey scratched Pluto's ear, wishing him well before tucking the list into his pants pocket and starting his climb downwards with the others. As they headed down, Mickey looked down at Horace, his curiosity winning one victory. “Say, uh, Horace? Mind if I ask you... how come you and Clarabelle are pirates with Goofy?”

“Oh, we're on our own epic quest, going back...” A pause for recollection. “Three years now? Three years sounds right. We're trying to find our martial-arts-master! See, when we were young, she and I both attended the best martial-arts dojo in the east. There lived a man who had the most powerful techniques in the whole wide world, and he was looking for apprentices to pass down his teachings. I learned all his hand-to-hand moves, and Clarabelle learned all his foot-to-foot moves.”

Mickey recalled the fight days ago, and yes, Horace had only fought with his fists, and Clarabelle had only used her legs. “...Wouldn't you be more powerful if you learned all the moves?”

“We were gunna, but our master disappeared.” Horace didn't seem terribly bothered by this, helping Mickey down once they reached the ground. “Since then, we've been trying to find him. We joined up with Goofy to better our chances.” Another pause, this time out of annoyance. “Well, I joined to better our chances of finding our master. Clarabelle wanted to better her chances of marrying Goofy.”

Mickey jumped, and now that they were below, he stared at Goofy for confirmation. Goofy merely shrugged, and the birds had long since left to do their own tasks. “But isn't she married to you, Horace?”

“She is now.” Horace started to walk, and the two followed. “But boy, it was hard winning her over! Stubborn as a mule, that one. But I never gave up! True love never lets you give up. Now our bond is stronger than ever, and nothing could ever tear the two of us apart!”

“... But you guys fight constantly.”

“We like fighting.” Horace grinned. “Ain't nobody that argues better than my Clarabelle! She's the only one who can match me when it comes to stubbornness! We'd never be able to put up with someone that couldn't handle us! Besides, love is different for everyone. Some people don't even recognize it when they feel it. But once you do, your life changes forever!”

Mickey almost gagged. One thing he didn't miss about his parent was the constant lovey-dovey affection between them, and he sincerely hoped it wouldn't be replicated on the ship. Oh, the key to his heart, oh, the wind in her sails, - ugh! “I'll just take your word on that. I'm not exactly looking for mushiness.”

Horace chuckled, smoothing out his list. “That might be for the best for now! Save the romance until after we find your parents.” He then read the list over, nodding once to himself. “First on the list, we're going to need two pounds of lemons.” Mickey began to wonder if he could make any additions to the list, like a lamp for his room, and he was about to ask when Horace spoke up once more. “Goofy, we should probably head right for the south market, they tend to have the best prices when it comes to-”

Goofy suddenly began running towards a gathered crowd up in the north.

Mickey blinked. “What's he doing?”

Horace groaned. “Nothing good, I promise you that.”

As the duo raced to join Goofy, they could see what everyone was facing – a hand-made stage had been constructed, five feet above the ground, and it was lined with fancy rugs and empty barrels. A tall rat in robes that were three sizes too long for him was standing there, shuffling a deck of purple cards. He smirked with gigantic teeth that went over his lips, and his snout was so large it cast its own shadow. His red and green cloth was made of the finest quality, Mickey could tell, and no doubt it had cost thousands. The rat then stopped shuffling, and held up a single card. “Is this your card?”

An old man at the front of the crowd frowned, shaking his bald head. “No, sir, it isn't.”

“Oh, what a shame,” the rat said with pretend melancholy, tossing his card over his shoulder. “Maybe it's somewhere else... I wish it was in your shoe!”

The old man squinted, then jerked – he lifted up his foot and pulled off his shoe. He reached inside and took out a card, and the crowd gasped. “This is my card!” Applause waved through the crowd, and Goofy clapped just as enthusiastically.

“Another marvel from Mortimer the Magnificent!” the rat declared for himself, taking a large bow before heading to one of the empty barrels. “Now, for my next trick...you can all see here, nothing inside, right?” He closed the barrel, and waved his hands. “... I wish...” He hesitated, eyes going back and forth, as if trying to decide. “I wish there was a...spotted...pink...monkey! Yeah, that'll do.” He then lifted the barrel's lid and reached inside – and he pulled out a spotted pink monkey, the little creature screeching in confusion. The audience roared with amazement, throwing small coins at the bottom of the stage.

“It's a magic show!” Goofy cheered, hopping up and down. “Can we stay and watch it, can we, can we, huh?”

Mickey balked. “A magic – Goofy, you fly on a magic ship! You've had a thousand and one magical adventures! How can some street tricks impress you?”

Goofy tilted his head, unable to comprehend, and Horace rubbed his temples. “Goofy, we don't have time for this! Clarabelle will have our heads if we're not back before sundown!”

“This probably isn't real magic anyway.” Mickey crossed his arms, watching Mortimer wishing to turn a carpet from silk to spiderwebs. “I bet it's all smoke and mirrors! If he had actual working magic like the ship, he wouldn't be wasting it on small coins! He could get himself whatever he wanted. Why would a real user of magic stick around in a small town?”

Horace raised his eyebrows. “That's awful clever of you, Mickey.”

“But it's fun!” Goofy insisted, eyes sticking to the stage, keeping his voice down so he wouldn't disturb the performance. “The best part about magic is the surprise, and surprises are what magic shows are all about!”

Mortimer drew himself up, backing away on the stage. “You know, I'm starting to think I don't have everyone's attention.” He grinned lasciviously, rubbing his fingers together. “So what's say we get a little eye candy to help me with the rest of the show?”

“I mean it, Goofy!” Mickey put his hands on his hips, not bothering to keep his own voice down. “We have to get supplies for the ship, and help save my parents! There is absolutely nothing that guy can do that would make me want to watch his show!”

“I wish...” Mortimer rolled his arms. “...for my beautiful assistant to appear!”

There was a burst of pink smoke on the stage right next to Mortimer, and a small flurry of glitter followed it, and various members of the audience “oohed” and “ahhed”. A small figure began to walk out of the smoke, and in that second, Mickey found something that made him want to watch the show.

“As you command, it has happened, my master!”

There in the dissipating pink smoke was a young woman with the most darling, beautiful blue eyes Mickey had not thought could ever exist. Her gorgeous dark fur was as dark as the softest night, and her smile illuminated her peachy cheeks. Her thin green dress left little to the imagination, similar to dancing girls Mickey had occasionally seen on the seedier streets of his kingdom. Golden rings lined up on her fingers, all of them attached to her dress so that when she waved, her dress would wave with her. Everything about her was tiny and delicate, like one wrong touch would soil her completely. Even her voice was perfection, a melodious harmony that sang sweeter than nightingales with every word. “Can we give my master another hand for his amazing performance?”

In this moment Mickey forgot about his anger, his parents, and essentially everything that existed that was not this gorgeous girl with long lashes and petite hands. It was like magic – he would have never believed someone like this could exist unless he saw it for himself. He stared and stared and stared, afraid that if he blinked she'd suddenly vanish and she'd have been nothing more than an elaborate fantasy. He didn't know what to do with himself or this sudden rush of inexplicable joy dancing throughout his head.

Unbeknownst to him, the world was in fact still moving on regardless of how he felt. Horace had even continued talking while the girl was asking people to clap. “...So it's just like the kid said, we don't have a moment to lose. Let's go!”

“We can't go!” Mickey suddenly sputtered, jerking his head to flail at a startled Horace. “We-we have to stay! We should stay!”

Thrown off, Horace, scratched his head. “What? Seconds ago you were insisting we had to get going! Why do you wanna stay all of a sudden?”

“This, uh... it could, you know...” Mickey kept looking back to the girl, not wanting to miss a second of her movements. “Might be vital to... my parents, or something...” He wasn't even able to make coherent sentence structure at this point and he did not care.

Horace, he who considered himself the most sane person aboard the ship, glanced at Minnie, then at Mickey's ever reddening face. “...Fine time for you to start looking for mushiness.”

“What? No! No, I'm not!” Mickey insisted and oh goodness she was talking and even her voice was cute and she was so so so so cute and he was losing the feeling in his knees. This was normal! This was perfectly normal! Sure it was! Just because he wanted to smell her hair and hold her hands and call her the key to his lock didn't mean -

… The key to his – oh dang it!