#drake bulldogs

[athleticperfection1]

Drake Softball

[bongaboi]

Drake: 2023-24 Missouri Valley Men's Basketball Champions

ST. LOUIS, Mo. – Atin Wright went down on his knees and slapped the court with two hands, smiling at his Drake teammates while Tucker DeVries headed to the free-throw line, as the crowd chanted “M-V-P.”

Wright is a newcomer for the Bulldogs, drawn from his native California by the promise of winning. DeVries is the two-time Missouri Valley Conference player of the year, the son of Drake coach Darian DeVries.

Together – and with big plays by Darnell Brodie and Conor Enright – they helped land Drake back in the NCAA Tournament, holding off a late rally by Indiana State for an 84-80 victory Sunday in the Valley championship game at the Enterprise Center.

It was a second consecutive tournament triumph for the Bulldogs, who won’t have to sweat out a week of waiting to find out if they’re going to the Big Dance. They’re in. Again. For a third time in four years.

But it wasn’t easy. Indiana State trailed by double-digits for much of the game. But the Sycamores awoke late, with a 10-0 burst fueled by Isaiah Swope. He had eight points in that stretch, and scored all of his 19 after intermission. His four-point play gave Indiana State a 74-73 lead, its first since 2-0 in the opening minutes.

Drake was unfazed.

Brodie connected on a short hook shot. Enright fought through a screen to draw a foul on the defensive end, then calmly canned a 3-pointer to put Drake back ahead 79-76. Brodie made two free throws late, patiently waiting through a timeout for his opportunity, and DeVries made one to produce the final tally for the Bulldogs, who soon were swarming off of their bench to celebrate what they worked all winter to accomplish.

Drake (28-6), the second seed, was making its fourth consecutive appearance in the Valley title game, only the second school to ever do so (Tulsa, no longer a Valley member, was in six straight from 1982-87). The Bulldogs beat Bradley here a year ago to win this event for only the second time in school history (the first was in 2008).

Top-seeded Indiana State (28-6) last won this tournament in 2011, when they were coached by Iowa native Greg Lansing.

Sunday’s showdown was dazzling from the outset. The first media timeout didn’t come until 12:07 remained in the first half, as the Valley’s top two offensive teams set a frenzied pace early. All five Drake starters scored in the opening 5 minutes, including back-to-back-to-back 3-pointers by Enright, DeVries and Kevin Overton. When play was finally stopped by a deadball situation, Drake, the deeper team, led 21-13 and was able to sub in three fresh players.

Moments later, when Overton and DeVries both went to the bench with two early fouls, Wright took over, nailing a trio of 3-pointers to push Drake ahead 37-23 and prompt an Indiana State timeout. The Bulldogs connected on their first seven 3-point attempts.

Then it was Sycamores guard Ryan Conwell’s turn to assert himself, reeling off seven consecutive points to cut that deficit in half.

Drake pushed its lead to 45-32 at halftime, boosted by 15 points from Wright and 14 from DeVries, and a defensive effort that held the Sycamores scoreless over the final 4:24 of the half. It was Indiana State’s largest halftime deficit this season.

Drake got off to a strong start in the second half as well, making its first three field-goal attempts, two of them by DeVries, as the lead swelled to 53-37. But even that never felt comfortable against the Sycamores, who pushed Drake to the brink.

The Bulldogs didn’t blink. They’re champions again, with two nets and a trophy to show for it.

[longtamy]

The First Time You Meet Me You’ll Think I’m Crazy The Second Time You_ll Know For Sure T shirt

[iowacitypast]

Iowa-Drake football game, The University of Iowa, September 27, 1941

Creator: Kent, Frederick W.

Final score Iowa 25, Drake 8.

https://digital.lib.uiowa.edu/islandora/object/ui%3Aictcs_6600

[mimi-0007]

The Johnny Bright incident was a violent on-field assault against African-American player Johnny Bright by a white opposing player during an American college football game held on October 20, 1951, in Stillwater, Oklahoma. The game was significant in itself as it marked the first time that an African-American athlete with a national profile and of critical importance to the success of his team, the Drake Bulldogs, had played against Oklahoma A&M College (now Oklahoma State University) at Oklahoma A&M's Lewis Field. Bright's injury also highlighted the racial tensions of the times and assumed notoriety when it was captured in what was later to become both a widely disseminated and eventually Pulitzer Prize–winning photo sequence.

[footballjockgear]

Drake University Bulldogs - Iowa

Inspired by post:

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

“Perhaps I should look more into chiropterology or ornithology as a possible future life goal after all this is over, I’m sure I’m more of an expert then others my age if not older and already on the field.”

Damian gave a quick glance over at the large bat hanging next to him on a customized bar set, customized in a way that it might actually just be a small ladder with some steps missing to make sure there was enough hanging room but to be fair it worked and was light enough for him to move around with ease even when the other choose to rest on it has well.

The bat, a Livingstone's fruit bat, just nodded its head at his statement, giving off a seemingly pleased aura at the possibility of a such careers.

Father always did seem happy do indulge them in any chosen path that didn’t involve the family’s nighttime job.

Besides Grayson’s stint as an officer…

And yes, he was sure the overwhelming sized beast of a bat was his Father, no matter what form, he would recognize the man much like he could recognize the others.

Coming home from a patrol, no it was not him and Jon hanging out, they were doing important things like feeding the stray cats, solving a simple case of stolen goods and maybe shattering the kneecap of a few jerks…okay…maybe he was the one doing the shattering but Jon took them to the hospital like the good team up they were, anyway that wasn’t the point.

The point was when he came home and discovered his family and Drake had been cursed to take on their namesake form…he didn’t act as distressed as he should have and instead took absolute delight in the fact everyone was an animal now.

Sure he too would have enjoyed being cursed, which yes, he knows that isn’t the point of a curse, but it was nice to be relied on without voiced concerns questioning him. Why he preferred animal companions anyway…

This was a learning experience for all it seemed.

Father chirped at him, head tilting in a questioning manner and eyes studying his face…concerned…

Luckily before Damian would subject himself to explaining his feelings about being the odd one out and how it seemed they all have gotten closer miraculously, the ding of the elevator caught their attention leading to Pennyworth stepping out looking neutral as a bulldog bat let its feeling known as it screeched on the gentleman’s shoulder.

The screeching most likely caused by the Asian Koel that was flying around screeching back.

Seems like Todd and Grayson have gotten in another argument…how when they are literally unable to speak was a mystery in its own…

He could hear the others starting to shrill back at the commotion and it wouldn't be long till he was surrounded by the flock of birds and bats trying to see what was going on.

The slight movement under his hood had his newest companion peeking their tiny head out in interest, the Honduran White bat just sneezed at the sight at the group crowding around the batcomputer, a few even climbing over and on Father as though he was just another hanging point or a big fluffy nest.

Damian was unsure who this was, besides the fact they obviously had something to do with this mess since every time the small bat was out and by itself, one of the others would pin it down with their weight, screech unholy at it, or even take off with it in their talons.

Most of it was scare tactics but since the last incident left his new friend with an injured wing and a few very remorseful family members. Their guest had decided Damian was the best place to hide and depend on and had refused to come out near the others.

Which was fine, it made it easier for them to work this out when both parties obviously wanted to return everyone to their right species.

They just needed a starting point…

“Master Jason please stop biting your siblings!”

And to get everyone to stop attacking each other…

Just a quick little drabble, wasn’t sure what to make everyone else but I figured others would know, hope you enjoy it though!

Livingstone’s fruit bat: One of largest bats. Wingspan can grow up to 6 ft plus.

Bulldog bat: The loudest bat. Face of a bulldog and sharp teeth.

Asian Koel: Black cuckoo bird with tint of blue in its feathers, known to be one of the most annoying bird breeds. It call sounds like its going uwu.

Honduran Bats: Tiny little white bats with leaf shaped noses.

Pfft, yes! Absolutely!

Someone else suggested Danny being the bio brother/son of one of the batfam and Desiree granting his wish to know his family and somehow turning them all into animals. Maybe she does it just for lolz her powers aren't entirely clear.

Anyway they all blame him for the animal thing and Danny is just chilling out in Damians hood/pockets. Danny likes being a bat and being spoiled taken care of, especially if he's not dealing with Amity anymore for whatever reason.

He has no place to go and no reason to leave so maybe he stays a bat even after the others are returned to thier true forms. Everyone assumes hes some type of magical bat but doesn't question it too much further until a long time later when one of the kids are in a part of the mansion that no one but Alfred ever really goes to and finds a room decorated in a space theme. Sus.

Also the tiny white bat follows Damian everywhere. School? Check. Car? Check. Patrol? Check. He just can't shake it. Frankly he doesn't want to.

[themurphyzone]

Son of Darkwing AU: Just Like You Ch 1

Summary: AU where DT17!Drake Mallard is the son of famous actor Jim Starling aka the original Darkwing Duck.

Eight-year old Drake Starling looks up to his father, who happens to be his favorite superhero, Darkwing Duck. To a smaller than average, timid duckling often bullied by his peers, Darkwing is everything he wants to be when he grows up. He's handsome, brave, and confident, but most importantly, he always stands up for what's right no matter what.

If only the rest of the world could see that side of Darkwing too.

AN: I just found the Jim Starling is Drake’s father AU concept too interesting to pass up writing a story on. Plus I just wanted to take a break from my usual fandom and write something different. There will be a short epilogue after this that will be posted in the next day or two.

AO3 Link

“My dad is a superhero! He always says the coolest things and saves the day and beats up the bad guys and gets to kiss Morgana!”  

Drake grinned to his second grade class, proudly displaying his drawing of Darkwing Duck perched dutifully on the St. Canard Clocktower, his keen eyes surveying the fair city below for evildoers, purse-snatchers, and shoppers who had eleven items in the ten items or less lane at the grocery store. 

How many other kids could claim their father regularly braved the rough waves of St. Canard Pier to fight a waterlogged mutt, engaged in intense physical and mental training to build his immunity to the poisons and powders of a professor turned mutant plant, broached terrifying tornadoes and thunderstorms to reach the megalomaniacal Megavolt, and locked away thieving jesters for copyright infringement? 

Well, Drake didn’t know what copyright infringement was, but it was definitely a most dastardly, devious, and despicable act if it caught Darkwing Duck’s attention!

In the front row, a bulldog pup barked out a harsh laugh. 

“Darkwing’s not real, you dork!” Brandon Barker snorted, his elbow thumping the table with a loud thud. “You can’t actually believe these things!” 

His friends snickered behind their hands, and Drake’s wide grin slipped away. He shuffled his feet, cheek feathers growing warm with embarrassment. His hands shook and crinkled his drawing at the edges. 

“O-of course he’s real!” Drake protested. All eyes were on him, and his heart pounded with the fear of losing their support. He spread his purple coat out on each side, imitating Darkwing’s billowing cape against the night wind. “He’s the terror who flaps in the night, the wrench of justice in the inner workings of villainy, t-the engine that, um, I meant he’s the elephant in the living room of slime…no, crime!”  

Brandon Barker’s laughter rang in his ears, loud and mocking and shameless. 

Drake clutched the drawing to his chest, trying not to ruin Darkwing Duck in the center of the paper. 

Only a handful of his classmates applauded his presentation, more out of politeness than anything else. Three girls were whispering and passing notes to each other, Phillip Trotski in the back row was asleep, and everyone who wasn’t friends with Brandon stared blankly at the ticking of the clock as the end of the school day drew closer by the second. 

My Dad is the most amazing duck in the world. Why can’t any of you see that? 

Drake stared at the trash can by Mrs. Crane’s desk, tilting his head so his classmates couldn’t see the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. He didn’t want to give them another reason to laugh at him. 

There were already too many. 

He flinched at the sharp, loud slap of a ruler hitting the desk. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard it, Mrs. Crane always did that when she wanted them to pay attention, but it never failed to be a frightening noise. 

“Don’t laugh at your classmates’ presentations, Brandon. Quincy. Issac.” Mrs. Crane scolded, giving each boy a stern look of disapproval. Quincy and Issac sank in their seats, embarrassed to be caught. Brandon only pouted, not looking sorry at all. “Next Monday, you will each spend five minutes in the corner at recess and think about your behavior.” 

“But Mrs. Crane-”  Brandon protested, though Mrs. Crane quickly cut him off. 

“Ten minutes.” 

Brandon’s elbow thumped onto his desk. “Stupid Drakey,” he mumbled. 

Drake covered his face with one hand, shielding himself from Brandon’s scornful glare. 

Mrs. Crane stood up so quickly that her chair flew behind her and slammed against the whiteboard. Her long, thin shadow fell across Brandon, who shot a pleading look at Quincy and Issac, but the other boys inched their desks away from Mrs. Crane’s wrath. 

“Young man,” she said icily, in the tone Darkwing himself would use on a villain if they’d committed an especially heinous crime. “I will be speaking to your parents later. And you will spend the next week indoors, copying the dictionary instead of playing basketball with your friends.” 

Nobody, not even Brandon, dared to speak. The class gathered their books, backpacks, and belongings with less enthusiasm than usual when the final bell rang at three. 

Drake stayed by the teacher’s desk, unwilling to pack up just yet. He knew he’d wind up tripping over a pencil or backpack strap or somebody’s outstretched leg if he tried to return to his desk in the middle row. 

“Drake,” Mrs. Crane said quietly, so that his classmates wouldn’t hear as they were ushered out of the room by a teacher’s aide. “Stay behind for a moment. I won’t keep you long if you’re taking the bus home.” 

Drake gulped. Did she know he’d fallen asleep during reading time?  

“I-I’m not, Mrs. Crane,” Drake stammered. “Dad’s picking me up today.”

He’d never been alone in the classroom with Mrs. Crane before, and seeing that he barely came up to her waist made him nervous. He was the shortest in the class, which only gave his bullies even more reasons to pick on him. 

To his relief, Mrs. Crane pulled her chair around and sat down. She still towered over him, but Drake felt like he could breathe a little easier now. 

“You were supposed to talk about a hero in your life,” she said, peering down her long bill at him. Drake wilted at the disappointment in her voice. “Not one on a silly TV show.” 

But Darkwing wasn’t silly. And it wasn’t for little kids either. 

“...but my dad is Darkwing Duck,” Drake said meekly, picking at a loose thread on his coat. Nobody seemed to understand that. “He’s a hero.” 

His dad always threw the bad guys in jail and saved St. Canard. He was cool, confident, and never gave up even when all hope was lost. What part of that wasn’t heroic? 

“Your…father…plays a hero,” Mrs. Crane corrected, shaking her head like the word ‘father’ disgusted her.  “Being a hero in real life is completely different.” 

Drake tilted his head. Wasn’t Dad a hero all the time? There really wasn’t much of a difference. 

“How?” he asked, more confused than ever. 

Mrs. Crane only took their spelling quizzes from the basket on her desk and laid them out. “I’m afraid you’ll have to find that answer for yourself,” she replied. She uncapped her red pen and began to mark the paper. “Run along now.” 

The conversation was over. Drake shuffled to the back of the classroom and retrieved his Darkwing Duck backpack. It was large on him, covering his back like a turtle’s shell. Sure, he had to stoop a bit while he wore it, but he didn’t mind. 

He slid his Darkwing drawing, homework folder, the Mystifying Mystery of the Missing Mare library book he’d checked out earlier that day, and his pencil case into the backpack. 

Packing up in peace was nice. 

For once, nobody tried to steal his pencils or knock the library books off his desk. 

“Drake?” Mrs. Crane called as he opened the classroom door, ready to leave now that he had everything.

Startled, Drake turned around so quickly that he almost fell beakfirst onto the floor. 

“You’re getting much better at speaking in front of your classmates,” Mrs. Crane said. A rare smile tugged at the corner of her beak. “Good job.” 

While Darkwing Duck would’ve made a triumphant speech, Drake could only stammer out a thank you and hurry out the door. 

Mrs. Crane’s words followed him down the hallway, only confusing him more with every step he took. 

Playing a hero? Being a hero? Dad is a hero! Why doesn’t anyone believe me when I tell them? 

He got weird looks whenever he told people that his dad was the one and only Darkwing Duck. 

Kids laughed at him. The grown-ups would just give him odd, pitying looks. Even the adults at Golden Goose Studios changed the subject when he tried to describe Dad’s awesome rapidfire karate chops that took down Megajack, a villainous fusion of Megavolt and Quackerjack. 

But nobody ever believed him. 

He sucked in a breath as he joined the other kids outside. It was always crowded out here after school. Several teachers kept a watchful eye on everyone as they played on the stone steps and grassy hills surrounding the building. Two long lines of cars waited in the parking lot, parents shouting for their kids from open windows so they could get out as fast as possible.  

Drake perched on his tiptoes, staying at the very top of the staircase so Dad could see him. It was lonely up here, but he needed to stay separate from the crowd so he wouldn’t be lost. 

Okay, don’t lose focus! Drake Starling must be ever-vi…what was that word Darkwing always used again? Vigilicious? I think that was it! Drake Starling must be ever-vigilicious when searching the streets below for his transport! 

He didn’t see Dad’s car anywhere. 

Drake fiddled with the straps of his backpack as one classmate after another left with their parents. Dad’s filming sessions tended to run long, so Drake tended to be one of the last kids to be picked up if it was his turn. 

He understood why Dad couldn’t make it on time, even though he sometimes worried that he’d have to sleep on the school stairs overnight, like the people who camped out in tents and sleeping bags downtown. 

Suddenly, there was a loud, screeching honk from a silver van, and the kids along the sidewalk leapt back in shock. The van window rolled down, revealing a large, furious boar with a pair of sharp tusks that poked out from his bottom lip. 

“Watch where you’re going, you weirdo!” the boar roared, shaking his fist at a purple-clad duck with a large fedora and long, flowing cape who’d crossed in front of his van. 

“Dad!” Drake exclaimed, heart leaping with excitement. He’d finished early for once! And he’d even come as Darkwing Duck!

None of his other classmates could say Darkwing Duck picked them up from school!

“The crosswalk light was green! How ‘bout you watch where you’re going, porky?” Dad snapped, storming up to the window of the angry boar. He jabbed a finger at the boar’s snout, a fist clenched at his side. “Don’t you know who I am?”

“I’m up here, Dad!” Drake shouted, waving his arms and jumping as high as possible so Dad could see him above everyone else. “Over here! Look this wa-aaaaayyyyy!” 

He leaned too far over the step, screaming as his beak painfully collided with stone. He tasted gravel in his mouth, knees stinging as they smacked against each bumpy step all the way to the bottom of the staircase. 

With his unexpected freefall at an end, Drake laid beneath his heavy backpack, unable to stand on his own. Grit clung to his knees and elbows, and his peers’ legs and feet crowded around him. 

Dozens of eyes bored into him. Shocked whispers and gasps rippled through his onlookers. 

Then came Brandon Barker’s howl of laughter, loud and mocking and cruel. 

Drake wanted to pull his head and limbs inside his backpack like a turtle and never come out again. 

This wasn’t the sort of attention he wanted. 

He’d have to figure out how to eat and drink and watch his favorite shows under here-

“EVERYONE BACK OFF MY KID IF YOU KNOW WHAT’S GOOD FOR YOU!” 

Drake gasped at that heroic, commanding voice that always forced a crowd to stop and listen no matter what they were doing. And it wasn’t just any other heroic, commanding voice either! 

“Dad!” Drake exclaimed. He sprung up, the scrapes on his knees not bothering him in the slightest as he pounced upon his dad’s waist. “You’re early!” 

“Agh-hey!” Dad made a choking noise, his body stiff as a board in Drake’s hug before he managed to pry him off. “Watch the suit, kid. It’s freshly ironed. Can’t have you or anyone else wrinkling it.” 

Drake inhaled a light, fresh scent from the awe-inspiring Darkwing outfit. “Your suit smells funny! Um, I mean funny in a nice way! It’s not bad or anything! I like it!” he exclaimed, quickly backpedaling when Dad raised an eyebrow. 

“Well, that makes one of us,” Dad sighed, his long beak crinkling in distaste. “My clueless costume designers refuse to understand that Darkwing Duck does not require carnation scented freshener while fighting the cantankerous criminals of St. Canard. Besides, it clogs his beak.”

He sneezed loudly, a shower of droplets hitting an unfortunate young cardinal in the face. 

“Ewww, gross!” the cardinal stuck his tongue out in disgust. He wiped the droplets onto his shirt and stumbled away. 

Everyone else backed up and gave them a wide berth. 

Dad rolled his eyes. “Kids these days,” he grumbled. “Can’t even handle the slightest inconvenience.” 

Drake grinned, unable to stop bouncing on his toes. “Or see how cool your costume is?” 

“Heh. That too,” Dad let out a short, hacking laugh, ruffling the feathery tuft on Drake’s head. A strong arm wrapped around Drake’s shoulders and led him away from the school. “Let’s get outta this dump, sport. I parked the Ratcatcher by the soccer field. Less crowded over there. Don’t want any of these uncultured yokels ruining the paint job.” 

If this was a dream, then he never wanted to wake up again. He was finally getting to ride in the ultimate criminal-catching contraption of all time! Auntie never allowed Dad to take him for a ride no matter how much Drake begged, even within studio grounds. She always said it was too dangerous, as if she didn’t remember who she was talking to. But Dad always listened to her, even though he complained about it all the time. 

“You finally convinced Auntie to let me ride in the Ratcatcher with you?” Drake asked eagerly. “She told me I wasn’t big enough last time I asked her! I don’t think she knows I grew a whole two inches last summer!” 

He puffed out his chest proudly and lifted his beak in the triumphant pose Darkwing Duck would strike at the end of an episode. 

“Oh, I convinced her alright!” Dad proclaimed. “I’ve honed my persuasion techniques to a highly advanced art form. No actress or criminal alive stands a chance against good old-fashioned Darkwing charm!” 

He pumped his fist into the air, and Drake copied his action with a cheer, only to leap out of his feathers when a car honked loudly. 

“GET OFF THE ROAD, FREAK!” a bulldog woman roared, leaning out the open window of her minivan and fixing them with a furious glare. 

With a firm shove, Drake was swept behind his father protectively. Drake stumbled, clinging to Dad’s cape to avoid her ire. He saw Dad’s deep frown, his defensive stance, his powerful fists balled, and Drake knew that if he was going to be anything like Darkwing Duck someday, he couldn’t just hide behind Dad’s cape whenever he was scared. 

He had to try and be the bravest duckling ever. 

Tightly gripping the cape between his fingers, Drake carefully peered out from behind his dad. 

You can do this, Drake. All you have to do is get dange- 

Then Drake locked eyes with Brandon Barker, who gave him a toothy smirk and pounded his fist into the palm of his hand. Drake yelped and hid himself from view, already dreading the day Brandon would follow through on his threat. 

“Yeah! Get off the road, freaks!” Brandon taunted, his upper body hanging out the window, jowls flapping in the breeze. 

“Sit, Brandon!” the female bulldog snapped, and a strange, panicked expression crossed the bully’s face before he obeyed. “I’m already dealing with one costumed clown. I don’t have the patience for another.”

“Clown?” Dad shouted, feathers puffing out in outrage. “Broken any mirrors lately with your horrendous makeup job, you bi-” 

A passing duck covered her daughter’s ears and hurried her to the sidewalk, glaring at Dad the entire time. 

“-iiiiiiiig jerk. That’s what I was gonna say!” Dad called to the other parent, who quickly bundled her child into a nearby car. 

“Buncha braindead morons. Don’t have the decency to recognize a Starling when they see one,” Dad muttered. He grabbed Drake’s shoulder, roughly guiding him towards the soccer field. 

The car sped off, a cloud of smoke and dust left in its wake. 

Freak. 

Why couldn’t anyone else see Dad as a hero? He was brave and tough and smart, a master of twenty-five kinds of martial arts, and always knew exactly what to say and do when a villain threatened St. Canard. 

Drake couldn’t defend himself or Dad without being ignored, teased, or getting odd looks from teachers. Even his uncles stumbled over their words when they spoke about Dad. 

An engine roared to life. 

“Hey, sport,” Dad called. He was perched atop the Ratcatcher, hands already on the handlebars, looking even cooler in real life than his promotional photos.

Drake blinked, not realizing they’d made it to the Ratcatcher at all. He’d only seen the motorcycle from the sidelines or on a television screen before, and it was much bigger than he expected. He took a step back, not wanting to be engulfed in its shadow. 

Dad gave him a confident grin, gesturing to the sidecar where he’d normally give tied up criminals a ride to prison. 

“You’re speechless. I understand completely,” he said, patting the sleek hood of the Ratcatcher fondly. “But you’re not going anywhere if you insist on standing by with your beak open.”

His words washed over Drake, and despite his worries, Drake knew his dad was right. If he wanted to achieve his dream of riding in the Ratcatcher, then he’d have to climb in first. 

With a burst of confidence, Drake jumped into the sidecar. For a moment, he struggled to clear the metal wall completely, but he took a deep breath and pushed against it. He yelped, falling onto the seat with his feet above his head. 

Maybe I should’ve taken my backpack off first, Drake thought, unable to move from his awkward position. 

“A little help, Dad?” he asked meekly. 

Sighing, Dad let the engine idle before he grabbed the handle of Drake’s backpack and pulled him upright. Though it was rough, Drake bit back a yelp, not wanting to disappoint his hero.

But the uneasy feeling only became worse when he didn’t see anything he could use to protect his head. 

“Shouldn’t I have a helmet? What if something happens?” Drake asked, hiking his backpack over his head just in case. He thought of a commercial he’d seen the day before, where a kid hadn’t worn his helmet while riding his bike and had to be taken to the hospital with a nasty cut to his forehead. The image made his stomach churn. 

“You worry too much, kid. Nothing’s gonna happen,” Dad assured him. 

o-o-o-o

Drake played with the Quackerjack toy he’d gotten from his Hungry Hungry Hippo Meal, trying to avoid the stern glare of the police officer, a tall, broad-chested bald eagle who could probably rip through steel with the talons on his feet alone. Dark shades covered his eyes. His navy uniform displayed the letters SCPD on his sleeve, surrounded by stars. 

“James Starling,” the eagle drawled. “It’s been a while.” 

“Hello, Sammy,” Dad mimicked the eagle’s accent, one leg crossed over the other as he ate his bacon cheeseburger. “Still can’t get my name right, I see. It’s just Jim. Always has been, and that’s the name I plan to use for my star on the Walk of Fame.” 

The eagle took his dark shades off and flicked them shut with a sharp snap, clipping them to the front of his uniform. 

“That’s Officer Skye to you,” he said coldly. The temperature inside Hamburger Hippo seemed to drop several degrees. 

Drake shivered, and he fed a waffle fry to Quackerjack to avoid the annoyed looks Dad and Officer Skye gave each other. 

Even villains need to eat so they have enough energy to carry out their evil plan….

“Ran out of donuts to chase, Sammy?” Dad scoffed. “Or is there another reason you wanted to interrupt our father-son bonding time? I don’t appreciate being tailed to the parking lot of this joint.” 

Officer Skye reached into his pocket, pulling out a small notepad and pen. “Hope your idea of bonding time doesn’t include jail, Starling.” 

“...jail?” Drake whispered, staring in horror at Officer Skye, who continued writing in his notepad. The eagle wouldn’t look him in the eye. 

Why? Only villains go to jail, and Dad’s not a villain! 

Then Drake spotted a pair of handcuffs peeking out from Officer Skye’s belt, and he quickly latched onto Dad’s arm so he couldn’t be arrested. 

Dad made an odd, strangled gasp as he struggled to free his arm. 

“What the-hey, let go of my arm, kiddo! You’re getting ketchup all over my blazer!” 

But Drake only clung to his arm tighter than before. “Y-you can’t take my dad to jail, officer! It was…um, probably a frame job!” 

Both grown-ups stared at him, and Drake shrank away at the attention. 

“A frame job,” Officer Skye repeated in disbelief. 

Dad only shrugged. 

“You know, like the first episode of Darkwing Duck!” Drake explained. Why didn’t the grown-ups understand? “A bunch of thieves framed Darkwing for robbing a train and he had to break himself out of jail! Then he proved the thieves were behind the whole plot and the police commissioner apologized to Darkwing for jailing him!” 

A hand closed Drake’s bill and held it shut. 

“Kids,” Dad chuckled to Officer Skye, whose beak was twisted into a frown. “Always saying the most interesting things when they should probably be quiet.” 

His voice dipped low, his tone a warning, like a snake waiting to strike. Drake let go of his father’s blazer, spooked by the strange sound.

“I see you’ve done nothing to correct your son’s impression of the justice system, Starling,” Officer Skye drawled. “Is he at all aware that law enforcement does not require the help of reckless, gloryhounding vigilantes to arrest criminals, unlike your ridiculous show?” 

“RIDICULOUS?” Dad shrieked, feathers ruffling in outrage. He leapt upwards, standing on his chair and glaring at Officer Skye. His posture was rigid, hands clenched into fists. “DARKWING DUCK IS THE PEAK OF TELEVISION, YOU NUT!” 

The entire restaurant fell silent, their attention on Dad and Officer Skye. Drake shrank away from their scrutiny, curling up in his chair and trying to appear even smaller than he already was. A mother stood up and dragged her two children away by their arms. By the soda machine, a goose hadn’t noticed his drink was overflowing. 

The stillness was only broken by a surprised duckling, whose brown hair was tied back with a large pink bow. 

Molly Clearwater, Drake realized, and he prayed Molly wouldn’t recognize him. She never stops talking! Everyone at school’s gonna find out….

“Dad! Dad! That’s Drake from school!” she shouted, dashing Drake’s hopes immediately. “Why’s he with that purple weirdo? Why’s the policeman so mad at them? How come-oomph!” 

Molly’s dad quickly clamped his hand around her bill. 

Drake wanted to sink into the ground and never come out again. Their whispers and stares cut through him, and he couldn’t ignore them no matter how much he tried. 

Even Officer Skye was watching him. 

Am I going to jail too? 

Would he have to learn how to sleep on an uncomfortable piece of wood? Or be forced to wear nothing but black and white stripes forever? 

Slowly, Drake peered up at the officer, whose expression seemed…different. 

Softer. Less harsh. 

Then Officer Skye turned to his notepad and wrote something down. He ripped the top sheet and slapped it onto Dad’s bill. 

Dad sputtered in surprise, the chair wobbling when he nearly lost his footing. He ripped the paper off the edge of his bill, crumpling it under his fist. 

“And just what is this supposed to be?” Dad spat. He waved the paper in Officer Skye’s face. 

“A speeding ticket and a list of citations,” Officer Skye replied, and Dad’s bill dropped to the ground in shock. “You were twenty miles above the speed limit, in addition to you and your child not wearing a helmet, lack of a front license plate, and disturbing the peace.” 

Dad’s eyes widened as he hurriedly read the paper. He mumbled under his breath in disbelief before scowling at Officer Skye. 

“What, you boys in blue don’t have any muggings to stop or medal ceremonies to attend?” he scoffed. “This is extortion! I won’t be swindled out of my hard-earned cash! Expect a call from my lawyer in the near future!” 

Officer Skye stepped forward, his hooked beak pushing against Dad’s long bill. “There is one reason and one reason alone why I’m not placing you in cuffs right now. So I suggest you start acting like the role model you portray yourself to be. See you in court, Starling.” 

Before Dad could respond, Officer Skye walked out of the restaurant. Within a minute, his police car peeled out of the parking lot and disappeared around the corner. 

Slowly, everyone returned to their meals and conversations, chatter filling in the silence once again. The grownups gave annoyed glances at Dad, while others gave Drake a strange, pitying look. 

Drake wished they’d pay attention to their food instead. 

Behind the counter, several workers watched the scene unfold until an older dog broke up the group. They quickly returned to taking orders and making food, though they snuck glances at Dad when they weren’t busy. The dog marched up to Dad, pointing to a nametag that had ‘manager’ printed in bold letters. 

“Sir, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave the premises,” he said in a tone that left no room for argument. 

Dad huffed in frustration, stuffing the paper into his pocket. “Fine,” he growled, hopping down from the chair and shoving past the dog. “Come on, sport. Let’s get outta this dump.” 

Drake hurried to his father, clutching his Quackerjack toy close to his heart. Dad’s strides were long and powerful, forcing Drake to move faster so he wouldn’t be left behind. 

“Hey, Dad…you’re not really going to jail, are you?” Drake whispered once they were safely out in the parking lot. His skin pricked, and he was scared that if he turned around, he’d see everyone in the restaurant judging them. 

The policeman hadn’t handcuffed Dad…yet. Was he just waiting for the right time? Maybe the police were right around the corner, waiting for a reason to take him. 

“Oh, quit worrying already. Heroes don’t go to jail, Drake,” Dad snapped, jamming the key into the Ratcatcher’s ignition. “Good guys like me don’t belong behind bars. Now get in before some other power-tripping cop shows up.” 

Drake climbed into the sidecar, managing to do it without help this time. He turned to Dad, ready to share his exciting news, but he didn’t look his way. Dad’s entire mood had been soured. 

Neither of them spoke on the ride home.  

o-o-o-o-o

Auntie and Uncle Tino were waiting for them in the garage of Lot 9, where the Ratcatcher was parked when it wasn’t in use. They were still dressed in their villain costumes from filming earlier that day, a floor-length scarlet gown for Auntie while Uncle Tino was in earthy green and brown tones to match the not-technically-a-villain plant-duck mutant he played. 

Drake waved to them as Dad pulled into the garage, only stopping when Auntie crossed her arms and frowned. He couldn’t see her feet, but he could hear one tapping impatiently against the ground. He avoided her stern gaze. 

In his excitement to ride the Ratcatcher, he’d forgotten that he wasn’t supposed to be riding in the prop at all, even if Dad allowed it. 

“Morgana! What a pleasure to see you again!” Dad exclaimed rather loudly, turning off the Ratcatcher with a click of his keys. “Have I ever told you how that shade of scarlet brings out your eyes?” 

Auntie scowled at him. “Save it, Jim!” she snapped, and Dad winced at her tone. “That sort of flattery may work on my character, but it gets you nowhere with me! Especially when you take your son for a joyride in a dangerous contraption when he still needs a booster seat to ride in a normal car!” 

“Dangerous? Morgana, he’s the son of Darkwing Duck! He has to get dangerous sometime! Can’t live his life hiding in the comfort of his own room, you know!” Dad protested. 

Hiding in my bedroom for the rest of my life doesn’t sound so bad…at least I’ll have my toys. 

Drake wasn’t keen on going back to school where he’d have to see Brandon Barker, Molly Clearwater, and his classmates who’d just make fun of him. 

“For the last time, my name is Katherine! Why is it so hard to remember your coworkers’ names when we aren’t filming?” Auntie shouted. 

“For your information, I have an excellent memory. I’ve never forgotten a line, action, or name in my career!” Dad scowled, tossing his keys at Uncle Tino, who jumped when it hit him in the chest and fell to the ground. “Hey Bushroot, hang those up for me, will ya?” 

Uncle Tino sighed and picked up the keys, his purple Bushroot wig falling off his head as he stood up. Unlike Auntie, he never argued with Dad unless the cameras were on. He hung the keys on a hook by the door, clearly not happy about being ordered around but not protesting about it either. 

Drake climbed out of the sidecar, his feet dangling in the air as he hung onto the frame by his fingertips. Taking a deep breath, he let go of the sidecar, yelping when he made a less-than-graceful landing and fell onto his bottom. 

“Drake!” Auntie was at his side instantly. She couldn’t bend all the way down, the material of her dress too stiff for that, but she offered him a hand. “Are you alright, sweetie?” 

Drake took her hand, smiling as she pulled him to his feet. Her touch was always soft, though nobody who only saw her on their TV screens would know that. 

“Bruised, but triumphant!” Drake proclaimed so he wouldn’t worry her, quickly rubbing his sore bottom when she wasn’t looking. It still ached, but she didn’t need to know. 

Darkwing Duck always got back up, no matter what misfortune he encountered. So Drake would too. 

“That’s the spirit, kid,” Dad grinned, ruffling the feathers on Drake’s head. 

Drake held himself high at his praise, his heart soaring far beyond the clouds. Auntie gave him a disapproving look, though Drake couldn’t stop his preening. 

“Don’t encourage him,” Auntie said with a click of her tongue. “He doesn’t need to learn your habit of taking unnecessary risks.” 

Dad rolled his eyes. “He’s tougher than he looks. You don’t need to coddle him every time he gets a paper cut.” 

“I’m showing concern, something that you apparently lack-” 

“He’s seven. He can handle himself just-” 

“This is exactly why some parents don’t let kids watch your show! You perform all these dangerous stunts for impressionable kids, including your own son!” 

“Not my fault some people have poor taste…” 

“Only thing in poor taste is your ego and unrepentant attitude!” 

Drake pressed his hands against his head as Auntie and Dad raised their voices. He didn’t like it when they argued, which happened a lot. He wished they’d just get along. 

A hand rested on his shoulder. Drake turned and smiled at Uncle Tino, whose feathers were still caked with green, plant-like makeup from his Bushroot scenes. 

“How was school, Drake?” Uncle Tino asked. His voice was often quiet, a lot quieter than anyone else Drake had ever met, but Drake found it soothing to talk to him whenever everyone else became too loud. “Your presentation go well?” 

Drake’s smile faded as he scuffed the ground with his foot. “Um…I tried to use those public speaking tips you and Uncle Bud gave me, but Brandon still laughed.” 

Uncle Tino gave him a sympathetic look. He understood how mean some kids in school could be, and Drake appreciated that. 

“I kept talking though!” Drake said quickly, not wanting Uncle Tino to think he’d given up. “And I didn’t cry in front of everyone this time! Mrs. Crane said I got a little off-topic, but I also did better!” 

Uncle Tino smiled. “If you got a compliment from your teacher, your presentation must’ve been really something. Makes me wish I could’ve been there instead of filming this greenhouse scene. All that pollen floating around isn’t good for anyone’s beak. Achoo!” 

Even his sneeze was quieter than most. 

“I really need to take my allergy pills…” he muttered, picking up the wig he’d dropped earlier. “Think I’m gonna head to the break room now.” 

“Break room? Is Uncle Mike there? Can I go with you?” Drake asked, pulling out his Quackerjack toy. “Dad took me to Hamburger Hippo and I got Quackerjack with my meal! I think he’ll find it funny!” 

Dad didn’t notice the disapproving look that Uncle Tino gave him. 

“Uncle Tino?” Drake asked, confused by his lack of response. “Uncle Mike’s gonna find it funny, right?” 

“Huh?” Uncle Tino said, shaken out of his daze. “Oh, he’ll get a kick out of this for sure. And the rest of us will just have to put up with his bragging.” 

That didn’t make any sense. Uncle Mike had the most toys modeled after him out of the Fearsome Four, but nobody else besides Dad minded all that much. Drake wondered if Uncle Tino was just a little jealous. 

“So why are you looking at Dad all weird then?” he asked. 

Uncle Tino sighed. “Because both of you eat at Hamburger Hippo too much. All that grease isn’t healthy for you.” 

“We don’t eat at Hamburger Hippo too much!” Drake protested. “We only ate there today, yesterday, Monday, and last week when Uncle Dan blew up the fridge…do you think we’re still allowed back after Dad argued with the policeman? One of the workers told us to leave and everyone was staring.” 

Silence fell in the garage. Dad groaned and ran a hand down his face. Too late, Drake realized that maybe he should’ve kept his long beak shut. 

“You. Did. What?” Auntie demanded as she towered over Dad, glaring at him while she waited for an explanation. 

Dad tugged at his collar with a nervous laugh. “Uh…well, you see, it’s a funny story actually-”

Uncle Tino grabbed Drake’s hand, ushering him out of the garage as Auntie’s furious voice shook the walls.  

o-o-o-o-o

“Ha! Minijack’s got my colors and bells in all the right places! And you thought this little promotional gig with Hamburger Hippo would fail!” Uncle Mike proclaimed as he paraded around the break room, the little Quackerjack toy held proudly in his hands. 

He’d been beside himself with joy ever since Drake showed him the little model of Quackerjack. Together, they’d lovingly nicknamed him Minijack. 

The bells on his jester hat jangled loudly, and Drake saw a nerve pop in Uncle Dan’s forehead when a long blue and red tendril on the enormous hat smacked him in the face, causing him to drop his screwdriver. 

“Nuts and bolts, Michael! Would you cut that out?” Uncle Dan snapped, huddled protectively over the coffee machine he was trying to fix. “I’m trying to create Instacoffee here!” 

“Ooooh, neato! What’s Instacoffee?” Uncle Mike asked in an exaggerated falsetto voice. Though he only wore a colorful polka-dotted shirt and comically oversized jester hat instead of his full Quackerjack costume, he produced Mr. Banana Brain from somewhere within his shirt and passed Minijack back to Drake. 

Uncle Dan lifted his hands in the air in a grandiose display. “Behold, the latest technological revolution in coffeemaking-” 

“Does it make banana smoothies too?” 

“-no longer shall our minds wait for precious caffeine like sleep-deprived zombies…” 

“Eek! Zombies? They’re going to eat my brain! Ahhhhhh!” Mr. Banana Brain flailed his floppy arms, slapping Uncle Dan in the shoulder several times. 

Uncle Dan growled, shoving his long nose into Mr. Banana Brain’s toothy grin. 

“I’d like to make it through my spiel without interruption, if you don’t mind! Why don’t you try being a proper banana for once and split?” he snapped. 

Mr. Banana Brain gasped, one hand held over his chest in dramatic fashion. 

“Dem’s fightin’ words, you overloaded weasel!” Uncle Mike shouted, giving Mr. Banana Brain a G.I Jay figurine to hold in his fist, its laser weapon extended. 

“Weasel? I’m a rat, clownface!” 

With a bellow, Uncle Dan grabbed Mr. Banana Brain and tried to yank him away from Uncle Mike. They fell to the floor, rolling underneath the table and causing the plates to clatter as they collided with the leg. 

Uncle Dan splayed his fingers like he was zapping Uncle Mike with several supercharged lightning bolts, while Uncle Mike hit him in the face with Mr. Banana Brain. 

It was nice of them to improv a silly scene, but Drake didn’t feel any better. Nor did he feel like joining in with Minijack all that much. He didn’t have the energy to make up a character and voice for Minijack as he did with his other toys either. 

Was Auntie still mad? He wished he hadn’t gotten Dad in trouble with her, or that they could learn to get along somehow. It worried him when they argued. Couldn’t they see he loved both of them?  

The clock on the wall chimed softly, the little hand pointing to seven. The studio would be emptying out soon. Most of the actors would be heading back to their trailers, or going home. 

If Dad’s going to jail, is someone gonna stay with me? They won’t leave me alone, right?

He didn’t want to be left behind. 

There was a soft knock on the door, startling Drake out of his thoughts. He heard voices on the other side, speaking in hushed, worried whispers. 

“-have to break the news gently, Bud…” 

“Tino, I don’t see the point in sugarcoating this. All of you avoid explaining hard topics to him. It’s not healthy.” 

Uncle Bud’s tone dripped with disapproval. Drake’s heart sank. 

“Darkwing Duck is his hero. It’s not our place to-”  

“Darkwing Duck is only a character played by the very real Jim Starling, whose son thinks the world of him, even if he is a poor excuse of a role model.” 

The door opened. 

Drake fidgeted in his chair as Uncle Tino and Uncle Bud walked in. Uncle Tino gave Drake a smile that was probably meant to be reassuring, but only made him more nervous. By contrast, Uncle Bud was calmer, simply sitting down in the chair next to Drake. 

Uncle Dan and Uncle Mike continued to wrestle on the floor, screaming electricity and toy based puns at each other when they tripped Uncle Tino, who fell on top of them with a yelp and brought their roughhousing to an abrupt end. 

“Alright, that’s enough, both of you,” Uncle Bud said, fixing both of them with a look that said calm down or else. “Let me talk to Drake without you acting like clowns.” 

Uncle Mike pointed to his jester hat. “That’s kinda my whole gimmick, buddy.” 

“Just trying to make the kid laugh a bit. Looked like he could use one,” Uncle Dan said, crawling out from underneath Uncle Tino’s arm. 

Uncle Tino said something that nobody could make out since he was lying facedown, beak smushed to the floor. 

With a resigned sigh, Uncle Bud turned to Drake. He was the oldest of the Fearsome Four, and unlike the others, he didn’t really act like his villainous persona, the Liquidator,  off-camera. 

But it was probably hard to talk like he was narrating a commercial all the time, so Drake couldn’t blame him there. 

Uncle Bud gave him that ‘I’m going to talk about your dad and it’s probably gonna hurt your feelings' look. Drake had seen plenty of grownups give him that same pitying glance. 

It always hurt worse when it was the cast of Darkwing Duck, the ones who worked with, ate with, and practically lived with him and Dad. 

They were family, weren’t they? But they didn’t like Dad much. 

Nobody did. 

Maybe they thought he was too young to really notice. Maybe they thought he needed to be protected from the truth. But Drake knew. He could see it in their eyes, hear it in their strange ‘not in front of the kid’ voices. 

“Dad’s going to jail, isn’t he?” Drake whispered. 

Nobody spoke, and nobody except Uncle Bud would look him in the eye. Even Uncle Mike didn’t try to lighten the mood with a joke. 

Uncle Bud leaned over, resting his hand on Drake’s shoulder. It didn’t make him feel better. 

“We don’t know for sure yet,” he admitted. “From my understanding, the officer let your dad off easy. Instead of going to jail, he just has to pay some money to the city. Unfortunately, your dad has made his intention of not paying the fine, driving to the police station, and stuffing his speeding ticket down someone’s beak very clear.” 

Uncle Mike crossed his arms. “I say let him try it. If he gets arrested, that’s his own fault.” 

Drake stared at him, wide-eyed from his harsh words. Nobody else seemed to find his remark funny either.  

Uncle Dan elbowed Uncle Mike in the ribs, who squawked in surprise. 

“...so why won’t he give them money if that’ll keep him out of jail?” Drake asked quietly. 

Nobody answered his question. His uncles only looked at each other in uncertainty. Uncle Bud shook his head, resigned that he didn’t have an answer for Drake. 

“Afraid none of us know what thoughts go through his head,” he sighed. 

“Except for smooching the vanity mirror in his mind,” Uncle Dan snickered, before Uncle Mike drove his elbow into his stomach. He immediately doubled over in pain. 

“Revenge is a dish best served cold.” Uncle Mike smirked in satisfaction.

“Neither of you are helping,” Uncle Tino sighed. 

Drake closed his eyes, avoiding his uncles’ pitying glances. He was tired of every grownup looking at him like that. 

I wish somebody would just…understand for once. Dad is a hero, even if nobody else gets it. 

The phone began to ring, and Drake opened his eyes, alarmed by the sudden noise. 

“I’ll get it,” Uncle Tino said. He walked over to the counter and picked up the phone. “Hel-ahhh!” 

He shrieked and dropped the phone like he’d been burned.

“-no, you stay put, and don’t you dare walk out that door, Jim!” 

Auntie’s voice crackled over the speaker, static blurring her words together. Dad responded, loud and aggressive, though he sounded like he was too far from the phone for anyone to make out what he was saying. 

Uncle Bud quickly stood up, grabbing the dropped phone while Uncle Tino rubbed the side of his head with a pained expression. 

“What’s going on over there, Katherine?” he asked gruffly. 

Drake couldn’t fully hear Auntie’s reply, but her tone was a mix of annoyance and anger. Uncle Bud listened to her rant without speaking, pinching the fur between his eyes. 

“I’m getting too old to play peacemaker between you and Jim,” he said, before pausing to listen to whatever was going on at the other end of the line. “I can’t influence his behavior any better than you can…fine, fine, I’ll try to talk him down, but I can’t promise that he’ll listen to me. Alright. I’ll try to intercept him in the parking lot.” 

He hung up, leaning against the counter for a moment before turning around. Drake didn’t know what to make of the expression on his face. Like he already knew that Dad wouldn’t listen to him no matter what he said.

“He’s leaving for the police station now,” he said quietly. “Katherine couldn’t stop him, so she asked me for help. I’ll do my best, but I can’t guarantee anything.” 

Drake looked away. He felt Uncle Tino’s hand on his shoulder, but it didn’t provide much comfort.

Nobody was confident in their ability to stop his dad. They were all convinced he’d be thrown in jail the moment he set foot in the police station, and there was nothing they could do about it. 

Drake wasn’t angry at them. They did their best. 

At least they tried. 

If the grown-ups aren’t able to do anything, then what can I do? I can’t even face my classmates without being scared. 

He glanced at the heroic pose Darkwing Duck struck on the front of his backpack. Darkwing was always brave, always certain, always fighting for what was right even when he got beaten down time and time again. 

He could be electrocuted, smashed by anvils, tied to an anchor and dropped into the sea, or poisoned with only twenty-four hours to live, but Darkwing Duck would never, ever give up even if everyone already had. Even if the world told him he can’t save the day. 

Even if he was just a small duckling who was still scared of thunder. 

What if…I can do something? I’m just a kid, but….

He reached into his backpack and pulled out his homework folder. 

“Uncle Bud?” Drake called, holding his folder tightly to his chest as he hurried to the older dog’s side. Uncle Bud paused as he opened the door, turning to Drake with his eyebrows raised in surprise. 

Deep breath, Drake, he inhaled quickly, his heart beating so fast that it made him dizzy. Now say it. I’m going with you, and you can’t stop me. 

But the words that came out of his beak were a jumbled, incoherent mess. Everyone stared, and Drake tried not to cower at their attention. 

“One more time, Drake. Just slow down and breathe,” Uncle Bud advised him. If he was annoyed that Drake was delaying him, he hid it well. 

So Drake took a deep breath once more. 

Just say it. You can tell them. 

“I…I have something important to tell Dad. Please, can I go with you?” he asked. His voice wasn’t as strong or as convincing as he would’ve liked. 

Uncle Bud didn’t respond right away. He didn’t seem like he was going to say no, but he probably didn’t want to say yes either. Drake’s fingers nervously dug into his folder. 

“...I think you should take him with you, Bud,” Uncle Tino was the first to speak up. 

Drake hadn’t expected anyone to speak in his favor, and he gave him a grateful smile. But Uncle Tino’s response was met with an angry shout from Uncle Mike. 

“Are you insane?” he snapped. “Bringing the kid’s not gonna soften Jim! He’s already made up his mind. I say let him reap the consequences.” 

Uncle Dan crossed his arms. “Agreed. You don’t know what he’ll say. He’ll just hurt Drake’s feelings and drive off.” 

They weren’t wrong. Dad might not listen to him either. 

But Darkwing Duck was not the sort of avian who played it safe. He was always ready to take risks on headfirst, even if the situation wasn’t in his favor. 

I’m going to be like Darkwing. I have to take a chance. 

“I still want to talk to him,” Drake declared. 

“This is something he wants to do for himself,” Uncle Tino explained to Uncle Mike and Uncle Dan, who still shook their heads in disapproval. “We shouldn’t get in the way.” 

Drake glanced up at Uncle Bud, who gestured to the open door. 

“Then let’s go,” he said, allowing Drake to take the lead. 

It’s okay, Dad. I won’t let you go to jail. 

o-o-o-o

“Damn it, where did I put those stupid keys?” Dad grumbled, fumbling around in the pockets of his blazer. He tossed an old gum wrapper and several pennies to the ground, kicking them under his car in annoyance. 

He’d taken off his hat, mask, and cape, leaving him only in his turtleneck and unbuttoned blazer. The feathers on top of his head were messy from being under his hat, his cheek feathers sticking out in every direction. 

As Uncle Bud and Drake approached the handicapped space where Dad’s car was parked, Drake’s rush of bravery wore off. 

Dad’s scowl was set deep in his beak, and it only grew deeper when he spotted them. 

Drake hung back several steps behind Uncle Bud. He didn’t want to appear smaller than he already was, but Dad’s anger could be scary at times. 

“Mind your language, Jim,” Uncle Bud said gruffly. “The only things Drake should be repeating from you are Darkwing’s catchphrases.” 

Dad scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Oh, did Morgana tell you to bring my kid along to guilt trip me into staying? That’s low, even for the likes of you, Liquidator.” 

“Drake came of his own accord,” Uncle Bud replied. He didn’t raise his voice like the others tended to do. His tone was calm and even, and Drake understood why Auntie had asked him to speak to Dad before anyone else. “He said he has something very important to tell you.” 

He gently nudged Drake forward. Dad’s eyes flicked towards him, and Drake gulped, fighting the urge to run away. 

Be like Darkwing. 

Dad tapped his foot impatiently. Drake knew he needed to hurry and say his piece before Dad drove away. 

“I-I…um, a-are you handicapped, Dad?” 

Unable to make eye contact anymore, Drake’s gaze fell upon the blue handicapped sign, and the question slipped out before he could stop it. 

“How could I be Darkwing Duck if I were crippled?” Dad snapped, and Drake regretted opening his mouth. He reached into his pocket, finally pulling out his keys. “Is that your ‘very important thing’, Drake? Because I have places to be.” 

Drake hugged the folder to his chest, Dad’s words echoing inside his mind. There was a chance he’d be ignored, or that his beak would open and he wouldn’t say what he wanted the other person to hear.

It was okay. Darkwing didn’t always succeed in his first attempt to catch a villain.  

But it stung. Not even Dad wanted to hear him out. 

Dad threw open the car door, and it slammed against the car’s exterior with a resounding bang. He climbed inside, but before he could shut it, Uncle Bud grabbed the handle and held the door out of reach so that Dad would have to lean out to close it. 

“I’m giving that officer a piece of my mind for publicly humiliating me,” Dad growled. “So get out of my way, Liquidator.” 

Uncle Bud narrowed his eyes, not even flinching when Dad honked the horn to try and scare him off. 

“I’m not stopping you,” he said. “I’m only keeping you here long enough so your son can accomplish what he came here for.”  

He turned and gave Drake an encouraging nod. 

With shaking fingers, Drake reached into his folder and pulled out the drawing of Darkwing Duck. 

It wasn’t a perfect likeness. The beak was colored a shade lighter than it should’ve been, a golden button on the blazer was missing, and one leg was longer than the other. 

But if Dad was going to jail, then Drake hoped he’d be able to brighten his cell wall with the drawing. Jail cells always looked so cold and colorless on TV. 

“You can have this. I drew it in class,” Drake said timidly, thrusting his art into Dad’s hands. He stared down at the drawing with a raised eyebrow. Though Drake wasn’t sure if Dad liked or disliked it, he knew he had to keep going. “Even if you’re going to jail like everyone says…you’ll still be my hero, Dad.” 

Dad looked up with a startled expression. His beak fell open in shock, and though he tried to speak, he could only manage a shocked, wordless mumble.

It was strange to see him so speechless. 

Drake and Uncle Bud stepped back from the car. Though Uncle Bud no longer held onto the handle, Dad didn’t rush to close the door. He carefully brushed away a few stray crayon rubbings and tugged at the collar of his turtleneck nervously. 

One foot slid out of the car. 

Dad’s getting out! He’s not going to the police station after all! 

Drake bounced on his toes with excitement, only stopping when Uncle Bud gripped his shoulder. 

Then Dad shut the door, backing up the car so fast that he hit the curb on the opposite end of the lot. 

And he was gone, leaving only tire markings burned into the road. 

Tears formed in the corners of Drake’s eyes, but he wouldn’t let them fall. Darkwing Duck never cried. So Drake wouldn’t either. He clung to Uncle Bud’s leg, trying to dry his tears on the fabric of his pants. 

“I’m sorry,” Uncle Bud said quietly. His face was solemn as he rested a hand on Drake’s head. “I was convinced he’d listen for once too.” 

“It’s okay…” Drake whispered. He did his best not to sniffle.

“Katherine offered to take you for the night. If anything happens, she’ll be the first one they’ll call.” 

Then Uncle Bud took Drake’s hand, leading him away from the parking lot. 

But Drake could only stare at the empty space where Dad’s car used to be. 

o-o-o-o

It was ten, an hour past his bedtime when he stayed at Auntie’s house. An instrumental of the Darkwing Duck theme played on the television, marking the episode’s end. Auntie let him watch four episodes back to back, and he felt her worried glances burn into him when he didn’t try to imitate the superhero’s moves or quote his witty puns and intro speeches. 

He only sat motionless on the couch, eyes glued to the screen as the intro to a strange cartoon he’d never seen before played. 

The screen went black, the sound of static briefly filling the air. Startled, Drake’s attention snapped to Auntie. He hadn’t heard her enter the room.  

“You’re too young for this show, Drake,” she said, glancing at the TV with distaste. “And your extra hour is up. It’s time for bed.” 

“But I’m not sleepy!” Drake protested. His beak parted in a wide yawn, and he clapped a hand over it. Auntie gave him a knowing look, and Drake sank against the couch cushions, caught in his own lie. “And Dad’s not back either…are you sure you haven’t heard anything?” 

The phone only rang once tonight. Drake had been so excited to hear the ring that he’d ignored Darkwing’s climactic battle with Megavolt in the thunderstorm, but he was only met with disappointment when the caller was just trying to sell insurance, whatever that was. 

Auntie lifted the skirt of her nightgown and sat on the couch, a resigned sigh escaping her. She pushed her loose hair away from her face, a far cry from the elegant beehive she wore as Morgana. 

“I promise I’ll tell you if anything comes up,” she said. She placed a heart shaped cushion against her leg and patted it with a sad smile. Slowly, Drake crawled over to her and fell against the cushion. She wrapped her arm around his shoulders. “Unfortunately, your father could be doing any number of things right now even if he isn’t sitting in the middle of a cell.” 

Her beak pursed together, like she was disgusted by what Dad could possibly be doing at ten at night. 

“Like protecting St. Canard from bad guys in real life?” Drake asked. 

He could understand why Dad would be out so late then. It was a full moon tonight, and criminals always crawled out of the shadows by the hundreds to commit all sorts of heinous acts in the silver moonlight. 

Dad hadn’t tried to call them. It was probably for the best, if he was surrounded by villains and didn’t want to run the risk of an unsavory character learning about his secret identity and using his loved ones against him. 

But Auntie only sighed, a faraway look in her eyes. 

“I don’t think Jim would act that…reckless,” Auntie said. Upon hearing the pause in her words, Drake tilted his head up at her. She let out a resigned sigh. “Maybe he would be that reckless.”

Sometimes Auntie and Dad would get along. They’d eat and drink together in between takes. But most of the time, they argued with raised voices and wild, frantic gestures, and everyone would be caught in their anger.

Drake could never decide if they were friends or enemies. He wasn’t sure if anyone else knew either. And depending on the episode, Darkwing could be dodging magic bolts from Morgana or kissing her on the rooftop. 

He always covered his eyes during the kissing scenes. They were kinda gross. 

“Auntie, do you like Dad?” Drake asked. Auntie stiffened, her nails digging into the fabric of the cushion. Drake hastily backtracked at the offended look she gave him. “I mean, as a hero?” 

“A hero,” Auntie repeated in disbelief. She must’ve thought Drake was asking something entirely different. 

Or maybe she didn’t think Dad was a hero either. Nobody did. 

“Darkwing Duck’s not real, you dork!” 

“You were supposed to talk about a hero in your life. Not one on a silly TV show.”

“Is he at all aware that law enforcement does not require the help of reckless, gloryhounding vigilantes to arrest criminals, unlike your ridiculous show?” 

“Darkwing Duck is only a character played by the very real Jim Starling, whose son thinks the world of him, even if he is a poor excuse of a role model.” 

Drake pushed himself onto his knees as he waited for Auntie’s answer. 

“He’s certainly passionate about his job,” she admitted. “I can’t deny that.” 

Darkwing Duck was committed to his mission against evil. Nothing could sway him off the path of justice and righteousness! 

Except for maybe Morgana, but she sometimes used love spells so that didn’t count.

But there was more to Darkwing than just punching bad guys. It seemed that was the only thing people saw when they thought of the Masked Mallard. 

“That’s not the answer you were hoping for, was it?” Auntie asked. 

“Well, you’re right about Darkwing being passionate, but….” Drake trailed off as he thought about why he admired Darkwing. 

It wasn’t just his cool fashion sense, or his awesome Quack Fu moves. Nor was it about the witty one-liners or boasts about his skills. 

As cool as Darkwing was, he didn’t always capture the villain on the first try. He’d often meet someone with powers he didn’t know how to combat, and he’d have to develop a fighting style to overcome them. Or someone would deliberately plant a false lead, and Darkwing would have to separate the lies from the truth. 

He could be tied to a cinderblock in the ocean, crushed, or have his memories erased. The villains could gang up on him and stomp on his back until his spine broke, but Darkwing would never give in. No matter how much physical pain he had, he would fight until the battle was won. 

“He always gets back up too, even if it looks hopeless,” Drake said. “Even if nobody else is on his side. Even if…I’m the only one in the whole world who sees that.” 

He drew his knees up to his chest. Sometimes, it felt like he and Dad were the only ones who truly understood Darkwing Duck. 

It was lonely. 

“The world is a big place, Drake,” Auntie said after a few minutes of silence. “You might not know them at the moment, but I believe that somewhere out there, you’ll find someone who shares those feelings too.” 

Despite his turmoil, Drake managed to smile back. 

And someday, I just might find them. So I’ve got to hang on a bit longer.

Then Drake noticed the stack of tarot cards she’d laid out on the coffee table. The top one displayed the image of a jester and his juggling balls.  

“Did your cards tell you that?” he asked. 

“No, but my crystal ball did,” Auntie replied. “Oh, what’s this? I see something else reflected in it…” 

She pulled a decorative crystal ball from her coffee table into her lap, waving her hands around the glass. Drake peered at himself on the reflective surface. He couldn’t help but laugh when his lower bill appeared much longer than the top half. The crystal ball lit up, casting a bright light into the shadows of the living room.

“What do you see?” Drake asked eagerly. 

“I see…a set of pillows, blankets, a teddy bear with a purple mask, all lying on top of a twin-sized mattress, underneath a ceiling full of glow-in-the-dark stars….” Auntie narrated dramatically. “Yes, yes, it’s all very clear now…” 

“What?” Drake tried to see all the things she was describing, but he couldn’t make out any images in the light. 

He thought he could at least make out the teddy bear, but the light suddenly shut off before he knew for sure. 

“The crystal ball predicts that you’ll be in bed in the near future!” Auntie declared with a final flourish of her arms.

Drake pouted, and although he was willing to give up a week’s worth of dessert to stay up a little longer, he decided it wasn’t worth arguing about. Auntie had promised to wake him up if something happened, so he decided to trust her word. 

The light from the crystal ball vanished. Drake knew about the off switch on the bottom, but he had fun pretending it was really magic. 

“G’night,” Drake murmured, his beak opening in a wide yawn. 

He climbed off the couch, his feet scrabbling at the air briefly before he touched solid ground. His landing wasn’t graceful either, and he yelped when the sharp edge of the coffee table jabbed the back of his knee.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have Darkwing Duck’s perfect night vision. 

“Are you okay?” Auntie asked in concern. 

Drake quickly shook off the pain. “Of course! A coffee table can’t stop me!” he proclaimed. But he forgot to look where he was going, and as he stepped out into the hallway, he tripped over an umbrella stand and landed flat on his face. “Ow… your umbrella stand may have won this fight, but-” 

The doorbell rang before he could finish his sentence. Startled by the sudden noise, Drake shot to his feet and crashed into the umbrella stand again, falling onto his back. His elbow hit the floor, throbbing with pain.   

Auntie knelt in concern. “Drake, are you-” 

A series of loud, earsplitting knocks interrupted her before she could finish. 

Drake flinched and stared at the door, wide-eyed with sudden fear. 

“Auntie? A-are we being robbed?” he whispered. 

Because of St. Canard’s never-ending swarm of criminals, safety was drilled into every kid’s mind the moment they could walk. 

Don’t talk to strangers, use the buddy system, say no to drugs, lock all doors and windows at night….

“I-I’ll knock them out for you, Auntie…” But Drake couldn’t keep the stammer out of his voice. 

He wanted to sound cool, confident, brave. Darkwing Duck wouldn’t cower in fear from a common robber. He’d open the door and swiftly knock them out with a karate chop to the head before they could blink. 

But Auntie shook her head firmly. 

“This is real life, Drake,” Auntie said, keeping her voice low. She picked up her fallen umbrella. “Not the time to play Darkwing Duck. If you put yourself in unnecessary danger, I will ground you until you’re old enough to pay your own bills. Understand?” 

Drake nodded quickly. He knew better than to argue with Auntie. 

There was a brief moment of silence before the knocking began anew, like whoever was on the other side had to take a break from banging on the door.

“I’ll handle our unwanted guest,” Auntie said, brandishing her umbrella. “In the meantime, I want you to hide, and if you can, run to the neighbor’s house and call the police.” 

She helped Drake to his feet, gently pushing him behind the wall to hide him from view.  

What if they overpower her? 

Stricken with fear, Drake leaned against the wall and waited with bated breath as Auntie slowly unlocked the door, umbrella held at the ready. He felt bad for disobeying, but what if she needed him to jump in? 

What if Auntie got hurt and could no longer defend herself? He couldn’t just leave her alone! 

Auntie’s hand was on the doorknob. She paused, took a deep breath, and threw the door open. 

“About time you opened up, Morgana! I’ve been waiting forev-” 

Auntie shrieked, her war cry echoing off the walls, and smashed her umbrella against the intruder’s head. With a startled yelp, the would-be robber collapsed onto his knees. 

“Owww….” he groaned. He swayed back and forth, barely catching himself in time before his head hit the brick porch. 

Auntie flicked the light switch beside the door. The lantern mounted to the outside wall flared to life, illuminating several fluttering moths. 

Drake gasped, his hands flying to his beak to stifle the noise so Auntie wouldn’t turn around and find out he’d disobeyed her. 

This was no robber! 

Dad came back! He didn’t get thrown in jail after all!

“Is that how you greet everyone who knocks on your door?” Dad snapped, a purple bruise blossoming underneath the ivory feathers of his head. 

Auntie threw down her umbrella, and it landed on the floor with a sharp clatter. “Knocking? You were trying to break my door like a madman!” she yelled. “What was I supposed to think?”

“Let me see…how about ‘oh my goodness, I’m so sorry for hitting you over the head with an umbrella, Jim! Why don’t you come inside so I can make that up to you?’” Dad did his best impression of Auntie’s voice. 

“I don’t sound anything like that!” Auntie shouted, her hand braced on the doorknob. She was barely holding herself back from slamming the door in his face. “And what makes you think I’ll trust you in my house after the mess you made last time?” 

There was a pause as Dad and Auntie stared each other down, the only sound coming from the crickets chirping outside. 

Then Dad stood up, but his posture seemed…different. Less confident and dramatic. 

More…confused than anything. 

It took Auntie by surprise too. 

“Wait, Morg-I mean, Katherine,” he stammered, and if Drake wasn’t watching their conversation right now, he might’ve believed Dad was a completely different duck, or replaced with an imposter. “Is Drake here? I’ve been to Liquidator’s and Bushroot’s place, and I didn’t even bother with Quackerjack, doubt that clown can keep a kid alive for more than five seconds…but Liquidator said he was with you. Anyway, I…I need to see him.” 

He trailed off for a moment, then mumbled a very forced please. 

Auntie just stared at him. 

“Why?” she asked. 

The happiness that Drake felt upon seeing Dad vanished. He didn’t have handcuffs or a ball and chain on his ankle, but Drake wondered if the police were impatiently waiting on the street as they allowed Dad to say goodbye before they locked him up for a long time. 

“He’s my son, Katherine! I don’t have to explain my reasons to you!” Dad scowled, covering his long bill when Auntie put a hand on her hip in displeasure. He sighed, shoving his clenched fist into his pocket and looking away in embarrassment. “Look, I didn’t go to the police station. Changed my mind last minute. Figured zebra stripes weren’t really my style. Besides… something more important came up.” 

He reached into the folds of his blazer and brought out a picture frame. 

A drawing of Darkwing Duck laid within the glass. 

Drake’s eyes widened. 

My drawing…he framed it? 

“So is he still awake?” Dad asked. “Figured I owe him an explana-” 

Unable to keep himself hidden anymore, Drake rushed past Auntie and launched himself into Dad’s chest. Dad yelped as he lost his balance and fell onto his bottom a second time, taking Drake with him. 

“Ow…watch the ribs, kid! Still got some bruises from my last stunt,” Dad coughed, his voice strained. Drake quickly removed his hands and sat up. The picture frame laid face down on the bricks. Dad quickly flipped it over and let out a sigh of relief when the glass remained intact. 

Auntie sighed, but Drake could see a tiny, fond smile on her beak. He turned back to Dad, who was rubbing his chest to relieve the lingering pain. 

“Hey, Dad?” Drake said, his voice tiny. “I knew you wouldn’t go to jail.” 

Dad let out a raspy laugh, using Drake’s shoulder as leverage to haul himself back to his feet. 

“Ha! The great Darkwing Duck, a common jailbird?” Dad chuckled. “They were all wrong about that. Buying a frame for your interpretation of my heroic self was a much better use of my time. Glad you never doubted me once, sport. At least I raised you with sense.” 

He shot a smug look at Auntie, who smacked the umbrella against the palm of her hand like she was struggling not to bean him over the head again. 

“Does this mean you’re actually planning to pay for your speeding ticket like a good, law-abiding citizen?” she asked.   

Dad rolled his eyes and flicked his hand dismissively. “Eh, I’ll take it up with my lawyer. We’ll just contest it in court later.” 

Auntie glared at him. 

“What?” Dad protested with a frown. “That’s a perfectly legal course of action! I don’t have to be a vigilante against the system all the time.” 

Drake had no idea what any of that meant, but if that wasn’t breaking the law, then it was good enough for him. He smiled and threw his arms around Dad’s waist, making sure to avoid his bruises. 

“When I’m bigger, I’m gonna be a hero just like you!” he declared. 

Dad blinked down at him, his beak falling open in shock. Then he ruffled the feathery tuft on Drake’s head. “Heh…that’s probably gonna take a while, but I’ll root for ya, kiddo.” 

“That’ll be the day….” Auntie murmured. 

Dad stuck his tongue out at her. Drake only tightened his hug, never wanting to let go. 

I don’t care what everyone else says. Dad is always gonna be my hero. That’s never gonna change. 

End AN: In this AU, Drake was conceived as a one-night stand between Starling and some random girl who let Starling keep the egg. The bio mom isn’t a factor here basically in the same way Huey, Dewey, and Louie’s bio father isn’t important in the show. Starling really only kept the egg to avoid bad publicity, but he does come to care about Drake, even though he’s a menace to everyone else. 

Starling can’t remember his coworkers’ actual names and calls them by the characters they play. 

Drake gets shuffled around between the cast members of Darkwing Duck, depending on who's available to take him. Jim Starling is a busy guy, and I really don’t trust him to keep a child alive to adulthood on his own. While Drake does consider them all family, sometimes he wishes he didn’t have to keep track of who's picking him from school, or whose house he left his belongings at.  

My HC is that Darkwing Duck (the in-universe show) was criticized for Starling’s stunts being too imitable and dangerous for kids, and that some parents won’t allow their kids to watch the show at all because of Starling’s egocentric behavior.  

I like to think Starling’s car is either an Aston Martin (Martin being a type of bird, and the model famously associated with the James Bond series) or the Duckverse equivalent of a BMW because he has the personality of a BMW driver. 

Morgana (at least, the actress OC of her) originally wasn’t planned for this story, but her arguments and weird relationship with Starling made me extend her presence cause she was funny to write for. While she and Starling would portray a Batman-Catwoman-esque relationship on the show, but in reality they can’t stand each other and only grudgingly, surface-level try to be civil in front of Drake. 

Anyway, I probably spent a lot more time on this fic than I needed to but I hope you all enjoyed reading it! Also, stay tuned for the epilogue after this! 

[thejagermeister]

a list of fun things i noticed at bttf bway (including some "bloopers"):

in the mcfly kitchen, dave held up a beer can and lorraine glared at him like "no!!"

he also held up the jailbird joey cake for the audience to see (usually it just sits in the fridge)

when marty was in the parking lot alone saying "you know me, tardy marty" he did doc's little hands-out leg-lift thing

after taking out the plutonium canister, the box's lid kept popping back up and roger flailed with it for a bit before just letting it stay open

near the beginning of "gotta start somewhere," marty talked to one of the ensemble (aaron alcaraz's character) and then sat back on a bench, looking super happy and awestruck

at the barn, marty couldn't get the clocktower poster to unfold. it was a struggle

when george puts down his chocolate milk in the cafeteria, the lunch lady took a sip...

during 21st century, the blue "eyes" on will branner's light-up helmet were out

when lorraine was getting really close to marty in doc's lab, casey tripped and fell backwards. he was fine and got right back up, and said "doc just has a lot of crap everywhere"

after lorraine left, what ensued was the longest "this is heavy" "wait, what?" "what?" bit i have ever heard. it went on Forever

while doc and marty were looking at the model town, doc said "and if you blur your eyes it looks like santorini!" and casey said "WHAT?" then completely broke. he had his hand over his mouth for a couple seconds afterwards

at the diner before the storm, as goldie left, he started singing "gotta start somewhere." once he was outside, he turned back to stare in the window and sang some more

when the delorean appeared in town square, nick drake's character held up their guitar like they were going to Fight

and some biff & his guys specifics, because i predictably spent every second they were onstage staring at them:

slick wore the long sleeved versions of his shirts, which surprised me because i thought short sleeves were the "default," and they only used long sleeves when daryl tofa's tattoo coverup didn't work. aaron's other characters (like dave) still had short sleeves, so it wasn't a tattoo thing. i wonder why...

while they were at the door and george said "hi guys," 3-D did a half-hearted salute

when pulling in the lockers during the "go bulldogs!" song, 3-D was singing along but he looked incredibly bored

while biff and marty were facing off before "something about that boy," slick slapped 3-D like "hey look!!" and 3-D slapped back, leading to a silly little slap-fight between them

slick and 3-D kept running into biff and grabbing him. they even rubbed his back at one point

after biff's "i'll break him right in three!" and the goons' "three!?!?" 3-D looked down and started counting on his fingers, very concentrated

biff told them to "spread out" and they took it literally to spread out their arms. a teacher walked by and 3-D walked towards her menacingly

they seemed to realize the order wasn't literal and started silently arguing with each other while biff talked to lorraine

as the girls walked away, 3-D waved to them and seemed offended that they didn't wave back

[lucassantostoons]

Felix the Cat's Birthday Party Guest List

Mickey Mouse

Mickey Mouse

Minnie Mouse

Donald Duck

Daisy Duck

Goofy

Pluto

Clarabelle Cow

Ludwig Von Drake

Goof Troop

Max Goof

Pete

Peg Pete

PJ

Pistol Pete

Chip N Dale Rescue Rangers

Chip N Dale

Gadget Hackwrench

Monterey Jack

Zipper

The Three Caballeros

Panchito Romero Miguel Junipero Francisco Quintero Gonzales III

Jose Carioca

DuckTales (1987)

Scrooge McDuck

Huey Duck

Dewey Duck

Louie Duck

Webby Vanderquack

Bubba the cave duck

Bentina Beakley

Launchpad McQuack

Darkwing Duck

Drake Mallard / Darkwing Duck

Gosalyn Mallard

Looney Tunes

Bugs Bunny

Lola Bunny

Daffy Duck

Porky Pig

Petunia Pig

Sylvester J Pussycat

Granny

Tweety Bird

Tasmanian Devil

Wile E Coyote

Roadrunner

Marvin the Martian

K-9

Pepe Le Pew

Penelope

Speedy Gonzales 

Gossamer

Witch Hazel

Foghorn Leghorn

Elmer Fudd

Yosemite Sam

Mac Gopher

Tosh Gopher

Tiny Toon Adventures

Buster Bunny

Babs Bunny

Plucky Duck

Hamton J Pig

Furrball the Cat

Shirley The Loon

Fifi La Fume

Lil Sneezer

Gogo Dodo

Dizzy Devil

Calamity Coyote

Little Beeper

Arnold the Pit Bull

Byron Basset

Fowlmouth

Mary Melody

Bookworm

Concord Condor

Barry Marky

Marcia the Martian

Animaniacs

Yakko Warner

Wakko Warner

Dor Warner

Pinky and the Brain

The Godpigeon

The Girlfeathers

Pipsqueak

Slappy Squirrel

Skippy Squirrel

Rita

Runt

Mindy

Buttons

Freakazoid

Freakazoid

Tom & Jerry

Tom Cat

Jerry Mouse

Droopy Dog

Butch the Bulldog

Woody Woodpecker

Woody Woodpecker

Winnie Woodpecker

Knothead Woodpecker

Splinter Woodpecker

Chilly Willy

The Adventures of Rocky & Bullwinkle & Friends

Rocky the Flying Squirrel

Bullwinkle J. Moose

Mr. Peabody

Sherman

Betty Boop

Betty Boop

Bimbo the Dog

Bonkers

Bonkers D. Bobcat

Fall Apart Rabbit

Fawn Deer

Jitters A. Dog

Miranda Wright

Disney Princess Characters 

Snow White

Bashful

Happy

Grumpy

Sleepy

Sneezy

Dopey

Doc

Prince Charming

Cinderella

Gus

Jaq

Aurora

Still work in progress

[angelasscribbles]

A Fervid Fixation Chapter 2: Combustion

Series: A Fervid Fixation

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Riley x Drake

Rating: MA

Warnings for this chapter: Language, Violence

Word Count: 3,103

A/N: Okay, so definitely a three-shot because I didn't manage to wrap up anything here lol.

A/N2: This is not the first time the Tariq situation has been reimagined, it's not even the first time I've reimagined it. But it was important to this story arc. The fallout from this night pushes Drake to a desperate move.

My other stuff: Master List.

Applewood….

Drake stood outside Riley’s door at the Applewood estate, hesitating with his hand halfway to the door. He shifted from foot to foot as he tried to decide the right way to apologize.

He had been a dick the last time they’d spoken, and he wanted to make it right if he could. He had no idea how to explain to her why he had reacted the way he had.

He couldn’t just tell her the truth, that she made him crazy with frustration and desire. That she made him feel things he’d never felt before. That watching her with Liam and the other members of the court, any one of which could give her all the things that he couldn’t, made him feel inadequate, invisible, and irrelevant.

That he lay awake at night tormented by thoughts of her. That she haunted his dreams. That he was indifferent, or even hostile to her, because letting her see anything else threatened to bring everything crashing down on all of them. That every little crack in his armor was dangerous.

That he wanted her with a burning passion stronger than anything he’d ever experienced before, and he was terrified of the feeling. That he was scared of the churning emotions inside him, afraid of what he might be capable of when it came to her. That he was no longer sure where his own boundaries lay.

The truth was that Nick had just been a convenient scapegoat, a perfect target for all his rage and agony, a man in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The problem was that all that rage and agony was still there.

He couldn’t tell her any of that.

Just as he was about to think better of it and walk away, he heard a scream from inside the room.

He reacted without thought, throwing the door open and charging into the room.

There was Riley, in her underwear, arms crossed defensively across her body with Tariq pawing at her like a slobbering pug-faced bulldog.

He made it across the room in three long strides. He gave no warning. He ripped Tariq away from her and flung him across the room, sending him tumbling over a chair and thudding into the wall.

Drake hopped the overturned chair in one fluid motion before Tariq could regain his feet and dropped his body onto him, straddling him.

Tariq’s head turned from one side to the other in a futile attempt to avoid the blows Drake pelted down on him. His arms covered his head as he twisted to the side.

Tariq managed to buck Drake off as he slid his body to one side and flipped onto his stomach. He pushed up on all fours and started to scramble to his feet.

Drake lunged for him, grabbing him by the ankle and jerking his body back, sending his face crashing into the floor.

Tariq flipped onto his back and kicked at his attacker, catching Drake in the face.

“Mother fucker!” Drake yelled as the blow sent him careening backward. He recovered quickly but Tariq was already on his feet and sprinting for the door.

Drake propelled himself upright and gave chase. He launched himself at the fleeing man just as he made it through the door and into the hallway.

They both hit the ground and skidded across the carpet to crash into the far wall.

“Get…off….me!” Tariq grunted as he kicked at Drake again.

Drake sat back on his knees and drew his fist back but before he could swing, he found himself being pulled from Tariq’s body.

He struggled against the hands restraining him, his attention laser-focused on the man using the wall to pull himself upright.

“I want him arrested!” Tariq bellowed, “He assaulted me!”

“I’m gonna do more than assault you, you sorry mother fucker, let me go!” Drake jerked free and dove for Tariq.

He was intercepted by two guardsmen. “Settle down son!”

Drake blinked at the familiar voice and ceased his attempts to break free, “Bas? What are you doing here?”

“Saving your sorry ass from a murder conviction apparently,” Bastien quickly gave orders to secure the scene and keep everyone separated as he hauled Drake into an empty bedroom and plunked him unceremoniously into a chair, “Talk me, son. What the hell just happened?”

“I interrupted a fucking sexual assault, that’s what!”

“Is it your accusation that Duke Lambros was the perpetrator of said assault?”

“Is it my accusation? What the hell, Bas? It’s what happened!”

“Okay, okay, and where did this alleged assault occur?”

“Alleged? Fuck you, Bas!” Drake stood up abruptly, “Where’s Riley? I need to see her; I need to make sure she’s okay!”

Bastien put his body between Drake and the door, “That’s not possible right now.”

“Why not?”

“Because she���s being questioned right now. She’s a witness.”

“Witness? She’s the victim!”

“Okay, okay, we’ll get it all sorted out.”

“Who’s questioning her? Because the last thing she needs is another fucking man-“

“She’s with Mara, she’s fine. You need to worry about yourself right now, son.”

Drake blinked as a tiny sliver of self-preservation kicked in, “Myself? Why?”

“Having the head of the King’s Guard as your godfather definitely works in your favor, but my power only reaches so far. And I know Liam is your best friend, but still…”

“But still what?”

“You did assault a duke, a member of this court, here on a royal invitation!”

“I didn’t assault him!” Drake’s fingers pulled at his own hair, “I was defending Riley!”

“Well that’s the story he’s telling.”

“That’s not what happened! Ask Riley! She’ll tell you!” Drake’s arm flung out toward the door.

“We will, we are,” Bastien assured him, “you need to calm down right now. Don’t dig the hole any deeper.”

“Bas! You know me!” Drake paced away from his godfather, “You know I wouldn’t just attack a man for no fucking reason!”

“Not usually,” the older man agreed, “but you’ve been…. volatile lately. Want to tell me what that’s about?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Drake snapped.

Bastien opened his mouth but before he could speak the door opened and Liam entered the room, “What the hell is going on? I was about to go to bed when I got a call that there was an assault in the palace?”

“Yes! Riley was assaulted but I stopped it!” Drake hurried back across the room to where Liam and Bastien stood just inside the door, “Have you seen her? Is she okay?”

“I just came from her room, she’s fine, just a little shaken up from all the violence she witnessed.” Liam turned his head from Drake to Bastien, “I understand that Tariq is telling an entirely different story?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Bastien replied, “and that’s a bad thing for her because it’s her word against his and she’s a commoner and a foreigner.”

“I saw it happen!” Drake interjected, “I’m a corroborating witness!”

“No offense son, but your testimony doesn’t mean much right now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, it wouldn’t be hard to find witnesses to testify to your erratic behavior lately which makes you an unreliable witness at best!”

“Why are you acting like this is my fault? Like I’ve done something wrong? I was the good guy in this scenario!”

“I’m trying to help you, son!”

“How is this helping me?”

“You’ve assaulted two members of the nobility this week, Drake. Beaten both of them pretty badly too. I’m just trying to keep you out of a jail cell!” Bastien was reaching the end of his patience.

“Fuck you, Bas! You’re always taking their side!” Drake swung a hand toward the doorway, his gesture meant to convey the entirety of the nobility, “You don’t give a rat’s ass about me!”

“You know that’s not true, I have always-“

“You have always tried to play dad to Sav and me because you have a thing for our mother. Don’t think we don’t see that!”

“Okay, lash out at me if that makes you feel better. But I am telling you in it’s everyone’s best interest to let this whole thing drop!” Bastien turned to Liam in frustration, “See if you can talk some sense into him!”

Bastien slammed out the door and Drake turned to Liam, “Li, we can’t let this drop! Tariq should pay for what he did!”

Liam regarded his childhood friend with a mixture of concern and trepidation, “You do understand that if Riley presses charges, so will Tariq, right? Then there will be a very public trial in which certain….things…will be brought to light.”

“What things?”

“Can we sit?” Liam gestured to the chairs at the side of the room.

“Okay,” Drake took a seat and clasped his hands together, resting his arms on his knees as he leaned toward Liam, “What things?”

Liam settled into the chair across from Drake as he collected his thoughts, “There have been some…concerning allegations about your behavior toward Riley, that could be construed to show you have an inappropriate fixation on her and that the attack on Tariq was a symptom of your borderline stalking behavior.”

Drake went ashen, “What the hell, Li? You know me better than that!”

Liam’s face betrayed no emotion as he asked, “Do I?”

“Seriously? We’ve been best friends since we were four years old!”

“Did you tell Lord Baxter that you were Riley’s head of security?”

“You mean the guy from the club the other night?”

“That’s the one.”

“I was just trying to convince him to leave! It was expedient! I-“

“Did you tell him to stay away from her?”

“He wasn’t authorized to be in the-“

“Forget the VIP lounge, did you tell him to stay away from Riley specifically?”

“Yes, but-“

“What were you doing outside her door tonight, Drake?” Liam’s voice held an edge Drake had never heard before.

“What?”

“I asked what you were doing outside Lady Riley’s door at eleven o’clock at night and I expect an answer.”

“I wanted to apologize for the other night.”

“For the attack on Lord Baxter?”

“No. I’m not sorry for that!”

“Right. Then what part were you going to apologize for?”

“For being an ass to her about it!”

“In what way were you an ass to her, Drake?”

“I just said some things…”

“What kind of things?”

“I may have accused her of inviting that Nick guy to the VIP section just to get a rise out of me.”

“And why would that get a rise out of you?”

“I…”

“I’m going to ask you again, Drake. Is there something going on between you and Riley?”

“No…not…no!”

“So, Tariq…”

“He put his hands on her, Li!”

“Yes, she told us that.”

“Good, good!” He relaxed back into his seat with a sigh.

“But…”

“But?” Drake sat up straight in agitated confusion.

“There’s not a scratch on her, Drake! It wasn’t an assault as much as an unwanted advance. Boorish, yes. Grounds for the beating you gave him? No.”

“You didn’t see-“

“You’ve known the man all your life, Drake! Do you really believe he’s a rapist?”

“I….I mean….if you had seen what I saw, Liam-“

“You saw him touching Riley?”

“Yes!”

“And that was enough to send you into a murderous rage?”

“I wouldn’t call it murderous…” He mumbled thudding back into his seat again.

“I think it would be best if you stayed away from her completely.”

“What?” Panic sliced through him. He couldn’t just never see her again.

“You heard me, Drake.”

“You have no right to dictate who she spends her time with, Li!” Drake leapt to his feet, “You don’t fucking own her!”

“I don’t think I own her, Drake,” Liam said grimly as he rose from his chair, “But you seem to think you do and that’s a problem for everybody.”

Astonishment hit Drake in the chest, “What the hell does that mean? I don’t think I own her, or anyone else for that matter!”

“Nonetheless, all things considered, I think it’s best if you keep your distance from her from here on out. Do that and I think I can convince Tariq not to press charges.”

“If I’d kept my distance tonight, Tariq could have…he….”

“I can assure you he won’t go near her again either. I’ll see to that.”

“If you care so much about her, you ought to be as horrified by Tariq’s behavior as I am, and she should have a guard detail!”

“Excuse me?”

“Why doesn’t she have her own guard detail?”

“Because none of the suitors have a guard detail,” Liam stared at him incredulously, “that’s not a thing…”

“Yeah, well, as you so eloquently pointed out, she isn’t used to all this bullshit and she’s far too trusting! Maxwell brought her here, but you encouraged her to stay so it’s your fucking responsibility to make sure she’s safe!”

“Drake, I understand this was upsetting but-“

“Upsetting? Upsetting? You told me you wanted to marry her, Li!”

“What’s that got to do with-“

“Why aren’t you upset, huh? Do you even love her? Or is she just the shiny new thing at court? She was attacked under your own roof tonight!”

“I can assure you that her well-being is of tantamount importance to me! I don’t appreciate-“

“I’m done with this conversation!” Drake stalked to the door and yanked it open.

“Where are you going?” Liam followed him into the hallway where several guardsmen still milled around.

“If you’re not going to ensure her safety, I will!” Drake called over his shoulder as he marched down the hallway.

“What does that mean? Where are you going?” Liam turned his head when Bastien walked up next to him, “What the fuck is he doing?”

“I don’t know, sir. Do you want me to detain him?” Bastien asked.

“No,” Liam sighed, “Just…keep an eye on him. Don’t let him do anything else stupid. And keep him away from Riley!”

Coronation Night….

The guards hustled her toward a waiting limousine, but they were interrupted by a separate contingent of guards.

Riley’s eyes darted between the two groups as she tried to discern what was going on. There was obviously a disagreement, voices were low but intense as an argument ensued.

After several long minutes of back and forth, the one that seemed to be in charge turned to the men on either side of her and jerked his head toward the new group of guardsmen, “Let her go! We’re officially transferring custody of the asset to the Guard Dogs!”

“Wait…the what?” Riley’s head spun around in confusion as she was passed from one set of guards to another.

As she was handed off, the young guardsman who grabbed her left arm took pity on her and tried to explain, “Dog is an acronym, it stands for Deconfliction Operations Group.”

The full official name of the unit was the Cordonian Royal Guard Deconfliction Operations Group. But no one ever said the Cordonian or Royal part when talking about the military regiment responsible for protecting the capital, the palace, and the royal family; it was commonly referred to as just the Guard, so the Guard D.O.G. became the guard dogs in Cordonian military vernacular.

“Okay…” she said as she was guided to a black SUV idling several yards behind the limo, “but what does that mean?”

“It’s a team that coordinates things between units; flights, troop movements, shit like that. So, when missions overlap or platoons are geographically close to each other, the chance of accidents or,” he did air quotes with the fingers of his free hand, “incidents are significantly decreased.”

That cleared up exactly nothing. “Right. But what does that have to do with me?”

“No idea, ma’am,” he gave her an apologetic smile as he placed her in the back of the waiting SUV, “that’s above my paygrade!”

“Do you at least know where I’m going?"

“I don’t know that either. Our orders were just to intervene and keep you from going to the airport.”

“And who did those orders come from?”

“The head of special units.”

“Which is who?” she demanded.

But the young soldier was gone, closing her door, and walking away.

The other door opened, and Drake slid into the backseat next to her, “Hey, Brooks.”

“Drake? What are you doing here?” She hadn’t seen him since the attack on Tariq. The brutality of which had both shocked and alarmed her.

“Keeping you in Cordonia,” he gave her a soft, warm smile as if their last two encounters hadn’t been marked by violence and conflict.

“What do you mean?”

“Hold on,” he leaned forward and murmured something to the driver. The car rolled forward as the partition between the front and back seats rose.

“I mean…the palace guards were instructed to take you to the airport tonight and put you on a plane back to the states.”

“How do you know that?”

“Friends in low places, Brooks. Friends in low places.”

“But then who are these guys and why-“

“These guys are just following orders. The important thing is, you’re safe now.”

But was she?

She had no idea what had happened. One minute, Liam was talking about a future with her and the next he was engaged to someone else and she was being dragged from the ballroom by armed guards.

She had been the subject of a territorial dispute between two guard units and she had no idea whom either one worked for or what any of it had to do with her.

She pulled her cell phone out. She would text Liam. He would explain it.

“Whoa there, Brooks,” Drake pulled the phone from her hand and tossed it out the window.

“What the hell, Drake?” She made a swipe for her phone, but it clattered to the road behind them as the SUV pulled through the palace gates and turned toward the highway.

“That can be tracked, and I can’t keep you safe if I can’t keep your whereabouts secret, can I?”

“Safe from who? From what?”

“I don’t have all the details yet, but I will. Don’t worry.”

She was worried. She was very worried.

She was in a foreign country, with no friends or family or access to her own bank accounts.

In one fell swoop, she had been separated from the Beaumonts, Liam, Hana, and her cell phone.

And now she was alone in the back of an SUV going God knows where with a man whose intensity absolutely terrified her.  

She couldn’t possibly have been more worried.

[bongaboi]

Drake: 2022-23 Missouri Valley Men's Basketball Champions

ST. LOUIS — Drake men's basketball won the Missouri Valley Conference Tournament on Sunday, the Bulldogs' first league tournament title since 2008.

The Bulldogs beat Bradley, 77-51, to win the title and earn an automatic bid to the NCAA Tournament. The Braves were the regular-season conference champions, beating Drake 73-61 in the finale. But it was all Bulldogs in the championship.

This will be Drake's sixth NCAA Tournament appearance. The previous trips were 1969, 1970, 1971, 2008 and 2021.

"You never know what will happen in the tournament," Drake's D.J. Wilkins said. "We didn't know if we'd get the opportunity to play Bradley again, so just to be able to do it on this stage for all the marbles, we wouldn't want to have it any other way."

Drake didn’t make a field goal for the first 4 minutes and 43 seconds of the game, and that drought ended when Darnell Brodie separated himself from Rienk Mast and sank a turnaround jumper.

After starting 0-for-5 from the field, the Bulldogs went on a 12-0 run to go up 14-3 on Bradley. Drake’s defense kept the Braves scoreless for 4 minutes and 28 seconds while building its lead.

Drake held a 41-21 lead at halftime. The Bulldogs’ 20-point advantage was the third-largest halftime lead of any MVC Tournament championship game. That was also the second-largest halftime deficit for Bradley this season; the largest was Drake’s 22-point lead when the Bulldogs beat the Braves, 86-61, in January in Des Moines.

But even a 20-point lead isn’t safe in tournament play. Drake was up by double digits in the semifinal against Southern Illinois, and the Salukis went on a 13-2 run to start the second half.

Zek Montgomery kicked off the scoring in the second with a 3-pointer, and Garrett Sturtz responded with two points for Drake. The Bulldogs were able to respond most times that Bradley scored, keeping the lead in the teens or twenties for all of the second half.

Bradley pulled most of its starters with under four minutes to play, as Drake held a 30-point lead.

"Really proud of our guys," Drake coach Darian DeVries said. "They had an unbelievable fight tonight. Played extremely well, maybe as complete a game as we've had on both ends of the floor. So, an incredible moment."

Tucker DeVries led the Bulldogs with 22 points. Sturtz and Brodie each added 12 points in the win.

Drake advanced to the championship game for the third straight year after beating Southern Illinois, 65-52, in the semifinal. Roman Penn led Drake with 16 points in the victory and Brodie pulled down 17 rebounds.

[nancydrewwouldnever]

THE GLOBE AND MAIL (TORONTO)

GAYLE MACDONALD PUBLISHED FEBRUARY 9, 2009

When Chris Evans is not on a movie set - spewing testosterone, saving the world, helping dames in distress - the handsome actor can usually be found at a dog park in Los Angeles. It's an inner-city haunt where he takes "the love of his life," a cheeky American bulldog named East.

"He thinks he's human," says the chuckling 27-year-old Massachusetts native. "We'll go to the dog park, and he sits on the bench, with the people. And he just looks at the dogs like, 'You idiots. Running around. Rolling in the dirt. Please!' He's just so above it. He's the greatest dog in the world. I can't get enough of him."

Evans, who grew up Catholic but has since embraced Eastern spiritualism, is in the dining room of Toronto's Drake Hotel, chatting about his new science-fiction thriller, Push, in which he co-stars with Dakota Fanning and Camilla Belle. Oblivious to the furtive glances being lobbed his way by some young women in the room, Evans has morphed of late into the go-to guy for directors who want brawn, but not beefcake. He's an actor (Cellular, the Human Torch in the Fantastic Four films) whose heroes have a sensitive, vulnerable side - but can still kick ass.

Good-looking, in a Boston-bred, Matt Damon kind of way, Evans says he's perplexed by how his career has moved into these nice, tough-guy roles. "I don't know how it's happened, to be honest," says Evans, also part of the ensemble in Danny Boyle's 2007 sci-fi thriller Sunshine.

"It's not intentional. It's certainly not deliberate," says the actor, scratching chin scruff. "It's just kind of come that way. But they're not kicking down my door, by any means. These are roles that I still have to go out and compete for.

"I like sci-fi, paranormal stuff, but it's not the top of my list," adds Evans, who dated actress Jessica Biel for several years. "I primarily like stories about family. About friendship. Stories that are just really simple.

"And oddly enough," he says with a laugh, "I've yet to make a movie that is really like that."

In Paul McGuigan's Push (which opened in theatres on Friday), Evans plays Nick Gant, a second-generation telekinetic - or "mover" - who has been in hiding since his father (another mover) was murdered by The Division. When the film starts, Gant is hiding in Hong Kong, trying to stay off the radar of The Division, a shadowy government body hell-bent on transforming citizens into an army of psychic warriors, and murdering those who aren't in sync with their program. Gant meets Cassie Holmes (Fanning) - a "watcher" who can read the future - and the two become the hunters and the hunted as they try to save civilization.

Evans said it was a treat working with the 14-year-old Fanning, who he adds must have grown four inches in the nine months since they shot Push. "I remember hearing her name circling the project, and that definitely sweetened the pot. She's so phenomenal. Having her part of it brings a certain class to the film."

In his spare time, Evans says he and his faithful hound travel back to the East Coast to visit his parents and three siblings, and not long ago - through a "life class" he's part of in Los Angeles (hence the aforementioned spiritualism) - he also journeyed to India's mountainous region in the north.

His decision to take the class, he says, was primarily to find a better way of dealing with the "crazy, sometimes horrible" side of L.A. "It's helping me to manage perception, ego, mind and self. The class tries to present a way of looking at your life, where you focus on staying present and not let your consciousness get out.

"For a while, I foolishly thought that [Hollywood] wouldn't be a difficult thing. Acting is my passion - and I love it - but I believed I'd always have a firm handle on it. I can say, openly and humbly, that over the past few years it's become more difficult. I've thought about moving out of L.A., but for now I'm there, and the work is there. I have great books that I go to on a daily basis just to inject some sanity back."

That said, he adds, some of his greatest friendships have been forged in his nutty business. And he counts Oscar-nominated director Boyle (Slumdog Millionaire) as one of the most exemplary people he's had the fortune to meet - and work with.

"I don't know if you've ever met him, but he's the kindest man in the world. He's genuine. Sincere. And when he speaks to you, he'll look right at you like you're the only person in the room," he says, before interjecting: "Did you know he was going to be a priest?

"The guy just reinvents himself. Whatever he just did, he'll go to the other end of the spectrum [on his next project]and try something completely different. And he nails it every single time. I'm thrilled for him," says Evans, referring to Slumdog Millionaire's 10 nominations for this month's Academy Awards.

"He has the right to everything he's getting right now. He totally deserves it all."

~~*~~

Another earlier Push era interview culled from the archives at the Chris Evans Forum. They're amazing for having kept these older articles around.

[bumbling-kiddo]

also. you dont have to do all the batfam but like maybe two of them. (THO 10000% do all if you want <3) i knowww dick grayson and jason todd the most out of them

okok i got carried away and ended up doing all the main robins hehe sorryyy this will be long :D

for dick grayson:

smudge elephant (of course!!!), birdling blue jay

for jason todd:

birdling robin, dexter dragon <3

for tim drake:

fossily pterodactyl, timmy turtle!!

for stephanie brown:

toastie vivacious aubergine, sweater french bulldog purple :D

for damian wayne:

ooky bat, zeus great dane! :]

[lasseizlesbontempsrouler]

Don't know if you already did it, but what kind of pet for the states? (Like alaska = husky, etc.)

alaska has 3 huskies yes

new jersey has 2 dobies! (dev + hock - > short for devil + hockey)

florida and louisiana have gators and fish and snakes and lizards

louisiana himself has a black cat named tarot

minnesota has a golden colored labrador retriever named berry, and a hedgehog named muffin

arkansas has an australian shepard dog named razor (he takes razor camping! camping buddy!) (oklahoma calls him barkansas)

oregon has a brown cat with a teal collar named perry

california has a goldfish named frannie

wyoming has way too many pets holy shit (most notably a fucking cougar? that loves him? her name is cynthia. he has ferrets named jack + sally)

west virginia has 6 bulldogs that he raised all alone (names are > ellis, jefferson, lincoln, lana, ginny jr., and charlie > short for charleston)

texas has 2 beagles, ferris and star

new york has rats. they wander around his room and don't get lost (splinter, cheddar, pudding and bowie)

alabama has a hedgehog named missy

arizona has a bunny named azalea, a bearded dragon named poptart, and a tarantula named blackbeard

colorado has a ferret named cobra

illinois has 2 boas (pain + panic, both female)

indiana has two ferrets named soda + racetrack

maine has two cats and a dog (a ginger tabby named garfield, a russian blue named poseidon, and a great dane named moxie)

kentucky has 5 horses and a sheepdog (coal, oreo, midnight, angel, dottie, and mendel)

mississippi has 2 hamsters (magnolia and peanut)

georgia has two goldfish named peach and pecan

nevada has a blue and black beta named spade

new mexico doesn't have 'pets,' just animals that flock to him

rhode island has a barbet named francis drake

there's a few more i'll say later

[crxssmyhxart]

[CISMALE, HE/HIM]. Hey, is that LUCIEN LAVISCOUNT, no that is just ISAIAH AVERY around Turtle Bay. I heard they are 31 years old, and their birthday is JULY 27, 1991. They rest their heads in the UPTOWN but they can mainly be found working as a TRUST FUND KID (UNEMPLOYED). Some say they are CHARMING, CONFIDENT, RESOURCEFUL and can be MISCHIEVOUS, SELFISH, LAZY. If they had a theme song it would be, GOD'S PLAN- DRAKE. I hear they are a NATIVE, either way Turtle Bay is home and welcomes you! 

BASICS:

full name: Isaiah Avery

nicknames: Zay

age: 31

dob: July 27, 1991

hometown: Turtle Bay, South Carolina

current location: Turtle Bay, South Carolina

neighborhood: Uptown

occupation: Unemployed

gender: Male

pronouns: He/Him

sexuality: Pansexual

relationship status: Single

Positive Traits: Charming, confident, resourceful

Negative Traits: Mischievous, selfish, lazy

theme song: God's Plan- Drake

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE:

face claim: Lucien Laviscount

hair color: Black

eye color: Brown

height:  5'10 ft

weight: 158 lbs

build: Athletic

tattoos: None

piercings: None

FAMILY:

mother: Destiny Avery

father: Jeremiah Avery

siblings: Zachariah Avery, Ashanti Avery

children: None

pet(s): English Bulldog puppy, Andre

BIOGRAPHY:

Isaiah Avery, better known as Zay was the middle child born to Destiny and Jeremiah and was taught from a young age to respect the privilege and responsibility of being an Avery. Also from a young age he knew that it didn't actually mean anything that hundreds of years ago his relative and a bunch of other guys watched a bunch of turtles being born and decided to start a town here.

That being said, Zay didn't mind the benefits of growing up the police chief's son, and as a part of the founding families. He enjoyed the notoriety it brought him, as well as the trust fund. Even if his father did repeatedly threaten to take it away based on his behavior, he knew his mother would never actually let him.

What annoys him even more than his father, a sentiment he never could have imagined growing up,is his older brother Zach. It seemed that just as his father maybe started to accept him for the way he was, his brother made it his personal project to judge him and harass him and drive him completely crazy at all times. He knows it upsets his mother when they fight but he can't help it. Not when Zach is constantly trying to control his life.

These days Zay enjoys getting high, not working and having a good time. He went to school for communications, seeing how important it was to his mother that he gets a degree after making it very clear that he wouldn't be following the family into law enforcement. He figures some day he'll get bored and settle down with a career but it hasn't happened yet.