#ducknerva fanfiction

[grasslandgirl]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Adventure Zone (Podcast) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Minerva/Duck Newton Characters: Duck Newton, Juno Divine, Aubrey Little (mentioned), Arlo Thacker (mentioned), Leo Tarkesian (mentioned) - Character, Sarah Drake (mentioned), Minerva (The Adventure Zone) Additional Tags: I'm just filled with A Lot Of Love (and so is Duck), mostly just stream of consciousness and internal monologue, The Adventure Zone Amnesty Spoilers, The Adventure Zone: Amnesty, Duck Newton Is Tired And Just Wants To Be Happy, bandwagon here we come!!!! Summary:

What happens to Duck Newton after he gets back home; a musing on the meaning of home and duty, and what you can do to find yours. --- "He wants something familiar, something comfortable. He wants someone who knows him as well as he knows himself. Who trusts and respects him, who can understand and anticipate him, and someone he can match and return in kind. He wants a best friend he can love quietly and dutifully, because as he’s gotten older and settled into his life, he’s come to appreciate the stability of duty."

[patriciasage]

“Duck Newton!” Minerva calls from the kitchen.

Duck finishes rinsing the toothpaste from his mouth. “Yeah? What’s up?” Moments later, she appears in the mirror behind him. She stands a foot taller, so he doesn’t even obstruct her view. 

“I wish to speak to you about something. Will you sit with me on the bed?”

Duck places his toothbrush in the cup next to hers. “’Course, Min. Is somethin’ wrong?”

She considers his question for a second. “I don’t believe so.”

“Great.” Duck gestures to the next room. “Lead the way, then.”

Minerva always has impeccable posture. It reminds Duck to straighten his back when he sits beside her on the edge of the bed. Even so, he must tilt his head up to look at her. He waits. 

“Now that we are...romantically connected -” Duck can’t help but smile, thinking of their first kiss the night before. “Is it acceptable for me to touch you more often?”

Duck laughs. Minerva’s frown appears in response, but vanishes when he responds. “Darlin’, you can touch me any time you want. Okay, well, maybe not any time. There are good and bad times for certain kinds of touches. We’ll talk about the details. But,” he takes her large, dark hand in his, “When we’re at home, you can touch me pretty much whenever.”

“And you would like that?”

“Very much.”

Minerva’s smile takes over her face and makes Duck’s heart flutter, as it always does. She turns to face him and reaches up with her free hand. Duck feels held in place as her calloused palm cups his cheek. Her thumb runs gently over his bottom lip, her eyes fixed on the point of contact.

“For the vast majority of the time I’ve known you, Duck, you’ve been a silhouette projected from my machine. I...didn’t have anyone else. And I looked forward to seeing you.” Her hand, incredibly gentle for something with such strength, moves down his neck to rest over his heart. Duck is acutely aware of his increased breathing rate. “But when I got here and saw you - saw you - for the first time... I recognized you, of course, but you were so much lovelier than I could have imagined. I was exhilarated by how many details I had yet to explore, to understand.”

Duck swallowed. His tongue felt dry in his mouth. “Yeah, um. I felt the same. Especially seein’ all these cool tattoos.” She returns his smile. 

“Duck Newton, I enjoy how you feel under my hands. The roughness of your cheeks, the softness of your hair. I want to touch your strong legs, your stomach, the scars on your chest from the surgery you had in your youth. Is that alright?”

Duck nods, not trusting his voice to comply. 

Minerva kisses the way she fights - with precision and urgency. She peels away layers of clothing and insecurity. She takes him apart with something akin to reverence. 

Although, a few weeks later, they do have to have a talk about Minerva grabbing his ass while he’s at work. She’s a fast learner. 

(read more Ducknerva ficlets here)

[dakohtah]

my god, haven’t we grown up a little?

ducknerva? minewton? whatever u call it, have some hot, fresh Big Wife, Little Husband TAZ: Amnesty fiction, also available on my ao3

..

It wasn’t that Duck was emotionally constipated or, like, real invested in the concept of his own masculinity. He was just a dude. Maybe a dude who, say, didn’t really do ‘opening up’ super well.

No, like, for real.

Not in the “aw, shucks, no one taught me basic emotional competency” way, but more in the “God cursed me with a very particular voice and face that makes emotional intimacy difficult at best” way.

It wasn’t like he didn’t know how it looked. It was a bad look. He knew that. But, listen, okay?

It was the oldest story in the book: there are two folks, right? One has a big destiny, and the other is some kinda alien sword mentor, or something. There’s a big talking sword, that’s a whole thing. And then, uh. Well, like, twenty years pass. That’s nothing, though, they don’t talk or anything. But eventually they live together? Like, later. Way later. Only Aubrey is there, too, so it isn’t, uh. Well, you know how Aubrey is. Anyhow, Leo’s next door, too, so—it’s not—it, uh—yeah.

Yada yada, they fight some aliens, like, real good, and then—boom! You know. Some of their closest friends are in an alien dimension, maybe forever, and it’s time to figure out what comes next.

Well, it turned out Brazil was next. That part was kinda easy, actually.

Planting trees. Doing good. The whole, uh, thing. And Duck usually felt okay about that—real okay. Maybe better than he ever had, actually.

It was good work to be doing. And it felt good.

And, well, maybe—you know. It’s back to the story, right? Maybe one of the two—the big destiny one? You remember. Maybe he, somewhere along the way, kind of, uh—you know? Right? You gotta know. It’s kinda really obvious, and he’s kinda been really counting on that because—uh.

Aw, Christ. He really just thought that she’d, like, know. You know?

Seemed like everyone else did, anyhow.

“Y’gotta say something, Duck. I don’t—God damn it, you’re so stupid. How’d you survive a whole apocalypse with such a bad case of stupid, huh?”

Duck didn’t know, so he said, “I don’t know, Juno! Listen, if I knew how to—if I could just, like—say it?” He heard more than felt his head connect with the wall behind him but couldn’t bring himself to lift it from the couch, “Listen, I’m not doin’ this on purpose. Does this look fun for me? Huh?”

Juno shrugged. Duck didn’t see it, but he could feel it in the air. It was less than sympathetic, and Duck regretted inviting her into his apartment.

“She’s not a fuckin’—okay, well, she is an alien, but c’mon, bud. Just, I dunno? Sit her down. Look her in the eye. And just—” and she said this bit in a real low—and real hateful, honestly—impersonation of Duck, “Now, listen, Minnie—”

“Hey, don’t fuckin’ call her that, she said she doesn’t like it and—”

She waved him away, tucking her feet up in under her, “Aw, fuck clean off, Duck, she lets you call her Minnie all day long. And, obviously, I’m bein’ you. Now, hush.” Juno’s voice was deep in a mean approximation when she spoke again, “Listen, Minnie, I’ve been a’thinkin’ ‘bout you. Thinkin’ ‘bout the way your big, strong arms could just—”

“Hey, now—”

“—just pick me up, real gentle-like, and whisk me away—”

“Juno, I fuckin’ swear you better quit it or else I’ll—” Duck stood up, real ready-like, felt abruptly like a real dipshit, and sat back down. Squinching his eyes shut, he pinched the bridge of his nose and counted to ten, “Now dang it, Juno, you know it ain’t as easy as all that.”

His apartment was quiet for a beat, and then another.

The lumpy, cushioned arm of Duck’s chair dipped, and he felt a familiar form lean against his hunched shoulders. Duck released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding when Juno said, “M’sorry about pickin’ on you, bud.” A beat, again, “I think it’s sweet, that’s all. Minerva will think so, too.”

Duck leaned in, trying desperately to convince himself that these were real, tangible concerns and not the premise of a high school romcom, “You think so? Like, for real?”

“For real,” Juno confirmed solemnly. Duck took a chance, glancing up at her as she continued, “She probably even—you know, likes you back. Like, like-likes you back,” her eyebrows waggled, and it was hateful as hell.

Duck groaned and his temple pulsed with a dull ache. Christ, he felt old, so he said, “Jesus Christ, Juno, I’m forty-three.”

“Ee-yup,” Juno affirmed with a slap on his shoulder.

“This is fuckin’ stupid.”

“Yessir.”

“I’m just gonna say it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Like—tomorrow.”

“That so?”

Duck sat up, his fists clenched, “No, you’re right—tonight. I’ll fuckin, uh—I’m gonna do it tonight.”

Juno clapped him hard on the back this time, “Hey, that’s the spirit, buddy!” She glanced up at the wall clock and cursed, “Shit, s’already six? I ought’a head on back to mine and get cookin’.” She stood fluidly, grabbing her keys off of the coffee table before heading toward the door.

Duck stood quickly enough to give himself a head rush, “Juno, hold up a sec, I—uh.” He met her by the door and spoke fast, trying hard not to stumble over the words, “Please, please, tell me I can stay with you for a few if it goes real bad.”

Juno snorted, “Yeah, whatever. Do I look like a fuckin’ Motel 6? I’ll leave a light on for you.”

“Thanks, Junebug.”

“Good luck, Don Juan.”

----

By the time Duck heard the key turning in the lock at 6:45 on the dot—as usual, Minnie always ended up staying over a little late on her Saturday shifts—he’d been left alone long enough to feel as though he was setting himself up to be nominated Dipshit of the Century.

Too late for regrets, he figured, because the door was creaking open and the sight of her was damn near enough to get him all winded.

“I am home, Wayne Newton!” Minerva declared, waving her ranger cap at him with a beaming grin before turning to hang it on the coat rack by the door. “Today I saw three very large ducks, and they—" she stopped short as she got a better look at him, hands falling slack by her sides.

In retrospect, Duck figured it might’ve looked like a little much. Or maybe it just looked bad. Both, maybe? He glanced anxiously down at the table he was seated at, taking in the center candle, uncorked bottle of wine, and admittedly shoddy alfredo he’d managed to throw together since Juno’d left.

But he’d had some time to practice, so Duck said real cool-like, “I, uh—hello, Minerva.” He pointed a shaking hand at the chair, placed across from his at the table, “Won’t you—uh, have a seat.” Except that he forgot to make the last bit sound like a question, so he added, “Um, please?”

Minerva looked decidedly anxious, which Duck didn’t like one fuckin’ bit, as she shrugged out of her coat and toward the chair. She hesitated, a calloused hand brushing the table delicately, “Is everything alright, Wayne Newton?”

“No—fuck! I mean, uh, yes?” Duck realized too late that he’d never stopped pointing at the fucking chair and snatched his hand back. “Uh, everything is absolutely alright, just peachy.”

Minerva nodded once and sat. She was looking a little over his right shoulder. Duck followed her gaze to a fuck-off big river rock she’d given to him the month before and, bizarrely, felt comforted enough to carry on.

“So,” He began, but it didn’t go anywhere. Duck glanced back at the rock and tried again, “Okay, Minerva, we’ve got to talk.”

She nodded solemnly, “Alright.”

Duck, stupidly, nodded back before taking a deep breath, “Okay, I, uh—aw, fuck! I just—Minnie, I’m sorry, I meant to do this after dinner and I just. Fuckin’ forgot, I guess? Shit. You can—”

“No, thank you, Wayne Newton. This meal looks skillfully prepared, but I would like for you to speak first.”

“You sure?” Minerva nodded, so Duck said it quick like ripping off a band-aid, “Alright, Minerva, I lo—uh, like you. I like you.” He swallowed hard against the confusion that colored her broad features, “Like, uh. Romantically, Minnie. I would like to, um, take you out sometime.”

Minerva’s mouth dropped into a perfect little ‘o’. To Duck’s mounting horror, she dropped her head into her palms.

It was quiet for a long moment, during which Duck was pretty sure his soul left his physical body. Fuck, he had to fix this, he—

“Wayne Newton, how long have you harbored romantic feelings toward me?” She spoke real slow, and it was a solid minute before she lifted her head.

Duck was at least relieved that she didn’t look mad, just—embarrassed? He was already speaking before her eyes met his, “Shit, Minnie, I’m so sorry, it doesn’t have to—”

She held up an open palm to stop him and seemed to collect herself. “No, please do not apologize. I, ah—I believe there has been a very large misunderstanding. Did you—feel this way before we traveled to Brazil?” Duck was quiet for a minute, and she said, “Please be honest, Wayne Newton.”

Duck figured he must’ve looked like a fish, the way his mouth was opening and closing. He didn’t know what she was getting at, and still had half a mind to head to Juno’s for the night, but all he said was, “Um, I—yeah.”

Minerva visibly let out a breath, but put her head into her palms again, “That—Thank you, Wayne Newton. That is a relief to hear.”

Duck felt a truly unhealthy amount of blood rush to his cheeks and up his ears, “Minnie, d’ya mind if I—uh, ask why?”

She let out a noise Duck might’ve expected to hear from a squeaky wheel before stammering, “Wayne Newton, I am now very embarrassed. I do not want to tell you why.”

Gingerly, Duck managed out of his chair and around the table. Real slow, he put a hand on her shoulder and found himself unspeakably relieved when a hand came to tentatively cover his. He cleared his throat, “Hey, now, it’s—it’s alright. You don’t have nothin’ to be embarrassed of. Will you tell me what the, uh, misunderstanding is all about?”

Minerva mumbled into the palm her face rested in.

“Can you please say it one more time?”

She finally met Duck’s gaze with a deep frown, turning slightly in her seat. “I was—Wayne, I had believed that we were already romantically involved,” she admitted miserably.

Duck opened and closed his mouth a couple times before words came out, “You what?”

Minerva shook her head as if shaking off a bad dream. “Wayne Newton, I had asked you if I could accompany you to Brazil. Do you remember this? I had told you that I would follow you anywhere if you would allow it. I assumed that you understood that I—that it was a confession, if you will. You said—and I quote, Wayne Newton— ‘same here, bud’. I had assumed…” she let the sentence hang, eyes trained on the table.

Duck felt as though he might be having a stroke, “It was a what?”

“And you are so—so hesitant sometimes, Wayne Newton! I had believed—well, perhaps you were not interested in intimacies such as the holding of hands! And—you invited me to share our home here! Your planet is just so different at times, I just—oh, Christ.” There was a thump, and Minerva’s clean-shaven head connected with the table, “Wayne Newton, there is worse shame yet.”

Aw, jeez, she was getting worked up. Duck’s brain felt like it had been replaced with mashed potatoes. It was okay, it would be alright—he could fix this, so he opened his mouth and said, “I—what?” His hand felt too hot under hers. He was gonna pass out.

She continued as if he hadn’t spoken, which he figured was fair, “I gave you the large rock.”

Duck nodded dumbly although she wasn’t looking at him. He could see the rock, sitting proudly by their bookshelf, “Uh, I—yeah. Yeah, you gave me a great rock, Min.”

“You see, I was under the impression that large rocks were symbolic of a lifetime commitment on this planet?” Minerva said it like a question and fuck, Duck was gonna pass out. “We have been—well. It has been one year since we moved, and I—” she groaned, “Wayne Newton, this is the nightmare scenario.”

And it really wasn’t funny, except that it kinda was, so Duck gave a weak laugh and his vision got a little splotchy and—

And then Duck was looking up at Minerva and boy, Jesus, did his back hurt.

“Wayne Newton, it seems that you have fainted,” Minnie’s voice was earnest as she crouched next to him on the floor of their kitchen. “Perhaps you should eat some food?”

With an embarrassing amount of effort, and the assistance of Minerva’s outstretched hand, Duck managed to sit upright, “Now, hold on just a second, Minnie. You—I mean, we��are we like, together? I mean, romantically?”

Minerva looked at the ceiling—maybe bargaining with God. He sure wouldn’t blame her if she were. “Yes, that was the impression I was under.”

He swallowed audibly, “And you’re like—cool? With that?”

“I—yes.”

Duck started to feel faint again when he said, “Minnie, are we engaged?”

Minerva relaxed out of her crouch and sat heavily beside him, shooting a venomous look at the living room. She was looking at Duck’s engagement ring, he noted feebly. “Wayne Newton, this is humiliating.”

“I mean—I meant, like. Is that…is that what you want?”

Slowly, Minerva’s warm hand found its way to cover his. Real gentle-like. Duck could feel thick callouses and the outline of a long scar stretching across her palm, and he was helpless to do anything but spread out his fingers and catch hers in between them. It was quiet for a long moment before Minerva spoke.

“Wayne Newton, I meant it quite literally when I said I would follow you anywhere, for as long as you would allow me to. I do not—it doesn’t have to be now, or ever. I am not sure what the ritual on this planet entails, to be entirely honest, and I do not know if it is something you want at all. It is clear that there are some things I do not yet understand. Regardless, this is—I would like this. For as long as you will allow me to.”

“Fuck it,” Duck said a little too quickly, so he scrambled to add, “I mean, yeah. Like, me too, I—yes.”

“So, you—do you like the handholding, Wayne Newton? Can we do that?”

Duck squeezed their interlocked fingers, “Yeah, for sure.”

Minerva nodded sharply, “Wonderful. We shall hold hands for just a moment more, and then we will eat our cold dinner.”

And, honestly? Duck wasn’t like, super sure if he was engaged or what, exactly. But Duck knew that whatever it was, he was super into it, so he said, “I’m super into that, hell yes.

[thecozycryptid]

Because there’s no content for Indrid, Duck and Minerva, I decided to make some myself. I love these three so much and felt like a Poly-V series was in order, this being the first instalment!

Rating: T (for swearing)

Characters: Indrid, Duck, Minerva, Aubrey (mentioned), Duck’s Cat

Tags: Pre-poly, character study, lots of feelings tbh

Warnings: Major spoilers, that’s it.

Summery: ‘Duck Newton was pretty comfortable with his sexuality. But then he had met Minerva. And then he’d met Indrid. And by god, they had him in a daze.’

[Liking is useless but reblogging is hella appreciated! I’m also open to any suggestions for further fics surrounding these three <3]

[multi-fandom-nonsense]

Yall i got some really soft minduck coming at you later tonight

[clockworksalsa]

Duck doesn’t know what to do.

Not that he’s ever known a goddamn thing about what to do and when to do it his entire life. It’s a vastly different not-knowing, though, without the feeling of a set path underfoot, like a well-worn trail through the thickest of forests. Whatever choices he wound up making, the curves followed him, not the other way around, and he always ended up right where he needed to be, every time, until...

Well, he won’t say he misses it, exactly, the destiny business and the asshole sword, the alien planets and interstellar wars, but he does miss the sense of purpose. He has to fill up the newly vacant spot in his life, with something or other, he guesses. His schedule is wide open, and he’s a little embarrassed that Aubrey and Thacker get right to work fixing up Sylvain, according to Mama, “doin’ a damn good job of it too”. In his opinion, he made off with the short stick- those two are off just now coming into what they’re meant to be, and he’s already ticked that off the ol’ bucket list. It’s a blessing and a curse. 

For years, he’s rebelled against his calling, longing to rest, but now there’s no resistance. The future is yielding to him, now, warm clay ready to be molded, but Duck hasn’t the first clue what to make of it. Even his forestry job, so near and dear to his heart, seems not to need him, like he no longer fits the mold he’d carved away in his quest for normalcy. The park’s quiet- local campers are a lot more reticent to goof off in the woods with the knowledge that Bigfoot himself is right up the road, and that kind of caution gets passed to any who pass through. It’s as green and verdant as ever out there, like the Earth is breathing a tremendous sigh of relief at not being totally annihilated, and Duck is as always captivated and wondrous of the nature he protects, but it feels like he’s missing something vital. He’s frozen, at a crossroads, for the first time in his life, he gets to choose what happens next. And in the meantime, he keeps going through the motions.

Until one night, when he’s channel surfing, sprawled on the couch with the cat on his lap, when he sees that the Amazon is burning. Something buzzes in his rib cage, adrenaline spiking in his gut, a familiar feeling with a slightly different flavor, and oh, yes, he can work with this. He calls up Juno first, figures she’d want to know where he’s hightailing it to, maybe even tell him he’s batshit crazy, but to his immense surprise she offers to join him. He heard about what she did that night, when the Quell came for Kepler, and he wonders if she’s been missing that feeling too, the feeling of being a hero, as he agrees to drag her all the way to fucking Brazil on a whim.

No, Duck doesn’t miss the battles, the training, the immense responsibility of being Chosen, but he figures, hell, there’s plenty more than one way to be a hero. It’s a fight of a different kind, but a fight nonetheless- and that’s how he pitches it to Minerva.

The giantess of a woman is standing in his kitchen, carefully working the coffee maker like he taught her. She’s picked up lots of things in bouncing around between her chosen ones, but by and large she spends most of her time with him. He wrestles with how to tell her he’s leaving as she pours two cups, black for both of them (only because he’s out of sugar and creamer). He doesn’t know how she’ll take the news, that’s he’s leaving. He also doesn’t know why it matters so much, why he’s worried about what she’ll get up to without him, and how he’ll function without her constant, reassuring presence, even if he couldn’t stand it for a good few years.

And, yeah, shit, he’s spent the last 20 years of his life running from her, hasn’t he, so why now is he overcome with this... anxiety? It’s not like he’ll never see her again— an echo of the loss he felt when their connection got severed stabs into him, cold and miserable. He can tell himself it’s because he became weaker, got un-chosen, all he likes, but damn, he’d missed Minerva. Despite her hounding him nonstop, his respect for her had only grown, exponentially so since he’d joined the Pine Guard, and started coming into his destiny. She’d trusted him with this responsibility, and in return, he’d trusted her to teach him how to use it. He wouldn’t be the man he is today without her- and hell, he probably wouldn’t even be here at all.

Ah, shit. He notices that she’s talking to him when he feels the warmth of the mug being pressed into his hands, and he catches, “...alright, Wayne Newton?”

It’s still so weird to hear his name played out like that, in her particular cadence, and without a trace of mockery. Perks of having alien friends, he guesses. He much prefers Duck, but he thinks Minerva takes pride in the fact she’s the only one who gets this privilege, so he lets it slide. Hell, she’s more than earned it, putting up with his bullshit over the years. She’s earned honesty, not that he’s much of a liar. He blows out a sigh, and decides with all of his chosen-one courage to just bite the bullet and get it over with.

“Minerva, I’ve been thinkin’,” he starts, voice low and gravelly. It’s too loud in his ears, and his gut twists, “me n’ Juno are gonna head out to do some good down in the Amazon rainforests. Fightin’ fires and doin’ restoration work, and, man, they could really use the help, seems like. Brazil. It’s, uh, south of here. Way south.”

Minerva tilts her painted head. She looks almost... pleased, like she’d known he’d been looking for something to do, something more. She knows him too well. She claps a heavy hand on his shoulder and squeezes, just shy of painful. Yeah, yeah, she’s proud, but it feels hollow, especially when she says, “I see. A worthy endeavor! And how long will this new mission last, Wayne Newton? A few weeks? Months?”

“Well, see, that’s the thing,” Duck says, haltingly, “we don’t know. There’s, lots to do, and I don’t— I probably wouldn’t come back. To Kepler. Well, to visit, sure, but I’d imagine that, uh, once I get all set up over there, I won’t be, you know, back back.”

Minerva’s hand slips from his shoulder, joining her other clasped around her mug. She eyes her coffee, lips pursed, thinking, mulling it over- she’s so easy to read, now that he can actually see her face, her strong, expressive features. She doesn’t... deflate, exactly, but her natural exuberance seems to dim somewhat. She doesn’t look upset, at least, not that he expected her to pitch a fit, but maybe it stings a little that she isn’t protesting him moving miles and miles away. Why would she? Whatever his sudden hangups are, she’s still got Leo and Dr. Drake, plus all the Amnesty folk. He’s given her what she’s asked of him, done his part, and now, she’s well within her right to move on. They both are. Right?

“Alright, Duck Newton,” she shrugs, likely coming to the same conclusion, and takes a huge swig of her still-boiling coffee. Duck sips at his own, and wonders if that’s it, then. They spend the day watching old sitcoms together, a cushion apart on the couch, and Duck wonders.

It’s about two weeks after that, and Duck still hasn’t left yet. He’s really underestimated the work it takes to uproot oneself from 40 years of staying in one place, stagnant.

He and Juno are in the process of seeing about a transfer over to a similar station a ways out from the forest itself, a place to set up camp as it were, a sort of jumping off point for their new lives. He’s also been brushing up on his Spanish in Duolingo, but it’s so hard to keep up with that shit, he mostly plans on coasting with his high-school level knowledge of the language. He’s sure it’ll be fine. He’s been busy, thinking about what to pack, and what to leave to his friends in Kepler, plans in place for if- when, when, they get the gate fixed, making sure all the paperwork is in order for transferring his lease, what he’s gonna do with his cat—

And, right. That’s why he’s out with Minerva at the moment, doing some pithy grocery shopping. Duck’s always been pretty bad at it- it’s not like he’s had to really try to keep in shape, he can usually just eat whatever’s on sale from week to week, takeout if he’s feeling particularly lazy. No, mostly, he’s walking Minerva through the task, subtly preparing her for the responsibility of moving in to his apartment, and keeping up with his routines. That’s his grand plan— he ain’t gotta worry about her if he knows she’s all set up somewhere familiar, roof over her head, a solid schedule, cat to keep her company. She’ll be good without him here, which is his intention, and why that still bothers him, he doesn’t know. Not that he doesn’t trust the other Chosen Ones to look out for her; he just thought that, maybe, doing this for her, for his peace of mind, would make the thought of leaving her more bearable.

It doesn’t.

They’re hefting in the groceries, and he shows Minerva where everything goes, the cat brushing at their ankles because she knows that groceries mean it’s just about feeding time. He tries to make a joke about it to Minerva, but it’s like his voice gets stuck in his throat. He feels sick, almost worse than before he planned this little scheme, and it must show on his face, because Minerva blocks the doorway before he can dive back out to get the last of the goods. She takes up the entire frame, arms crossed, a stubborn wall of muscle, and he knows it’s pointless trying to wrestle by her.

“Duck Newton,” she booms, a warning in her tone. “You are positively green. Have you fallen ill? Do you require medical attention?”

“There’s frozen shit in the car, Minerva, come on,” Duck tries, weakly, but she arches one eyebrow and stands firm, only budging to lay the back of her deeply tanned hand against his forehead. If anything, he’s clammy, so her touch is warm, and something has him jolting back, deeper into the apartment.

She remains poised with her hand held up in the open air for a few seconds, before letting it fall as a fist at her side. She narrows her eyes, grounds out, “what was the purpose of this grocery expedition, Duck Newton? Are you keeping something from me?”

Duck feels his heart pounding in his ears, louder than her accusation. He’s a shit liar, he knows this, knows he can’t smooth this over with any hemming and hawing, so, “I want you to have my apartment,” he blurts, and while perfectly sufficient, great, yup, that’s it, he tacks on anyway, “I want to know you’ll be ok, while I’m gone.”

She tenses up, just a touch, but he notices. God, he’s so stupid. Minerva is brashly independent; a warrior like her would probably be offended by being coddled. He could’ve just left it at the first bit, been all practical about it, but then he had to go on and get mushy- but, then, she smiles, and shakes her head. Her eyes, though, are unreadable. “I am flattered, Duck Newton. I shall gladly accept this charge.”

He breathes a heavy sigh of relief, glad to have that over and done with, but the knot that’s formed in his stomach doesn’t dissipate. If anything, it coils tighter. He speaks through the lump in his throat, “well, alright then. I sure do appreciate it. You’ve always got my back, Minerva.”

It comes out far more tender than he anticipated, and he feels that there’s something else trying to push through, behind the words. His mind rails against the thought, panic blooming fresh in his chest, and he mentally stamps it down as Minerva steps out into hall, gesturing for him to follow suit.

It’s bittersweet, somehow, when Minerva sighs as he passes by her, breath fanning his spectacular hat- tousled hair, “of course. That is what friends are for.”

It’s four weeks after that that Duck and Juno feel just about ready to leave. Ready, in the sense of being physically prepared, packed, locked and loaded, itching to get out there and do some good. Mentally, though, Duck’s hit a roadblock. He can’t speak to what Juno’s mind is on, of course, so she might be 100% raring to go, but Duck keeps circling back around to just plain not wanting to leave Minerva here in Kepler.

For so long, they’ve been a kind of package deal. It’s not that he doesn’t want to go to Brazil, he totally does, it excites him, he just— it doesn’t feel right, without being with her. Yeah, yeah, there’s no more fighting to do, and thank God for that, but- but maybe, maybe, they’re allowed to exist outside of that, together. They’ve become more than just, mentor and mentee, at this point. Maybe maybe, they can just be.

Duck drags a hand down the side of his face, exasperated. What, is he gonna start doodlin’ little hearts with D+M in ‘em? Fuckin’ embarrassing. So, he’s got some schoolyard crush on Minerva now? He guesses? He ignores the part of his brain that tells him it’s more than that, that Minerva has always pushed him to want more and be more, and that this is no exception. No. He puts his foot down. Minerva is, arguably, his best friend, his trusted advisor. They’ve been through thick and thin— he’d do just about anything for her, he thinks, and in return she’s trusted him with more than he deserves, in his opinion. He’s sure that this is just some last ditch effort to hold onto her, selfishly. She’s allowed to live her own life, now that she’s got the opportunity. He doesn’t get to claim her, keep her close, when she’d been shackled to him out of mere necessity.

See, the more he talks through it with himself, the more he can see that it’s better for them, to go their separate ways. His hero days are over, and it’s not fair to ask her to stay. He can see that, clearly, but then he circles right back to the ache in his heart, the big, beefy hole it would make if he tried to cut Minerva out of it. He lays awake with these thoughts, and aches.

They’re over at Leo’s. They all brought something, ate dinner together, the Chosens and their guide, washed the dishes and put them away. A last hurrah, for Duck, and for the steady peace that they’ve finally settled into. The doctor is the first to go; she says something or other about being on the verge of a breakthrough, ambition burning in her eyes, and excuses herself, giving Duck an awkward hug and some final well-wishes. He thanks her, profusely, mostly for tonight, but also, a little bit for everything else too. She flushes, and then waves goodbye to Minerva as Duck returns to his seat. Leo walks Dr. Drake out, leaving Duck and Minerva sitting at the dining room table in poignant silence.

They haven’t really gotten to talking much since the whole apartment ordeal. He’s fully distracted himself with thoughts of his impending future, the complete reverse of his tactic for dealing with Chosen One bullshit, which is kind of funny. He doesn’t feel much like joking, though, looking over at Minerva. Her head is rested on her hand, and she’s staring off into the distance, face blank. She’s unusually reserved, and it’s disconcerting to see.

He sighs, quietly, resigned, and breaks the silence. He’s got one more goodbye to fight through. “Hey, you wanna root around and see if Leo’s got dessert hidin’ out somewhere in here?”

“Oh.” Minerva looks up, and offers him a half smile, sliding out of her seat. “A good idea as any, Duck Newton.”

He nods, and feels her follow behind him into the kitchen. It’s- it’s so weird, that this bothers him, but she hadn’t called him Wayne since he said he was leaving. Call me Wayne, he had said, and she did, so much so he knew she was saying it just to say it, because she could. It in no way measured up to what she’s given him, but that small secret part of himself belonged to very few people. It felt special, to him. Did he somehow take it back? Did he make her feel like he did?

“Duck Newton? You are not being very helpful,” Minerva grumbles, accompanied by the sound of shifting bags and boxes of food, shoulder deep in some cabinet.

“Shoot, sorry about that,” he laughs, short, amused. His heart does a little flip flop, and his smile withers, just a little. Right. He begins to rifle through the opposite side of the kitchen, procrastinating, until Minerva actually procures an unopened box of snack cakes from the recesses of the pantry.

“Ah-hah!” She holds the box out to him proudly, exuding pure satisfaction. Her happiness is infectious, and he feels himself being pulled into her intense orbit, being bodily lifted out of his funk. She grins, brightly, winsomely. “I have found! The Ding-Dongs!”

He snorts, unable to help himself, and again, between gasping breaths, until he’s overcome with a fit of giggles. He’s crying, too, and he can’t tell if it’s the joy or the despair that has, “God, I’m going to miss you so much,” tumbling out of his mouth, and- and, it doesn’t scare him half as much as he thought it might.

He’s almost doubled over at this point, but he can see her boot-clad feet scuffle closer, and he can hear the sound of the Ding-Dongs being set aside. He says it again, desperately, because he can, because it’s out there and it doesn’t matter if it hurts later, because at least she’ll know right now, “I’ll miss you so goddamn much.”

“Duck Newton,” she says, and the waver in her voice is so jarring that the laughter just about dies in his throat instantly. She clears her throat as he straightens up, wiping the tears from his cheeks, suddenly somber, and she continues, “Duck Newton, I will miss you more.”

They stare at each other, and he watches, wide-eyed, marking the tear rolling down her cheek. “Minerva,” he starts, but there’s just so much that he wants to say, nothing else quite makes it through. So he steps forward, and reaches, reaches up, and slowly, carefully brushes that tear away. He can see her swallow, and it feels like they’re both holding their breath.

Her skin isn’t soft, exactly, a bit tougher than his own, human skin, he thinks, but it’s warm under his palm, and as his thumb finishes it’s arc, he finds himself unwilling to pull away. Come with me, he thinks, stay with me. Until he remembers, that isn’t fair to her, that he can’t decide for her, when she’s got her own life to live, and then he steps back, skin tingling with electricity, heart squeezing painfully tight.

She touches her cheek gingerly with her own hand as soon as he does, eyeing him almost in awe, in disbelief, and he wonders. He aches. But he doesn’t get to choose what happens next. She does. So, he says, “listen, Minerva, whatever happens, wherever I am, we’re still gonna be friends, ok? I’m not— I can’t ask you to, to follow me to the ends of the earth, or you know, any other fuckin’ planet, for that matter. It’s ok. It’s— I mean, we’ll be good.”

Minerva blinks, opening her mouth, but Duck barrels on, “and it isn’t a big deal, really, right? I mean, all that destiny shit is behind us, there isn’t really any need for us, to, you know, keep close. Assuming that there isn’t another world-threatening encounter, loomin’ on the horizon, but, you know, my visions’ve stopped, I ain’t got my sword, I mean, what can I do here? You don’t need me here. And, you know, I guess without me to worry about, you’d be free to do whatever you want to?”

His heart his hammering, jack-rabbiting behind his ribs, but he’s so, so fucking relieved that he’s finally put what all he’s feeling into words. Well, most of it, anyhow, but he touched on what matters most. He’s navigating blind, and no one’s more surprised than he is at where’s he’s landed- except maybe Minerva. He waits with baited breath, feeling like he’s just run a marathon, watching as her brow furrows, digesting his long winded blathering.

“Duck,” she says, just Duck, and he feels winded a whole different way with how she says it, soft and sad and so very different from her usual boisterous tone that it physically hits him, a gut punch.

She speaks slowly, methodically, like she’s choosing her words very carefully, “I want nothing more in the world for you than your happiness, Duck. And whatever you choose to do in your life, I will be here for you, beside you. Have I not proven this to you many times over? Believe me when I say that I can see no reason to leave you now, and can foresee no reason to do so, ever.”

“Minerva,” Duck murmurs, daring to hope. He tries not to read into her wording too much, knowing her phrasing tends to come off as awkward more often than not, but. “Of course you have, but... you should be free to make your own choices, you know? I want you to- to find your purpose, you know, outside of, well, me.”

“Duck Newton, you are my purpose.” He doesn’t know when the kitchen got to be so damn small, but right now, she’s towering over him, staring down at him with something bright and yearning in her eyes, something that he’s sure is reflected in his own. He’d let his insecurities blind him to what right in front of him again, something beautiful. Something real. Something that was laid out before him, a destiny, ready for him to reach out and take it, a path for him to follow, but not alone. Never alone.

She must see the shift in his eyes, can read his heart clear as day, because her smile returns full force, and her arms spring up, landing squarely on both of his shoulders. It takes all he has not to collapse. 

She laughs, bright and bubbly, reverberating in her chest and shaking him with its power. “The best decision I ever made was in choosing you, Duck, and therefore I will continue to do so. If you will have me, Duck Newton, I would like to walk alongside you in this journey as well.”

“Alright, now you’re just layin’ it on too thick, c’mon honey,” he teases, breathless, heart feeling bouyant and stuttery and yes, yes, full of immeasurable love and respect and joy for this huge alien woman.

“I can lay it on as thickly as I so choose, Wayne Newton, for I am the master of my own destiny, as you said,” she says, teasing back, and now he knows for sure she’s doing it to annoy him, and he laughs, and curls his hands up to rest on top of Minerva’s, like a complete circuit, and his world rights itself.

“Oh shit.” Realization dawns on him, and he whirls to go retrieve his phone from the table— because he has to text Juno, oh god, they’ve gotta postpone, he’s gotta get Minerva a plane ticket, and can she even legally get a job— and runs smack dab into Leo,“oh shit!”

“Hey Duck,” he says, casually, glancing knowingly between the two of them. Duck wonders, mortified, how long he’d been standing there. “So. Need me to cat-sit?”

Minerva inserts herself between them, frantically shouting, “we are taking the cat!”

They do end up taking the cat to Brazil; getting her in the carrier is an endeavor in and of itself. But that aside, all other last-minute preparations go surprisingly smoothly. Minerva is ecstatic— turns out, she’d wanted to go with him all along, but she hadn’t wanted to annoy him by tagging along. She figured, with the sudden announcement, he’d made plans without her, which was fine, just caught her off guard. She likes to tell him that, over her course of thinking about it, she learned she simply considers him a constant, no matter what they’re doing, or where they are, at war, in peace, she wants to be where he is, and if he offered, her choice would be obvious, natural as breathing.

They were paired, she had said, by fate, but are bound by respect, admiration, and love. It’s not textbook romance, Duck doesn’t think, but it’s one of the sweetest sentiments he’s ever heard, and it’s one of the things that keeps looping through his mind on the trip down, a positive feedback loop that has him slouching, dazed and smiley, in his tiny airplane seat, hat brim pulled down low. Old habits die hard- they’d surely get new uniforms at their new service center, but for now, the thing is a comfort. Juno’s dozing, leaning up on his shoulder, probably drooling. He looks a little to his right; Minerva’s got the window, gazing out at the clouds as they fly by. She’s practically glowing— and hell, she might actually be, there’s still so much to learn about her— but she turns when she feels his eyes on her. Backlit by the sun, she smiles, and Duck, in his life of uncertainty, of fighting his way through everything thrown his way, has never been more sure of anything. He settles back into his seat, and rests, hurtling into the unknown with an uncharacteristic confidence. For the first time, he’s running to something, instead of away from everything. Hell yeah, he thinks. Bring it on. 

[talesfromthebandgeekmafia]

Ducknerva really has me legitimately considering writing fanfiction for the first time since I was 8

[lenjaminmacbuttons]

Hope you’re doing okay, I know there’s been a lot going on the past couple weeks. 🌈🌈💛💛

FOOF YOU CAN SAY THAT AGAIN

thank you for the good vibes anon, i love you and it means a lot to me. however unfortunately now im gonna use this to vent dump exactly how much has been going on the past couple weeks off the top of my head. this is actually pretty far from Everything thats happen but im so tired and dont want to think about any of it anymore

my grandma passed away last week. we were prepared for it and we know she’s at peace in a better place et cetera et cetera, her body was all full of restraints & impediments that she doesnt have to deal with anymore and the next time she’s in a body it’ll be all New And Improved and awesome. i missed so much work in anticipation of this that now i can’t get work off on the day of the funeral, so i can still go to it but i’ll have to go immediately to work right from it and have to pretend everythings fine and dandy and nothings going on.

everyone at work Does know there’s something going on however and the two coworkers i have who are actually like i consider them friends mostly they’re all like Hey Im Here For You Talk About Your Feelings Honestly with me and i. dont. want. to talk about my feelings at work. thats not what work is for and i dont like talking about my feelings anyway and i dont want them to ask anymore

the changes to the handbook and the honor code have completely sunk my heart. i had so much hope up until those hideous ridiculous unfathomably transphobic things they wrote and now i don’t feel like i can trust or have hope in ANYTHING the institution does anymore. ive been up all night going back and forth over whether i want to go to church today. or ever again. it’s not bringing me joy. it’s making me feel anxious and depressed and frustrated and alone. i keep seeing people just on the street or on facebook who are so happy and content with the church and whatever it does and i just…i get struck every single time with this thought of “they don’t care about me. they don’t care about any of these problems. they’re not affected personally by it and so they don’t care.”

and then that makes me feel like such a hypocrite because!!! ive been them too for so long!! what makes this moment so different!!!!! why is this the straw that breaks the camel’s back when the camel should have thrown off the whole burden and run to join its friends at the first strike of the owner’s whip!!!!!!

plus it’s making me feel gross about my mormon memes blogs. idk if i can keep running those anymore.

im failing this semester anyway and i keep getting emails about it. i was planning to take a break from school After this semester but ive missed so much class that i just really can’t go back to any of them so i guess im just dropping out right now. as much as i’d love to participate in all the incredible amazing protests going on right now i really really cant be on campus at all without feeling literally physically ill. and my Hope was to do really well this last semester and then submit mission papers and that way i’d know exactly what next to do with my life until i decide what After, and id be able to Get Out somewhere and travel someplace while still feeling like my life has some semblance of structure and direction. however! HOWEVER!!!!!!!!

i’ve been feeling so, so horrible and so worn down and i dont even know where or what my testimony is anymore. but that’s probably a lot lower on the list of Why I Can’t Serve A Mission, because a. i still don’t trust my Local Bishop enough to talk to him about things The Handbook says to b. i am finding it harder and harder and harder to be perceived as female. i never really have dysphoria about my body or my presentation or anything but like, when people say Sister and Ma’am and Miss and Daughter and Hey Pretty Lady It’s Me Your Relief Society President it’s like…that’s not me. that feels gross. and i wear suits and ties to church, have done so for a while and never get any flak for it, and im gradually working up the nerve to maybe start introducing myself as lev or levi instead of lillie buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut. socially transitioning apparently is not allowed.

not to mention my temple recommend expired ages ago anyway. anxiety about bishops prevented me from ever going in for an interview to renew it. i haven’t visited the temple once since before graduating high school. but every time i see it or think about it i long for it so badly and it hurts so much.

and also like, i get that same kinda horrible regretful longing feeling whenever i hear violin music? because i played violin for a few years and then stopped but i still have the instrument because it was given to me by my grandmother. who played it herself until sickness wouldn’t let her anymore and she entrusted it to me and i Stopped Playing but then i hoped to pick it up enough to at least learn how to play her favorite song and aw wouldn’t that be so nice to play that for her on her violin except i never actually got around to printing out the sheet music or practicing At All. and now she’s gone.

and one of the last things she said to me was that she would love to hear my book since her eyesight was too gone to read it so i said i’d record it as soon as i got the right software/hardware to do that and then i never did that either. also i promised alla yalls that book would be Published Published coming up on four months ago now and i still haven’t done that

i took a pair of safety scissors to my forearms as mentioned in a previous post and surprise surprise, the lines have not healed still, it’s getting warmer outside and thus harder to wear long sleeves, and guess what! a while ago on a separate occasion i complained that i kinda wished my self harm scars looked more like the classic cutter lines and Now They Do!! And I Hate It!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and a couple nights ago my little sister saw them and so i told her i got attacked by a spider-pawed bear and fortunately my brother Understands and backed me up like “dang what do they teach in schools these days i cant believe youve never heard of the spider-pawed bears that live in the mountains and are totally normal and real”

and steven universe is ending. that’s a thing.

and like….okay. not everything in my emotions right now is bad. some of it is just complicated. one coworker friend i have recently confessed that she’s had a crush on me for several months now. fortunately when she said this i was able to be honest and say that im not super eager for a relationship right now, im not ready in the slightest to settle down or anything, im still hung up on my high school crush and also dealing with issues from my last relationship, and she replied that’s all perfectly fine and she doesn’t have any expectations and she’s great being friends and we can take things at whatever pace is good

except i also now have a date with said high school crush loosely planned for tomorrow and i told this coworker friend about it and she admitted it’s making her a little jealous and then she said jealous is an ugly word and amended it to Insecure and i feel bad about that

but i also like. am really excited for this date. like it’s not really a for sure romantic capital-d Date and that’s fine, but i haven’t seen this friend irl for so long and ive been missing her so much over this past little while that we’ve been internet chatting and that ive been i guess officially falling back in love with her but i also like, i dont know what her deal is romantically right now i don’t want to presume anything but i really really really am itching to see her

work is stressful. it’s only gonna get more so as weather gets warmer. but we’re getting two new managers with loads of experience and glowing reviews next week. i have hope that they’ll makes things a little lighter.

and there’s also. good things. peridot took off her visor for the first time ever in canon and i saved like 50 different gifs of it to my computer cus it rocked my world. sonic has she-ra toys for the kids meals and i managed to snag a tiny inflatable version of the sword. i’m making cosplays of the tres horny boys from the adventure zone and they’re all very exciting and making things makes me very very happy. i’m finding joy in all the fanfictions i’m writing right now and in talking about dungeons & dragons with my brothers and friends. ducknerva is a very beautiful Good Ending version of marahope which makes me happy and taako is a super effective projection outlet. i bought cupcakes today and they were delicious. and when i think about those good things, when i think about any good thing no matter how small, everything else disappears.

whatever happens happens i guess.

she who lives will see.

[epersonae]

Fic asks: multiples of 5?

Ma'am. Pls. But sure, I don't actually have anything better to do today

How many words do you write per day? I don't have anything you'd call a set writing pace???? at the height of my original TAZ writing, I was probably clocking better than 1500/wpd, but then I didn't write fic for like two years, more or less (yay pandemic! yay cancer! yay grief!) but also yesterday I did kick out better than 1500 words of OFMD, so here we are.

Origin of your username? Awfully enough, sort of came from my ex-husband, and also long enough ago that at this point it might as well be my actual legal name. I don't remember the exact story anymore tho.

Do you ever delete works? I haven't so far!

Do you write in your native language? Yes. (I am regretting losing the Spanish cussing skills of my late teens now that I'm writing OFMD fic and trying to get Jim's dialogue down.)

An neglected work you wished you would finish? There's three that sort of haunt me:

Lupcretia smut that is part of what Ryn and I referred to as "The Dramaz" that I last remember working on in October 2019 (also I don't know that I'll ever have the heart to go back to that narrative thread)

The "Burnsides Island" fic, which is about Taako visiting after Lucretia dies, and also there's the ghost of a little girl (named after you!), and I think I have to completely rewrite the beginning based on what I know now about grief (and kinda wish I didn't), but if I do it'll be the final installment of "the only life you could save"

sweetness follows, which is the ducknerva post-canon fic that I started thinking "if Ryn doesn't know I have a crush on them after reading this fic I will have failed as a writer" and mannnnn I dunno if I can do it but also I really wanna

First fandom your write fanfiction for? The Adventure Zone Balance, baybeeeee. Forty-two goddamn years old and had never, and I started reading, and then fucking Stolen Century happened, and my brain exploded.

Longest fic you ever wrote? The Reckoning Arrives takes the prize on that one. Without looking it up, something like 75k? A wholeass novel.

What do you think your writing speciality is? I just asked you lol and you said "pain with a payoff" and I was like huh but perhaps you are right, as I think over both the TAZ stuff and the OFMD that I'm working on now. (And also this gets me thinking about the plot thread I'm having trouble with!) I know there was a time when "porn with feelings" was kind of my brand also, which I guess is the same thing expressed the opposite way lolololol.

A fic you look forward to writing in the future? I'm in the middle of a big one right now, so I don't know if I have something in mind for after that.

Is there something you often repeat in your fics (a verb, a trope etc)? Does Taako and Lucretia smoking weed together count? I would not have expected that of me, but here we are.

[holla-pain-yo]

Hey! If you like duck and Minerva, check out this fic by my girlfriend!

[patriciasage]

three’s company

Author: Patricia_Sage

Fandom: The Adventure Zone - Amnesty

Pairing: Indrid Cold / Minerva / Duck Newton

Summary:

Indrid looks up from his sketchbook just before Minerva speaks. “Are you romantically interested in Duck Newton?” she asks.

He finishes drawing the texture on Duck’s cheek and sets the pen down. Indrid tilts his head, red glasses glinting in the florescent lights. “Yes,” he says calmly, “You are as well.”

[chapter posted in full under the break, or you can read on AO3]

Chapter 1/7

The hospital waiting room is quiet except for Ned’s soft snoring. His head is tilted back on the plastic chair, mouth open like a baby bird. Aubrey’s music is barely audible to the others in the room, but much too loud within her ears. There’s a faint scratching of pen on paper as Indrid draws in his sketchbook, watched curiously by Minerva seated next to him.

Their conversation has been spent, replaced with this noisy silence. There’s only so much to be said when the monsters have been killed. Aubrey doesn’t know how they made their way into the portal between Sylvain and Earth, since they were not from either planet. It’s been months since the Pine Guard have wielded their weapons, and they were a little out of practice.

Of course, the monsters had appeared in the Monongahela where a certain forest ranger was patrolling. Without Beacon, Duck had no way to defend himself. He did his best with what he had on his belt and what could be weaponized from the forest floor, but the three monsters overpowered him. Even with Indrid’s foresight, he and Minerva had gotten there too late.

The doctor said he would be alright. Duck had a concussion and a few broken bones, and his friends had some revenge. Now, all they can do is wait.

Indrid looks up from his sketchbook just before Minerva speaks. “Are you romantically interested in Duck Newton?” she asks.

He finishes drawing the texture on Duck’s cheek and sets the pen down. Indrid tilts his head, red glasses glinting in the florescent lights. “Yes,” he says calmly, “You are as well.”

Minerva nods. “Yes.”

“Hm.” The two of them cast their gazes forward, thinking.

Aubrey speaks up. One of her earbuds is resting against the pins on her jean jacket. “He likes both of you.”

“Oh?” Minerva says. She straightens in her chair, looking impossibly large next to Indrid’s tall but skinny frame.

“He likes you both,” Aubrey says through a yawn. “It’s been driving him crazy for the past few weeks. He doesn’t know how to choose.” Indrid says the last sentence in unison with her.

Minerva shrugs. “Back on my planet he would not have to. Alas.”

Indrid nods. “The insect folk on Sylvain also do not prioritize monogamy.”

They make eye contact and consider each other for a second. Minerva takes a breath but Indrid speaks first. “You don’t wish to be romantically involved me.”

“Correct.”

“I don’t wish to be romantically involved with you, either.”

Aubrey takes her other earbud out, looking curiously between the two while an electric guitar whispers from her lap.

Minerva turns to face Indrid as best she can in the plastic, hospital chair. “I would be pleased if we both were romantically involved with Duck Newton. I have high respect for you as a friend, a prophet, and a warrior, Indrid Cold.”

Indrid smiles, showing all of his teeth in his unnerving way. “The future just got a lot more interesting.”

[patriciasage]

Title: i could never get the hang of thursdays

Author: Patricia_Sage

Fandom: The Adventure Zone - Amnesty

Pairings: Minerva/Duck Newton

Summary: "Do you know what marriage is?" Duck asks one evening.

[posted in full below the break, but you can find me on AO3!]

"Do you know what marriage is?" Duck asks one evening.

He is leaned up against Minerva on the couch, her strong legs on either side of his body and her arms holding him close. He can feel the rumbling in her chest against his back whenever she laughs. They're watching Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, although Duck stopped paying attention to it a while ago.

Minerva reaches for the remote and presses the pause button. She always does this whenever they talk during a movie or a song, no matter how small the comment. She told him it's because she wants to focus all of her attention on him and what he has to say. "No, I am not familiar with the word," she responds.

"Well. It's, um." Duck collects his thoughts, gently running his fingers down Minerva's arm wrapped around him. "It's somethin' that people do to, uh, show they love each other. Well. It's more than that. It's- they do it to, uh...prove? I guess. To prove there's no one else in the world they can see themselves lovin'."

Minerva squeezes him a little with her arms. "Do we have marriage?"

Duck's chest feels warm and full, like it's about to spill over. "Nah, we're not married. It's a, um, ceremony. Where you make promises and such. And, usually, you bring your friends and family 'round to see it."

"Then let us gather our friends and family!" Minerva declares.

Duck chuckles and turns around in her arms, their chests pressed together. "It's kind of a big deal, Min. It's not somethin' you do on a Thursday night after work."

"What about a Friday night after work?"

Duck buries his face in Minerva's neck and wraps his arms around her. "I've done a real shit job of explainin' this. God, you're cute. But we can't just get married."

"Why not? I love you, Duck Newton! There is no one else in the world I want to love." She tilts his face up and Duck knows she can feel his heartbeat through his chest. "Do you not want to have marriage with me?"

"God. I mean, yeah, I wanna marry you, Minerva. But this isn't how this goes. It's a big fuckin' deal."

"Are there more components to this ceremony than you have told me?"

"Well, usually there's a proposal - that means you officially ask them to marry you and you give them a ring that they can wear on this finger." He points to the ring finger on his left hand and Minerva points to the one on her right. "This one," he corrects, touching her left hand. She laces their fingers together with a smile. "But, Minnie, it's somethin' you gotta think about for a while."

"Why?"

He tries to calm himself with the rise and fall of her chest. "Because... You gotta be sure that the person is the one for you. That you're not gonna wanna be with someone else, down the road."

She startles him with a hearty laugh. "Why would I want to be with another, Duck Newton? You are brave and strong, a protector of forests and humans alike. You are kind and beautiful. No one could compare to you."

Duck bites his lip. "Goddammit, Minerva. How did I get so lucky?"

"It wasn't luck - it was destiny!" She gently runs her fingers through his hair. "And I implanted a wormhole in your brain."

"Fuckin' best thing that ever happened to me," Duck mumbles. He's not as good with his words as she is, but he kisses her with all the love he can muster. She seems to understand.

***     ***     ***

A little over a week later, Minerva bursts into the ranger station just as Juno and Duck are trading shifts. She's still in her trainer uniform from Darrrylll's Bait & CrossFit. Duck and Juno look up from the computer. "Minerva, hey!" Duck greets her with a smile.

She strides up to the desk, grinning. "Duck Newton! I am prepared for the proposal!" Duck stares at her as she extends her arm forward, brandishing a gold ring in between her fingers. Juno chokes on her drink of coffee. "Have marriage with me!" Minerva commands.

"Are you sure?" Duck asks.

Minerva places both hands on the desk and stares intently down at him. "Yes!"

All Duck can do is nod and laugh before cradling her face and kissing her. Juno cheers.