#duh are we all just going to turn off our brains so we can simplify and strawman even further?

[willow-salix]

Day 16 of Isolation on Tracy Island 2.0

I went into lecture mode today and for good reason. Those little sods that John calls his brothers are evil I tell you, pure evil, more evil than they claim me to be.

“What are you watching?” I asked. I’d just had a nice, relaxing bath and wandered into the lounge in search of some company and attention and maybe a cuddle or two with anyone that was available. But no, they were all camped out in the lounge, watching a movie and ignoring me.

I did my usual, which was grab snacks and drop down in the middle of one of the Tracy piles and get comfy. Virgil obligingly lifted an arm for me to cozy up under and Alan stuck his hand in my pringles tub.

“What are we watching?” I asked again.

“Tangled,” Gordon answered. “It’s just started so you haven't missed much.”

“Isn’t that an old Disney movie?” I asked, wracking my brains to remember which one, because there had been millions, but in general we were all in agreement that the older ones were by far the best.

“Yeah, the one with the hair.” Ahh, yeah, that rang a bell somewhere in my brain. 

“You mean Rapunzel?” I thought back and the mists of time cleared, yep, I remembered it now. I'd watched it a few times when I was younger, it had been a favourite of a friend's sister and was always on when I visited. I hadn't thought about it in years. 

“Tangled,” Alan corrected me, like that really made a difference.

I shrugged and settled down again to watch, it would be nice to revisit some old memories. 

“She just stole that child!” Alan yelled a few minutes later.

“What do you expect?” Gordon said. “She’s gotta be a wicked witch, that’s what witches do.”

I raised an eyebrow at this but said nothing, it was hardly their fault that this was how the media had been portraying witches for hundreds of years. Something goes wrong and poof, there’s a witch, let’s blame her.

“You can tell she’s really evil because she’s so pretty,” Scott said, munching on a small stack of MY pringles that Alan had sneakily passed him because I’d banned Scott from eating any more.

“So it’s the pretty ones?” I asked, a slight warning tone in my voice that apparently none of them noticed. I could understand that this might be how they were brought up but surely they didn’t really think that, did they?

“Yep.”

“It’s always like that, Maleficent was pretty, so was the Evil Queen and the Enchantress in Beauty and the Beast. It’s the pretty ones that are the most dangerous, because they don’t look evil.”

“So, by this logic all witches are evil?”

“Well, duh, they’re the bad guys,” Alan drawled.

“Good to know,” I snapped, dragging myself up from the couch.

“Where are you going?” Virgil asked when I ducked out from under his arm. “Don’t you want to watch with us?”

“No.”

They all looked at me, quite confused.

“I have no real desire to sit here and be insulted, thank you.”

“Insulted? No one insulted you,” Scott said, clearly bemused by my statement, but wasn’t that just the way of it? I didn’t bother replying, just turned away and headed for the door, dodging past John who was coming up the stairs as I started down them.

“Hi, did you forget something?” he asked.

I shook my head and carried on down the stairs.

“Aren’t you staying for the movie?” he called after me.

I didn’t answer, honestly I was too annoyed. What I needed was a long walk to clear my head. I’ll let John continue the story.

                            ***

I’m used to being ignored, but never by my own wife unless I had done something to annoy her, and in this instance I was pretty certain that I was in the clear. That left only one culprit, actually, make that five culprits.

“What did you guys say to her?” I asked as soon as I entered the lounge.

“Nothing,” they all chorused, all looking so perfectly innocent.

“Really?” I didn’t believe them for a second.

“Really,” Virgil assured me. Him I was inclined to believe so I tried another tactic.

“Talk me through what happened?” I sighed, setting down my coffee and taking a seat, giving them my best ‘don’t lie to me’ look.

“Honestly, we didn’t do anything,” Scott said. “We were watching the movie, she came to join us and asked about the movie so we told her.”

“What movie is it?” I asked, glancing at the screen but not recognising it.

“Tangled,” Alan supplied.

“So you only talked to her about Tangled?” 

“Yeah, that and a couple of other movies,” Gordon shrugged. “She was fine.”

“She didn’t look fine just now,” I argued. “Did she say anything before she left that might give me a clue? Because I’m kinda flying blind here.”

“Nothing,” Alan said. “Only something ridiculous about not wanting to sit here and be insulted.”

“You insulted her?” I sighed. “What the hell? I left you alone for precisely 4.36 minutes and you managed to insult her so much that she stormed off? What did you say to her?”

“Nothing!” Scott insisted.

I turned to Virgil for help.

“They were talking about how that lady,” he paused and pointed at the screen.

“Mother Gothel,” Gordon supplied.

“Thank you. How Mother Gothel," he continued," must be a witch because she stole the child and is pretty.”

Ah, that made a little more sense, well, some of it, part of it was still confusing the hell out of me and that doesn’t happen that often. I am not easily confused. “Because she was pretty?” 

“Yeah, like we told her, all of the pretty ones are the really wicked witches, you can always tell.”

I dropped my head into my hands, unable to believe just how insensitive and dumb they could be sometimes. I knew that they loved her as one of our own and wouldn’t insult her on purpose,  but if they actually used their brains occasionally they would be dangerous. 

“So, let me get this straight,” I started. “You told my wife, my decidedly not ugly wife, who happens to be a witch, that witches are always evil, especially the good looking ones?”

“No, we-” Scott paused as it sank in. “Oh, God.”

“Yes,” I agreed. 

“We didn’t mean it about her!” Gordon protested.

“We wouldn’t think that,” Alan agreed.

“My wife, who is here to help us all, giving up her free time when she could be relaxing in her own home, where I could be with her I might add,” I looked at them pointedly. “The wife, who is nothing but nice and loving to you, you insulted her.”

“Not on purpose.”

“I didn’t,” Virgil said, lifting an arm. “I was her pillow.”

“You are excused,” I nodded. “The rest of you will wait until I’ve found her and then you will make it up to her.”

I got up, still shaking my head at just how insensitive they had been and went to find her.

                                           ***

It was Kayo that tracked me down first, well, kinda. I was walking one way along the beach and she was running the other, we kinda just met up in the middle.

“S’up?” she asked, pausing in her jogging. Me, I was slow walking, meandering, like a snail with luggage. I’d started off power walking under the power of pure annoyance but now that had faded to be replaced by hurt feelings and with it had vanished my motivation for anything exercise based.

“Nothing much,” I answered.

“I thought you’d be in there with the others," she said."They wanted to watch some disney cartoon so I thought I’d get some training in, this enforced down time can be terrible for the fitness levels.”

I made a noise that could be agreement but was also pretty non-committal, I knew that giving her too much encouragement would have her trying to make me train with her again. Once was enough, I almost died.

“You’re not normally this quiet, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, I’m just a bit annoyed, that’s all,” I said, brushing away her concern.

“What did they do this time?”

“Nothing.”

“Rubbish, I don’t believe you, plus I know they are idiots, so…”

“They were just a bit insensitive, that’s all…”

“And?”

“And insulting.”

She raised an eyebrow at that. “And what are you going to do about it?”

I waved a hand, gesturing to the beach. “I’m walking it off.”

“No, you’re going to go back in there and give them hell. Don’t let them get away with it. They won’t know what they have done wrong unless you tell them, and if they don’t get it after that you smack them until it sinks in.”

I bit my lip so I wouldn’t laugh, having a mental image of her sitting on Gordon to hold him down while I slapped at him.

“That idea has merit,” I conceded.

“Of course it does,” she continued to jog on the spot. “Are you coming back now or are you going to walk a bit longer? You could join me if you want?”

“Nah, I’m good thanks,” I flopped down on the sand. “I’m just going to sit here for a bit and watch the water.”

“Your loss,” she shrugged. “But remember what I said, make them listen, make them understand, whatever it takes.”

“Violence isn’t the answer to everything, Kay,” John said, appearing from a nearby path, his comm in his hand, obviously locating me with sneaky methods.

“Maybe not for you,” she tossed over her shoulder as she broke out into a run again, not bothering to say goodbye.

“You OK?” he asked, sitting down beside me.

“Yep, why does everyone keep asking me that? Can’t a wit- girl get some air without everyone launching an inquiry?” I said, correcting myself before I finished the W-word.

“A witch,” he said pointedly, “can do whatever she wants, but her husband has the right to be concerned when he finds out that his dumbass brothers have insulted her.”

I shrugged, not wanting to drag it all up again.

“They’re sorry,” he said, draping his arm around my shoulders to pull me into his side. “They didn’t mean it, they just weren’t thinking.”

“I know they didn’t mean it, well, not about me personally,” I sighed. “But that’s just how it is. Witches always get the bad rap. They wouldn't understand.”

“Then tell them, explain it to them.”

“Do you have any puppets?” I joked, leaning my head against his shoulder. “Because they might need it simplifying a bit, they are quite dumb.”

“No puppets I’m afraid, but I do have brothers that are very sorry and want you to come back so they can apologise.”

“Virgil is innocent.”

“Yeah, he said as much.” He dropped a kiss on the top of my head and stood up, offering me his hand. “Come on.”

I stared at his hand for a few moments, both trying to decide if I felt up for explaining and just because I liked to look at his hands. Finally I reached out and took it, letting him pull me to my feet.

                  ***

“We are so sorry!” Scott said the second we entered the lounge. Kayo was already seated in a chair and was watching with the kind of interest someone would use while observing animals in a zoo. I'm surprised she didn't have popcorn. 

"Yeah, we didn't mean it, not about you, you're great," Alan added. 

"We'd never think you were evil," Gordon promised. 

"No, but you'd think it about others," I answered, not wanting to let them off too easily. I'd promised John and Kayo that I'd explain it to them and explain I would. 

"We live in a multicultural world," I began. "And the world has changed so much in the last hundred or so years. Now racism and intolerance is frowned upon and people are understanding that everyone is equal and valid regardless of race or religion, right?"

They all nodded, John included, although I don't honestly know why since he hadn't done anything wrong. 

"And if someone was to assume that a person was bad based on their religion that would count as intolerant?"

They nodded again. 

"It shouldn't matter what colour, race, culture or religion someone is, they should all be treated with respect, right?" 

"Obviously, we never discriminate, we'll save anyone that needs it, we don't pick and choose. Every life is valid," Scott said.

"Yet my religion is different?" 

"Of course not!"

"Then why is it that we're the ones that are always picked on? My religion is one of the oldest in the world, we date back before Buddhism, Judaism, Christianity, Hinduism, Islam, pretty much any religion you can think of. But we've had thousands of years of persecution and intolerance, including being portrayed as the bad guy in almost every single fairy tale out there."

"We know you're not evil," Alan promised me. 

"I know you do, because you know me. But that doesn't change the fact that in modern media we are still used as a cheap, easy and believable villain. But does anyone ever think of it from the witches point of view?" 

They shook their heads, probably because they were now looking a little scared of me. 

"Let me tell you another version of this story," I said, gesturing to the movie that was paused on the holoprojector. 

John patted the seat between him and Virgil (who hadn't done anything wrong and was therefore safe to sit with) and I dropped down with a sigh. 

"Where to begin," I pondered out loud. "I'm not going to introduce anyone, I'm just going to dive straight in." I settled down, getting into storytelling mode. 

The wicked witch sat in her garden looking out over the rows of flower beds and her beloved vegetable patches that she was so proud of and sighed, a long, deep and very sad sigh.

She was getting on in years and was feeling lonelier with each passing day. Not that she would ever admit that to anyone, especially not the other witches round the cauldron. They were wicked witches and were expected to shun human emotions and feelings and just get on with their work, creating chaos, cursing newborn children and all the other things that take up your day. 

A small noise pulled her from her thoughts. She looked up, squinting in an effort to focus, her eyesight not what it used to be. She saw a man trying, not very stealthily, to climb over her garden wall. She stayed where she was, almost hidden from view and watched him, curious as to what he was planning.

He dropped to the floor with a grunt and a muffled curse. She tried not to giggle, it was so unwitch like, witches did not giggle, they cackled evilly as was expected of them. She watched the man as he looked around and slowly snuck his way towards her Rapunzel plants. She lifted one eyebrow at his daring. So that was where they were disappearing to, and to think she had blamed the slugs.

As she watched he bent to pick some of the tasty leaves and stuffed them into a sack he was carrying. Well this wouldn’t do, she was a wicked witch for pity’s sake, if word got out that it was OK for the villagers to enter her garden willy nilly and steal her greens she'd never live it down. It took a lot of work to cultivate the fear that was needed to get even the slightest bit of respect and she wasn't about to let all her hard work go to waste. 

She slowly stood up, ignoring the protest of her aching bones and raised her wand, casting a powerful binding spell at him. The man instantly froze and dropped to the ground, groaning, his limbs locked together. Taking her time the witch made her way over to the man.

“What do you think you are doing, creeping into my garden and stealing my vegetables,” she demanded to know, scowling at him, putting on her best scary witch face.

The man looked terrified, as well he should, his eyes bulging out of his head. 

“Please, don’t hurt me," he begged. “I meant no harm. It's my wife, she is expecting our first child and was desperate for some of your Rapunzel. She's been unwell and cannot stomach anything else, her cravings are something else. She threw a bowl at my head yesterday because I didn't get her any." Come to think of it, he did look a little weary. 

The witch’s brain kicked into gear. Maybe this was a way of still being wicked but getting what she wanted too. She'd done her best, she'd tried being nice, but as usual no one had listened to her when she had given them her dire warnings of crop blight and mad cow disease and when her predictions had inevitably come to pass, she'd been blamed for that too. Good guys never prospered when the world had already made up its mind about you.

With a wave of her wand she lifted her spell, allowing the binding to drop away, releasing the man.  When she spoke she made sure her face was as pleasant as possible, her voice sickly sweet.

“Is that so? Well that is completely different. If you need it for your wife, then of course you may take as much as you want. Help yourself,” she smiled gently , showing a number of her broken teeth, looking as innocent and old ladylike as possible. “I only ask for one thing in return.”

The man, looking very relieved, scrambled to his feet, his cap in his hands. “Of course, anything, I will do anything you wish of me, just name it and it shall be done, it shall be yours.”

The witch continued to smile as she dropped her bombshell, already picturing his reaction. That was the problem with the people of the world, they thought they could take whatever they wanted, preying on the good nature of others while never offering a thing in return unless they had no choice. 

“Oh, it’s only a little thing. In exchange for the Rapunzel that your wife needs to get through her pregnancy, you will give me the baby when it is born.” She stood back and watched with pleasure as his face drained of all colour and his mouth dropped open.

“I … no…I can't…you can’t,” he shook his head in denial.

“Oh, but I can, ” the witch replied. “You said you would do anything. The deal is made.” She used her powers to pick him up and drop him back over the garden wall.

The witch smiled, pleased with herself. Now that was truly wicked.

Months passed and soon the witch heard the distant sound of a baby crying from the neighbouring house. Impatient to see her new child she jumped on her broom and flew straight over.

Banging on the door she took immense pleasure from the look of horror on his face as well as his wife's.

Barging her way past him she scooped up the baby in her arms, cradling it carefully.

“I have come for what is rightfully mine. I hope you enjoyed your Rapunzel,” she told them, not giving them a chance to argue with her. 

Cackling evilly to keep up appearances, she hopped back on her broom and flew off with the child.

Years passed and the child, a little girl, whom the witch named Rapunzel after the plant that had caused all the trouble, grew into a beautiful young lady. 

The witch loved her like a daughter but knew that Rapunzel had never felt the same way about her. Being a wicked witch was not all it was cracked up to be, being mean all the time and doing evil deeds was draining, leaving her grumpy by the end of the day when she returned home to their little cottage. 

Having wicked friends who hated Rapunzel didn't help matters much either. They couldn't understand why the witch had wanted her, why she had wanted a child at all. Children were a nuisance, a bargaining chip to use against Kings and Queens or local villages, not for keeping like a pet. Stick with the cat, her friends had said, or a nice toad, that was the way to go. 

Unfortunately that meant that Rapunzel had to look after herself for the majority of the day. She spent a lot of her time daydreaming, reading story books about handsome princes who would whisk the princess away from the evil witch. The witch, who blamed herself for signing her up for the local library and allowing her a weekly visit into town, had begun to worry that the day would come that she would lose her.

Scared, she decided the time had come for more drastic measures. The witch created a tower which had no stairs and only one room, high up at the top with just one window. She flew Rapunzel up on her broom and left her there.

Every day the witch would visit her, calling up to the top of the tower, where the girl sat waiting.

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair, so I may climb without a stair.” She'd watch as Rapunzel wrapped her long braid around a hook on the window sill and let her hair drop to the ground.

Catching hold of the end, the witch would begin to haul herself up the side of the tower. Sure she could have flown up but in her advancing years she needed any exercise she could get and she'd always had a fondness for mountain climbing. 

Every time the witch visited Rapunzel she couldn't help but notice that the girl was getting sadder and sadder. Trying to help, the witch brought her little treats, like a kitten to keep her company, new books and lots of good things to eat that they could share. 

After a few weeks she began to see a change in her. Rapunzel looked happier, even laughing at the witch's attempts at a joke. Pleased that her gifts had helped the witch always left content in the knowledge that the most important person in the world to her was happy. 

One evening, a week or so into this new period of peace, saw the witch huffing and puffing her way up the side of the tower. Cursing all the sweet treats they had been eating that had caused her to put on a few too many pounds, the witch slowed to catch her breath, and heard Rapunzel muttering to herself.

“Owww, damn it, the prince doesn’t hurt when he climbs up.

The witch stopped dead and looked up, anger simmering through her blood. The Prince? There was a Prince now? Why was there always a Prince that came along to wreck the plans of hard working witches who just wanted to do their jobs and get home before the sun set? Was it too much to ask? 

She started climbing again and hauled herself in through the open window, flopping in an undignified heap on the floor. 

“What prince?” she demanded to know, getting to her feet and rounding on Rapunzel.

Rapunzel backed away, looking scared, something the witch hated to see. 

“The prince that comes to see me, ” she answered a goofy smile breaking out on her face. “He’s very handsome and said that he loves me.”

At her words the witch felt her heart break. Her fears had come true, she had lost her and to a Prince that no doubt seemed too good to be true but would inevitably hurt her girl. 

Well, she wasn’t going to take this lying down, she would protect her daughter if it was the last thing she did, even if it hurt her to do so, it was for her own good. Sometimes you had to be cruel to be kind. 

Blood boiling the witch threw herself at Rapunzel, grabbing a pair of scissors that was sitting next to Rapunzel's sewing work.

“We shall see about that.” The witch held her down and cut off her long braid. “You will never see that prince again.”

Still mad at the sheer cheek of the Prince and worried for her adopted daughter, the witch sat Rapunzel on her broom and took her to a lonely, desolate spot in a woods far away where a tiny cottage sat, with nothing but a cow and some chickens for company and left her there.

She was determined to teach the Prince a lesson, she was a wicked witch after all and it wouldn't do to let it be known that a Prince had snuck around with her daughter right under her nose and she'd done nothing. The witch went straight back to the tower and lay in wait for the Prince, certain that he couldn't keep away and would come back.

Soon enough she heard him calling out from the ground below.

 “Rapunzel, sweet beautiful Rapunzel, let down your hair, so I may climb without a stair.”

Cackling silently to herself as she looped the cut off braid around the hook on the windowsill, the witch let the hair slide from her hands down the side of the tower, unwinding as it went. 

She felt the prince beginning to climb up and waited, watching as his head eventually appeared in the window. Grabbing his shoulders before he could react and defend himself, she hauled him in through the open window.

The prince looked at her in shock but still tried to  reach for his sword.

“Where is Rapunzel?” he demanded. 

How dare he turn up to her tower, looking for her daughter and start throwing his weight around, making demands like he owned the place! The witch sneered at him, her lips twisting cruelly as she told him the truth.

“She is gone, and you will never see her again.”

"What did you do to her?" the Prince yelled, twisting out of her grip and succeeding in drawing his sword. 

For the first time the witch feared for her life, she wasn't a young witch and she'd left her wand in her other robe. Acting on pure instinct, needing to protect herself, and with offence being the best offence, she threw herself at the Prince. 

Catching him off guard, no one ever expected a flying witch, she planted her hands on his chest and with a great heave she shoved him away from her. 

The prince stumbled towards the window and almost in slow motion he toppled backwards out of the tower. 

Cursing the witch grabbed the windowsill and looked out, watching as he dropped like a stone to the ground, landing in a thorn bush. 

The Prince let out a blood curdling scream as the sharp thorns pierced his eyes, blinding him.

Ha! A wicked little voice piped up in her head, let him see her now, although she silenced it almost immediately. 

She watched as the prince stumbled away, clutching his face but, instead of pleasure at her actions she felt only pain, knowing that now she really had lost the one she had thought of as her daughter. 

"I have to make this right," she said to herself. All she had ever wanted was for Rapunzel to be happy and, from fear of losing her and wanting to protect her, the witch had only  succeeded in driving her further away.

Leaving the tower, the witch followed the prince, silently helping him, protecting him from harm, leading him towards Rapunzel.

Years passed, with the witch growing weaker and weaker by the day, travelling all over was playing havoc with her arthritis, until eventually the prince found Rapunzel again. 

She was living in miserable poverty, in her tiny cottage, scrounging for food in the woods. She was out in her garden, picking flowers when she happened to look up. Seeing the Prince wandering past, tapping his way along with a stick, a bandage over his eyes, she barely recognised him. He was filthy, his clothes almost rags and his hair unbrushed. But, when she did, her heart leapt with happiness. 

She rushed over to the gate, calling his name.

In a daze, the Prince turned his head in the direction of her voice, unable to believe his ears. He'd been living in darkness for so long he'd almost forgotten what it was like to feel joy. 

“Rapunzel?”

“Yes, my love, it's me!” she paused, seeing the bandages over his eyes up close. “What happened?” 

Gently she reached for the bandage, dodging his hands when he tried to stop her, and tugged the scrap of cloth from his face, gasping with shock when she saw his eyes staring blankly up at her.

The witch watched from behind a tree, still so deeply saddened that she had caused all this hurt simply because she was lonely and no one would give her a chance. From the moment she had been born as a witch her destiny had been decided for her. She hadn't wanted to be wicked, she just hadn't had a choice. It was expected of her. 

As the witch watched Rapunzel began to cry, her tears dripping down her face onto his. Smiling to herself, an idea forming, the witch waved her wand, giving Rapunzel the power of healing. As her tears dripped into his eyes, he blinked, his broken and scarred eyes clearing, to stare straight at her.

“I can see you,” he whispered, hardly able to believe it. 

"Really, truly?" 

He laughed, grabbing her tight. “Yes, I can really see you!”

With one last look the witch blew her beloved child a kiss and hopped back on her broom. Soaring into the air she left them behind, dancing with joy at their good fortune, knowing they would live happily ever after.

"The end," I said, finishing up my story. "What did you think?" 

"It was certainly different to any that I've ever heard," Virgil said when I was done. 

"That's the  point of the story," I said, wanting to hammer it home. "No one is born bad. Sometimes it's a vicious cycle, you know? People assume the worst of someone and they get judged, purely on who or what they are."

They nodded, having seen that at work before. 

"There is good and bad in all walks of life, in all countries and regions, it's not exclusive to one type of person. People get judged not on their actions as an individual, but on the actions of others, on falsehoods and stories spread about them," I continued. 

Seeing them all watching me and listening was a little hard. I loved them all, but they were used to me being my laughing, joking, happy self and in this I couldn't smile, I couldn't hide it inside and let it go. 

"When people assume the worst and make accusations it's only a matter of time before they get so fed up that they often end up doing the very things they have been accused of because they're just going to get blamed anyway. They will get treated like they are bad even if they aren't, so why keep fighting?"

I allowed John to take my hand, grateful for the comforting, supportive squeeze he gave it. 

"I know that you guys didn't mean anything you said in a negative way, I know you weren't directing it at me or even thinking of me that way. I know this is real life and not a movie, but the point is still the same. It's not your faults, because this is how you have been conditioned from years of movies that portray things like that. It's not just a silly movie it's history, it's happened with countless races and religions for hundreds of years, for as long as there has been books and propaganda and storytelling. There is always a bad guy."

I took a deep breath."Here's the thing, we have a duty, each and every one of us, to pay attention to the people around us, to think for ourselves and to judge people on their actions, on who they are not what they are. We all need to think before we speak, to consider who we might be hurting with our words and actions. In this you hurt me, because you didn't think, you just assumed and said what you've been taught to think. I know I probably took it way more seriously than I should have, but it hurt. And I can't apologise for my reaction." I shrugged, showing that I didn't have anything else left to say. 

"We really are sorry," Scott said, clearly feeling awful about what had happened. 

"Look, it's OK, I'm not blaming you, let's just forget it, alright? We'll watch the end of the movie and I'll stop being over sensitive," I said, just wanting it to be over. 

They all nodded gratefully and flicked the movie back on. I cuddled deeper into the couch between Virgil and John, wanting to relax. I'll probably make John finish the rest of today's entry too. 

          ***

"So she wasn't a witch after all?" Alan goggled, clearly unable to believe what they had seen. I wasn't surprised, he'd always been easily surprised and easily impressed, ever since he was a baby. He was the one excited about his own toes. 

"Nope, just a vain woman that used a bit of magic to her advantage and, rather than give it up, she opted to steal a child," the wife answered. She hauled upset up from the couch and stretched, her back cracking in a couple of places and I made a mental note to see if she wanted a back rub later, she deserved it after the day she'd had. "I'm gonna make a start on dinner."

My brothers are indeed idiots, but I could see that they were feeling terrible about their actions. It hadn't been malicious, it had just been thoughtless. In that she had been right, they should have thought more about who was there and what they were saying, just as they did in the field. 

Scott was the first to get up, catching her as she walked past, dragging her into a hug that the other two quickly joined in on, squashing her in the middle. 

"Can't…breathe," she whined but they ignored her, hugging her tighter. 

"We love you," Alan said from his spot squashed somewhere near Scott's left armpit. I wouldn't want to be there but if anyone deserved it right now it was him. 

"I love you numpties too."

"Forgive us? We promise we'll never assume anything ever again," Gordon promised. 

"I'll go out and get Chinese for dinner," Scott added to sweeten the pot and this time she actually laughed. 

"Deal."

"You gave in too easily," Kayo accused as she left the room to go and get changed. "I'm disappointed in you."

"Well, unfortunately I love these idiots so I didn't have much of a choice."

"So you say," Kayo shot back, but I could hear the smile in her voice. 

Everyone wandered off and I reclaimed my wife, pulling her back down onto the couch beside me. 

Honestly I was kinda impressed with how calm she'd stayed. She'd made her point and made it well, without the need to yell or throw things, which was a vast improvement to most arguments in this house. 

They had needed to hear it, they had listened and hopefully they had learned a little something, I know I certainly did. 

Note to self: when she's next mad at you, get Chinese food. 

[ahmedmootaz]

For the writing, How about some fluff between Donald and the kids? :)))

Dear Anonymous,

Hello! I did it! Hah! Take that, laziness, I wrote the thing someone requested!...Yeah, sorry about that. The whole delay. Both to you and to everyone who kindly sent me requests. As said before, short things aren’t my style, so I hope you enjoy this!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26468854

Do share your thoughts with me, if you would so kindly do that. I like receiving feedback.

Oh and for those of you that don’t want to go to Archive Of Our Own, here’s the magical Read More button:

Ah, McDuck Manor. It was a wonderful place, really. Its rooms were almost endless, the hallways spanned on for miles, and the collection of mostly lethal items and antiques that got expanded every other day certainly made it unique in a sense. It was where Donald Duck had spent most of his childhood, and it was often a pretty, if empty place.

Perhaps this was how monarchs envisioned their castles. Spotless, massive, elegant. Or perhaps this was...this was...oh, forget it! He wasn't good at descriptions anyway. What mattered was that this manor was large, expansive, eye-pleasing, and basically was everything Donald never had for the last twelve or so years. Though it was rather lonely at times.

Not the current times, however, as now it was privy to the footsteps of little paddles running around in it all the time, and Donald couldn't be happier about it. After all, who wouldn't be happy seeing his favourite little nephews running around happily in their new home? He still used his house-boat, admittedly for no real reason other than how hard he worked to get it, but the children were more than happy to stay in their new home, a castle in comparison to where they lived before.

Of course, Donald didn't get to see the kids much these days, what with their mother returning and all. He still couldn't believe it. Twelve years. Twelve years stuck on the moon because of a giant termite just had to rattle a dust storm. He honestly had to admire his sister's ability to not murder the thing and whatever hellspawn it had the moment she could. He would've. Maybe. Probably. He was still prone to fits of rage, but he felt the rage would've been justified at that moment.

Disregarding that, it was truly miraculous how the triplets loved Della so much. Duh, she was their mother, but they never saw her for twelve years. Not one single time. To them, she was the ghost they never asked questions about or he'd just remain silent and give whoever asked a glare. He truly feared that they may never get used to her as family. Luckily, however, a few near-death experiences and some adventures later, they learned to love her as what she truly was: Their mother.

At first, it alleviated some stress off of him, but then he realized he still needed to remain as mentor, not to the children, but to Della. She was doing a fine job, learning when to discipline and when to let things pass, but he still had to intervene to stop her from convincing Huey that crossing a piranha-infested river wasn't all that dangerous.

Still, whatever critiques he gave Della, his beloved sister had grabbed the boys' attention for the time being. He couldn't blame them; both as someone new and the person they longed for their entire lives, she was certain to outshine Donald as the parental-figure for the moment, something that he absolutely had no issues with. No issues at all. Nuh-uh. What, was he fifteen? He could handle being outside the lime light for a few weeks. Months. Whatever it took.

-"Yep...no issues whatsoever...", he mumbled to himself, listening to his distorted voice as it plopped unceremoniously with no echo. He was sitting in his house-boat's living room, situated in Scrooge's pool. He had to swallow quite a bit of ego to bring the boat this far, not because it necessitated Scrooge's help, oh no, that was the easy bit. The difficult bit was seeing the fact that his uncle's swimming pool was bigger than the boat he struggled to purchase.

Well, whatever. He could handle that. He handled many other situations that jabbed at his ego and you didn't see him crying. Not on the outside, anyway. He tapped rhythmlessly on the couch he sat on, sighing as he did so. Today was a slow day. A very slow day. No adventures, nothing that needed fixing, and Della seemed like she wasn't intent on putting herself in a life or death scenario, oddly enough. He was supposed to be happy about that, but honestly, it just bored him to death.

It wasn't as if the kids somehow left him and only sent him greeting cards, either. They, alongside Webby, saw him everyday, talked with him, but somehow...he felt like a third wheel. He didn't want to force himself in, but even if he wanted to, what would he do? He never had to go to the kids, they always went to him. He was watching something on his T.V. and trying to focus on it. It wasn't Ottoman Empire, surprisingly enough, it was something about...Uh...The African Penguin's migration to the island of Mayotte to save the world from the evil Lepoard Seals...? He rechecked the program. Ah. It was a movie. And here he was thinking it was a documentary.

Donald was a fan of movies. He really was. But today, he wanted to move and do something. Anything He thought about that last sentence for a split-second before deciding he'd do anything that isn't life threatening. Last thing needed was for Scroo- sorry, Unca' Scrooge to somehow read his mind and send him down the Mariana Trench to search for some old treasure. He still needed to remember that he was living with his uncle again, and as such, politeness was due. Even in thought, because you never know when you'll think out-loud.

 Knock Knock KNOCK!

He suddenly jumped. Well, not quite, he still ended up on the couch again, but he turned off the television, wondering if Mrs.Beakly was going to tell him he accidentally put an omelette on the mansion's cooker and then headed for his house-boat. He really didn't need to spend the afternoon putting out a fire before it reaches some mysterious artefact that shouldn't be touched. Not again. But at least it'll be something to do. He took a few quick steps, turned his door knob and opened it as quick as he could.

-"What is it, Mrs.Beakl-", he started, having thoroughly convinced himself that this was the situation before noticing nobody was in front of him.

-"Down here, Unca' Donald!", huh. How odd. She lost height and lost her deeper tone. He moved his head down, suddenly realizing the past conclusion was probably made by some part of his brain that decided intelligence is for losers. The red hues immediately told him all he needed to know. It was Huey, accompanied by Webby, an overexcited smile on her face and her eyes practically glowing. She was cute, but also...unnerving?

-"Oh, Huey.", he brought a hand to his forehead, suddenly feeling very relieved he was not going to spend an afternoon putting out a fire. "What brings you here? Do you need more information on the Marines? The Navy?", he asked, bringing a smile to his beak.

Admittedly, his time in the Navy was cut short because his sister suddenly disappeared into space, swallowed by the unknown dark abyss, and so he never really got to experience most of the...fun action the Navy got itself into these days. Still, he had enough knowledge to satiate Huey's thirst for information, and Webby's too, if the way her pupils dilated was any proof. He felt smug; he still had it in him.

-"Well, not really, I needed some help inside the mansion. I need someone to hold me some test subjects so that I can confirm whether or not the temporal anomalies the building sustained throughout the time changed the surrounding gravity or not. It would certainly explain why I've been having difficulties with liquids far more often now.", the younger Duck started, losing himself in an explanation that Donald tried to simplify into simpler terms. Huey's intelligence was most certainly gained from his mother's side. It wasn't that Donald was dumb, per say, it's that Huey was smart. Too smart for any duck his age.

-"Okay then.", the older Duck replied, happy to be of help. He took a few steps forward, closing the door behind him. Expecting a nod of acknowledgement from Huey, it was Webby instead who started speaking.

-"Hello Mr.Duck Unca' Donald sir!", she jumped in front of him, somehow managing to stick the landing and continue on walking backwards. Donald loved Webby. He truly did, as any responsible adult would love a girl her age with such a bubbly personality, but he couldn't ever shake off the feeling that there was something a little...off in her. He always shrugged it off as her superior training, and so he did at this instant. He wasn't one to make the poor girl feel alien, she already had difficulty with everyone else. "While we're on our way to test the stability of the mansion, do you mind telling me what the world's greatest adventurer did in the Navy? How many bad guys did you beat up? Did you have to stop Glomgold or Magica in the Navy? Did you fire guns? Are dreadnoughts still in action?", she shot question after question at the overwhelmed sailor as they entered the massive house.

-"Well...uh...I mean, they still have battleships. We don't have dreadnoughts.", he began, following Huey to the triplets' room. "As for my work...I had training. Aim-improvement firing sessions. I think I had an encounter or two with those chumps in The Navy, but it didn't really change anything; they still lost, after all.", he boasted, taking in Webby's amazed glare as he entered Huey's room, having gone up the stairs that lead to it.

-"Alright Unca' Donald, hold this tube for me, alright? Tell me if anything happens to the water inside it.", the cap-wearing duckling handed the former-sailor a tube of water. He was expecting it to be a bit more...interesting, but as he stared at it, he found nothing. Just a tube of water. "Now this could take anywhere from an hour to two, so if you think you can't do it-"

-"What? Pffft, of course I can do it! I can do anything!"

-"That's mom's catchphrase.", a lazy voice announced from his bed. It would've made Donald jump had he not been used to it. It did, however, ruin his dramatic affirmation.

-"Well, yes, but since I'm her twin, I have the right to use half of the things she says, Louie.", his uncle answered, not without some dignity. The hoodie-wearing duckling slowly rose from his bed, laying his laptop beside him as he stared at the sight unfolding in front of him.

-"Do you have legal documents for that? Because I believe you may have just broken a copy-right agreement, which could allow one to sue for monetary compensation...", of course, con-man that he is and trying to be sharper than the sharpies ever since Unca' Scrooge told him he can be, would find a method to make money out of this. Well, he was certainly impressive, Donald gave him that. In fact, every one of his nephews was impressive in his own way. But Donald also had methods to impress people.

-"Your mother still doesn't know why the gas pipes exploded two weeks ago.", he bluntly stated, and yet his nephew kept a wide, if forced smile.

-"Yep, that'll be all the documents I need. By the way, do you really want to teach your cute little nephews how to blackmail?!", he obliged, feigning shock at the end of his sentence.

-"Louie, I have literally learnt how to blackmail from you. Also, isn't it blackmail if you threaten me with a lawsuit for a catchphrase? I don't really think that has much legal basis.", came the reply, shutting down the last argument the cunning duck could hold onto.

-"Yeah, okay, fair point.", and that was that. For the moment, anyways, Louie would always fund something to argue with, and Donald would just have to find a counter-argument. Somehow. It has gotten a bit difficult these days, but Donald loved a good challenge. Well, actually, he didn't, but he dealt with them all the same.

-"Any new results, Huey?", the perky, energetic voice of Webby asked as she ran around, fixing some tubes and...balls attached to ropes? It was only now that he realized how unconventional the contraptions Huey set up looked. It was basically gears, nails, and various building materials cobbled up together to make a sort of...measuring device? And that was the least worrying one; the entire room was filled with makeshift machines of all shapes and sizes.

-"Nothing yet...If you could steady your hands Unca' Donald, that'd be great.", he said absently, prompting Donald to turn the tube in his hand a few centimeters. Well, he went from doing nothing and watching T.V. to doing nothing while watching his nephews. That had to amount to something.

-"Wow, you're really just going to stand there for Huey so he can prove that it wasn't his super shaky hands that made him spill the milk this morning, aren't you?", the smugly lazy voice of Louie called out, now under Donald. He'd heard him going down from his bed.

-"My hands are *NOT* shaky, Louie!", the older triplet yelled, outraged by such preposterous claims.

-"Okay, Doctor Butterfingers.", his sibling teased, keeping a neutral face. Donald knew that was what got to Huey; the teasing, he could somewhat handle, but Louie's lack of expressions simply made his mockery get to Huey more easily. Luckily for the inhabitants of Duckburg, Duck War One-Thousand and Whatever could wait, as Donald was there to interfere. For now.

-"Actually, I will. It's a bit unwieldy, but I'll do it for the greater good!", there. A nice, dramatic statement, that should prevent the 'Do you really want to say that' ultimatum. Man, he really had to be a diplomat someday.

-"I don't think you'll call it the greater good when Huey realizes he just has butterfingers.", the little schemer whispered to his uncle, and suddenly, a very dark future flashed in front of his eyes. Well...all in time, he supposed. "Still, I guess you must really have one heckuva patience to just keep holding this tube.", he continued, this time a bit louder before adding under his breath 'uselessly'.

-"Well, yes, I am the most patient person in the world, no? I couldn't dream of starting fights with even the most annoying of people.", the older duck proudly claimed before making an expression that clearly told Louie to shut up about the four-digit number of times he lost his temper. It was better than being five-digits, at least.

-"Yeah, yeah, whatever.", the green-wearing duckling dismissed without second thought before picking up his sentence. "Still, I guess the mad scientist over there has reason to trust you; you are pretty reliable."

-"Aw, Louie-"

-"Extremely reliable in fact!", Huey intruded on their chat, lifting his head from the calculations he was calculating. "I mean, really. Unca' Donald was there for us the entire time; remember that one time in the house-boat when the plumbing stopped working all of sudden and you tried going to the-"

-"Please, for the love of all that is Holy, remember any other time I was useful. Just not....that!", the once-calm sailor begged, his voice filled with dread and his eyes going blank. Well, that's untrue; he still had pupils, but he just wasn't...there. Lost in his flashbacks. The Great Toiletening. The horror.

-"Oh, right...forgot that we don't talk about it...well, either way, all I'm saying is that we really do appreciate what you do! Even if we never really talk about it. Or thank you.", the smarter duckling reflected, bringing a hand to his beak.

-"Well, it's the thought that counts!", Webby chimed in, positive as always. She was right. To an extent. A lot. Okay, maybe she was right, but Donald didn't have to let her know. He wasn't a mind reader, and so he appreciated whenever people spoke their mind to him.

-"I mean, yeah, she's got a point, doesn't she, Unca' Donald?", ah, Louie. Every time Donald thinks he cannot get any more smug, he goes and proves him wrong. "But I guess I should say thanks for everything. Even though you didn't buy me that self-refiling can of Pep Gyro offered...Hey!", he objected as his uncle ruffled his head-feathers with his free hand, a smile on his beak.

-"It was going to go evil and try to strangle us in our sleep and you know that.", he bluntly stated, keeping his smile.

-"I still think it was worth a shot.", the con-man replied, moving towards the room's door. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a new method of getting richer than Uncle Scrooge, and I'll be accomplishing it by six in the evening.", he declared, opening the door to a beaten Dewey. "Dewey.", he nodded, passing by him.

-"Louie.", his brother nodded in return, waiting for him to close the door behind him. He looked horrible; a few scratches scattered on his face, his feathers were pointing in all directions, and his left eye felt less...firm than the other. "How much to you guys want to bet we'll have to save Louie from a demon or something by six?", he asked, pointing with a thumb to the door behind him.

-"What on earth happened to you, Dewey?! It's not even three in the afternoon and you look like you crawled out of the grave!", Donald yelled, heading over to the energetic duckling, almost spilling the water in the tube. "Are you okay? Can you see with your left eye? Did you disinfect the wounds?", he shot question after another, trying to judge the severity of the injuries with his free hand.

-"Yeah! What happened to you, Dewey?! Don't you know that the demon-scheme was last week? This week it's the 'Try-to-trick-a-rich-man-scheme'! We'll probably have to discuss some silly law-whatchamacallit with a bunch of angry lawyers by five at most!", Webby happily corrected him, looking just a teeny bit oblivious to Donald's source of worry here.

-"I'm fine, Unca' Donald. It's nothing big, mom was just...y'know. Doing mom stuff. Teaching me how to fight with the wilderness of the forest. It's no biggie.", the daring duck tried to deflate his uncle's worries, waving his hand nonchalantly, as if this was some regular occurrence he had to deal with. He failed.

-"Your mother took you to fight the wilderness?!", he repeated, grabbing his nephew's shoulder with his spare hand and trying to keep the other tube balanced.

-"Oh, come on, Unca' Donald, it's just basic stuff to learn!", he argued back, trying to shrug his shoulder before he winced from the act with an 'Ow!'.

-"Wha- Is your shoulder hurt? Did you encounter bears? How did you fight them?", he kept asking, barely giving the self-proclaimed adventurer any time to breathe.

-"I-It's nothing, just a bad landing, that's all. I mean, we were fighting bears, wolves, and flying beavers with nothing but our wits and bravery, the Heros of the For-Hey!", he tried to finish his sentence, only to be dragged by the sailor to his bed and forced to sit on it.

-"Oh, what am I ever going to do with your mother!", he grumbled, taking the first-aid kit they kept under the bed for emergency situations and trying to manipulate it with his one hand. "She just...she just thinks it's some jolly old fun to bring you over like it's nothing! Like you'll just bounce back from a fifty-meter jump and be okay!", he kept ranting himself as he took out some bandages and started unpacking them before heading to Dewey and starting to cover his wounds.

-"Heeeey! I told you I was fine, Unca' Donald.", the duckling huffed, unable to resist his uncle's medical aid as he kept putting bandages wherever he could reach. "And...Mom's trying her best, you know. No reason to get all mad, y'know...", he added, looking both offended and embarrassed.

-"I know she is.", Donald softly mumbled, putting the last of the bandages. Dewey's face wasn't too far from a mummy at this point. "It's just...sometimes her best isn't the best for everyone, and it's not her fault but...I'd rather you don't get mauled by a bear, Dewey.", he explained, taking a step back and paying attention not to let the tube in his hand tilt. Last thing he needed was to stand there again holding a tube full of water because the first one got spilled.

-"Yeah...me too, I guess.", he conceded, rubbing his arm and trying to chuckle. Donald responded in kind, trying to make his nephew be more at ease. "But she's so cool whenever she does it. How she kicked that bear and then it just turned over and winced in pain.", he dreamily recounted, looking to the ceiling before coming back to reality.

-"She kicked a bear and it just turned over?", Donald repeated, baffled; he knew his sister was strong, but weren't bears made for fighting harsh fights? Layers of fat and all that?

-"Well, I didn't get to see the fight in all its glory, but all I saw was that she flipped over the bear, managed to go behind him, and then she...kicked...", the young adventurer clenched his fists, enthusiastically recalling what his mother did until the realization dawned on all of them. 'Oooooh', was all he and Donald could say for a minute.

-"I don't understand. What did she do?", Webby asked, tilting her head as she carried some machines around the room.

-"O-Oh, it's nothing, Webby. Nothing at all.", he was lying through his teeth. Donald knew she knew. But as long as he wasn't the one who needed to tell her, all was going to be fine. "Ahem...Regardless of her strategies, you're not going to be your mother in one day, Dewey. De-, uh, sorry, your mom is an extremely talented person, but she also...slips. She needed years of broken bones, internal injuries and other injuries to reach where she is now. All I'm saying is that you can learn it all from her the easy way without breaking your neck. I know, not very fun to you,", he paused to add under his breath 'somehow', getting a glare from Dewey, "But it's what I think is better. You don't have to prove anything to us, you know.", he finished both talking and applying some extra bandages, looking at his nephew.

-"I can't promise anything; I can and probably will dew anything.", the blue-shirted duck began, receiving a sigh, "But it makes enough sense. I guess I don't have to be the star of every adventure, but...eh. Maybe I can sit back sometimes. The world needs a break from my awesomeness from time to time.", he finished, flashing his titular proud smile and forcing Donald to hold a smile, making the former's smile drop a bit. Oh, the world needed a break from Dewey alright. Just not for those reasons.

-"Yeah, Unca' Donald has a point, mom means well, but a bear's teeth are stronger than good will.", Huey added, though almost absently as he kept tinkering with the various machines throughout the room and re-reading his notes, as proven by his late response. "This just...this just...It doesn't add up! NONE of these numbers add up! The conclusion...it's wrong! Incorrect! It...It...", he yelled, almost unable to form a coherent sentence at the end. Oh, no. He was going into another rush of his. "Show me the tube, Unca' Donald!", he ordered as he made his way over to his older relative, who tried to remain calm. He did not succeed too well.

-"Uh, Webby? Did...did Huey take some sugar? What's going on in here?", Dewey asked the enthusiastic young duckling, who followed Huey to the triplets' bed.

-"Oh, it's nothing. Huey's been researching the surrounding gravity of the mansion to make sure it didn't change gravity or anything after it nearly got destroyed a couple dozen of times with us inside it!", clenching her fists and raising them to the air, her enthusiasm would've been infectious if Huey didn't look on the brink of a meltdown.

-"Riiiiight...", the blue-shirted triplet processed as his brother practically ripped the tube from his uncle's hand. "And he's doing this becauuuuse...?"

-"Oh, well, he spilled his milk this morning.", she immediately answered, reflecting on her words. "Yeah, not the best incentive, but it's for the greater good!", she confidently boasted, turning to her research-partner. "Right, Huey?"

-"The...The water's okay? How is it okay?! WHY IS IT OKAY?! I NEED TO KNOW!", said research partner was currently yelling at a tube of perfectly okay water, as any great man in history did. His eyes bulged and he ground his beak, looking ever so close to that breaking point.

-"Uh...Listen, Huey, I wasn't there this morning...but is a spilled milk cup really worth all of...this? Your hand probably just slipped. I spilled my milk last week, too.", well, that wasn't exactly true, but Donald didn't have to let them know that he mixed up which hand was holding the cup and which one was holding the brush. In his defence, he'd just woken up and...yeah, that was the only thing he could say for himself.

-"No, you don't understand! I've been pouring myself a glass of milk every morning for three years! I mastered a technique of holding the bottle and the cup for three years! What if I needed this technique for a dangerous artefact...or...or...Or maybe so Scrooge's keys don't fall down a drain! What if I needed to fly a plane with this knowledge and it fails me like it did now?!", ah, how Donald loved Huey's rants. He was just so passionate about the things he did. If there wasn't a chance of him picking up a knife or some other dangerous object and going around on rampage with it, he'd have encouraged him to do it more. No pent up feelings and all that jazz. It was also threatening that his left hand had a screwdriver that looked just a bit too sharp to be waved around.

-"Well...when the time comes to that, you'll come up with a solution. I know you will.", he smiled encouragingly, making his ranting nephew look at him and eyeing the screwdriver in his hand. "But sometimes, a glass of milk is just that. A glass of milk. There's no bigger meaning behind it most of the time and you don't need to beat yourself over it.", he argued, slightly snapping Huey out of his momentary madness. "And that's uncle Scrooge to you, Huey."

Well, yes, there were times when knowing how to play the guitar saved him and his family, and screwing that up would've killed them all, but in the end, you need to prepare yourself mentally for when the time comes, and not by beating yourself for every small or big mistake. There are times for that, but this was certainly not one of them. Donald would know. He did it as an emo teenager. Man, he missed those days. Why did going emo fall out of fashion?! It's all about gothic movements these days, and he wasn't about those clothes.

-"I...Yeah, you're right.", the mad-scientist in Huey gave the wheel back to his rational self. Thank goodness. No new paint-coats for this screwdriver. "Sometimes a glass of milk is just that. Milk.", he repeated, taking the tube out of his uncle's hand and letting the water fall. "Thanks, unca' Donald. I needed that. Don't know what came over me there for a moment.", he too smiled, allowing the houseboat sailor to pat his shoulder.

-"Bah, don't sweat it, Huey! We all had this moment when we went on an insane scientific adventure to prove something that's probably unreal because we...uh...Yeah, I can't dig myself out of that one.", Webby admitted, slumping near the end of her sentence as she suddenly looked a bit tired. Helping Huey all day on his quest probably wasn't the easiest thing to do today. The quadro of ducks shared a laugh.

-"C'mere, Huey.", the older duck held his arms out, allowing his nephew to nestle in for a hug. He gestured to the two other ducklings.

-"GROUP-HUG!", taking advantage of the situation, Webby grabbed Dewey's arm and threw the both of them onto the sailor, who felt the air get knocked out of him for a moment as the two ducklings slammed into his stomach. Regaining his breath, he wrapped his hands around the three duckling around him.

-"Okay that's enough.", Dewey was the first to pull out, never one for too much emotional content when he didn't need it. The other two slowly pulled out, looking satisfied.

-"Welp. I guess it's time to clean this mess up.", the former mad-scientist in Huey was now firmly dead, it seemed. He let out a sigh, looking at the various contraptions he had set up in the room.

-"Don't worry about it, Huey, we can help you out. Not like I'll be doing much like this, anyways...",  his brother gave him a pat on his back, pointing with his other hand to the various bandages that covered his face.

-"And I can help you, too! I want to get back granny's knives and laser guns, you know.", the young Vanderquack chimed in, looking cheerful as always, but a bit more down-to-earth now that the experiment she was assisting in turned out to be a bust. She pointed at a strange device that was, surprise surprise, made with various knives and what looked to be laser guns tapped together. What was even the point of that thing? To look science-y?

-"Ah, goodie, I think I'll help, too.", Donald added, trying to encourage this little aide-circle. He didn't really want his nephews to live in what looked like a madman's dump, which...for a few hours, it was.

-"Actually...I think you'd better prepare to try and bail Louie out of a lawsuit.", Huey suggested, starting to pick up the papers and small machines that covered the floor.

-"Oh, come on, Huey, I'm certain Louie is smart enough to not get himself into much trouble!", even before the older Duck finished his answer, the room's occupants began laughing. Oh, what a scenario that would be. Louie, not getting himself into trouble while searching for fortune. What a joke. "Yeah, okay, you're probably right.", he finally concluded, heading to the room's door and opening it before turning his head back, "Now, if you kids need anything, you can tell me, alright?"

-"Yes, Unca' Donald.", the three ducklings replied in unison with their usual boredom to his patronising acts. Ah, how he loved that tone of theirs.

Closing the door behind him, Donald started going down the stairs, taking in a deep breath. Well. This wasn't really the way he thought he'd be spending his afternoon, but you know what? It wasn't like he was complaining. A small bonding session with the boys was as good as any, after all, and the little motivational speech at the end? Mhmmmm, peak uncle performance right there.

Good job, humble Donald, you did well. What, he was allowed some sort of internal pride, wasn't he? If Gladstone could do it externally because he's lucky, then he could feel some pride for being a good uncle. He hoped. Well, thinking about it now...a good uncle wouldn't have let Louie go get himself into trouble...Hmm...

Well, maybe he wasn't a perfect uncle, but with his uncle and sister promoting this adventurous life-style, there was only so much he could do. Besides, people learn when bad things happen to them. He just had to hope nothing too bad happens, which, luckily, it doesn't. Most times.

He shielded his eyes as he got out of the building and had his eyes blinded by the sun and thought back to the smiles Dewey, Huey, Louie and Webby gave him. What he would do to have them smile like this all the time. Take that, Della, today, Donald had won the...uh...race? The contest of who's a better parent-figure? Well...all of them were good parent-figures but...Oh, forget it! What mattered was that he felt he did something good today and that was it.

He basked in that feeling of pride for a moment, opening his houseboat's main door before noticing a small green figure running towards the mansion from an enraged older man. What worried Donald wasn't the situation; it was that whatever Louie did, it made this man, who couldn't have been any younger than eighty, manage to wake his dormant muscles.

Well, he thought, guess it's time for more uncle-business. Ooooh, that was good. Maybe he could make it a catchphrase and actually copy-right it.

Whenever he calmed this older gentleman, of course. He took a step forward, readied his mind, and mentally prepared to save Louie from a butt-kicking. Yep. Typical Tuesday, alright, and he couldn't be a happier uncle about it.

[whichie]

Class Ghost, Ch. 7

summary: 

Shouto roams the halls of UA as a ghost, lost to who he was before and how he got to be who he is now.

Izuku feels like there's something missing from his life at UA, and he doesn't know what. But this ghost boy looks awfully familiar, and it's just not in him to let a poor soul wander forever without figuring out who murdered him first.

Together, they thwart bad guys and somehow fall in love along the way.

(the ghost/murder mystery au that nobody asked for)

a/n: :)))))

read it on ao3

It's been a week. A whole week, and no sign of Shouto anywhere. Izuku was running himself sick with worry, and the others have started to notice. He lost count of the amount of times he's been asked if he needs to lie down, or if he didn’t feel well. Goodness, if he had one dollar for every pitying look he got from his classmates, he'd be able to buy a mansion the size of Endeavor’s.

And so Izuku had had some thoughts, and feelings, and he really wished Shouto was there so he could relax and say what he had been wanting to say for a week. Which was, please don't ever leave again.

(and also, were you about to kiss me? Did you want to kiss me, or was that my imagination? What was stopping you? Why didn't you do it? Why didn't you?)

He didn’t know if Shouto needed his help right now, or if he felt lonely, or if he was mad at Izuku, or mad at himself, or a multitude of other things that could be happening to a ghost with the tendency to go rogue.

He's also taken to wandering the campus alone in his free time, half looking for Shouto, half giving himself something to do. Izuku hadn't realized how much time he spent with him until Shouto was no longer there.

(he refused to say no longer in his life, because there's still a chance of him coming back. It's only been a week, Uraraka.)

All week, he's felt off kilter, and he suspected it's not just because of Shouto. The nagging feeling that there's something he's missing had been following him and growing since the records room, and he found himself going back to that empty file folder again and again in hopes that it will give him answers, but it never does. He's tried showing it to the rest of 1-A, but they didn't recognize the name Todoroki Shouto either.

The strange thing about it all was that the feeling went away when he leaves campus. When he’s there, he's always confusing himself when he runs into a wall because his feet took him on auto pilot, and he thought there was a door there.

There was never more than four doors in his hallway, but his brain had other ideas.

He found himself turning around in class to say something to the empty desk in the corner, too. No one had ever sat at that desk all year except for the few times Shouto joined them for a lesson, so he always just closed his mouth and turned back around.

No one's ever in the chair, no door was ever in the hallway, and yet he still felt like there should be.

There should be.

Fuzzy memories of walking into a fifth room flitted through his mind, and now he had a suspicion. If he's right (he hoped he wasn't) then there were going to be more questions than answers. Izuku liked answers, they made everything make sense.

It's the end of the day when he finally got the courage to walk up to his floor. The long stretch of hallway seemed foreboding, but he ventured on until he passed where he gets those odd feelings, and he concentrated as hard as he could. At first nothing happened, and he almost gave up, but then remembered.

There was definitely supposed to be a door there, this he was sure of.

And now he's standing in front of where the door wasn't, staring at a blank wall that spanned between Kaminari’s door and Kirishima’s door. Which now that he looked at them, were too far apart for the small sizes of the dorm rooms. It was like they built an entire room between the two and forgot to put an entrance, the floor plan just didn't add up.

Which was ridiculous, because he remembered being in that room, and that freaked him out more than the existence of ghosts ever did.

.

.

.

He ran back to the lounge, collapsing onto the couch and making Mina startle. “How many dorm rooms are there on each floor?” he asked his classmates, who were hanging around watching tv or making dinner in the kitchen.

Kaminari spoke up from Mina’s other side, giving him a quizzical look, “Uh, I think there's twenty in total, so five.”

“Wrong.”

“What?”

“That would make sense, right? There's twenty people in each hero class, so five rooms on the four floors. But there's only eighteen of us after Mineta got kicked out. We started with nineteen people, and we have nineteen rooms.” Izuku could see the lost stares on his friends faces, and so he started again. “Why would the other classes get twenty people while we get nineteen?”

“I dunno,” answered Jirou, “not enough people got accepted, maybe.”

Bakugo scoffed in the corner. “What Deku is trying to say is that we’re 1-A. If there wasn't enough people, we’d still have twenty students because our class would fill up first.” A collective ‘ohhh’ sounded around as everyone understood, and he rolled his eyes and spread his hands like he was saying, duh.

“See?” Izuku said. He was sure that he looked crazy, but at that point he was done caring. “Putting aside the fact that we should have had another classmate. Why would the other classes have twenty dorms and we only get nineteen? What's the sense in that? They might as well add one more room for the future classes who will have twenty kids, but that's not the case.”

Mina stepped closer to him, her hands up like she was approaching an unpredictable, wild animal. “I think this whole Shouto thing has kept you up too long. You need some sleep, you're not making any sense,” she said gently.

“Think about it,” Izuku barreled on, ignoring the looks his classmates were giving him. “There's five rooms on the first and second floor, four on the third, then five more on the fourth.”

Kirishima abandoned the sandwich he was making in favor of walking towards them and leaning his arms on the back of the couch. “Okay, thats a little weird, design wise, but I still don't get your point.”

Izuku was getting frustrated, trying to simplify it as much as he could so they could understand. “I'm saying there should be a fifth room. I remember it at the beginning of the year, but there isn't.”

His friends were silent as they thought about it, and then Jirou hesitantly piped up from her position at one of the tables to his right, “I can look at the layout of the building, if you want.”

It was like a lightbulb suddenly lit up in his brain. It was so obvious, why didn't Izuku think of this before? “Yes. Please. This is driving me crazy.”

He was too busy bolting to the elevator in his haste to catch the murmured, “A little too late for that,” by Bakugou, and the resulting nods of agreement from Mina, Uraraka, and Kaminari, who were the only ones to follow.

The way the other floors are laid out is this: the stairs and elevator are at one end of the hallway, on the same wall are two bedroom doors, and on the other wall are three. That's not the case for floor three.

As they exited the elevator, Izuku had time to take in how bizarre it was. Right across the hall from the elevator was Kaminari’s room, then at the end of the hall was Kirishima’s room, and the place where the third room should be between them was blank, empty space.

“Okay, I see what your saying,” Mina agreed as Jirou walked up to the expanse of cream colored wall and stuck her ear jacks into it. “Definitely weird.”

The look on Jirou’s face went from quietly skeptical to down right freaked out in the three seconds it took her scan the layout. She glanced at the four of them waiting for her verdict, then back at the wall, eyes wide and her mouth a thin line. “There's… a whole fucking room on the other side of this wall.”

“No way. That can't be right,” Kaminari exclaimed, but even he didn't believe himself. They knew Jirou’s abilities, and getting building schematics was something she could do in her sleep. She was never wrong.

Suddenly, Izuku got the feeling that they weren't supposed to find this out. This felt like the beginning of a conspiracy, and being the one to uncover it didn't feel as fun as he thought it would be. It felt fatal, like a live wire, and they were dangerously close to crossing the line of no return.

Fortunately or unfortunately for him, Izuku was never good at leaving well enough alone.

“Can you find out anything more?” he asked Jirou, but she shook her head almost immediately.

“There's something blocking me. I can only get the general imprints of things, nothing else.”

Uraraka sounded rightfully nervous as she suggested they leave it alone, maybe mention it to a teacher, and the others quickly agreed, not wanting to be there longer than they had to.

“Man, why’d you have to point this out, Izuku? I don't think i’ll be able to sleep tonight.” Kaminari, complained.

“I don't think you’ll have much trouble. You sleep like a rock,” Mina shot back, which started an insult war that lasted well after the doors to the elevator closed, casting the hallway in lonely darkness.

For all Izuku knew, that could be their undoing. It wasn't a pleasant thought to have.

.

.

.

Izuku went back there, well after everyone left, staring at the wall like he could bore a hole through it to see to the other side. He was hesitant to break it down, and he got the feeling that whatever was blocking Jirou’s sight wasn't going to like them sticking their noses further. So there he was, left wondering and still confused, with less answers than he wanted and exactly as many answers as he knew he was going to get.

But still, it nagged at him.

But still, it evaded him.

But still, it couldn't last forever.

Even now, whatever hold it had on them was weakening. First, it was the vague feelings of unease, then the flashes of memory, then his conviction that there was a missing room even with evidence to the contrary. And now this, the proof. The undeniable truth that something was at play here, or more frightening, someone.

With everything that had happened to 1-A, Izuku wouldn't be surprised if this was the League of Villains, or another shadowy organization trying to ruin them. He should talk to All Might, or Aizawa, but he knew they would see the timing of Shouto’s appearance and the discovery of the hidden room more than a coincidence. Izuku couldn't have that, so he’d have to figure it out himself.

The unease grew, and he wished Shouto was here, if only to know he was safe.

[walduissymavelleyq94insuran-blog]

Does anyone know where to get cheap UK car insurance for a 17 year old male, preferable uder 1000.?

Does anyone know where to get cheap UK car insurance for a 17 year old male, preferable uder 1000.?

Does anyone know where to get cheap UK car insurance for a 17 year old male, preferable uder 1000.?

BEST ANSWER: Try this site where you can compare free quotes :cheap-insure.info

SOURCES:

Does anyone know where to get cheap UK car insurance for a 17 year old male, preferable uder 1000.?

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Does anyone know where to get cheap UK car insurance for a 17 year old male, preferable uder 1000.?

[fansonia]

The Ramblings of a Dork at Disneyland (well, technically California Adventure but STILL

Imma warn you all now: this is gonna be long and rambly and weird, buuuut idk what to do with all this brain info, so I'm just gonna put it all here. Long story short, my inner MCU fangirl is hereby more alive than ever and I'm slightly pissed at my phone. Oh, also I met Cap and Spider-Man, which is kinda the whole reason I wrote this whole thing. Yeah. If you're down for a bit of "light reading" *insert me cackling like a maniac here*, well.....buckle up and let me tell you a story.

(Tumblr mobile doesn't have the "read more" so I apologize for that, just pretend it's there until I edit it back in later. Curse you Tumblr mobile, curse you)

So I got to see Cap first, and he was super sweet and chill and thought I was a sorcerer. Why would he think that, you ask? Well, one, I had my Harry Potter merch, aaaand I may....or may not have.....messed with my flannel and turned it into a makeshift Cloak of Levitation. We talked and I explained my "magic" trinkets (dragon bracelet was a talisman that summoned an ethereal dragon for battle purposes, obsidian/dragonglass necklace, pizza necklace from a friendo (which he said could be my greatest weapon of all...who knows, he could be right), and....yeah. Also he was super confused about what Harry Potter was, and my dad and the staff told him it was like hair-covered pottery or soup or something. Explaining Ravenclaw was even harder, so I kinda simplified it and Mister 1940s kinda got it. Oh, and also we compared Voldemort to Redskull. That was cool. And we got a cool "pose 4 battle" picture.

Oh, side note, he asked me what powers I would have. He theorized maybe something like the Aether or Earth-based, I just....had no idea so I was open to his suggestions. Yeah. He was cool, I got his signature. I was probably super awkward and weird but hey, we still talked and my dad wondered if the dude had a possible crush on me. That's a dad thing, I think, thinking that maybe random dudes would actually like me. Meh, it's sorta reassuring I suppose, thinking that I may not die alone in this world.

OKAY ONTO RAMBLING LIKE AN IDIOT ABOUT SPIDER-MAN, BUCKLE UP MY DUDES

So, first time I went over there, HELLO NERVES MY OLD FRIEND!!! At least, while I was in line. Once I got up to meet him, he was super cool and awkward and sweet and I was totally cool just hanging out with him and talking about stuff. Like, we talked about me maybe being a part of the Avengers, we talked about some possible evil plot stuff involving Edna Mode (long story short: Spidey thought her 'no capes' philosophy was suspish and I was like 'eh you have a point there, there's more to the story that we don't know' and all that. God, I sound like a fangirling Peter Parker writing this. ANYWAYS, we took some pics together and I told him my friend Natalie said hi. Also side note: the suit was a little more Tobey-Maguire-Spidey-esque in design, which was kinda cool and stuff.

So the SECOND time around, I showed up because I realized I never got his signature. Thus, I was like "I gotta go back, that's an important thingy thing" and all that. I waited in line and hung out and sort of sang stuff to myself to keep my nerves from reappearing, because what if someone noticed I'd been there before and said "uh no ler other people get a chance"? Well, the staff up there (this one dude was cool, he was a Hufflepuff and we talked HP the first time I was there, and then this time he asked me what I did since I was last there, and talked and stuff and that was cool), he noticed. Probably since I was still wearing my lucky flannel/cape, but still, he understood and was super chill. And so was Spidey, heck, he even seemed happy I was back! I mean, I get it, how many people come back twice to see you at a Disney park? The chances for that are probably suuuuper slim. So anyways, I went back and got his signature (which my stupid fucking phone thought was the PEEEERFECT thing to DELETE.....THANKS A LOT LG IT'S NOT LIKE I WANTED TO KEEP SPIDEY'S SIGNATURE OR ANYTHING), and I told him some more info about the Edna conspiracy.

I think actually the Edna conspiracy needs its own paragraph. So it all started because Spidey liked my makeshift (short) cape. Going off of that, he told me he thought it was a bit suspicious that she was so hardcore against heroes having capes. I was like, I mean, I get chu, I just don't know if it's worth going evil for, but I get chu. So yeah, it started off of that. Well, to the surpise of many, the new Incredicoaster broke down! People were even STUCK on it! And lucky for me, I got to ride it earlier so it was nbd for me. BUT, I remembered my conversation with Spidey. That's when my inner "oh shit" siren began to wail. I knew I had to tell him. Sure, in terms of ridiculousness, or plausibility in this icky icky real world, totally wasn't the fault of one person. BUT, this was California Adventure and I was (technically) talking to a teenage superhero. So, who needs realism when you can have fun?

Alright, back to the thing with Spidey. So I told him that it was super suspish (like he said) that Edna was RIGHT THERE near the Incredicoaster, and it broke down. I mean, theoretically if Edna Mode ever WENT rogue, being the exclusive suit designer of a popular superhero family would be a PERFECT way to divert attention away from her! That, and she's short so she can hide, according to Spidey. So we basically talked about that, but then I told him I had a darker theory. He was all like "well it's dark out, so I don't mind," (it was nighttime so this actually worked), so I told him my theory. I tokd him that Seán....oh! I told Spidey that Seán loved him and said he was his favorite MCU character and I swear Spidey was so giddy and adorable about it, it was funny....yeah. So I told him Seán made a bunch of characters for his channel, and he may have inadvertently created a monster with glitch capacities to bring down YouTube AND Disneyland.....the one and only Antisepticeye. Immediately, Spidey was like "yep that's definitely who it is, that's our top suspect" and stuff. I mean, DUH, it's Anti. Unless Anti turns out to be being controlled by one of the other egos, or something like that...like he's GOTTA be the top suspect.

Not to mention that my phone MYSTERIOUSLY DELETED SPIDEY'S SIGNATURE, DOTH I SMELL SOME ANTI KERFUCKENING RIGHT THERE, I THINK I DOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

Okay, I need to end the rambles soonish here. So last but not least, we took more pictures, I hugged him (both times I actually hugged him, he was sweet about that), and I said my goodbyes. I still REALLY wish my phone had saved the signature....but I have a lot of pictures and video so that's a good. Also both my parents think he had a crush on me. Like, that's TOTALLY a parent thing and I think he was probably just doing his job and stuff, but it's a nice thought to think that maybe people would like me. 'Ya know?

On a more realistic note though: to the guy in the Spidey suit on October 18th 2018, you is a good bean. I seriously loved being able to just talk and act as if I didn't have crippling social anxiety for a little while. Same goes for the guy dressed as Cap, you were cool too. I also seriously doubt either of you guys had crushes on me, so if you wanna help me explain to my parents that 'conversation does not equal romance', I'd be cool with that too. Or if by some weird chance either of you dudes liked me, I'm cool with that too (like I said, kind of a nice thought to be like "eyyy people like me, I may not die alone and stuff"). Yeah.

Okay yeah, that's mainly the gist of it all. Imma go and try to maybe rest and go through the fifty bazillion pictures of California Adventure I have, and the ones my dad has on his phone. I may have gone a bit overboard with memory capturing today. But yeah, anyways, overall it was fun!

If you got to the bottom of this....I don't even know what to call it, I commend you. I'm shocked you have the time and mental willpower/dedication to read though all of this (especially considering the run-ons and inconsistencies), but I'm still proud of you nonetheless. Besides, maybe if you all end up at Disney, you can find these dudes like I did and talk to them! I mean, if me, a hooman with some extremely rusty people skills and anxiety can feel like all was well and cool....I mean, that's gotta be a good sign you'd like hanging with them too, you know?

Anyways, thanks for reading, I'm gonna go and try not to limp a lot, because apparently I'm actually limping rn from walking so much XD. I'll see you lovelies sometime later or so!

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