#first time drawing a bulldog too!

[nattravn-art]

Laketober 2024: Grounds - Family tree

[momentokori]

BOO!!

In honor of starting a new sketchbook I wanted to take OCs from four of my mutuals regardless of how often we interact! These four are on the very first page and what everyone sees when it's first opened!

More stuff under the cut💥

Carmilla! Belonging to @mayisgoingnuts

Shhh you didn't know I was doing this shhhh, also I know her arm looks a little weird but it's because I draw the hands then connect them to the body

Sherburt! Belonging to @cupcake-catastrophe11

He was my favorite to draw/lh, also fun fact, before I asked I already had a picture saved but I figured I'd let you guys decide instead of just taking one

Pan! Belonging to @bulldog-geckorahhhhh

I'm so sorry it's missing so many details :[ I would love to draw all the details but I just didn't have time since I wanted to get this out before it got too late for some people, maybe one day I'll redraw it!

Hiro! Belonging to @paperbagirlratlover

I think this one was Hiro? This is also why I asked for OC rambles since I didn't know their names :] also hi, hello, I was the mystery person

I would love to draw more of everyone's OCs in the future!! If you ever want me to just send it in and I'll get to it eventually :]]

[corneliaavenue-ao3]

When Harry Potter was born, he knew nothing of prophecies or horcruxes. The name Tom Riddle meant absolutely nothing to him. He knew of a woman with long, copper hair and green eyes and a tall man with messy, black hair. He knew of three pairs of hands that were the hands of his uncles. He knew what snuggles were and he knew what it felt like to have a body with only one soul. 

When Harry Potter celebrated his first Halloween, he knew nothing of trolls in the dungeons or Death Day Parties. He knew nothing of petrified cats and words written in blood by a girl who has no control over her own body. Goblets of Fire meant nothing to him at this time and what the consequences could be if his name were to ever come out of one. Instead, he only knew of the orange costume his mum put him in that made him look like a pumpkin, and the painted face of his dad that made him look like a skeleton.

When Harry Potter celebrated his first Christmas, he knew nothing of coal in stockings and shoelaces as presents. He didn’t know what it felt like to watch his cousin open up his 25th present while he cooked Holiday brunch in the kitchen. He didn’t know what a belt was or how it could be used as a punishment if the bacon came out a little too crispy for his uncle’s liking. He only knew of stockings filled with toys, and 25 kisses from each one of his parents. He only knew of his mum’s (off key) singing of muggle Christmas carols as she helped his dad cook Christmas brunch. 

When Harry Potter played with the big black dog, he knew nothing of the grim. He did not know the scared feeling of being chased by bulldogs owned by his uncle’s sister. He knew nothing of magical prisons and unjust criminal systems nor was he aware of The Ministry of Magic and the secrets that lie within its walls. He didn’t know how thin the dog could become after being starved for 12 years. He knew only of piggyback rides and wet, slobbery kisses. 

When Harry Potter celebrated his first birthday, he knew nothing of letters addressed to a boy who lived in a cupboard under the stairs. He was not friendly with spiders and their cobwebs littering his bedroom. He did not know about drawing birthday cakes in the dirt with eleven candles on them. He only knew of toddler sized broomsticks that he could chase the family cat around the living room with. He knew of a big cake baked by “Ma” that ended more on the floor and his face than it did his own mouth. 

When Harry Potter woke up on his second Halloween, he knew nothing of death. The name Tom Riddle still meant nothing to him, and he did not know that green flashing lights were a sign of evil. He did not know how devastating a betrayal from a best friend could be. Most importantly, he did not know the sound of his own mother’s screams. Instead he only knew the bright colors his dad would shine above his crib as his mum told him a bedtime story. He only knew “Pea” as a surrogate uncle, just like “Serus” and “Reem.” Most importantly, he only knew the sound of his mother’s laugh.

When Harry Potter was left on the doorstep of his aunt and uncle’s house, he knew nothing of abuse. He knew nothing of his cousin’s fists or the silly, little game called “Harry Hunting.” He knew nothing of negligent teachers who ignored the obvious signs of mistreatment. Instead he only knew the stars that twinkled like the bearded man’s eyes and the flying motorcycle in the night sky. He only knew the faint cheers from wizards and witches all across Great Britain celebrating the death of the man he now shared a soul with.

He knew nothing yet of what was to come.

[themurphyzone]

Son of Darkwing AU: Just Like You Ch 1

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

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

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

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

AO3 Link

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There were already too many. 

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

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

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

“Ten minutes.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Packing up in peace was nice. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But nobody ever believed him. 

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

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

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

He didn’t see Dad’s car anywhere. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This wasn’t the sort of attention he wanted. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everyone else backed up and gave them a wide berth. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He had to try and be the bravest duckling ever. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Freak. 

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

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

An engine roared to life. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

o-o-o-o

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dad only shrugged. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even Officer Skye was watching him. 

Am I going to jail too? 

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

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

Softer. Less harsh. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Neither of them spoke on the ride home.  

o-o-o-o-o

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not my fault some people have poor taste…” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even his sneeze was quieter than most. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

o-o-o-o-o

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does it make banana smoothies too?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Weasel? I’m a rat, clownface!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn’t want to be left behind. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

The door opened. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nobody did. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At least they tried. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So Drake took a deep breath once more. 

Just say it. You can tell them. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

o-o-o-o

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Be like Darkwing. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He turned and gave Drake an encouraging nod. 

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

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

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

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

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

It was strange to see him so speechless. 

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

One foot slid out of the car. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

o-o-o-o

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was lonely. 

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

Despite his turmoil, Drake managed to smile back. 

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you see?” Drake asked eagerly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you okay?” Auntie asked in concern. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Auntie shook her head firmly. 

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

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

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

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

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

What if they overpower her? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was no robber! 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More…confused than anything. 

It took Auntie by surprise too. 

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

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

Auntie just stared at him. 

“Why?” she asked. 

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

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

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

A drawing of Darkwing Duck laid within the glass. 

Drake’s eyes widened. 

My drawing…he framed it? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Auntie glared at him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[kittythegengarmonarch]

15 questions for 15 mutuals

One of my close friends (as well as mutuals) @cadaver-moss tagged me in this! Gracias mi amigo! Now it's my turn! ^^

(There are some questions that reveal a bit too much for me, so I will try my best to alter them.)

Are you named after anyone. I'd say there are 3 answers. Legal name I will change: Yes Real name I use today: Depends. It's a noun that I would describe myself, but in a different language. Also turns out, I learned about a year after I got the name, that the word comes from the name of a spirit! Persona's name: A grandmother's dog (she's a sweetheart)

When was the last time you cried. The last time I actually cried was during a meltdown. The last time I almost cried was when another close friend said he would block me if I sent him a clip of Toad's voice, and because he said that I had a shutdown (he knew what he did was wrong though, and luckily, we made up).

Do you have kids? My sona does (in reality they're my Gengar plushies), but irl, no. I don't plan to have coitus with anyone else in any way, shape or form. (Adopting or fostering kids though, I would say otherwise).

Do you use sarcasm a lot? Depends on my mood, really.

What sports do you play/have you played? Have I played? Kick ball! I made a homerun (after I slid) and ended up getting filled with energy and pride! ^^

What's the first thing you notice about other people? I honestly don't know. I have social anxiety, especially with most other teens (a reason why high school is very stressful for me) and I often prefer to be alone.

Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings. Easy answer. The King's Game, SCP-5254, Squid Game and SCP-001(WTDB) are perfect examples of why I prefer happy endings, as they have caused me depression and sometimes paranoia. It wasn't pretty. (There is also more media like them that have caused me depression and/or paranoia.)

Any special talents? If drawing counts, yes. Other than that, if it counts, algebra, and most other academic activities.

Where were you born? My sona: Alola Me irl, an southeastern state in the US (Currently living somewhere else, and I will not say the name of either place)

What are your hobbies? Drawing, surfing the net, watching YouTube, napping, shaking the lamb sauce (don't ask. It's a secret), listening to music, car rides (at times), word searches, and other things that are out of my mind right now.

Do you have any pets? The namesake of my sona, Kitty, and Highly [Maybe Confused]. There are some pictures I took of them recently at the bottom of the post. Check out other videos on Tumblr to check them out. Update: We got another bulldog, and his name is Uhtred.

How tall are you? What's 3^4-36+9x2+0? That's your answer. (And no, it's not a _'_ deal)

Favorite subject in school? Art. Other than art, math.

Dream job? Character designer, like James Turner and Ken Sugimori, or an illustrator, like Anne Fitzgerald. Or a storyboard artist.

Eye color? Go outside, and stare at a tree trunk. If not, stare at my dog.

Highly is the tired one(left), and Kitty is the desperate one(right). Update: The puppy below is Uhtred.

I'll tag @liamthemarowak @ghos-tea @tiny-brain @destinylightsup-2006 @leothewtf @andythepurplebird2k5 @alter-ego-cole @boongusbongus and @artsymii

(As it's most likely required. Lmao)

[imtrashraccoon]

First Day, Previous Day, & Next Day

Day 4: Fireworks

The pencil scratched across the paper as you carefully sketched. You didn't have many hobbies nor the time to actually practice them, but now that you were trapped in the Underground, you suddenly had more time than you knew what to do with. So to amuse yourself a little, you'd taken to sketching out a few of the small monsters you'd remembered encountering so far.

In the Ruins you'd seen a frog like creature that was about the size of an English bulldog, a small ghost with wings, a monster with a large eye, a beetle like monster, and even a little yellow flower. While these Monsters had all tried to attack you and Frisk, you'd managed to resolve the conflicts peacefully rather than having to fight back.

You hadn't seen very many other Monsters in the forest, especially while you had been close to either of the brothers, but you had spotted a couple of owl like birds with a snowflake pattern on their faces. There had also been some monsters that looked like snowmen with ice hats and one that reminded you of a deer, although it had a rather terrifying face.

You'd sketched out a couple of Monsters by now and while you weren't an amazing artist, you felt slightly proud at how good they'd turned out. While you would love to have a couple of coloured pencils, you had to be content with leaving the sketches as grayscale and focus more on shading.

"What Are You Doing?" Papyrus asked as he entered the kitchen and began rummaging around in one of the cupboards.

"Drawing," you answered, still focused on getting the details of a Snowdrake just right. "It's been a while since I did."

Papyrus hummed quietly. "You Like Drawing Then?"

You paused and examined the half dozen little monsters on the paper. "Yeah, I do. I just, I like the feeling of accomplishment from making something." You chuckled and added, "Especially if they're cute."

You went back to shading a few more details, barely noticing the silence that had settled between you two. As your pencil continued to scratch away at the paper, the moments stretched on.

"You Are Cute."

Papyrus had spoken quietly and yet you were focusing so much that he actually startled you. Nearly jumping out of your socks, you accidentally pressed too hard on the paper with your pencil and broke the lead.

You stared at your sketch for a moment, barely registering how you'd nearly ruined it. While your brain rebooted, your tongue acted on its own and resorted to your go to defense mechanism for awkward situations - dry sarcasm.

"No, you're cute," you muttered.

You instantly wanted to fall through the floor and die. Rather than diffuse the situation, you'd basically just lit a fuse that would spell certain disaster. Why did you always have to make things worse and have them blow up in your face?

Papyrus planted his hands on the table to your left, practically leveling you with the intensity of his gaze. After a moment though, he grinned and his scarlet eyelights seemed to flicker dangerously.

"Hardly, You Are Adorable," he said with a slight chuckle.

So much for an immediate explosion. If he was going to play with fire, you weren't going to be the one caught holding the match.

"I know you are, but what am I?" you retorted teasingly.

Papyrus didn't seem to be expecting you to be willing to throw down so quickly and you could almost see the gears turning in his skull as he tried to think up another comeback. A moment later, he leaned closer to you and spoke in a much lower tone, almost akin to a growl. "I Ought To Turn You In For The Crime Of Being A Heart Stealer..."

Your cheeks were starting to burn. He was good at this...either that or you were weak to his charms. Maybe even both...?

"Well, are you a parking ticket? Because you've got fine written all over you..." you murmured.

You really weren't good at being charming, but by the dusting of scarlet across Papyrus' cheekbones, it had been effective enough. He narrowed his eye sockets and stared at you. Not willing to back down and give him the satisfaction of winning, you stared back at him defiantly.

"You Are A Real Spitfire..." he whispered, finally breaking the silence.

"And you're actually a scoundrel, aren't you?"

Papyrus moved closer until he was only a few inches from your face. "Oh Yes," he purred. "But I Think You Like That... Or Am I Wrong?"

"I..." you couldn't seem to form a proper response and trailed off. Your brain must've finally caught up and the reality of what was happening had finally fully set in.

Papyrus was actively flirting with you and, like an idiot, you'd only added more fuel to the once tiny sparks. The figurative fuse had been lit long ago and now the firecracker was just about to explode.

You glanced away as an uninvited thought forced its way to the front of your mind. You...liked this. You liked him. You liked the attention he gave you too.

"Papyrus..." you murmured quietly and made yourself look at him again.

He gazed calmly back and for a moment, you were struck speechless once again. Your tongue felt heavy and your heart was thumping much faster than what was considered normal.

He finally broke and had to look away from you, covering his face with one hand as he did so. You immediately noticed that his blush had significantly darkened, even though he was clearly trying to hide it.

Papyrus softly swore under his breath and ran his hand down his face. "Rihanna...Do You...?" he started to ask.

You tilted your head questioningly. While you weren't sure exactly what he was trying to say, you had a small inkling about what it could be.

He swore again. "I Think... I Might Actually Like You..." he finished.

Your eyes went wide with shock. "I... I don't know... I might...like you too, Papyrus..." you whispered.

The fireworks had finally gone off.

(Edit: Just a little tag for one of my favorite tumblr users: @scrambledmeggys )

[faeriecinna]

Get To Know Me Tag

Thank you @whatwewrotepodcast for the tag!

Are you named after anyone?

Nope, though I was going to be named Cinnamon after the MC from my Dad's debut novel.

When was the last time you cried?

This morning. I cry at everything and this morning my work pals were being extra lovely so I had a lil sob </3

Do you have kids?

Not yet.

What sports do you/have you played?

I used to play basketball and volleyball, dance, and I was a champion shot putter. Now I just run and do circuits.

Do you use sarcasm?

All the damn time /srs

What's the first thing you notice about somebody?

Usually their outfit ngl

Eye color?

Dark brown

Scary movies or happy endings?

Scary movies 1000000% I've been watching horror films since I popped out of the womb.

Any talents?

I'm a phenomenal baker if I do say so myself. I can draw pretty well too and I'm pretty good at tattooing myself :)

Where were you born?

England :/

Hobbies?

Being a plant parent, writing, DnD, hiking and being a menace.

Any pets?

3 dogs (Candy the Rottweiler, Bronx the French Bulldog and Mowgli the Border Collie)

3 cats (Dexter and Ziggy the Tuxedos and Benji the Tabby)

and a Bengal Eagle Owl called Tayah :)

Height?

5'4"

Favorite subject?

English Combined, Theatre Studies, Fine Art

Dream job?

I wanna own my own bakery cafe and eventually be a published author

I simply am not going to tag 15 accounts because I don't want to bother that many people lmao </3 no pressure tags as always x

@surroundedbypearls @ryns-ramblings @theeccentricraven @ladywithalamp @rickie-the-storyteller

[zisfromzhay]

how i picture daphne greengrass ⋆

im doing this bc i believe in the babygirlification of the lightning era slytherins

⋆ canon info:

- she is a pureblood and her family is part of the sacred 28.

- a blood curse runs in her family.

- she's a slytherin in harry's year.

- she has a younger sister named astoria.

⋆ headcanon (here's when things start to get interesting guys) :

- demi-girl, lesbian, demisexual, they/she pronouns

- fc: emily alyn lind

summer fan

iced coffee lover

used to play the violin

her favorite teacher was professor aurora sinistra, even if they failed her class

has a white bulldog named kora

weird obsession with keys

big quidditch fan

⋆ description:

most people describe daphne as someone who has a hard time letting people in, but never ends up regretting when she does. she’s a sarcastic, loyal and understanding friend. always seems to have the best advice, but never applies it to themselves. they’re not a romantic or affectionate person, but somehow always manages to show love to other people her own way. she’s struggles a lot with school and has never had good grades, she used to try but stopped caring. people never use to notice her until there is a small place/friendgroup when she feels comfortable and confident enough to talk, and they’re surprisingly funny and a cool person to talk with, as she is the most open minded person of her group. rarely judges people if she doesn’t know them. isolates themselves from everyone when something is wrong, even if she knows she can trust this person or is comfortable with them (even theo). doesn’t get angry, but gets disappointed. usually forgets that she has to speak in a conversation, as if she expected everyone to read her mind or smth like that. pretty awkward with everyone if she doesn’t know them well.

⋆ childhood:

when they were born, their parents had been trying to have kids for years, so her first years were beautiful. she was their parents' little miracle. but as tori, her sister, was born, and the years passed, she realized how unhealthy their parents' marriage was.

even if at first it didn't seem like it, her parents were distant. she wouldn't say they were bad parents, but that they were too worried caring about themselves to take care of their kids.

daphne was always a quiet person, since she was a kid. even their parents struggled to communicate with her, before they stopped trying. she wouldn't talk to anyone and rarely left their living room, where she spent hours and hours reading, drawing, staring through the window.

her family tended to forget about their existence, while they admired how smart, funny and incredible astoria was. she did have a good relationship with her aunt, who was 16 years younger than their mom. it was weird to everyone because of their personalities, (1/2)

astoria and her should have got along better, but her aunt always seem to prefer spending time with her, surrounded by comfortable silences. (2/2)

she grew up in a pureblood family, and even though politics and the blood-status were present in their family, her parents (especially) were chill, tho they were in voldemort´s side in both wars.

as they grew up, astoria had always try to catch her big sister´s attention, tho it was later, at hogwarts, when they really started to get along.

⋆ hogwarts:

daphne got sorted in slytherin, something they were expecting, as her whole family had been sorted in that house.

she was told she´ll have to share room with two girl she noticed were talking and laughing during the sorting, pansy parkinson and millicent bulstrode; and tracey davis, a girl she met in the train and was glad didn't tried to start a conversation.

the first weeks were hell for them. pansy and millicent had quickly become friends and were, from daphne´s perspective, too loud and annoying, as the girls were always talking, gossiping, and unfortunately, trying to start conversations with her.

tracey, who daph actually tolerated, was as quiet as her, but apparently didn't mind the others' loud conversations at midnight, and joined when she felt like it.

she wasn't really jealous of the friendship her roommates had established, they just wished it would have been as easy to her.

as the years passed, she started to get more along with tracey, spending time together either reading or working on their own things.

and then, around third year, milli and pansy had finally stopped trying to force daphne into talking with them, and that's when daphne started to feel comfortable enough to slowly join their conversations, and that’s when the friendship began.

it wasn´t until the end of their fourth year that they started to hang out with draco malfoy and their gang, who got along with pansy and millicent, even though daphne and theo were already friends by that time.

part 2

⋆ relationships and friendships:

⋆ theodore nott: (he/him)

platonic soulmates

theo talks, daphne listens

sarcastic introvert & nice introvert

theo is always convincing daphne to go to parties, to end up leaving earlier than anyone and get drunk in their dorms alone.

daphne = too lazy to wake up, theo = forces her to go to class

hate when people touch their hair, but not when it’s eachother

ace bitches

always have the best gossip

loves sleeping next to him, but doesn’t admit it = daphne ; hates sleeping with people, but still does bc it’s her = theo

bad grades 🤝 good grades

daphne and theo started to get along during second year, because dumbledore told theo to give extra classes to daph as she was failing most of them, and he was one of the best students, after draco and hermione.

at first it was a bit weird, as theo shyly tried to start conversation while daphne just blandly started at him. deep down, daphne was just jealous that this kid, who has friends with draco malfoy and his gang, who she used to dislike by that time, was far more smart that she was ever going to be, and a bit intimidated and surprised by him, as theo, just really wanted to get along with them, because he had noticed her before as astoria’s (an annoying first year he knew) big sister, and knew because she was pansy’s roommate.

as they spent more and more afternoons in the library, they both started to get to know each other, and by the end of the year, theo could freely and without any doubt, call them his bestfriend.

theo nott is that person who’s always has been right by daphne’s side, stuck with her in their own bubble, where no one else was important. joined at the hip since they met.

⋆ millicent bulstrode: (any pronouns)

enemies to “friends” to lovers

love/hate relationship

sarcastic little shit 🤝 cocky babygirl

“ i gotta go” gf 🤝 “wait no” *kisses her for the next hour* gf

sends him a letter once a week during summer = daph, writes them 5 letters a day = milli

millicent loves daph’s sister, and daphne wont show they love that they get along.

they steal clothes and do each others makeup.

loves gossip but it’s always the last one to found out ab things = milli, is the one who shares the gossip with her because she always finds out things first = daph

dogs lovers

millicent was the last one of the girls to start getting along with daphne, and at first, neither of them really liked years, as daphne had always ignore and dislike her, and milli had spend too much time trying to be friends with her and got tired. so neither really interacted if they weren’t with the others, and when they did, it was insulting eachother, in a jokingly-but-not-so-funny way, so neither of them really knew if the other disliked or liked the other.

that kept happening until the summer of their fifth year, where daphne invited the group to stay at her house bc their parents weren’t there. it was there when the two started to get closer, spend full nights talking, getting to really know eachother, as daph always thought of millicent as that person who wasn’t satisfied until she got everyone’s attention, and milli as daph thought herself as far more smart than others to socialize. during the few days more millicent spent at her house, as his parents where also gone, they both realize the idea they had about the other was completely wrong.

it was pansy who, after being really happy that both her friends finally really started to get along, that also started to realized maybe that new friendship the two had formed wasn’t platonic, and when she told tracey, she agreed, but milli or daphne were fully oblivious of their feelings until after their christmas holidays during six year. they started dating quickly after that.

⋆ astoria greengrass:

extrovert & introvert dynamic

(kinda) black cat & golden retriever energy

taller but younger 🤝 smaller but older

has only dated a person in her life 🤝 is with someone new every month

they don’t have the “we used to get along as kid but then we grew apart” dynamic. no. they’re the exact opposite. daphne couldn’t stand tori when they were kids, and it took them a long time to start liking her sister, while astoria was basically obsessed with her big sister, copied everything she did, and followed her everywhere, just like a young sibling would do. she was desperated to catch her sis attention and tried so so hard to.

during daph’s first year at hogwarts, tori wrote millions and millions of letters which she barely responded, and as she felt more and more alone, without any friends, she started to realized how much she missed her annoying little sister.

they started to get closer when tori arrived to hogwarts, but then stop talking again, as tori became popular with her shinny, extrovert and funny personality, while daph was under her shadow, once again. tori had a rough time watching theo and daphne get closer, as that boy didn’t even had to try to be his friend, and she had been trying to since the day she was born.

as the years passed, daphne started to realize that she had been more angry at her sister than she should have been. because it wasn’t tori’s fault. that was just her personality, her way of being. and it was the complete opposite to daphne’s.

but that was fine. because that’s how it would always be. and it was fine.

by the end of tori’s third year, the sisters got along better than ever, and when astoria came out as trans, the first person she told was her sister.

⋆ after the war and post-hogwarts:

vincent’s death deeply affected the group, and they took their time to meet again, the first time where they were “all” together after the war. all of them tried to continue their lives as well as they could, as most death eaters end up in azkaban, which means most of their parents ended there.

neither of them, except astoria, continued their studies at hogwarts.

it was almost two years after the war that draco and astoria announced they were dating.

it was shooking, for most of them. it felt like a betrayal to her, as astoria, daphne’s sister, the person she loved the most, knew how madly in love theo, daph’s soulmate and bestfriend, was with draco. by that time, she felt like she had to pick a side, like they had to choose who to stand and who to comfort.

it was during that time that millicent moved away with her father, and him and daphne broke up. and that astoria’s health started to get worse.

they all went to the wedding, but daphne, as she looked to all the faces she knew, found it hard to remember every single one of them had once trust the other more than anything. that they had been a team. friends. the best of them.

the war had fucked them up, or maybe, they were all fucked up since the beginning.

all of them kept contact with each other, after all.

they finally all reunited when scorpius was born.

it was draco who told her of astoria.

it was him who appeared in her house, a hot summer night, with silent tears in his cheeks.

the funeral was the last time blaise, pansy, draco, gregory and millicent saw her.

she moved away, as far away as she could from all of them. and slowly stopped answering theo’s letters.

the last news theo got from her were a polaroid photo she had taken of him, with vincents camera during one of the summers in her house. him sitting next to draco, while the others talked laying on the group, smiling, neither of them realizing she was taking that photo.

[shoehedd]

This is King Kobold. One of the secondary (and now recurring) Antagonists in A Star of Chrome.

Storywise he was just the boss of the first real dungeon in the game. his bossfight was basically the boss Moblin from Link's Awakening and after you beat him you would claim the item giving him his odd flaming halo. But you know, I like his sprite so much that I wanted him to show up a little more. And then I ended up drawing his wife (who I'll post later) and now they both occupy a strange, Team Rocket sized shape in the story. They are now all over the early part of the game. I just cant stop having you fight them.

He's also like 60% Balrog from Cave Story and 40% King Koopa

He started life as a slightly smaller sprite, a pig-like orc cowboy. But as time went on and the game started to kind of take on a bit of character I started looking at the goblins in the game a little differently. I've always figured French Bulldogs look like little goblin dogs, and so the goblins in the game changed.

Way too many colours here... And so the orc boss became King Kobold, seeing as he's the leader of some dog-like goblins. And so Anthro designs started creeping into the game..

Tbh I think I lucked into a character design shortcut, which is to say, if you don't know what someone should look like but you know their personality, there is an animal out there that fits the bill. Just put a damn anthro in your game and don't explain it, like the president in DBZ, he's just a dog man. Don't think about it too hard. Furries? Friend this is 2023, furries are our friends

[danwhobrowses]

That Time I was All In: Written Review

Less than 24 hours ago I was in a record-breaking event, among 81K other wrestling fans and my first ever live wrestling show. So I'm gonna detail my time at the event in segments. We shall start with the general experience here, and then I will put as many photos as I can put within Tumblr limits (which means I may have to spread it out a few days) that I took from my phone which aren't absolute crap or obscured by flailing hands, signs and foam fingers XD

I will try to pair them in the hashtag #danwhosallin

[pictures p1: Boxpark] [pictures p2: Zero Hour 1] [pictures p3: Zero Hour 2] [pictures p4: Main Card 1] [pictures p5: Main Card 2] [pictures p6: Main Card 3] [pictures p7: Main Card 4] [pictures p8: Main Card 5] [pictures p9: Main Card 6] [pictures p10: Main Card 7] [pictures p11: Misc]

So without further ado, let's talk about my experience.

My journey to Wembley started on Saturday morning. I had purchased to attend the Box Park party, promised to have meet & greet, early access merch and a £10 voucher for food and drink. Problem however is that I don't live too near to London, and I had only ever been to Wembley once for an England football game vs Montenegro - which much to our disappointment was a direly boring 0-0 draw, so I had to leave for a 7:48 train, I came out the wrong stop where it ate up my ticket and had to walk to the box park, and I was met with a familiar British custom.

Queues.

It may be associated with Brits but we fucking hate queuing, we just uphold a level of decorum when it comes to cutting in, this queue was like an advanced game of Snake, every time you went around a bend there was another bend, then right at Wembley rampway there was zigzag queues, you got wristbands then zigzagged more just to get into the building and: more queues!

All this queuing sadly meant I could hear but missed Jericho, Bryan and the Acclaimed addressing the crowd while in the queue, but I made it in for Tony Schiavone - prompted to curse by RJ City, Lethal and Satnam doing Woos, Jarrett struts and a Macho Man impression, Nigel McGuinness doing some Derren Brown magic with Singh and Lethal (picked the smallest woman in the crowd to lift and neither could lift after the trick) and then Jarrett and Karen doing a Q&A. The Q&A was pretty insightful actually, he talked about mental health, a Terry Funk story, Grado teases, his hatred of Hogan, he outwardly confronted a guy who asked Karen who was better in bed between him and Angle. Hobbs was also in the building, I spotted him when queuing to the merch stand, Aubrey was doing an AEW Heels table too and Rosario Grillo & Dean Alexander (The Young Bucks' 'stunt double' were outside taking a break). There was also an action figure box to pose in, and I did a photo with Lethal and Satnam, the dude is fucking massive, I had to pose with 2 other strangers for time reasons and that was it. If I'm honest I probably wouldn't do it again, you queue more than you explore.

That experience led me to arrive to Wembley on Sunday much earlier, I got there about 2:30, an hour before doors will open. I had an overpriced ice cream that would unwittingly be the last thing I ate for 23 hours and slowly soaked in the surroundings; cosplay, various shirts from AEW and other companies (the guy in the Hana Kimura shirt behind commentary was on my train), there were a pair in full Bret and Bulldog cosplay too. I noticed the Cultaholic guys by their logo and they offered to interview me on 4 questions, though I am a little embarrassed by some of my answers, I said that Rey Mysterio was the most underrated wrestler given how much he overcame, which is still a statement I maintain but if I were asked again I would probably say the most underrated is Malenko, a great technician who never got his flowers. Also a slight addendum since while I would have Chad Gable in AEW like I said I'd probably pick Io Shirai ahead of him.

Regardless, a few steps forward soaking things in I found myself in the path of a woman with her phone up dressed in purple, I wasn't sure if it was a vlog or a panoramic picture but then I realised something:

Oh shit that's Emi Sakura

Had I been half a bit braver I probably would've asked her for a photo, but seeing her taking it in as a fan - alongside Lulu, Mei was apparently at the event but I didn't see her - made me reconsider, wrestlers are people too.

Getting into the stadium was weird, they had me queue at Turnstile G, but I had to go all the way to Turnstile C's area to reach the block I'd enter through. The fact that my wristband said 'Pitch Access' made me realise how grossly I had underestimated my closeness to the ring. I just had to soak that in too, I was on the pitch, four rows from ringside! People were still coming in halfway into the pre-show, that just showed how much were coming.

Attending a wrestling event also had its pros and cons. When the Pre-Show started we could only see the matches, all the packages and interviews done by Renee and Kip were not shown to us, which is a major shame and also kept us out of loop such as people cheering far back and not knowing that's RJ interviewing audience members, and even though there's a chance of getting on tv there's also the chance that people with signs and foam fingers will get in the way of your FOV especially when they feel the camera's on them 90% of the time. Security would also keep asking us to sit down at times, something the ringside seats seemed exempt from, meaning anything outside the ring couldn't really be seen unless on a time delay on the screen. I also felt like the bass of the crowd noise wasn't pitchside, we were chanting and loud but not as loud at it would seem on a tv screen, much of that would've came from the stands (given the larger amount of people there) but it made it hard to hear. But on the other side you get to see the downtime stuff too, so we got to cheer for Tony, Justin, Bryce, Aubrey and Hobbs before the cameras rolled, I also spotted Whatculture's Simon Miller to massive surprise (Oku and Leon Slater were also among the security beaten by Miro and Hobbs).

Pre-show was good, but since we were only privy to the matches it was a bit quiet, part of me thought the Hobbs stuff was just for the attendees, it irked me that no women's match was on either; could've put Emi in a 10 woman tag with Nyla, Bunny, Penelope and Taya vs faces like Itoh (since she's facing Nyla for TJPW), Sky Blue, Riho, maybe even Billie and Athena. Or could've just had a 4-way of Ruby, Diamante, Willow and Mercedes Martinez to determine the TBS title contender. Still, people were into it, Grado made his much teased appearance - no Like a Prayer though - Cole and MJF actually won the ROH tag titles, and HOOK and Jack Perry put on a nice little no rules match which saw Jack get scraped up pretty good by the real glass - I only heard about the altercation this morning, I don't really have thoughts on it - but it was a matter that the 2 hours could've offered more wrestling, even if it was unaired matches for the audience not seeing the promos. Mercedes Moné appeared on the tron 3 times, but each time I grabbed my phone to snap a photo the screen moved away, leading to me cursing each time XD Also TK promotions of the Fulham game and Jacksonville Jaguars games were met with loud boos, it was hilarious.

From the main card though it was just all fun and entertainment. Watching wrestling live is a bit slower, but fan engagement does make it more enjoyable. Wembley was 90% Samoa Joe territory, and while that opened the door for some Punk shithousery with Cena and Hogan moves we all knew he was keeping his X Division unofficial belt. In fact the biggest pop he got was simply hovering around a trans rights sign, but make no mistake people are cheering the sign in that case. It surprised me that the Elite matches came straight after, the trios match was good but it never hit full gear, we kept trying to will the Golden Elite on but their momentum often got stifled. That being said, shit does Takeshita and Ibushi hit each other hard, you could see them rattling their opponents, the Gunns were also quite entertaining at ringside but the finish caught us all by surprise. The Bucks/FTR match was good, it was a slow burner and the Bucks' streamers stuck to the scaffolding for the rest of the night but as much as the audience were Anti-Punk and Pro-Kenny they weren't exactly Pro-Bucks either, also chants of 'Please don't shoot me' for Cash was a bit tongue in cheek.

Stadium Stampede may not have been everyone's cup of tea, and alas I didn't get the pleasure of seeing someone obliterated at my feet, but dammit it was one of my favourite matches. The BCC walked down a few rows away from me, but people were swarming to them so I didn't bother trying there. I could spot Kingston up in the stands brawling with Claudio, and while yes there were some botches and unwilling equipment, there were a lot of fun and brutal spots, including Penta hitting some chair shots that did not look like they were protected (maybe a gimmicked chair?). And Eddie is fucking over, that man will destroy the metaphorical roof when he becomes world champion. The women's match was fun too, lots of good wrestling there, however between the Buck's Freddie Mercury gear and Saraya coming out to We Will Rock You I did again think back to Emi Sakura missing out, and other people using her shtick. As much as the crowd loved it I also was a bit let down that Saraya won, because there was little reason to put the title on Shida in the end - and I was really hoping Shida could retain in a PPV in front of a crowd for once - but to their credit they did build Saraya's face turn well in the match, the PTO/Curb Stomp combo to Toni was pretty awesome too.

The Coffin match was fun, I actually expected more interference, but there were a lot of hefty bumps. English Oak tables too sturdy to break once though we'd find, as Sting needed two attempts to send Swerve through it. Sting was a lot of fun here, Swerve was great too and his blue robe was pretty awesome. Jericho/Ospreay though, fuck what a match that was; we have to start considering Ospreay as one the best in the world because he keeps on delivering. I never had doubts that Jericho could put on this performance at the big stage, his snap rana caught me by surprise though, and while he is no Freddie (who is?) his Fozzy entrance was fun, surprised Sammy didn't turn either it felt like we were gonna linger on it. The Trios title was good too, good on Julia - who like the other HoB members rocked the white outfit, and the Bray lantern - for taking a bump too. Wembley loves the Acclaimed but we also loved us some Brody 'woof' King, right result in the end too and maybe a HoB face turn or at least a show of respect, it definitely set us up for the big finale.

And what a finale, fans were high on both but it was Adam Cole who played the heel for most of the match, the absolutely grisly brainbuster on the edge of the steps, but the dramatic tension was palpable throughout. It was the right move not to turn either too, and the draw fakeout too was great for fan engagement, we ate it all up, and news that they'll come back next year was met with much approval and confetti - some of which I grabbed for keepsakes. TK even came into the ring to close the night, no boos there.

After the show I hovered around to find Simon Miller's live Ups & Downs show, you can only see me briefly because we were all squished like sardines, the girls chanting for Willow was by my suggestion though, but after the recording Simon was nice enough to see us all and to do photos. It was a late and long travel back because it was a lot of last calls for trains (last calls that lasted 2 minutes), very tight, very warm, then I slept for 5 hours XD Airbeds suck y'know?

So yeah, a long weekend but a great show. Even the best show isn't perfect of course but that doesn't subtract it from being great. All in 2024 will be different however, the first time can carry on being the first time, but the second will depend on the card. But the fans were still great, signs and obstruction aside it's not like they mean it, many of them were very friendly, so it was all a good time.

Match of the Night: For me it's the main event just edging Stadium Stampede and Ospreay/Jericho, the story won out in investment Best Entrance: Jericho with the Fozzy entrance for me, Saraya's was nice with her family and Jack Perry in the limo was decent but Jericho takes the best one easily Best Attire: Toughest one to pick because of how many good ones there were but the one that stuck with me was Swerve's blue robe Best Performance: Ospreay for wrestling, Cole and MJF for storytelling Spot of the Night: Adam Cole's Brainbuster on MJF on the steps, it was a spot where you had to be inch perfect because it was right on the line of the steps, and MJF sold it like he was murdered

[linewire]

thanks @carronyaflowers for tagging hehe

1. Are you named after anyone?

Yes. My first name is from my dad’s name and my second is from my grandfather’s.

I was supposed to be called Floralinda if my mom got to name me after my grandmother tho.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Yesterday cuz I read a post that made me tear up.

3. Do you have kids?

Nope. In this economy?

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Yes?

5. What sports do you play/have you played?

All the sports I was forced to do in PE but badminton’s my fav.

6. What's the first thing you notice about other people?

How they’re dressed cuz a lot of people around me still wear masks.

7. Scary movies or happy ending?

I don’t like getting scared for fun so happy ending ig?

8. Any special talents?

Having full conversations with myself in the mirror in front of my bed and taking unflattering pictures of my dogs.

9. Where were you born?

Hospital near my childhood home.

10. What are your hobbies?

Writing, drawing (tho i used to do it more before), crocheting, reading, scrapbooking, and researching (that’s kinda how i got into f1 by just looking up shit about it)

11. Do you have any pets?

3 dogs, a chow chow, a bulldog, and a corgi

i used to have a beta fish but my mom killed it because she forgot to feed it while i was away. i didn’t name it because i knew i was gonna get too attached

i also used to have a pot of rocket arugula that i treated like a pet and that was called ablestar after a rocket

12. How tall are you?

the average height for Filipino women

13. Fave subject in school?

chemistry or english (the two genders)

14. Dream job?

librarian or a public speaker so like the two ends on the spectrum in terms of talking

15. Eye colour?

dirt brown

tagging @dreamingamongthestars @scuderiafemboy @verclercswiftie if yall haven’t done it yet!!

[wrestlezon]

dynamite 3/22/23 (live)blog containment zone

we started late again...

omg… hospital for the bucks… theyre doing it. theyre progressing the elite story hangman… in the ambulance… omega gets left behind… OOOOO theyre DOIN IT….

[orange + sting & darby vs kip + butcher and the blade]

sheesh lol orange's facepaint :)c kip periwinkle'd his hair kip is cool because i look at him and know exactly what his deal is. he is a my chemical romance tumblrman when i can look at a wrestler and understand what their deal is? thats good mcr tumblrman is not even my thing but i appreciate him having style. and panache i also like his goofy sinister mindgames at orange. i also like that they WORK on orange. he got under his skin! he made orange of all people snap! such a good rivalry kip: yes! the crowd: BOOOOOOO the crowd: yaaaaaay kip: yeah thats more like it!!! sting: 🧍‍♂️ kip: 😰 that was a cute ending! i liked that lmao orange is knighting sting

[video for the pillars 4way]

ooooo theyre finally pulling the trigger on the pillars 4way…

[video for kenny vs vikingo]

whoops i missed this because i was getting a snack. despite whatever the hell is going on on twitter i dont need a video package to enjoy a good match tho

[gunn club vs top flight]

the gunns outfit today? insane unbelievably im having a hard time concentrating on this match because im lost in the bliss of chips + yogurt

oh no… ftr leaves aew if they lose… well. i wont get mad

[backstage with jade & mark sterling]

so fucking funny that mark sterling's letterhead logo is 1) GIANT and 2) FULL BLACK. the printer ink!!!!

[stokely vs hook]

soooo excited for this lmfao stokely pulling the not medically cleared card. AND retiring again just to seal the deal "HE IS SICK!!!" love how the security guard action jumped into the chair stokely screaming quoting 2pac? god. killing him with that chair just holding up stokely!! hook is so strong dead. killed him

oh my god matt hardy encouraging ethan page to avenge stokely This Is How Matt Hardy Can Get Revenge

[adam cole!]

yay adam cole what a face. hes not going to do a heelturn, right? at least not anytime soon i wonder who he is fighting LMAO DANIEL GARCIA… oh my god. his entire capital L Look ok cole is def not gonna do a heelturn if hes up against garcia

[backstage with kenny and don callis]

ooooo theyre doing ittttttt… theres strife… oooo

[moxley vs stu]

uno's mask is soooo shiny get him stu!!!!!!! cool pose on the ropes, moxley lmfao claudio yawning?? whoa what a loose slam by moxley. big flip off the corner by stu!! very cool oooh moxley's counter into bulldog was also cool backpack moxley huh, whats going on with moxley's ear? oh its bandage

lmao yuta "we're off the clock! 🙄"

[backstage with ricky starks]

mad about beefin with juice? yea oh theyre finally gonna fight? on rampage!

[QTV?]

little baby drawing on the cubicle lmao this footage is rj city in the background of this bit too? i thought it was funny he was in the first one like they just took over his office and started being really cringe in there and hes just like 🙄 well ok then

[toni storm vs skye blue]

booo outcasts. yay skye blue whoa that was a swift and snappy suplex thing by toni. that crowd person is loud, whoever they are

nooo dont spraypaint her ! the women's facesquad has appeared riho!! wlilow!!

rampage being on saturday… when i was in 3rd grade i got into an argument with the neighbor boy about wwe not being on whatever day it was supposed to be on and bet him 5 dollars about it. i won and didnt get 5 dollars because thats an astronomical amount in like 90s dollars

[backstage with stu]

oh no stu's arm moxley LMAO i love how the BCC are just backstage rascals now like if you wander around backstage you better watch out because you might get into a lv50 random encounter with the BCC

[kenny vs vikingo]

SON OF KING VIKING lmfao kenny's intro having so much shade in it. that's don callis' doing, right omg that dude's superkick party sign is so extreme kenny oooooooooomegaaaaaaaaaa!!! his theme is sooooooo good. god we havent heard it in so long right? because theyve been coming out to journey this whole time? is this kenny's first solo match back omg! vikingo tope whoa??? implosion hurricarana?? dude has been doing nothing but the sickest of flips no! kenny, no! drop it…. drop it!!! no table! cmon theres no need for this!! lmao he is being so badguy. hair pulling!! this rules. we get to see all the top-tier precision moves because these are insane toptier wrestlers these guys are doing SO MANY apron/off the ring moves right now omg balance: unparalleled ??????????? phoenix splash "you can see it in his eyes! ill intent" now hes just killing a ragdoll "swan-diving reverse hurricanrana!!" my friend is yelling about how we've never seen any of these moves in our lives and yet they have names according to excalibur holy shit a 630 what?? vikingo did like a million rotations lmfao vikingo rolling up and all the way around kenny omega to get him into a pin??? omg you straight up cannot blink in this match kenny won!

OH MY GOSH ITS THE BCC sirens?? HANGMAN STOLE AN AMBULANCE???? what is that. what is his weapon oh its a plank with nails in it. why is it spraypainted black !!!! CALLIS he is such a LIAR!!!!!!!! SNAKE!!!!!!!!! OUGHH!!!! im making an angry wojak face right now

[tumbling-tumbleweeeds]

Thanks to @mickgaydolenz @vintagecocacolainthesun and @rollingthunderevue for tagging me!! 😭😭

1. are you named after anyone? Umm yes i think my parents named me after an actor that they liked

2. when was the last time you cried? Two days ago?

3. do you have any kids? No. And i dont want kids

4. do you use sarcasm a lot? Yep

5. what's the first thing you notice about other people? Usually their hair style/ colour

6. what's your eye color? Blueish grey

7. scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings! I dont like scary movies 🥲

8. any special talents? Drawing and music?

9. where were you born? Canada :)

10. what are your hobbies? Drawing, listening to music, playing different instruments, and watching tv? Its not really a hobby but it’s something i do all the time lmao

11. have any pets? YES I HAVE THE CUTEST FRENCH BULLDOG EVER SHE IS THE BEST

12. what sports do you play/have played? I was never really into sports but i like roller skating and ice skating

13. how tall are you? 5,6

14. favourite subject in school? Science and business are my best classes since i have good teachers but im excited for history next semester. I might also look for a career in business, idk

15. dream job? Literally no idea. I just say business as a possible career option for some sort of stability but i honestly dont know if its for me

Im too tired to tag anyone but if u see this feel welcome to join. Actually, no, feel pressured to join if u see this.

[tropical-lycan]

Are you named after anyone:

My dead name is based on a famous German actress from the 1930s! (and no she wasn't standing for ...You know which political man of that time)

When was the last time you cried:

Probably last week while thinking about who would die in my future slasher fanfic LMAO

Do you have kids:

Nope and I don't plan to have any :') Kids have never been my thing (some of them are cute and nice but I always feel uncomfortable with them around because they are too loud)

Do you use sarcasm a lot:

YESSS which is funny because my neuro ass have trouble understanding sarcasm sometimes

What sports do you play/have played:

I don't really like sports tbh it has never been my thing. I did many different sports at school but there are too many for me to remember (and I didn't really like any, aside of running maybe?)

AND YEAH if you wonder why I love AFTG while not being into sports at all-> for me it has always been more of a mafia /LGBTQ+ story around outcast young adults than something about sports (Exy is more used as a plot device)

What's the first thing you notice about people:

Their eyes!

What's your eye color:

Brown?? Orange-ish brown idk how you call this haha depends of the light!!

Scary movies or happy endings:

BOTHHHHHH

Any special talents:

I'm an artist! And sometimes I write a bit, aside of this I think I lack talent lol I also play video games but I'm not very good at them

Where were you born:

In Colmar, it's a city in France

What are your hobbies:

Games, reading, watching movies or shows, drawing of course, hanging out with my friends

Do you have pets:

I don't own pets yet, but my mother has a French Bulldog and a Mountain Bernese Dog.

How tall are you:

Around 160 cm...I think more like 158??

Favorite subject in school:

It used to be French, English and History, I also kinda liked Biology but I never was good at it...

Dream job:

Idk but I'd love to work on fiction!! I'm gonna be an English teacher tho, but I never saw this as my dream job

Tagging

@pepeshka , @fortheloveofexy , @danka-and-the-demons , @ca-van , @luneillusoire , @amityillustration , @anthemisarts , @noomyart , @ivaalo , @rigelweiss , @flamesofmoonx

15 Questions 15 Mutuals

I was tagged by @oh-goodness-loki - TYSM dear!!!

1. Are you named after anyone? No... my Mom liked the name. (I hate it btw, and have taken on another in day-to-day life.)

2. When was the last time you cried? The other day, watching "For all mankind" (which is better than I had thought it would be?!)

3. Do you have kids? A daughter.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot? MEEEEEE???? ^^

5. What sports do you play/have played? I used to ride. Stopped when I got pregnant.

6. What's the first thing you notice about people? Whether they hold eye-contact, maybe?

7. What's your eye color? Dark brown.

8. Scary movies or happy endings? Depends. I don't like torture movies, but I do not like overly saccharine stuff either. Aliens as a prime example for both?! :)

9. Any special talents? Errr.... I used to have a lyrical soprano... wanted to be an opera singer once upon a time.

10. Where were you born? Skipping, sorry.

11. What are your hobbies? Reading, video games, music, vampires. I also read a lot.

12. Do you have pets? I have a cat, Mo.

13. How tall are you? 5'4"

14. Favorite subject in school? Biology and philosophy

15. Dream job? Not sure. I used to love my job a lot, but now it's more and more meetings and... well.

Tagging:

@prigorie @isabellehemlock @lynnenne, @thefairylights @slutaciouslestat @inkyblotposts @burstingbone @blackgirlasis @alcassin @shashiatnight @anannua @dreamofme9 @danissa10 @redversaillesrose @onlymywishfulthinking ... and whoever wants to!

(Feel free to ignore this if you don't want to, obviously^^)

[matthewtkachuk]

why do you think that strangers gonna mind with PLD??? 💚💚💚

hi love, hope you don't mind this being a little late ❤️

pairing: pierre-luc dubois x reader

warnings: mentions of cyber bullying, fangirls being mean :/

word count: 1k

why do you think that strangers gonna mind

You’re not a stranger to unsavoury comments made about you on the internet. In the eighth grade you’d pissed off the wrong group of girls in your school and ended up drawing their ire vis a vis facebook. At the time it had been the worst thing ever, with constant harassment and even a private facebook group made to shit talk you, but looking back it was pretty funny that they were threatened by your friendship with one of their (and you use the term very loosely) boyfriends.

Now? Now every bit of social media you had was locked down or deleted. Instagram and twitter? Private. Facebook? A variation of your first and middle names that you’d told everyone was because you didn’t want future employers finding you. LinkedIn and Pinterest? Deleted. Spotify? Fake name.

The reason for that was simple.

Your boyfriend was a professional athlete and fangirls be crazy. You’d managed to fly under the radar for a lot longer than you thought you ever would, lasting more than a year and an international trade before an errant ponytail on your boyfriend’s wrist during an interview had the internet sleuths of instagram on your tail.

The tiny, insignificant detail had brought attention to the fact that he was likely dating someone, and from there you can only speculate it was a careless tag that led them straight to you. In the beginning, you’d never thought of making your account private. Really, you had 300 followers tops, and most of them were people you’d gone to school with throughout the years. It never crossed your mind in the early months of dating Pierre, especially since you’d never actually posted him on your feed, only tagging him in your insta stories that disappeared alongside the experiences together.

Even after you’d been found out, it hadn’t been a cute selfie of the two of you on your couch that nailed the final nail in your coffin. In fact, it wasn’t Pierre at all, it was a totally cute, totally innocent picture of Pierre’s bulldogs sleeping alongside your lab daschund cross. That had been enough though, firmly cementing you as the mystery girl whose ponytail had been around Pierre’s wrist.

Very quickly, you’d had to limit your comments and not much longer you went private entirely. Yet, somehow, particularly determined fans were able to make their way to your filtered messages and sent you insults through the messaging systems of other less conspicuous apps. You can’t really explain why, but you don’t really tell Pierre the whole truth behind your social media cleanse. Deflecting a little, you minimize the situation, stating it was ‘only a fan or two’ and it was just a good idea to lock it down before things got too insane.

And then they’d found your LinkedIn, the one you’d made in college because the career guidance staff told you that you’d needed one. Luckily, you hadn’t updated it since you were a sophomore and so the only information anyone was able to glean from it was long outdated and didn’t tell them much. Although you were pretty sure that the restaurant you’d worked at part time through college was receiving an uptick in patronage. Honestly good for them, if they’d offered a better salary and health benefits and your boyfriend hadn’t been traded to Canada of all places, you might have stayed long term.

As it stands, you’re in Winnipeg and Pierre is too, and above anything else you’re young and in love and Pierre, rightfully so, wants to plaster you all over his instagram. It should make your face warm, cause your heart to beat a little faster than is medically necessary. It doesn’t though, it just fills you with an awkward sense of dread that is proven rational by the comments Pierre doesn’t see and the messages you don’t show him.

You’re relatively confident in yourself, having learned to love the body you were blessed with a long time ago, and you know that more than anything you have a good and kind heart, but yet you can’t help but let the awful things that strangers say about you take root in your heart.

It has you protesting the next time he wants to post a video of you playing with the dogs onto his story - at first, playfully wrestling for his phone to delete the photo until the air turns thick with tension as you all but demand he not post it.

It’s not until he asks what’s going on that you break, pulling your dog onto your lap and tearfully admitting you don’t want to hear what strangers on the internet are going to say about you.

“Why do you think that strangers are gonna mind?” he asks and you can’t help the sarcastic laugh that leaves your lips. Your dog whines quietly at the heartbreaking sound and you comfort her with a hand running down her back.

You admit it all then, the taunts and the insults and the threats. The real reason behind your social media purge and the twinge of fear that lights up your insides every time you see the little notification pop up on your phone.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” you tell him after he asks why you never told him what was going on.

“I want to know what’s going on with you always,” he protests and you relax into his embrace on the couch. “If you don’t want me to post you on my instagram anymore I won’t, but I like to show you off.” The grin on his face is so endearing, canine teeth on display that you can’t resist the urge to kiss it right off him.

You let him post it, and every other post he wants that features you, including one a year and a half later that focuses on a pretty little ring on your left hand.

After all, who cares if a stranger minds?

[sapphicscholar]

Day 2: Favorite Minor Character

I know this in’t necessarily a popular answer, but Marcus! (I realize he could be thought of as a main character, but I think of Hacks as a dyad-driven show, leaving him in a murky middle ground)

We meet Marcus right when things with Deborah’s residency are going to shit and so much of the world he's built his life on is being pulled out from under him. He's been working for Deborah since he was 18, which I think gets glossed over a lot in some of the moments where it's easy to be annoyed at Marcus. 18 is so young! When he started, he was just this bright-eyed gay kid who drove his mom's car all the way to DC to see his campy, diva comedy idol perform, and I'd honestly love for us to catch more glimpses of that Marcus. 

In season one, when Marcus is the one saying no to the new act, I think it's all too easy to read him as the party pooper who doesn't *get* Deborah or respect the art of her comedy. Instead, he's out there reminding her that the old act works and saying, hey, you've still got commitments to QVC that you can't just blow off. And honestly? In a business empire? Someone's gotta do that. That Cheesecake Factory water bill won't pay itself! 

But he’s still that kid that gave up his entire adulthood to work for someone who he admired first and foremost as a comic. 

And he’s still the person/partner who's gone on every other "retreat" with Deborah--often enough that she knows his favorite souvenirs to bring home; often enough that he’s deeply hurt by her decision to abandon him in Vegas.

So to me, it's not that the Marcus we meet in season 1 doesn't care about Deborah as a complex person or a comic; it's that he's being actively shut out of those conversations about her changing wants. 

We see the way Ava draws Deborah out of her shell throughout the season (in large part through sheer determination and brash assholery), but we also kinda get that it's not exactly model employee behavior. (It's why they're so fun to ship because at no point does it really seem like Ava's gunning for employee of the year so much as she's gunning for a spot in the inner circle and the intimacy that comes with both fighting and confiding.) But as I’ve said before, I think Deborah's own wants and desires were, for a long time, not particularly self-evident, even to her, and as the performance of Deborah Vance(TM) grew more and more calcified, she became more and more unknowable to Marcus and the other people in her life. So he might not be giving her what she wants now, but he definitely thinks he’s ensuring she has what she needs. 

He’s definitely not perfect (thank god for it), but he cares deeply for Deborah (even loves her), and we’re finding him at the exact moment he’s confronting the possibility that everything he’s worked his entire adult life to build for Deborah might be the first thing she’ll choose to topple. It’s just such an interesting place of immanent-crisis to find someone! 

Anyway, my dreams for S2 are to see the return of the enthusiasm double-puka-shell-necklace-wearing baby gay Marcus brought to Deborah’s DC show as they take this new one on the road. After all, what kinds of memories will this second tour bring up for him and Deborah? What sorts of reconciliations and conversations might it prompt? (And, apparently, we’re also getting bulldog-harness-wearing Marcus trying to find himself out on the road, which, honestly, I’m fucking here for that, too.)