#loopey is awesome

[onepiecepositivityproject]

For @loopeyfluff:

HI LOOPEY!!!! I JUST WANTED TO SAY I HOPE YOURE HAVING AN AWESOME DAY AND THAT YOUR ART IS SO SO SO FREAKING COOL AND ALSO YOU DESERVE TO DO WHATEVER YOU WANT ALL THE TIME CAUSE YOU'RE AWESOME!!!!!!!!!!!! keep doing what you do bro it genuinely makes a difference, you're changing lives !!!!!!! <3

[tokuvivor]

Duckverse June Week 1: Storytime

I think this will be fun to get into! And since I can’t really draw, I’m gonna write my own short pieces revolving around the prompts!

So now for the first one. I give you…

I Go Where the Sky Takes Me

“Oh, yeah, this is the life,” proclaimed Launchpad.

“You said it,” agreed Dewey.

It was a beautiful day in Duckburg. The two friends were sitting beside the pool, sitting in beach chairs and drinking lemonade.

It was the kind of day where you couldn’t see a cloud in the sky, where it looked like the blue could stretch on forever. Launchpad, in particular, liked to just look up at sky sometimes. It didn’t matter to him whether it was day or night; he just really enjoyed it.

“Wow,” he said. “You know, Dewey, when you’ve been flying for as long as I have, the sky just looks completely different when you’re on the ground.”

“Doesn’t seem that different to me,” Dewey commented.

“Trust me, you’ll know when you see it someday,” Launchpad proclaimed. “When you’re an awesome pilot, like me or your mom.”

“Well, I hope so!” Dewey chirped. “So tell me, Launchpad. What’s it like having been a pilot for so long?”

“It’s kinda crazy to think about sometimes,” Launchpad replied. “Since my whole family has been in the flying biz, I was pretty much born in the air. Well, actually, I was born on the ground. But yeah, piloting has just kinda been in my blood.”

“Do you get to see your family often?” Dewey wondered.

“Nah,” sighed Launchpad. “Mom checks in every once in a while, but Dad’s usually busy with his stunts. They’ve been trying to get him to retire for some time, but he always says, ‘If you want me to step down, you’re going to have to pry the controls from my cold, dead hands!’”

“What about your, uh, sister?”

“Loopey’s a stuntwoman herself, and she works alongside Dad quite a bit,” Launchpad explained. “When she and I were kids, Mom and Dad loved taking us to whatever air show they were performing at. It’s really kinda how our love for piloting developed.”

“What shows have you gone to?” quizzed Dewey.

“Oh, lots. Mom and Dad took us all around the country. We’ve seen nearly every trick in the book. We’ve even been to shows in other countries, like France, the United Kingdom, and even South Korea,” Launchpad reminisced.

“Any that stick out to you the most?” asked Dewey.

“Well,” said Launchpad, drumming his fingers on his leg, “there was a show we went to when I was 10 in North Cawolina. Mom and Dad told us that after they were done, they’d take us somewhere special. So after the show, the four of us went to this park. It had a couple of hangars, and this huge monument. Dad explained to me and Loopey that we were standing on the location where the first sustained, powered aircraft was launched in 1903. It was made by these two brothers, and they actually took a few different tries at it before the plane was damaged. The longest flight was just under a minute.”

“Just shy of a minute?” Dewey questioned. “That’s not super long.”

“Well, seeing as the brothers were basically the first to do what they did, that’s pretty successful. Especially with how flimsy the craft was,” Launchpad explained.

“That’s cool, though,” Dewey interjected. “You were actually where the first sustained flight happened.”

“I’ve probably got some stuff somewhere in the garage from that trip,” Launchpad grinned. “A bunch of photos, plus this biplane clock that Dad used to own. Wanna go check it out?”

“Of course!” exclaimed Dewey.

And with that, the two friends, empty glasses in hand, set out towards the garage to find the box full of Launchpad’s memories of aviation history.

[luimagines]

a scenario where the reader flusters the chain pleas <:3

- bestie anon

Masterlist

Coming right up Bestie!

Part one will include Time, Warrior and Wind.

Content under the cut!

Time

You were on a mission. This man was stoic as hell. As much as you tried to tease and flirt and embarrass, Time would not crack. Not only did he seem to have infinite patience, but he was so.. passive to whatever you did.

It was almost insulting, the amount of effort you’d put into it only to get little to no response.

And then you got hurt.

It... could have been worse. But a hit to the head is a hit to the head and you were to be monitored foe the night.

It was late. The kind of the late where people begin to question their lives and their worlds and their perception of the universe. Perfect for an existential crisis. Time was awake with you, making sure you didn’t fall asleep on your concussion.

You were tired and a bit loopey and you knew it if only from the reactions you seemed to be getting throughout the day. Which was fine. That won’t stop you from being honest. You stared at Time as he stared into the fire, seeming to not notice where you had placed your attention. He seemed concerned, with his eyebrows furrowed. In retrospect, he looked pissed. But you couldn’t think about what for.

The boys were asleep and it was the perfect moment to speak.

“Time.” You call silently. He doesn’t respond.

“Link?” You try again and this time he snaps out whatever funk he found himself in. He turns to you. “Yes?”

“Are you ok?”

“I’m fine, My Dear.” He says. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired.” You sigh. “Are you sure you’re ok? Everything is going to be ok.”

“I know.”

“You’re really smart and brave. You’ve been taking really good care of all of us.” You lay back down, speaking your pure stream of consciousness out loud. “And you’re really cool. There’s nothing you can’t do. It’s why the boys look up to you so much. Why I like you. I trust you. We all do. You’re important to us. You’re important to me. Thing’s are going to be ok. Just breath. It’s alright.”

Time’s breath hitches just beyond you and you can hear him move. You’ve looked away at some point as you were speaking. You don’t know when.

“You’re also really strong. Like super strong. I bet you can pick up Twilight and he’s... all muscle. I would Warrior but he’s skinny. ....Mostly bone. We have to get him to eat more.”

Time laughs somewhere near you.

“Wind also tries to copy you. I don’t know if you’ve seen him. He loves you. We all love you.” You try to get up but firm hands on your shoulders stop you. your eyes finally focus in front of you.

Time is beet red and smiling like a fool. Your tired mind tells you that he’s laughing at you.

“Time, I’m serious!” You borderline shout.

Time brings a finger to his lips and shushes you but you bulldoze on.

“You’re amazing and great and a hero. You’re so cool. Twilight is so trying to be you. He wants to emulate everything about you.”

“Ok, ok!” He whisper yells. It calms you down somewhat.

He’s laughing. Giggling, even. Like a fool. 

“You’re impossible.” He says gently. He puts you back down against your bedroll and adjusts the bandages around your head. You had forgotten they were there.

You frown. “You’re awesome.”

“Thank you.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

“Say it.”

Time rolls his eyes and brushes the hair from your face. “I’m awesome.”

You’re satisfied. 

Warrior

Warrior wouldn’t have suspected a thing. You have had enough of Warrior being able to throw one witty one liner your way and it leaves you stutter stumbling through out the rest of the day without being able to form a coherent thought.

That being said you wanted to think about something that would really make him think about it.

You got it.

You steeled your nerve and walked around the camp to his side and pointedly took a seat. “Hey.”

Warrior looks at you. “Hello.”

You smile as charmingly as you can manage. “I have a question for you Captain.”

Warrior raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by your actions. “Alright.”

“What does it take to make you go head empty?” You continue to smile charmingly, innocently, not wanting to have any cause for any suspicious.

Warrior snorts and shakes his head. “I’ll have you know that my mind is a steel trap and there is very little that gets by me.”

“Oh yeah?” You smiles wider, leaning into the tease.

“Mhm.” Warrior nods decidedly. “It’s very hard to pull the wall over my eyes and get me to forget about anything else that I may be doing-”

“Is that why your lunch is currently burning?” I point to the food he had over the fire and he bolts to it in a panic. He manages to save it in time and you’re left giggling where you sit.

Warrior sits next to you again, his food in his hand. He coughs and tries to meet your eyes but his bravado has been shaken. “So!... Is that all you had to ask?”

You nod and stand up. “That’s all Link.”

His blush deepens.

“Good to know that the Captain with the steel trap mind is looking out for us.” You laugh a bit louder and flick his forehead. 

Warrior looks away finally, his blush going across his face. “I am.... on it. You can coooouuuunnnnt ooooon me.”

“Good.” You snort and lean down close to his face.

Warrior turns and reels back by the lack of space you’ve left and you wink. You move away, practically skipping away.

Warrior is left mildly shaken and embarrassed. His hand comes up to cover his mouth, halfway covering the rest of his face. 

Legend, who saw the whole thing, is laughing to himself, barely hiding his snickers behind his own hand. 

Wind, who missed all of that, looks at Legend with concern in his eyes. “Are you ok?”

Legend can’t find it in himself to reply.

Wind

The shot hits the target dead on. Perfect bullseye.

A cheer makes it way from your mouth before you know it. “Good job, Wind!”

The boy in questions looks your way with a grin on his face. He moves the bow down. “Thank you!”

“You’ve been practicing.” You acknowledge and make your way closer to him. “You’ve gotten better so quickly. You’re a natural.”

The boy scratches the back of his neck. His cheek dusted with a light shade of pink. “You think so?”

“Of course.” You beam and hold your hand out for the bow. He gives it to you easily and you knock an arrow. The movements are practiced and flow easily through you as you pick your own target.

“I dare you to split my arrow.” Wind blurts out.

You turn his way with a single eyebrow raised. He flushes a bit more but to his credit, he meets you head on. “Do it.”

You snort and aim for his arrow. It takes a minute of careful planning, more careful that you were going for the first half before you let it loose.

It just misses. It hits the end of the arrow, slicing it in half as it enters into the target but not nearly as close as you wanted. You click, annoyed with the results.

Wind however, only gets more excited. “WOAH! You almost did it!”

“Yeah, almost.” You roll your shoulders. “I bet with some practice I could. I’ve done it before. But I think I’ll stop there.”

You hand the bow back to him. “It’s hard enough to do on a good day anyway. I’m just rusty.” 

It could also be because you’re significantly taller than him so the angle would be different anyway but you don’t want to rain on his parade.

“I’m gonna try to split your arrow now.” Wind pokes his tongue out and steadies himself. You notice something.

“Your forms a bit off for this.” You say gently. With the tip of your shoe, you line up his feet. You reach over and around him, fixing and adjusting his hands on the bow. “I’m sure that it works for you because you’ve gotten use to learning as you go. Form only does so much when you need to act fast in battle but for this case, hold it here and here. You’ll have better control.”

You don’t notice Wind stiffen and go red in the face once again. You step back, pleased with the minor tweaks and watch him fire it again. He also doesn’t split your arrow, but he does manage to shoot right beneath it.

“Aw, I missed.” He pouts.

“Try again.” You say as you ruffle his hair. “You’ll get there.”

When he looks up at you after knocking your hand away, you can see how red in the face he’s gotten. He could be embarrassed, you muse and step back.

“It takes time Buddy.” You wink. “I believe in you.”

He looks away and fixed his feet again. “Ok, ok, yeah.”

You snort and walk away, leaving Wind to practice his shooting alone. Sometimes it’s better to not have an audience.

Wind looks over his shoulder and sees you leave. He drops the bow and his hands fly to cover his face. His blush travels up to his ears and down his neck and it enough to weight him down into a squat. He doesn’t scream.

He wants to though.

It just wasn’t fair. Why are you so cool?!?

Part 2

[hyperpsychomaniac]

Who Says You Can't Go Home - Chapter 10

Darkwing Duck (90s series) fanfiction

Sequel to my recent fanfic The Other Side of Me

Summary: Down on his luck, the Negaverse Launchpad crashes at Launchpad’s parents looking for help. Launchpad, who has avoided visiting his family since he started working with Darkwing, returns in a panic to ensure his double isn’t causing trouble. And then it gets awkward.

Chapter 1

***

The Negaverse Launchpad stayed another two days, until Darkwing called to let them know Negaduck was safely put away, for now, and he was ready to help Launchpad find the portal to send him back to the Negaverse. As much as he didn’t want to leave so soon something torn up and long buried inside had tugged at him ever since he’d made his declaration to Negaduck, telling him it was time to return home to his true family. Not that this universe’s McQuacks had not been like family to him. And that’s what made saying goodbye so hard.

Though she had only known him a few days Loopey hugged him tightly. “Don’t forget to tell that sister of yours how awesome I am too.” She’d asked him many questions about his Loopey. It had been simply curiosity, but it had helped Launchpad dig up the good memories he had of his sister, the things he hadn’t messed up. It had given him hope that, once he returned to the Negaverse and found her, she just might not tear him to shreds.

Launchpad hugged him next. He held him for a long moment, crushing him against his chest. When he pushed him back his brow was furrowed. “Are you sure you’re going to be alright over there?”

The Negaverse Launchpad grinned and clapped his double on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, buddy. You’re not abandoning me. You didn’t the first time either. This time, I think I might just have a bit more of an idea what I’m doing. I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know how easy those portal things are to find, or get going. But if you ever need help, me and DW are just one universe over.”

Birdie grasped the Negaverse Launchpad’s hands, and sniffed. “Be careful over there, baby. We’re going to miss you.”

“Aw, Mrs McQuack.” Launchpad wrapped his arms around her. “I’ll be alright. At least you know I’m not going to get all angry and pick stupid fights I don’t need to now. You guys, and your son, you taught me that.”

Birdie smiled up at him, her eyes watery. “You are literally going over there to join a resistance. Sounds like you’re picking a pretty big fight to me, but…” she said, as he opened his mouth to protest. “At least its for a good reason. You put that Negaduck in his place. Just be careful. Oh, and this is for you.” She reached into her pocket, pulled out a packet, and handed it to him.

Launchpad unfolded the enclosing flap with a frown. It was only when he pulled out the small stack of photographs that he realised what they were. Photographs were not non-existent in the Negaverse. Often you simply had other concerns, like survival, that took precedent over the taking and hoarding of sentimental keepsakes. “You want me to have these?” His voice caught over the lump that had risen to his throat.

“Most are just ones of the family I dug up and I thought you might like to remember us by. But…”

Launchpad carefully shuffled through them, and came to the two as Birdie spoke.

“… I did manage to snap a couple of you and Ripcord when you were working on that plane together. You were both so absorbed talking to each other and positively covered in grease, I couldn’t resist. I thought you’d like them.”

“Are you sure?”

Birdie winked. “I have more than enough photos of my husband covered in grease.”

Launchpad and Loopey both winced. “Mom!”

“You got doubles?” Ripcord asked his wife.

“Of course. And I always keep the film.”

Launchpad slipped the photos into his jacket, and turned to Ripcord. He and Mrs McQuack had done so much for him since he’d crashed onto their front lawn and he didn’t know what to say to the man who against what had to be all better judgment had taken him under his wing. Heck he’d actually cared about him enough to get riled up and confront Negaduck, no matter how reckless that had been. No one had ever done that for him, and it had never even occurred to Launchpad that someone should. He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry and void of words.

But it didn’t matter, because Ripcord took him by the shoulders and all but dragged him around to face him. “Hey, look at me, son. I don’t care how anyone thinks they have a right to treat you like. You deserve to be respected, and loved, and if you ever can’t find that over in the Negaverse, even if you can’t make your way back to us, I want you to remember you will always have that here. You got that?”

Tears filled Launchpad’s eyes. He threw his arms around Ripcord’s neck, breath hitching in his throat. “You guys have just… thanks for being my Mom and Dad these past few months. I love you both.”

The Negaverse Launchpad climbed into the Thunderquack’s cockpit, where Gosalyn waited for him. He waved to the McQuack’s with her, then focused on starting up the powerful aeroplane. All had had to do was get the blasted thing up into the air and leave. He could do this. An ache tugged at his chest as the McQuack family swung out of view. He wiped hastily at the corner of his eyes as they pulled up into the air, and he did not look behind him.

“Hey,” Gosalyn squeezed his arm. “You okay? I mean, you’re not going to crash or something?”

Launchpad grinned. “Come on, kiddo. You know I never crash.”

Gosalyn threw out her arms. “You literally showed me the skid mark where you crashed when you go here!”

“Had a broken arm. Didn’t count.”

“But…”

“Now, come on, we can’t waste time arguing like this. Your dad knows we’re leaving now, right? I reckon if I go full tilt we can get you home before he starts to worry, but still have plenty of time to get into some mischief. What do you want to do?”

A grin slowly spread across Gosalyn’s face.

***

The McQuack’s spent the next few days repairing their front hallway from the gashes Negaduck had hacked into it with his chainsaw. DIY was not beyond them, although they were all better at repairing aeroplanes, and the damage was quickly patched up. Birdie hadn’t quite trusted their skill with the kitchen however, and she and Ripcord had decided they would get it replaced professionally.

Now they were all in the living room, sorting through the photos Negaduck had knocked down. As the whole family was finally together, it was the perfect opportunity to see if they could dig up any different ones to put up. Some had been completely destroyed but, luckily, Birdie had many spares. She’d tugged out a number of large boxes from various cupboards around the house, and added them to the photos already there.

Launchpad sat next to his father on the sofa, his leg almost touching his. Ripcord had taken every opportunity to sit close to his son, sometimes almost awkwardly. It was kind of sweet, but also didn’t help Launchpad’s worry for his dad. He knew he hadn’t intended to put him in danger and had nothing to try make up for. All he could think of doing had been to give his father a quick squeeze around the shoulders, just to let him know he wasn’t uncomfortable with him being close to him like when he’d first arrived, and hope it would eventually sink in that his son was still there.

Birdie rushed past them, and opened another cupboard. Despite the half dozen boxes scattered around, she had insisted on continuing the search. Apparently she hadn’t found them all yet.

Ripcord sighed. “Honey, I think we’ve got plenty here to go through already.”

“I’m looking for something specific… yes!” She came back, not with a box, but a single photograph folder clutched to her chest. It was old, and yellowing, and far from pelting it onto the table like she had the other loose folders she’d found, she cradled it carefully.

Ripcord frowned. “They heck are those? Wedding photos or something?”

Birdie pressed the folder into her husband’s hands, but held on, stopping him from opening it right away. “We don’t have to put this up if seeing it upsets you. But, well, I had these stashed.” She sniffed. “I mean, you threw away the first prints, so…”

Ripcord gently took the folder from her and opened it.

Launchpad leaned over his father’s shoulder. “Dad, why’d you throw away photos?”

“I didn’t realise you knew I’d pitched them,” Ripcord said thickly.

“Of course I did, silly. This is why I always keep the film.”

Launchpad watched as his father shuffled through them, slowly, with a faint shake in his hands. At first, there seemed nothing remarkable about the photographs, save that they were quite old. Photos, many of Loopey of a baby, and of the family, and of him when he would have been about five. Ripcord stopped as he revealed one of him in the cockpit of a small plane that Launchpad couldn’t remember, on the ground, with one very excited five year old strapped to his lap.

Ripcord sniffed, putting a hand to his beak. Then he leaned over into Launchpad’s shoulder and held the photos where his son could easily see. Launchpad grabbed the photo’s edge, his hand touching his father’s. “Launchpad,” Ripcord said, his voice wavering, “You don’t remember this… but… this is the first time… I took you up in an aeroplane. That, that was the day…”

Launchpad put an arm around his father’s shoulders. “Dad, it’s okay. We already talked about this.”

Ripcord looked at his son and, with tears in his eyes, smiled. “That was the day you asked me to teach you to be a pilot.”

***

The Negaverse. One month later.

It was hard to appear non-threatening when you straight up waltzed into the secret headquarters of the resistance formed against your former boss. Especially when he had declared you dead.

A dozen weapons leaped out of jackets and holsters, muzzles tilted up to train upon their target. Launchpad towered over the ragtag group of fighters, and as he eyed them all slowly, the corner of his beak twitching up into a scowl. Man, Loopey was really scraping the bottom of the barrel here.

When he’d been unable to immediately locate Gosalyn, Launchpad had started searching for his sister. He’d trailed the resistance’s attacks on Negaduck’s proprieties and equipment, but when he spoke with anyone who had seen Loopey’s operatives in action, or even helped them, none could tell him where her cell was. If they knew, they hadn’t been keen to share with someone who had worked for Negaduck. And no matter how nicely he’d asked, his lack of aggression only seemed to confuse people more.

Frustrated, he’d eventually caught one of the operatives. It had sent a thrill through him to find him wearing a Darkwing costume. He’d scared the hell out of the poor guy with how excited he’d got, and his catch had flat out clammed up when he’d asked about Gosalyn. Where Loopey’s headquarters were, however, he seemed less keen to put his life on the line to protect. Not that Launchpad had used anything he’d learned from Negaduck to weasel it out of him. The threat had been enough, and even then he hadn’t made any actual threats, just paced and muttered to himself about what he was going to do with his captured prey until he’d cracked.

One of the fighters edged forward. Quackerjack was still dressed in the Darkwing costume Launchpad had last seen him in, when he’d found him and the other three in the company of Gosalyn. “Alright, playtime’s over. Put him down, nice and slow.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Launchpad had completely forgotten he still clutched Megavolt by the collar, his feet swinging clear of the floor. He set him down, gently. “I didn’t hurt him,” he said, for whatever that was worth. His reputation was preceding him, and whilst that had been helpful prying information from Megavolt, it was not serving him well now.

Megavolt stayed at Launchpad’s feet, trembling.

“Get over here, you idiot,” Quackerjack muttered with a wave of his rifle.

Megavolt bolted over and hid behind him. “He took my hat!”

“I didn’t… you dropped it!” Launchpad closed his eyes briefly, then raised his empty hands slowly. “I don’t want any trouble. I’ve come to see the Pink Baroness.”

“Yeah?” said Quackerjack. “On who’s orders?”

“No ones. I’m done with Negaduck.”

The fighters all exchanged looks. Some of the weapons lowered.

“Alright. But keep those hands where I can see them. No funny business. And, guys, check him for weapons.”

It took nearly a full minute for anyone to work up the courage to approach him. After much whispering, it was decided the safest option was for everybody to, simultaneously, pat him down. This resulted in far more pawing than Launchpad was comfortable with. He rolled his eyes to the ceiling and kept his hands raised. If this had been before he’d left the Negaverse he would’ve snapped within seconds. As it was he could feel his jaw gritting tighter and tighter until, finally, someone declared: “I think he’s clean.”

“You’re sure?” asked Quackerjack.

“Pretty sure you’ve checked every crevice,” Launchpad growled.

Loopey’s fighters led him deeper into the warehouse. With every weapon trained upon him, which true to Negaverse standards included a fair number of rocket launchers, Launchpad really hoped a rat or something didn’t startle anyone.

Megavolt pushed open a door. A long table took up the middle of the room, a miniature Saint Canard set upon it. Some of it was actual scale models of buildings and vehicles, some simply tin cans and bits of rubbish pressed into service. A bright fluorescent light swung overhead, throwing shifting shadows across the half dozen resistance fighters crowded about the setup.

Bushroot leaned in and poked a leafy tendril at what Launchpad assumed was one of Saint Canard’s sad excuses for a park. “I know there’s not a lot of stuff still alive, but I should be able to coax the poor little fellas into helping us pull down Negaduck’s hanger.”

“Yeah, this is good. We’ll teach that selfish creep to close off ‘his’ airspace.” She still wore her worn and weathered pink jacket, torn off at the sleeves like her brothers, revealing bare arms. Her jeans were black, but the pink showed up again in her worn and greasy steel toed boots. Her hair was a cut in a mohawk, tipped in pink, and she’d never cared a damn that most folks thought pink a ‘weak’ colour. She’d soon set them straight.

“Loopey…” Her name slipped from Launchpad’s beak on a breath before he knew it.

His sister shielded her eyes as as she looked past the bright light. “Someone tell this joker I don’t go by that name any…” She stiffened, then took the cigar from her beak and snuffed it out in the ash tray beside her, never taking her eyes from her brother. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Launchpad gulped. “I’ve been looking for you. I’ve come to join your resistance.”

“You’re supposed to be dead. You selfish…” Loopey stomped towards him and her resistance fighters parted before her. Her fist flashed out like a snake and Launchpad barely registered the pink studded gloves, a new addition to her outfit, before they ripped across his beak. “… bastard. How dare you come here!”

Launchpad hissed and clapped his hands to his face. The blow stung; he could taste copper in the back of his throat. He drew in deep breaths, eyes squeezed tightly shut, until the pain lessened to a manageable level. When he looked up, Loopey had her fists raised. Her fighters’ weapons were again trained on him. Because no one in the Negaverse would let a cheap shot like that go without fighting back. Launchpad wiped his arm across his beak with a sniff, then let his hands drop to his sides and stared his sister down.

A frown creased Loopey’s beak. “You must think I’m an idiot. You realise how this looks, right? Negaduck says your dead. Then you rock up here, pretending you want to help? You were his right hand man.”

“I know,” he said thickly. “And I don’t know how to prove to you I’ve changed, but…”

“Launchpad!” Everyone jumped, which was rather concerning with so many weapons in play. A small something darted nimbly between the fighters, followed by a looping tendril of water.

“Now, just wait… you can’t… Gosalyn!” Liquidator gurgled. He wrapped watery arms around his charge just as she reached the front of the crowd, but she exploded through before he could nab her.

All that time searching, especially as he hadn’t been able to locate Gosalyn quickly, and without the support he’d had when he was staying with the McQuacks, had been taxing. Launchpad had questioned his resolve, his ability, and if he really could accomplish his mission without resorting to some of his old Negaverse ways. All he’d wanted was to find someone he knew, despite all his failures, would be there for him. His heart rose in his throat, his knees buckled and he dropped, arms flung open wide.

Gosalyn barreled into him with such force it knocked Launchpad back and he sat down hard on the concrete floor. “You’re alive!”

“Gos.” Launchpad buried his face in her hair. “Aw, kiddo. I’m so, so sorry for abandoning you. And not being there for you with Negaduck, and… I wish I’d been stronger for you.”

“Launchpad, none of that was your fault.”

Oh, how he’d missed that incorruptible little face. “I know. But I’m gonna make it up to you, promise.”

“Alright, wise guy, let our daughter go right now.” Megavolt had recovered from his kidnapping ordeal. He stood over them, electricity playing at his fingertips, alongside Bushroot, Quackerjack, and Liquidator. They loomed over him to form an impressive front of very, very angry guardians.

“Dads!” Gosalyn wrapped her arms around Launchpad’s neck. “It’s just Launchpad. He won’t hurt me.”

They backed down, but still hovered close. Damn. Darkwing had certainly picked the right carers for Gosalyn.

Gosalyn stayed protectively in front of him, but climbed off his lap so he could sit up. She put a hand to his cheek. “Are you okay? Wait, who hit you?”

Loopey hid her bloodied knuckles behind her back. “I thought you were dead. Why do you think I…” she swallowed hard and squared her shoulders. “Where have you been all this time?”

“In the other universe.”

“Wait, you saw Darkwing Duck?!” The four copy-cats exploded.

“Did he say anything about us?” Megavolt added, hopefully.

Launchpad slowly stood to his feet. Gosalyn stayed clamped to his arm. He wasn’t sure if she’d just missed him, or she was staying there to protect him. “Loopey, a lot went on over there. But long story short, I realised I don’t need Negaduck anymore.”

“Negaduck wasn’t very nice to him,” said Gosalyn. “I’m glad you left. He didn’t have any right to treat you the way he did.”

“I know, and he doesn't have any right to treat anyone in Saint Canard the same way. And I was a part of that.” Launchpad looked back to his sister. “That’s why I gotta make it right. I know I have to earn back your trust first. But I need to stand up to Negaduck, and I need your help for that, and… I just want us to be a family again, sis.” Tears filled his eyes, and you just didn’t break down in front of a heavily armed resistance and show that kind of weakness, but Launchpad no longer gave a damn. “Please, Loopey. I’ll do whatever you ask, just don’t put me out.”

Loopey stared at him for a long time. “Sure you can take orders from your little sister?”

“I’m good at taking orders.”

“Good. You can start by cleaning toilets. After a week or two of that we’ll see how trustworthy you are.”

There were a couple snickers from the fighters. As well as one ‘oh thank god’, presumably from the last poor sucker who’d had that job. It was still better than what Launchpad had expected, which was to get punched in the face a lot more than once.

“Come on, I’ll get you patched up. And lower those weapons! You’re all so jumpy, you’ll put someone’s eyes out. If he tries anything I’ll just punch him again, now move it.” Loopey waved her way through the fighters, dragging Launchpad behind her until she was clear. Then she turned to face him and squeezed both his hands. “Are you okay?”

“You didn’t hit me that hard. It’s alright. I’ll just spar you later, you know, only if you’re okay with that.”

Loopey frowned at him, then shook her head. “I did, and I’m sorry. I forgot I was wearing these.” She waved a hand. “But that’s not what I meant. Launchpad, what the hell happened to you over there? You’re different.”

“A lot. I don’t know where to start.”

“I’m glad your done with Negaduck. Gosalyn told me how he treated you and…” Loopey’s hands tightened in his. “I thought he’d killed you. Why the hell do you think I started all this? But now you’re back and you’re all…” She trailed off and gulped hard.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m still here. All I wanted was to find you and Gos. You’re my family, and there’s a bunch of stuff I have to tell you, but… you know, like Mom and Dad always said, we’ve got to protect each other. I know I failed at that, and I’m sorry for the way I treated you over the years. I’m going to do better.”

Loopey made sure none of her fighters were watching them, then she threw her arms around Launchpad and buried her face against his chest. “You had better be on the level with me, big brother.”

Launchpad sagged into her arms. He was home.

***

Author's Note:

Fun fact. When I was plotting the sequel to this, I originally intended Nega Launchpad to fall off the Audubon Bridge and drown (and LP to try and save him cause he’s a nice guy). Yeah, I’m glad I didn’t.

This turned out a bit hectic… somehow I ended up writing about abuse and that was… interesting. Negaduck is a jerk. And its weird editing something to try and make a particular character be just the right bit of nasty, whilst simultaneously wanting to throat punch them.

Ripcord got a bit more than he deserved, poor guy. I’d intended to have his and LPs backstory, and, yeah, that was going to be upsetting for him. And then have him lose it over Negaduck mistreating Nega LP and go after him with a shot gun and for that Not to Turn Out Well. But I didn’t realise that Launchpad was going to get in the way until I was writing that part and… yeah, having your adult kid nearly die after you’ve just dug up all those memories of, you know, nearly killing your kid when they were a kid and how this sent you into a depressive spiral. Flip, Ripcord, I’m sorry.

But I am really happy with Nega LPs character arc. Kind of proud of the dirtbag. And when I get back to writing some original fiction and characters (which this has completely distracted me from)… yeah, really hope I can do something as good.

Please leave me a review or comment if you’ve read this. I do enjoy feedback and will usually try to respond. Thanks for reading!

[hyperpsychomaniac]

Flight or Flight - Chapter 5

DT17 Fanfiction

Summary: When Della discovers her childhood hero, Ripcord McQuack, will fly Scrooge's new aeroplane at an upcoming airshow, she weasels her way into a meeting with Scrooge and the aeroplane's lead designer, Birdie McQuack. But the McQuacks have a request: that Della set up a meeting with their son, Launchpad, who they've been in contact with but has actively avoided seeing them in person.

Chapter 1

***

"I'm sorry, Dewey. I should've known you'd never set me up like that." Launchpad pinned his phone to one ear with his shoulder as he stuffed loose clothing into the washing machine. He had forgotten in his haste to invite his parents over was that he really didn't want them to see the place a total mess like it usually was. He'd cleaned up the pizza boxes and quickly discarded the ever-accumulating soft drink and beer bottles. And then Della had texted him. He'd almost ignored it but now was glad he hadn't. His best friend hadn't tried to trick him. Dewey still had his back, which made Launchpad feel a little better about seeing his parents.

"That's okay. And it's great you're having your parents over too."

Launchpad answered with a noncommittal grunt as he slammed a fist into the laundry to get it into the washer. He knew that wasn't how you were supposed to load it. The last time he'd tried to run it so full, he'd woken up to what he thought was someone breaking in. After he'd ground-pounded the presumed burglar, he'd discovered that it had only been the washing machine vibrating across the floor and making a racket. Although it had survived his assault, it still had a sizable dent in its side and could definitely not handle a full load anymore. But, for the moment, Launchpad just wanted to get everything out of the way.

"It'll be okay. I know you said they sucked, but maybe your sister is right? Maybe they have changed. I mean, they want to see you. I know how much I missed my mom... what if they miss you like that? You can always call me and let me know how it went? If you want?"

Launchpad finally managed to close the lid on the machine. "I will. Thanks."

There was a knock at the door. Launchpad almost dropped his phone. "Oh no. I haven't even got food ready or…"

"LP, they're not there for your food. It's okay, go."

"Thanks, buddy. I'll… I'll be okay." Launchpad hung up. He drew a deep breath and then opened the small door beside the roller garage door.

Loopey grinned up at him. "Hey, bro. I brought snacks." She held up two bags of chips.

"Thanks." It was less that Launchpad was grateful for extra snacks and more that she had, intentionally or otherwise, got to the door first and formed a buffer between him and his parents.

Mom took his hands in hers. "I'm sorry we lied to you, sweetheart. Thanks for still letting us come over and see your place."

"That's okay, Mom. This is where I live." Launchpad stepped back to let them see the somewhat tidier than usual garage. The brief moment it took for his parents to look around dragged out like an eternity.

"You live in your boss's garage?" said Ripcord.

"I… yeah. Do… do you like it?"

Ripcord grinned. "This is awesome. I think the only way it could be better is if you had a plane in here."

Launchpad grabbed him by the sleeve. "I'll show you my gym." It was only at the bottom of the stairs to the loft, where Launchpad kept his gym equipment and hammock, that he realised he'd grabbed his dad without a second thought.

Ripcord smiled up at him. "Go on, I'd love to see."

Launchpad showed him the boxing bag and threw a couple of punches into it.

Ripcord caught the bag as it swung towards him with a grunt. "That's a hell of a right hook."

"Mom taught me."

"Oh, yeah, of course."

"Ripcord!" Birdie called from downstairs. She laughed. "I found all our VHS tapes!" She knelt in front of the television, pulling out the tapes that Loopey had found before.

Ripcord and Launchpad joined them downstairs. "Um, yeah." Launchpad rubbed at his arm. "Sorry. Most of them were Darkwing Duck, so I figured they were mine anyway."

"I'm not mad. I'm just surprised you still have them. All of them. You completely cleared the cabinet out when… when you left home."

Ripcord knelt beside his wife. "Is it just all the Duckwing?"

"Here's one of my Nicolas Crane… wait… nope Darkwing Duck," Birdie turned the tape over to reveal 'Darkwing Duck' scrawled over the top of the original label in black marker. "I probably shouldn't have taught you you could tape over literally anything if you just put sticky tape over the tab."

Launchpad sat down beside them and dug into the back of the cabinet. He handed Ripcord one of the three tapes, buried up back. "Here, Dad. I had these ones too."

Ripcord frowned as he turned the tape over, then his eyes widened. "You taped the '95 airshow?"

"Yeah. I taped all your airshows," Launchpad said thinly.

Ripcord's eyes sparkled as he cradled the tape. "I know you'd at least recorded some of them. When you took these as well, I figured you'd just planned to burn them in an oil drum or something."

Whilst they had remained buried in the bottom of this duffel back in his travels, and more recently, the back of his TV cabinet, and he'd never watched them, his dad's words made Launchpad frown. "Why would I do that?"

Ripcord squeezed his shoulder. "Thanks, son. This is great. Can we watch this?" It was weird to have his father ask him for something rather than tell him what to do. To have him look up at him, excitement pent up inside, waiting for a positive response.

"Um…"

"Maybe," said Birdie. "Launchpad might like us to watch some Darkwing Duck with him."

"I did this really awesome loop the loop in '95," said Ripcord, "where I …."

"You had extra time up your sleeve. So you doubled back through one of the gates in a loop," said Launchpad. "And you still beat everyone's times."

"Exactly!" Ripcord grinned. "Man, I cut that close. Could've taken out…. out the pillar had I been an inch closer…" He trailed off, a frown creasing his features.

"See," said Loopey. "This is why I beat your times. I get the job done, and I don't show off."

"Your planes are made from lighter materials than the ones I used to fly, miss," Ripcord said with a wink.

Loopey shrugged. "Meh."

Launchpad had wanted to watch Darkwing Duck. He'd never really watched it with his parents, and now, they might actually be willing. But he couldn't disappoint his dad. Not after seeing that look in his eyes. I mean, he'd kind of screwed up flying for him. It was the least he could do. Besides, they were together, right? That was the important part. "Sure, Dad. I just got to go start the quesadillas."

"Right. Okay, how do I put this in?"

Birdie took the tape off him. "Here. It's not hard."

"Says the engineer. Never could operate this thing."

Launchpad started up his single burner gas stove, which, along with his microwave and a frypan, made up his kitchen. He threw the tortillas into the frypan and started stuffing in ingredients.

Loopey peeped over his shoulder. "You sure you happy to watch an airshow? I thought you hated them?"

"It's okay. I think it might be different. You know, with Dad actually here."

"Can I help?"

"There's cheese in the fridge."

Loopey opened the fridge. "Ooo! Beer!"

Mom and Dad continued to argue over the VCR in his living area. Only, they weren't arguing. Not like Launchpad remembered anyway.

"Move your hands; you're in the way."

"That's the play button, right? It's got an arrow."

"That's rewind, you dork. Seriously, how is this more complicated than the cockpit in my plane?"

"Like you would say, this was probably designed by a man."

Launchpad felt a small smile play at his beak. This was okay. He was doing this. By the time he and Loopey put together the quesadillas and brought them over, Mom and Dad had got the tape playing. It was in good nick, without the hint of static that had started to play at the corners of Launchpad's much more frequently watched Darkwing Duck tapes.

"Man, your takeoffs are slow," Loopey said as Ripcord's plane took to the air.

"Hey!" Ripcord laughed. "Jeeze, is this how you're talking to Brett and all my other trainees? Be quiet and watch. You're going to get a really good lesson here. You may as well pay attention."

"Hope it's less boring than your usual ones."

Launchpad sneaked a look over at them as he grabbed a quesadilla off the plate. How were they getting on so well? He was sure Dad would've yelled at him if he'd spoken to him like that when he was younger. At least, he assumed he would have. He'd hardly been home enough for him to be sure.

"Watch, watch…" Ripcord leaned forward as he completed the course.

As the next pilot took to the air, Loopey commented about this guy's form. Ripcord took a quesadilla, leaned back and rested his free arm along the back of the sofa behind Launchpad, but not quite touching him. "I keep telling you, the older planes didn't have as many bells and whistles as yours, Loopey. You had to fly by the seat of your pants. You got to learn just how far your wingtip was, how close you could fly next to the rest of your team…"

As his father spoke, Launchpad pressed himself into the back of the couch, so he just touched his father's arm around him. The drone of his dad's voice enveloped him. This was what he had felt in those months after they'd crashed the aeroplanes. When his father was home. When they'd watched movies or played board games together, as a family. He'd felt safe. He'd felt happy. This was what he had wanted.

But something did not feel quite right. Launchpad stayed pressed back against his father's arm, trying to find that feeling again. Trying to make it feel right.

Sure, this felt comfortable. But it was because his family were comfortable with each other. Launchpad could not feel where he should slip into the conversation, not as easily as Loopey did. He had only done this with them for a few months. Then his father had told him to leave and had snatched that all away from him. They must have spent so much time together, like this, up until Loopey herself had left home. And he was sure, when that happened, it had been of her own choosing.

Meanwhile, Launchpad had been sleeping on buses, and boats, and finding himself in the arms of strangers. Looking for someone to care about him and thinking that spending a night with someone was what that looked like. Up until he'd found those few special someones, who'd really cared about him, and showed him what he'd been searching for.

"Hey, buddy, you still with us? I was telling Loopey cargo planes just cannot execute a turn like that. You fly one, right? Can you tell her…" Ripcord moved his arm down, actually resting it around Launchpad's shoulders.

Launchpad shot to his feet. "I… popcorn…" He bolted for the kitchen, snatched the bag of popcorn off the milk crates that served as his countertop, and crammed it into the microwave. He focused on the bag turning inside, trying to calm the thump of his heart in his chest.

"Launchpad, are you okay?" He jerked at the touch on his arm, but it was only Birdie.

"I'm… fine, Mom. We just need dessert, and…" His throat was constricting again. "Mom, I can't do this."

Birdie took his hands like she had when he was little. "Hey, it's okay. I don't know what's going on, but it'll be okay. Talk to me."

"I…" Why had it been easier to talk to his mom like this when he was younger? Launchpad didn't know what was going on inside him, not in a way he could put into words.

"Don't worry about popcorn," said Ripcord. "That double loop I was telling you about is coming up. I want you guys to see."

Launchpad's hands tightened in his mother's.

"Rip," said Birdie. "I think you need to turn off the TV."

"Huh? Launchpad, what's wrong?"

"What's wrong? This was a mistake."

"Hey, come and sit down. If you don't want to watch this, we can talk. We're here to spend time with you, so…"

"You don't want to spend time with me! You just want to watch your stupid airshow."

Ripcord stood to his feet. "Hey! I did not even know you had these. I asked you if we could watch them. Now, if you'll just settle down…"

"Don't give me orders. This is my house!" Launchpad stood beak to beak with him. His father may have still been an inch or so taller than him, but he certainly did not seem as imposing as he remembered. Not as scary. Not as unreachable.

"I am trying to spend time with you. I'm trying… I don't think you understand how this was for me sometimes. I had a lot of stuff on. You work, right? We didn't live in our boss' garage. We had rent to pay, and… we did the best we could. I know I've got a lot to make up for. But, son, come on, you have to give me a chance." Ripcord reached out for him.

Launchpad moved back. "I thought this could work."

"Just tell me what's wrong."

"You've always just… those airshows are more important than me."

"They're not. I promise.”

Launchpad gritted his teeth, if only to stop the tears squeezing out of his eyes. "I don't believe you."

When Ripcord spoke again, his voice was strained, but he didn't yell. "Well, what the hell do you want me to do to make you believe me? I can't… there's only so much I can say…"

His father's words to him earlier came back to him. Launchpad ignored the sick feeling rising in his stomach and snatched the other two airshow tapes off the table to hand to his father. He had to do this. “Prove it then. You said you thought I would've burnt them. So, prove I'm more important. You burn them."

"Launchpad!" said Birdie. "You can't…"

"I can't trust you if you don't prove it! I can't take your word. I don't know you well enough!"

Ripcord's eyes narrowed. "I get you're upset. But you know there are no copies of these anywhere and…"

"I just need you to… the burner is right there…" Launchpad flung a hand back at his kitchen.

"You're acting like a child."

"Ripcord!"

"Alright, everyone, calm down!" said Loopey. "Maybe we should just go out for… ice cream… or…"

Launchpad shouldered past his dad. He reached under the television and ripped out the VCR, trailing cables behind it. He shoved it into his father's arms. "This is all you care about, so just take. You can watch your airshows. And you don't need to pretend like you want to be here for me."

"Launchpad," Ripcord fought to keep his voice steady. "I just want…"

"Yeah? Well, I don't want you!" And somehow, as the words that had been branded in Launchpad's mind, when his father had told him to leave that night in the hanger, tore from his mouth, it felt good. It felt so good to throw them back in his father's face. "Now, get the hell out of here."

Ripcord turned around, VCR and all, and left.

Birdie picked up her handbag. "Let us know when you're ready to talk, Launchpad. Civilly."

Launchpad flushed. Mom and Loopey. They were still there. "Mom, I didn't mean…."

Birdie forced a smile. "It's alright. I didn't realise how hard this was on you. We'll get out of your hair."

Launchpad sunk back onto his sofa, head in his hands, finally alone. Alone like he had been for years. This was not what he had wanted. But how else was he supposed to trust his dad? Mom and Dad had always yelled at each other. What else was he supposed to do?

Launchpad pulled out a Darkwing Duck tape. He needed to distract himself. He paused, uncomprehending where to shove the VHS in the empty, dusty space beneath the television. He groaned. He'd given the VCR to Dad.

He lifted his phone and stared at the screen. But it was late. If he called Dewey, Della would have his head. He didn't know how to explain this to his friend anyway. Because as his anger cooled, Launchpad realised he didn't know what he was supposed to say. He couldn't complain about his parents' visit when he was the one who had sabotaged it.

Instead, he thrust his hands into his jacket pockets and walked out into the night.

***

Chapter 6