#only drew donald once but just know i love him

[sodastarpop]

ducktales art dump yayyyyyyy

more after the cut :3c

ft. ROSEEE 💕💕💕💕💕

i can only draw one pose bruh

some shitposts <3

[stoopakoopa]

Day 8 - Reunion

Drew out a little snippet from @donze-trash's fic for @mesdelostrescaballeros2024!!

Part of a larger continuity being uploaded on ao3! Read it below ⬇️

Donald pulled up outside the apartment where Panchito was staying and took a deep, fortifying breath. Of course he was excited to see his friend again! Of course he was excited for The Three Caballeros to be once more reunited, even if only for a day. There was just that one catch—he felt bad even calling it a catch, like it was somehow a bad thing that he and Zé had finally professed their love for one another—but it would always be awkward telling Panchito. Surely, the duck thought with an internal groan, things would unavoidably change within the trio.

To make it all worse, José had been away on flight shifts when Panchito arrived in town, and Donald had agreed to only break the news when his new boyfriend had returned. He was a terrible liar about this kind of thing: his tongue got all tied up and his beak chattered when he spoke. How in the hell was he supposed to—?

The Donald Duck Pity Party was cut short as sharp, energetic chatter caught his ear from the street: Panchito was being seen off and heading straight for the car. Donald flung himself toward the back seat, toward the gift José had planned to hand over today, and hastily threw a spare blanket over it. The thick, scratchy wool did a decent job of concealing the obvious shape of a brand new guitar, at least if you didn't pay it mind. They'd give it to him when they were all together. That's how they were supposed to do things. Together.

Panchito appeared, waving goodbye to someone before bounding out of the apartment complex. His face lit up when he saw Donald, and before Donald could even get a word out, Panchito had leapt into the front seat, pulling him into a bear hug. His wide sombrero wobbled dangerously, but he didn't seem to care.

"¡Ay caramba, amigo! What took you so long to get here?" Panchito exclaimed, yanking Donald into his arms despite protest from his seatbelt, all to kiss Donald's cheek with his usual enthusiasm.

"'Ey, Pancho! How you doin' amigo?" The duck choked out, finding it a little easier to act natural amid the strangulation.

Panchito released Donald to pinch his cheek playfully. "Better with you here! I've been working on that new song I told you about last night! What about you? What have you been up to all day?"

"I'm doin' swell! And nothing much! Been taking 'er easy today." He lied, and not well—he was already talking too much. "Excited, though! Not every day I get to hang out with my two best pals!" Donald pulled away from Panchito's hold in order to return his attention to driving, feeling too awkward to linger in the warm hold, however much he usually would.

The charro clicked the seatbelt into place and leaned back in his seat, apparently unfazed by the duck's haste. "Ay güey, I'm just hyped that we are finally getting together again for a change. So, what are we doing this time? Are we gonna hit up the club so hard we get kicked out again? Or maybe reopen the Magical Mythical Monster Petting Zoo from Scrooge's secret vault? Or how about we raid the Anvilania embassy and get the ambassador drunk again? You know she still calls me." 

Donald nodded, absolutely not absorbing anything the rooster was clucking about in favor of focusing on the road. He was happy, of course; his friend's exuberance was infectious to say the least. It had indeed been too long since they got to hang out like this as a group… but a part of him still felt tense. He chanced another glance at the vaquero—oblivious, humming merrily, a long leg resting against the door as he propped up his foot on his knee and took up what little space his seat offered. He wished he could feel so carefree.

When they arrived at the little airport, Panchito's excitement was hard to miss. Before the car could even finish pulling up to the 15-minute zone, he'd unbuckled and bolted out of the car window, running ahead towards the tarmac and calling out for Zé at the top of his lungs.

"Yeah, don't wait up or nothing!" Donald called after him with a roll of his eyes. Crazy bird, he hadn't even put the car into park yet!  The lighthearted atmosphere Panchito had cultivated was at war with the impulse to complain bubbling inside him because he wanted see Zé first, to get a chance to hold his boyfriend first before they had to act respectably platonic in front of their none the wiser companion. It wasn't jealousy, not exactly, just…

One hug, one second to let the weight of the week melt off was all he wanted. But that wasn't happening. Not yet. Instead, he'd have to wait and keep playing the part.

"Great," he muttered, jerking on the car's parking brake. "Just act natural. Simple."

The airport, while always abuzz with people from all walks of life and from every corner of the globe, was relatively less hectic on a weekday like this, and José was all the more grateful for it. Deplaning the small jet from Panama was fairly routine and done quickly, leaving Zé with a little free time before he met up with his friends. He brought with him his single suitcase, loaded with more clothes than his usual amount, plus some souvenirs from Brazil and the several other countries he had stopped in during the work week. There were things for the kids back at the manor, plus a homemade gaúcho style poncho pala made by his vovó for Della (whom the old bird had assumed was still freezing from her time on the Moon).  Strapped to the outside of the suitcase (because it could not fit) and wrapped in cloth was José's gift to Donald, a new hammock for his houseboat. He hoped he would like it.

Walking to the exit, Zé attempted to steal himself for the reunion to come. Not so much for seeing Donald, though his blood ran quick with excitement for him to be sure. But Panchito, whom he had not seen since they met for that ill-fated holiday to Bahia that never came to fruition. They had kept in constant contact even after their break up, though it caused pain on both sides. They had been determined to preserve their eternal friendship even in the face of romantic disappointment. And though it took some years for Zé to be able to look the rooster in the face without the unbearable ache in his chest urging him to take it all back and try again, he never wanted to lose sight of what drew him and the other two Caballeros together in the first place. They were his family, no matter what happened.

Even when I act like a stupid teenager and run crying to my ex-boyfriend about my hopeless crush, which turned out to be not so hopeless after all because we're together now and— Merda!

Zé closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. It was very good that he had this spare moment to compose himself as he entered the airport proper.

The distant sound of a familiar crow cut through the din of the crowd, stopping Zé in his tracks. That voice—there was no mistaking it. And like the call to sunrise, it made his heart want to leap into the sky. Spotting a tall flash of red, and a hat that he insisted was too big for his head, standing tall amongst the crowd, Zé dropped his suitcase and his umbrella and ran forward like his tail was on fire. Before he even had time to think about it, he was launching himself into Panchito's arms. The rooster caught him instantly, just like old times.

"¡¡AAAAAAJAJAJAJAJA!!" Panchito's triumphant grito echoed across the terminal. His grip was tight, almost desperate, and his wide grin spoke volumes. Zé could feel the emotion radiating from him—Panchito had missed him more than words could ever say, that much was clear. His whole body seemed to hum with excitement. 

"José!! Mi cielo!" Panchito crowed, his voice overflowing with affection as he slowly, reluctantly, released the green parrot. 

Zé smiled warmly, returning the sentiment. "It is so good to see you, docinho!" His tone was as light and affectionate as ever. "It has been too long!"

"No manches, pendejo, it's only been a few months!" Panchito guffawed, his eyes sparkling with unfiltered happiness. His grin stretched wide as he shook his head in disbelief, the warmth in his expression unmistakable. The man was an open book, his emotions always worn on his sleeve.

The malandro chuckled softly, adjusting his hat. "Well, yes, but it has been twice as long since the three of us have been—" He stopped, scanning the area. "Espere, onde está o Donald?" 

Panchito's expression shifted briefly—a flicker of realization, maybe impatience. He glanced back toward the car, where Zé knew Donald must still be catching up. The vaquero's elation had clearly driven him to rush ahead, leaving their other friend behind. Zé could almost feel the mixture of emotions brewing under Panchito's playful exterior, a familiar tug of longing buried in the joy of reunion.

But Zé knew better than to bring that up. He simply smiled again, his voice calm, teasing. "Always in a rush, eh  mano?" 

"Life is too short to sit still," the rooster replied assuredly, and his hand which still rested on his waist in a half hug pulled him in for just an instant, a punctuation to the point. 

"Hey, ya found 'im! Over here, guys!!!!" a distinctive voice cut through the busy hum of the arrival hall and Zé immediately turned towards the sound, his heart immediately catapulting into the stratosphere.

"DONAL'!" he and Panchito shouted in unison, their voices echoing across the platform. The moment the malandro caught sight of Donald looking flustered and determined as ever as he weaved through the crowd, all the excitement, the nerves, the longing came rushing back to him. He broke from Panchito's hold to sprint to him with ever increasing urgency, his heart pounding not from exertion but from sheer jubilation.

Quickly he closed the distance between them, throwing his arms around the sailor and pulling him into a tight embrace. He fit into his arms perfectly, and for a moment he didn't want to let go. Donald absorbed the impact with ease and let Zé down safely, the rest of the world seeming to melt away in an instant. Zé quickly buried his face into Donald's shoulder, feeling the comforting weight of his lover's arms around him. There was relief, adoration, and an overwhelming sense of peace. Even for just a fleeting moment, everything felt right—like he was where he belonged.

"Meu querido..." Zé whispered softly, just for Donald, though he didn't linger on the words. He knew this interlude was fleeting.

Sure enough, as if sensing their private moment was up, Donald's voice broke through their quiet intimacy. "Panchito...?" Donald called, one arm still wrapped around Zé as he extended the other towards their rambunctious rooster to include him.

Zé was too distracted with cuddling up to his sailor's side to register the gleam in Panchito's eye, at first. As it was, it was only the loud, triumphant yell that signaled their impending doom, and the parrot felt he had little choice but to make sure he didn't endure it alone, his arm holding his duck in place.

"No, wait—!" Donald started, but it was too late.

Panchito came down hard from where he had launched himself into the air like a luchador delivering his finishing move. Elbow extended, he crashed into the two of them with the energy of a firecracker bursting on impact. Donald let out a choked WAK! of surprise, his arms flailing as he was knocked clean off balance. Zé, caught in the middle of it all, simply accepted his fate with a laugh, not even trying to brace for the collision.

They tumbled down in a heap of feathers, beaks, and limbs, Zé wedged between his two best friends, both of them piled on top of Donald, who lay sprawled at the bottom. He could feel Donald wheezing beneath him, dazed from the sudden assault, while Panchito—of course—was perched victoriously at the top of the pile, leaning on one elbow like he owned the world.

"Órale! ¿Que te pasa? You were supposed to catch me!" Panchito chortled, looking entirely too pleased with himself as he flashed a wide, playful grin down at the both of them. "I could have gotten hurt!" 

"God forbid…" Donald rasped weakly.

Zé couldn't help but chuckle, even as he lay squashed in the middle. Completely unconcerned by the chaos, he wiggled into a more comfortable position between them, his head resting against Donald's back. He could feel the frantic beat of his partner's heart beneath his cheek, could hear the shallow breaths as Donald tried to recover. There was no tension, no frustration. Just pure, unbridled affection. Even in moments like this—especially in moments like this—Zé felt nothing but love for the both of them.

This was how it had always been with the three of them. Chaos and laughter, roughhousing and tenderness, all tangled together in one messy, beautiful friendship.

"Well, caras," Zé sighed contentedly, "it is good to be back where I belong."

"Where, with all of ya on top of me?" the sailor beneath him groaned, barely able to get out a full breath with all the pressure bearing down on him.

Don't tempt me, the malandro thought before immediately shelving it for later.

[ducktoonsfanart]

Donald, Daisy, Huey, Dewey and Louie Duck in Australia in Sydney - Australia Day - Quack Pack and Duckverse - My first OC

Yes, I am late, because Australia Day is celebrated on the 26th of January, but for some reason I didn’t get to finish it until now. However, since I’m currently in the spirit of Australia, I’m going to publish some drawings of our heroes related to that country.

By the way, Australia Day is celebrated because on that day, in 1788, the first fleet made landfall and raised the British flag under the command of Arthur Phillip and founded Sydney there. Admittedly, the first settlers were prisoners.

I drew another drawing related to Australia Day and related to Quack Pack, primarily my version of Quack Pack (Quack Pack AU). I drew Donald and Daisy Duck, as well as Huey, Dewey and Louie Duck went to Sydney, Australia, of course as a tourist and reporter job (Daisy is a reporter and Donald is a cameraman). They went to visit a famous wildlife conservationist, explorer and adventurer called Steve Kangaroo (named after the famous Steve Irwin, also a wildlife conservationist, television personality, and educator who unfortunately ended tragically) and that is my first OC (original character) related to the Duckverse in general, and certainly for Quack Pack. Daisy interviews Steve Kangaroo for What In World (that's the name of the show Daisy hosts), while Steve hugs Donald, like his old friend, and Huey, Dewey and Louie hang out with Steve's son Jack Kangaroo (also my first OC and he is a teenager and is the same age as HDL), and Jack shows them a boomerang, as a well-known Australian tool, "weapon" and toy. And then there's Kent Powers, who hosts the What In World show, but he's unhappy that Daisy has taken over the image for him. There is also Steve's dog Dingo (a dingo dog based on the Ducktales 1987 episode "Back Out in the Outback"). And behind them you can see the famous Sydney Opera House.

I know that Quack Pack had problems with the writing in certain episodes, but the series itself turned out to be good, and I have one dissatisfaction with that series, that they did not introduce more anthropomorphic animals, so I did it my way, by introducing kangaroos (as inhabitants who live in Australia). XD Yes, Steve and Jack wear the famous Australian outfit and Wally Jr. outfit wildlife adventurer (if that's the right word) and I also found inspiration in Backwater Jack (also an Australian adventurer) from the Quack Pack episode "Hit the Road, Backwater Jack". Only Steve and Jack are not so timid and they are brave adventurers, and Jack would be one of the best friends of Donald's nephews, and especially he would hang out with Louie, since they have similar personalities, and he would be one of the regular visitors to Duckburg. And so they all go on a trip to Australia together. My only apologies are that the camera and certain things in bolding with the marker turned out badly. Also, Steve and Jack love this music, and it's also a symbol of current Australia: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XfR9iY5y94s

I hope you like this drawing of mine and my first original characters for the Quack Pack and for the Duckverse and feel free to like and reblog this. Just don't use my ideas and my characters without mentioning me and without my permission. Thank you! I hope you like it and once again Happy Australia Day!

[spamtoon]

DCRC Week 4 Don Rosa. In week 6.

Okay so, life has been a struggle and I've generally been prioritizing other things BUT i do intend to catch up this week, starting with these two comics.

First of all I want to say how funny it is to me that he just like. casually Thinks to himself that yeah! The triplets are the sole recipients of my will! Sorry I'm just thinking in contrast to where it came up like. exclusively as a gag you know. Stories like this make me see the purpose in Gladstone as Donald's ideological foil, especially in situations Scrooge would care about such as these.

and now i shall merely return to pointing out things that amuse me

like this sardine can and this bird thats like :O at scrooge mcduck

i like how quackfaster just knows he means donald and gladstone. fethry is out of the question

donald's expressions here are a treat okay. he's so insanely excited and its beautiful. once again i am rotating the juxtaposition

i like how very subtly you can tell who the characters are in the sillouettes. sorry i notice things and go ooh you know this by now

cog these old like. donald drawings have so much charm maybe thats because i'm used to donald specifically but i'm understanding why he's so beloved literally everywhere

he's so silly okay

me in the lawbot hq fountain (INSIDE JOKE)

the way he just turns to these kids and hes like MY EMPIRE IS CRUMBLING and. he's right to turn to them because they're the smartest guys in the room. that's one thing that's consistent between duck media at the very least

all the little homemade signs... i like how he's just doing this on random trees

i like how he has a picture of a horseshoe. you know facing down. the way you aren't supposed to place a horseshoe for it to be lucky

donald really did figure the more money i get the more i lose it. lets just bail out of this whole thing

shotuout to this guy apparently named clerkly. hes probably not but im going to consider him that. you're a cockatiel to me

good comic. i can feel the Spirit of duck comics okay

ANYWAY okay let me take the teeniest of breaks and then look at the second comic

the little detail that their book actually says animals... triplets...

i was going to admire the detail on this lightbulb but it seems like someone came to admire the lightbulb first (sorry im using killbent's megavolt shimeji while i read this. let me thin the herd to allow for easier viewing)

ough these comics really are like. taking donald duck shorts and putting them on paper and ive only seen a few of those but gosh darn it. charm... whimsy...

i'm going to be honest i forgot gus goose existed. he looks so goofy here he's just aheem aheem in this panel

the way they drew the animals i'm so. they're just looking at the camera like : |

FHEAOUIJFOEAHFUEAIGHE the expressions in this one are so good

she's shown up for two seconds and i love grandma duck already

cog i just... sorry im seeing the appeal of the donald gets a taste of his own medicine stories too okay

hUIEAJFIOEJAO EIAJF sorry i'm chuckling right now okay. this got a good chuckle out of me. kinda wish it got a proper ending but i understand they had to cut some stuff to fit in all the goofy concepts they wanted. good reading... step one out of three to catching up complete!

[alanshee-keeper-of-realms]

Off the Animation Table: A Who Framed Roger Rabbit Modern AU

Joey Drew, The Mad Animator

In the early morning, one day in the late 1950s, human police would be summoned to the once proud Joey Drew Studios. It had struggled a lot like many others but falling short of its goals of being remembered. However, Joey Drew himself would make sure him and his studio were remembered in infamy

It started when a young man from the studio escaped and was able to summon the police, they would find the bodies of over 10 to 20 of the Staff in the basement along with his twisted experiments including the Ink Machine,

Walt Disney would be called to the Studio as his name was one of the key players amongst the mad man's ramblings the Detectives wishing to know if Walt could decipher what had happened,

Walt would never speak about the horrors he saw within the studios walls, but he'd witness the first Angel screaming in pain an unholy amalgamation of Toon and her voice actor, it was one of the only times he used his canister of dip that he carried, he considered it a mercy,

He did however unravel Joey's madness and gave answers to the authorities. Walt knew Joey was just like him a Magic User, imbuing Magical property's into his Toons quite like he'd done with Mickey, Donald and Goofy

However where Joey went awry was when his plans deviated into dark intentions. The Magic is only as pure as the user,

Walt always held pure intentions of bringing joy and laughter to the children spreading kindness and love to those he met,

In comparison Joey's goals were greed malice and revenge, he wished to be famous for his own egotistical reasons,

And when he turned to sacrificial ways of bringing his own Toons to life, that was when this madness gripped on even tighter,

"Joey and I are two sides of a coin we both put a sense of Magic into our Toons, however Joey is the exact opposite and this magic is the most corrupt agent possible it drives men insane as clearly shown by the discoveries at his Studios,"

Over 50 animators and several blobs of Toons would be discovered all in the name of finding a new way to bring Toons to life, even though there was already a safe way of doing so, Joey labeled a Serial Killer earning the Nickname

The Mad Animator

Walt would be the one to locate Bendy Boris and the 2nd Angel and take them under his wing, he didn't know what he'd do but he would try,

Bendy of course proved to be a bit of a handful scaring the crap out of Walt the first time the .an got a good look at the Ink Demon form, however he realized quickly this was Bendys way of protecting himself, if he didn't feel threatened he'd be the cutesy demon running around but when threatened the ink demon would appear

This just baffled and horrified Walt more of the exact experiments Joey had done to his toons,

With Walts passing, Bendy Boris and Angel would leave to heal further with the Traumas they had, Mickey wouldn't hear of the Trio until 2016 when Bendy and the Ink Machine was released based on the Mad Animator and the stories Bendy had trusted another Studio to handle creating a new interest in the stories of the Joey Drew Studios and the horrors that had occurred within its walls

[xtruss]

An Illustration Shows Donald Trump, Mitch McConnell, Nancy Pelosi and Joe Biden Racing with the Aid of Walkers. Art By Barry Blitt

Barry Blitt’s “The Race For Office”! The Artist Discusses Hernias, Walkers, and the Joys of Old Age.

— By Françoise Mouly | September 25, 2023

Is the U.S.—long thought to be the land of new beginnings—in danger of becoming a sclerotic gerontocracy? “In a declining society, the images of an aging leadership can come to embody a general sense of withering and decay,” David Remnick writes in the Comment for the October 2, 2023, issue. “A civic nightmare becomes the caricaturist’s dream.” For the issue’s cover, the cartoonist Barry Blitt portrays the irony and absurdity of the advanced-age politicians currently vying for our top offices. Blitt, who, at sixty-five, is a qualified member of the past-their-prime cohort, also drew from his own experience. As a fellow old duffer (I’m nearly three years older than he is), I called him for a kvetch fest and was rewarded with talk of borrowed walkers, missing teeth, lost hair, and some new belly buttons.

So, what’s up, as the kids say? Is it the knee today or is it the digestion?

Right. I’m sure the readers would love to know what’s ailing me. The knees are both fine, and the digestion is top-notch, thanks for asking. But I think you’ll be thrilled to hear that I recently had five hernias taken care of in one day. When I went in, they thought it was going to be two or three, but afterward the doc couldn’t wait to tell me he found five of them. As I regained consciousness, he was excitedly showing me a diagram of what he’d done.

[Laughs.] That was a good day for hernias.

Well, yes, a good day for a hernia doctor to add to his war stories. It’s not like it used to be, where they’d have to cut you wide open. They do it laparoscopically—I think they go in through your belly button. In any case, now I’ve got some new, extra belly buttons. [Laughs.] Also, it was supposed to be an outpatient procedure, but they kept me overnight—I was a bit of a mess afterward. (Is this really going to be part of the interview? I’d rather talk about bitcoin.) But anyway, this was all a couple of months ago, I’m feeling much better now.

I’m so glad I asked. You wouldn’t have told me otherwise.

I was honestly telling everybody, because it seemed like some kind of record. But then I met someone a couple of weeks ago, a woman at a dinner party, who wasn’t impressed at all. She told me she’d once had seven done in one day! And she wasn’t even old, though it likely happened to her because she had delivered three children.

So not the cause for yours, obviously. What did you do to deserve so many hernias? Were you lifting art work?

No, not art work, but for a while, I was playing gigs in New York City and carrying my electric piano and an amp around. Like an idiot, I used to schlep them on and off of Metro-North trains and into taxis, because I was nervous about driving into town. So I’m sure that’s where I got a few of them.

I knew it had to be for the sake of art.

This wasn’t art, but, yes, it was for the sake of fun.

So other than hernias . . .

Right, what else? I’ve got a lot less hair than I had at the beginning of the pandemic. If you’re going to lose your hair, you want to do it gradually over time, so people see you every day and they get to take it in stride.

[Laughs.] But how would anyone know, since you’re always wearing a hat?

Beware of the times you can’t wear a hat—that’s my motto. But everything else is sort of all right. I mean, I’m missing some teeth, too. [Laughs.] I am missing five teeth. Or maybe it’s six. I’ll do a count after we talk. Only one is conspicuous, in the front. I’ve got to do something about that one.

Why are you losing so many teeth? You just wake up and they fall to the floor?

No, no. I don’t know if you’ve had any root canals, but root canals don’t last forever. Sometimes the shell of the root cracks and gets infected, and they have to pull the tooth. So I’ve had a bunch of those. I have “Montreal teeth.” That’s what they call it. We didn’t have fluoride in our water until much later than most places.

Wow!

Although, it doesn’t seem to be affecting any of my friends or my brother or anybody else I know from Montreal—I’ve just got terrible teeth.

[Laughs.] My dentist is nice and always tells me there’s also a genetic component.

Maybe, but my parents have way more teeth than I do. Actually, I remember being quite young and looking at the gaps between my great-grandfather’s teeth. And now I am my own great-grandfather in that way.

[Laughs.] Are there any other ways that you feel like you’re your own great-grandfather?

Well, my mother has a fancy walker, and I take it for a spin when I’m in Montreal. I have walked around the house with it, you know, preparing myself for the inevitable. It’s just a matter of time. But besides the teeth, the hair, the hernias, and probably a couple of other things, I’m surprisingly fine.

[minijenn]

Yessss so I can finally talk about the KH Anastasia AU I've been having Brainrot over for like the past 2 weeks. Yes this is 100% based on the animated Anastasia (which I watched the other night while working on these, pretty good movie though terribly historically inaccurate whoops) and its time for me to ramble about it.

So once upon a time there was this lovely seaside kingdom known as the Destiny Islands, ruled by a kindly king and queen who have five kids (in this AU, the Heart Squad are all siblings, so the oldest is Ven, then Vanitas and Sora who are twins, then Roxas, then Xion). The middle prince, Sora is betrothed to the Princess of Radiant Garden, Kairi, and they're childhood best friends, along with a young servant boy who works at the palace named Riku. So yeah, cute childhood Destiny Trio vibes until...

Old Man Xehanort comes along to fuck everything up; he banishes the king and queen to the Realm of Darkness, holds the kids hostage (and they all kinda suffer a lot as a result, but I'll save all that for when I draw them), and only one of them manages to escape (its Sora, of course), though he suffers a bad fall, konks his head, and winds up losing all his memories at the ripe old age of 8 years old.

Fast forward 8 years and Xehanort's fully taken over, the Islands are miserable, and nobody can travel to or from them (knowledge/travel between worlds is a common thing in this AU shhhh). We have a bitter and sarcastic Riku, living in the abandoned old palace with Donald and Goofy, a pair of dignitaries who had been visiting from Disney Town who got stranded on the Islands during Xehanort's coup. In an attempt to finally get off the islands, these three are trying to capitalize on a rumor that's popular among the islanders, who, despite thinking the rest of the royal family is dead, think Prince Sora might still be alive. Princess Kairi, desperate to find him, is offering a massive reward to anyone who can bring him back to her safe and sound. Though he acts like its just a simple con for quick cash, for Riku, finding the lost prince is far more of an... emotional matter, not that he'd ever let anyone else know.

At the same time, a 16 year old orphan named Skye is not so kindly kicked out of the orphanage that had taken him in when he'd been found as an 8 year old, without a single memory to call his own. Eager to discover if he has a family and reclaim his lost memories (and guided by a mysterious seashell charm someone gave him a long time ago, though he can't remember who) Skye ventures to the old palace, where he meets Riku, Donald, and Goofy. Naturally, they notice the rather startling resemblance Skye has to the lost prince, and decide he'd be the perfect candidate to present to the princess to claim the reward. So they teach this poor lost kid (with a surprising snark to match Riku's own) how to be royalty, all in the hopes that he can somehow manage to convince Kairi. Meanwhile, Xehanort catches wind of rumors of a boy who looks surprisingly like the lost prince he thought had been killed the night of his coup, a prince who could very well lead to the end of his rigid regime if he doesn't put a swift, and violent end to this problem before it can even begin...

So yeah that was a lot! I also drew a lot! From "Orphan" Skye (see what I did there with his fake name ahahah), to a fancy outfit for the equivalent to the "Once Upon a December" scene, to an "opera scene" outfit, to full regal robes (honestly I love drawing Sora in fancy outfits XD). Same deal for Kairi, and Riku too, these were honestly so much fun to draw.

And don't worry cause I plan on drawing even more for this AU too! There's a lot of other characters I haven't really talked about, like Kairi's sister Namine, her attendant Aqua, some poor royal guards forced to work for Xehanort back on the islands like Terra and Axel, and of course the siblings. So suffice to say I plan to draw more for this AU and... mmmm possibly even write it....? We'll see ahahhaha :3

[itsmespicaa]

Miracle Mask but make it Genshin<3

(Part of the PL Genshin!AU I’m doing with @daysneezes!!)

Hershel took a small sip of the tea he brewed earlier in the day, his Vision perched securely on the velvet ribbon of his top hat.

"What about this, Professor?"

A letter was suddenly thrust in front of him, obstructing his entire view. Already used to the rather unorthodox way his assistant carried herself, he leaned back to properly assess the piece of paper that now warranted his attention, reading it as she explained its content.

"I‘m afraid this one sounds more like something the adventurers should be handling, Emmy."

He nodded to her, hoping she could see the regret in his smile. It was a rather enticing one, and he could see why it would catch her attention…but alas. He only had so much time to spare for those who required help from his...gifted abilities.

Emmy frowned, sharp eyes scanning over the words that covered the entire page once more before sighing.

"I suppose you‘re right. I‘ll see to it that the Guild is informed of this right away."

"That would be much appreciated. Should they need our further assistance, let them know we would be more than happy to lend it to them."

"But of course!"

The hour passed by in relative silence, both of them consumed by the work cut out before them. Emmy continued going through the rest of the letters he had approved for her to read, and after another bout of discussions, they agreed to divide a lot of them to the hands of the authorities and the Adventurer’s Guild, and kept the less dire ones for whenever Hershel had time to spare.

It was at that moment that Luke finally arrived, stumbling as he opened the door to his office. His leather satchel seems to be filled to the brim, his blue Vision as deep the seas hanging on for dear life on its side.

"Sorry I‘m late, Professor!" he cried, "But I had to help a family of ducks cross the road and the mailman left another batch of letters-"

"Now, now. Calm down, Luke. It‘s quite alright," Hershel chuckled. "Come sit and have tea with me. You look like you've been through quite the ordeal."

With a sheepish smile, the young boy crossed the room and handed the letters to Emmy, whining when he failed to dodge her playfully ruffling his hair.

The next hour passed by again comfortably, and Hershel was in the middle of writing back to one of his colleagues when Emmy‘s voice drew him back to the real world.

Or rather, the name she uttered.

"Professor, does the name Angela Ledore ring any bell?"

Time…stopped, for but a small moment. He inwardly shook his head, willing the memories from almost two decades ago out of his mind. 

"Why yes…of course. But where did you hear that name?"

More than a little curious and caught off guard, he blinked as Emmy slowly handed the letter in her hand to him.

"It was on the letter." Something in his expression must have betrayed his inner turmoil, because the young woman continued: "It‘s not quite a name I‘m familiar with, nor is it any of the usual ones who would seek your expertise."

Luke reached in before he could grab the letter, "Oh! Let me," nimbly ripping the envelope with a letter opener and with a bright smile handed its content to him.

It was hard not to smile back at how eager the boy was to lend a helping hand. "Thank you very much, Luke," he said warmly, resting a hand briefly on top of his head before directing his focus to the writing in front of him. 

When he finished, Hershel was silent. Wordlessly, he gave the letter to Emmy before walking to his open window, breathing in the fresh morning air to try and calm the anxiety creeping up his back.

I do hope you forgive me after all these years. I don‘t know who else to turn to.

We are in desperate need of your help, Hershel. 

"After all these years…." he muttered, gently taking off his hat and gazing at the glowing golden Vision staring back at him. Accusing. Unforgiving. He held back a flinch. Why, Angela?

"…Professor? Is everything alright?"

Ah, how careless of him.

"Everything's fine, Luke," he returned his hat where it belonged and sauntered to where both of them crowded around the enigmatic piece of paper. "My apologies, I didn't mean to make you both worry. It‘s just…she’s an old friend of mine, and the content of her letter worries me."

The frown on Emmy‘s face deepened, but she was not his assistant for nothing, knowing well what to prioritize and when. It was moments like these that he was truly glad to have her here. 

"So the Mask of Chaos…"

"What is that?" asked young Luke, wide eyes brimming with curiosity and hunger to know more. But before he could reply, Emmy seemed to have beaten him to it.

"According to Donald Rutledge in his book 'Ancient Histories', the mask bestows great power upon those who wear it. Legend says it was left by one of the old gods as a gift to humanity, but no one has been able to prove its existence thus far."

"Indeed, the allure of omnipotence is as old as the Archons themselves." He couldn‘t quite hide his surprise when he said: "You seem to know quite a lot about the mask, Emmy."

The young woman grinned, the fiery red Vision fashioned into her bowtie twinkled along with her eyes. "Well, I did take a few courses here and there before applying to be your assistant. Jumping in blind into the world of archeology doesn‘t seem like the wisest decision, wouldn't you agree?"

That…made perfect sense. "I see…"

"Did I leave something out, Professor?"

"Oh, no, no. You‘re absolutely correct."

Luke continued to ask more about the Mask, and both he and Emmy alternated in explaining it to him, with Hershel more often than not simply adding useful trivias he still remembered from Randall‘s excited chatter many, many years ago.

An old, familiar pain ached in his heart, something difficult to dismiss, but Hershel was determined to lock it away for the time being, at least until he had his answers from Angela.

"So what is your relationship with Ms. Angela, Professor? Is she one of Professor Layton’s lost loves?" Emmy‘s spirits must have been lifted for her to tease him. It wasn‘t unusual for her to do so after a year of working together, and he had come to welcome it each time, albeit with a wry smile more often than not.

This time, however, he could only shake his head, a heavy weight burdening his chest, memories of night escapades and jovial laughter with a certain redhead lost in the callous hands of time and forced distances.

"Hardly," he replied, hoping he did not sound as contrite as he felt then. "I’ve known her since my school days. Our relationship was…complicated, at best."

Despite his attempt to do otherwise, this effectively dampened Emmy‘s countenance, her head bowing slightly in a show of apology. "I see."

They agreed to set out in a few days, Luke having to ask his parents‘ permission, and Emmy freeing up both her and the Professor‘s schedules for the next few weeks and requesting approval from the Dean.

The guilt he felt at being absent from his students was something he had come to know well, and as usual, he made sure to let them know in advance, helping the substitute lecturer get up to date on his last sessions and materials.

Fontaine University had grown accustomed to its esteemed Professor‘s tendencies to conduct sudden research leaves, and this time it was no different. But the mere mention of the Mask of Chaos certainly helped in speeding up the process.

"We look forward to your findings, Hershel," said Dean Delmona, nodding at him with pride. Hershel tipped his head with a polite curve of his lips.

"I will do my very best, sir," he said. "And I do hope the agreed upon terms of confidentiality will be respected, as per usual."

"Naturally, my dear boy," he laughed, "we know how you operate. Don‘t let us get in your way."

"Many thanks, sir."

[whoslink]

Let's cut this off here, so that there isn't a gigantic post on my blog.

I posted 46 times in 2022

That's 46 more posts than 2021! (Well, since I joined this year...)

43 posts created (93%)

3 posts reblogged (7%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@arielthedodo

@thecatnamedpoppy

@castawaysuniverse

I tagged 46 of my posts in 2022

#my art i guess - 38 posts

#legend of zelda - 12 posts

#loz - 11 posts

#sonic the hedgehog - 9 posts

#school doodles - 8 posts

#tears of the kingdom - 7 posts

#art improvement - 7 posts

#sonic archie comics - 5 posts

#stranger things - 4 posts

#sonic oc - 4 posts

Longest Tag: 65 characters

#idk what else to tag since im not familiar enough with the series

My Top Posts in 2022:

The original post will be written like this, my addition will be written normally.

#5

44 notes - Posted August 8, 2022

Couldn't add all the pictures, but these two were my favorites. All these characters really need some appreciation.

#4

I had two free periods during school today (which explains the lined paper, I should really get a school sketchbook), so it's time to draw Teba! I've only drawn him once before, but I absolutely loved him (and still do) while playing through Breath of the Wild.

I'm probably going to draw more Rito during school, I love all of their designs :)

Also, Zelda Tumblr, what are we thinking about the new trailer?

65 notes - Posted September 27, 2022

I love this drawing. It was the first time I experimented with a lineless style.

#3

Drew these two a while back after watching their scenes in the DuckTales reboot; I wish they appeared more!

Did you know they're actually reoccurring comic characters in my local Donald Duck comics? I think that's pretty cool.

That's a good one! I love these 2 birds.

68 notes - Posted August 16, 2022

#2

No rush, chum. No rush at all.

By far my favorite NPC in New Leaf and New Horizons, but I prefer his shop over the stand.

Kicks looks like a villain in this drawing, whoops.

81 notes - Posted December 3, 2022

A last minute contender, apparently. It's still growing in notes, thanks everyone, I love Kicks just as much as you all do.

My #1 post of 2022

The second bird man, Champion Revali himself! Falco Lombardi who?

Revali really should've been the first character in this set, but my urge to draw Teba got in the way of that (find Teba here). Now Kass is next, and the final one in this trilogy!

158 notes - Posted September 30, 2022

I really don't know why this post got as much attention as it did. I liked my drawings of Teba and Kass more. However, this is the first (and only!) post of mine that got more than 100 notes, so thank you everyone!

Onto a great 2023!

[karla-the-elemental-dreamer]

KH-OC Week 2022 - Day 7 Package

@khoc-week

This one is a bit of a read :3

I felt much better about KH-OC Week this year as I was much more prepared, and there were no ‘mental blocks’. It has been fun seeing all the OCs of the contributors, as well as reading the thoughts on various works. Just imaging how big and vast the Kingdom Hearts world would be if all the OCs were networked into the same reality.

Day 7 is all about ‘special connections’, and I am going out with a bang. Firstly, on the emphasis on the strong bond that I have with Riku and Terra. For those of you who do not know. Riku started off as the sole dream guide, coming in on 22 MAY 2020. From around mid-2021, Terra started to observe what Riku was doing, and decided to help out a bit. During that time, I asked him if he wanted to be a dream guide, but he got a bit finnicky about it. On October 2, something happened which made Terra actually panic and therefore rush in to finally put his hand up and say yes to being a dream guide. So now, in terms of just looking at Kingdom Hearts, I have two ‘father figures’. And there is an advantage as Riku and Terra already get along well together.

Riku works with more verbal and active teaching, whereas Terra seems to take a gentler approach, and excels more in physical action and affection, as well as teaching me about aspects of love and life through every day experiences.

Even Aqua is aware and fully supports Terra being a second dream guide (and is really happy for him), as for 2021, and the first 5 – 6 months of 2022, she always tried to take over in dreams as Terra still felt weak. Terra has been a dream guide for a while, but once again felt slow. It was only about a month ago that Terra has ‘woken up’ to his role, and in return, Aqua is stepping back and no longer feels like she has to do his work.

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The following is an artwork that was done for me earlier this year via commission from kofiscrib, aka. Yassen Shopov. A really easy person to work with. To make it more affordable, I said, “you do the lines and I’ll do the colour”, so the colouring and the background is all me; as well as inclusion of the dress print :3

And there you have it, a new Kingdom Hearts trio!

Artist's Tumblr: kofiscrib.tumblr.com

Can't put their @ for some reason, so hopefully the link works.

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An instrument all about connection in Kingdom Hearts is a heart station! I drew one of myself.

TBH I didn’t know how to portray my OC (myself) this year as I don’t actually have a default outfit. So I used the Heart Station design:

Trivia: My outfits change (/can change), but Selvian’s and Sierras are concrete (for now anyway).

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In preparing for KH-OC week, I realised I was working with Riku and Terra a lot as they’re my dream guides. But then I realised; “Oh my gosh! I’m ignoring all the other guardians of light!”. So coincidentally when it got the start of the week (the Monday), I said to them in my book, “alright, you all have a chance to submit a piece. Ask Riku or Terra for instructions”.

So then this happened and all of them decided that they would say something to me. The way they speak is based on what I perceived them saying, and therefore wrote down in my book. The order is based on their submission day/time. I felt Sora (via energy) waiting to go last on purpose, for a reason you will see at the end.

So enjoy what each of the guardians of light have to say about me and/or my world:

“Hey Karla, I’m sorry I don’t know you well, even though you’ve been with us for two years. Thank you for always being there for Riku, especially in reminding us of the light during Sora’s absence. And thank you for taking me through that public event [Kairi Week 2021] last year. I haven’t used my Metallic Wielder keyblade since, but I still have it in my inventory”.

“Heya Karly! Oh… I got your name wrong. Well, Donald and I just wanna say thank you for stickin’ with us [whole KH group] and helpin’ out our good Keyblade Master Riku. Sorry I don’t know too much about that Terra fella. Say, I have a hunch you’ve been visiting Sora with Jak. If you see Sora next time, can ya tell him that Donald and Goofy really miss him?”.

“Hey there girlfriend. Sorry, just got a bit carried away there. But you’re with all the other big boys, being Riku and Terra; so when’s my turn? I’ve got a big sea-salt ice-cream with your name on it, and I’m sure Roxas misses you being down this way too. Don’t keep us waiting sugarplum”.

“Karla… Thank you. Words can’t begin to describe how thankful I am for you being in our life. I’m fighting back tears while writing this. I’ve never come across someone who believes in me so much, and the fact that you’ve given me a seat on your three thrones alongside Riku and Jak. It means so much to me that since October last year, I’ve been able to work alongside Riku and gain perspectives on your life that no one otherwise would. And it also warms my heart how at times you stood up for me in front of Master Eraqus even though you didn’t have to. Keep being that beautiful girl that lights up other peoples’ lives, and bring your bears over to the Land of Departure for a visit”.

“Hey, Karla. Sorry if I’ve ever taken over too much in the past. I was only trying to keep the bond between you and Terra alive in times where he didn’t understand as much. But I’m glad that you two have finally found the happy ending, and seeing your confidence in Terra has opened my eyes up too, that he isn’t just some feckless youth that needs to be watched all the time. And I see Riku has taught you well. I just wish that Ven and I could get to know you better”.

"Goofy said it all".

“Gosh Karla, I don’t know where to start. You and Sora are similar in a lotta ways. I’ve seen Riku become a person he’s never been before, in terms of a light so bright I never imagined. To be honest, I was a bit worried at the start when Riku would get angry with you, but now I see it. You were just trying to push him out of his comfort zone and get him to trust you. I think you’re a swell person, and both Riku and Terra are lucky to have a dreamer like you”.

“Hey Karla, sorry I didn’t get mine in sooner. I just wanted to wait for a time when you wouldn’t be flooded with so much of your projects. And that’s what Terra and I, and all our friends are amazed with. The fact that you can work so hard and be so dedicated to your passions. Guess I didn’t give you enough credit back in 2020 huh. But now that I know you a lot better, it’s a whole different kettle of fish. I know that sometimes you get a little intimidated by the idea of me being a Keyblade Master, and I see you step back sometimes and question where we’re at. I just want to remind you that regardless of my role in Kingdom Hearts, I will always be your dream guide, and I love you. I’ll always be around to keep your steady or be a shoulder to cry on. Thanks for helping us all out, especially with Sora”.

“Hey Karla, it’s Roxas. I guess I’ll start off by asking how you’ve been. The Twilight side doesn’t hear much from you lately, aside from maybe Namine as I know you’ve been to the mansion. Come down and have an ice-cream with us someday. I can introduce you to Hayner, Pence and Olette. Aside from that, I don’t have much else on my mind at the moment”.

“Hey, Karla. I probably know you the least out of all the guardians, but I’ve heard some great stories about you. Apparently you know where Sora is but can’t tell us for reasons to do with the Order. Good luck with your journeys to the other world. I hope we can talk sometime soon”.

“Hey Karla! It’s Ven here. Thanks for being a good friend to Terra, Aqua and myself. Oh… I stand corrected, you’re Terra’s ‘dreamer’, and Riku’s too. I see you’re finally learning how to use the keyblade in full. It’ll be exciting when Terra and Riku teach you enough so we can spar together. Apparently you can also summon Terra’s keyblades? That’s awesome! Terra’s been a lot happier around the castle lately. I think it’s got something to do with your promise of ‘giving him back the ten years he lost’. Remember! I wanna be the first one you spar with outside Terra and Riku!”.

“Hey Karla. It’s Namine. Sorry I’ve written a bit after the deadline. Some of the stuff you do is similar to me. I noticed you and I share the same bonds of Riku and Terra. I helped them when they were in the darkness. You’re helping them after they found their way back to the light. The bonds you share with them are powerful, and I actually think that be being your mentors and dream guides, they’re evolving into a role and place that even Kingdom Hearts cannot comprehend. You’ve been to the mansion a number of times. So I’d like to swap, and spend more time in your world to see what you do and where your magic happens. Let me know when you’re ready”.

As Sora is stuck in Quadratum, he has done an ‘absentee submission’ via my non-kingdom-hearts dream guide Jak:

“Hey! Karla, is it? Sorry, my memory’s a little foggy. I wanna say a lot about you, but I only know so little. You don’t know me, yet you want to be my friend. I enjoy hanging out with you and Jak every time you come to Quadratum. Though I’m confused about why you’re saying I have so many friends when I only know Strelitzia and you guys. That dream I had about a talking dog and a duck knowing me is freaky. It’s obvious you come from somewhere else, and you’re trying to help me remember a life I’ve most likely forgotten. Still, the energy in Quadratum feels lighter when you’re there, so I can’t wait until you come back… Wait… You want me to write a letter to the dog and the duck!!!?”.

My idea with Sora is that no Kingdom Hearts characters are allowed in Quadratum until Nomura (the IRL games) allows them to be. Hence why the ‘compatibility’ rule comes into place. For any dreams where I am in Quadratum, I must be under dream guide protection. So with this condition in-place, as well as the ‘compatibility’ rule, Jak is the only dream guide allowed as he is the only non-kingdom-hearts. If the compatibility rule was in place for Jak, then only Riku or Terra would be allowed to act.

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THE FINALE! – How KH-OC Week 2022 has changed my lore:

Participating in a concrete event has seemed to push my lore in a certain way; whether it’d be via waking life or something that happened in a dream. Here are some of the changes that have spontaneously occurred:

Before: Karla would avoid using a keyblade for fighting; she would only do so as a last resort if she had to. After: Karla uses a keyblade whenever there’s a need to.

Before: Riku and Terra were simply Karla’s dream guides. After: They are now also her keyblade teachers.

Before: Karla could only wield her own keyblades. After: It has been discovered that Karla can wield the keyblades of anyone she’s connected to. In this case; Riku, Terra and the teddies.

Before: The teddies were originally not able to wield keyblades at all. After: Selvian and Sierra are also able to wield keyblades. Their keyblades are a miniature version in order to match the size of their bodies.

Thank you all for putting on this week; and for your very insightful comments on each package :3 💙

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Same content but in WordPress view: https://karlasworld1998.wordpress.com/2022/08/07/kh-oc-week-2022-day-7-package/

[ducklooney]

Although belated, happy Donald's 87th birthday and happy Father's Day!

Yes, I planned to do this on the occasion of Donald's 87th birthday, which he celebrates on June 9, but for various reasons I did not manage to do it, because I had exams and the like. And now I have, but I did, so I drew this on the occasion of Father's Day. Yes, in addition to Donald Duck being the best parent for his nieces (Huey, Dewey and Louie Duck), there are other fathers and uncles who are also Donald’s friends. I don't know, I'd like to see them all together. Certainly, apart from the fact that this year is not such a jubilee, there are still things worth knowing. This year is the 90th anniversary of the appearance of the first prototype for the creation of Donald Duck, it is also the 30th anniversary of Darkwing Duck, the 25th anniversary of PKNA (Paperinik New Adventures), the 25th anniversary of Quack Pack and the third anniversary of Legends of the Three Caballeros. Since I don't always manage to draw what I should, I decided to put all this in one pile and not all the characters were added, so I apologize for that, even though they should be here. Don't blame me for that. So I put Darkwing Duck, Disney comics (European and Brazilian), Quack Pack, Legend of the Three Caballeros, Paperinik (PKNA) and Double Duck into one, because I think this year is very good for such an anniversary. Yes, there are characters from Ducktales. And before I list who everyone is here, let me just say that I mostly put them in a modern version mixed with a classic style. Since I don't have a printer or scanner, I took pictures via the camera and you can see the accessories around this drawing on my desk. Sorry about that. Also, most of the kids here are teenagers (only Dugan Duck and Newton Gearloose aren't, they're still ordinary boys, though I don't know what I could do about Newton), and both Drake and Launchpad wear Hawaiian shirts, as does Donald Duck.

Like on Donald Duck’s own birthday, there’s his girlfriend Daisy who loves him. And besides the two of them, there are Huey Dewey and Louie Duck (Donald's nephews), April, May and June Duck (Daisy's nieces), Della Duck (Donald's twin sister, also her happy birthday), Gus Goose and Fethry Duck (Donald's cousins), Drake Mallard, Launchpad McQuack, Morgana Macawber, Gosalyn Mallard (Drake's daughter), Honker Muddlefoot, Webby Vanderquack, Gene the Genie (real boy), Gyro Gearloose (barely visible, sorry), goddess Xandra, Panchito Pistoles, Jose (Ze) Carioca, Rosinha (Maria) Vaz, Nestor (Jose’s friend), Zico and Zeca Carioca (Jose's nephews), Uno (One-A.I. Computer duck), Kay K and Lyla Lay, Reginella, Aracuan Bird and Newton Gearloose (Gyro's nephew) and Dugan Duck (Fethry's nephew). They all celebrate Donald’s birthday together, but Della’s birthday. Yes, even though it is Donald's 87th birthday, it is still more of a jubilee, because Donald doesn't look like that (he's between 30 and 50 years old like this). Yes, I wanted to add Fenton, Gandra, Scrooge, Magica, Grandma Duck, Dickie Duck and other characters, but I don't care, so they will be present another time. This is enough. Sorry about that.

Once again, happy birthday to Donald Duck, our best duck and definitely Happy Father’s Day! And happy anniversary! 

And happy birthday to Della Duck!

[lettheladylead]

Not Your Aunt

Chapter 7: Huey [ao3 link]

It’d been two days since her chat with Dewey and Goldie found herself still in Scrooge’s home. Normally she would’ve left the morning after her little visit, but he’d been so busy with all of his family’s craziness that they hadn’t really had a chance to talk yet. Donald had apparently just left on a trip with his girlfriend and some clone children and everyone was adjusting to all the news and everything they’d been through.

So Goldie figured she would just...wait around. She’d informed the necessary people that she was alive, shockingly, after being missing for a few weeks, so she could take a few more days to herself. And it wasn’t like Scrooge didn’t know she was there; she’d still spent both nights in his bed, but he’d been falling asleep pretty quickly and getting up early and this whole situation they were in felt disturbingly domestic. She’d probably need to leave sooner or later, before anyone started to think she was moving in.

At that particular moment, Goldie was situated on the living room couch, wearing a tank top and sweatpants and flipping through the channels on the TV without much thought. Scrooge was at another meeting at the Money Bin and if she didn’t know any better she’d almost think he was avoiding her with all of his late night meetings. Actually, she didn’t really know better, since this was kind of a new situation for them, but...well...what was she supposed to do about it? Go with him? That sounded terribly boring.

A home redecorating show she liked came on and Goldie decided to forget everything else and just sit back and try to enjoy it. Overthinking things with Scrooge never worked out well for her. It was one of many reasons why after over a hundred years, she felt out of place just sitting in his home without him.

The pitter patter of tiny feet coming her way didn’t ease that feeling at all, either.

She glanced to the right as the other triplet - Huey, she was confident she had that right - picked himself up and plopped himself on the couch next to her. She’d never had a single conversation with this child, but she’d stolen from him and knew he kept a ridiculous number of things hidden under his tiny little hat. It was fascinating. But otherwise she didn’t know much about him or why he would be attempting to interact with her.

“I’d like to go over some scheduling issues,” he said suddenly, pulling a notebook and a pen out from under his hat.

Goldie glanced around the room briefly and then back at him. “...with me?”

“Yes,” Huey responded matter-of-factly. “If you’re going to be staying here for a while or living here or whatever’s happening with you, ideally I’d love to add you to the shared family calendar.”

“...what?”

“...but assuming you’re just here for a few days and then coming and going at your leisure, just knowing ahead of time when you and Uncle Scrooge are having your date nights would be perfect.” He took notes while he was talking, as if Goldie had given him even a single answer. “I like to know where he is in case we need him for anything. I’m sure you understand.”

“I, uh…” Goldie took a moment to go over everything he said and quickly shook her head. “Your uncle and I do not have ‘date nights’.”

“Well maybe not this time around since he’s been so busy, but isn’t that the plan?” Huey asked genuinely, still taking notes on who-knew-what. “Once he’s free I assume you’ll get dinner and have a talk about your relationship and our family. And other adult date stuff.”

Goldie responded to that with the most neutral, unemotional stare that Huey had ever received. She took the remote and muted the television before turning her whole body towards the nosy child next to her, lifting her feet up onto the couch. “And why exactly do you assume that?”

Huey tilted his head at her. “Oh...sorry, isn’t that right? Dewey said you’d been wandering around waiting to talk to Uncle Scrooge so that’s just the conclusion I drew. Plus you’re...y’know, still here even though he’s not. And you’re not stealing anything.”

“I have other hobbies.”

He pointed to the TV with his pen. “Like the Property Brothers?”

Goldie glanced at the screen and then back at the kid. “Even if, hypothetically, you were right about all of that, I am absolutely not ever joining your family calendar.”

Huey shook his head. “I don’t know why you’d say that like it’s a bad thing. Don’t you want to be organized?”

“I’m plenty organized by myself.”

“But if you were synced with us, then you’d know when Uncle Scrooge or Louie is available to spend time with.”

Goldie paused for a moment and stared at him. She’d barely spoken to her favorite of Della’s kids since arriving at the house and having him brought up felt like some kind of dig. She wasn’t sure how to respond to it without getting defensive and she wasn’t even sure what she’d be getting defensive about. “...I prefer the element of surprise. Keeps the boys on their toes.”

Huey shook his head and shrugged. “So how long are you staying here? Can I at least know that?”

“I’m not really sure,” Goldie answered, leaning fully against the back of the couch. It was pretty comfy. “Not too long. I’ve got other places to be.”

“...extremely vague and unhelpful,” Huey mumbled, jotting something down in his notebook. “You and Uncle Scrooge are quite the pair.”

Goldie only responded to that with a short hum, grabbing the remote to get back to her show.

“Can I ask you something else?”

She sighed and put the remote back down. “It’s not like I can stop you.”

Huey turned his body fully towards her, one leg up on the couch and one still dangling. “Well...if I’m making you really uncomfortable or anything, I can stop.”

Goldie raised an eyebrow at him, surprised by the suggestion, but quickly waved it off. “What’s your question?”

“Are you planning on marrying Uncle Scrooge?”

If she’d been drinking anything, she would’ve spit it out at that moment. Goldie could say with absolute certainty that she did not see that question coming. “What could I have possibly said to make you think that?”

“Not you,” Huey said earnestly. “I just noticed that everyone seems to call you Aunt Goldie and I remember in one of Uncle Scrooge’s journals he wrote about marriage when he wrote about you so I assumed you two have had a conversation about it at least once or twice. Right?”

Goldie’s eyes widened and she felt heat rising in her chest that she couldn’t explain away as simple heartburn. She hoped her face wasn’t red to match, because this kid was clearly observant and blunt and she didn’t need the whole family thinking she wanted to get married and move in. “I, uh…” Goldie cleared her throat awkwardly. “...no, it’s not something we’ve really talked about.”

Huey looked at her in confusion. “Not really or not at all?”

She grimaced and sighed and moved her hands around her face as she tried to put her thoughts together. “It’s not...I mean, it’s not never come up, it’s just...it’s complicated. It’d be hard to explain.”

“Try me.”

Goldie frowned and barely stopped herself from glaring at him. “...y’know what, if your uncle is the one writing Goldie McDuck in little hearts all over his workbooks, maybe you should talk to him about it, hm?”

Huey blinked up at her. “I guess I can do that. He’s just always very secretive when it comes to you.”

That got her attention a little more than it should’ve. Goldie sighed internally and didn’t bother trying to stop herself. “...what do you mean by that?”

“Well, like…” Huey moved so both of his legs were dangling again and he could swing them around. “I love romance a lot. I love to read about it and watch romantic movies...my friend Fenton and his girlfriend Gandra are so sweet together and Uncle Donald and his girlfriend are also really sweet together and I really love that for both of them. But then you and Uncle Scrooge seem like you’re happy sometimes but then when I ask him about you he gets all grumbly and doesn’t answer my questions, so that’s not a good sign. But I’m really curious about it because I know there’s all different types of romance out there and I don’t even know how the two of you met.”

Goldie hummed quietly and stared at the wall over the TV, considering her response. She definitely wouldn’t describe her and Scrooge’s relationship as ‘sweet,’ but she’d never tried to sum it up into one word before. “...the way we met is also very...complicated.”

“It seems like everything about you two is complicated.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” she said with a short, quiet laugh. “I do love your uncle, but it’s just-...!”

Huey gasped, and Goldie froze at the realization of what she’d just said. She stared directly at Huey who looked more excited than he’d been for any of the rest of their conversation. He was suddenly fully engaged thanks to her accidental use of the l-word. She glanced away from him and hoped she could stumble over that, but she’d paused for too long for them to simply move past it.

It wasn’t like she’d never said it before, but absolutely never to someone in his family. That would be...too much.

“You do?!” Huey asked - his notepad down and leaning towards her and putting his hands on his cheeks. “Does Uncle Scrooge know? Has he said it too? That’s so romantic!”

Goldie groaned and looked back at the TV, only to see the couple fixing up their house snuggling on the camera. “I mean, look. We’ve been...well, it’s been over a hundred years, so yeah these things are bound to be said at some point-”

Huey let out a tiny, adorable little squeal that Goldie refused to find endearing.

“Alright, I’ve changed my mind!” Huey announced, grabbing his pen and notepad again. “I’m completely fine to call you Aunt Goldie!”

“Wait, what?” Goldie stared at him, feeling very confused like she’d missed a whole big part of their conversation. “You know we’re still not getting married, right?”

“Well, Aunt Goldie,” Huey said with a smirk. “I now know that you’re mutually in love and probably have been for a very long time, so whether you want to be or not, that means you’re part of the family!”

She sighed and lightly scratched her neck.

“Do you have any other family?”

Goldie looked surprised at the sudden question, not expecting this child to suddenly change conversation topics like his brother. “...no, I don’t.”

“Oh,” Huey responded, looking a little sad. “Did they...I mean, you’re as old as Uncle Scrooge, right? So they’re...uh…”

“Dead, yeah,” Goldie said with a shrug.

“I’m sorry!” Huey looked down at his hands. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

She watched him look like he was about to go into some shame spiral and Goldie quickly reached out a hand and plopped it on his head. “Don’t worry about it, it was a long time ago. And we were never close to begin with,” she added with another shrug.

Huey glanced back up at her, blushing a bit from the unexpected physical affection. “Does that mean you never introduced them to Uncle Scrooge?”

Goldie couldn’t stop herself and let out a short laugh, moving her hand from Huey’s head to cover her beak. “Sorry, sorry,” she mumbled as she collected herself. “No, God no, absolutely not.”

He moved his hat back to the position he preferred it in. “Have you met Uncle Scrooge’s parents?”

“Ah...sort of-” Goldie started, but suddenly she froze. She thought about his line of questioning for a second before turning to glare at Huey completely. “What are you writing?”

Huey looked up from his notebook and let out a small chirp as he noticed Goldie’s expression. “Um...I’m just taking notes…”

“Taking notes about what?” Goldie asked as she reached out and grabbed the notebook away from him. Huey struggled to grab it back but Goldie held him down with her other hand.

She scanned over the open page and saw that he’d written notes on all the information she’d given him (about herself, about her and Scrooge’s relationship) and her tone of voice and expression when talking about them. She flipped to another page to see similar notes and rolled her eyes before throwing the notepad back at Huey.

Huey caught it and did his best to avoid her gaze.

“Should I even ask?”

He shoved the notepad and pen under his hat again and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Goldie pinched the bridge of her beak. “I’m not upset, I’m just confused. Did Scrooge tell you to come talk to me?”

“Huh?” Huey mirrored her confusion. “No, of course not! It was nothing like that!”

“Then…?”

He sighed awkwardly. “Dewey said he got an interview with you and I didn’t believe him and then we got into an argument about it and he said he had the best interviewing skills in the family, but I’m the one with the Interviewing Badge which I’ve had for several years so I wanted to...prove him wrong, I guess.” Huey covered his eyes with his hands and sighed. “Ugh, this is so stupid. I’m really sorry.”

Goldie raised an eyebrow and reached over to tug his hands away from his eyes. “Kid, it’s fine. I can always understand the urge to prove you’re better than someone else,” she said with a smirk.

Huey looked at her for a few moments before smiling. “So it’s okay if I show this to Dewey?”

She glanced at his hat and then back down at his eyes, which were sparkling and genuine and he was just a very cute kid and Goldie hated how that seemed to be something that affected her these days. She held back a sigh and let go of his arms. “Yeah, it’s fine. It’s not like I said anything that’s a secret.”

“Thank you, Aunt Goldie!” Huey said happily right before he jumped forward and wrapped his arms around her neck.

Goldie let out a surprised OOF! and didn’t hug back, just stared off towards the wall on the other side of the room.

Huey moved back away from her and kept smiling. “Louie’s right, you’re a lot nicer than Uncle Scrooge says you are!” he said as he hopped off the couch. “Thanks for talking to me! I hope you didn’t miss anything important on your show.”

“...nothing important ever happens on this show,” Goldie mumbled as Huey waddled away - probably towards the boys’ shared bedroom. She frowned and tried to will away the blush on her cheeks from the light physical affection. It was disturbing to her how much a little hand-hold or a hug made her feel like she had butterflies in her stomach. It was more than disturbing! She was practically going soft.

She sighed and thought about what Huey said before he left. Maybe she needed to have a chat with Sharpie.

[hardyimagines]

Rumors

Drabble. little bit of angst + little bit of fluff

Warnings: mild physical aggression

The icy floorboards welcomed your barefeet as you quietly traipsed across the dust-ridden wooden floor. The ground was warmer than the surrounding room, tense and silent. The fight that had taken place earlier seemed to still linger in the room. The yells echoed throughout your head despite the fact that the only sound taking place was the crackling from the dancing flame in the fireplace as it ate the coals and log tucked away inside the spot.

Alfie was seated on the sofa. He had a blanket draped across his lap, lopsided and crumpled as he laid his forearms on his thighs, fingers pinched around an old novel he’d found a few days ago. The blue-eyed man was pretending to read the words but no matter how many times he tried to absorb the information in front of him, he couldn’t comprehend anything he was reading. He could hear you tiptoeing through the room and toward the kitchen. He knew you were trying to avoid another altercation. The one that had happened earlier hadn’t ended on good terms. His eyes slid to the clock in the corner, it was past midnight, too late for another disagreement anyway. He eyed the oversized necessity as the minute hand ticked by quietly. His observation didn’t last long before he looked back down at his book, fingers lifting to pinch the frame of his glasses so he could adjust them. He kept a close eye on you, peripheral vision trusty and reliable. He caught a final glimpse of you, vanishing through the doorway and into the kitchen.

You just wanted a hot cup of tea. You needed something to relax you, to help lull you to sleep. It was hard when you were left on your own, Alfieless. When the pair of you fought, you were both stubborn, equally refusing to apologize for what had taken place. Sometimes the tension wore away and you went about it as if nothing had happened. Other times, he’d strike up a conversation and apologize without ever having to say those simple words. ‘I’m sorry.’ It was like a weighted phrase to him. You were no better though, just as refusing to say them.

You let a soft sigh fall past your lips as you drew a small mug out of the cabinet and set it on the clean counter. Your fingertips brushed along the handle as you did your best to push the memory of earlier to the farthest corner of your mind. It didn’t work. It was front and center.

Your shoulders were still sore from where he’d unexpectedly pressed you against the nearby wall. It had been a bit rough, too sudden for you to have been able to prepare yourself.

Earlier that day

A sharp gasp fell from your parted lips. The muscles in your back and the bones of your shoulders tightened as you were slammed up against the wall leading to the kitchen. Alfie’s eyes were wild, absent, you didn’t recognize him at all as he held you in place. His grip on your arms was tight, fingers sinking into the warm flesh of your tender skin as he peered down at you.

“What the hell is your problem?” He spat. It was evident your moaning and sighing and need to avoid him throughout the day had finally gotten on his last nerve.

“You.” You shoved at him, an attempt to free yourself from his strong grasp, but he tightened his grip and pushed you back more firmly.

“Me?” He almost laughed. His tone dropped with disbelief. He was the only one of the two of you who had a right to be upset.

“You’ve been rude all day.” You struggled pointlessly in his strong grasp. The curls that hadn’t been long enough to stay tucked away in your tied hair fell in front of your eyes, tickling your cheeks. The strands lifted with your soft breaths. Confidence and bravery shown in those big eyes of yours, but he saw the fear that tagged alongside, cowering behind the seemingly stronger display of emotions. Telling him how you felt could go one of two ways. He’d be understanding and hear you out about why you were so bothered or he’d lash out.

He cocked a brow. He had a lot on his mind, a lot of things had been said to him today. He hadn’t revealed any of that to you yet though. “Right and when was this, pet. You’re the one who’s been stomping around, sighing and moaning and complaining, yeah. I haven’t fucking done anything.” His eyes narrowed, the impatience that radiated off of him seemed to gather in his fingertips, forcing him to press on your arms just a little rougher, trying to pull the words from your throat quicker.

Your jaw clenched, pink lips pressing against each other before a heavy scoff fell from your lips. You winced in the slightest beneath his touch, head tilting back so your chin was turned up at him. “You’ve been rude to me all day long and the second that I return the favor, I’m the bad guy.” With all the strength you could muster, your palms pressed against the front of his chest and you shoved him back as hard as you could. He moved maybe a couple of inches, hands falling from their place on your arms. You dipped around him and made movement to head for the sofa. Leaving wasn’t exactly an option, storming out of the house to aimlessly wonder around. You had nowhere else to stay so fighting with the man you were dating seemed to be the only thing there was to do. “So, maybe you want to be a big boy,” You squinted. “And tell me why you’re acting like such an ass.”

Alfie did chuckle this time. A low, husky sound fell from his lips as he lifted his hand to his chin and pulled lazily at the curls that stuck out of his skin. “Alright.” He barked. He was saving his questions until the end of the night when the two of you were tucked away in bed, but you could feel that something wasn’t right, and he clearly wasn’t being his usual loving self so the talk was going to have to happen now. The boots he wore everyday were dirtier than usual, louder than usual too as he stomped across the room, a trail of dirt following him. He settled in the center of the rug parallel to you. The only thing between your bodies was the dirty coffee table, stained with spilled coffee and food crumbs that he could never seem to clean up. “The lads have shared some.. rather fucking infuriating information, yeah, bit agitating really.” He wasn’t angry just yet, more frustrated than anything. He hadn’t said what needed to be said, but once he did you’d know just how far his anger went.

“Go on.” Your tone was sharp, slightly bored as you leaned back against the cushions, one leg lifting to drape across the other. You laid your hands in your lap, soft eyes moving along his features as you waited for him to spit out some poor excuse that wouldn’t help him out of the situation he’d thrown himself into.

“You’ve apparently been sneaking around with Charlie.” His brows lifted, scruffy facial hair above his lip rubbing against the hair that gathered on his chin as he pulled his lips in. “So ive been told by a few of the fucking lads, right.” His blue eyes seemed much darker beneath the glow of the fire in the corner. As if his emotions could change the color of his orbs. You straightened on the sofa. He could tell you were getting ready to speak. “I’ll let you explain yourself, won’t I, yeah, because I am the type of man to give my girl a chance to defend herself, right, so.” His arms folded over his chest, arms flexing beneath the thin material of his white shirt. “Are you fucking sneaking around?” Alfie growled.

The air in your lungs vanished. A sharp pain formed in your chest, a stinging, agitating feeling that picked and poked at you. “Leave it to you, Alfie, to accuse me of cheating based on what your trusty lads tell you.” Huffing, you pushed yourself up from the sofa. “You’re pathetic. If you honestly believe that I’d ever even think about someone else let alone mess around..” Your tone was growing sharper. Your voice was growing louder. Alfie unfolded his arms, hands pressing against his hips as he stared at you.

“Didn’t say that, now did I, I repeated, right, what they fucking said and am now generously giving you the fucking opportunity to explain yourself.” He suddenly bellowed.

Exasperated, you lifted your hands to your face and rubbed it down. “By asking me for an explanation, you’re siding with them!” Was he really this stupid! You stepped forward, knees grazing the coffee table. “I’m not going to recite the entirety of every conversation I’ve ever had with Charlie. You either trust me, as you’re meant to, or you believe those absolute children!” You almost shrieked. The amount of discomfort in your stomach made you curl your hands in the sides of the fabric, your bottom lip beginning to tremble.

Alfie was in the midst of moistening his lips so he could bite back a response but right when he was conjuring up something smart to spit in your direction, he was pulled back to earlier that day. Reliving the oh so lovely news. The new assistant, Ronald.. his brows furrowed. Maybe it was Donald. He squinted. He couldn’t remember the bloke’s name. He could, however, remember the way that multiple lads poured into the room, all of them joining in with the newbie’s words to rat you out. You were cheating, according to all of them. Alfie had been flustered in his office when the group started to explain what they saw.

Charlie was younger, closer to your age. He was brunette with big, brown eyes that seemed like the color of honey beneath the bright sun’s rays. He was a trusted employee. Not anymore. Today, he would be fired.

Alfie, at first, was settled in his office chair with his legs spread wide and his features calm. He absentmindedly twisted the chain attached to the frame of his glasses, ears straining to hear each of the lads as they told him about when, where, and what you had done with the boy. He could hear the quakes in their voices as they tried their best to maintain their confidence. Revealing something so private to someone who was the least bit understanding was, quite frankly, terrifying.

The low drumming of the rain outside hit the window. It was a soft patter, reeling your attention to it as Alfie stood, faraway. You hoped his memory was treating him well, reminding him of exactly what was said so he could pick at the spewed lies. You weren’t worried. What proof did anybody have? You knew. Nothing. You were faithful, honest, in love with the brute stood on the other side of the table. Part of you felt sick that he would trust someone else’s word over your own, but if you had a group of people swarming you with a confession — a secret, that Alfie had been messing around with another girl.. it would be hard to brush off. You stepped to the side, ready to remove yourself from your trapped position between the table and sofa. Alfie mirrored your footsteps, pulled from his thoughts. Your eyes darted to him and the suddeness of his actions, no longer interested in the raindrop trails that stained the glass in the corner of the room. Alfie’s breaths were slow, he was ready to explain. He took to long to speak. So you did.

“When you’re ready to apologize,” Your tone was no kinder than a few seconds ago, especially not now as he stepped closer. He was intimidating and tall and you didn’t appreciate the way he closed in on you. He cut you off.

“Me? Pet, I ain’t the one behaving like a whore, am I?” He placed his hands on his hips, eyeing you intently. Your every movement was scrutinized, as if you’d fidget or tremble or do something to give away that you were lying.

You stiffened. Was he being serious? Scoffing in disbelief, you lifted your hand and jabbed your palm into the middle of his chest, jaw clenching as you halted him from coming any closer. “What did you just say?” The man looked like a stranger in that moment. Never, in all the time that the two of you had been together, had he ever called you anything similar to what he’d just had the nerve to call you.

“Do you have another name for it?” The man uttered.

“Oh my god. You’re unbelievable!” Your insides churned with disgust. Who was he? You didn’t recognize him in this moment.

“Right, Y/n, I think that’d be you, yeah, seeing as you’re the unfaithful one. Can’t seem to keep your fucking legs closed. You’ve got no right no be upset, lass. You’ve been caught, is that it?” Truth be told, he couldn’t imagine you messing around behind his back. When the two of you had finally got together, it had taken quite a while. He made advances toward you and you did your best to brush them off. It had taken him months to get you to agree to go out with him, you were only hesitant because he was your boss, but the second you caved.. the dates had gone beyond good and your relationship had blossomed into something unbelievable. He couldn’t seem to figure out why four boys would tell him you were screwing one of his employees though if it weren’t true. What was in it for them?

A surge of anger shot through you like a shot of adrenaline. Without any control over yourself, your hand lifted and swung in his direction. You waited for the impact of your palm colliding with his face, but his reflexes were faster than you had initially expected. His hand was tight around your wrist and without any effort at all, he pushed you back so your body fell against the couch. He covered you, like a blanket did on most nights. His hand settled beside your head, eyes glistening with so much anger and betrayal as he stared down at you. You thrashed, hitting at his chest and bucking at him to get off of you.

Cyril stood in the corner. He had been laying down, listening to the pair of you, but when Alfie pushed you down on the couch and you were frantic to get free, he started to bark. His bark was loud, low, a heavy sound that made most people take a few steps back.

“Quiet!” Alfie shouted to the dog, doing his best to keep you still. He wasn’t trying to hurt you, but he wasn’t your punching bag.

“I hate you.” You told him breathily. “I hate you so much.” Your hits were harder, your legs kicked feverishly. He could see your eyes, brewing with salty tears as you did your absolute best to escape his strong grip. “Get off of me, Alfie!”

“Why, so you can try and hit me again?” The room was hot and your throat was tight as he continued to spew venomous and hurtful things in your direction. He’d only ever made you cry, one other time, and it had been when you were tired and sick and wanted him to come home and hold you. He’d insisted he had to work, but the second those tears raced along your warm cheeks, he couldn’t deny you. He’d ended up coming home with you.

“Alfie, please.” Your voice broke. You grew still beneath him, slumped. Your head rolled to the side and your chest lifted with your slow, quiet breaths. “If you really think I’d cheat, then I should go.”

Alfie clenched his jaw. “I want an explanation.”

“I shouldn’t have to explain myself to you, Alfie.” To anyone walking by the small house and peering through the windows that lined the front, the pair of you were probably a sight, Alfie straddling your hips as you slumped beneath him. “If you really think,” Your head rolled forward so you could see him clearly. “I would mess around with someone else then why are you even asking. You should’ve left.”

Alfie exhaled heavily. “I don’t want to believe it. I’m waiting for you to..” He shrugged in the slightest. He’d never been in this position before.

“For me to what, Alfie? Assure you. That’s not my place. If someone is spreading lies about me — that you assume are lies, you should get to the root of them. Did you even ask Charlie?” Sitting up in the best you could, you took this rare, vulnerable moment and pushed him back and off of you. He helped, falling back and landing on the cushions. He eyed you uncertainly, big blue eyes falling to his lap.

“Why would four boys come to me and tell me you was fucking messing around with Charlie, right, if that weren’t the case?” He sighed heavily, hands lifting to cover his face. He rubbed it down tiredly, unsure of what to believe.

“I don’t know Alfie. Why would four boys come to their big, scary boss and tell him something that they think would make him trust them. They’re trying to gain respect by doing right by you. But they’re young, stupid, and they’re doing it the wrong way.” Shaking your head, you stood from the sofa. “And you’re an idiot for even bringing this home. You know, as well as I do, that..” You couldnt finish the sentence. Alfie was all you wanted, all you’d ever want, and he was accusing you of being unfaithful. Your heart hurt. “Think long and hard about what you’re going to say next because if it’s not ‘I’m sorry’ you can save it and I’ll leave on my own accord.” You stepped around the coffee table and slowly left the room. You needed time alone.

12:30 A.M.

The small house smelt strongly of tea. The scent was warm, inviting. It made Alfie’s stomach growl and his mouth water. He was tempted to ask if you’d made enough for two glasses or if there was only enough for you. He didn’t mind making his own, he was just curious if you’d had extra. The man had closed the book a few minutes ago, it was laid face down on his thighs as he slumped against the arm of the sofa. Cyril had quietly followed you into the kitchen long ago, curious to know what you were doing and if you’d give him anything. Alfie inhaled deeply. The fight could only last for so long. He hadn’t said a single word to you since earlier, your last words being that he needed to apologize and that wasn’t easy for him. You knew that, it was exactly why you’d said it.

You were seated at the dining room table. Your feet lazily hung, skimming the tile of the cold floor beneath you as you took your time to sip the hot beverage. You’d built up a tolerance over the years, it wasn’t so hard to drink the drink without wincing. You were impatient, always trying to sip at the scalding liquid before the steam had had a chance to stop lifting from the top. The mug was set on the table, you lazily rotating it as you ran through your endless thoughts. You waited for Alfie, hopeful that he would at least mumble out some pathetic form of an apology. You set your elbow on the table and your cheek in your hand as your droopy eyes fluttered. They were heavy, desperate to close, but the second that you did, you’d be restless.

Neither of you moved for what felt like forever. You’d drift for a few moments, listening to the soft tap of Cyril’s nails against the floor or the clank when you’d lift your mug and set it back down. It was only when the heavy sound of alfies boots filled the room that you looked over your shoulder and toward the door.

He was stood tall, wide. His arms were folded as per usual. He was stern, quiet. The man stepped into the room without so much as a glance in your direction. His footsteps were loud, thumping against the floor as he moved through the room and over to the cabinet. He was going to make his own tea. You watched him closely, taking advantage of the fact that his back was toward you. He couldn’t call you out for staring. You shifted. Why were you anyway? He’d hurt your feelings — more than he probably knew. Directing your stare back to the tea instead, you pursed your lips. You were not going to speak first. You were not going to offer him your drink because you were too sleepy to finish it. You were not going to ask him if he was coming to bed or bring up the topic from earlier. But you didn’t have to.

“Pet.” His voice was low. It was almost inaudible, even in the silent room. Your lashes tickled your eyelids as you lifted your gaze to the man. “Are you awake enough to talk?” The huskiness of his voice soothes you. You wanted to go to sleep so badly, but you couldn’t, not without him. Nodding softly, you let out a soft hum before shuffling in the slightest on the chair. Watching him as he moved from the cabinets to the sink to the stove, your pink lips parted.

“I don’t want to argue though, Alfie. It’s.. I’m so tired.” You confessed.

The man looked in your direction. He was quiet as he observed you. His big, curious eyes slid along your sleepy expression, watching the way you tried to hold your head up by your cheek, steadying it with your palm. Your shoulders were slumped and your body looked heavy. But he knew, just like you did, sleep wouldn’t come so easily.

“I don’t have it in me to shout, yeah? Let’s go in the living room. It’s much warmer.” Lifting his cup of tea, he moved over to the table and lifted yours as well. You stood from the creaky chair, stepping in front of him so the two of you could move into the living room to settle on the sofa in front of the fire. You dropped down first, lifting his book out of the way so you didn’t crush it. Laying it on the coffee table, you waited for him to join you before you lifted the blanket he’d been using and pulled it to yourself. It smelt like him. It was very comforting. The man set the mugs on the table beside the book before looking in your direction.

“Right.. so.” He was quiet, pondering what he should say first. You knew an apology wouldn’t be instant. “I’m sorry for how I acted today.” Your eyes widened at the words. Eyeing him under an inquisitive stare, you drew the blanket up to your chin and eyed him closely. “Shouldn’t have fucking manhandled you and pushed you on the sofa or pinned you to the wall, yeah, that wasn’t fucking fair for me to do, was it?” You were quiet, patient. Surely that wasn’t all he wanted to apologize for. “I’m sorry for accusing you of cheating as well, right, but it is a bit fucking difficult, yeah, to be told something by the lads and then to just ignore it.”

“I didn’t ask you to ignore it, Alfie.” You whispered. “But you could’ve informed me about what was being said, you could’ve asked me about It instead of pinning me to the wall and shouting at me and calling me names.” Your voice was still soft, no anger in your tone now. You wanted to resolve this. “Tell me the Truth..”

“No.” He answer your question before you could ask it. “I didn’t believe them, alright. But put yourself in my shoes, yeah, for a second, right, if multiple people came to you and said they fucking saw me with another woman, what would you do?” His blue eyes slid between yours, searching for the answer. He already knew. You’d lash out like he had.

“Kill her.” You stated nonchalantly. “And then you.” The amusement in your gaze carried over to his as you shuffled. “I understand completely that you had to have had doubts, but Alfie, you shouldn’t have been as rude to me as you were. If I cheated, which I didn’t, then yes, you should’ve been a cunt. But I’ve said maybe a word to Charlie..” Alfie’s eyes shot to you. He didn’t even want to talk about this anymore. He knew you hadn’t done anything with the boy. He just wanted to kiss and make up and then fire the lads who’d lied about you.

Alfie shifted on the sofa before draping his arm across the length of the back. You, without much hesitation, shifted so that your body filled the gap between his side and your own. Crawling along the furniture until your body was pressed firmly against his own, you opened the blanket and draped it over his body before laying your head on his chest. “I’m sorry, pet.” He murmured, fingertips brushing through your soft strands of hair.

“You’re all I want.” You promised him tiredly, arm hooking around his front securely. Drawing him into you, you let your eyes flutter shut.

Alfie was quiet for a few moments, his touch brushing from your hair to roam the length of your arm. He was gentle, his touch was caring. He never wanted to be in a position like this again. It was the most he’d ever felt scared. He’d thought he was going to lose you. “I love you.” He whispered, warm lips meeting the skin of your forehead. He had to lean forward to achieve the soft kiss and after he had, he saw your face. Your eyes were closed and your lips were parted. You were fast asleep against his chest. Your faint breaths tickled the skin of his chest where his shirt was unbuttoned and your hand was curled loosely in the fabric of his shirt, legs curled inward to rest on his lap and body growing heavier and heavier against his the deeper you fell into oblivion. He didn’t blame you. It was late and the second the pair of you had made up, your body let itself give out, thankful for the reassurance.

Alfie moved his attention to the fire before smiling lazily. Reaching for his glasses, his book, and his tea, he left his arm draped around your small body, embracing you as he resumed his reading. He was tired too, but he wanted to savor this moment for a while before it was time to carry you off to bed with him.

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[phroyd]

One of our Great Comedians leaves us this day! Rest In Peace, Jackie! - Phroyd

Jackie Mason, whose staccato, arm-waving delivery and thick Yiddish accent kept the borscht belt style of comedy alive long after the Catskills resorts had shut their doors, and whose career reached new heights in the 1980s with a series of one-man shows on Broadway, died on Saturday in Manhattan. He was 93.His death, at Mount Sinai Hospital, was confirmed by the lawyer Raoul Felder, a longtime friend.Mr. Mason regarded the world around him as a nonstop assault on common sense and an affront to his sense of dignity. Gesturing frantically, his forefinger jabbing the air, he would invite the audience to share his sense of disbelief and inhabit his very thin skin, if only for an hour.“I used to be so self-conscious,” he once said, “that when I attended a football game, every time the players went into a huddle, I thought they were talking about me.” Recalling his early struggles as a comic, he said, “I had to sell furniture to make a living — my own.”The idea of music in elevators sent him into a tirade: “I live on the first floor; how much music can I hear by the time I get there? The guy on the 28th floor, let him pay for it.”

The humor was punchy, down-to-earth and emphatically Jewish: His last one-man show in New York, in 2008, was titled “The Ultimate Jew.” A former rabbi from a long line of rabbis, Mr. Mason made comic capital as a Jew feeling his way — sometimes nervously, sometimes pugnaciously — through a perplexing gentile world.“Every time I see a contradiction or hypocrisy in somebody’s behavior,” he once told The Wall Street Journal, “I think of the Talmud and build the joke from there.” Describing his comic style to The New York Times in 1988, he said, “My humor — it’s a man in a conversation, pointing things out to you.”“He’s not better than you, he’s just another guy,” he added. “I see life with love — I’m your brother up there — but if I see you make a fool out of yourself, I owe it to you to point that out to you.”He was born Yacov Moshe Maza in Sheboygan, Wis., on June 9, 1928, to immigrants from Belarus. (Some sources give the year as 1931.) When he was 5, his father, Eli, an Orthodox rabbi, and his mother, Bella (Gitlin) Maza, moved the family to the Lower East Side of Manhattan, where Yacov discovered that his path in life had already been determined. Not only his father, but his grandfather, great-grandfather and great-great-grandfathers had all been rabbis. His three older brothers became rabbis, and his two younger sisters married rabbis. “It was unheard-of to think of anything else,” Mr. Mason said. “But I knew, from the time I’m 12, I had to plot to get out of this, because this is not my calling.”

After earning a degree from City College, he completed his rabbinical studies at Yeshiva University and was ordained. In a state of mounting misery, he tended to congregations in Weldon, N.C., and Latrobe, Pa., unhappy in his profession but unwilling to disappoint his father.Hedging his bets, he had begun working summers in the Catskills, where he wrote comic monologues and appeared onstage at every opportunity. This, he decided, was his true calling, and after his father’s death in 1959 he felt free to pursue it in earnest, with a new name.He struggled at first, playing the Catskills and, with little success, obscure clubs in New York and Miami. Plagued by guilt, he underwent psychoanalysis, which did not solve his problems but did provide him with good comic material.Nevertheless, he found it hard to break into the nightclub circuit in New York — in part, he claimed, because his act made Jewish audiences uncomfortable. “My accent reminds them of a background they’re trying to forget,” he said.

While performing at a Los Angeles nightclub in 1960, he caught the attention of his fellow comedian Jan Murray, who recommended him to the television personality Steve Allen. Two appearances in two weeks on “The Steve Allen Show” led to bookings at the Copacabana and the Blue Angel in New York.Mr. Mason’s career was off and running. He became a regular on the top television variety shows, recorded two albums for the Verve label — “I Am the Greatest Comedian in the World Only Nobody Knows It Yet” and “I Want to Leave You With the Words of a Great Comedian” — and wrote a book, “My Son the Candidate.”

After dozens of appearances on “The Ed Sullivan Show,” Mr. Mason encountered disaster on Oct. 18, 1964. A speech by President Lyndon B. Johnson pre-empted the program, which resumed as Mr. Mason was halfway through his act. Onstage but out of camera range, Sullivan indicated with two fingers, then one, how many minutes Mr. Mason had left, distracting the audience. Mr. Mason, annoyed, responded by holding up his own fingers to the audience, saying, “Here’s a finger for you, and a finger for you, and a finger for you.”Sullivan, convinced that one of those fingers was an obscene gesture, canceled Mr. Mason’s six-show contract and refused to pay him for the performance. Mr. Mason sued, and won.The two later reconciled, but the damage was done. Club owners and booking agents now regarded him, he said, as “crude and unpredictable.”

“People started to think I was some kind of sick maniac,” Mr. Mason told Look. “It took 20 years to overcome what happened in that one minute.”His career went into a slump, punctuated by bizarre instances of bad luck. In Las Vegas in 1966, after he made a few ill-considered remarks about Frank Sinatra’s recent marriage to the much younger Mia Farrow (“Frank soaks his dentures and Mia brushes her braces,” one joke went), an unidentified gunman fired a .22 pistol into his hotel room.A play he starred in and wrote (with Mike Mortman), “A Teaspoon Every Four Hours,” went through a record-breaking 97 preview performances on Broadway before opening on June 14, 1969, to terrible reviews. It closed after one night, taking with it his $100,000 investment.He also invested in “The Stoolie” (1972), a film in which he played a con man and improbable Romeo. It also failed, taking even more of his money. Roles in sitcoms and films eluded him, although he did make the most of small parts in Mel Brooks’s “History of the World: Part I” (1981) — he was “Jew No. 1” in the Spanish Inquisition sequence — and “The Jerk” (1979), in which he played the gas-station owner who employs Steve Martin.Rebuffed, Mr. Mason set about rebuilding his career with guest appearances on television. His new manager, Jyll Rosenfeld, convinced that the old borscht belt comics were ripe for a comeback, encouraged him to bring his act to the theater as a one-man show.

After attracting celebrity audiences in Los Angeles, that show, “The World According to Me!,” opened on Broadway in December 1986 and ran for two years. It earned Mr. Mason a special Tony Award in 1987, as well as an Emmy for writing after HBO aired an abridged version in 1988.

“I didn’t think it would work,” Mr. Mason said. “But people, when they come into a theater, see you in a whole new light. It’s like taking a picture from a kitchen and hanging it in a museum.”In 1991 Mr. Mason married Ms. Rosenfeld, who survives him. He is also survived by a daughter, the comedian Sheba Mason, from a relationship with Ginger Reiter in the 1970s and ’80s.“The World According to Me!” generated a series of sequels — “Politically Incorrect,” “Love Thy Neighbor,” “Prune Danish” and others — which carried Mr. Mason through the 1990s and into the new millennium.He published an autobiography, “Jackie, Oy!” (written with Ken Gross), in 1988. He also found a new sideline as an opinionated political commentator on talk radio. In the 2016 presidential campaign, he was one of the few well-known entertainers to support Donald J. Trump.Mr. Mason’s forays into political commentary caused him trouble. He was reported to have used a Yiddish word considered to be a racial slur in talking about David N. Dinkins, the Black mayoral candidate, at a Plaza Hotel luncheon in 1989. Mr. Mason was a campaigner for Mr. Dinkins’s opponent, Rudolph W. Giuliani. Mr. Giuliani said the incident had been blown out of proportion but nevertheless dismissed Mr. Mason from the campaign. Mr. Mason at first refused to apologize but did so later.

He drew attention for using the same word regarding President Barack Obama during a performance in 2009.Appearances on the cartoon series “The Simpsons,” as the voice of Rabbi Hyman Krustofski, the father of Krusty the Clown, confirmed his newfound status, and earned him a second Emmy. Not even the 1988 bomb “Caddyshack II,” in which he was a last-minute replacement for Rodney Dangerfield, or the ill-fated “Chicken Soup,” a 1989 sitcom co-starring Lynn Redgrave that died quickly, could slow his improbable transformation from borscht belt relic into hot property.“I’ve been doing this for a hundred thousand years, but it’s like I was born last Thursday,” Mr. Mason once said of his career turnaround. “They see me as today’s comedian. Thank God I stunk for such a long time and was invisible, so I could be discovered.”

Michael Levenson contributed reporting.

Phroyd

[popculturebuffet]

The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck: The Last of the Clan McDuck!  Review “It Was Worth THE Dime”

This is one of my faviorite comic book stories of all time. Given i’m a massive comics nerd, for both books and strips, that is the highest praise I can give this wonderful, epic, beautifully drawn and deeply emotoinal story. I first discovered it in the local library that had the second volume, and found the rest online at a now long dead fan site. And while it took me longer than I care to admit to really dig into Duck Comics, and even now i’ve only scratched the surface, I can say without a doubt this story is the reason I’m so deeply attached to Scrooge as a character, and that I was excited as  I was for Ducktales 2017. This comic showed me just what Scrooge McDuck should be at his core as a character, and showed me what a wonderful character that is. So with all that glowing praise as you can guess i’ve been wanting to cover this for years, and even considered though back when I was more primarily a comic book reviewer last year. Any time i’ve reviewed stuff before now, i’ve considered it, and with Scrooge’s Sisters Hortense and Matilda presumably and definitely debuting on Ducktales soon, and it’s about damn time, the timing could not be better or clearer to dig into this utter triumph.  But before we can take a look at the story itself we naturally have to take a look at the man behind it: Writer and Artist Don Rosa. Don Rosa is easily one of the best Duck Comics writer out there, seen by many as only second to his own faviorite duck comics writer and God of Ducks, Carl Barks. For those 1 of you who do not know, Barks was the man who created pretty much everything in the duck universe comics wise and a bit in animation too: He created Daisy, Scrooge, Gladstone, Magica, The Beagle Boys, The Junior Woodchucks, Gyro, Little Bulb, Glomgold, Rockerduck, and the list goes on. While he didn’t make EVERY duck, he made so many that it’d be impossible to imagine either version of Ducktales being possible without him.  So of course Rosa was a fan and while he took up the family buisness, he was also an artist and duck comics fanboy on the side. So when, even if it meant a paycut, the opportunity to actually write and draw them came up, he lept at it and thus became one of their publishers go to guys, even if said publisher published the stories overseas where the Duck Comics are far more popular and still going to this day, and ironically where most duck comics printed nowadays get their stories from. Rosa was known for his meticous historical research and gorgeous art that he took his time drawing to get just perfect and showed on the page. The man has easily some of hte best and most detailed duck art around and I still haven’t found a duck artist that can match him.. and if you have or found one close i’d genuinely love to see that. He is a genuinely talented, spirited guy who was sadly mistreated by disney and that, coupled with tragically failing eyesight, eventually ended his career. He’s still around and I genuinely hope to meet him some day as he still does conventions.  The man is not without fault: I don’t get his hatred of superhero comics, as while I get them overshadowing funnybooks and that around the time of his career they were in decline, but it’s just as unfair to write off Superhero comics as mindless.  garbage as it is for people to write off the Duck Comics as “only for kids” and I genuinely wish he’d see that and see how the medium has evolved so much since then. I also grumble a bit as his refusal to allow anything besides barks into his bubble, and having to be forced to include fethry on the family tree, but that’s more personal preference. I like using as much material as you got. IT’s why i’ve wanted to, and hopefully will eventually get around to, write a sonic fanfic using bits of all the various universes that for legal, ken penders being an absolute waste of a human being, and sega being stupid reasons can’t be used anymore. I like taking everything in a franchise and putting it in a blender and it’s why I love the reboot. But there’s nothing wrong with taking things as is, not stepping on toes canon wise, but still being awesome. We’re just diffrent people and that’s okay.  And a lot of his fanboy showing actually lead to REALLY good things: Goldie O’Gilt was a one off character, and while used ocasoinally overseas, didn’t really pick up as a character again until a combination of Ducktales 87 and Rosa’s work with her, as he always loved the character, and fleshing her out lead to her being used more, and gaining a sizeable fandom. He also gained the Cablleros an even bigger fandom by giving them two stories of their own, and fleshing them out a bit more.  And this very comic is the peak of that, taking EVERY mention of scrooge’s past from various backstories to set up adventures, every tiny scrap, and to his credit going to both Barks Himself and various other Barks Experts Rosa was friends with to check his work, especially difficult given he likey had to find these stories in issue or pullt hem from disney archives, and complied it into one long epic that not only uses all this info effortlessly, but spins a compelling story that gives us a clear vision of what Scrooge should be, how he became the man he is, and how he lost himself only to find himself again with the help of three precocious boys and a cynical 30 something duck. So taint all bad is what i’m saying.  As for how this got started, thankfully rosa himself provided the origin story for this project in the back of the volume of his works that contained the first 7 chapters of life and times, as well as detailed notes for every chapter. At the time Rosa was working for Egmont, the big european publisher who handles Disney’s much larger european comics market, hence why most of his stories appeared years earlier in Europe before debuting here. The american publisher at the time , and an old friend of his, called Rosa with an idea: A 12 issue Maxi-Series focusing on Scrooge’s history, since at the time they were all the rage.. and really even today mini series are still a viable market and many indie titles just have several minis instead of an ongoing. So it wasn’t a bad idea, Rosa just simply offered a tweak: He’d tell his publisher at Egmont about the idea, and let her get a crack team of writers and artists to do this proper, and thus Disney could publish it for free once it was done and for no extra cost. Rosa gave his publisher a fax detaling both the idea and the fact that it needed to be done right, given to the best person possible, and done with the greatest care. She agreed.. and naturally handed it to him, as he admits he hoped. She made the right call, a legend was born and here we are.  One last bit before the read more and before I get to the first story itself at last: Since barks wrote a lot of side stories that fit into the canon, I COULD slot them in between chapters, but have instead chosen to review the original 12 part story as was, and do the various side stories and two epilogues, the utterly fantastic “Dream of a Life Time”, easiliy one of my faviorite comics ever, and the also really great “Letter From Home”, which will likely on some level be the basis for the upcoming at the time of this review “Battle for Castle McDuck!”, after completing the story. In other words i’m probably going to be at this for years. so join me under the read more won’t you as I begin the journey of a thousand miles with a single step as we look at the humble start of a legend. 

We begin, after a fun short teaser with present Day scrooge saying his past is no one’s buisness only to get hit with an oh yeah?,  with a scrap book title for the issue, something I want to bring up since while I got that’s what it was what I never got, and  must’ve glanced over when I first read rosa’s notes when I got this copy, was that it isn’t SCROOGE’S scrap book, but his sister Matilda’s who dutifully and happily catologued her brother’s adventures. It’s a really sweet moment.. and something that will hit VERY hard when we reach Chapter 11. If you haven’t read this story or heard of it.. .that’s this story’s equilvent of “Last Crash of the Sunchaser” and clearly Frank and Matt drew from that story a bit for it, but we can get more into the parallels when we get there. A smaller but fun note is that Rosa had specific coin drawing templates, for different indentions and what not he used, and used them for the coins in these intro bits. Yes he admitted he has a problem and yes that’s damn impressive anyway. 

It’s Scrooge’s 10th birthday, and his father Fergus has taken him up to see the family land, Dismal Downs to tell him of the mighty Clan McDuck and show him the ancestral lands, graveyards and Castle. He admits to having taken this long because the Clan McDuck currently lives in Glasgow so it’s kind of a long trip just to show your son “Hey look at the decay and rot that’s our ancestral homeland”. The Clan is on hard times, as a bad shipping deal, the backbone of a rather good barks story and I wont’ be interjecting for every barks reference as it’d get rather tiring though for what it’s worth Rosa provided tons of detailed footnotes in the back of each Fantagraphics collection, so good on him. Speaking of which though they do include 10 pages of Mc Duck family history that was supposed to open this story.. until Rosa’s editor wisely pointed out the story isn’t about them but scrooge and having read his roug draft, yeah.. there’s a good gag here and there, as well as “Dirty” Dingus McDuck, scrooge’s Grandpa and the reason Dewey is cursed with that middle name. Why anyone thought Dingus was a good name is beyond me, nor why Donald thought that was a good middle name back in 2009 is again, beyond me. Good on Don though for getting that past the censors.  But yeah with no money they can’t buy the land back and they were scared off it years ago by a mystical ghost dog, the hound of the whiskervilles. There is treasure in the castle, Sir Quackly’s gold, but he accidently sealed himself into a wall while sealing his treasure in there. Their interrupted by the town assholes, the Whiskervilles who have been grazing sheep on the land and are naturally behind the hound, using the sound of it to scare off Fergus once they realize he’s a McDuck. Because apparently you can keep a Scooby Doo style hoax up for Centuries if you don’t have meddling kids around. Who knew.  Back in Glasgow, we meet the rest of Scrooge’s family: His Uncle Jake, his sisters Matilda and Hortense, and his mother Downy. Jake hasn’t really been mentioned at all in Ducktales and I know next to nothing about him, which given I share a name with the guy you’d THINK I would. I mean I know a decent amount about this Jake. 

But nothing about who the hell Jake McDuck is or why he lives with his brother and his family. Here, you guys watch the dancing Jake, i’m going to probably do that for hours after this review is done, i’m going to go sort this out.  Okay one google and finding the Scrooge Mcduck wiki page on him, Jake shows up here likely because he was referenced in the story “A Christmas For Shacktown” and apparently borrowed from Scrooge and never paid it back. Otherwise.. there’s not a lot about him and unlike the rest of Scrooge’s family he really dosen’t do much that I can remember. Except like 2017 Scrooge, he apparently has become extremely long lived, as Scrooge and Donald STILL think he’s alive in the 1950′s.. and likely is STILL alive in some form in the Don Rosa stories, given his take place after Barks and thus in the 40′s and 50′s where Barks stories were set. Hence why unlike the Reboot, Scrooge isn’t inexpecilbly over 210. But Jake McDuck sure as heck is. Maybe this highlander is a highlander.. you know the movie and tv show type. Maybe someone cut off his head. That’s what i’m going with.

This does bring me to another point about this story: While Barks gave all of scrooge’s family their names, it’s where Rosa got them after all, it’s Rosa who really made them into characters. Fergus as a loving father ashamed his family legacy has fallen and wanting his son to do better than him, Downy as an equally loving wife and mother, Matilda as his sweet and caring sister and later her brother’s moral center, and Hortense.. well here she’s just a babbling baby but her character will become clear and glorious as we go. She is adorable here though and we do get some great bits with her.  Getting back to the plot now i’ve made my points, Jake is riled up wanting to understandably kick the Whiskerville’s asses with Scrooge, who even as a sweet innocent ten year old still has the family temper already, agreeing.. but Downy gently shoots them out pointing that two middle aged-ish men and a 10-year old just aren’t enough to fight an army of them and while she doesn’t mention it the fight would just tire them out for work and accomplish nothing as while it is the McDuck’s land the combination of the hound and the lack of money to move back means it’s pointless. She also mentions their younger brother Pothole, who went to America. This will be important later. 

Scrooge storms off and Fergus laments, in a scene that’s more painful the more I think about it, how his clan has fallen, with he and his brother lamenting their chances at glory are long gone.. but Fergus has hope his son can do better, and for his son’s birthday makes him a shoeshine kit in the hopes of inspiring him to greatness. This scene still resonates since many of us are poor, struggling and not doing so good money wise. I’m sure many parents have doubts and regrets about not being able to do more for their kid.

 Not only that but the story carefully avoids the trap of Fergus accidently being abusive by you know, pinning his family’s future on one 10 year old. While yes he is asking a lot of Scrooge, to restore their family name.. it’s very clear he mostly just wants his son to do better than him. Even if Scrooge was just slightly more successful, Fergus would likely be happy with that. He’s not using the legacy as a “This what you must be” like say the Gems in steven universe did for Steven with Rose’s Legacy, the kind where it sort of suffocates you till youc an make it your own. He’s just saying “this is what you can be” He believes his child can be great and simply once him to reach his full potetial and is simply giving him a means to hopefully do so, a simple home made shoe shine kit. While Jake scoffs, the narration notes the idea isn’t worth a dime.. it’s worth THE dime. The dime that would set Scrooge’s destiny in motion. 

The next morning, Fergus goes to check up on his son and his new buisness but Scroogey’s having no luck and about ready to just quit, the poor child. Also Matilda is dragging her baby sister around like a doll and it’s entirely precious as it is funny. 

But as for those Dorty Boots, Matilda wonders why her dad dosen’t just tell Scrooge that Burt the Ditch Digger is coming. Fergus tells her to quite and then explains his plan: he’s sending Burt to scrooge, with an American dime Fergus and Matilda found, to teach his son a lesson: By giving him a hard days work, he’ll teach him what hard work truly means.. and by having Burt “cheat” him with the American dime, it’ll give him the motivation to keep going and to nto be as wide eyed and trusting. It’s a well meaning if harsh lesson, and the kind you’d expect from 1900′s parenting and fits the origin well: Scrooge still earned his first money square, as he still did work.. but his getting cheated being a lesson dosen’t diminish what it taught scrooge, and helps flesh out what I talked about above, Fergus knowing his son has great potential he just needs inspiration to reach it. And instead of just telling him that he does a con job but it’s the 1900′s. This orign, and Fergus’ part in it would be entirely untouched in Ducktales 2017, the first scrooge based adaptation since this comic came out, and I bless them for it. Frank even said this comic was used as a bible by the writers and while theirs clear deviations, and we’ll get to that, they were mainly done for good reason, and it’s very clear that while scrooge’s history is very VERY diffrent in the reboot, the core of his past is still there. 

So the plan is on and young scrooge spends half an hour killing himself to get Burt’s shoes clean before getting his dime.. and realizing he’s been had, makes this proud decleration that will be the bedrock of his entire life and character. 

Scrooge being naturally stubborn as you can see takes his cheats a leson: There will always be hard honest work, and he will be there to do it and he’ll be tougher and sharper than anyone trying to cheat him out of his pay. Fergus’ plan has the intended effect, and Scrooge having learned a hard lesson now has the drive and determination we know him for. As for why it gives it to him.. I had to think on it a bit but it makes sense: For some a setback like this would make them quit.. for Scrooge it’s just proof he CAN find customers, he CAN do this job, or any at his hardest and instead takes this as a lesson to be prepared ot out think and outfight anyone who dares cheat him again, and to not earn his money by being the kind of guy who cheats a kid out of an honest days pay, but as a good honest duck like his father and his father before him. =He will make his money square so he can be the kind of person this seeming stranger SHOULD have been. Granted we’ll see Scrooge doesn’t end up as the best person at times but .. we’ll get there.  So with the fire inside turned from a spark into the flame Scrooge soon got to work, and by the next panel we see he’s eventually worked his stand up from a small box given to him by his dad, to a three seater shoeshining bench, who he wipes all at once by stretching one of his mother’s girldes over a light pole, a detail I didn’t get the first time around but now love. Naturally being a good kind boy much like his Nephews, Scrooge always gave his proud father a portion of his earnings, if with a full receipt for tax purposes. Because he’s still scrooge after all. His dad wonders he did too good a job while Hortense glxbit’s in agreement. 

As the years go on, a now tween Scrooge is eventually able to save up for a horse cart, and starts selling Fire Wood up in the city. He eventually realizes Peat, an earthy subtance found in bogs I only know about because I had to look it up for this review, is more profitable and with some snappy marketing moves into selling Peat for the rich instead, also showing the young lad already has a grasp of how to sell to obnoxious rich people. 

But while his business is booming, our young hero can’t resist visiting his family’s ancestral home and longing for it, hoping one day to have it for himself and in a nice show of how despite his temper and tenacity forged over the last few years he’s still at hear the kind, sweet optimistic lad he was just a few pages ago, he decides to tidy up the Clan’s Cemetary while he’s here. 

Unfortunately as proof that Donald and Della’s terrible luck comes from both sides of the family the Whiskervilles are sub-glomgold levels of human beings.. or Dogfaces in this case, and are digging up the McDuck Clan’s graves to hunt for treasure. Scrooge tries to simply do the smart thing and flee, but the asshole brigade catch sight of him and mistkaing him for a peat burgalar chase after him.. and spend WAY too much time and energy chasing a teenage boy over some fucking bog grass you clearly aren’t selling yourselves. I mean spare a thought for how dumb this is: They could easily sell of of that peat to put up a fence or chop down some trees to get the material if their really that concerned about someone getting in the bog. Then again this isn the 1800 and 1900′s where the child death toll was simply “Yes”, so they likely thought whose gonna notice one more dead child on our property?

Scrooge heads toward the castle and is gestured in by a friendly mystery duck who gladly shows him around and can tell he’s a McDuck just by look, showing the castle is still in glorious condition as the whiskervilles are too spooked to go in, hence why they didn’t chase Scrooge inside. I’d say being afraid of ghosts but not murdering a child is weird but these are the same guys who thought murdering a child was plan A. We’re not dealing with a brain trust is what i’m saying.  So the mystery duck shows Scroogey around, showing off some colorful stories about his ancestors recycled from that scrapped prologue I mentioned. THe mystery man, who brushes off Scrooge thinking he’s a McDuck asks Scrooge what he’s doing to restore the family glory and while Scrooge points out he’s already working on it, Mystery Duck points out he’s still missing something: He has the drive and the dream, but peat and shoeshining, while getting him good money for his family, aren’t the thing you can build a fortune or a future off of. He then points out where Scrooge’s dime comes from: America.. and that gives the boy the idea to head to the states. As for what he could possibly DO there to start, the mystery guy mentions his uncle pothole. So Scrooge has the dream, the drive.. and now a plan: Go to america, work for his uncle on the riverboats, and work his way up from there till he finds his fortune and restores his family name.  But while his future is settled, the present is still an issue and Scrooge wants to teach the child murder club a lesson and thus borrows, though MM wisely points out it’s all his property a horse and some armor, and stuffs the armor with peat. As for what his plan is.. welllll

That.. is fucking awesome. And far from the last fucking awesome moment in this thing. It also shows off even as not quite a teen yet, Scrooge is still a badass already, and while he doesn’t have his trademark strength or fighting skills quite yet, his ingenuity is already there.. and that will always trump both. The Whiskervilles run away and into some quicksand and Scrooge vows to return one day as laird and reclaim his family land. But that’s a story for a few chapters down the line. As for who the mystery duck is, he’s naturally Sir Quackely himself, or rather his ghost, who was simply guiding Scrooge and didn’t give him the treasure as simply handing him the money wouldnn’t restore their family’s good name or continue their bloodline now would it? 

For now Scrooge returns to work for a bit before finding his way to America: A cattleboat to New Orleans looking for a Cabin Boy. And so Scrooge bids farewell to his family. His Dad, feeling bad he can’t even give his boy shilling, gives him the family pocketwatch with jake pitching in with the family gold dentures. While Scrooge naturally refuses to sell the watch, he does plan to sell the teeth as soon as possible for good reason. We then get some sweet goodbyes with him, his sisters (With hortense uttering her first words to everyone’s astonishment) and loving mother as he wonders just what awaits him in America. 

And there he stands on the bow of a ship, heading for a new land, in New Orleans he can be a new man. And we’ll see just what kind of man he becomes as this series continues. For now this is the end of a chapter but the beginning of a lifetime. 

Final Thoughts on Last of the Clan McDuck:

This story is excellent. While there are even better chapters to come, this one is still one of the most memorable and most joyous, showing just how Scrooge became what he is, where some of his values come from, others will be instilled along the way , and beginning to flesh out his family. We see Scrooge’s love of wealth comes from starting from the bottom, growing up with a family that barely had anything and badly needed everything, but was loving and instilled fine morals in him. We also see a Scrooge far removed from the bitter old man he is in present day, an optimistic naïve young lad who only wants best for his family. It’s a nice stark contrast to who he’ll become, good and bad, and a nice way to both compare him to Huey Dewey and Louie and break your heart as his own hardens before briefly turning black later on.  The art, as is standard for this series and Rosa, is breathtaking, and the story isn’t lacking in good jokes, their just downplayed so the story itself can take center stage. There’s nothing really more to say: it’s an excellent start to an even more excellent tale and stands proud among an already stellar story as one of it’s finest outings. 

NEXT RAINBOW: Scrooge goes down to the mighty Missipi to work on the riverboats and meets one of his signature Rogue’s for the first time in their first form, as well as Gyro’s dad.. or grandpa.. or possibly both I don’t know his family tree. Point is, tune in next time for some riverboat hyjinks.  Until then if you’d like to comission an episode of any animated show, especially ducktales and the various other duck related disney shows, or another Duck Comics story you really like from Rosa, Barks or whoever you want really, I take commissions for 5 dollars a review, with 5 dollars off your full order when you put in for more than one episode or issue. You can also follow me on patreon.com/popculturebuffet and for just two bucks a month get access to polls (which i’ll start once we have at least three patreons), and my exclusive discord server. And if you liked this review be sure to reblog it to show off. My self promotion done until next time: There’s always another rainbow. 

[jadelotusflower]

Roundup - September 2021

This month: Saving Fish From Drowning, Alice in Wonderland/Through the Looking Glass, Anne Boleyn, Cruella, The Chair

Reading

Saving Fish from Drowning (Amy Tan) - I've always enjoyed Tan's work (particularly The Joy Luck Club, both the book and film) - Fish is somewhat of a departure, following a group of American tourists in Myanmar, narrated by their recently deceased friend Bibi Chen. The novel begins with a preface in which Tan explains she drew inspiration for the novel based on real events chronicled by a San Franciscan psychic's "automatic writing" channeling Chen's spirit (in truth a complete invention on Tan’s part, both literary device and metaphor).

Bibi is a compelling narrator, full of wry commentary of her friends as they bumble their way through their trip, the tone of the novel quite light despite some of the dark subject matter around the political situation in Myanmar (the novel was written in 2005 and set several years earlier) and the nature of intervention - the title referring to fisherman who "save fish from drowning" by netting them. It was at times difficult to keep track of all twelve (!) of the main characters and who was who outside of the few who get the most attention of the narrative.

An interesting read, about the stories we tell ourselves and others, and the fictions we believe for comfort and hope.

Alice's Adventures in Wonderland/Through the Looking Glass and what Alice found there (Lewis Carroll) - I've been making more of an effort to work on my novel lately, which makes some reference to these works so thought it was due for a re-read. It seems impossible to consider these separate novels given how conflated they have become in pop culture - even the Disney film takes elements from both - they act as either a duology, or alternatively a single story told in two parts.

I personally much prefer Looking Glass, perhaps because I imprinted on the 1985 miniseries as a child (which adapts both novels, but we only had the second part on tape) - best known for it's celebrity cameos in silly costumes - including Sammy Davis Jnr, Donald O'Connor, Ringo Starr, and Carol Channing, among others, and the danger of the Jabberwocky as a manifestation of Alice's fears quite a nice idea that isn't found in the original text.

Perhaps Looking Glass, while remaining absurdist, is more cohesive than Wonderland with the chess motif and central motive for Alice to reach the Eighth Square and become a queen. I do however find the constant poetry tedious, and wonder whether both Wonderland and Looking Glass are better remembered for the concepts rather than the actual text.

Watching

Anne Boleyn (episodes 1-3) - I didn't think we needed another film/show about Anne, but I was always going to watch it. This series relies upon familiarity with history as it begins with Anne's final, doomed pregnancy - opening with the haunting words “Anne is the most powerful woman in England - she has just five months to live.”

There's nothing especially new here; rather a mood and character piece as Anne's isolation and desperation grows. It is of course built around the central, compelling performance of Jodie Turner-Smith, in every single scene and not afraid to shy away from Anne's sharper edges while remaining profoundly sympathetic, surrounded by a court of whispers, her existence on a knife's edge. We know only what Anne knows, and we see the smaller, heartbreaking moments usually passed over in other adaptations - in her grief following the stillbirth, Anne sits up in bed almost catatonic, milk leaking from her breasts, her attempt to walk back the infamous “dead man's shoes” comment, and the long days of her imprisonment.

Then there’s the beautiful costumes - in a court of dark furs, Anne wears bold primary colours and velvets that catch the light, that them become more subdued prints once she is in the Tower.

The other notable feature is the casting - described as "identity conscious" rather than colour-blind, representative of the othering of Anne and her relatives. Another standout is Thalissa Teixeira as Anne's cousin Madge Shelton, fleshed out as her confidant and the only one who remains true to her. It's a fresh perspective and a worthwhile watch, particularly for Turner-Smith's performance.

Cruella (dir. Craig Gillespie) - Spoilers. I wasn’t planning on bothering with this, but my sister wanted to watch it and I’d been told by several people that it was actually quite good. Look, I'm not saying they lied, I just think they were able to look past things that I was not.

Because actually, the core story has potential and the film has enjoyable elements (notably Emma Thompson), but simply falters every time they try and shoehorn references to the source material, and there are some truly egregious attempts - Roger is the Baroness’s lawyer for some reason? And writes the familiar Cruella De Vil song about how awful she is when she's just given him a puppy?

It doesn’t work as a prequel, or villain origin story, or even a reboot, since Cruella’s character journey is over by the end of the film (I have no idea what the purported sequel is going to be about) - in fact "Cruella" is just a persona Stone's Estella adopts (complete with a terrible affected accent), and there is no conceivable way for her to become the wannabe puppy murderer we know from the book or any of the film adaptations. Oh, and Pongo and Perdita are siblings! Well done, Disney. Slow clap for you.

Also, with a runtime of 2 hours 16 minutes it is Interminable and the whole thing is saddled with a terrible, unnecessary voiceover. Seriously, they should show this in film class to demonstrate when v/o hinders not helps.

They were likely going for a Maleficent-style re-imagining, but where that succeeded (somewhat) in a completely new retelling right down to a different ending to the source material, this wants to have it's cake and eat it too - it wants to have the Cruella aesthetic (the car, the hair, Hell Hall, the camp accent) but doesn't ever let her be a villain, or even the beginnings of a villain, but that's that's reason she's so memorable in the first place. It puts all the pieces in place for the story we know, and yet that story simply cannot happen with this version of Cruella.

In the end, it's a story of a fundamentally decent person who maybe goes a bit overboard in retaliating to bullies, and swindles a sociopath to reclaim what's rightfully hers. Cruella De Vil! I just couldn't get over this fundamental misapplication of the source material.

In many ways, it almost feels as if this was pitched as a sequel, with Cruella in the Baroness role. It would have fit a lot better with the aesthetic, the time period, and the concept of punk disruption of classic fashion. Or, it was a completely unrelated story of a plucky orphan who rises in the fashion world, that at some point was grafted onto the Dalmatians property. Either one would have worked better, frankly.

I am probably being overly harsh. If you switch off your brain and enjoy the clothes it’s fine. But honestly, if you want your live action Cruella fix, just watch the Glenn Close version, because it is superior in every way.

The Chair (season 1) - I watched this for Sandra Oh, and I was not disappointed, because I got to watch Sandra Oh. On the other hand...it's not that I didn't like it, I just...wish it had been better?

The story revolves around Ji-Yoon Kim, the first woman (let alone woman of colour) to become Chair of English at a "minor Ivy" university, as she tries to juggle the clash of old style academia and new, raise her daughter as a single mother, and deal with a series of controversies caused by one of her professors (and love interest). It's the latter I feel sucked up way too much time and was ultimately unsatisfying - particularly the end, which was played like a moral victory but really rubbed me the wrong way. If this gets a season 2, I hope they dump Jay Duplass' fuckup sadsack because hoo boy, am I sick of that kind of male character.

But Sandra Oh is wonderful.

Writing

The Lady of the Lake - chapter 5 posted, 4215 words (10,261)

Against the Dying of the Light 1954 words (11,976)

Here I Go Again - 414 words (12,948)

Novel - 1039 words (1484)

Total this month: 7,622

Total this year: 48,435