#there's something sweet; and almost kind. (daisy&gladstone.)

[tcsauaskblog]

Love tcs! Question about Don/Daisy. What was the worst fight they ever had in the high school era?

I’m glad you specified in the high school era because there was definitely a worse fight than this, but the worst one probably happened when they first started dating in the summer of their junior year. Don and Daisy don’t really fight. They playfully bicker about small things occasionally, but it’s never about anything serious. They both know how bad Donald’s temper can get and how thin Daisy’s tolerance can be sometimes, and so they both work hard to avoid any conflicts with each other and with themselves. And it works really well.  But then Daisy starts hearing the hushed comments and snide remarks from others. About how Donald isn’t good enough for her. How he’s just some country bumpkin with no tools in his shed. How he doesn’t have many, if any at all, redeeming qualities. She first starts to hear it from her parents and sister. Their noses turned towards the sky and eyes sharp with judgment every time Donald’s dirty, beat-up pick up pulls into their driveway to pick Daisy up. Then she starts to hear it from her friends, voicing their hushed assertions in the guise of concerns in the hallways by Daisy’s locker as Donald passes them, his hair a mess and his flannel patched and worn and always stained with something. And then there are the whispers from people she doesn’t know. Passing them in the cafeteria or on the street, eyes darting between the two whenever Donald speaks or laughs or is at all loud. Like they can’t really see the connection, and if they did see one, they didn’t like it or approve. Donald’s own family even jokes about it sometimes. How Daisy is too ‘pretty’, too ‘smart’, too ‘whatever’, to be hanging out with some ‘dummy’ like Donald. How can she see anything in a guy who loses his composure over every little thing, whose voice is cracked almost to the point of unrecognition and whose hands are calloused and rough and whose poorer than dirt and has nothing significant going for him. And it’s only when Donald agrees to their ‘jokes’ with a shy and humble smile that Daisy finally loses her cool. It’s her turn to get unbelievably angry and defensive. 

Because it’s not about how she can see. It’s about how everyone else can’t see. 

Can’t see that the dirty pickup Donald drives is the one he built with his own two hands. How every part, every wire, every little screw was tested over and over again until the truck was in perfect condition. How Donald is meticulous about weekly maintenance checks. Not because he’s a car guy. Not because he even likes doing it. But because his parents died in a car accident. And Donald holds a weighted responsibility and guilt on his shoulders that no one else put there but him to make sure that that never happens again. So it looks beat up. So it’s covered in a bit of mud. Daisy would entrust her life in that truck any day of the week just because of the packed emergency first aid duffle bag in the back seat and Donald is always the one behind the wheel.   Can’t see that sure, his hair is a mess and his clothes are ruffed up. But that’s only because Donald spent the night before talking Fethry out of a panic attack from a nightmare he had, staying up long after Fethry had calmed down and gone back to sleep just to rub reassuring circles into Fethry’s back through the blanket and talk quiet nothings too him like a white noise machine. How his clothes are ragged and patched and stained because Donald also works part-time as an everyman for old man Otto a couple of fields over to earn a little bit more money for his family on top of all the other farm chores he has to do at home. That he’s ragged and tired, but still lets Fethry hang off his shoulders while he walks, and listens intently to everything under the sun that Della has to tell him excitedly and loudly, and will still get worked up enough to bite back at Gladstone when Gladstone pokes him in the sides to get a kick out of him because he knows he can get away with it. And he ‘doesn’t need new clothes’, he says after asking Daisy to patch up another hole in this shirt. He says he’d much rather use whatever money they had on tractor parts, or stocking up the pantry with Gladstone’s favorite foods so that ‘the moron will eat SOMETHING at least’, or getting that new book Della and Fethry have been talking about lately about space travel. He doesn’t need to look good. They’re just gonna get dirty while he works anyway. He’s fine with it. He’s fine with self-sacrificing everything about himself for his family’s sake.

Can't see that when Donald is loud and boisterous, it’s only because he’s finally happy and proud enough to be, after spending so long fearing and hating the way he sounds to others and how they perceive him. How long he spent in that dark place and how hard he worked to overcome it. And how when he’s loud, it’s only to make Daisy laugh hard enough to split her sides, and when he smiles, that cute, half-grin that’s just on the legal side of mischievous, it makes Daisy’s whole world brighter and lighter and warmer than the sun.

And Daisy know’s that his cousins and sister are just teasing him. She knows how much they love and respect and cherish him. But sometimes she feels that they can’t see the two together as a good pair. They can’t see the connection between the two deeper than the surface level. Can’t see that Daisy isn't too ‘pretty’ for Donald. She isn’t too ‘smart’ for him. Isn’t to anything for him. Donald is probably the most handsome guy she’s ever met, rugged and kind and absolutely alluring in every way. And despite working practically two jobs and reigning in his rambunctious cousins, he still gets amazing grades, and he’s incredibly knowledgeable in the things he’s passionate about. In things Daisy doesn’t have the slightest bit of info on. 

And why can’t anyone see just how amazing he is. How he’s a romantic at heart, always bringing her tiny gifts that remind him of her, liked pressed Corncockles and New England Asters. How he always saves her the best piece of any dessert he bakes, because he knows how much of a sweet tooth Daisy has. How he’s still so very polite to her parents, even though he knows how much they don’t like him. How he’ll find time in his busy day, even if it’s just for a few minutes, just to spend with her. To listen to her ramble or complain about whatever petty thing bothered her or to just hold her hand and enjoy each other’s company.

And Daisy hates how Donald’s fallen into everyone’s trap. How he sees himself through their eyes and refuses to listen to Daisy no matter how many times she tells him that they’re wrong. How he is good enough. How he’s more than enough. How he’s everything to her.

There first and worst fight involved the two of them hashing it out, with Daisy practically screaming at him to understand. To stop looking down on himself and to stop looking down on her. For thinking she’s only with him as a fluke. That she can’t possibly like him for any real reason and that she sees nothing in him worth admiring. She’s not superficial like that, and it hurts so much when Donald agrees with everyone's downcasted views of himself. How he’s so willing to believe that he isn’t worth Daisy’s, or anyone's, time.  Donald had never seen Daisy cry before that, and it completely threw his world upside and sideways. They talked for a really long time, out in the back of the ranch house by the big pond. About how Daisy wishes Donald would see himself through her eyes, and be as proud and amazed with himself as she was, and about how Donald would try, how he didn’t know she felt this way and was sorry. He made up relatively easily, and even though Donald still kind of puts himself down, he’s quick to regain and defend himself in front of Daisy. And she thinks that even if it’s baby steps, as long as he’s moving forward, Daisy will be right by his side moving forward with him.

[fashicnista-blog]

@tcthinecwnself

[shewhowantsmouseears]

Love Like Lava, 3

Notes: As always, big thanks to my editors Drucilla and BlueShifted.

Managed to pop one more out before vacation time! One of the hardest things about this story was what to do with the Pygmalion mythos. At first glance it seems sweet, but once you take a closer look it does get pretty creepy. So I wrestled for a while how to fix it - and only in the last month or so did it finally come to me. What will happen to Goofy and the statue? You'll have to wait to find out.

For those new to my stories or just need a refresher - Millie is a fanmade OC made between myself and my friend Ange.

Summary: A woman lost to the sea, and a god lost to time. In her own way, Minnie will bring her gifts to those who didn't ask.

Whenever Daisy was informing Minnie about the ways of the world, which had almost become a daily routine by this point, the love goddess always paid rapt attention. She wanted to memorize every single detail her first friend gave her and to no longer feel as though she were a pathetic infant. But as the two immortals strolled around a quaint village of cobblestone, Minnie found herself unusually distracted. Daisy was explaining the differences between demigods, regular gods, and “The Big Three” as she called them, but Minnie kept sucking in her cheek and smacking her lips.

“Demigods, like myself, have only half the power of a regular god,” Daisy said, having chosen to wear a sunflower in her hair. Like all the other times they had taken casual walks through mortal homes, the two were invisible to the common eye. In an earlier lesson, Daisy had proven this by plucking off one of the seeds from her sunflower and flicking it at an elderly man's cheek. He had paused, picked up the fallen seed, and decided that it must have fallen from the mouth of a bird flying overheard. “For example, I can't summon a Viewing Mirror and I can't influence the mind of any mortal. Now the Big Three, they're all powerful, but it comes at a cost. Like my husband-”

The longwinded explanation came to an abrupt halt when she heard Minnie's lips smack once again. She stopped in place, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms. One of the things that Minnie adored about Daisy was that she was never shy about how she felt, and right now she was obviously annoyed. “Do that one more time and I'll have you sit in a garden full of corpse flowers. Three guesses what they smell like and the first two don't count.”

Minnie hung her head like an ashamed child, twiddling her thumbs. “I'm sorry, Daisy. I just – I can't explain it...”

“Then ask. It's what I'm here for, apparently.” The two temporarily stopped where they were, and any mortals walking along the same path felt an inclination to walk around, perhaps thinking they wanted to avoid stepping in a puddle of mud.

“Oh, I do appreciate you teaching me so much! But – But sometimes I get worried I'm annoying you.”

“You are,” Daisy replied calmly, her bluntness another odd but helpful stable of this friendship. “But I figure the sooner you learn everything you need to know, the sooner we can get to know the real you. Knowing something doesn't define you. It's what you do with the knowledge.” Plus it gave Daisy's ego an extra boost. After being treated like a fool and a damsel in distress by her mother and those superior snotty gods on Mount Olympus, having someone admire and look up to her was more than welcome. “I'll admit, you being so cute does cut the annoyance down by half.”

It was supposed to be a compliment, but Minnie frowned, still being adorable as her pouting exposed dimples in her cheeks. She hated to have her friendship watered down by her own beauty. “All right, but you'll think it's strange. I...I've just been having the strangest craving for peaches the last couple of days.” When she told Pete, Mortimer, and Gladstone this, she was hoping to get some kind of answer. Instead, she got armfuls of peaches, followed by the men throwing peaches at each other because each one believed they should have been the only one feeding her.

Daisy blinked slowly three times before getting an idea. “A craving like that might mean someone offered peaches at your temple...And you have a temple! Way to go!” In congratulations, she ruffled the top of Minnie's head, and was both amused and miffed to find that each delicate curl of fur simply bounced right back into place.

“I have a temple?” Minnie asked out loud, but in that same second she felt it was true. “I have a temple! Oh goody!” Having so very few things she could call her own, the idea filled her to the brim with excitement, especially because as Daisy had told her on day one, mortals built temples. “People actually worked on it and built it, with their own hands! They didn't have powers or anything! Daisy, I want to go see it, I want go see it!” She skipped in glee, frolicking ahead of Daisy.

“Okay, but don't expect much!” Daisy called after her, trying to catch up to Minnie's dancing. “You're a new goddess! You won't have any statues or paintings or wall carvings! Slow down, will you?” But no matter how hard she tried to put a lid on Minnie's happiness, it wouldn't simmer down. She wound up having to chase after her friend, stifling chuckles in her throat. If this was a glance at Minnie's real personality underneath all the questions, perhaps she was as cute on the inside as she was on the outside.

Minnie thought it was sheer coincidence that her temple was in the very same village they were visiting that day, but Daisy didn't believe in coincidences. When you lived as long as she had, it was easier to see that random happenings were part of fate's ultimate design. As the duck had tried to warn her beforehand, the temple was nothing to brag about. It was smaller than the average house, with red paint that had already begun to show signs of scratches. The entrance was a little lopsided, and inside was only one altar in the middle of a tiny room. But Minnie loved it, loved it, loved it to pieces, running her hands on the walls and twirling around to make sure she'd seen absolutely everything. This was hers, and hers alone. “It's beautiful!”

“If you say so,” Daisy winced as she stepped inside, a wretched stench hitting her nostrils. “Ugh...and I think we found your craving.” Placing a hand over her beak, she approached the altar where a crate with now rotten peaches sat. “Oh, for goodness sake! They're supposed to burn the offering! That's how we get it! Whoever did this must be a few horses short of a full stable.”

Still, Minnie's mood wouldn't be beat, and she even hugged the crate, despite suffering from the same ghastly smell hitting her nose. “It's what they did with the knowledge, remember? And I think it's a wonderful gift...even if it is going to going to make me throw up in a few minutes.” Swallowing down an urge to gag, she now inspected the crate with loving care to find a name or an identifying feature. “I want to thank whoever did this!”

“Well, that is your right.” Daisy inched back towards the entrance, trying to waft away the smell with her hand. “If a god or goddess really likes what someone offered, they can reward the mortal who gave it. I've helped a few farmers with their crops after the nice stuff they gave me. All you have to do is concentrate, and you can find whoever left this here.” And maybe give them a good smack upside the head, she mentally added.

“Yes, I'll concentrate! … Outside!”

Once the duo were out in fresh air, Minnie closed her eyes, concentrating long and hard about whoever it was that left her an offering. It was slightly more difficult than Daisy's blasé explanation, and she found she wasn't really sure what exactly she was supposed to be doing. In a fit of frustration, she wished whoever it was gave her some kind of sign.

“YAAAAAA-HA-HA-HOOOOIE!”

Minnie hadn't quite meant it like that. As she and Daisy heard the holler, they tilted their heads in unison as a runaway wagon careened down the nearby hill, rolling over and over on anything but its own wheels. The horses that were supposed to be guiding it were on top of the hill, in no rush to after the lost cargo. Fruits and vegetables splattered off the wagon – including peaches, Minnie noticed – and the villagers stepped aside, many wearing an irked expression as if this was the sign of another Monday. The wagon only stopped when it crashed into a fence, but its rider kept on going, rolling on the ground until gravity and exhaustion made him plop face-first in front of the girls, half of a watermelon stuck on his head.

“Minnie, don't concentrate so hard next time.”

“Sorry.”

Whoever it was dizzily tried to sit up, tugging on the watermelon but finding it hard to remove. The villagers got to work cleaning up his mess, with their irritation obvious in every shout.

“Nice going, you big goof!”

“You really put the pig in Pygmalion!”

“Why don't you do us all a favor and not cause trouble for ONE day?!”

The rider didn't reply, still too focused on his entrapment, now even using his feet in an attempt to pry the fruit off of his face. Daisy didn't know who to feel more sorry for – this mystery oaf, or for Minnie that said oaf was her very first worshipper. Yet Minnie didn't sound disappointed, as she tugged on Daisy's arm and pleaded gently, “Okay, so, how do I make him see me?”

Daisy raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you want to 'meet' him? He seems kinda...”

“Welp,” said the mystery man, “May as well have a snack, long as I'm stuck.” Daisy felt the chewing noises that followed said more than she needed to.

“Yes, I'm very sure.” Minnie nodded once, holding her head with pride. “He did something very nice for me, and he didn't have to! All the gods on Mount Olympus fawn over me and give me things just because I look nice. But he's never even seen me before and he gave me a whole crate of peaches! And without breaking the crate, which...might be a very big deal for him.” Minnie had only known this man for roughly fifteen seconds and she was already overwhelmingly proud of him. Even though he had messed up, it was the thought that counted.

Daisy could see that Minnie wouldn't be persuaded otherwise. “Very well. But first? We don't tell him we're goddesses. That'll just cause a world of trouble.” She grasped Minnie's right hand, and Minnie felt warmth seeping into her skin. “Second, we can't look exactly like we already do. Might make a few of them go nuts, and that'll probably go double for the 'goddess of beauty'. So you have to think of how you want them to see you. I'll help you out, just this once.” Attaining a form that mortals could see required a lot of energy, and there was no way Daisy was letting the newborn goddess do this all her own.

As for the mortal man, now that he'd eaten his fill, the fruity cage on his head was easier to yank off. Now that he was free, the girls could see he was a dog, with long black ears dripping with red juice. His muzzle stuck out the same way his limbs did, a little too much to be considered handsome. His buck teeth didn't help any, and his slow blinking eyes didn't give any signs of great intelligence hiding behind them. He was pretty much what one expected when you hear someone being described as goofy.  But one probably didn't expect them to keep it as a name. Goofy was full of surprises, not all of them pleasant, but it was his turn to be surprised today.

He lifted his head and saw two exceptionally pretty ladies standing directly in front of him. They wore matching dresses colored pink and green, with matching sandals and even matching hairstyles that stretched over the same shoulders. But they couldn't be called twins, as Daisy had chosen to make herself look like an older woman of refined dignity, perhaps the matriarch of a rich family. She had found that mortals tended to respect the elderly even if they were complete strangers. Minnie on the other hand, had decided to go as a young girl, nearly budding out of childhood, as she felt it was unfair to “lie” to her worshipper about how old she was, or at least how old she felt.

Goofy was very sure he'd never seen either one of them before in the village, but instead of regarding that with suspicion, he smiled pleasantly and offered both of his hands. “Well, hello there! You folks must be new in town.”

“Why yes, we are,” Minnie chirped, having no idea what to do with the hand in front of her. “I'm Minnie, and this is Daisy!” Was she allowed to give out their chosen names like that? She quickly glanced at Daisy for approval, but thankfully her elder quietly nodded and took Goofy's hand to shake. Minnie eagerly copied the action. How fun!

“I'm Pygmalion, but everyone 'round here calls me Goofy!” When his hands were free, he pushed himself to stand, towering over both of them but making sure not to use his full height. “Nice ta meetcha! I'm sure you'll like our town real nice. We got the world's first temple to that new goddess, Aphrodite!” He tugged on his robe with his thumbs, bits of lettuce tumbling off as he did so. “Why, I even helped build it!”

“Will wonders never cease,” Daisy mumbled under her breath.

“You did a wonderful job!” Minnie had to physically jump and grab Goofy's hand to shake it again, which she did with much more vigor this time around. “It's so beautiful! It's a perfect temple! I couldn't ask – I mean, Aphrodite couldn't ask for one better!”

“Aw, shucks. Weren't nothin',” Goofy blushed with full rich color, allowing Minnie to have his hand as much as pleased. With every shake he lowered his head lower. “Every god's gotta have a temple, right? Even mean ol' Hades!” He would have gone into the details of how the temple was truly a group effort had Daisy not given him a good smack upside the head.

“My hand slipped,” Daisy lied through bared teeth. “Apologies.”

Goofy blinked slowly, but seemed to actually believe this. “Shoot, that's all right! No worse than what I do most times.” Speaking of which, he finally looked to survey the damage he'd done. His shoulders sagged as he saw his neighbors lift the wagon back onto its wheels and lasso the horses back to their proper places. “Oops. I was just tryin' to make some deliveries on the side. Maybe I should help clean up.”

“What do you mean, on the side?” Minnie asked, giving his hand an extra long tug to distract him.

It worked, as Goofy whipped his head around, right as rain again. “Just to make some extra money! No one's been buyin' my art, so I gotta find some way to put food on the table. But I think today I might wind up eatin' the table.”

Daisy had to admit she was getting curious. “You make art?”

“Can we see?” Minnie had almost started to hug Goofy's arm, which he would have allowed, but Daisy grabbed her by the shoulders and finally yanked her off. “Please, I would love to see your art, mister Goofy!”

The dog's eyes widened slightly, clearly surprised by such a request. His sad feelings about lost food and lost coin would have to wait. “Sure you can! My house is just a jump, skip, and a hop away! Oh boy, I ain't had visitors in a real long time.” With an extra bounce in his step, he walked along the stone pathway and the girls followed, trying to imagine what a man like this could make with his hands. They weren't very surprised to see his home resemble the temple – it was boringly average with scrapped paint, the windows and doors at odd angles. Daisy was afraid that if she sneezed too hard it would all come tumbling down. Minnie thought it was quaint.

“Home sweet home,” Goofy said, pushing open his wooden door that fell over onto the floor. He shrugged it off, and walked inside with a whistle. “Make yourselves comfy! Sorry about the mess. Can't prepare for what you don't expect, I suppose.”

In seconds Minnie would learn what a sculptor does, as the one floor home was decked in marble life. The floor was covered in broken bits of stone and dust, and a chipped shelf held rusty tools that had seen better days. Yet even Daisy was stunned because she, like everyone else in the village, hadn't expected anyone named Goofy to be good at carving statues.

“Oh, my! These are amazing!” Minnie exclaimed, and despite having an inexperienced worldview, she was absolutely right. These were amazing statues, because each one looked ready to spring to life. In one corner sat an elderly man reading bedtime stories to his dozing grandchildren. A mountain lion on the prowl took over a good portion of the floor. Collections of birds sitting on shy girls' shoulders lined up on a windowsill. Each masterpiece was filled with emotion and devotion, and the only thing to find displeasing about them was that they took up so much space that it was hard to move around.

“I don't believe this,” Daisy walked around a marble deer that was sniffing a fake flower. “I've seen statues in temples that don't look half as good! How do you do it?”

Goofy shrugged, unsure of how to answer what he thought was a fairly silly question. “I just do it. Been doin' this ever since I could hold a chisel in my hand. It's what makes me happy.”

Daisy had to bend in an awkward position in order not to knock off a young athlete throwing a sharp javelin. “And you're telling me nobody wants to buy these? Are they blind?”

As long as he was there, Goofy decided to get a bit of work done. He picked up his aging hammer and rusty chisel from his tool shelf, and began to add another layer to a princess' wedding cake. “Folks don't really believe a guy like me can make anythin' purdy-lookin'. Can't blame 'em, really.” He knelt down, wanting to make sure the strawberry that fell off the icing had the right number of leaves. “Folks see a sickly gardener, they might think his veggies ain't good. They see a weaver with shaky hands, they might think her baskets fall apart. Way of the world, I learned by now. People see what they see.”

“But that's not fair!” Daisy scoffed, her flippant hand almost knocking over a flock of hummingbirds. “People shouldn't judge you based on what they see!” Although she had to pause as she realized she had done the same thing mere moments ago. She lowered her hand, nervously twirling her hair around her finger. “And if they do, they should feel terrible about it.”

Goofy chuckled, thanking her kindly for her sympathy. But neither of them had yet to notice the missing third member of their party. A moment ago, as Minnie had been admiring the works around her, she'd noticed a room that instead of holding a door had a blue curtain serving as an entrance. Her inquisitive nature naturally led her towards the room, paying no mind to the conversation being held without her.

It was a bedroom, if Minnie had to fathom a guess based on the sole frayed excuse of a mattress lying on the floor covered by a blanket that in no way could cover the extremely long dog. Unlike the rest of the house, only one statue was in this room. But it was more brilliant and beautiful than all the others – perhaps more brilliant and beautiful than anything Minnie had ever seen in her short life.

A woman stood on a sandy beach, seashells decorated at her bare feet. She was a dainty poodle, with cut puffs of fur around her neck and wrists. Her dress had only one layer, yet it pooled around her as if it could go on for miles. Her eyes were closed, her chin down, and she smiled with peace and serenity. In her cupped hands lay a necklace, shabbily made with bits of broken seaglass and string, yet she held it as if was the most precious treasure on earth. Even those who could claim not to have an appreciation for such things could tell this was a statue made with purest, deepest love – and Minnie felt it within the depths of her very soul.

She reached out to touch the woman's dress, almost startled to feel marble instead of silk, and as she continued to gaze at the woman's blissful expression, tears filled Minnie's eyes. She could feel every second that Goofy had worked on this piece, every passionate chip, and it was indeed made with love – with a heart broken in untold agony. Minnie fell to her knees, unable to stop crying, as if Goofy's heartache was also hers.

By then the other two realized Minnie had gone, and when Daisy pushed aside the curtain to see her sobbing companion, she ran to throw her arms around the younger goddess. “Minnie!” She held her close, trying to see her face. “What is it? What's wrong?” Unable to form words at the time, Minnie wildly gestured at the statue. Daisy looked up – while she too thought it was far more gorgeous than anything she'd seen in the entrance, she didn't understand why it had sent Minnie into a fit. “It's a happy statue! Look at that face, she's smiling!” Worry gave way to anger, and she glared at Goofy since he was more or less responsible for this mess. “Help me out here, will you? What's this one supposed to be?”

Goofy was at a loss for words for several reasons. He had never intended for this particular statue to be seen by anyone else, and since he never had visitors, it had never occurred to him that a curtain wasn't exactly a way to ward someone off. He'd also never handled a sobbing girl since – since – hm. Well. Since her. “She's...She was...a girl I loved a long time ago.”

Was – that one word diffused Daisy's anger like throwing water on a candle. Married to the god of death, she knew more than anyone the power of “was”. All she could say in response was a diminutive “Oh.”

Goofy hadn't told anyone this story, so he wasn't sure how to go about it. He took his time walking towards the statue, his voice distant and pained. “Her name was Millicent. She liked 'Millie' better, though. Said she always thought the name was for a fancier girl, not for a sailor's daughter. She taught me all about nautical ropes, and always untied me when I got it wrong. We'd make sandcastles on the beach and make up constellations when the stars came out. She never made me feel dumb. Said I was just smart about different things. Millie always knew how to make me smile, and she always knew when I was sad. She was special, but she wanted to be with me anyway. I always thought she deserved better than the likes of me, but anytime I said so, she made me take it back. Said nobody deserved anybody. That hearts loved who they loved, no more, no less, and that her heart loved me.”

His fingers touched the necklace embedded into the statue, and while Minnie's cries had quieted down, he felt compelled to finish what it hurt to speak of. “Her Pa was always sailin' to other places, and when he had to go, so did she. Last time he did, he and Millie weren't sure when they'd be back. I thought long and hard...and then I made her a necklace. I knew it wasn't good, it's not like carvin'. But I told her how much I loved her, and that if she wore it when she came back home, I'd make her my wife.” How many years had it been since he'd stood on the port, waving her goodbye until her boat was a speck on the horizon? He'd long since lost count, or more accurately, had stopped counting when he learned of its fate.

“Sailors can prepare for the worst. But they ain't gods. They can't predict the weather perfectly. Nastiest storm on record...nothin' left but planks floatin' in the water. We had folks search all over the ocean, and that was all they could find.”

Goofy's cheeks were dry, perhaps unable to cry after years and years of howling over Millie's cruel fate. Daisy's cheeks were wet, yet despite her blurry vision she noticed a vital detail about the statue. “She's – she's not wearing the necklace.”

“Didn't think it'd be right.” His fingers slid off the marble, his hands hanging at his sides. “Didn't wanna make the choice for her.” Goofy looked down at the women, and then knelt down, tenderly petting Minnie between the ears. “Real sorry to make you hear that sob story. Last thing I ever wanna do is hurt someone. We can still make this day end on a good note, if'n you want. Always thought makin' a new friend was the best part of any day.” He pointed to his face, where despite all that had been said, a smile lay there with warmth and invitation. “You might not feel like you'll smile again, but you will.” A mantra he'd told himself thousands of times, no doubt.

Minnie didn't smile, but she did throw her arms around Goofy's neck for a tight hug. Daisy joined right after, and while Goofy was temporarily stunned, he embraced them both. “Ain't you ladies sweet as pie.” His stomach seemed to have no connection to his heart, as it began to growl at the mere mention of dessert. “Huh. Dinner for three...might be a little tricky.”

With that, Minnie pulled back, wiping her face. “Oh, no, we wouldn't dare intrude. You should feed yourself.”

“Anything we eat is going to taste salty at this rate,” Daisy added, pulling Minnie to her feet. “We should get going.”

Goofy was slightly disappointed to be deprived of company so soon, but he'd never impose. “If'n you say so. You two ever wanna come by, my door's always open! Or on the floor. Either way, you'll be welcome! And to make up for all that cryin', I'll make a special statue, just for Minnie here! It'll make you smile, that's a guarantee!” He jabbed a thumb to his chest, allowing himself to have a few handfuls of pride if it meant cheering someone up. “Whaddya want made?”

Minnie blinked with wet lashes. What did she want? That was a new one. She'd never been asked that before. The men on Mount Olympus assumed her wants and needs, and Daisy either gave Minnie a lesson in whatever she felt like teaching at that moment or waited for Minnie to ask something. No one had ever directly asked her what she wanted – so she said the first thing that came to mind. “Can you carve a peach?”

Such a bizarre answer made Goofy pause for half a second before bursting into charmed laughter, holding his belly with both hands. “A carved peach! Ain't ever thought of that one before! Why, I could carve you a whole peach tree, but just a single peach? Ain't you somethin'!”

Daisy smirked, glad to hear the sound of mirth again. “I think that means yes.”

Minnie was relieved she could give Goofy joy, her own was short lived as she concluded she was missing something very important. “Oh! Oh dear, I don't have any money on me!”

“Wouldn't take it even if ya did.” Goofy held up a hand, his fingers flat out. “I'd never charge a friend, and now we're all pals! You just come back in a little while, and I'll have the best carved peach anyone's ever seen! Gunna be a real beaut! Why, I'm gunna get started right this minute!” He paraded out of the room, whistling a merry tune.

Minnie watched the blue curtain flutter as he left, her tiny hands over her heart. “Mortals are amazing,” she said in a breathless whisper. “He can smile after losing the love of his life.”

“Well, mortals have to be made of stronger stuff than us,” Daisy agreed after snapping her fingers – their mortal disguises vanished, and they were invisible once more. “They can only live for a couple of decades, and lose people all the time. Takes a lot of work to kill a god. I don't think I'd want to live if someone I cared about died.” If something ever happened to her husband – nope, nope, nope, she wasn't even going to entertain that notion. “Okay, that's it, I've had enough of the blues. You know what always cheers my husband up? Sailing!”

Minnie gave Daisy a curt look and the duck realized once again she hadn't thought clearly. “Ah. Right. Maybe not today...but the beach is a close second! We'll think about what we can give Goofy as a reward.” She offered her hand.

“I don't think I could ever give him anything that would be enough,” Minnie lamented, her entire body sagging like a dying flower. She might have curled up on the floor and thought about Goofy's tragedy for millennia to come, but Daisy snatched Minnie's hand and forcibly teleported the two of them to the nearest beach – although without Minnie's immediate mental cooperation, they fell in the water instead of the sand.

Daisy popped her head out first, spitting and sputtering. “If I have to taste salt one more time today, I'm going to lose my mind! Tears are salty, this water's salty, I'm about to be salty!” Minnie's sudden giggling interrupted her ranting, making her temper flare even hotter. “What's so funny? You were crying a minute ago!”

“I'm not t-trying to laugh! S-something's tickling me!” Minnie shrieked, flailing her arms and kicking her legs. Daisy was about to tell her it was merely seaweed, when she too felt tickling fingers on her arms and legs. She tried to demand the assailant stop before she brought the wrath of a demigoddess upon them, but it wasn't really threatening when it was said before fits of high-pitched laughter.

It went on relentlessly until Minnie sunk underwater, being too tickled to keep herself afloat. The sensations suddenly stopped, and when Minnie swam back up, she saw their attackers. “Mermaids!” Daisy snapped, smashing the water with anger fists. “I should've known! You stupid things are always causing trouble!”

“I win!” the chubbier mermaid declared, oblivious to Daisy's fury as she spun in the water. “I win, I win, I win! Now you have to give it to me!”

“Awww, that's not faiiir!” the skinnier mermaid whined, her shoulders heaving up and down as she wailed. “Can we go for two out of three?”

“No, you can't!” Daisy knocked their heads together, making them squeak and roll their empty heads about. “Minnie, don't you ever try to go near these things. Mermaids are just a bunch of ditzes! If we were mortals, we might've drowned!”

“Well, maybe they knew we weren't mortal,” Minnie pointed out. If Goofy had taught them anything, it was clearly not to judge people by first glance. “What were you two doing? Was that some kind of game?”

The girls looked at Minnie and – as usual when people got a first look at her – they were awestruck by her beauty. With wide eyes and stopped hearts, they quickly forgot their squabble and began preening and playing with Minnie's hair and fur. “She's pretty!” “She's sooo pretty!” “Let's dress her up!” “Yes, yes, let's play dress up!”

Daisy rolled her eyes, tempted to give a very loud “I told you so”. But Minnie touched the girls by their shoulders, pushing them back. “She's right, you know. If we weren't goddesses, that little game of yours could have hurt someone! That's not very nice!” How else would they know if someone wasn't going to tell them?

To Daisy's surprise, the mermaids appeared to consider this, though not for the reasons she thought. They looked at each other, concern twisting their scaly features.

“Not very nice? That means not very good!”

“Oh no, we're not good girls!”

“Only good girls get gifts!”

“I want to be a good girl!”

“Me too, me too!”

Minnie smiled, feeling like the smarter one. It felt nice to teach someone else something, and she clapped her hands together. Daisy huffed, but tried to wait patiently as the lesson continued. “Now then,” Minnie instructed, trying to imitate Daisy's confidence. “If you want to be good, an apology works! Just say you're sorry and we'll forgive you.”

“I won't,” Daisy felt obligated to mutter.

“We're sorry!” the mermaids said together.

“Whoever got someone to sink won.”

“And I won.”

“And I have to give her this because I said she could have it if she won.” But as the skinnier mermaid began to take off her golden bracelet, she gasped with an idea. “But an apology with a gift, that's twice as good! I'll be an extra good girl!”

“I'll be an extra good girl too!”

“Maybe Mickey will give us extra gifts because we're extra good!”

As Minnie took the bracelet, noting its lovely features and how it perfectly glinted in the sunlight, she asked, “Who's Mickey?”

“Mickey's our friend.”

“He's a god.” “He's the best god, after Poseidon.”

“But Poseidon doesn't give us gifts for being good.”

“So we like Mickey better.”

“Mickey's the best!”

Minnie assumed she wasn't going to get too much detail from these girls, so she turned to Daisy, and asked the expert on everything. “Who's Mickey?” she asked again. If it was a god, Daisy had to know them.

But for the very first time since Minnie had met Daisy, Daisy didn't have an answer for her. Daisy herself seemed to be bewildered, her hands open and closing with confusion. She knew every single god on Mount Olympus, she knew who ruled over the dead and who ruled over the ocean, she knew the demigods like herself that had mortal parentage, she knew many centaurs and satyrs and favorite mortals, she knew what happened at the beginning of time and the cursed lineage of Zeus and his ancestors.

“I...I've never heard of a god named Mickey!”

[fashicnista-blog]

@tcthinecwnself

[fashicnista-blog]

@tcthinecwnself

otp challenge: [¼] quotes