#and it's their pa quack too

[esspurrr]

ngl i wasnt really thinking about it before but im worried for this election

[thesmpisonfire]

Richas jealousy has always been one of his Main traits. He always felt different and an outsider due to his weird adoption circumstances. He was always compared to sweet lovely Tallulah and to smart Dapper. He tried to kill Tallulah once because Pac and Mike called her princess, he refused to help Forever with his buildings bc Forever kept saying how smart Dapper was, he tried to punch Chay off a cliff because Cellbit gave his fishing rod to Chay, the one Richas had enchanted to gift to his pai, Richas had to sleep on Tilins bed that Quackity gave to him

Richas has such a fear of being left behind and abandoned over a "better" kid. Because he has always been trouble, right? That's where all his jealousy came from, this fear, that only was made truth when Quackity forgot about him

And then there he is, in limbo while trapped in a coma. His Pa Quack appears and he finally remembers about him, but theres Tilin too. And so, Richas can't have the reunion he wished for. He keeps getting brushed aside again and again and again

Richas just wanted his apa back, and now, in his nightmare, Quackity doesn't care

[ducktoonsfanart]

Huey, Dewey and Louie Duck as superheroes - T-Squad - Regular T-Squad vs My version of T-Squad - Quack Pack Week - Supeheroes - Quack Pack, Quack Pack AU and Duckverse

On April 15, 1938, the famous trio appeared in the classic Donald Duck short, called “Donald’s Nephews”, which will change the history of the Duckverse in part.

I know it's been a while, but on the theme of Quack Pack Week on the theme of superheroes, I draw Huey, Dewey and Louie as superheroes, and also to draw them for their birthday, since I can't forget the underrated version of Donald's nephews, one of my favorites and that is the Quack Pack version. Yes, the teenagers Huey, Dewey and Louie like to read a lot of comics about superheroes and they also wanted to be superheroes and in the first episode of Quack Pack "The Really Mighty Ducks" they became superheroes with the help of a machine by Professor Ludwig von Drake and that like T-Squad. T-Squad actually stands for the Tremendously Talented Trio of Truly Trusted Trouble-Shooters and is made up of Donald's nephews. Huey is The Really Incredibly Fast Guy (like Flash), Dewey is Brain Boy (a bit like Megamind, and like Big Brain from Marvel) and Louie is Captain Muscle (like Hulk). And they became superheroes just to disobey their uncle who ordered them to clean their room. This reminds me of something, doesn't it?

However, there is also Huey, Dewey and Louie from the Quack Pack as my version of the T-Squad, i.e. my superhero imitation for the triplets. They too like to read comics and love superheroes, but they became superheroes in a different way through their connections with their role models, such as Darkwing Duck, Gizmoduck and Duck Avenger (Paperinik), the patrons of Duckburg and St. Canard. If you know from my older drawings Huey is Red Shadow (the inspiration is taken from Shadow and Darkwing Duck), Dewey is Blue Cyclops or Techno Duck (the inspiration is taken from Cyclops from X-men, Ironman and Gizmoduck) and Louie is Green Avenger or Paperinik Junior (inspiration certainly taken from Duck Avenger, but partly from Spiderman, Batman and Green Lantern). Granted, I haven't made special versions for them yet, but I'm definitely working on it, and they'll be in my fanfictions in the future since that's how I envision them, and it's part of my Quack Pack AU.

However, I drew both versions of the T-Squad to show some comparisons and similarities, and admittedly there are differences between them. Both versions of Huey don't really get along, and both versions of Dewey marvel at each other, while both versions of Louie like to show off their muscles. Well Louie as the Green Avenger doesn't have very strong muscles, but he tries to be. At the end there will be a poll as to which version of T-Squad is better, the official one from Quack Pack or mine or both. And yes, I drew as a background behind them the Money Bin, since they are the Duckburg defenders, even though I know Scrooge's vault was not a Quack Pack, it still is in my version of a Quack Pack. By the way, I kind of prefer my version, and let's not forget the song about it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dE7U0RqRLD4

I just wonder where they would join, the Justice Ducks (the group led by Darkwing Duck) or the Ultraheroes (led by Duck Avenger (Paperinik)) or if they have their own group like the Teen Titans? Also this drawing is intended since this drawing is dedicated to the given topic. @quackpackweek

I hope you like this drawing and this idea of Donald's nephews as superheroes (besides the Quack Pack, Donald's nephews were the only superheroes in a few comics) and feel free to like and reblog this if you're a fan of Donald's nephews and superheroes! I just ask that you don't use these same ideas of mine without mentioning me and without my permission, in terms of my version of a superhero for triplets. And happy belated birthday to the best trio!

[factorialsotherfandoms]

(Backtracking to day 13, general warnings for like injury, infection, horrific care of it, cannibalism, me having not watched the relevant source material so I'm coming at this from a 'QSMP backstory' not a 'FI slight AU' angle (I'm told in FI canon Pac doesn't loose his leg, which is what I mean by slight AU). But if that's all good with you, enjoy! ... And, poor Mike.)

Human mouths are, it turns out, filthy. Despite their best efforts it takes a day for infection to become apparent, and another two because Pac is near entirely lost to fever and delirium.

It took another five hours before Mike accepts that they need, if not help, then at least more equipment than he has to hand, two thirds of the way home from jail.

They can't go to a hospital. Hospitals will ask questions like "why are there human teeth marks" and "why didn't you call an ambulance" and "why do you look like and have the names of the wanted criminals escaped from a max security prison all over the news". Which leaves... Well, it leaves them here.

Pac, delirious and barely conscious, lying on the kitchen table of a back alley doctor. Mike, with a bone saw and a needle, because fresh out of prison all they can afford is to borrow somewhere mostly clean and some tools, not actual expertise.

It's fine, it's fine, Mike's done this before.

Sort of.

Not really.

... To a corpse.

(He had to learn anatomy /somehow/.)

The quack, in his generosity, or perhaps not wanting to deal with a corpse, did leave them already measured anesthetic, antibiotics, and gave Mike a run down of what he needed to do. His sister and assistant is a little more gracious, or maybe a little sweet on them, or maybe a little too into the gore, because she is willing to provide an extra pair of hands and a little expertise to keep the surgery going smoothly.

She asks him if he's ready. Mike swallows, and nods, and holds Pac's hand as they put him to sleep.

---

Hours later, Pac is still out. The quack and his sister took everything the two owned and, once the bleeding was definitely stopped and Pac full of antibiotics, tossed both of them to the street.

Mike found them shelter under some old awnings, and keeps them safe for the night. He curled Pac into his lap, keeping the bandages from the filthy floor, and his friend's head against his chest. He can only pray the infection had not spread into Pac's blood, and that no new one sees fit to set in.

Their base of operations is, thankfully, uncomprimised, or at least it was last Mike knew. If they can get to the river, and then a boat upstream... It's a fair distance, but Mike can row that far. If it means saving Pac, he will.

Not tonight, though, not right now; all around them thunder roars, and rain splashes up and off the ground.

They can't wait as long as morning, though - Pac needs a bed, somewhere warm, and Mike only stole enough bandages to last until tomorrow.

In his arms Pac stirs, and Mike hushes him back to sleep as best he can. He manages it, but Pac is crying in his sleep.

Painkillers, right, the quack didn't sell them painkillers. Not Mike's forte - Pac's always been better with the chemistry set - but they have some back home.

What else back home... Their tools, their gadgets, their machinery - it will be months before Pac can use it, if he even survives, but Mike is already thinking through thoughts of prosthetics and wheelchairs and any changes that need made. They can't get hospital ones for much the same reason Mike /had to cut off his own friend's leg/, but maybe that's better, a custom one, suited to their adventures and exploits. Maybe Pac loosing the leg is better, when the bite had already taken too much for the muscles to ever recover.

(What is he thinking? Of course Pac will survive, Pac has to survive, and of course this isn't better, huddled under an awning in a thunderstorm and just trying to last the night.)

In thoughts of numbers and schematics and artificial limbs Mike drifts, never quiet sleeping, always there.

---

Pac wakes thrice on their way upriver, passing out from the pain each time. The third time Mike, exhausted, fails to notice quickly enough - instead of giving his friend water he's met with screaming and thrashing, and ripped stitches. For a few terrifying moments the blood starts cascading once again, until Mike can swallow down the fear and pin the flesh together again.

He won't be able to a third time. There's no good places to shove the needle left.

Somehow, they make it. Mike drags Pac onto the shore, and cuts the stolen boat loose. Then he picks him up, over the shoulders because any other way leaves them both unsteady, and gets him inside.

Bed first, then painkillers - at least he remembers how to work an IV. Mike barely even thinks as he forces painkillers, antibiotics, fluids into Pac's veins, frowning at how cold he feels.

Once he's sure he will be okay left alone for a moment, Mike runs to turn the heating on. It has always been a bit finicky, and time away has only made it worse.

Eventually he gets it going, abandons the basement to the heater and drags himself back upstairs.

Maybe, maybe, he can lock up and pass out on the couch for twenty minutes... Surely if he managed the night and the boat trip Pac will last twenty minutes?

The scream implies no.

Adrenaline gives Mike the strength to get back to Pac, brandishing the wrench he had still been holding like an actual weapon. What he finds is no intruder, but Pac awake, but distant, feverish and screaming and panicking.

Mike drops the wrench, and grabs his hands instead.

"Pac!" he almost yells, as though saying anything will help. "Calm down!"

Something of Pac must be less delirious than Mike thought, as the tears stutter for a moment. When they come back quieter Pac all but flings himself at Mike, mumbling his name again, and again, and again.

Mike pulls Pac closer, holding him tight for as long as he dares.

When he pulls away Pac whines, the noise growing more distressed as Mike settles him back onto the pillow.

"I need to get your bandages," Mike as good as scolds him. "It's going to get even worse if I don't."

"Mike," Pac manages to whine. "Mike... It hurts."

"Well you did get eaten," Mike snaps back. He tries not to, he really does, but its been so long since he slept...

From Pac's panicked glances around the room, it was entirely the wrong thing to say.

"He's not here," Mike says. "We left him. Bandages."

He doesn't stop talking there, though, instead he talks Pac through what he's doing - half to comfort, half to remind himself what he's doing. Take off the bandages, clean the wound, apply dressings, ignore the confused giggling from Pac, rewrap the severed leg, tuck the blankets back up and around, try to leave and have his sleeve caught instead.

It's fine.

Mike didn't really want to leave anyway.

"Fine," with a sigh he doesn't quite mean he climbs up on the bed, taking Pac's less injured side. It's against medical advice, but they only have the one and, well, what of the last few days /hasn't/ been against medical advice?

Pac shoves his face into Mike's neck, and Mike catches him.

Sweaty, feverish, still very, very sick...

Mike knows there is more he should do before he rests, but it's been so long since he slept...

He'll work it out when he wakes up. This close, if anything goes wrong, he hopes he'll wake up to it too.

"Goodnight Pac," he manages.

He chooses to believe that the mumbled response is 'goodnight Mike' in response, and he chooses to believe that they will get through this, too.

[milfweirdal]

(quiet background laughter)! (wild guitar solo and intense drumming) (cheery tooting) WELL. I'm not the brightest crayon, in the boooxxx. (chaotic and playful melody) eeeEEveryone says I'm dumber, than a bag of roo-oocks. (chaotic and playful melody) (stanky slap bass) I barely even know… how to put on my own pa-ANts!! But I'm a genius in France (YEAH), genius in France (guitar squeal) genius in Fraaannce! (drumroll) Hoom chaka laka hoom chaka laka hoom chaka! I may not be the sharpest hunk of chee-ee-ese… (chaotic and playful melody) I got a negative number on my Ess Ay Teesssss… (chaotic and playful melody) (wibbling synth) I'm not good lookin'!! and I - don't know how to da-AANce! ButneverthelessandinspiteoftheevidenceIamstillwidelyconsideredtobe a genius in France, genius in France, genius in FRAAANCE! (electronic splart) (ding) (blibilbiliblbi) (twinklewtwinkletwinkle) (DONG) (click) (quack) (chaotic brass honking) People say I'm a geek, a moronic little freak, an annoying pipsqueak with an unfortunate physiiiiique! (jaunty bassline) If I was any dumber… they'd have to water-me-twice a WEEEEEEEK! (drum fill) But when the Mademoiselles see me, they all swoon and shriek (brass honk) they dig my mystique, they say I'm c'est magnifique (brass honk) When I'm in Par-ee, (suddenly accordioning Frenchly) I'm the chiiiiiic-est of the chiiiiiiic! (drum fill) They love my body odor and my bad toupee, they love my stripey shirt and my stupid beret. And when I'm sipping (carefree guitar riff) on a Perrieeeee-e-e-er (bow! dwey doo dwey doo! bow! dwey doo dwey doo!) in some café down in St. Tropeeee-e-e-ez, it's hard to keep the fans at bay! (yeah.) They say, "SIGN MY POODLE. SIL-VOUS PLAAAAIT? SIGN MY POODLE. SIL-VOUS PLAAAAIT?” Hemeneneh humeneneh himeneneh homeneneh POODLE. POODLE. (fucknasty guitar solo) (weird rattley instrument) (low tone) Folks in my hometooown… think I'm a fooool… Got too much chloriiiine… in my gene pooool. (normal tone) A few peas short of a casserole? (drum fill) A few buttons missing on my remote control?! (low quiet background screech) A few fries short of a happy meal? (drum fill) I couldn't pour water out of a boot - with instructions on the heel! Instructions on the heeeeeeel? Instructions on the heel. (drum fill) (jangly carefree guitar) But when I'm in Provence, I get free croissants! (weirdly echoey dog bark) Yeah, I'm the guy every French lady wants! And if you ask 'em why, you're bound to get this respoOOONSE! (He's a genius in France, genius in France!!) That's right! (He's a genius in France, genius in France!!) You know it! (He's a genius in France, genius in France, genius in FRAAANCE!) (drum fill) (electronic squimp and blooping) I'm not the brightest buuulb on the Christmas treeeee… (chaotic and playful melody) But the folks in France, they don't seem to agree… (chaotic and playful melody) (oddly seductive tone of voice) They say, "Bonjour, Monsieur…” (normal tone) would you take ze picture with meeee?!" I say, "Ouuuii, ouuuuiiii". That's right, I say, "Ouuuui, ouiiiii". "Ouuuuiiii, ouuuuiiii". He says, "Ouuuuuiii, ouuuuiiiiii…" I'm dumber than a box of hair~! But those Frenchies don't seem to care~! Don't know why, mon frère, but they love me there. I'm a genius in France! (YEAH) I'm a genius in France! (wah-wah guitar riff) Gonna make a big splash when I show up in Ca-A-A-Annes! Gonna make those Frenchies scream: "You ze man, you ze man, you ze man!!" Like a fine Renooiirr (OOOIRRRRR), I've got that je ne sais quoooiii (QUOIIIIIIII), Like a fine Renooiirr (Oooh-la-laa!) I've got that je – ne - sais - quoi quoi-quoi quoi-quoooiii!! (da-dey-dey) oo-we-ooooooo~ (yeah) Quoi quoi-quoi quoi-quoooiii!! (da-dey-dey) oo-we-ooooooo~ (di-di di di) Bow diddy bow di bow di bow bow diddy bow diddy bow di bow di bow bow diddy bowwww. (snort snort-snort) (gong and warbling synth) I'm a taco short of a combo plate, but by some twist of fate, all the Frogs think I'm great. Oh, the men all faint and the women scream, they like me more than heavy cream. When I'm in Versailles, I'm a popular guy. My oh my, I'm as French as apple pie! (APPLE PIIIEE!) They think I'm awfully witty, a riot and a half. When I tell a stupid joke, they laugh (HONH HONH HONH HONH HONH) and laugh (HONH HONH HONH HONH HONH HONHHH). People in France have lots of attituuude. They're snotty and rude, they like disgusting foooood. But when they see me, they just come unGLUUUUUUED! They think that I-am-one-happening DUUUUDE! Bowm ba-ba bowm ba bowm ba bowm - I'm about as sharp as a bowling ball. But they like me better than Charles de Gaulle. Entre nous, it's very true. The room temperature's, higher than my IQ. But they love me more than Gerard Depardiiieeuuuu… How did this happen? I don't have a clue. (YEAHH.) (more fucknasty bass and guitar) Well, I'm not the quickest tractor on the faaa-arm… (normal brass honking) I don't have any skills or grace - or chaaarrm… (chaotic brass honking) And most people look at me… like I'm all covered with ants… but I'm a genius in France (YEAH!), genius in France (guitar squeal) genius in Fraaance!! (drum fill) (cheerful banjo riffing) And I'm never goin' back, I'm never goin' back! I'm nevernevernevernever goin' back home again! I'm tearin' up my return flight ticket. Gonna tell the folks back home where they can stick it! 'Cause I'm never goin' back, I'm never goin' back, I'm nevveeeer gooooin' baaaack. The girls back home never gave me a chance. But I sho' 'nuff got them Frogs in some kinda trance. And I'm aware that it's a most improbable - circumstaaance, but GREAT GOOGLY MOOGLY, I'm a genius in France. (descending guitar riff) Every Frenchie that I meet. Just can't wait to kiss my feet. Get in line, pucker up, tout suite! Bowm diddy bowm diddy bowm diddy. I'm gettin' even more famous by the hour. I'm stuffed with pastries and drunk with power. Now they're puttin' up my statue by the Eiffel Tower…. (brass honking) A little more to the left, booooys, a little more to the leeeeft. A little more to the left, boys, a little more to the leeft~. (brass honking) (extended guitar and horns solo) (rattling and ringing) I'm the biggest dork there is alii-iiive! (chaotic and playful melody) My mom picked out my clothes for me…. 'til I was thirty-fiiiive! (chaotic and playful melody) And I forgot to mention!!! I'm not even welcome at the Star Trek convention!!! But the Frenchies think - that my poop don't stink - I'm a genius in FraaaaaAAAANNNCEEE? (final guitar solo) (in the smuggest tone of voice possible) Say, would you pass the Grey Poupon? Merci beaucoup!

[minyboy]

Time to go the final fast in this last collage of Sonic the Hedgehog. Now that does not mean I'm done making new illustrations like this, it's just that the collage has gotten far too big. I have 198 faces here, I think it's complete. So thank you all very much for the support and suggestions, it has helped out greatly. See you all around.

list of all the characters, starting from the top left corner, going left to right Row 1: Rosy the Rascal, Iron Queen, Longclaw, Earthia, Rosie the Woodchuck, Santa Claus, Sonia Acorn, Ari the Ram, Chocola, Fockewulf the Wolf, Black Narcissus, Mina Mongoose, The Enchantress, Bernadette the Hedgehog, Iblis, Remington, Sara Row 2: Jason, Pale Bayleaf, Coral the Betta, Ifrit, Master Zik, Tumble, Tiara Boobowski, Zazz, Whisper the Wolf, Eggrobo, Lupe the Wolf, Bean the Dynamite, Agent Stone, Tails Doll, Commander, Black Death, Dark Enerjak Row 3: Mecha Sonic, Galaxina, Tom Wachowski, Mammoth Mogul, Breezie the Hedgehog, Old Owl Man, Professor Gerald Robotnik, Void, Julie-Su, D-Fektx, Dr. Eggman Nega, Nicole the Holo-Lynx, Uncle Chuck, Merlina the Wizard, Mimic, Yellow Zelkova, Princess Undina Row 4: Sealia the Seal, Omochao, Nigel Acorn, Lyric, Shade the Echidna, Cream the Rabbit, Vector the Crocodile, Emerl, Coconuts, Chip, King Arthur, chaos, E-123 Omega, Shard the Metal Sonic, Froggy, Kragok, Nicolette the Weasel Row 5: Tommy Turtle, Manik Acorn, Ixis Naugus, Lumina Flowlight, Captain Whisker, Espio the Chameleon, Mighty the Armadillo, Sonic The Hedgehog, Tails, Dr. Eggman, Silver The Hedgehog, Big the Cat, Imperator Ix, Marine the Raccoon, Helen, Dremagen, Pearly the Manta Ray Row 6: Saffron Bee, Carrotia the Rabbit, Decoe, Storm the Albatross, Tikal, Black Doom, Sally Acorn, Metal Sonic, Manic the Hedgehog, Orbot, Zooey, Captain Metal, G-merl, Monica Row 7: Razor the Shark, Blackbot the Pirate, Charlie, Professor Pickle, Bunnie Rabbot, Yacker, Blaze the Cat, Rouge the Bat, Snively, Eclipse the Darkling, Dingo, Mark the Tapir, Bearenger the Bear, Lindsey Row 8: Birdie, Red Pine, SCR-HD, Cosmo, Sticks the Badger, Cheese the Chao, Charmy Bee, Knuckles the Echidna, Shadow the Hedgehog, Amy Rose, Jet The hawk, Infinite, Zavok, Fleetway (Iblis), Bocoe, Jewel the Beetle, Aquarius Row 9: Topaz, Iron King, Robotnik Jr., Maria Robotnik, Cubot, Antoine D'Coolette, Scourge the Hedgehog, Ray the Flying Squirrel, Rotor the Walrus, Scratch, Sonia the Hedgehog, Grounder, Fang the Sniper, Honey The Cat, Bokkun, Grand Chief Whip, Davy Sprocket Row 10: Crusher the Chao, Kingape, Dodon Pa, Dr. Starline, Mephiles the Dark, Queen Aleena, Heavy the Robot, Lien-Da, Wave the Swallow, Dark Gaia, Fiona the Fox, Sleet, Bomb, Vanilla Rabbit, Shahra, Nominatus, Melody Prower Row 11: Perci the Bandicoot, Chuck Thorndyke, Professor Von Schlemmer, Zomom, Erazor Djinn, Metal Knuckles, Chris, Belle the Tinkerer, Bark the Polar Bear, Zor, Rough, Tangle the Lemur, Zeena, Wendy Witchcart, Great Battle Kukku, Heavy King, Doctor Quack Row 12: Sage, Surge the Tenrec, The President, Lara-Su, Jules Hedgehog, Dulcy the Dragon, Momma Robotnik, Grimer Wormtongue, Dark OaK, Dave the Intern, Time Eater, Ben Muttski, Sir Connery, Pachacamac, Feist, Lord Hood, Frances

[satans-cake]

Dog goes "woof" Cat goes "meow" Bird goes "tweet" And mouse goes "squeek" Cow goes "moo" Frog goes "croak" And the elephant goes "toot" Ducks say "quack" And fish go "blub" And the seal goes "ow ow ow" But there's one sound That no one knows What does the fox say? "Ring-ding-ding-ding-dingeringeding! Gering-ding-ding-ding-dingeringeding! Gering-ding-ding-ding-dingeringeding!" What the fox say? "Wa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pow! Wa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pow! Wa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pow!" What the fox say? "Hatee-hatee-hatee-ho! Hatee-hatee-hatee-ho! Hatee-hatee-hatee-ho!" What the fox say? "Joff-tchoff-tchoffo-tchoffo-tchoff! Tchoff-tchoff-tchoffo-tchoffo-tchoff! Joff-tchoff-tchoffo-tchoffo-tchoff!" What the fox say? Big blue eyes Pointy nose Chasing mice And digging holes Tiny paws Up the hill Suddenly you're standing still Your fur is red So beautiful Like an angel in disguise But if you meet A friendly horse Will you communicate by Mo-o-o-o-orse? Mo-o-o-o-orse? Mo-o-o-o-orse? How will you speak to that Ho-o-o-o-orse? Ho-o-o-o-orse? Ho-o-o-o-orse? What does the fox say? "Jacha-chacha-chacha-chow! Chacha-chacha-chacha-chow! Chacha-chacha-chacha-chow!" What the fox say? "Fraka-kaka-kaka-kaka-kow! Fraka-kaka-kaka-kaka-kow! Fraka-kaka-kaka-kaka-kow!" What the fox say? "A-hee-ahee ha-hee! A-hee-ahee ha-hee! A-hee-ahee ha-hee!" What the fox say? "A-oo-oo-oo-ooo! Woo-oo-oo-ooo!" What does the fox say? The secret of the fox Ancient mystery Somewhere deep in the woods I know you're hiding What is your sound? Will we ever know? Will always be a mystery What do you say? You're my guardian angel Hiding in the woods What is your sound? (Wa-wa-way-do, wub-wid-bid-dum-way-do, wa-wa-way-do) Will we ever know? (Bay-budabud-dum-bam) I want to (Mama-dum-day-do) I want to, I want to know! (Abay-ba-da bum-bum bay-do)

NOT YOU TOO

[moonlightserenadeeznutz]

Remus shows Sirius around Wales (part 3)

I’m afraid there’s a lot of Welsh in this chapter, but as usual, translations are at the end! (And I’m getting better at writing out the pronunciation). Hope you enjoy!

For @daylily-evans

(Part 1)

(Part 2)

~ The next morning, Sirius awoke before Remus. He usually always did. Moony wasn’t a morning person, and Padfoot was. A strip of sunlight highlighted the bed. They’d both fallen asleep in each other’s arms and had remained in pretty much the same position throughout the night. And while Sirius was eager to get up and start the day, he was also perfectly content to stay where he was, with Remus’s arm lying across his chest, the boy snoring lightly every so often. Sirius liked looking at him.

He was, however, slightly- instinctually- nervy. Even though it had been three years since he’d set foot in Grimmauld Place, he still expected to be woken abruptly by someone- most likely his mother- barging into his bedroom without knocking. While Sirius’s eyes were fixed on a lock of brown hair that had fallen over Remus’s eyelid, his ears were straining for any outside noise, any movement from the landing, that would warn him to quickly jump out of Remus’s bed and back into his own. But none came. A late start must have run in the family.

Sirius brushed the lock of hair away, tucking it behind Remus’s ear, and as he did so, Remus’s breathing grew quieter, almost inaudible. An indication that he was waking up. Sirius kissed him. When he pulled away, he saw Remus looking at him with half-lidded eyes.

“How do you say good morning in Welsh?” Asked Sirius, in no more than a murmur.

“Bore da,” replied Remus, his voice thick with sleep. Sirius kissed him.

“Bore da, carru.”

Breakfast was toast and cereal. Lyall didn’t join them at the table.

“He works late,” explained Remus. “Sometimes he sleeps till almost midday.” Sirius chuckled.

“Like father like son,” he said, eating a spoonful of now soggy cornflakes.

“Oh, Remus, I hope you’re not staying up so late,” reprimanded Hope, who was sitting at the table with them, reading the paper with her second cup of coffee.

“No, mam,” Remus sighed, the two boys knowing full well that he was lying.

“So, what are you two planning on doing today?” Hope continued, not taking her eyes off whichever article had caught her interest.

“I’m gonna show Sirius around. See the village maybe.”

“Oh that’s nice. You should visit Mrs. Hughes, she’d love to see you.”

“Yes, Remus, you really must introduce me to this Mrs. Hughes. I’m dying to meet her. I can already feel a connection.” Remus simply smiled and rolled his eyes.

~

The sun was bright, although it wasn’t throwing off a lot of heat in the early morning hours, so Remus and Sirius walked side by side wearing jackets and scarves. They were ambling down the lane outside Remus’s house, with the birds singing. It was the only noise they could hear. Sirius had never felt more relaxed in his life.

The first stop on Remus’s tour was a little stream that stood at the end of a wall-lined alleyway. Brambles grew all over the walls and Sirius noticed clusters of blackberries hidden among the leaves. Remus picked a few.

“I used to come down here when I was a kid,” began Remus. “I’d pick the blackberries and wash them in the stream, then eat them with my feet in the water.” Sirius picked some himself, and the two made their way towards the stream, the gentle sound of the water reaching their ears as they drew nearer. The two banks of the stream were connected by a stone bridge. Sirius looked over the side at the water lapping over the stones and pebbles, reflecting the sunlight. Along with the birdsong, the whole setting was completely idyllic. He knew places like this existed in the UK, but he’d never seen them before. He’d spent his whole life in the dark, gloomy street of Grimmauld Place, where he’d never even met his neighbours because they were muggles, and he’d therefore been banned from going near them. Besides, his muggle neighbours didn’t even know that he or his house even existed.

The Potter’s house too, while much nicer and far more friendly than Grimmauld Place could ever dream of being, and while it too was tucked away in the countryside, it still felt rather cut off, and the countryside felt... empty.

But here... here it felt like a community, and Sirius had yet to even meet another person.

“S’mae, Remus!” Said a woman, suddenly breaking the silence. She was walking past with some shopping bags. She only looked around forty, maybe fifty years old, but she dressed like someone much older: short blonde hair curled tightly into ringlets, and a long, flowery skirt with a matching beige blouse.

“S’mae, Mrs. Cooper,” replied Remus. “Ti’n iawn?”

“Rwy’n iawn, diolch. Ywyt ti newydd ddychwelyd o'r ysgol?”

“Ydw.”

“Pwy yw dy ffrind?”

“This is Sirius,” said Remus, switching back to English to include Sirius in the conversation. “He’s a friend from school. He’s English.”

“Oh, how awful for you!” Mrs. Copper called to him, in the thick Welsh accent that Sirius simply loved. Sirius smiled good-naturedly. “Whereabouts in England are you from?”

“Islington,” Sirius replied. “It’s in London.”

“I went to London once. Very loud. Very bright.” Sirius nodded. Mrs. Cooper began to walk on. “I’d best be off. Don’t want the milk to turn.” She held up one of her shopping bags, indicating that there was some milk inside. “See you, loves.”

“Hwyl!” Called Remus. Sirius repeated him. They watched her leave, and Sirius sat down upon the bridge. It had railings on either side as barriers, and Sirius put his legs through two gaps in the bars so they swung over the side. A duck came floating past, quacking every so often. Sirius threw the blackberries that he still had in his hand into the water for it to eat. Remus copied him.

“It’s so... quaint here,” observed Sirius eventually. “And I swear I mean that in the best way possible.” Remus threw another blackberry. The duck dived headfirst into the water to pick it up.

“Yes, well... not much has really changed since the fifties. Forties even. This place wasn’t much affected by either of the muggle wars, and progress isn’t exactly rife in the north-west Welsh countryside. It’s like a time warp here.” He looked almost sad, but Sirius couldn’t understand why. Of course, he knew what it was like to deal with people who were stuck in their ways, and their time, and their ancestors’ time, but the people here seemed nice enough. And even so, at that moment, Sirius felt that throwing blackberries at a duck and sitting next to his best friend on a bridge was all he needed in life.

“You know...” he began. “I never saw myself as a countryside person. Too quiet and boring. I thought of myself as more of a city person. All loud and bright like Mrs. Cooper said. But... I don’t know... I can see myself living here. With you.” Remus looked at him.

“That’d be nice...” A silence passed before Remus slapped his palms on the railings. “Come on,” he instructed, his voice louder and more confident. “Lots to see!” He started to walk ahead, and Sirius stood up to follow, grinning.

“Ooh, Moony. I like a man who can take charge.”

~

The two walked a few more miles until they reached the village. It was a nice place. Quaint. The shops all looked like cottages, and trees lined the street, some of the foliage entangled with bunting. People were milling about with shopping bags and buggies and bikes. The shop names were all in Welsh, as were the signs, but they all had the English translations printed underneath in small lettering, so Sirius didn’t have to pester Remus every five minutes.

Remus eventually stopped outside a shop that Sirius recognised: chairs and tables sat underneath a frilled, baby pink canopy. Remus held out his arm.

“Mrs. Hughes’s cake shop,” he announced. Sirius clapped his hands excitedly. A bell tinkled as the door opened, and a short, plump lady with curly dark hair appeared from within an adjoining room. She spotted Remus and smiled brightly.

“Remus! Mae wedi bod cyhyd! Sut mae, cariad? Edrych pa mor denau ywyt ti! Ywyt ti wedi bod yn bwyta?” She drew him into a hug, and Sirius was starting to get the impression that Remus was well-liked in his village. This was of no surprise to Sirius. What wasn’t there to like about his friend?

“S’mae Mrs. Hughes. Mae’n dda eich gweld chi.” Mrs. Hughes stepped back finally and turned to Sirius.

“Bore da. Nid wyf wedi eich gweld o gwmpas yma o'r blaen. Ydych chi’n ffrind i Remus?” Sirius blinked awkwardly, as Remus quickly cut in.

“Nid yw’n siarad Cymraeg. Mae’n dod o Llogr. Ei enw yw Sirius.”

“Oh... hello. It’s nice to meet you,” she said, rather slowly, as if she was concentrating on each word.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. Hughes.” She smiled and nodded, before quickly returning behind the counter.

“Ywyt ti dau newydd gyrraedd?” She asked, taking out a tray of cupcakes from behind the glass and rearranging them into neat little rows. They all had chocolate frosting on them, and they looked delicious. Sirius couldn’t help but stare rather longingly.

“Ydyn. Fe gyrhaeddon ni nôl ddoe i.”

“Taith braf?”

“Oedd, diolch.” Remus saw that Sirius was struggling to participate, so Remus attempted to involve him in the conversation. “Mae Sirius yn fy mlwyddyn yn yr ysgol,” he said to Mrs. Hughes, who turned back to Sirius with interest.

“Wyt ti’n hoffi’r ysgol?”

“She asked if you like school.”

“Oh! Yes, very much. It’s fun.” Remus quickly translated.

“Hwyl!” Mrs. Hughes remarked. “Yn fy niwrnod, roedd ysgolion yn ymwneud â dysgu. Gwaharddwyd hwyl.”

“She says schools shouldn’t be fun.”

“Well, they weren’t till I arrived.” Sirius grinned as Remus rolled his eyes and reluctantly translated. Mrs. Hughes let out a bark of a laugh.

“Ryw’n hoffi ti!”

“She likes you.” 

“I like you too, Mrs. Hughes.” Mrs Hughes giggled, not needing Remus to translate. She brought out a tray of small but very tasty looking muffins. She picked up two and held them out.

“Am ddim i'm dau fachgen!” She said, as Remus went to take them. He handed one to Sirius.

“Diolch, Mrs. Hughes!” Said Remus. Sirius repeated him, and the two left the shop, walking out into the sunshine, muffins in hand. Sirius quickly took a bite.

“Shit, Remus,” he began, having barely swallowed his mouthful of muffin. “I may have to ditch you and run off with Mrs. Hughes instead.” Remus laughed.

“You’d have to learn Welsh first.”

“No need. I will happily sit in silence as she brings me muffins everyday. No Welsh required.”

~

Sirius didn’t want the day to end, but he was content in the thought that he’d wake up tomorrow and they could do it all again, and the next day, and the next, until the holidays ended. He couldn’t believe that Remus hardly talked about this place. If he was Remus, he’d never shut up about it. He almost felt angry. He hated his house, his street, his parents. He never wanted to talk about them. He was happy to forget all about them. Remus had a lovely house, and a lovely street and lovely parents. So why did he pretend otherwise?

��Do you think you’ll live here when you’re older?” Asked Sirius. They were sitting on a wall that bricked in a nice green. The green was filled with trees and a little playground area. As the sun grew lower and three o’clock rolled around, a few children started to filter into the playground, laughing and carefree after what must have been their last day at school. Hogwarts finished a day early so everyone had a chance to prepare for their journey back on the Express.

Remus pondered Sirius’s question.

“I don’t know,” he said eventually. “It is nice. And I do love Wales, of course I do...”

“But?”

“I don’t know,” seemed to be his final answer. But Sirius was too curious to let it drop so soon.

“But everyone here seems to love you. Mrs. Hughes. That lady with the shopping bags. Don’t you like it here?”

“The people are nice, but they talk. They talk about me. They pretend otherwise, but I know they have their own rumours. About why I go off to boarding school every year. Why I have scars on my face. Why...”

“Why what?”

“My mother and I are very close. They know that.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Remus looked at him steadily.

“You know what they say about boys who are close to their mothers.”

“Oh.” The two fell silent. Until Remus decided to speak again.

“In the real world, it’s 1976. Here it’s 1953. The people say good morning and bake you muffins and drink tea with their neighbours, but that’s about all you can do. You’re either married or widowed, and your kids go to the local school and leave the village when they’re eighteen to go off to London, or Cardiff, or some big city that they can write about to their families. I don’t fit in here. Not really. And I think the people know that. They’re nice to me because they feel sorry for me. Maybe not Mrs. Hughes. She really is nice. But I can’t stay just for Mrs. Hughes, can I?” Remus wanted to end his little speech on a light-hearted note, and usually Sirius would take the cue, grin and say “I would.” But he was letting Remus’s words sink in, and suddenly feeling guilty about his previous anger. Yes, Remus’s life was completely different to his, but scratch the surface and they were still in the same boat. Outcasts in a conformist society, waiting for the day they could leave and never come back. 

Remus jumped down from the wall.

“Come on. We can head back and I can show you the TV set if you want.” Sirius jumped down after him, realising that Remus was keen to change the subject. Sirius permitted him to.

“I’d forgotten about that. I’d love to see it.”

~ Welsh translation:

Bore da (b-oar-reh d-ah): Good morning

Ti’n iawn? (Tin y-ow-n): How are you? (Informal)

Rwy’n iawn, diolch (R-ooh-n y-ow-n dee-ol-kh): I’m well, thanks

Ywyt ti newydd ddychwelyd o'r ysgol? (Ow-eet tee neh-with th*-uh-kh-wel-eed or ee-sg-ol): Have you just returned from school?

Ydw (uh-doo): Yes

Pwy yw dy ffrind?: (p-wih ee**-oo d-ee fr-ih-nd): Who’s your friend?

Hwyl! (H-w-eel): Bye/Goodbye

Mae wedi bod cyhyd! (M-eye weh-dee bod kuh-heed): It’s been ages!

Sut mae, cariad? (Sit m-eye, kah-ree-ad): How are you, sweetheart?

Edrych pa mor denau ywyt ti! (Eh-dr-ee-kh pa m-oar deh-n-eye ow-eet tee): Look at how thin you are!

Ywyt ti wedi bod yn bwyta (ow-eet tee weh-dee bod ee-n b-oo***-ee-ta): Have you been eating?

Mae’n dda eich gweld chi (m-eye-n th-ah ay-kh gw-eld kh-ih): It’s good to see you.

Nid wyf wedi eich gweld o gwmpas yma o'r blaen. (N-ih-d oo-ee-v weh-dee ay-kh gweld oh g-oo-mp-ah-s ee-ma or bl-eye-n): I haven’t seen you around here before.

Ydych chi’n ffrind i Remus? (Uh-dih-kh kh-ih-n f-rih-nd ih Remus): Are you a friend of Remus?

Nid yw’n siarad Cymraeg. (Nid ee-oo-n sha-rad Cum-r-eye-g): He doesn’t speak Welsh.

Mae’n dod o Llogr. (M-eye-n dod o Ll-oh-gr): He’s from England.

Ei enw yw Sirius. (Ay en-oo ee-oo Sirius): His name’s Sirius.

Ywyt ti dau newydd gyrraedd? (Ow-eet tee d-eye neh-with g-uh-r-eye-th): Have you to just got back?

Ydyn (Uh-deen): Yes

Fe gyrhaeddon ni nôl ddoe i. (F-eh g-uh-rh-eye-th-on nee n-uh-l th-oi ee): We got back yesterday.

Taith braf? (T-ay-th b-rah-v): Nice journey?

Oedd, diolch (oi-th dee-ol-kh): Yes, thanks

Mae Sirius yn fy mlwyddyn yn yr ysgol (m-eye Sirius ee-n f-ee ml-oo-uh-th-een ee-n ee-r ee-sgol):  Sirius is in my year at school.

Wyt ti’n hoffi ysgol? (Wih-tin h-oh-f-ee ee-sgol): Do you like school?

Hwyl! (H-w-eel): Fun!

Yn fy niwrnod, roedd ysgolion yn ymwneud â dysgu. (ee-n f-ee nih-wr-nod, r-oi-th ee-sgol-ee-on ee-n ee-m-wn-ay-d ah**** d-uh-sg-ee): In my days, schools were about learning.

Gwaharddwyd hwyl. (G-wa-har-th-wih-d h-w-eel): Fun was banned.

Rywn hoffi ti! (R-ew-n hoh-f-ee tee): I like you!

Am ddim i'm dau fachgen (Ah-m th-im im d-eye vah-kh-g-en): Free for my two boys

*pronounced th as in that or this

**very short ee; yw sounds very similar to yew.

***short oo

****long ah

Bonus British translation:

Buggies: Strollers

[newstfionline]

Monday, January 25, 2021

Americans remain sorely divided as Biden’s quest for unity begins (Washington Post) The other day, Stu Ross, a retired elementary school teacher, threw his neighbor out of his townhouse in Harrisburg, Pa. The guy had said he saw nothing wrong with the attack on the U.S. Capitol. The two haven’t spoken since. So when Ross heard President Joe Biden’s Inauguration Day appeal for a lowered temperature, for unity, he wasn’t seeing a realistic path to that goal. Ross called the new president’s first speech “soothing and calm.” But unity? Normalcy? A return to how things used to be, to Biden’s idea that “politics doesn’t have to be a raging fire?” Come on. At the dawn of an administration that seeks to return to a less fractious, even boring, politics, many Americans grant that Biden’s quest for a quieter culture is a nice enough goal, but, from the left and right, many say the country’s divisions remain too deep to allow for such a shift. In Topeka, Kan., Ed Myers has no patience for the debate over whether to hold Donald Trump to account for his role in inciting the attempted insurrection at the Capitol. A retired farm equipment factory worker, Myers says he was suspended by Twitter after he wrote that Biden is “an illegitimate president.” The way Myers sees it: That puts him in the same boat as Trump, whose Twitter account was banned for “incitement of violence,” which Myers views as a move to stifle free speech. So no, Myers sees no reason to unify, no cause to rally around the new president to combat the virus and revive the economy.

Barred From U.S. Under Trump, Muslims Exult in Biden’s Open Door (NYT) As the results of the American presidential election rolled in on Nov. 4, a young Sudanese couple sat up through the night in their small town south of Khartoum, eyes glued to the television as state tallies were declared, watching anxiously. They had a lot riding on the outcome. A year earlier, Monzir Hashim had won the State Department’s annual lottery to obtain a green card for the United States only to learn that President Trump, in his latest iteration of the “Muslim ban,” had barred Sudanese citizens from immigrating to the United States. The election seemed to offer a second chance, and when Mr. Trump was eventually declared to have lost the vote, Mr. Hashim and his wife, Alaa Jamal, hugged with joy. Few foreigners welcomed Mr. Biden’s election victory as enthusiastically as the tens of thousands of Muslims who have been locked out of the United States for the past four years as a result of the Trump-era immigration restrictions popularly known as the “Muslim ban.” By one count, 42,000 people were prevented from entering the United States from 2017 to 2019, mostly from Muslim-majority nations like Iran, Somalia, Yemen and Syria. But the human cost of Mr. Trump’s measures, stitched into the fabric of disrupted lives stained with tears and even blood, can hardly be counted—families separated for years; weddings and funerals missed; careers and study plans upended; lifesaving operations that did not take place.

A Digital Dragnet Is Coming For The U.S. Capitol Insurrectionists (HuffPost) The insurrectionists might have been able to leave without being arrested. Their friends and family members may not have turned them in. But slowly but surely, the digital surveillance net is tightening on the supporters of former President Donald Trump who stormed the U.S. Capitol on Jan. 6. Most of the cases being unveiled by federal authorities are still originating with tips from the public, and there are hundreds of future defendants who have yet to be identified and charged. But a few of the criminal charges appear to be built on wider-spanning search warrants to social media companies that appear to have given federal authorities investigative leads they’ve used to identify lawbreakers. The cellphones that the Capitol insurrectionists carried with them when they tried to overturn the results of the presidential election through force were feeding information to a variety of tech companies that now hold incriminating information about their users’ violations of the law. “We’re all carrying tiny tracking devices with us all the time, and people aren’t necessarily conscious of the extent to which that information is obtainable from a variety of sources,” said Julian Sanchez, a senior fellow at Cato and an expert on technology, privacy and civil liberties.

Mexican president Lopez Obrador tests positive for COVID-19 (AP) Mexican President Andres Manuel Lopez Obrador said on Sunday he had tested positive for COVID-19, amid an intense second wave of the coronavirus pandemic that has pushed the health system of the country’s vast capital city close to saturation. The 67-year-old president said in a tweet that his symptoms were light and he was receiving medical treatment. Lopez Obrador has maintained a busy public schedule during the pandemic and has said he enjoys good health, after suffering a serious heart attack at the age of 60 in 2013.

Spain’s virus surge hits mental health of front-line workers (AP) The unrelenting increase in COVID-19 infections in Spain following the holiday season is again straining hospitals, threatening the mental health of doctors and nurses who have been at the forefront of the pandemic for nearly a year. A study released this month by Hospital del Mar looking at the impact of the spring’s COVID-19 surge on more than 9,000 health workers across Spain found that at least 28% suffered major depression. That is six times higher than the rate in the general population before the pandemic, said Dr. Jordi Alonso, one of the chief researchers. In addition, the study found that nearly half of participants had a high risk of anxiety, post-traumatic stress disorder, panic attacks or substance- and alcohol-abuse problems. Spanish health care workers are far from the only ones to have suffered psychologically from the pandemic. In China, the levels of mental disorders among doctors and nurses were even higher, with 50% reporting depression, 45% reporting anxiety and 34% reporting insomnia, according to the World Health Organization. In the U.K., a survey released last week by the Royal College of Physicians found that 64% of doctors reported feeling tired or exhausted. One in four sought out mental health support. “It is pretty awful at the moment in the world of medicine,” Dr. Andrew Goddard, president of the Royal College of Physicians, said in a statement accompanying the study. “Hospital admissions are at the highest-ever level, staff are exhausted, and although there is light at the end of the tunnel, that light seems a long way away.”

French Roosters Now Crow With the Law Behind Them (NYT) The crow of a rooster and the ringing of a church bell at dawn. The rumble of a tractor and the smell of manure wafting from a nearby stable. The deafening song of cicadas or the discordant croaking of frogs. Quacking ducks, bleating sheep and braying donkeys. Perennial rural sounds and smells such as these were given protection by French law last week, when lawmakers passed a bill to preserve “the sensory heritage of the countryside,” after a series of widely publicized neighborhood spats in France’s rural corners, many of them involving noisy animals. The disputes symbolized tensions between urban newcomers and longtime country dwellers, frictions that have only grown as the coronavirus pandemic and a string of lockdowns draw new residents to the countryside. Perhaps the most prominent of these noisy animals was Maurice, a rooster in Saint-Pierre-d’Oléron, a town on an island off France’s western coast. His owner had been sued by neighbors—regular vacationers in the area—because he crowed too loudly. Politicians and thousands of petitioners rushed to the Gallic rooster’s defense, and a court eventually ruled in 2019 that Maurice, who died last summer at the age of six, was well within his rights. It is too late for Maurice. But his successor, Maurice II, can now crow with the full-throated confidence of someone who has the law on their side.

Davos ski resort eerily quiet without economic talkfest this year (Reuters) Student protesters who urged world leaders at the 2020 World Economic Forum in Davos to “Stop (f)lying to us” must be pleased this year, at least as far as the flying is concerned. The streets of the little Alpine town that welcomed around 3,000 business chiefs, political thinkers and state leaders for last year’s annual meeting lie deserted. Discussions have moved online, starting Monday, and COVID-19 restrictions are also keeping regular tourists away. “Look around, it’s empty. Normally, all hotels would be fully booked at this time,” Reto Branschi, head of Davos Klosters tourism, told Reuters in an interview this week. There are no helicopters patrolling the skies, no protesters trying to outwit security forces sealing off the Alpine resort. But not everybody is sad about the lack of buzz. “Complete peace and quiet,” a local woman wearing a mask said. “I don’t miss it at all.”

Trapped for 2 weeks, 11 workers rescued from China gold mine (AP) Eleven workers trapped for two weeks inside a Chinese gold mine were brought safely to the surface on Sunday, a landmark achievement for an industry long-blighted by disasters and high death tolls. Hundreds of rescue workers and officials stood at attention and applauded as the workers were brought up from the mine in Qixia, a jurisdiction under Yantai in the eastern coastal province of Shandong. The cause of the accident is under investigation but the explosion was large enough to release 70 tons of debris that blocked the shaft, disabling elevators and trapping workers underground. Such protracted and expensive rescue efforts are relatively new in China’s mining industry, which used to average 5,000 deaths per year. Increased supervision has improved safety, although demand for coal and precious metals continues to prompt corner-cutting. A new crackdown was ordered after two accidents in mountainous southwestern Chongqing last year killed 39 miners.

U.S. carrier group enters South China Sea amid Taiwan tensions (Reuters) A U.S. aircraft carrier group led by the USS Theodore Roosevelt has entered the South China Sea to promote “freedom of the seas”, the U.S. military said on Sunday, at a time when tensions between China and Taiwan have raised concern in Washington. U.S. Indo-Pacific Command said in a statement the strike group entered the South China Sea on Saturday, the same day Taiwan reported a large incursion of Chinese bombers and fighter jets into its air defence identification zone in the vicinity of the Pratas Islands. The U.S. military said the carrier strike group was in the South China Sea, a large part of which is claimed by China, to conduct routine operations “to ensure freedom of the seas, build partnerships that foster maritime security”. China has repeatedly complained about U.S. Navy ships getting close to Chinese-occupied islands in the South China Sea, where Vietnam, Malaysia, the Philippines, Brunei and Taiwan all have competing claims.

Israel targets flights, religious scofflaws, as virus rages (AP) Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu on Sunday said Israel will be closing its international airport to nearly all flights, while Israeli police clashed with ultra-Orthodox protesters in several major cities and the government raced to bring a raging coronavirus outbreak under control. The entry of highly contagious variants of the virus, coupled with poor enforcement of safety rules in ultra-Orthodox communities, has contributed to one of the world’s highest rates of infections. Experts say that a lack of compliance with safety regulations in Israel’s ultra-Orthodox sector has been a major factor in the spread of the virus. Throughout the pandemic, many major ultra-Orthodox sects have flouted safety regulations, continuing to open schools, pray in synagogues and hold mass weddings and funerals despite broader lockdown orders. This has contributed to a disproportionate infection rate: The ultra-Orthodox community accounts for over one-third of Israel’s coronavirus cases, despite making up just over 10% of the population.

Arab Spring exiles look back 10 years after Egypt uprising (AP) The Egyptians who took to the streets on Jan. 25, 2011, knew what they were doing. They knew they risked arrest and worse. But as their numbers swelled in Cairo’s central Tahrir Square, they tasted success. Police forces backed off, and within days, former President Hosni Mubarak agreed to demands to step down. But events didn’t turn out the way many of the protesters envisioned. A decade later, thousands are estimated to have fled abroad to escape the government of President Abdel Fattah el-Sissi that is considered even more oppressive. The significant loss of academics, artists, journalists and other intellectuals has, along with a climate of fear, hobbled any political opposition. Human Rights Watch estimated in 2019 that there were 60,000 political prisoners in Egypt. The Committee to Protect Journalists ranks Egypt third, behind China and Turkey, in detaining journalists. El-Sissi maintains Egypt has no political prisoners. The arrest of a journalist or a rights worker makes news roughly every month. Many people have been imprisoned on terrorism charges, for breaking a ban on protests or for disseminating false news. Others remain in indefinite pretrial detentions.

Severe winds wreck homes, displace thousands in Mozambique (Reuters) Severe winds and heavy rains wrecked thousands of buildings, ruined crops and displaced almost 7,000 people in Mozambique over the weekend, officials said in their first detailed report on the disaster. Tropical cyclone Eloise hit Mozambique’s Sofala coastal province on Saturday morning before weakening and heading inland to dump rain on Zimbabwe, eSwatini—formerly known as Swaziland—and South Africa. The region’s Buzi district had been particularly hard hit with wind speeds of up to 150 kph.

Raising kids bilingual can make them more attentive and efficient as adults (CNBC) Adults who grew up speaking two different languages can shift their attention between different tasks quicker than those who pick up a second language later in life, according to a new study. This is just one of many cognitive benefits of being bilingual. Research has shown that bilingual kids are constantly switching between two languages in their brain, which increases “cognitive flexibility,” the ability to switch between thinking about different concepts or multiple concepts at once, and “selective attention abilities,” the mental process of focusing on one task or object at a time. Other studies have shown that bilingual children can complete mental puzzles quicker and more efficiently than those who only speak one language. The reason? Speaking two languages requires “executive functioning,” which are higher-level cognitive skills like planning, decision making, problem solving and organization. Basically, this task is a workout for the brain. The mental benefits of starting a new language early appear to last even as children grow into adulthood.

[thesmpisonfire]

(Influenced by @lonecapybara post, love ya bestie)

Yesterday was SUCH a good day for another Richas' psychoanalysis. How he argued and confronted Bad about ElQs death. This kid keeps seeing everyone he loves getting hurt for going against the Federation, and now he saw Bad directly attack them again

He is so scared Bad might be taken, or even it branches out for Roier and Cellbit again. He's scared for Dapper and Pomme. He's scared for anyone but himself, he sees himself as a bad omen, cursing everyone around him

And how, in a way, he's right. ElQ is angry at Roier, at Bad, at Max. But also at HIM. He thinks Richas was in the plan bc Richas was tagging along. Richas, who was just afraid to leave Roier alone and losing him too. Richas, who loves his Pa Quack and can't help but feel a bit of affection to ElQ as well

Richas, who would follow ElQ if asked, because he thinks the targets are his dads, and not him

[littlepringlescan]

I realised something.

It’s really hard knowing about memes in two cultures, because English memes are kinda different to Spanish memes.

While we laugh at Luisito Comunica, Auronplay, Franco Escamilla and Rich O’Farril memes, you guys have John Mulaney, Brooklyn 99 and vines (for example). And, sometimes, i forgot that I’m not in tumblr and I’m in real life with my friends, so I say things like “too old to be a duckling, quack quack” “then I didn’t” or “noice” and they don’t understand the reference. Just a couple friends understand Brooklyn 99 references (and they reply with “smort” and “toit” and that’s ok) bUT NO ONE KNOWS ABOUT JOHN MULANEY AND THAT FRUSTRATES ME BECAUSE I WANNA TALK ABOUT HIM WITH THEM.

But when I say things like “abduzcan” “jaja, se mamó” “PAPA FRANCISCO, PA-PA-PA FRANCISCO” or “vaya dato perturbador” they laugh so hard.

So, yeah, probably I will die alone with my incredible thoughts about John Mulaney and Brooklyn 99

[ducktracy]

138. porky the rain-maker (1936)

release date: august 1st, 1936

series: looney tunes

director: tex avery

starring: joe dougherty (porky, porky’s father), tedd pierce (narrator), earle hodgins (salesman)

the first cartoon to have a narrator! tex in particular would play around with narrators, whether it be in his travelogues or to serve as important plot devices like in the village smithy. this is also the first cartoon where porky is considerably slimmed down—he’d fluctuate weight, especially contrasted with tashlin’s large interpretation for him, but especially with the addition of ub iwerks and eventually bob clampett in 1937, porky shifted onto a diet, tashlin the last one to slim him down after porky’s double trouble. here, porky and his farmer father are in the midst of a treacherous drought. porky spends their remaining money on a selection of pills rumored to bring on any weather event at will. however, trouble strikes when the farm animals accidentally eat the miracle pills instead.

tedd pierce fills us in as we open to a long, beautiful pan of a farm. an overlay of visible heatwaves paired with his commentary indicates that we’re in the midst of a severe drought. “valuable crops scorched by blistering heatwave! shortage of feed threatens farmers with ruin—their only hope is rain!” zoom in on an apple tree that wilts in an instant. “uh-oh, looks like there’ll be no shade—“ a chorus of hilariously dissonant voices join in, singing the classic “—under the old apple tree.” all of the crops suffer from the heat: apples shrivel up in seconds, corn stalks are stripped of their contents... we even hone in on some more predictable yet slightly rewarding puns, such as water boiling inside watermelons or eggplants cracking open and frying eggs on the ground.

porky and his father observe the drought solemnly, porky’s father (dougherty once more, only speaking in his natural voice, stutter and all) lamenting “worry, worry, worry.” a clamor from various farm animals calls over their attention, and they approach the barn to see what all the fuss is about.

as the narrator implied, there’s been a lack of feed thanks to the drought. no crops to sell, no money to make, no feed to buy. the animals are none too pleased, forming their own union and going on strike. haughty hens strut along, one carrying a sign reading “NO FEED — NO EGGS!”, the hen behind her matching with a simple “DITTO!”. a disgruntled horse is next, “NO FEED NO WORK” plastered on his side. a cow marches along with her nose in the air, her udders protected by a barrel that reads “CLOSED SHOP”—a very amusing gag that works both ways. of course, closed shop implies that she isn’t giving out any milk, but it’s also a labor union term. essentially, only those in the union can work at the shop/place of business. and, of course, only the cow can give the milk. how can you have milk if you don’t have any udders to milk? if you didn’t know tex liked gags, you do now.

despairingly, porky’s father reaches into his pocket and pulls out a sock, complete with a clasp at the top. he opens it, stuttering “here, my son. take our last dollar—“ he fishes in the sock for a dollar coin, “—and buy them animals some feed.” porky accepts the coin and heads on into town.

just as he’s about to stroll into the general store for some feed, a sharp voice catches his ear. in the middle of town proudly stands a merchant on his stage, selling a product to the congregation around him. the sign behind him tellingly reads DR. QUACK’S FAMOUS RAIN PILLS — $1.00. sure enough, dr. quack is ranting and raving: “now friends, i’m here today to advertise my famous rain pills!” earle hodgins does a wonderful job of the salesman, his lines full of energy and greedy passion. he lures his audience in, asking if they’re fed up with their dying crops thanks to this treacherous drought. he holds up his box of pills, assuring that they can bring instant rain. “each and every one of these capsules is guaranteed to make it rain where and when you want it!”

the cost? as the sign behind him advertises: a dollar. clever execution and timing as little porky pops his head up in the front row of the crowd at mere mention of the cost. to make the deal even sweeter, anyone who purchases a rain pill gets a free box of assorted pills with all the weather events you can think of. rain! snow! ice! lightning! thunder! tornadoes! earthquakes! fog! wind! you name it, it’s there in that measly little box! porky is absolutely enraptured, hoisting himself up to lean on the platform so he doesn’t miss a single beat. wonderful comedic timing as the salesman seamlessly pauses his long-winded rant just to shoo porky away, nudging him with his cane and instructing “don’t lean on the platform, son, you bother me.”

porky obeys, still taking in every word as the salesman blabbers “i’m going to pass out... these umbrellas!” (more fantastic timing and a great gag), distributing umbrellas to the crowd to showcase a demonstration. once everyone is armed with their umbrellas, dr. quack stuffs a rain pill in a little tube and spits it into the air. the pill is propelled into the air and explodes.

sure enough, the clouds grow heavy and dark, real rain showering upon every citizen in the square. porky is just beside himself as he sticks his hand out to feel the raindrops—“oh boy! real rain!” dr. quack eyes his audience, asking “now who’s gonna be first to buy one of these rain pills?” zero hesitation or remorse as porky fishes in his pocket and thrusts his father’s last earnings into the greedy hands of dr. quack, who hands him the fated pandora’s box. porky heads back to the farm, ready to knock the socks off his father.

porky’s father paces along, still muttering “worry, worry, worry” all the way. his face brightens up as he sees his loyal little boy marching towards him with the feed he so diligently went to the store to buy. feed in the shape of a box. with pills inside the box. rightfully so, porky’s father is furious. “PILLS!? i told ya to get FEED, not PILLS!” porky, unable to decipher why his father is so angry, ducks as his father tosses the useless box away.

the contents of the box scatter all across the farm. one of the picketing hens stumbles upon a spare pill, a lightning pill. mistaking it as feed, the hen happily gobbles down her food and grins contentedly at the audience. however, her delight is quickly put to a stop as volts of incomprehensible electricity jolt through her body and electrocute her. she flops to the ground, winded, and attempts to run for her life, squawking along the way. it’s too late—she turns into a literal lightning bolt as she tries to outrun from herself. the entire gag, from the contented grin to initial jolting reaction to turning into a lightning bolt in the midst of a frenzy would be reused in porky’s duck hunt, with daffy and an electric eel substituting the chicken and her lightning pill.

elsewhere, the picketing horse stumbles upon a fog pill and wastes no time ingesting it, too. a cloud of fog grows around his stomach, and in no time his surroundings are shrouded in mist. a horsefly (literally a horse with fly wings, which would serve as a minor plot point in a similar tex porky cartoon milk and money) comments into a microphone “altitude 10,000 feet. no visibility. ceiling: 0.” the gag is amusing, but slightly incomprehensible and lacks a smooth transition. enough to get the gist, though. meanwhile, a curious goose gobbles down both a thunder and wind pill, its body shuddering and shaking around as it regurgitates artificial wind from its body, blowing around aimlessly.

porky and his father observe in steely silence, his father glowering and sulking. helpful is porky, who finally pipes up with “there’s a pill there that’ll make real rain, pa.” porky’s father freezes. he whips his head around: “well why didn’t ya say so? where is it?” he crawls through the wooden fence and gets down on all fours, searching on his hands and knees for the fated miracle pill.

spotting a cyclone pill, porky reaches out to grab it. unfortunately for him, a chicken swoops in and swallows it before he can retrieve it. porky’s predictably peeved, glowering at the chicken, but his anger turns into awe as the chicken is whisked away into her own personal tornado. things finally settle down, and all that’s left is a nude chicken with a single tail feather. she glares at her feather, but it too turns into a mini cyclone and flies away. hilariously deadpan, she turns to the camera and gasps “well, imagine that.” not at all unlike an oswald short tex worked on in 1933, the zoo, a bear’s fur reduced to shreds thanks to a swarm of hungry moths. instead of screaming or overreacting, the bear also mildly states “well, imagine that.”

never mind the cyclone pill—porky spots another pill scattered on the ground, an earthquake pill. he reaches for it, and yet again another hungry chicken swallows the pill. this time an earthquake erupts in her body. amusing incongruity as the hen stalks away with her beak held high in the air, interrupted by frantic bursts of spasms and shakes. she clings to a tree for support, the entire landscape around her shaking. when the earthquake has finally paused, she ogles at the camera in disbelief.

porky and his father continue to search for the remaining pills, crawling on their hands and knees. porky finds something in the distance and trots over to it. sure enough, the fated rain pill is right in his reach! surely nothing can go wrong now, right?

wrong! the goose who had swallowed the thunder and wind pills is still aimlessly blowing around the farm uncontrollably. it knocks right into porky, tossing both of them to the ground. nevertheless, the goose is unscathed, seldom hesitating as it gobbles up the rain pill. porky ever so calmly and politely wrings the goose’s neck, calling it a varmint. he opens the goose’s beak and peers inside. no sign of the pill. frustrated, porky grabs the head of the goose and slams it on the ground, the goose settling back to normal as its head bounces back up. sweet, mild mannered porky!

his animal abuse may bring about some good after all. the goose, now shaken up, regurgitates the rain pill, sending it flying into the air. with a familiar snap, the pill explodes. could it be? yes! it could! the clouds darken and dump buckets of real, genuine, miraculous rain. all of the farm animals (and porky’s dad) crowd together, all sticking out their extremities just to feel the rain, reveling in it and soaking up every single last drop. apple trees grow back to size, corn stalks are nice and hearty again, all of the crops spouting 5x the amount of goods than what they used to. a gag that would be reused in many cartoons (especially and situationally in swooner crooner), a hen eagerly runs inside of her coop and lays an astounding mound of eggs, poking her head out of the coop and sighing in relief.

the joyous celebration continues, and everyone breathes a collective sigh of relief. good times are here at last! nary a problem in sight, only one little caveat. just one teensy little issue that needs taking care of... the animals still have the pills inside them. the celebration is cut short as all the animals jolt, jitter, shudder, fly, you name it. even porky and his father feel the effects. the false sense of security is pulled off strongly and coyly. everyone poses defiantly at the camera, a happy cartoon close sting... and then silence except for an array of sound effects as the pills take their course. tex plays around with the iris out as the goose blows itself out of the iris and into the black void, where rain is still pouring down. the goose frantically pounds against the black wall, squawking frantically. the iris opens one last time as porky yanks the goose inside for good.

a very amusing and creative cartoon for sure. milk and money would follow a similar route—porky needs to help his father earn money for the farm, and hilarity ensues (and there’s also a horsefly involved.) i like that one a bit more, as i feel it’s a stronger cartoon. this one came off more as a showcase of gags than anything, not having too much plot, but it was still definitely there. some gags were certainly funnier than others, but this still remains as a relatively funny short. the ending is particularly amusing, with the coy “all’s well that ends well” poses of the gang and the orchestral swell, interrupted by the natural elements inside each animal. the first appearance of porky’s father, too, who would make a handful of appearances, even during the mel blanc era with porky’s poppa in 1938. not tex’s best cartoon, but certainly watchable and amusing. worth a potential watch!

link!

[uncaaj]

Fanfic - Christmas Invasion (PKNA)

READ NOW ON AO3!

Feliciana belongs to @felicianacariocapistoles

---

The Duckburg Commercial Center mall could easily be considered a city unto itself during the month of December. Lights were bright as the noonday sun, and the climate-controlled interior was thick with the cacophony of multitudes of shoppers engaging in the time-honored tradition of holiday commercialism. Donald Duck was among them, slugging 4 hefty paper bags over his shoulder. Behind him, holding his hand and humming along to the carols playing over the PA, was Feliciana Carioca-Pistoles, Donald’s goddaughter. She had happily agreed to accompany Donald in shopping for his nephews, swearing secrecy with a smile, while he combed through their lists and weaved through the holiday rush.

“Zio, aren’t I a little too old to hold your hand?” asked Feliciana.

“I told you, Feli,” said Donald, “this crowd is just too doggone large to risk losing you. We need to stay together.” He looked to one side of the walkway then the other, searching for one particular store. “Aha!” he declared, leading Feli through a cluster of people to the entrance of GamePort. “I can finish off the list here, then we can go home and have some cocoa.”

“Mmm! Cocoa!” Feli hummed.

Many a shopper perused the many hot titles on display at GamePort, as well as the merchandise the store offered. The cash register was woefully understaffed for the volume of consumers inside, and Donald heaved a sigh at the line he would have to endure.

“Lot of people in here today, Zio,” Feli pointed out.

“That’s an understatement,” Donald said, using a free hand to rake his fingers through his short but messy haircut. “Well, the sooner we get this done, the sooner I can get in line.” Donald trudged over to a shelf full of figurines depicting every pop culture figure imaginable. “Watch the bags, Feli.”

Feli watched her godfather go to work, searching through the stacks and stacks of figures to find the exact ones on his list. Her eyes wandered around the store, watching the hustle and bustle go by her. Kids were playing demos of new games, dancing next to the t-shirts, and their parents were grumbling exasperated words at the lone cashier, obviously up to his neck in it.

“That poor clerk,” she said to herself, wondering what hidden magic she could implement to aid the overworked teen.

Angry quacking drew her attention back to Zio Donald, who was arguing at another shopper. “I saw that Spiral the Dragon figure first!” he snapped at a burly dog in an overcoat.

“Tough beans, chump! It’s the last one and I’m goin’ home with it!” the dog growled.

“I’ll show you tough beans!” Donald lunged at the dog, who promptly shoved him into the shelf, causing an avalanche of vinyl figurines to rain down on the duck. One particularly large statue out of its box thwacked him on the head, leading Feli to wince upon its impact. Donald twirled around and hit the floor to be buried by the forming pile of figures.

As the mess slowed to a halt, the dog laughed heartily, and many of the shoppers were staring at the commotion inside.

Which would soon be overtaken by the commotion outside.

Eyes and ears were drawn to shrieks of terror, a stampeding crowd and laser blasts flying in all directions. A purple-suited Duck-like creature stepping inside, eyes glowing red, confirmed Feli’s fear, though she wondered what Evronians were doing here, today of all days.

There wasn’t much time to wonder, as the Evronian barked, “All of you! Come out single-file and perhaps we’ll spare your lives.”

Feli gulped, fear settling into her stomach. This was a job for Duck Avenger! ...who was buried in hundreds of pop culture paraphernalia, and in his civilian identity, no less.

She dropped to her knees and began furiously digging at the pile. She didn’t make it too far before a hand lifted her by the hood of her jacket. Evronian eyes searched her, then opened wide.

“Sir!” the soldier shouted, “I recognize this one! She was with Duck Avenger!”

“Bring her out here!” came a growl from outside.

“No!” Feli protested, but she was promptly hauled away in the exiting crowd. As she was dragged away, she looked back at the pile and silently willed her godfather to wake up soon, forced to cooperate with this sudden hostage situation, at least for now.

+++

When Donald came to, the first thing he was aware of was the multitude of weighted cardboard atop him. That, and his throbbing headache. He groaned, long and quiet, as he shoved figurines off of him and eased himself up.

The store was bare. It felt so different, almost eerie, without a single patron crowding around the store shelves. Donald scratched his head, baffled. How long was he out? Was the mall closed? It couldn’t be, given the lights in here and outside were still on, and the PA continued its marathon of jolly carols.

“YOU PITIFUL EARTHLINGS!” That gravelled shout reached Donald’s ears and sent a shiver down his spine.

“What the fresh powder was that?” he squeaked to himself.

“Evronians, D.A.,” came One’s voice from his bowtie.

“Here?!” Donald hissed, “On Christmas? Surely you jest!”

“I never jest when it comes to Evronians.”

Donald looked around again, noticing a certain ward he was in charge of to be nowhere to be found. Uh-oh. “Feli?” he called out.

“Zip it!” One snipped. “Do you want them to discover you?”

“But they could have Feli!” whispered Donald, rising to his feet. “I’ll show those maniacal brutes who ya don’t mess with on Christmas.”

“They’re all on the lower level, in the center of the complex. You can sneak up on them and gift them a little surprise.”

“What an excellent idea, One.” With a sly smile, Donald pressed a button on the back of his bowtie.

Lines of green light wrapped around him from the neck down. Donald stuck his right arm out as the lines wove together and formed a flat, square shape on his forearm. The green outlined his eyes lastly. Then, Donald was covered in a blanket of green, bright and tingly on him.

When the green vanished, his sailor suit had disappeared, replaced by his red and black jumpsuit, yellow boots, thin black mask, and a fully-formed X-Transformer.

Duck Avenger was ready for action.

+++

Feli gulped and wiggled against the rope she and all the other hostages in the mall were held by. The crowds were tethered to the round fountain in the middle of the mall, while four Evronian soldiers kept a watch on them, their Evroguns at the ready should anyone try any sudden movements.

Feli looked to her right and saw two more Evronians approaching from the fancy boutique down the hall. One of them was the one who mentioned her with Duck Avenger, and they looked to be conversing with each other.

“I told you it would be a good idea to invade during their ‘Christmas’ season, Kursaal. Magnitudes of potential Freezeflames practically given away to us!”

“But Zargon, sir,” Kursaal whimpered, “are you not worried about an intervention from...You-Know-Who?”

Zargon laughed loudly and slapped his associate on the back, causing him to fall into the fountain and splash water on several hostages, Feli included.

“Does that answer your question, you soggy simpleton? That worthless Earth hero likely turned tail and ran like a pathetic coward!”

Zargon approached Feli and kneeled down, stroking her cheek with one finger. “Don’t think we’ve forgotten Ducklair Tower, meddlesome imp. You and especially Duck Avenger have been thorns in the side of Evron for far too long. This is why you’re going to tell me everything, starting with..who he is and where his base is.”

“Not a chance! Duck Avenger gonna save the day and take you down like he always does!”

With a swift and sure strike, the hand that had just been so gentle toward Feli now slapped her across the face. A smirk curled up as he saw her begin to hyperventilate and tears form in the corners of her eyes. “Foolish child. Duck Avenger isn’t here to save your precious emotions now.”

“Then you don’t know me very well, Evro-punks!”

All eyes turned to the source of the voice. The Evronians balked in shock, and Feli smiled wide seeing Duck Avenger standing above them on the second floor railing, arms crossed and beak in a frown. He jumped and did a three-point landing next to a planter feet away from the Evronians.

The soldiers surrounded Duck Avenger and aimed their Evroguns at him. The hero raised his hands up slowly as Zargon placed his hand on Feli’s throat, to Duck Avenger’s horror. “Don’t think you can escape now, Earth scum. We know your affiliation with this girl.”

“Wait, please!” he said, a shake in his voice. “I have a proposition for you guys. Let these innocent people go free…the blue jay included...” Duck Avenger breathed in and out. “...and I’ll let you capture me.”

“Zi- D-Duck Avenger! No!” Feli cried, struggling more.

“Silence!” Zargon growled, tightening his grip.

Feli looked at her Zio, now gagging, tears dripping down her face.

Duck Avenger’s heart lurched. They would surely pay, if his plan worked. If not, then Feli and the crowd were done for. He prayed Zargon would take the bait.

The Evronian captain loosened his hold and turned back to Duck Avenger. “A legion of Freezeflames...or Earth’s only hope silenced…” His beak curled upwards and he rubbed his hands together. “Your fate is sealed, Avenger.”

Zargon snapped his fingers, and two soldiers slipped away from the group and untied the rope. As soon as they were freed, the crowd dispersed in all directions, leaving for safety as quickly as they could. Feli joined them, looking back once at her trapped Zio, before ducking into a nearby restroom. Hold on, Zio, she thought, your sidekick is coming.

“I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time,” Zargon said in a low, evil tone. He raised his own Evrogun and fired. Duck Avenger ducked and dove off to the side. A flurry of fire came after him as he rocketed back up to the second floor.

He waved back. “Hey! I said I’d let you capture me! I didn’t say I’d make it easy!”

Zargon yelled in frustration and shot his finger out at Duck Avenger. “Shoot that insolent worm!”

Duck Avenger ran down the walkway, dipping and jumping past laser blasts as they came. Every missed blast left a burn mark on the wall, infuriating Zargon more and more.

Duck Avenger vaulted over the railing once more and landed right on a soldier, putting it out of commission. “I’m gonna beat ya into next week!” he declared, fire in his eyes. Straightening, he socked another in the beak and shoved them into another soldier, bringing them both to the ground.

“Blasted hero!” Zargon shouted, pistol-whipping Duck Avenger in the back.

Crying out in pain, he fell on his face, dazed. Rolling over, he grunted as Zargon’s foot came down hard on his belly. Cold sweat began to drip down his brow as he looked into Zargon’s murderous eyes.

“You’ve interfered with the Evronian empire for the last time,” growled Zargon in a low voice, aiming his Evrogun once more.

“Andate all’inferno, Evro-jerks!”

“For Yostly’s sake! What now?!” screamed Zargon.

Duck Avenger gasped. All the soldiers around him were lifted gingerly into the air, as if by magic, then they collided head-first with one another, smushed together into a ball shape, and flung into the fountain. Water splashed out all over the floor. “What the great honk…?” Duck Avenger breathed.

Revealing herself from behind a planter, her eyes glowing gray, was Feli, disguised as her own superhero persona, known as Magia. Her costume was almost identical to his own and he couldn’t help but sigh in relief and smile seeing his goddaughter come to his rescue.

Zargon slowly rose up from the pool and shook the water from his head.

“Who wants some more?” Magia threatened, a ball of magic growing in her palm.

Zargon growled low and deep. “This isn’t over, Earthlings. Retreat!” The Evronians crawled out of the fountain and zoomed away on their discs, crashing into the glass ceiling and sending tiny shards falling near Duck Avenger and Magia.

Eyes returning to normal, Magia walked up to her godfather and they both watched the shards tinkle on the tile, the light reflecting them in a manner reminiscent of many little twinkle lights on a Christmas tree.

“...the mall cops are gonna be mad at the mess we made, aren’t they?” said Magia.

Duck Avenger rubbed his neck. “Usually they’re not, as long as they’re safe from the threat. And if they’re not,” he leaned in close to Magia, “I charge the damages to Uncle Scrooge.”

Magia put a hand on her heart, a wide, surprised smile across her beak. “And you get away with that?”

Duck Avenger cracked an innocent grin. “Perhaps I’ll tell you more later.” He wrapped his arms around Magia. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I don’t know what I would’ve done if they hurt you.”

“Thanks for coming to our rescue, Duck Avenger,” she replied, nuzzling into the hug.

“Thanks for the bailout, Magia. Let’s go home.”

“That’s right! You still owe me some hot cocoa!” she said, skipping toward the nearest exit.

“Yeah, and a talk about your language,” said Duck Avenger, following after and sending a knowing look her way,

“You...understood that?” Magia shrunk a little bit. “You won’t tell Papí and Papai, will you?”

“I won’t, but Santa will know.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Try me.”

[nerd2614]

Oz's guide to Aussie slang words/phrases that are actually used *

Aussie - an Australian person

Bird - a female

Bloke - a male. He's usually a good person. "Yeah, Jacko is a real bloke"

Bloody - used regularly for emphasis "bloody cops" "bloody hell" "that's a bloody big'n, eh?"

Bogan - someone who wears singlet, shorts & thongs all year round, can only speak "Australian" and is (stereotypically) not the sharpest tool in the shed

Cold one/ coldie - a beer, often enjoyed with "the boys"

Crack a shit - throw a tantrum

Crook - sick/ill OR a criminal/dodgy person

Doin' a Bradbury - winning because everyone else fails/ falls over

Dole bludger - someone who lives off of government money without working.

Egg on - encourage (Can be positive or negative)

Fair dinkum - honest/really true. Used as a question and an affirmative.

Few kangaroos loose in the top paddock - not all there upstairs... same meaning as "losing their marbles"

Flamin' galas! - an expression of surprise

Flogged / got a floggin' - lost badly / got yelled at

G'day - "good day" used by most ironically, but a few (especially in the country) use it normally

Gasbag - talk/ have a chat (also: chinwag)

Hoon - NOUN: hooligan VERB: driving fast (generally with loud music)

Iffy - not quite right e.g. that milk smells a bit iffy

I reckon... - I think... often followed with a bad idea and a "hold my beer" moment

Jack of - fed up/ sick of

Juice- petrol

Kip - a nap

Larrikin - someone who has lighthearted fun. Often used (in my family) as referencing the little kids or my Pa (How's the larrikin doin'?)

Mate - A word uses to describe anyone from family to your closest friend to your worst enemy or even a complete stranger.

Nah wackas - No worries

Oz - Australia

Pash - a passionate snogging session

Peakin' / absolutely peakin' - annoyed/freaking out

Pull ya head in - stop being an idiot/ start behaving. It's used by everyone from parents to your mates. (Often said about politics)

Quack - a doctor. Specifically one that gives out meds just a bit too quickly/eagerly

Queensland safety boots - thongs/flip flops

Red grungies - undies

Root - sex

Sheila - a female (also a name)

She'll be right - everything will be fine

Troppo/gone troppo - tropical cyclone level of anger/tantrum

True blue - honest / fair dinkum

Up the creek - in trouble

Vegemite kid- true blue Aussie child

Wanker - an idiot

Wombat - a bloke or sheila that eats, roots, and sleeps

Yakka - work

Zip - nothing

*Some words may be used ironically or not often but I have used every. Single. One. However they may not be used by anyone else anymore. Words/phrases may also be used in other countries... I dunno.

[lunasolar2070]

Fakiru Week Day 2 - Personify

Ahiru didn’t expect to meet him there.

She just arrived at her favorite place in the town, the park’s lake.

It was peaceful and had a great landscape. There, she would always feed the ducks and secretly put music to dance, surrounded by that beauty.

But today, she thought, she wouldn’t be able to dance, only feed the ducks. All because he was there.

Fakir, the guy who was at the same university as her. He was so scary, with those deep green eyes who could kill with just a look. He was exactly like a wolf before a hunt. Mysteriously scary. She really didn’t want to cross ways with him.

He was siting in a chair by the pier, writing in his old notebook. His black and long hair was tied in a low ponytail and was wearing a blue shirt and jeans. Well, she couldn’t deny that he was a handsome man, but above all, he was too scary.

— Ah, man, here I go — Ahiru sighed as she approached the lake.

She expected him to not notice her presence, but she slipped in the grass and fell, making his head turn to see her.

When he saw her, he rolled his eyes.

— Here comes a peace destroyer...

She stood up and gave him a angry glare, a very courageous act in her view.

— A good day for you too, Fakir.

He murmured a good morning and got back to his writing. Ahiru breathed and started to feed the pretty yellow ducks. She giggled as a duckling quacked in a cute way for her.

— Quack for you too, little cutie! — she said, caressing the fluffy feathers.

The duckling walked with his tiny legs to Fakir’s chair and quacked to him.

Ahiru was worried, because she expected him to scare the ducky away, but instead, he lifted him and kissed the top of his head.

— Hello, little one! You better go with your brothers or your mommy is going to get angry at me. Be careful, right?

Ok, that was a surprise. Did he actually was sweet?

His phone started to ring and in annoyance, he picked up.

— What is it, Autor? Wait, he did what? Oh geez, that moron! Ok, I’ll be there in a minute.

Fakir stood up and picked his notes, and rushed for his car.

While he was running, a loosen pace fell from the notebook. Ahiru picked it and screamed:

— Hey, you forgot this one!

But he was already gone. She took a look at the page and for her surprise, his handwriting was beautiful, like the ones you see in Pinterest. She was so mesmerized by it, that she decided to read what he wrote.

She didn’t expect to feel so emotive in the end of it. It was short story about a knight and princess and it was so romantic and well written!

Ahiru never thought a guy like him would be so sensitive and so passionated about writing feelings. She put the page in her bag and headed home. Something was telling her she would see him in the next day.

——————————————————————————

She was right. At the same time as yesterday, there he was, sitting at the same chair.

She tangled her braid in her fingers and with courage, she walked to his direction.

— Good morning, Fakir! — she said with a bright smile in her face.

Fakir looked surprised and nodded his head saying good morning. Ahiru took a deep breath and took the page out of her bag.

— Hmm... So, yesterday you dropped this page and... please, don’t be mad at me, but I’ve read your story and... honestly? I was in tears, it’s so beautiful so... congratulations, because you are amazing.

Then, his face became so red that he looked away, trying to hide a smile. She noticed and thought this was so cute!

He took the page back and for the first time, she saw his smile. He had a pretty smile.

— Thanks, Ahiru. I really appreciate that.

She smiled back and took a look at his notebook.

— So... — she pointed at it — what are you writing about?

Again he looked surprised and showed her the notes.

— Well, I’m making the history you read in a full book.

— Whoa, really?! I would love to read it! I hope the knight and the princess will have a happy ending, they deserve it so much!

He laughed and nodded.

— Well, I would never let them have a tragic fate. Would you like to take a look?

— Sure!

And then, many days passed after this. They quickly became friends, and then, best friends. The meet at the same spot in the park every single day to talk about life, listen to music, write the history, and they even ended up dancing a pas de deux! Who would thought he took ballet classes?

Ahiru really enjoyed Fakir’s company, but she didn’t realized when she fell for him. He was so amazing that she couldn’t help, but to fall in love.

One day, they were laying in a picnic blanket when Fakir poked her shoulder.

— Hey, Ahiru? I was thinking about something...

— About what?

He stood in his elbows to look at her, causing her to blush.

— Am I scary? — he asked with a serious face.

She couldn’t hold her laugher, confusing him.

— Hey, I’m serious! — he said, smiling at her, that smile which made she feel so warm.

— Ok, ok... — she breathed in and sighed — To be very sincere, when I meet you, I was afraid of you.

He raised a eyebrow

— I’m serious! — she insisted — come on, you are a wolf, Fakir!

He laughed and approached her.

— And how I’m a wolf, Ahiru? — he asked, almost flirtatious. Oh God, please don’t be so close!

— Er... well... Look, your are mysterious and I’m not gonna lie, you’re handsome. — he giggled at her red face, but she continued — You have that glare that can make anyone wish to hide their heads in the ground. But...

— But...?

Ahiru was about to explode in embarrassment of what she was going to say.

— But it’s not just that! Wolves are loyal, caring and above all, they’re cuties! You have all that, you are human wolf!

Fakir’s face was so red, but he didn’t look away. Instead he approached her.

— Well, since you’re comparing me to a animal, I always thought you looked like a...

— Like a...? — she said in expectation.

— A duck.

She laid in the blanket again and turned her back to him.

— Hey, don’t talk to me for the next week, ok? — she said. He was laughing, so, she couldn’t stay angry with him for too long. — Seriously, Fakir? A duck?!

He nodded and pointed to the lake.

— Look at them! They are small and cute, they’re funny and clumsy and are always happy!

She really was flattered at the “cute” part, but seriously? That’s what he thought about her?

— But — he started again, this time, holding her hand — You also resemble a swan.

Ahiru giggled and rolled her eyes.

— Why? Because their quacks are louder?

— No, because you’re beautiful.

Whoa, that was so straightforward! Her face surely was the same color as her hair. Gosh, those emerald eyes that were staring at her were really serious.

— You are beautiful, in your own way, you’re graceful, being with you make me so peaceful and happy that I can’t find other gorgeous creature to compare to you.

Her eyes were wet. She never heard words so beautiful and sincere about her.

— Oh, Fakir... I... Thank you

Fakir smiled fondly and wiped her wet eyes with his thumb.

— I only said the truth. You are all of this and that’s why I fe... — he covered his mouth with a hand, suddenly blushing.

— You what? — Ahiru asked, confused. He took a deep breath and held booth of her hands.

— I fell in love with you. I didn’t want to tell you, but I can’t hold it anymore. It’s ok if don’t feel the same I....

— I do! — she abruptly said — I feel the same way!

Now both of them were blushing. Wow, she didn’t expect things to turn out this way. In the next second they were laughing together.

— So, miss duck — he started, kissing her hand — would you like to go out for a dinner tonight?

She laughed and agreed with her head.

— Let’s go, mister wolf!

@fyeahfakiruweek

[mandareeboo]

Title: Man Got Shot, Daughter Got Revenge, More at Ten

Summary: Darkwing and Quiverwing both get into some pretty nasty scrapes over the years.

Excerpt:

She doesn't think when Darkwing slumps to the ground. She doesn't think when Quiverwing Quack carefully notches her bow, aims, and fires. She doesn't even think while gingerly pulling her father onto her shoulders, or when she gets hit next. It's muscle memory, burned into her; notch, aim, fire. Down goes the baddie. When she hops into the Ratcatcher and tells Launchpad to punch it, she still isn't thinking, because she hates her thoughts and she's good at ignoring them.

She's already lost Grandpa and Ma and Pa. She can't lose Dad.

"He'll be alright, Gos," Launchpad whispers into the night, and yeah, sure. They said that about everybody else, too. 'Alright' is just a nice adult way of saying 'we think they'll live? Maybe?' and Gosalyn doesn't rely on maybes. She relies on definitive. Darkwing Duck is definitely gonna die. Maybe not tonight, but someday. That's a definite.

Gosalyn buries her face into Darkwing's sweaty sleeve and thinks. Thinks hard. Thinks, he can't die, I'm not old enough to pay bills. Thinks, I don't wanna go back to the orphanage. Thinks, at least he was nice about it. At least he didn't promise to stay like Grandpa.

Darkwing Duck doesn't die that night.

-Busting through a window- Did someone ask for angsty-ish oneshot about the real concerns of being a hero? No? Well, it's here anyhow.

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