#just goin based off of what i do!! ty for the request!!

[w0w0zella]

Hi!! May I request Eridan/Equius or Horuss/Rufioh? (stares politely)

ther u go !!!! ^_^

[nev3rfound]

holding back nerves : t.o

brief summary: going on a first date with thor 

word count: 1.8k requested: yes, by @meaganottiz02 - this was so cute to write thanks for the idea! warnings: none that i’m aware of. just lots of fluff

* requests are open if you have any ideas, feel free to drop ‘em in my inbox or message me. *

(ngl I really enjoyed writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it!)

Fiddling with my nails I listen as Steve continues to change the channel, still not settling on a single show. “Come on, Steve.” I release a heavy sigh as I lift my head up, watching him furrow his eyebrows as he continues to click random buttons. 

“I’m trying to find something I like.” He mumbles and I collapse back down into the sofa, letting the soft fabric swallow me in as I bring my legs up. 

“Lady Y/n, are you bored?” Turning my head I smile as Thor walks over standing tall as always. 

I shrug my shoulders as I swallow my nerves back once more. “I wouldn’t be if someone could pick a damn show to watch.” I remarked, glancing over to Steve who remains oblivious, stuck in his own world. 

Hearing him move closer I feel the sofa dip behind me, just above my head. “Would you like to go see a show worth watching?” Thor speaks up and I tilt my head back, seeing him stood above me with a smile crossing his face.

“You, you wanna go out?” Stuttering my words I watch as he chuckles softly, resting his large hands either side of my shoulders. 

Beside me, Steve finally picks a show and quietly plays it whilst clearly eavesdropping. 

“I mean, if you’d like to.” Thor awaits my response and slowly I rise to my feet, brushing my jumper down before smiling back to him.

“Yeah,” I nod. “yeah, yeah why not.” Chuckling softly I brush my hair back behind my ear before jumping as he claps his hands together, laughter filling the room.

“It’s a date!” He calls out happily whilst Steve switches the subtitles on his show. “Say, tomorrow evening Lady Y/n?” Taking my hand in his Thor kisses it lightly, his eyes not leaving mine before he turns around with a spring in his step.

“Don’t think I’ve seen him that joyous since he did ‘Get Help’ with Sam last week.” Steve pipes up before he turns to face me. “You deserve a good time, Y/n.” He nudges me lightly before returning his focus back to his show, leaving me in my own thoughts as I realise what I’ve just agreed to.

“Holy shit, Steve.” I let out a short scoff, shaking my head in disbelief. 

“Language.” He quickly pipes in, as per. 

“I’m going on a date with an actual God.” I think aloud, laughing to myself in complete shock. “A God, Steve.” I stand up in front of the TV as Steve sighs heavily before placing the remote next to him. 

“Best make the effort then, doll.” He remarks as he rises to his feet, heading out of the room. “I’m goin’ watch something in my room in peace.” 

*

Tying the ribbon on my dress I brush my hands along the soft cotton, releasing my last minute nerves as I let out a shaky breath. “How’d I look?” Turning around I twirl in front of Sam and Bucky who just shrug their shoulders. “Thanks guys.” I mutter before picking up my bag and heading out of my room, leaving the two of them to bicker. 

“Wow.” A voice calls out and I turn around, smiling as Tony struts down the corridor and whistles to me. “You heading out anywhere nice by any chance?” Tony raises an eyebrow and I shrug my shoulder. 

“Possibly.” I sway my dress as I check my watch. He’ll be expecting me any minute. 

“Have a good time. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” He yells as I rush down the corridor towards the lift. 

As the lift descends I can see rain lining the windows as pedestrians shrug their coats higher whilst others seem more prepared for a cloudy evening in New York. “I knew I forgot something.” I mutter under my breath. An umbrella, one thing I should’ve brought. 

The doors of the lift open onto the ground floor and slowly I step out, hearing my heels clicking against the marble flooring. “Lady Y/n, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more beautiful sight.” Lifting my head I can feel the butterflies in my stomach somersaulting as I meet his brown and blue eyes. 

“I’m sure you have in all of your life,” My mind wanders to all of the planets he’s seen, how beautiful Asgard once was. “but I appreciate the compliment.” My smile rises as I walk closer towards him. 

“Nothing can compare,” He mutters as I stand in front of him.

Tonight it’s as if he’s a normal guy in New York. He’s wearing a tux that is clearly too tight around his muscles and Axe nowhere in sight. “Did you bring an umbrella?” I ask as I turn my head to the side, looking out as the rain continues to pour. 

“Oh, I’ll just get it.” He speaks up and holds his arm out, slowly waiting for it to be by his side. 

A series of crashing sounds echo through the compound, followed by some swearing from Bucky whilst Thor just laughs under his breath. “I knew I should’ve just picked it up when I was upstairs.” He states and I hold back my laugh as it flies through the room and lands in his grip seconds later. 

“I don’t think that is something I’ll ever tire of seeing.” I admit and he raises an eyebrow, making heat rise across my face.

“Well, Lady Y/n I think I’ll show you a few more things you’ll never tire of.” He remarks before holding his arm out for me to accept as we head out of the compound towards the car that is outside awaiting the two of us. 

*

Our evening is spent full of laughter and shared stories of our lives before we knew one another. I sat and listened to Thor tell the tales of him and Loki growing up and the tricks he’d pull whilst he flung his dinner all over the place with his mannerisms as I dodged pieces of chicken to the best of my ability.

As we walk back towards the compound Thor keeps his umbrella up, covering both of us as I hold his hand, swinging it back and forth lightly. “I gotta say, I didn’t anticipate tonight being this much fun.” I speak up, feeling slightly giddy from the four glasses of wine during dinner that Thor insisted we have. 

“How so?” He pipes up, glancing down as I’m unable to wipe a smile from my face.

“You’re much funnier when you’re not serious and all ‘Loki must be helped, oh no we must protect Loki or Loki is back, shits going down.’“ I try my best to impersonate him, only making Thor laugh harder and squeeze my hand. 

Shaking his head he pauses, bringing me closer under the umbrella. “You truly are something else, Y/n.” He mutters softly, placing his hand on my cheek as it slips from my hand. 

“I think you forgot something there,” I whisper as he lowers his face down toward mine. 

“And what would that be?” His question ghosts my lips as I rise on my tiptoes. 

“Lady Y/n to you, Thor.” I joke before closing the distance between us and wrap my hands around his neck.

With his lips against mine, I can hear him drop the umbrella, the electricity crackling between the two of us as he deepens the kiss. 

Rain falls onto us, making the kiss saltier as I pull away, slightly breathless. 

“I, erm,” Trying to swallow my breath Thor merely smiles, his arms resting on my waist as I remain on my tiptoes. “you dropped your umbrella.” 

Thor shrugs his shoulders, “It doesn’t matter, I’m holding precious cargo.” He winks and we slowly remove each other from the close embrace and continue the short walk back to the compound, knowing a car was close by if needed. 

Walking into the compound I can hear the drips of rain leaving a trail as we head towards the lift, knowing we’re on different levels Thor slips his jacket off, his shirt damp and clinging to his muscles. 

“Like what you’re seeing, Y/n?” He asks and I roll my eyes. “I like what I see, only fair if it were reciprocated.” 

I turn to face him and kiss him softly as the doors open, knowing it’s his floor. “I’ll see you in the morning,” Slipping away from him he smiles before exiting the lift, a few final words being heard before the metal doors separate us.

“Morning can’t come soon enough, Lady Y/n!”

The metal doors close, leaving me alone to process the entire evening and as I play it all back in my head I’m unable to wipe the smile from my face. 

Hearing the small sound the doors open and I slip my heels off, walking and humming as I head towards my room, heels in one hand and the end of my damp dress in another. 

Unlocking my door I slip inside, facing it as I chuckle to myself thinking morning cannot come soon enough.

“Good night?” Jumping I turn to see Tony and Steve perched on my bed.

“Fucking hell you scared me!” I yell as I drop my shoes, bringing my hand to my chest as I can feel it beating like there’s no tomorrow.

“Language.” Steve comments and I merely glare at him in response.

“What’re you doing in here?” I ask as I glance up to my clock. “It’s one in the morning guys.” I sigh as I collapse down on my chair, flinging my dress over it as I curl up in my blanket whilst the two of them study me closely.

“Well,” Tony asks and I look at him cluelessly, waiting for him to finish his sentence. “was it a good night? Cause based on the time I would say it must’ve been.” He smiles over to me as does Steve, the two of them acting like proud Dads. 

“It was lovely, but I’m cold and damp and need a shower so if you don’t mind.” Rising to my feet I open my door, waiting for them to leave.

Steve rises to his feet first, never one to disobey a ladies orders whilst Tony can’t hide his growing smirk. 

“Good night, Y/n.” Steve mutters as he keeps his head low, departing my room whilst Tony slowly struts out. 

As he has his hand on the door he leans back, “You got a bit of lipstick on your chin, might wanna invest in a liquid lipstick next time you go making out with a God.” He states before closing the door behind him as his laughter echoes through the halls.

But for once, I don’t mind. I walk into my bathroom, looking at the lipstick smudged on my chin and how part of it is above my lip line. I smile at the sight, knowing Thor is wearing it proudly too. 

Quickly I shower, warming my bones back up as the electricity running through my veins begins to shut down for the night without his touch and once I lie in bed I turn my light off. 

Morning can’t come soon enough. 

[dr-gloom]

Muted

I couldn’t find the post on my blog because there’s just a lot goin on, but this is based off a post that was like: 

Person A, C, and D, all chanting in a group voice chat with B: UNMUTE! UNMUTE! UNMUTE! 

Person E: guys, shut the hell up, this is very stressful for them.

[Person A, C, D, and E all go dead silent when B finally unmutes their microphone]

Person E: ...B, it’s okay if you don’t want to talk, I get why.

Person B, softly and quietly: I-It’s okay, I’m just nervous-

Person A, distantly but very clearly: HOLY MOTHER OF FUCK I’M IN LOVE!

To be clear I did not write that post, I just can’t find the op

Anyways, they’re having a video chat on skype because I found it easier to work with an added video aspect. And Virgil is a transmale who’s only been on T for a short while. 

Part 2

Fandom: Sanders’ Sides

Pairing: none/platonic TLAMP?

Warnings/Tags: trans character, trans!Virgil, anxiety, Human AU

Read it on AO3

fic masterlist

like what I do? buy me a coffee or GoFundMe

Virgil wasn’t the most verbal person out there by far; no, that was probably Roman. Virgil hated his voice, hated talking (hated the dysphoria that would settle in his lungs and press down on his shoulders). He didn’t see why he had to - if he had something important to say, he could just write it down or type it out. If the person/people he was talking to cared, they’d wait for him to finish writing or typing. And this worked out fine for him, especially since his only friends were all hundreds of miles apart and he only talked to them on Skype. He’d met Thomas and Patton through Tumblr, and through them had met Roman and Logan respectively. The five of them had become extremely close in a short amount of time, and Virgil wouldn’t hesitate to say he thought of them as family. 

The first time they had all had a Skype call, Patton and Roman had spent at least ten minutes freaking out over people’s hair/faces/voices etc. and chattering excitedly about how they were so happy to finally put voices and faces to the names on their screens. Virgil was too, really, but he’d kept his mic off. The others knew he had anxiety so they didn’t push him or question it too much, and Virgil was glad they didn’t. Only now, he almost wishes they had, so he hadn’t had the chance to get too comfortable and scared to speak. 

Like he was now. 

What had started as a regular bi-weekly video chat between the five friends had quickly taken a turn for the worst (at least to Virgil) as Roman requested Virgil finally turn his mic on. “Come on, Hot Topic, it’s been months! I’m dying to know what you sound like.” Virgil frowned slightly and shook his head, typing in the chat component. 

Emo Nightmare: not a chance

Patton frowned, looking dejected, and Virgil instantly felt guilty. “But why not kiddo? We won’t judge you, we’re your friends!” Thomas nods emphatically. “Exactly. We just want you to be able to join in our conversations without having to type everything out. Surely it gets annoying sometimes.” Virgil pursed his lips.

Emo Nightmare: i guess, but...

“Then unmute!” Roman shouted excitedly, making Virgil jump. Oh no. “Unmute! Unmute! Unmute!” Virgil watched Roman as he pounded his fists on his desk to match his chanting, glancing at the other squares on his screen that his friends’ faces resided in, his stomach tying in knots. Patton’s grin grew as he pushed his rainbow hair out of his face, and Thomas laughed. “UNMUTE! UNMUTE! UNMUTE!” Thomas and Patton had joined Roman’s chanting, all banging their fists on whatever surface their computer sat on and it made Virgil’s heart rate speed up. Maybe he should do it? They deserved to know what he sounds like after all... Right? But he was nervous; he hadn’t been taking T long enough to really change his voice - it was only just starting to crack and deepen. Barely. He glanced down at his hands, picking at the cuff of his hoodie sleeve before responding.

Emo Nightmare: i dont know guys...

Thomas grinned as he read the message and egged him on. “Come on Virgil, we want to know what you sound like!” Patton and Roman agreed, a chorus of “come on Virgil”s and “it’ll be fine”s. But what if it wasn’t fine? What if they laughed at him? what if they took back their support and started calling him a girl? Or worse, what if they started using the wrong pronouns by accident? Because that was the truth of it; he was afraid his voice would invalidate everything he’d spent months building with his friends. That hearing his smooth, unmistakably feminine voice would make them forget who they were talking to, and when they weren’t looking they’d associate the wrong pronouns to the voice. It’d happened so many times before - he passes rather well, especially when he wears slightly baggy clothes, but as soon as he opened his mouth people would correct themselves and apologize for thinking he was a male. Virgil didn’t think he could take it, because somehow being accidentally misgendered was so much worse. 

Logan spoke up, having been sitting back in silence while the others chattered and badgered Virgil. “Everyone needs to shut the hell up, this is stressful enough for Virgil as it is.” He pushed his glasses up his nose and gave the other three males a pointed look. Virgil tried to hide the smile on his face (holy crap, Logan swore) by ducking his head down, his purple fringe covering much of his face at this angle. “Aw, we’re sorry kiddo! We didn’t mean to make your anxiety worse!” Patton practically launched himself at Virgil before remembering that there’s two computers and 500 miles between them. Virgil shrugged, typing his response as Roman spoke up, clearly looking regretful even as the smile remained on his face. “Whatever our Dark and Stormy Knight is most comfortable with is fine by me! ... But I’d still love to hear that mysterious voice of yours. I’m sure it’s positively wonderful!” Roman gestured enthusiastically. 

Emo Nightmare: thanks guys...

He could trust them. They were his friends. Thomas opened his mouth to say something when Virgil quickly turned his mic on, the soft background noise of Fallout Boy coming from his speakers. Whatever Thomas was going to say died on his lips as he realized what’s happening, and the other three seemed to be waiting with baited breath, expressions a mix of enthusiasm and excited tension. Logan’s mouth quirked to the side. “...Virgil, it’s okay if you don’t want to talk, I understand why.” Virgil swallowed and shook his head, speaking a bit hesitantly, his voice quiet. It’ll be okay. “I-it’s okay, I’m just nervous-”

Suddenly, Roman shot up from his seat, sending the rolling chair across his room as he dashed out the door suddenly. Virgil paled, feeling his heart shrivel in his chest. Oh god, Roman hated him now. He’s freaked out, disgusted. Maybe he was only trying to be polite earlier? Maybe he thought Virgil would sound more masculine by now? He wasn’t going to want to be Virgil’s friend anymore. He was going to start calling him a girl. Virgil started panicking, and Patton must have seen this, because he smiled weakly, speaking up and trying to draw Virgil’s attention. “Don’t worry Virgil, I’m sure he-”

Roman’s voice cut through, slightly muffled, but it’s clear he’s yelling from somewhere inside his house. “BY ODIN’S BEARD I’M IN LOVE!” 

There’s a beat of silence before Patton and Thomas start laughing. Logan smirks, and Virgil sinks down into his seat, his face absolutely red. “Oh my god....”

Logan looks right into the camera, making Virgil feel like he’s looking right at him. “I believe it is clear that you won’t be muting yourself anymore, Virgil.”

A/N: So yeah, super short, but it was fun.

Projecting? Who’s projecting their insecurities onto Virgil? Totally not me. 

Anyways I wrote this at school with a bunch of noise and forgot the word for enthusiasm so that was fun. 

[badwolf-in-the-impala]

~Where the Wild Roses Grow~

~Part 5~

Previous Parts: (( Ch.1 - Ch.2 - Ch.3 - Ch.4 - Ch.5))

Image Credit: badwolf-in-the-impala

Inspired by:  Halsey - Colors

Pairings: Thomas Shelby x OC

Rating:  Mature/NSFW/18+ (Might as well cover all the bases))

Warnings:  PTSD, drug use, mentioned physical/sexual abuse, violence, angst. ((I will add further warnings for chapters that apply.))

Chapter Warnings: Alcohol/substance abuse, PTSD/Nightmares. 

A/N: So, I totally failed at having this up when I said at would 0.0 I apologize for that...things have been rough and life has been time consuming. It also doesn’t help I’ve written and re-written this three different times and keep nitpicking it to pieces. I did however work on making it longer-ish? But anywho, I really hope it was worth the wait? Thank you guys as always for supporting me and being patient. Your comments really do brighten my day when I post new stuff. <3 Feedback is most appreciated! 

If you would like to be added to the taglist, all you need do is ask. :)

The weeks seemed to pass by in a blur filled with work, whiskey, cocaine, and avoiding Thomas Shelby. 

Althea had made it her soul purpose to disappear whenever he came into The Garrison or the stables. Her head had not ceased to stop spinning since the night his lips had touched hers so unexpectedly; and she hardly slept since. Her mind a whirlwind of emotions -- many of which she had not felt in years --overwhelming her senses to the maximum level each time the memory came up. So she did what she was best at...she buried every feeling that had tried to  surface in an attempt to steal a breath of air, so that they might start to thrive once more, only to be shoved back down as far as she could manage. Not that it seemed to make any difference.  

Because Thomas Shelby was already in her head. 

She was worn down and exhausted, fueled most days only by the unhealthy amount of cocaine that kept her from falling asleep. Kept her from falling into that vast nightmarish pit of despair she called sleep. She had a hard enough time getting much enough before Tommy’s kiss with the night terrors and all, but now, now that stupid kiss was all that haunted her very existence. Her mind coming up with new unbelievably cruel ways to torment her every time she closed her eyes at night; drawing the line when her present started to blur into her past.

The dream had felt so real. 

Right down to the gut wrenching feeling of horror in the pit of her stomach as she watched, frozen and helpless as the world broke apart around her. It had started off so innocent and harmless. The first real dream she’d had in ages, and she was happy. Smiling and laughing as they walked along the canal, arm in arm, enjoying the sweet Spring time air as the sun shone down on them brightly, warming away the chill of Winter from their bones. Something so rare and magical. Her hands brushing along the wild Roses that grew over the canal walls gently, stirring up their sweet aroma with each touch, relishing in the calming scent until her attention was pulled to the familiar sensation of a thorn burying it’s self in her finger.

Pausing, she turned her right hand over to examine the crimson liquid that fell in tiny droplets to the cobblestones beneath her feet. The atmosphere around them shifting as the sky darkened and the world fell silent, almost as though time had stopped all together as she stood. The Cobblestone turning to mud beneath her feet, and the sweet aroma of Spring replaced with the putrid scents of death. 

The Silence broken by the deafening roar of the Fokker fighter planes overhead. Emerald eyes lifting from her bloodied finger to the images of horror that suddenly surrounded her. That beautiful canal, now a gore filled trench, full of men and shouting as they fired upon the enemies that fast approached. Bullets and screams split the air as she watched on in horror. Bombs spiraled to the ground, hitting soundlessly as they exploded all around, taking life in massive waves of uprooted earth.

Then she saw him, running towards her; the screams that fell from his lips were silent, but she could make out her name. His hands flailed wildly in an attempt to move her from where she stood, but she remained frozen. Watching in horror as the bomb that hurdled to the ground between them finally struck with an audible **BOOM** everything going dark as she bolted upright in her bed.

They were images not so easily pushed from her thoughts these days; as one never forgets the sounds of death. It made her uneasy every time she found herself in the same vicinity as Thomas. Reminding her how simple it was for that feeling of blissful happiness to be ripped away...and it was always, somehow, ripped away in the end.

“Oi!” The sound of Arthur’s voice breaking through her thoughts scared her nearly half to death. The glass she had been cleaning was sent crashing to the grounf, shattering loudly as her back collided with the counter behind her. “Christ woman, the ‘ell’s gotten into ya?!” 

“I’m sorry.” Althea quickly apologized as she snatched the bar towel and bent to clean the mess she had just created. Stopping as Arthur rounded the corner behind the bar, entering her field of vision as he knelt down in front of her, grabbing her hands gently and pulling her up to her feet. Leading her out to a table and sitting her down before pouring a glass of Gin and pushing it towards her. Stopping after she’d downed the second one in a single go.

“You need’ta lay off the Snow ‘fore ye bloody kill y’er’self.” Arthur sighed as he sat down, plucking the match she was struggling to keep steady from her hand, and lighting the cigarette between her lips for her. She nodded guiltily as she took a long pull, exhaling shakily as she closed her eyes. Pinching the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger as she tried to push down the anxiety that was flooding her body slowly, creeping dangerously close to the surface as it threatened to come pouring out.

“I’m sorry...” She whispered again quietly.

“Oi...” Arthur replied gently, reaching out to pat her arm reassuringly. “Stop apologizin’.” Althea opened her eyes, greeted by a rare, sympathetic, look from the eldest Shelby brother that sat across from her. Brows creased with worry as he refilled her glass and set it down in front of her once more. Althea sipping at it this time around.

“Go ‘ome for the day, get y’er head straight.” He instructed, filling his own glass with whiskey as he sat back in his chair, raising a hand to silence her from protesting. “We’ll manage jus’ fine with’ou you for a nigh’.” He added. “I mean it.”

Althea remained quiet but nodded in agreement. She hated being told what to do, but for once she didn’t have it in her to argue the matter. Instead, she finished her drink and pushed herself to her feet, thanking Arthur quietly as she feigned a small smile before retreating out the door; coat in hand.

“Girls ‘bout as damaged as they come.” Arthur sighed with a shake of his head, looking up to find Tommy who had been concealed in the shadows against the wall by the back entrance. His expression as cold and unreadable as always, but this time around, there was something more buried underneath it as he watched the door swing shut behind Althea.

Concern.

The sound of knuckles being rapped against her door roused her from the Whiskey fueled nightmare into which she had slipped. The bottle that still sat by her bedside was sent hurtling to the ground as she fumbled to retrieve the revolver from her nightstand drawer; a sense of panic sweeping over her as her whiskey clouded mind tried to decipher what was going on. Becoming more aware as the noise sounded again. Three sharp beats, then silence. Althea stood slowly, careful to avoid the glass shattered beside her bed as she crept towards the door soundlessly. Save for the audible click of the hammer of the gun being cocked.

“It’s Thomas.” 

A breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, swept past Althea’s lips as the familiar deep voice spoke up from the other side of the door. Disengaging the hammer of the gun before unbolting the door and letting it swing open. Not caring for the moment she was dressed in nothing but her slip. Pushing the stray hair from her sweat soaked forehead as she glanced to the clock above the wood stove; noting it to be well past Midnight.

“I almost shot you...” She grumbled crankily as she stepped aside, motioning for him to enter so she could shut the door. Scowling at several nosy neighbors who had already poked their heads out to inspect what was going on. “To wha’ do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Shelby?” 

Turning, she steadied herself with a hand against the shelf beside her. Closing her eyes briefly as she took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Watching as those crystal blue eyes flicked from inspecting the scars that crept over the exposed skin of her right shoulder back up to meet her own green gaze. Althea cleared her throat awkwardly, breaking away from Tommy’s stare as she crossed the room to grab the robe that hung from the dressing screen beside her vanity. Tugging it on and drawing it closed around herself tightly.

“There’s been a small incident at the Garrison.” Tommy cleared his throat. “Seems some’a the lads may require medical attention.” Althea nodded, turning to reach up for the medical box that sat collecting dust upon a shelf, struggling for a moment on her tiptoes before finally pulling it free and bringing it over to the table. Popping the latches and drawing the lid open to inspect the contents carefully.

“Anythin’ that’s goin’ to require stitching?” She asked casually, glancing up at Tommy like this was a completely normal request. Her brows furrowing as she finally focused enough to notice the cuts that adorned his cheek and lower lip, and the tinge of a bruise that was forming beneath his left eye.

“Most likely.” He replied. “I do apologize f’er disturbin’ you so late.” He added, hands shoved into the pockets of his overcoat,  watching carefully as she inventoried the medical box to make sure she had the proper items needed. 

“You wouldn’t be askin’ for my help if it wasn’ important.” Althea replied as she closed the box and disappeared behind the dressing screen. Throwing on a simple worn green work dress and medical apron, which she tied off around her waist before slipping into her heels and grabbing her coat. Green eyes narrowing at Tommy as he collected the medical box before she could reach for it herself, but she held her tongue as they turned to leave. Snuffing out the few lanterns that still burned, dimly, one by one; darkness enveloping them by the time they reached the door.

“Don’t trip.” Althea quipped as the door swung shut behind them. Missing the roll of Tommy’s eyes as she disappearing into the darkness of the hallway, leaving him behind as she descended the stairs and stepped out into the cool night air. Inhaling deeply as she lit a cigarette and leaned back against his car. Waiting patiently for him to catch up. Offering him the other half of her unfinished cigarette as he finally emerged from the building and gave her a hand up into his car.

The ride remained silent as they sped along the empty streets. The scenery was different, and even in the dark, she knew they weren’t going to the Garrison. But Althea remained quiet as they drove, choosing not to ask questions as it seemed pointless. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for the Shelby boy’s to get into a good brawl here of there at the Pubs. In fact, it didn’t take much to get Arthur riled up, and that’s usually all it took, though injuries were usually minor and nothing anyone bothered to fret over. So for Tommy to approach her -- especially after how she’d treated him as of late -- it had to be of a somewhat serious nature.

Eventually the car slowed and came to a stop outside of a building, number Six Watery Lane to be exact. Althea picking up on the ruckus happening inside as soon as Tommy cut the engine. The yelling loud enough it could likely be heard from down the street if one dared to listen close enough. Tommy offered her a somewhat apologetic look for what he was about to throw her into as he guided her towards the door, throwing a final glance over his shoulder before pushing the door open and ushering her inside...into complete and utter chaos. 

But it was like a switch inside her had flipped the second she stepped across the threshold. She was suddenly back in the peaceful chaos of the Front Lines she was so used to. That familiar sense of calm taking hold  as she tied her hair back and pushed her way through the small crowded room like she owned the place. Things falling silent as she ordered the two Peaky boy’s -- who had hold of John’s right arm, readying to force it back into joint -- to take a step back before they could do more damage. An older woman narrowing her gaze skeptically in her direction, gaze snapping to meet Tommy’s in an unspoken question. His nod signifying that she could be trusted.

“You ‘eard the lady, move!” She barked, sending the boys scattering somewhere to the back of the room as Althea took over. John wincing as she prodded around the dislocated appendage, assessing the severity of the injury and frowning.

“You’re lucky they didn’ break y’er fuckin’ arm.” Althea stated sternly, raising his arm with her left hand as she turned to grab the unopened bottle of Irish Whiskey that suddenly appeared on the table along with her medical box. Prying the cork free with her teeth and spitting it out back on the table, she held the bottle out to John.

“Drink.” She ordered, waving over one of the larger men to hold him steady from the other side and snatching the bottle back to place on the table. 

“Alrigh’ count of three then...One.” An audible crack filled the room, as she carefully forced the shoulder back into it’s rightful place. A startled yelp leaving John’s lip as his free hand balled into a fist and collided with the table.

“Bloody fuckin’ Christ, woman!” John gasped out as he looked up at her, blue eyes wide. “You said three?!” Althea cocked an eyebrow and placed a hand upon her hip as she stared back at him.

“If you honestly expected me to count to three, y’er an idiot.” She retorted, a hint of sarcasm underlying her tone as she moved to lay his arm against his chest, pulling a bundle of bandages from her box and working carefully to bind the injured limb in place. Turning then to tend to the few small cuts that were scattered about his face before moving on to Arthur -- who was sat across clutching a towel to his face -- once she was satisfied. 

“Thought you could handle things with’ou me?” She questioned sarcastically as she pulled the towel away from his face carefully. Blood trickling freely from a deep cut above his brow as the pressure was removed. Swapping out the blood soaked towel for a clean one, she passed him the bottle of Whiskey before digging out all the necessities to sterilize and suture the wound. Arthur grumbling drunkenly under his breath in reply before taking a swig and passing the bottle back. Althea taking a swig of her own before pouring a small amount to the cut, giving Arthur an apologetic look as she pressed the towel back against it gently. Taking a moment to inspect his hands -- knuckles busted open and bloody -- for any broken bones. Satisfied when she found nothing to be out of place, she turned to face Ada, who had been standing next to the older woman she had yet to meet, looking rather anxious as they spoke in hushed tones.

“Would you mind fetchin’ me two bowls? Fill one with water, leave the second empty.” Ada nodded and disappeared for a few moments, returning quickly with the requested items and setting them on the table. Althea gave her a kind smile in return and reached for a small piece of clean cloth which she dipped into the water, wringing the excess from it before holding it out for Ada to take. Her dark eyes questioning as she accepted, waiting for further instruction.

“Clean the cuts on his hands carefully.” Althea instructed calmly as she pulled a needle and thread from her medical box; threading it through the eye shakily before tying it off at the end. “Once you’ve finished, ‘old each hand over the empty bowl, pour a little Whiskey on wounds an’ let it dry.” She paused as she reached into her box for another roll of clean bandages. “Then wrap ‘em with this.” 

Ada set to work immediately then, no questions asked. The tension and nervousness slowly fading from her posture as she busied her mind with something other than over thinking the situation at hand. A method Althea had used many times during the war with the younger Nurses, who were new to the field. Watching carefully from the corner of her eye as she worked carefully to stitch the wound above Arthur’s brow, praising her here and there as she worked to keep her own movements slow and gentle. Stilling her hands the best she could from shaking, aiming to inflict the least amount of pain possible, not that Arthur complained much.  

“Hell of’a job y’er doin’.” Arthur piped up, grabbing the bottle of whiskey off the table with the hand Ada had just finished wrapping. “Can’t ‘ardly feel it.” Althea gave a half smile, pausing briefly to take a pull off the bottle he offered before handing it back and resuming her work carefully. The shakes subsiding ever so slightly.

“I was famed f’er havin’ a delicate touch durin’ the war.” She replied with a small smile. John snorted from across the room at her answer, Althea raising a brow in his direction. 

“Wha? I’ve seen those ‘ands throw a punch.” He spoke up, that usual cheeky grin of his slowly creeping onto his lips. “They ain’ always so gentle.”

“John!” Ada snapped, looking up from working on Arthur’s hand to glare at her brother. “Don’t be rude.” Althea chuckled softly and dismissed the comment with a shake of her head.

“He’s a point.” She chimed in as she carefully tied off the last suture, snipping the end with a small pair of scissors. “The men use’ta joke, sayin’ I wasn’ fragile like a flower, like most women...I was fragile like a bomb.” several people in the room laughed lightly.

Tommy even quirked a grin from the corner where he stood, keeping a watchful eye --through a crack in the drawn curtains -- on the darkened street outside. Though his gaze would occasionally drift here and there, observing Althea as she worked. Quick, and efficient, it wasn’t difficult to see how at ease she was when it came to working under pressure. Just as she had promised the day they first met her. But he hadn’t any doubts that dealing with his family was a stroll through the park compared to her years spent working the Western Fronts as a Combat Nurse...frowning suddenly as he recalled the scars that adorned her otherwise perfect skin.

Most ran in thick jagged lines, mixing with small patches of that appeared to be burned, creeping over her right shoulder and down onto her chest and upper arm. His jaw set in a hard line as his mind drifted to the pain she must have suffered...and not just physically; no. He knew she suffered the same torments of War that he did...maybe on different levels, but she was haunted by the same demons they all were after returning home.

You cover it up. Bury it as deep as you can...but it’s something you’re forced to live with day in and day out for the rest of eternity. Coping in a multitude of unhealthy ways just to get through the day, or simply to buy yourself a few hours of sleep. He’d seen his fair share of death; caused even more. But he couldn’t imagine baring the burden of physically holding someones life in the palm of your hand. Struggling to save men you did not know, all while simultaneously putting your own life at risk day in and day out.

A burden that must be to bare indeed.

It was somewhere after Two in the morning by the time Althea finished cleaning up. Most of the injuries following John and Arthur had been superficial. A few broken fingers to set, a busted nose and some minor cuts and bruises. Ada’s assistance was more than helpful, but it all took time. Especially the younger boys who’d gotten involved, that couldn’t stop whining. Althea purposely taking twice as long for her own enjoyment. Her fingers bordering on numb by the time she had finished, barely able to strike a match to light the cigarette between her lips as she sat down. Exhaling and closing her eyes for a moment, enjoying the silence as most everyone had passed out or found their way to bed.

“How’s it look?” She heard the older woman ask in a low tone as she approached Tommy. He was still fixed by the window, still as a statue, icy blues fixed to the darkened streets. 

“Like too many fuckin’ coppers are snoopin’ about.” He replied. A tired frown fixed to his face as he stepped away from the window. The woman nodding before turning to Althea who had leaned forward to extinguish the last of her cigarette. 

“You can stay ‘ere for the night.” She spoke up, gaining Althea’s attention, raising a hand to silence her before she could even think of protesting the offer. 

“Arguin’ is pointless, so save it. It’s the least I can offer after what you did for us ‘ere tonight. Now,Thomas, be a gentleman and give her y’er room eh?” And just like that, she was gone in a blink, leaving only Tommy and Althea behind in the fading glow of the living room.

“Pol hates everyone at first.” Tommy broke the silence, as if reading her mind. “You get use to it.” 

“That’s reassuring.” Althea replied quietly with a roll her eyes as she pushed herself up from the couch. Trying to ignore the aching in her feet and back as she collected her medical box from the table.

“C’mon then.” Tommy nodded his head toward the stairs, leading her up and down the hallway to one of many doors that lined it. Pushing the door open it and gesturing for her to enter first before closing it behind them quietly. 

“You can take the bed.” Tommy cleared his throat, breaking the silence again as he lit a lamp on the bedside table. Althea nodded but remained quiet as she placed her things down and slipped out of her shoes. The bed was the most inviting thing she’d seen in hours and she longed to collapse backwards onto it, giving in to the throws of exhaustion. But she remained in the middle of the room, watching as Tommy took a seat at a small table in the corner. Things remaining unnervingly silent between them as he sparked a match to light the cigarette that hung between those perfect lips of his. 

Althea watching quietly as the shadows casting about the room from the lamp danced across his sharp features. His jaw was set in a hard line and his brows furrowed together with worry, his thumb tracing over the split on his lower lip absentmindedly before he took another drag from his cigarette. Staring out the window into the night as if it held the answers he was searching for, and only further adding to the mysterious allure that drew her in a little more each time she looked at him. 

Althea swallowed dryly, rubbing a tired hand across her face before reaching up and pulling the tie from her hair. Dark locks tumbling past her shoulders freely as she shifted to remove her apron, pulling it free from her waist and tossing it on to the bed. Quietly, she rummaged through her medical box and pulled out some clean cloth, grabbing the whiskey and lamp from the nightstand before approaching Tommy where he sat.

“I owe you an apology.” She spoke quietly as she placed the items on the table, adjusting the light, feeling that icy blue gaze of his drift from the window to her form already fixed on her form that now stood beside him.  “My actions since that night have been...inexcusable.”

“You don’ have to apologize.” Tommy piped up with a sigh, smoke rolling past his lips as Althea’s gaze snapped up, brows furrowing together at his sudden interruption.

“I do.” She retorted with a frown, uncorking the Whiskey bottle a little harsher than intended as she wet the piece of cloth in her hand. Tommy not objecting as her fingers found their way beneath his chin as she tipped it upward, gently brushing the cloth over the cuts the adorned his face, one by one as she cleaned them. Listening carefully as she continued to ramble on nervously as she worked.

“You’ve been nothin’ but kind since we met. I jus’ -- it caught me off guard...when you kissed me...an’ I’ve not treated you fairly; an’ f’er that, I am deeply sorry.” She sighed heavily, pausing as Tommy’s fingers closed gently around her wrist, stilling her work on his lower lip for a moment so he could speak.

“Apology accepted.” Tommy replied simply, blue eyes gazing up, searching hers  carefully. “My actions were impulsive and not to be excused either. So, you could say I owe you an apology as well.” He offered, Althea looked down at him with a half smile and a playful roll of her green eyes.

“Truce?” He offered, his grip loosening but still lingering around her wrist. 

“How abou’ you jus’ ask next time?” She replied jokingly, chuckling softly with a shake of her head.

“Can I kiss you?” He replied, deep voice laced with a hint of amusement as he tried to stave off the grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Now y’er jus’ pressing y’er luck.” She laughed softly, pulling her hand free of his own as it fell away.  

“Is that a no then?” He pressed lightly, tongue darting out slowly across his lower lip expectantly as she leaned forward; face only inches away from his own as she held his gaze for a few brief moments, leaning forward to close the gap only to divert at the last second to blow out the flame of the lamp. 

“Goodnigh’, Tommy.” She spoke lowly as she brushed past his ear, pulling away. The small playful grin that graced her lips momentarily visible, even in the dark as she turned towards the bed to settle in for the night. Drifting into a restless, but dreamless sleep. A sense of calm sweeping over her as that watchful blue gaze settled on her. Making her feel as though she was the safest she had been in months...even if only for a night.

-----------------------------------------------

TAGLIST: @liiv0urlifee @londoncharlotte88 @theworld-is-ahead @zazasblogxx @readsalot73 @ly--canthrope @harjumus

[digikate813]

Power Down: Chapter 4

Now that Fenton has officially become Gizmoduck, Duckburg’s newest protector, he is not holding back. Giving everything he has to being the greatest hero he can be. But how much can he push himself to do more before he starts to fall?

Based on a random request by @zefive. Not to me directly, but when I saw the post, this idea flooded into my head, and I couldn’t resist. Enjoy!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Fenton woke up in a daze, realizing that he had passed out. He really hoped this wouldn’t become a habit. When he looked around, it was still dark, but he wasn’t in the middle of the street anymore. He could feel the soft cushion of a mattress underneath him. He had to admit, it felt heavenly. He could also feel a robe that definitely wasn’t his over his shoulders. That's when he realized.

“The suit’s gone!” The mere panic at the thought of someone getting their hands on the Gizmoduck suit again was terrifying enough to snap him awake. He sat straight up, which he instantly regretted. His whole body ached, and not in the “broke every bone in your body” kind of way. He knew how that felt. It was not fun. Although this feeling wasn’t exactly a walk in the park. His head still throbbed a bit but it was definitely clearer. Clear enough to realize that he was, not home. He was sure of that. He took a minute to get a better sense of where he was. The room was a bit small, but much larger then his. And it’s decor was at a much higher standard then in the Cabrera household. He tried to figure out what was going on. Who could have possibly dragged him away and taken the suit? He got a look at an oil painting on the wall, depicting what looked like a golden dragon, with someone on it’s back. As he looked closer he recognized who it was, and by extension, where he was. “Oh boy.”

The door opened as soon as he came to his conclusion, and a tall muscular woman entered the room, who at first seemed taken aback by his presence. “Oh. You’re awake.” she said. “One moment” Stepping back out into the hallway, he could hear her talking to someone. He could guess who it was.

“Do you have any time what time it is?” he could hear a gruff muffled voice from what sounded like over a phone. “He’s awake.” she told him. There was a moment of silence before he heard “Tend to him quickly. I’ll be right there.” Fenton could feel it. He was in so much trouble. The woman returned with a silver tray in hand, and Fenton finally got up the courage to speak.

“Uhh, are you-?” he stuttered out before she quickly replied “Mrs. Beakley. Mr. McDuck’s housekeeper.” she introduced herself without even looking at him as she placed the tray on the table next to him. She finally turned to him with a glass of water. “Drink this. All of it. We wouldn’t want you getting dehydrated.” She was, very stern in her requests. Fenton wondered if she was like that with Mr. McDuck. Probably not. He accepted the glass and was about to do as she said before she added “And I suggest you tie up the dressing gown.”

Fenton was so startled by that comment he let out a yelp and almost spilled the drink. Instead he put it down quickly so he wouldn’t cause more of a fuss, and covered himself up a bit in a quick motion by pulling the blanket closer, with a nervous dry chuckle. Very dry. Maybe he should have a drink. “Where- where are my clothes?”

“Being washed. Something they clearly haven’t been in quite a while.” she replied in a pretty dismissive tone. This woman seemed way too intimidating to be a housekeeper. He was about to grab the glass again when Beakley grabbed his wrist while looking at her watch.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking your vitals” she answered as she seemed to have finished. “Can’t be too careful with sleep deprivation like this. Especially when someone has been asleep as long as you have to recuperate.”

“I see. And uhh, how long have I been asleep? Here? Exactly?”

“Since Mr McDuck brought you in? About 28 hours.”

“I’ve been asleep for over an entire day?!” Fenton shrieked. How is that possible? Sure he was a little tired, but he’d hardly consider it sleep deprivation. He just had a lot on his plate lately. To be out for 28 hours seemed unreal. As Fenton processed this, Mrs Beakley placed a tray of food next to the glass. “Help yourself. Mr. McDuck will be with you shortly.”

As she was leaving, Fenton had to ask. “Am I in trouble?”

Mrs Beakley simply looked at him over her shoulder, and left the room. Closing the door behind her.

Fenton straightened himself out and sat on the edge of the bed, tying up his borrowed robe like Beakley suggested. Guess he had nothing to do but wait. And eat. But worrying about Mr. McDuck scraping Gizmoduck for good was making him lose his appetite. He still grabbed a couple of loose grapes to snack on. Guess sleeping for that long would make you hungry no matter how much you were afraid of losing the greatest thing that ever happened to you.

Noticing the silver tray was left behind on the table, he picked it up, and took a good look at his reflection. Smoothing out the feathers on his head to look more presentable. Not that that should matter. This may be the worse he’s ever screwed up. And that was really saying something. But this time, he failed someone who had faith in him. Who believed in him and gave him a chance. No matter how much he’d messed up in the past, he couldn’t think of a time when he did that. How is it he slept for 28 hours, and he still felt weary?

He couldn’t bear to look at himself any longer. “Some hero I turned out to be.”

“Looks like ya got in a bit over yer head, eh lad?” He knew that voice. He turned around to see Scrooge McDuck standing in the doorway. “Mr. McDuck!”

He couldn’t quite read Scrooge’s expression as he approached him, but he didn’t look pleased. At the moment, he just leaned on his cane in front of him. “How you feeling lad?” he asked almost, comfortingly.

“Umm, better. I think.” Fenton trailed off. He didn’t realize just how bad he felt before until just now. “How did you find me?”

“Your mother called the office looking for me after you ran out. I wasn’t that far from the museum at the time and, well it didn’t take us long to find you on that little joyride you took.” He still couldn’t tell if Mr. McDuck was angry or amused. Maybe it was some weird combination of both.

Fenton shot off a rapid apology and hopefully a good explanation.“Mr. McDuck, I am so sorry. I don’t know what happened. The suits been acting up a bit for days, but this was something else! I tried everything I could think of all day to find the problem, but-”

“The problem wasn’t the suit lad!” Scrooge interrupted abrasively, which immediately shut Fenton up. “The problem, was you.” Pointing his cane aggressively at him.

Fenton was in shock at the statement. “Me? How am I the problem? I’ve worked day and night on the suit and answered every call for help that came my way. I put everything I possibly could into being Gizmoduck.”

“Exactly. Ya pushed yerself too hard.” Scrooge’s furrowed brow and tense muscles loosened as he continued in a softer tone. “Tell me Fenton. When was the last time ya got a decent night’s sleep?”

Fenton paused, rubbing the back of his head absentmindedly.It should probably bother him more that he had to think this hard about it. “Well, there wasn’t much going on on Saturday. So probably then. But just a day or two with broken sleep isn’t that bad. Everyone does that once in a while, right?” Fenton argued nervously.

Scrooge’s brow was furrowed again. “Lad. It’s Thursday.”

Fenton’s eyes went wide at that realization, but he could only manage to say a quiet “Oh.” as he slouched inward a bit.

“According to what Gyro’s told me about how that armor works, you were so tired that ya couldn’t work the thing properly. When ya can’t think straight, something that’s processed through your brain is goin’ to have trouble functioning.” Scrooge stated, and crossed his arms as he continued. “You’re just lucky no one got hurt. Including yourself.”

“But I- I thought for sure that I was handling it.” Fenton stammered out trying to process this information. “I thought I was fine.”

“Ya don’t become dead to the world for over a day if you’re fine Fenton.” Scrooge instantly scolded.

Fenton was so ashamed, and with how Mr. McDuck was looking at him, that pit in his stomach was growing (though that could be from the whole not eating much thing). He knew what was coming. So he did the only thing he could think of. Beg.

“I’m sorry. For everything Mr. McDuck.” he started tiredly. “I know you don’t have any reason to give me another chance, but please. Don’t take back the suit. I can still be Gizmoduck! I just wanted to help, but I’ll be more careful. I promise!”

Scrooge could hear the desperation in his voice. He just smiled and said “Take back the suit? Don’t be daft! No one is more fit to pilot that crazy contraption then you Cabrera. Y’know I wish more of my employees had your determination.” Fenton perked up a bit at that remark. “But you’ve got to learn to work smarter lad, not harder. I figured someone as clever as you would know that.”

Fenton processed that for a minute. He wasn’t quite sure how this all went wrong. At the time it made sense. He was just doing what he’d always wanted as much as he possibly could. After a moment of awkward silence, Fenton finally let it all out.

“I know. I mean, I should have known. It’s just- No one’s ever depended on me before. All I’ve ever wanted was to help people. Make the world better and more exciting in a way. And with Gizmoduck, I was finally given that chance. I guess I just, wanted to put everything I had into it. Prove that I really could do what no one thought I could. Not let anyone down. And if I was doing anything less, then I wasn’t really being a hero. If I pick and choose what’s important, what’s worth my efforts as the protector you asked me to be, how am I any better then, Waddleduck?” This whole confession was making Fenton exhausted all over again. This probably sounded ridiculous to his boss. “Not that you’d understand that. I mean, you’re Scrooge McDuck! There’s nothing you can’t handle.”

Fenton didn’t know what else to say. He was ready for Mr. McDuck to just leave him be. Instead, he sat next to him on the edge of the bed, with a world weary expression. “Fenton, I’ve been running one of the largest companies in the world and traveling all over the globe on life threatening adventures for over a hundred years. Ya think I don’t know what it’s like to feel overwhelmed?”

“A hundred ye- How old are you again?” Fenton asked perplexed. But he soon realized that that probably wasn’t what he was supposed to take away from that.

“My point is” Scrooge continued “That I understand wanting to do it all. Wanting to tackle absolutely everything. To feel that weight of responsibility every single day. In a way, I thrive on it. And maybe you do too. Always ready to dive into an exciting situation? That’s a great quality to have. But I also understand that if you do nothing but that, you’re eventually going to crash. I know it’s difficult to put priority on stuff like this. But I also know that if you don’t take the time to take care of yourself, soon yer not gonna be of any help to anybody. And then Gizmoduck won’t be there for anyone. Understand?”

Fenton did understand. He just lost track of so much in the desire to be a true hero, he stopped looking after himself. As the first signs of the light of dawn slowly rose over Duckburg, he still wasn’t quite sure how he was going to prioritize his time as Gizmoduck, but after this whole debacle, he realized all too clearly that if he didn’t, there wouldn’t be a Gizmoduck at all. And that’s the last thing he wanted. “Perfectly”

“That’s a good lad.” Scrooge said with a pat on the back as he stood up again. “But you still exhausted yerself pretty badly. It could have been worse, but I want you to stay here so we can look after ya. This counts as time off without pay of course.”

“Of course”

Scrooge continued as started to leave. “Just do as Beakley says, and you’ll be stopping the criminals of Duckburg again in no time.”

“Criminals!” Fenton gasped. He nearly forgot. “That artifact from the museum. Was it recovered?”

Scrooge stopped in his tracks “Not yet” he answered as he turned around. “I don’t supposed you know who was behind it, do ya?”

“It was some kind of robot. I remember it was pretty well built, but there weren’t many distinct features on it. Except.” Fenton paused as he was slowly putting the picture of that evil android together in his mind again.

“Except what?”

“There was something on it’s head. It looked kind of like the shape of a hat of some kind, but I didn’t get a very good look.”

Scrooge had a look like Fenton had most of the time. Of the gears turning rapidly in his head. Putting pieces together for the ultimate solution. He pulled something out of his jacket and held it up to Fenton. Pointing near the top he asked “Did it look anything like this?”

Fenton squinted to get a better look. The light still wasn’t great in here. It was a Polaroid of what looked like an angry screaming Flintheart Glomgold. But on his head, he recognized the shape. “Yes! That’s it!” Fenton confirmed “Except it was, y’know, metal.”

“Glomgold” Scrooge growled under his breath with a look of annoyance and disgust on his face. Crumpling the picture in his fist.

“Why would Flintheart Glomgold want to steal something you donated to the museum? If he gets caught it seems like it’s not really worth it.” Fenton asked.

“That doesn’t matter to Glomgold. We were both after this treasure, and I beat him to it. Not surprisingly.” Scrooge got a pretty smug look on his face at that last remark. “As long as he has it, he wins as far as he’s concerned. Guess he’s got more tricks up his sleeve then I thought.” Seemed like Scrooge was pondering what to do about this. “Well, if that’s the way he’s gonna play it, then I guess I’ll just have to take it back.”

“Let me help!” Fenton requested without a second thought. “Please Mr. McDuck. This is all my fault. Give me a chance to make it right. This time I’ll be firing on all cylinders.” Scrooge looked skeptical, but before he could say no, Fenton added “You saw something in me when you asked me to watch out for Duckburg. You just said that I was clever, and had determination. That no one was more fit to pilot the armor then me. Let me prove that. Prove that I can handle the weight of that suit and all it entails without falling apart.” Fenton was more determined then ever before. He’d messed up too many times. He wasn’t going to again.

Something in Scrooge’s countenance changed. If he didn’t know any better, he would have said Mr. McDuck looked, impressed. After a moment of consideration, he finally broke the silence “We can’t do anything until after dark anyway. Very well lad. As long as you take it easy the rest of the day, you can come.”

Fenton beamed with enthusiasm and quickly replied “Oh thank you sir!”

“I have some business to take care of, I’ll leave you be. Rest up.” As he was leaving the room, he turned to Fenton with a grin “We’ve got a big night ahead of us.” before he closed the door behind him.

If Fenton was going to make his mark as Gizmoduck, it was going to be now. If he wasn’t still, frankly pretty worn out, he’d be running around the room preparing. But it was probably for the best. Being forced to take it easy actually gave him more time to think. About the battle and how he could have done better. About the enemy’s arsenal, and during the periods he was awake the rest of the day, he was coming up with a way to counteract certain problems.

A/N: This is officially the longest chapter yet, but it’s probably my favorite yet. The story was originally going to end here, but after watching Fenton’s episodes again (all both of them) while Fenton does screw up, he does prove himself and make things right in the end, and I wanted to give him that here, which will be covered in the final chapter.

There’s also a small pointless Broadway musical reference in here  (Not the musical you’re probably thinking). It doesn’t connect to anything and it’s only there because I’ve been listening to the soundtrack lately. If anyone can figure it out, let me know. Look forward to the final chapter and i hope you enjoyed!