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feverinfeveroutfic · 2 years

Text

chapter twenty-nine: handful of rain

last chapter of veritas, oh my! it’s onto the ballad from here 🥂

It had been a few days since Greg had helped Sam into the elevator and then he stayed with her in her apartment for a time before he left himself. There wasn’t much that she could do outside of taking the elevator and short walks through the snow drifts so the scar tissue in her body could heal up better with time. Time and movement.

In the meantime, she was able to find herself a record player in a nearby music store and put Testament’s demo on; she put on the headphones for a listen herself. Indeed, Eric and Greg both employed much heavier and grittier guitar and bass riffs. Chuck began using a more ferocious, animalistic growl for vocals. Louie's clean, machine gun-like drumming was gone, and in his place, muttering busting sludgy beats that felt like underground explosions. And of course, there was the absence of Alex. His melodies and power and intellect had gone away in lieu of straight shredding. It was a good album, and nothing like Anthrax or Metallica in that Chuck and Eric still had plenty of soul to go about, especially if Eric’s willingness to be drawn was anything to go by. And yet, much like how Anthrax didn’t feel the same without Joey, she missed that special feeling there with them.

The lack of something special. The lack of something powerful.

James Murphy and John Bush filling in some rather large shoes right within her mind.

She gave Aurora a call that following weekend, and she caught the answering machine. Even after the accident, she still had to find her way to Aurora, the one who started it all with her there in New York.

In the meantime, she turned inward, to the scar tissue that surrounded her body and the bones which shattered in her wake. She pictured the pain on her knee in the form of a lotus flower: some day, she would be able to twist her legs around into the lotus position and she would be able to do it without an ounce of pain.

Sam reclined back on her couch with her injured leg propped upon a pillow and her drawing pad. With the pencil in her good hand, she sketched out the edges of the petals. She pictured her knee underneath the flower, wounded and held together with something that didn’t even belong inside of her body.

She knew that she would have to go under the knife again for another round to get those screws out. In the meantime, all she had was a bit of relaxing and walking about with the cane in hand.

In her late twenties and on house arrest. At least she could walk around and find her way to the market up the street in the meantime.

And yet, she still thought about Alex. She thought about Joey, too, but she mostly thought about Alex. He was still rather terse with her as well, and she wondered what she could do for him when the time came. If only she could prove to him that she meant what she said, especially when she kept things confidential and tried and true.

But she could help it when she got up again for a glass of water and a snack. She kept picturing him there on the couch with her, stripped down to his underwear for her and with a vase of oleanders nestled in between his legs. She pictured him on the floor with a bright red rose rested upon his chest. His lanky little body wrapped up in rich lush crushed velvet to accentuate everything. His jet-black curls fanned out from the back of his head and that sliver of gray spread up from his forehead.

Sam tilted her head back and closed her eyes. She lay her pencil down on the top of the paper, which she kept atop her thigh. She wished he was right there right next to her with tendrils of that black hair spread over the side of his face and the side of his neck. His collar popped open to show off his chest and his collar bones. Those fine bones, fine and hard and ready for her lips.

Alex lay there on the floor with his guitar right next to him, ready for her. His smooth cherry lips, smooth and sleek with the taste of sugar ready for her. His smooth porcelain skin ready for the kisses on her part.

She had to seduce him somehow, get him back to her.

“Come to mama, baby...” she whispered aloud. She had to get those words out of him. Get him out to mama. Get him back to her. She unbuttoned her jeans and she reached down inside of there; her skin there was warm.

Not the first time she had touched herself, but the first time she had touched herself in a long time nonetheless. Not the first time she had touched herself in between the legs dry.

Dry as a bone. Dry as those collar bones. Dry as another bone. Her hospital bills had left her dry, but not dry enough to not pay her rent for the next month. They also left her dry between the fingers as well.

Alex rolled over onto his side and his hips rose up a little bit from the surface of the floor. Even with his slender, elegant body, he had a beautiful curve around his hips and his rear end. The waist of his unbuttoned jeans rode down around his hips. Slim and stunning, and slightly full in the middle of his body; his thighs sinewy and sleek; his legs with such a beautiful, sensual shape. Sam nibbled on her bottom lip and she let her fingers creep near the rim.

The feeling of arousal was there but it ached inside of her pelvic region. She persisted and she ran her tongue along her bottom lip. Scar tissue there but she kept moving forth. She wanted him. She wanted him for herself.

He rolled over onto the backs of his thighs and he showed her some more skin on his waist. Smooth and delicate, and complete with that line of hair underneath his belly button. Showing more and more of that smooth skin without shedding that shirt or those jeans as well. He was perfect and gorgeous, in all of his beauty.

She thought about the time she made out with him in the back room of the studio back in San Francisco. Twirled in between the waves of the feeling of alcohol and the feeling of their presences with each other. She wished to feel him again, actually feel him next to her.

The fact he lay down on her hospital bed next to her and awaited her to wake up.

Sam nibbled on her bottom lip. Her fingers slithered over her lips and she pictured him right there before her. His body intertwined with hers.

Scar tissue still there but she kept on moving forward. It was all at her fingertips. It was all within her lips. All within her hand. All within the palm of her hand.

She was getting too old for this and she was sure of it. But she wanted to feel it more and more until she couldn’t anymore.

He lifted himself up onto his elbow, right there down on the floor, and he gazed up at her. His hair stayed tousled on the back of his head and along the edge of his shoulder. His deep-set eyes burned back at her like a pair of cherries on the ends of cigarettes. His lips pouted a bit enough as if to beckon more than a kiss from her. He showed her the tip of his tongue and he bowed his head a bit as if to seduce her for the hottest sex she had ever experienced in her life.

He slithered his legs forth and gestured for her to come closer to him.

Come closer. Come.

She gasped at the feeling of her fingers between her lips. She opened her eyes and she gazed up at the ceiling overhead. The last thing she saw before the fantasy fizzled out was Alex showing her his pouted lips once more, complete with his eyes closed.

A knock on the door caught her off guard. Sam took her hand out of her pants and she extended her other leg out towards the top of the couch arm.

“It’s open,” she called out; she had lived in New York long enough to wonder if she was beginning to develop an accent. It was hard to tell, especially since she had no way of knowing for sure. Belinda poked her blonde head in and showed her a grin.

“Hey,” she greeted her in a light whisper.

“Hey, Bel!” Sam replied. She couldn’t sit upright all the way and with a bit of effort as well. Belinda bowed into the room with her hands outstretched for her. Sam's back ached and the scar tissue on her ribs and in her pelvic bone throbbed in agony, and her head spun around. But she sat up anyway.

“My whole entire body hurts like hell,” she confessed to Belinda. “It especially hurts in my hipbones.”

“Well, look at it like this—we’ve got our very own Frida Kahlo with us,” Belinda assured her. “Horribly injured in a traffic accident and survived and then you came back with the artistry.”

“I hope so, anyway,” Sam told her with a rub of her uninjured knee and then the top of her thigh. Belinda showed her a bottle of brandy and Sam wondered if that was the same bottle that Marla had before when Alex last visited her. Sam peered off to the side and she hesitated for a second.

“What’s the matter?” Belinda asked her.

“What’s the date today?”

“The eighteenth.” Belinda poured her a glass full of brandy as well as one for herself. Sam took the glass and brought it closer to her chest.

“I’m twenty-nine in a couple of days,” she announced with a raise of her glass.

“Twenty-nine and proud to be alive, I would assume?” Belinda said.

“Yes, actually.”

They clinked glasses together and drank down the brandy in unison.

“Before the accident,” Belinda started, “I'm sure you know that Mar offered to take you and me both to Coney Island.”

“Oh, yeah. That was—one of the first things I remembered when I woke up, actually.”

“Well, Lars called us a couple of days ago and he offered to take us all with him there as well.”

“When?”

“He told us that it’s a ways off—like the middle of May or something. Before the Memorial Day crowds come in and take everything from us.”

“I’ll take it,” Sam replied. They took another sip of brandy in unison and then Belinda nodded her head.

“Hard to believe you guys moved,” Sam confessed.

“It was what we had to do,” Belinda told her.

“You know I would’ve been more than happy to help you both, too.”

“Oh, absolutely! We actually had Zelda come help us move and she was like, ‘god, I wish Sam was here right now.’ Because we picked out a nice apartment in a neighborhood of Scarsdale filled with other artists, believe it or not. It's a lot like here, except it’s a bit more ‘down home’, I want to call it. It's nothing like here in the city.”

“So you really think I’m your very own Frida Kahlo?” Sam asked her.

“You should totally go all Frida, Sam,” Belinda encouraged her. “With the state that you’re in and the fact that we’re all getting older, you might as well.”

A loud ringing noise caught the attention of the both of them, and Belinda turned to her handbag.

“What was that?” Sam asked her, and Belinda took out a big black brick shaped phone. She took out the antenna with the tips of her fingers and pressed a button.

“Hello?” she answered. “Oh, hey, Mar! Yeah, I just got here.” Her face then turned serious. “What? No! You're kidding!”

Sam gaped at her.

“Yeah, okay,” Belinda replied. “Okay, I'll be right there.” She pressed another button on the keypad and put the antenna back.

“What happened?” Sam demanded.

“Marla just had to take Genie to the vet. She doesn’t know what’s wrong with her.”

“Oh, no.” Sam shook her head at that.

“She had her for such a long time,” Belinda said in a soft voice; she then picked up the brandy glass and downed the rest of it in one fell swoop.

“Yeah, I remember when we found her,” Sam recalled. “She and Charlie were still living together.” Belinda put the cap back on the bottle’s mouth and tucked it under her arm.

“Want me to come with you?” Sam offered her, and she shuddered at the thought of Belinda driving up to Scarsdale alone after she had a full glass of fermented wine.

“Nah, but I know who to call, though.” She took out the brick again and dialed a number, and then she brought it up to her ear once more. “Frankie! Hi, yeah, it’s Belinda. What're you doing right now?” Silence, except for Sam sipping on her brandy some more. The smoothness of the alcohol warmed her from the inside, all around the achy feeling of the scar tissue. “Okay, well—listen. Marla just had to take Genie to the vet and I had a glass of brandy so I need a ride.” More silence. “Okay! Yeah, I'm at Sam’s apartment complex.” Another pause. “Okay, I’ll see you then. And I'll give her a hug for you, too.”

“Hi, Frankie!” Sam called out.

“She says ‘hi’, too,” Belinda chuckled. “Okay, I'll see you soon. Buh-bye.” She put the antenna back and then she leaned forward with her arms open for her. “Oh, yeah, you’re tender.” She held back and gazed down at Sam’s face. “Go and be Miss Kahlo for a while. At least until you’re able to walk comfortably.” Without another word, she left the room and headed back out to the hallway, and Sam was once again alone with her thoughts.

But she took it to heart. She kept her legs outstretched on the couch to keep the blood flowing and she spent her twenty-ninth birthday alone with her drawing pad as well as a pot of hot soup against the incoming blizzard.

She soon found out that Genie had a bit of a stroke and went blind in her right eye, but that meant Marla had to take extra care of her after their days at the glass shop.

The days became longer as Sam made more art to relish in her pain and her less than active body, although the nurses told her to stay active and move around as much as she could to keep the blood flowing. Scars were forever but she could move about and through the pain. But even with the amount of movement and the inability to stay in one spot for very long, she soon found that her old jeans didn’t quite button up all the way on her waist. Indeed, she could feel herself having grown a bit softer and fuller there and she had no idea if it was the lack of good exercise or more scar tissue coming in around her hips.

She still flashed back on when she had gained a little weight and she wished for Cliff’s hand on her. That time around, however, the last thing she wanted was someone to touch her, not with the stubborn, persistent soreness in her back, her ribs, her hips, and her left leg. Nothing time wouldn’t heal, especially when she finally went back to the hospital for surgery in the middle of March: no more screws in her knee so it could better heal on its own. That, however, meant she had to keep on walking around with a cane.

Belinda was kind enough to carve her a cane handle out of a nice thick strip of teakwood and paint it red and black for her, and then she tied a yellow tulip and a hot pink five petaled flower that reminded her of an oleander at the base of the handle. Paired with her hat and her black jacket, she looked as though she could cast a spell on the next person who dared say anything bad about her nude drawing of Cliff. At least that was according to Scarlett.

And over the span of a whole month, Sam’s face had grown a bit rounder and smoother, like that of the full moon at night and her body a bit more on the shapely side. Scars were forever and they added to her hips and thighs, especially when she took a good long look at them in the mirror. She hadn’t seen any of the boys since Greg left her apartment after they checked her out of the hospital: she hoped they would at least recognize her when she was able to see them again. That is, if she saw any of them again.

Indeed, come the middle of May and everything in New York had returned to full bloom, Lars showed up at her apartment complex with a full scraggly beard and his hair streamed behind his head, he almost gasped when he saw Sam in that black hat and one of her old black blouses, now extra snug on her body. The pain still lingered in her body but at least at that point, she was able to move about like a regular passerby.

“Oh, my,” he declared.

“Get your grievance out, Lars,” she told him with a shake of her head; she took a glimpse down at her full hips and her waist, now officially round as it poked out over the band of her jeans. “I know, I gained almost fifty pounds in the last six months. I need new bras and my underwear’s cutting off my circulation—I just a whole new wardrobe. I'm a fat pig of a woman now. I've got this big potbelly and everything is overly soft now. I don’t even know how to explain it to my parents when I can see them again.”

“No, no, Sam,” Lars assured her with a wave of his hand, “—you—you look amazing.”

“You think so?”

“You are, what they call ‘voluptuous’, my dear. Really. I think everybody on Coney Island is going to have their eye on you. All full-figured and healthy. You look like you’ve recovered. You've made a full recovery and now you’re beautifully plump and healthy. How are you, by the way?”

“I’m still in pain, but it’s not nearly as bad as it was.” She locked the door and then tucked the key into her handbag: she could feel the double under her chin, a first for her.

“By the way, I should tell you,” he began as they strode down the hallway together to the elevator, “that Joey is putting out a solo album soon.”

“Aw, right on, Joey!” she remarked. “Something to show the world that you can in fact get it on your own.”

“Hopefully, it can be something fresh and new in the wake of the alternative movement,” Lars added. “It is good music, it’s just—different.”

“Hence the name,” Sam pointed out.

“Exactly, right!”

They took the elevator downstairs and then he held the door for her. The late morning sun shone over the New York skyline, and she was greeted by an excited Zelda, a somber Marla and Belinda, and John Bush with that fedora on his head. The four of them awaited her before a big white van with big windows at the back and Sam flashed back on when she and Testament travelled over to Germany together. Another memory that felt like a lifetime ago.

“There she is,” he declared once they came within earshot.

“Holy shit, Sam, you look fantastic!” Zelda declared.

“So do you, Zelda,” she retorted back as she put on her sunglasses.

“I always thought you would look better with some weight, to be honest,” John confessed. “I remember when I first met you, you were so thin.”

“Bring out the corsets and the black lace,” Marla joked, and he burst out laughing.

“So—it's gonna be just the five of us?” Sam asked them with a straight face.

“Actually, Sam,” Belinda started. “Alex is going to meet us there. Alex, and... I think Charlie’s gonna be there and Chuck and Tiffany and their little boy, too.”

“Alex is gonna be there, though,” Sam said, and she wondered how she would it go from there with him.

“The band that he’s in—I guess they dedicated their lead single to you. Forget what it’s called, though. Something—rain.”

“’Handful of Rain’?” Marla filled in.

“I think that’s it, yeah. But that’s what I've heard, though.” Belinda flashed her a wink and Sam could feel the warmth cross her face. She took to the front passenger seat next to John, while Marla, Belinda, and Zelda took to the back and Lars in the way back section. John peered into the mirror and then he put on his sunglasses as well. Within moments, he fired up the van and they proceeded the long ride over to Coney Island.

Sam thought back to when they all had first met and they drove down to L’Amour together. She hoped that Stormtroopers of Death would start something again. Something about being in the managerial position, and especially when she looked down at her new body.

The pieces were there before her: she just had to reassemble them again.

“So, with Cobain gone now—what's this mean now?” John wondered aloud at one point as they crossed the Brooklyn Bridge.

“Don’t really know,” Zelda confessed. “We were supposed to tour with them and L7 this summer, too. Our latest single didn’t too well, either, which was a real downer for us...” Her voice trailed off, and if only Sam could tell her that the Cherry Suicides were acquainted with struggle. But then again, she didn’t have to remind her of that.

They zipped down the spine of Long Island towards the expressway which in turn took them down to Brighton Beach and then Coney Island. At that point, the sun hung over their heads and Sam could feel the ravenous sensation of her new body within her.

John pulled into the parking lot and near the entrance, complete with the smell of French fries and spun sugar, she spotted that plume of gray over a crown of black hair paired with those mirrored sunglasses. Even with her cane, Sam climbed out first and she ambled over to him. She tugged down her shirt with her free hand and then adjusted the brim of her hat. He then peered over his sunglasses at her, stunned by the sight before him.

“Hi,” she greeted him.

“Hi...” Alex breathed out, and he glanced down at her body. “You look—you look—” He could hardly speak.

“It’s what I get for sitting on my ass for months on end,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders. “Forty, fifty pounds, maybe more. I don’t know...”

“No, no, it’s—it's what you had to do.” He showed her a little smirk. Lars said something behind her and then Zelda burst out laughing. Sam turned around and the two of them were dancing under one of those big beach umbrellas with leis around their necks, while John and Marla were already buying themselves drinks.

Sam then returned to Alex, who took off his mirrored sunglasses and locked eyes with her for a moment.

“Yeah, you look—you look really good,” he told her. For a second, she swore that he winked at her.

“So do you,” she told him in a low voice.

“We’re both gonna be here a while,” he assured her.

#fanfic #fanfiction #testament fanfic #chapter 29 #book five #veritas #fever in fever out #fever in fever out fanfic #lars ulrich #john bush #alex skolnick #oc tag #also on ao3 #writing #slice of life #text #slow burn

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knightinarmor28 · 3 years

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Hello Kamila,

Please give us your top ten Louis moments this year. Sending you love ❤️ 🐥

Hello Sea! Also greetings to everyone who's going to read this :)

Sooo it took a whole day (and a night) to think thoroughly about my top ten Louis moments this year, but I tried my best!

Disclaimer: I got to know Louis & his music only last December, but the more I learned about the fandom, the more I started to realise that Louis is the only man ever who deserves a whole world. Every day I thank god/universe/fate for introducing Louis to me and now I'm very proud to call myself a solo-louie and to stan this absolutely talented, creative, intelligent & thoughtful person.

Here we go!

1) "Walls" release! It's a bit blurred in my memory already, but I clearly remember the night when I was sitting in the kitchen alone and listening to this absolute masterpiece. I was truly impressed! The melodies!! The lyrics!! The vocals!! The instruments!! I think, honestly, Walls is the only album with no skips for me. Every song's in its place. Amazing.

2) Louis' first two shows in Barcelona and Madrid. I was watching both of them live 😍 (big thanks to everyone who shared the links). I have no words to describe it, but there were definitely goosebumps on my skin because of the fact that Louis was singing live at that very moment...wonderful memories. (No virus, no quarantine, no worries — happy days!)

3) All the times Louis came to twitter to greet us with his "hope you're doing alright! I love you all" 🥺

There were really bad days for me during spring, and every time I felt somehow depressed because of all the stress, (I don't know how) Louis tweeted something nice at that very moment! The emotional support, the hope, the love, the care — it's all about Louis Tomlinson. Those moments helped me to literally feel the connection not only between Louis and the whole fandom, but also between Louis and me individually. He just knew the right moment. God bless him.

4) The day he parted with Syco — it was a true celebration. I was alone at home that day and —interestingly— I felt extremely peaceful and calm that evening, maybe because I was already anticipating good news from Louis :) Afterwards it was insane. I even printed the tweet and pinned it on my wall! One of the happiest day for me ever!!

5) THAT PHOTO OF LOUIS WITH LONG HAIR!!! WITHOUT A HAT!!! SMILING!!! I nearly cried because of finally seeing his beautiful face. My true love 😊

6) His Instagram selfies! Ohh and that photo of Louis playing guitar outside 😍 Although we know he's a bit camera shy, all of the photos took my breath away.

beautiful beautiful beautiful beautiful

7) October the 1st! Big day for louies & Louis — bringing Walls back to the first places of numerous international iTunes charts — amazing! Louis was so happy that day, and this is the only thing thar matters, so yeah! Great memory! chaotic Louis rise 🥳

8) The way Louis always shows his golden heart: silently supporting charities and funds, asking fans to spread love and care about the most vulnerable ones, sharing petitions, raising awareness about important social issues and so on. This is extremely important. So humble, down to earth, understanding and wise. I'm enormously proud.

9) Sorry but that teaser for the livestream 🥵🥵🥵

We finally heard his voice!!! After nine months of silence!!! And his vocals!!! AND HIS AMAZING LONG HAIR covered with a damn hat. And just the way he uploaded it???? Just like that???? «See you Saturday!» oKAY sir how were I supposed to wait then

Anyway it was worth it, which we all know perfectly well :))))

10) THE LIVESTREAM OF THE YEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm still not over and I don't even know how to describe it. Just Louis singing. Solely. With his band playing behind him. The lights. The colours. The staging. HIS VOICE. THE NEW INSTRUMENTAL ARRANGEMENTS. Oh god.

AND THE NEW SONG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 😫😫😫😫

Louis Tomlinson did THAT. The best live show in my life so far. I was smashed with Louis' talent & his creative mind. No thoughts head empty. Louis Tomlinson Live from London only.

(thank you @silverfoxlou for the gif)

That's it! Thank you for asking me, I had a great time writing this all out 😊

«another big win for us today! And they never see us coming»

#louis tomlinson #top ten Louis moments of 2020

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waveypedia · 4 years

Text

Key to a Memory

(warning for swearing)

{people need a melody to open their eyes

like a key to a memory frozen in time

holding on to everything, you’re stuck in the past

boy dontcha know that the world moves fast

it’s been a little while since we’ve been together

it’s been a long time since we were young and wild, remember

when we were friends, remember}

May 14, 2019 I 6:26 pm

UNKNOWN NUMBER: GYRO

UNKNOWN NUMBER: HEY GYRO

UNKNOWN NUMBER: It’s me Della!! Your bud!!!

UNKNOWN NUMBER: I’m back from space!!!

UNKNOWN NUMBER: I can’t believe you have the same number you nerd! lol I remember when Uncle Scrooge finally forced you to get a phone and you got a super cheap one and then upgraded it with your own tech

UNKNOWN NUMBER: I can’t wait to see how much more upgraded and fancy your phone is now!

UNKNOWN NUMBER: sorry for not texting you sooner I got back a couple days ago but things have just been really hectic since then ya know??

UNKNOWN NUMBER: anyway I know you’re probably busy changing the world and inventing amazing things for Uncle Scrooge

UNKNOWN NUMBER: he told me you got an intern!! Congrats!! I can’t wait to meet them

UNKNOWN NUMBER: just call me when you get a chance ok? I’d really like to catch up

“GYRO!!” Della screamed, kicking open the door to the lab. Gyro scowled at his desk and scrawled a quick note to outfit the elevator with self-opening doors. The scientist sighed and stood up reluctantly, stepping around his desk to be in full view. “What is it now, Della?”

Della sprinted into the lab, her grin threatening to split her face in two. She exuberantly waved a bundle of papers in Gyro’s face. “Donnie and I got tickets to the new Galaxy Wars movie, and you’re coming!! Thursday at 6!! Be there or be square!!”

Gyro snorted and gently waved her off, pushing the tickets out of his face. “Dels, I’m busy here. Besides, any self-respecting scientist knows those movies are garbage.”

Della fake-pouted and slung her arm around Gyro’s shoulders, despite the height difference. She had to lean and go up on her tiptoes to manage, making Gyro burst out in a fit of laughter. She shrugged, tugging Gyro down to her height. “Whatever. The premiere was a couple weeks ago, so you probably won’t get into a fistfight with an overzealous fan this time-”

“-Their fault-” Gyro muttered under his breath as Della prattled on.

“-Aaaaaand Cousin Gladdy’ll be there! With his luck we probably won’t get kicked out by the ushers,” Della finished proudly.

Gyro rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Ugh, Gladstone? That man is too self-absorbed. Takes one to know one. And does that mean Fethry will be there as well?”

“Yep!” Della beamed. “He loves science, Gy, and he loves you! He’ll grow on you one day.”

“Highly unlikely.” Gyro shoved her arm off and stretched, standing up to his full height. “I grudgingly respect Fethry’s passion and his interest in scientific fields. He’s just so…” Gyro huffed. “Annoying.”

Della poked him in the beak. “Whatever. If you think Fethry’s annoying, my buddy Loopy from flight school will be there and she’ll blow your mind. But in a good way! Loopy’s amazing!”

Gyro groaned and slapped a hand on his face, slowly dragging it down. “Loopy and I are your only friends, aren’t we?”

Della puffed her chest out in mock effrontery. “I have lots of friends! I’m the best at making friends! They’re just all over the globe, you know, cause of all the amazing and daring adventuring I do!”

Gyro snorted and knocked his friend with his shoulder. “Whatever. When one of these international ‘friends’ comes around to Duckburg and hangs out with you beyond the adventure, let me know.”

Della smirked. “So you’ll be there?”

“Fine. I’ll be there.” Gyro affirmed, rolling his eyes.Della beamed mischievously. “Wonderful! See you there! Also it’s a sleepover and I’m adding you to a group chat specifically for this event now byeeeeee!!!”

“WHAT?!” Gyro squawked, racing after Della, but the elevator dinged and carried her far away. “Della! No! Come back! DELLA!!! I WILL NOT SUBJECT MYSELF TO THE TORTURES OF YOUR CHILDISH SLEEPOVER!!!” He chanced a look at his phone. It was already blowing up with texts from Della and Fethry.

Gyro groaned and slammed his head down on his desk, grateful for the solitude of his lab. He pulled up the calendar Scrooge filled with his deadlines from the board and added the movie night so he wouldn’t forget. A small, pleased smile played at his beak.

He picked up his phone, muted the group chat, and returned to his work.

read 9:28 pm

May 15 I 4:03 pm

Della Duck: hey dumbass

Della Duck: they have read receipts now stupid

Della Duck: I know you saw my messages

Della Duck: whatever I know you’re hella busy just call me when you get the chance

Della Duck: hahah did you see that? hella! I used new slang!

Della Duck: Louie taught it to me :D

Della Duck: I can’t believe his name is Louie and not Rebel! I’m kinda mad at Donald but also it suits him more than Rebel

Della Duck: Dewey though… he’s DEFINITELY a Turbo

Della Duck: Huey could go either way but he’s okay with Huey so I guess I am too

Della Duck: It’s a lot to take in

Della Duck: although Webby would be overjoyed to be Jet or Rebel

Della Duck: I can’t believe I have an extra daughter!!! how cool is that?? four kids for the price of three!!

Della Duck: or maybe it’s more like six kids for the price of three since Webby had friends over today and they all seem close

Della Duck: Ooh you know who would be a good Rebel? Lena! apparently she just came back from the shadow realm??? I missed so much

Della Duck: i can’t believe you guys got to fight magica de spell without me AND she had a kid

Della Duck: she’s still kinda hot ngl

Della Duck: but louie showed me a picture of her after she lost her magic and ehhhh

Della Duck: but also there are lots of hot people around these days and I’m kinda freaked out

Della Duck: like I made a best friend of my roommate on the moon!! Her name’s Penumbra but I call her Penny and I’d let her stomp on me. Best part is she probably would

Della Duck: also Uncle Scrooge got a new pilot & driver and I hate him cause he’s sorta replacing me?? But also he’s hot in a himbo kinda way

Della Duck: I know you have insanely high standards but you gotta back me up here gyro Launchpad is kinda hot

Della Duck: damn i’ve missed our conversations about various hot people and our lack of love lives

Della Duck: I told you about Penny you gotta fill me in on the current hotties in the Duckburg science community

Della Duck: I also met your intern! He seems nice ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ) ;) ;) ;)

Della Duck: i can hear your voice. “Della that is an excessive amount of emoticons”

Della Duck: well if you want me to stop you’ll just have to reply ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;)

Della Duck: at least you’re not telling me to use “emojis”Della Duck: apparently they all have hidden meanings and I don’t understand

Della Duck: Louie, Dewey, and Lena tried to teach Uncle Scrooge and I

Della Duck: I’m ashamed to say I think he fared better than I did

Della Duck: he’s old!! He’s supposed to be clueless!! I’m not old I was just on the moon for a decade!! That’s gotta count for something right?

4:46 pm

Della Duck: i see how it is

Della Duck: ignore me all you want but i’m right

The sun was nearly below the horizon, painting the evening sky and the waves below it in a plethora of muted colors, when Della broke the topic. “Yo. I think Magica de Spell is kinda hot.”

Gyro swerved to stare at her so fast he felt something in his neck crack. “Magica?! She’s ancient; are you crazy?!”

Della shrugged, kicking sand around absentmindedly with her bare toes. “Yeah, but she doesn’t look it. She’s hot in an unattainable kind of way.”

Gyro snorted, loud and sad. “I know how that feels.”

Della nudged him teasingly. “What’s going on in your love life? I shared, now you have to.”

Gyro rolled his eyes and nudged her back, harder. “You know nothing’s happening.” He shrugged carelessly. “It’s not like I have much time outside of work.”

“Yeah, but that’s because you refuse to take care of yourself and you act like you’ll die if you leave the lab,” Della said good-naturedly. “You should come on an adventure with us!”

Gyro sighed contentedly and waved her away. “I’ll stick to the lab, thanks. My inventions’ corrupted morality circuits provide me quite enough stress and adventure, thank you very much.”

(He couldn’t very well tell her that her dear ol’ uncle had entrusted him with the project of a lifetime, his chance to thank her for her gift of friendship, his chance to prove himself to Mr. McDuck for once and for all, his chance to redeem himself from the smoking failure that was 2BO. He didn’t have to run himself ragged working on the Spear of Selene day and night, but this was important, far more important than anything Gyro had worked on at McDuck Industries before. For his career, and for his friendship. And he wanted to do it right.)

(Shame he failed in the end anyway.)

Della sighed assent, smiling, and leaned back on her elbows, working her fingers into the sand. She had given up for now, but Gyro knew she would broach the subject again soon, from a new angle, with a new tactic. Della Duck never gave up.

“Maybe one day,” Gyro said, surprising himself. After this whole Spear debacle is said and done.

Della beamed and knocked her shoulder into his affectionately. “I’ll hold you to that!”

Gyro smiled wryly. “I know you will.”

Gyro pushed up his glasses and studied Della’s texts, willing his eyes not to unfocus and his brain not to zone out. He read them once, twice, three times. Four.

He began typing.

Gyro Gearloose: I remember-

Gyro Gearloose: My love life is as nonexistent as it was when you left-

Gyro Gearloose: emojis are zealous anyway-

Gyro Gearloose: I’m sorry-

He deleted his words, frustrated, nerves and old, painful memories rubbed raw, and never sent a reply.

June 11 I 2:09 pm

Della Duck: so Fenton and I went out for coffee today

Della Duck: not on a date, just as a chance to get to know each other platonically

Della Duck: he’s so much like you

Della Duck: not on the surface. In fact you guys are pretty much opposites

Della Duck: but you both care so much, even though you show it differently

Della Duck: i know you care your prickly demeanor can’t fool me

Della Duck: you’re both incredibly passionate about sciences

Della Duck: you’re both super awkward

Della Duck: he has high praise for you, and he really admires you, but it sounds like you’re not that close and I think you totally should be!

Della Duck: I know you’re probably annoyed that I’m meddling in your (love) life again, but get used to it!! I’m the best wingman and friend and I’m here to stay!!

Della Duck: even if you don’t text me back

Della Duck: (but seriously, please text me back. I miss you.)

Della Duck: he said you might need some space and I guess that makes sense but i just don’t understand why

Della Duck: that’s the only reason I haven’t stormed down to the lab by now

Della Duck: Did i do something before I took off for the moon?

Della Duck: or are you like Donnie and you’re mad?Della Duck: at least I think Donnie’s mad

Della Duck: or he will be

Della Duck: he’s on a cruise, Gyro! A fucking cruise!!!

Della Duck: he left the day I got back and now he’s gone for a fucking month

Della Duck: he thinks I’m dead

Della Duck: I miss him so much

Della Duck: the cruise doesn’t allow cell phones so I can’t even contact him and tell him I’m alive

Della Duck: But Huey and I sent postcards!! I don’t know if they’ll reach him but I really hope they do

Della Duck: Huey and Webby have been checking the mailbox meticulously to see if he sends one back

Della Duck: sorry for ranting

Della Duck: I just miss him

Della Duck: I miss you too you know? Yeah i’m being stupid sappy again but it’s dumb that you’re right here, across the city, and we haven’t talked

Della Duck: call me gyro you fucking coward

2:43 pm

Della Duck: also Fenton is totally Gizmoduck right

Della Duck: I met Gizmoduck once when he came to formally greet me

Della Duck: and i’ve seen him around the city lots

Della Duck: but they’re so similar. They have the same mannerisms

Della Duck: I guess that means you built his armor then right?

Della Duck: or you helped

Della Duck: it’s great Gyro

Della Duck: look at you! An invention that didn’t turn evil!!

Della Duck: I’m proud of you bud

“Have you ever thought about hiring someone to help in the lab?” Della asked one day, apropos of nothing.

She had dragged Gyro into a fancy coffee shop - one he’d probably be banned from had he attempted to patronize it on his own, and one he would be in the post-Spear of Selene era - and forced him to take a break from the top secret project he’d been devoting all his time to. They bought overpriced, bougie coffees on Mr. McDuck’s dime and traded jabs without any real bite to them, as was customary for them. Della mocked Gyro’s unique taste for black licorice, again. Same old, same old.

And then, this.

Gyro paused, his ceramic mug halfway to his face. “I’m fine on my own. Any help would only get in my way. They would stumble over their own feet and I would have to take precious time off of my own projects to tediously help them flail and fall.”

Della set down her coffee and leaned forward with her elbows on the table. “You’re so cynical. Besides, you’re working yourself to death down there! It might help if you had someone else to lighten the load.”

Gyro paused. “I suppose I might be more productive if I didn’t have to do the menial tasks beneath me…”

“-And you could make a FRIEND!!!” Della cheered, standing up and leaning heavily on the table, her enthusiasm thundering in full-force. “Someone to chat with on late nights deep in projects, someone who understands your passion for science, someone you can count on when Donnie and I are off on an adventure!”

Gyro groaned, startled at first but then settling into resignation. “I should have known you had an ulterior motive.”

Della giggled, batting her eyelashes jokingly. “I only have your best interests at heart.”

Gyro shrugged and swirled his quickly-cooling coffee around in his mug. “Besides, Dels, you know there’s a reason you’re one of my only friends, right? You and Dickie and Daisy, you’re the people I’m closest with and that’s because you wouldn’t put up with my prickly, stay-alone-all-the-time bullshit. You guys drag me out of whatever place I’m holed up in kicking and screaming. Most people are not like that. I’m lucky to have three of you,” he admitted in the kind of moment of uncharacteristic vulnerability and clarity that only comes when you’re with someone you really trust.

Della snorted and reached across the table to shove Gyro gently. “Shut your self-depricating hole, Gyro Gearloose. Trust me, I wouldn’t put up with you if I didn’t want to.”

Gyro smirked, a small smile chasing away the dark storm clouds that covered his face. “I know, Dels.”

“Good.” Della replied self-assuredly. “I love Dickie and Daisy, and I love that they love you, but they’re not local. You need more friends, Gyro.”

“Maybe,” Gyro hummed softly, the closest he would ever come to admitting it. “But it’s even harder to get along with coworkers, and the chances of my subordinate being someone who actually wants to be friends with me is abysmal.”

Della shrugged. “Sometimes you learn to like each other. Like me ‘n Donnie! We drive each other crazy, but we have each other’s backs when it matters, and we’re always there for each other.”

Gyro snorted. “This hypothetical person and I will be coworkers, Dels, not siblings. That’s different. Besides, you and Donald love each other too much to be healthy.”

“Yeah, but Donnie and Uncle Scrooge and I are a little like coworkers, aren’t we? Adventuring is our job, and it’s very stressful at times,” Della said.

Gyro shook his head. “Dels, honestly, you have to get a job at some point. Mr. McDuck won’t let you leech off of him for much longer now, and you have no experience. It’s really not the same.”

Della shrugged. “At some point. I know Uncle Scrooge is biting at the bit, especially after Donnie joined the Navy, but I don’t want the responsibilities and schedules of work to tie me down and take me away from adventuring, you know? It’s the same reason I didn’t go off to college.”

“I still think you should have,” Gyro replied, smiling wryly. “You’re bright and you’d flourish being able to study what you choose.”

“I learn a lot adventuring,” Della replied smugly, stubborn as always. “I can speak seven languages fluently, you know!”

“Even if most of them are dead, or belong to otherworldly beings from alternate dimensions,” Gyro pointed out.

Della sighed contentedly and shook her head. “Whatever. What’s done is done, and I’ll get a job someday. But just think about it, Gyro, all right?” She locked gazes with Gyro pleadingly.

Gyro sighed in defeat. “Fine. I will give it some thought. But don’t get your hopes up, all right?”

Della smirked. “Whatever you say.”

Gyro put his head in his hands, roughly shoving aside his expensive coffee. (He was lucky it didn’t crash and burn, like most of his inventions.)

She’s not gonna win this one, Gyro aggressively promised himself. I can’t subject anyone else to my bullshit.

(The only reason he assented and allowed an intern on, in the future, was because Scrooge all but ordered it. He saw firsthand the way having positive people around improves lives and wanted that for Gyro too, especially with Della gone and Donald barely speaking to him. And if Mr. McDuck’s not-so-subtle hints and gentle persuasion-turned direct orders gave Gyro crystal-clear flashbacks to Della’s not-so-gentle prodding, and if he cried that night after his boss left, well, no one would be anyone the wiser.)

(He got quite lucky with Fenton and Manny, though. Some of that was the Board's thorough vetting process, but some of it was Scrooge himself intervening, because he wanted Gyro to make a friend as badly as Della had.)

August 15 I 7:26 pm

Della Duck: all right

Della Duck: I talked to Fenton again

Della Duck: i’m sorry for bothering you

Della Duck: it hurts to not talk to you but I’m gonna give you your space

Della Duck: I’m here whenever you’re ready

Della Duck: but please be ready soon Gyro i’m impatient

I know you are, Gyro nearly whispered as he read the texts. It felt like a finality, a surrender. But that couldn’t be right, because Della Duck never gave up.

How could he and his stupid, stupid inability to communicate his feelings and face his irrational fears be the one thing that forced Della Duck to admit defeat?

(read 7:58 pm)

The McDuck Annual Holiday Party was in full swing when Gyro arrived quietly. Launchpad had offered to drive him with Fenton, Manny, and Scrooge when they left a couple of hours ago, but Gyro had stayed to put the finishing touches on his current project, lest he lose his motivation.

That was the only reason. Not because Della would be there, and he might be forced to talk to her. No, sir.

Gyro clenched his fists so tight his knuckles turned white in the pockets of his vest. Who was he kidding? He wasn’t fooling himself, and he certainly wasn’t fooling his friends family coworkers. Every single one of them, even Mr. McDuck (now that was painful) had tossed him a look that ranged from disappointed to knowing to pitying as they left for the party. It made Gyro want to scream in rage and slam his fists against the wall until they were bruised and bloody. But even he knew that was unacceptable party behavior. (Mrs. Beakley had humiliatingly taken him aside for a quick rundown on which of his usual behaviors were not applicable at company parties.)

Steeling himself for a night of faux cheer and passive-aggressive conversations, Gyro quietly opened the door and slipped inside. Skirting on the outskirts of the party, he scanned the room desperately for allies to swarm to and enemies to avoid.

He spotted Fenton and Launchpad first, amicably chatting up the legendary Greek hero Storkules and his sister, the equally inexplicable and ethereal goddess Selene. (A mystery to unpack at a later date.) Beside them was the gruff Moonlander that Della seemed to love.

Gyro set his jaw. He could handle chatty immortals and aggressive aliens. At least they probably wouldn’t have a personal vendetta against him because of a malfunctioning invention or a poorly placed comment. He waded determinedly through the sluggish crowd, surprisingly stopped a couple times by friendly faces. (Boyd’s hug of greeting lasted almost three minutes, and that didn’t even account for the rest of the overzealously affectionate kids.)

Looking back, he’s lucky his the kids stalled him, because when he finally emerged from Webby’s hug, his eyes locked on his own personal horror story.

Della.

This was the first time Gyro had actually seen her since she’d come back from the moon. Her hair was longer, if only slightly, and her metal leg gleamed in the light from the chandeliers above. (His fingers itched to get his hands on it and upgrade it, toy with it, make it into a personal project, but he adamantly refused himself.)

Alongside the physical differences, Gyro noticed some changes to her demeanor as well. She seemed more… weathered, and tired, despite the ever-present spark of energy she seemed to radiate and her unwavering grin. It was cliché, and Dr. Gyro Gearloose hated clichés with a passion, but she had an almost haunted look in her eyes, contrasting her radiating cheery energy.

She was different, and he was different. So much time had passed. It seemed almost impossible that the duck in front of him was the same duck that Gyro had shared coffee and secrets with almost daily ten years ago.

And yet he yearned to return to their easy friendship. Not for the first time, Gyro wished desperately to go back in time a decade and stop the Spear of Selene from ever happening.

Della slipped between Penumbra and Selene, glowing in the way only an extrovert in social situations can. By way of greeting, she hugged everyone, even Fenton (!!!). She settled at last, hanging off Penumbra’s shoulder with Selene’s arm around her and Launchpad’s jacket around her shoulders (how she had acquired that, Gyro had no idea).

Unfortunately for Gyro, from her new position, she had a perfect view of him, stuck with only a single sparse group between them. Her eyes strayed to lock onto him and he froze, panic creeping in a mile a minute.For a moment neither moved, staring at each other.

She hadn’t texted him since August, true to her word, albeit how much it hurt for both of them. She had come to the lab a couple times, to pick up Fenton and/or Manny for coffee or to pick up or drop off Huey, Webby, or Boyd. But Gyro had always hid like the coward he was, terrified to face his best friend. The last time they’d talked was the day before Della took off in the Spear of Selene, ten years and eight months ago.

At last, after four months, and nine months of radio silence from his end, here she was, almost close enough to touch.

Then Gyro’s fight-or-flight instinct kicked in and he turned tail and ran, panic clouding his vision and his judgement. He shoved one of the Sabrewing husbands roughly aside (Scrooge would undoubtedly make him apologize for that later) in his frantic quest to escape all the raw emotions, of hurt and guilt and self-hatred, that sprung up all of a sudden.

His eyes locked on a door and he wrenched it open before slamming it shut. He leaned hard against the door, hands clenched around the handle, breathing hard.

Only once the panic began creeping away and his breathing slowed did Gyro finally process his surroundings. He was in a small broom closet, filled to the brim with glittery party supplies Mrs. Beakley had probably denied Webby. (She would probably find a way to sneak them into the party sometime later.)

And perched precariously on top of a box labeled “glitter fireworks” was a woman Gyro had met once, in the Old West, two hundred years ago.

Goldie O’Gilt sized him up, panicked and ruffled, and apparently decided he was no threat. She slid gracefully down from the boxes. “What brings you here, to the closet of forgotten and abandoned party supplies? Girl troubles?”

Gyro wanted to laugh, because technically, she was right. “I’m gay,” he replied, giving her his best deadpan stare. It was lacking.

She assessed him, trying hard not to smile, before bursting out laughing. Gyro barely resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. “People problems, whatever. Please. You can’t fool me, hun.”

Gyro crossed his arms testily. “Why are you here? Away with you.”

Goldie grinned smugly, pretending to examine her nails. “Oh, nothing special. Just some extra fun for Scroogey later. May or may not involve glitter fireworks. You?”

Gyro snorted, without any real humor behind it, and rolled his eyes. “Great. Well, I have better things to do than watch you drive Mr. McDuck up the wall. See ya.”

“This is about Scroogey’s rediscovered niece, isn’t it?” Goldie called after him, as if as an afterthought.

Gyro froze, his fingers curled around the doorknob. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t, really,” Goldie hummed, faking disinterest. “But spare an old woman some juicy gossip, would ya? ‘Sides, I’m a professional conwoman. I see all the angles, and yours is in plain sight.”

Gyro scowled and shifted so he could see Goldie’s face again. She was smirking, small but triumphant, which did nothing to quell Gyro’s steadily growing mix between annoyance and panic. “And I suppose this has nothing to do with ‘Aunt Goldie,’ would it?”

Goldie shrugged nonchalantly, but the smile on her beak shifted into a small pout of annoyance. “I’ll do you a favor and be honest with you. Cherish this moment; it won’t happen again.”

She sighed and leaned more heavily against the precariously stacked boxes. “I may have missed Della and her adventurous, rambunctious spirit over the years,” she confessed, suddenly looking a good deal more like the age-old tired adventurer she was. “It hurts to see that spirit quenched, especially when I just got her back. She hasn’t even frustratingly tagged along to one of Scroogey and I’s not-so-solo adventures! And… I care about her. She’s almost my niece.”

Gyro frowned, stunned at Goldie’s clarity. “...Oh.”

Goldie straightened up and whipped out a shiny knife from the folds of her dress. “But tell anyone, especially Della or Scrooge, and they’ll never know what happened to ya,” she warned, wagging the knife in the direction of Gyro’s face.

He pressed himself against the door while maintaining his scowl, despite the fact that it was too far away to hurt him. He knew what she could do if she put her mind to it. “I won’t.”

Goldie slipped the knife back into the folds of her dress, where it seemed to magically disappear from her hand. “Good. Now go get my niece’s spirit back,” she instructed strictly, shoving Gyro not-so-subtly towards the door.

He wrenched it open and slipped surreptitiously outside, glancing around the party. The crowds seemed to have thinned a little.

Gyro spotted Della easily. She, Donald, and Mrs. Beakley were gently corralling the gaggle of children upstairs - it was quite late, after all. Gyro started to step towards her, then hesitated.

He chickened out and sprinted unsteadily outside instead, taking in big mouthfuls of the refreshingly cold December air.

The chill set in after a few moments and he wrapped his arms around himself, shivering, and despairingly started the long trek away from the mansion.

His phone was buzzing with worried texts from his friends (and Della, no doubt), but Gyro set his jaw and walked on, stubbornly ignoring their annoyingly righteous concern. No use telling everyone he lost his nerve again, just like every time Della texted.

Gyro gritted his teeth and pulled the collar of his jacket over the lower half of his face as protection against the biting winds. The physical pain lessened, but the icy feeling in his gut did not. He balled his hands into fists, as if to physically punch his overwhelming guilt and regret away.

I’m a bad friend.

Early April was always a little tough for Gyro, with the anniversary of the destruction he inadvertently sowed in Tokyolk. It got better with time, but the early years were always a little rough.

(And after that he always had another grief-filled and regretful anniversary to observe in April, anyway.)

He was pushing through it, though, by throwing himself into his work. This year was especially easy. The Spear of Selene was almost done, and would probably be finished just before the eggs’ hatching.

The last time he talked to Della was when he was taking a quick, rare break the day before what would be the second-worst day of Gyro’s life. (Tokyolk took first, if only narrowly.) He had gone off on a quest in search of coffee - he was at the launch lot, and he’d unfortunately been banned from the closest coffee shop. (It was their fault anyway - what kind of coffee shop didn’t want an automatic coffee bean stocker? Even if it tried to stock customers when there were no beans left? Really, they shouldn’t have run out of beans. And his price of free coffee for life was so reasonable and small, really, when he usually frequented the one closer to the lab. Their loss.)

“Gyro!” Della sprinted up to him, face flushed from running in the chilly winds and early spring air. She held out a coffee from the aforementioned shop to him with a grin, prompting his frustrated rant, but Della just let him prattle on with a goofy grin gracing her face.

“What’s going on?” Gyro finally demanded, after watching Della beam ardently at his violent threats and calls for justice and revenge towards the coffee shop. “Your smile is… sillier than usual. Which is saying something.”

Della waved him off, his insult breezing past her. “It’s a surprise. You’ll see!!”

Gyro raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Is it a good surprise?”

Della beamed triumphantly back at him. “Definitely.”

Gyro frowned dubiously, but he knew Della well. For all her recklessness, when she was this sure about something, her judgement was usually worth listening to.

(Later, he’d wish he hadn’t listened to her, and trusted his own gut, for once.)

He shrugged. “I highly doubt it’s as good as you think it is,” he replied haughtily, prompting carefree laughter from Della.

“It definitely is. Just you wait.” She reached out with her free hand and booped him on the beak, causing him to reel back, away from her. “I can make an educated guess that you’ll love it.”

Gyro rolled his eyes at her rudimentary science terminology, causing her to giggle. “If it’s another movie night with Fethry, I’ll pass.”

“Better than that,” Della promised, her smug grin turning downright devious. It didn’t faze Gyro in the slightest.

He shrugged carelessly. “With you, that could either mean better or worse. Otherwise known as pure, unadulterated torture for me.”

Della laughed, but her smile softened into something more vulnerable and emotional, no longer masked by a carefree and reckless demeanor. “I’m telling you, Gyro. You’ll love it. Come on, when have I ever been wrong?’’

Gyro barked a laugh. “Do you really want me to answer that? Because I have a full comprehensive list at the top of my head, and that only covers the basics.”

“Hating black licorice doesn’t count,” Della protested. “It tastes worse than every iteration of Hell, and I’ve been to every iteration of Hell!”

Gyro raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Did you taste every iteration of Hell?”

Della rolled her eyes playfully. “Whatever. Just trust me on this one, will you?” she asked, hitting him with that almost vulnerable expression again.

Gyro huffed. “Fine.” He stuck a finger pompously in the air. “But I reserve the right to pass judgement when I see it.”

Della sighed without any real weight behind it. “Fine, whatever you want. But trust me, you’ll be blown away by the amazingness of this surprise!!!”

“We’ll see about that,” Gyro replied, smirking. “Now, away with you!! I have a highly important project to finish - which is unanimously more important than whatever surprise you have cooked up - and I simply cannot afford any distractions!!”

Della snorted knowingly. “Whatever. See you tomorrow at my amazing surprise! And you’re welcome for the coffee, Mr. Banned-From-Coffee-Shops!!”

Gyro shook his head fondly and made his way down the hill back to the lot. The Spear of Selene loomed in front of him, shining in the weak midday sun. It seemed frozen, waiting, on edge.

“Soon,” Gyro promised to no one in particular. He climbed inside to make some last-minute tweaks to the nuanced controls. “You’ll be in the air by May at the latest,” he promised, patting the cold metal of the rocketship. “Just let me make sure this is perfect. So nothing could ever go wrong.”

Jan 3, 2020 I 5:47 am

Donald Duck: hey asshole

Donald Duck: fyi Della’s really upset

Donald Duck: she really missed her friends ya know?

Donald Duck: Look, Gyro

Donald Duck: I know how this feels

Donald Duck: I know you’re scared

Donald Duck: but dude you face scarier stuff every day when your inventions go evil

Donald Duck: if you can face Lil’ Bulb turning evil not once but twice and still call him your son I think you can face your best friend

Donald Duck: and i know I said some shitty things to you the day we lost her and I’m sorry, that was uncalled for

Donald Duck: I was upset, as were you

Donald Duck: I forgive you if that’s not clear

Donald Duck: i forgave you a long time ago

Donald Duck: Della has too

Donald Duck: she never blamed you

Donald Duck: except maybe for the flavor of Oxy-Chew. But that saved her life, Gyro!

Donald Duck: I know I said your invention killed her, but your invention also saved her, and after she fixed it your invention brought her home

Donald Duck: now she’s back, but you’re losing her again

Gyro stumbling blearily awake, fumbling for his glasses, tired and disoriented, was nothing outside of the norm. He was a secluded, inane inventor with few friends, little social interaction, and no sleep schedule. Not to mention the plethora of projects piled on his desk vying for his attention, and the ever-present mug of coffee in his hand. (At the moment, there was a half-empty one on his desk, placed precariously on top of some blueprints.)

But his latest cup of coffee’s predicament was the least of Gyro’s worries at the moment. Because his phone, charging on his bedside, was blowing up. And that was decidedly not normal.

Gyro, at this point in time, didn’t have social media yet. (Fenton, Louie, and Dewey didn’t exist in his life yet, and so they had not had a chance to plot and execute an intervention.) Sometimes his phone blew up from the group chat with Daisy and Dickie, or the group chat with Della, Daisy, and Dickie, or just Della when she got excited. Or Fethry, once in a while, but Gyro was certain he’d blocked Fethry’s number this time.

Gyro clumsily put on his glasses and pulled himself up into a sitting position, still half-asleep. He scrolled through his notifications, frowning.

Mostly missed calls from Donald and Scrooge, a couple confused text notifications from Gladstone, two missed calls from the Board (that couldn’t be good), and one from Roxanne Featherly, a trainee journalist under Angus Fangus who had taken an unfortunate liking to calling him whenever one of his inventions went haywire.

Panic began to stir in Gyro’s gut.

The weirdest part, though, was that most of the notifications had not come from Della. She was by far his most ardent caller, and she had called, a couple times, but they were all over an hour ago. They were all buried by the rest of his missed calls.

Odd. Very odd.

Gyro tried calling Della first, to soften the blow of whatever was happening. Della wouldn’t sugarcoat the problem. She knew better. But there was something about her contagious enthusiasm and optimism, as well as her face-it-head-on attitude, that made whatever issue was at hand seem less daunting.

But his call went to voicemail.

Gyro shook his head, confused and more than a little scared at this point. Della almost never refused his calls, even if she was on an adventure (as long as she had cell service). It annoyed Donald to no avail, but Gyro was grateful for it - he didn’t reach out for social interaction with no reason.

But now? It only scared Gyro.

He frowned, contemplating, and called Donald next. Scrooge was more likely to call unprompted than Donald, and he didn’t want to deal with the Buzzards or Featherly yet, so Donald it was.

He picked up on the third ring.“Oh, so now he picks up!! When he can’t be of any help!! What’s the big idea, Doctor?!”

Gyro scowled, annoyance beginning to mix with the terror in his gut. “For your information, I just woke up. Now, what is going on?! Della won’t answer my calls and I have an ungodly amount of notifications at three AM. Seriously, people.”

“You want to know what is going on?!” Donald screamed, his voice and temper steadily rising. Gyro flinched at the volume, but kept the phone pressed close to his ear out of half morbid curiosity and half unwanted worry. “I’ll tell you what’s going on!!! Scrooge just killed Della!! And he used your stupid, untrustworthy invention to do it!!!”

Gyro nearly dropped the phone.“...Killed?” he nearly whispered. “How? The Spear of Selene isn’t ready yet and-”

“She took it!!” Donald screeched. “She took that good-for-nothing rocket and flew straight into a cosmic storm!”

“She wasn’t supposed to!” Gyro spluttered, numb. “She wasn’t even supposed to know about it yet!”

“Well, she did!” Donald spat darkly. “And now she’s gone. She left her boys orphaned. What were you thinking, making her that rocket?!”

“It was Mr. McDuck’s idea,” Gyro whispered numbly, automatically. “He- I- We never thought-”

“Scrooge,” Donald growled, and if Gyro knew him well enough he was dragging a frustrated hand down his face. “Of course. He’s too reckless and careless. He killed my sister.”

Gyro rubbed at his eyes under his glasses, unable to think of a coherent response. “I- I don’t think-”

“That’s right, you don’t think,” Donald snarled. “None of you do. And now my sister is dead, thanks to Scrooge. And you. Lose my number, Gyro. You won’t see me again.”

Click.

Gyro stared numbly at the floor, his phone still pressed against his ear, as the dial tone played. Finally, he slowly lowered it to his side and dropped it on the bed next to him before taking off his glasses and dropping his head into his hands.

Then, finally, he cried.

Della Duck. Dead. His best friend. Dead.

It was impossible, improbable. Della Duck was a famed adventurer barely two decades old. She breathed life. She had faced perils and terrors far worse than a cosmic storm, sustained injuries far worse, and bounced back.

Dead.

Because of Gyro’s invention. Maybe if he had worked a little harder, been a little more meticulous, he could have saved her.

He had failed again, gambled and lost with precious lives again, caused death and destruction again. It was Tokyolk all over again, and this time, the lost stakes were even more personal.

Gyro grabbed his phone suddenly, shakingly off the bed and pulled up Della’s contact. Her face beamed back at him, so full of life it seemed to burst from the tiny circle on his cracked phone screen.

He called her again, listening to it ring with baited breath even though he already knew the outcome.

“Hey, this is Della Duck, adventurer extraordinaire! I’m probably trekking through the Amazon or fighting a demon monarch in another dimension right now. Catch ya later!”

Gyro hung up before she could finish her last syllable and sobbed.

February 28 I 2:26 pm

Della Duck: fyi I’m picking Huey up today instead of Launchpad since he has a sleepover with his friend Jason today

Della Duck: you know

Della Duck: in case you wanna hide from me again

Della Duck: btw do you care if I snag that magnifying glass that shrinks people in like a month? We’re gonna go to Miniapolis soon

Della Duck: i mean i’m gonna take it anyway but figured you might want a heads up

March 14 I 5:18 pm

Gyro Gearloose: go ahead

Della Duck: GYRO!!!!

Della Duck: oh sorry

Della Duck: look I’m really excited but I also don’t wanna come on too strong

Gyro Gearloose: you’re fine

Della Duck: :D

Gyro Gearloose: it’s my fault I was being a coward

Gyro Gearloose: i couldn’t face my emotions and that was shitty of me

Della Duck: Gyro i took off in a rocket at midnight without telling anyone and left my kids without a mother for a decade

Della Duck: i win for stupid shitty actions here

Gyro Gearloose: it’s not a contest

Gyro Gearloose: we’re both shitty and stupid let’s leave it at that

Della Duck: yeah ur right

Gyro Gearloose: but dels

Gyro Gearloose: I’m sorry

Gyro Gearloose: it’s been almost a year and i fucking ignored you

Gyro Gearloose: i had the chance to get you back and i didn’t take it

Della Duck: hey

Della Duck: it’s okay

Della Duck: i know this is all a lot

Della Duck: i’m here now and that’s what matters

Gyro Gearloose: della i’m so glad

Della Duck: hey Huey is coming to the lab today

Della Duck: what if I come to pick him up and then you and I go out and catch up?

Della Duck: get expensive coffee on Uncle Scrooge’s dime just like old times?

Gyro Gearloose: fuck yeah

Gyro Gearloose: I’ve missed our expensive shitty coffee and gossip

Gyro Gearloose: I have SO much shit to talk about Dr. Akita

Gyro Gearloose: god

Gyro Gearloose: I hate him now

Della Duck: oh man

Della Duck: Huey told me a bit about Tokyolk but I want to hear all about it for you

Della Duck: and Boyd!!! Omg I can’t believe you’re a father

Della Duck: he’s so sweet

Gyro Gearloose: I don’t know if I’d call myself a father he has the Drakes

Della Duck: but you want to be don’t you?

Gyro Gearloose: ...yeah

Gyro Gearloose: but i’d be a shitty parent you know that

Della Duck: actually I don’t think so

Della Duck: i’m a shitty parent and I’m doing fine

Gyro Gearloose: what a surprise

Della Duck: wow thanks for the vote of confidence

Della Duck: but Beakley Donald and Scrooge are helping me

Della Duck: we’ll help you

Della Duck: join the shitty parents club!!

Gyro Gearloose: haha all right

Della Duck: also

Della Duck: i want to hear all about fenton

Gyro Gearloose: then I want to hear all about Penumbra

Gyro Gearloose: you’re not the only one who can play the love interest card

Della Duck: joke’s on you I WANT to talk about penny

Della Duck: anyway i’m leaving now

Della Duck: see you soon!!

Gyro Gearloose: i can’t wait to see you and your ugly 10-year-old clothes

Gyro Gearloose: seriously you’re wearing almost the exact same outfit

Della Duck: uh HELLO you have no right to shit on the way I dress look at yourself

Della Duck: you dress like a very old gay man

Della Duck: i mean that vest?? really?

Gyro Gearloose: at least i’m not old

Della Duck: touché

Della Duck: LP is driving so i’m almost there see you in a sec

Della Duck: and i’ll probably grab that magnifying glass now

Gyro Gearloose: that’s fine

Gyro Gearloose: i missed you

Della Duck: aw you old sap

Della Duck: never thought i’d hear you say anything like that tbh you’ve gone soft

Gyro Gearloose: I realized recently that my greatest mistakes were not as black-and-white as they seemed

Gyro Gearloose: and if Boyd can forgive me for unknowingly letting Akita turn him into a weapon of mass destruction and for me ignoring him for years and belittling him throughout this trip

Gyro Gearloose: and if I can face both brainwashed 2BO and Akita and win with the “power of love” or whatever than maybe I can talk to you

Della Duck: damn

Della Duck: I have SO many questions about Tokyolk

Della Duck: but i can hold onto them for a minute

The lab doors dinged open, but Della was sprinting out of them before they were fully open. The rest of Team Science watched warily as Della rushed towards Gyro, beaming and laughing, joy seeming to spill out of her. They expected him to hide, or push her away. but to their happy surprise, Gyro met her halfway and wrapped her in a hug.

Or, Della nearly crashed into him and squeezed him so tight he couldn’t breathe, prompting some annoyance, but it was crushed under the sheer joy and emotions of seeing his estranged best friend after eleven years.

Gyro laughed shakily, holding back tears, until he realized Della was crying too. She got snot on his work shirt, but he didn’t care.

They held each other for quite a while, until Della finally pulled back, wiped her eyes, and socked Gyro in the shoulder. “Don’t ever leave me hanging like that again, you hear?! I will hunt you down! I’ll give you your space but I’ll hunt you down! I won’t let this happen again!”

Gyro smiled and wiped away his own tears. “Yes, ma’am. Now, coffee?”

Della beamed. “The expensive kind. You got it.”

“It’s about time,” Manny tapped grumpily in the background, with Huey, Fenton, and Lil’ Bulb adding their agreement, but Della and Gyro ignored them as they flounced out of the lab.They had eleven years of friendship and gossip to catch up on, after all.

{it’s not too late, it was

never too late}

woohoo this is a wild ride! i didn’t intend for it to be this long but it just got away from me. Della and Gyro having a friendship, especially before the spear of selene, is one of my favorite headcanons. I think Della would basically grab Gyro and force him to be friends with her and to hang out with her haha.

I have a hard time writing Gyro as mean as he is in canon because I’m a sensitive sweet bean who isn’t creative or socially adept enough to come up with good insults (yet, hopefully). but i’m getting better! i hope this read as somewhat in character. same with Goldie, i’ve been trying to figure out how to write her for two years now sdfghgfds. I think I got Della’s character somewhat down though!

soft Gyro is more of an interpretation (albeit supported by canon) than canon fact but I LOVE it and i’m writing four (counting this) fics based off of it so get ready for that

the title and song lyrics are from People Need a Melody by The Head and the Heart. That song is really special to me because it was my closing song for camp last year (we would sing a song special for each unit each night before bed). I didn’t plan to use this song from the start (the working title was “DR. GYRO GEARLOOSE GET OFF UR ASS AND ANSWER UR PHONE -Della”) - I was listening to it one night, nostalgic for camp, while writing this fic and I realized the lyrics fit!

(also I was on a call for colorguard while I was writing this author’s note and my instructor said “I hear a lot of typing” lol)

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #dt17 #gyro gearloose #della duck #ducktales fanfiction #wavey writes #my fanfic #donald duck #fenton crackshell-cabrera

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ducktracy · 4 years

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163. clean pastures (1937)

disclaimer: this is the third entry on the censored 11. while there are more cartoons out there that are just as vile, if not moreso, than the cartoons on this list, this is a good indicator of what we’re about to see. this review contains racist content, imagery, and ideals. i do NOT in anyway endorse any of the depictions here. they are gross and wrong. however, it would be just as wrong to gloss over them like nothing even happened in the first place. these cartoons need addressing. i hate reviewing these just as much as you hate seeing them, but these cartoons need awareness. PLEASE let me know if i make any mistakes or say something wrong or hurtful. it is NEVER my intention to do so, and i want my mistakes to be known so i can correct them and own up to them accordingly. thank you for your cooperation and understanding.

release date: may 22nd, 1937

series: merrie melodies

director: friz freleng

starring: the four blackbirds (vocal groups), danny webb (various), mel blanc (satan)

not a fun time in looney tunes history--the cartoon released right after this one, uncle tom’s bungalow, is another censored 11, so we have 2 back to back. nevertheless: phil monroe receives his first animation credit (he would have been only 20 at the time), one of my favorite animators. he traveled around quite a lot, working for friz, bob clampett, frank tashlin, chuck jones, and so on, even directing his own cartoon the iceman ducketh alongside maurice noble. the title is a parody of the 1936 film green pastures, and footage from this cartoon would be traced over in yet another censored 11 entry, bob clampett’s tin pan alley cats in 1943. many elements borrowed from friz’s 1934 goin’ to heaven on a mule, clean pastures chronicles the struggling economy of pair-o-dice, and what can be done to ensure hades inc. doesn’t prevail.

to give credit where credit is due, the opening montage is hardly anything less than impressive. harlem is bustling with night life, as displayed by the blinking neon lights of various clubs, ballrooms, restaurants, etc. the animation of a line of dancers is absolutely to be commended: very complex, very high energy, very fun with a lot of energy. stereotypes are, unfortunately, perpetuated as we see the hand of a man shooting craps and snapping in frustration as he misses his shot. another shot limited to just hands, this time preparing cocktails. the use of just hands, no faces or anything else identifiable, is certainly clever directing on friz’s part, adding an air of mystery and excitement. more dancing from a happy (and stereotyped) couple as we get a variety of overlays--the women dancing at the beginning, the couple dancing, and the word HARLEM in big bold letters for all to see.

more very clever animation as the HARLEM spins away, revealing the surface it’s on to be a globe: the earth. the earth gets smaller and smaller as we zoom out into space, complete with details such as shooting stars and other planets. the opening is wonderfully executed in approach and is undeniably very well thought out, though the stereotypes and content itself obviously cannot go unnoticed.

segue into a musical number provided by the four blackbirds, an original titled “half of me (wants to be good)”. the vocals are too wonderful and lovely to belong to such a nasty cartoon. i digress--a horizontal pan takes us further into space, where we spot a trail of empty milk glasses. a wonderful take on the milky way that only took me two watch-throughs to get. above the milky way are the golden gates themselves: pair-o-dice. pair-o-dice was referenced in the moral monstrosity that is goin’ to heaven on a mule, another friz cartoon from 1934.

hone in on a forlorn, elderly angel, saint peter himself, reading the newspaper: pair-o-dice preferred hits new low as hades inc. soars. sure enough, a glum glance at the stocks assert the newspaper’s credibility: the line representing stocks on the board literally goes out of bounds and onto the floor. saint peter checks his ticker tape: results are bleak. the underscoring song comes to an end as he decides to make a call.

and, of course, we are greeted with yet another insulting stepin fetchit caricature playing a trumpet. he’s more concerned about the foul notes he occasionally blats from his trumpet instead of answering the off-screen phone. saint peter on the other end loses patience, angrily pressing the buzzer in conjunction with the underscore. there IS some clever animation as the fetchit angel’s wings pick up the phone and tap him on the head. he answers and gives the affirmative (the whole time speaking in a cruelly stereotypical dialect), a sudden burst of energy prompting him to run to whatever task he needs to tend to.

friz certainly seemed to enjoy the lingering suspension brought on by this cartoon, with the introduction of the segmented hands gambling and pouring drinks and now the confidential phone call prompting the fetchit caricature to plummet down to earth off of a diving board. the animation is very fun, loose, and weightless, all things considered. while the fetchit angel plummets down towards the earth, saint peter places a pin on the globe in his office, right on the spot marking harlem.

more overlays of the bustling harlem nightlife we saw at the beginning, dissolving to focus on the fetchit angel peddling in the streets, trying to get more people to come to pair-o-dice, indicated by the sign on the platform he’s standing on: COME TO PAIR-O-DICE — BE CONTENT. to boot, there’s another sign à la uncle sam with the elderly angel pointing at the audience. “PAIR-O-DICE NEEDS YOU!”, as well as listing a number of commodities promised at the venue. most insulting on the list is the promise of watermelon. very tasteless, offensive, and deplorable. while the angel struggles to properly advertise, we’re met with an interlude of a random passerby tap-dancing. the synchronization between animation and sound at least provides some benefit.

another one of the passerby’s is mister al jolson himself (the blackface caricature of him, anyway. remember, jolson WAS white), singing “i love to singa” while he strolls down the street. as he mentions about wanting to sing about “a sonny boy”, a little ventriloquist puppet randomly plops down from the sky, right on jolson’s knee, the puppet greeting him “hello, stranger!” “sonny boy” was a popular al jolson song, whereas the “hello, stranger!” was taken from jack benny’s radio show. the same catchphrase and i love to singa song were both used in, of course, tex avery’s i love to singa just a year before.

as jolson wraps up his routine, he strolls into a nightclub (named the kotton klub :wince:), much to the fetchit angel’s chagrin: “you can’t go in there! i’m supposed to keep you out of those places!”

back to pair-o-dice, where saint peter and a variety of celebrity caricatures watch from above: fats waller, jimmie lunceford, cab calloway, and louie armstrong. cab calloway would be caricatured in a number of looney tunes cartoons, perhaps most memorably in porky at the crocadero, and fats waller would be rechristened as “cats waller” in tin pan alley cats, which traces over animation from this cartoon. as always, the caricatures are grotesque and one dimensional. there are so many other fascinating aspects to caricature, like fats waller’s eyes, and yet it’s always the lips that get the most exaggeration.

what engages next is a wonderfully catchy musical number—as deplorable as this cartoon is, the music score is wonderful and doesn’t deserve to be in such a hateful cartoon. the celebrities all chastise saint peter for his poor business practices, and how rhythm in your soul, rhythm in your feet, etc. is the way to properly recruit more people. the patter song, the snappy, lilting tempo, the energy, it’s all wonderful and is certainly one of the better musical numbers we’ve heard in merrie melodies thus far. it’s a shame it has to be dampened by such grotesque imagery. the animation is rather nice though, all things considered.

the angels all go down to harlem where they play the big jazz number of the cartoon, “swing for sale” (this is footage from the cartoon itself, so be warned), on the platform the fetchit angel had just been peddling on, with cab calloway providing the primary vocals. calloway’s closeups and animation in general is very smooth, flowing, and fun, and the call and response aspect of the entire song between calloway and the angels is a lovely touch. the backup angels have their own soft interlude, gathering around a microphone, making the mouth trumpet noises present since the harman-ising days.

fats waller provides a double piano solo, reused from goin’ to heaven on a mule where his angel wings play on the piano behind him. the close-up of waller after another scat solo from cab calloway would be recycled in tin pan alley cats.

after waller, calloway points to louie armstrong, who sings a few lines of the song and launches into a trombone solo. once again, the animation is very nice, thinking in technical terms. whoever does the celebrity impressions are quite good at them. a nice little detail is louie’s face turning purple and his eyes bulging as he pushes to get the notes out—i can only imagine the extremes this would be pushed to if the cartoon were made 5 years later.

the song ends, allowing a transition to pair-o-dice, where the golden gates open to let the angels back in. a lovely up-shot of the gates, as well as the constantly moving background as the angels, still performing, traipse along the starry trail and prepare to enter. they’re not alone—a whole line of new recruits follow, wagging their fingers and dancing. the animation of the lead couple was reused from sunday go to meetin’ time, another deplorable freleng piece from 1936.

now, pair-o-dice is bustling. lovely choice on friz’s part to be looking inside pair-o-dice from outside the gates, the golden gates partially obstructing the view of the busy streets. angels line up to get their halos, distributed from a machine. saint peter contentedly places a NO VACANCIES sign on one of the doors, beaming with pride.

suddenly, a knock. he opens the little door window at the top to peer at his visitor. mel blanc’s gravelly voice grunts “may i come in?” saint peter disregards his own sign. “sure. there’s always room for one more!”

with that, satan himself marches inside, prim and proper, hands clasped together, providing a knowing side-eye to the audience as we iris out.

this cartoon is much livelier than the previous censored 11 entries, and its musical score is undeniably fantastic. with that said, this is a terrible, offensive, grotesque cartoon that parades a number of stereotypes and caricatures. it’s not in my place as a white person to decide what is racist and what isn’t, but this is a slight step above from the previous entry, sunday go to meetin’ time, which was just plain cruel. this cartoon is slightly more light-hearted, if that’s at all possible, but still lacks any sense or compassion.

there are a few things that do deserve praise. the animation, again, in technicality terms, is very nice. lots of closeups, lots of flowing animation, lots of intricate hand movements. cab calloway’s animation during the big jazz number and fats waller’s animation playing the piano with his hands and wings are both to be commended. the music score is wonderful, fun, and lively, much too good for the cartoon it’s in. the layouts are also stellar, especially the scenes in pair-o-dice. but still, there’s no way in good conscience that i can recommend this cartoon. you’ll be fine without watching it. it’s certainly polished, but it still remains inexcusable.

yet, like always, if you want to watch this for educational or historical purposes, here’s the link. obviously view this with discretion.

#lt #clean pastures #looney tunes #reviews #freleng #long post #racism tw #blackface tw

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jthiskey · 3 years

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J.T. Hiskey And Lil B Raise Significant Money For BLM

jt hiskey

Q: Please introduce yourself to the readers and how you first got into this field of work –and who were some of your influences growing up?

j.t. hiskey

I’m Louie. I’ve always been into music. I was influenced by Twisted Sister, Guns n Roses, then Metallica, Black Sabbath, and Nirvana, then punk bands like The Ramones, Nofx, and The Riverdales, then got into Ritchie Blackmore and Peter Green.

jthiskey

I’m Jose. My parents introduced me to different musical styles from their vast LP record collection and from the radio when I was growing up. From The Beatles to Styx to Lionel Richie and Cindy Laupner. Then as I got older I gravitated to Sound Garden, Pearl Jam, Veruca Salt, Blink 182, Fuel, Oasis, Sum 41, Creed.

Q: What kind of training have you had, if any?

Louie: I took a guitar class in high school, one in college, and had 1 month of singing lessons.

Jose: I had music lessons with the Accordion, the Guitar but didn’t keep up with them. Q: What has been your favorite project to work on so far?

Jose: Equine abduction…

Louie: The Manhattan Project. just kidding. Q: What sports do you enjoy watching?

Louie: hockey, hockey, and hockey.

Jose: Basketball Q: What is it that you are hoping to accomplish?

Jose: We want to share our music with the world in the hope that they enjoy it. We hope that it might touch someone in a profound way or encourage them to keep on going despite the challenges they may face.

Louie: I’m hoping to accomplish having music being my life and having people hearing my/our music. Q: What has been one of the biggest highlights/achievements of your career so far?

Louie: Being played on the radio. Jose: And we really loved having someone doing a cover of one of our songs. To see it for yourself someone really digging your song was just amazing to see. Q: If you had a chance to work alongside anybody who would that be?

Louie: Anybody famous, haha

Jose: Really anybody who is serious about doing something special, would be an honor Q: What is your creative process like?

Jose: There’s usually something that affects my emotional state or story I want to express. I’ll write it down or text it to myself. As I work on the lyrics or a chorus or group of words that sounds great, I’ll then bounce it across Louie. He has the mind to really pick things apart and find better words that make the song lyrically singable and playable on the guitar. I don’t know chords so I have to reproduce the sound that I have in my head and Louie can pick up very quickly the chord I’m looking for. There have been many times where he will hit a chord by mistake and I’m like Wait, Play that Again! That’s perfect! Sometimes, we work on songs for as little as half an hour or hour and other times up to a month of constant back and forth. We record it on our phones and listen to it, work on it more to really perfect it and practice it for Recording at Sonic Palace Studios.

Louie: My creative process varies. Sometimes I’ll have a vocal melody in my head or a topic I want to write about, and I’ll make music to fit that. Or sometimes I’ll have a guitar riff or melody and work around that. Other times I’ll hear a song or riff, and it’ll “inspire” me (read: ripoff, haha) Q: Are there any funny stories during practice or recording?

Louie: A funny story was you writing what you thought the lyrics for mothers’ smiles were, compared to what they actually were.

Jose: Yeah I remember that I thought I heard the words right but was way off. I also remember there I was struggling to get “The last party of the Summer” down pat and Louie was like, ‘hey you’re getting caught between the lines’. And I looked dead set at him when he suggested to change it up to make it easier for me, and I said, “I don’t wanna change the song just because I can’t sing it.” We cracked up and I listen to that blooper and it cracks me up every time. Q: How do you feel the Internet has impacted the music business?

Jose: The internet has made things easier for indie artists to show their artistic side, whether it’s in music or any other form. You can have an idea, record it digitally and share it with the world almost instantly. I feel the music industry has controlled things to their own detriment and the detriment of artists. Now anyone can make music and be heard around the world, get paid for their music without labels hogging it all.

Louie: I think the internet killed the radio star. That whole file-sharing royalties issue exposed a lot of artists as greedy, “in-it-for-the-money”, and, as image is very important to popular music, it was very damaging to the “rock n roll image”. On the other hand, the internet is fantastic for artists who just want their music to be heard. Q: What would you change in the industry if you could?

Jose: The major problems that artists face when trying to share their music is funding, time, and the resources to really have an impact in reaching listeners. Being independent means it’s all on you to do everything to make your music, get gigs, sell your songs, collaborate with other artists etc. There has got to be a better way for the industry which really won’t change due to their greed. If you removed that element, you would see more artists featured that have great music to share to the world that you wouldn’t otherwise hear in today’s music paradigm. It would be great if artists that were really successful, support other artists with a fund that they could use to make their music. I would support that.

The major hurdle for indie artists are just getting people to listen to your stuff. Radio is still king and even with all of the online platforms it’s hard to get people to listen to your stuff. There is just so many other bands out there with great music that I’m still discovering until this day. The industry pushes those out for whom and only whom THEY want to elevate, really those that can make them the most money.

Louie: If I could change the music industry, I’d slow it down. Not tempo-wise, but the music industry runs its artists into the ground. The constant touring, and deadlines, stuff like “you need to have this album released by this date” kinda suppresses creativity. Let them have a break. Give them time to write good songs. Q: What is the best advice you’ve been given?

That you can do things yourself. It takes hard work, time and energy but it’s worth it in the end to be able to create things and mold things to how you want them, just not how others would bend it into towards their vision. Don’t waste time or mental energy on those who are flakey or really don’t fully support what you are trying to do. Q: What’s next for you?

Louie and I will continue to record and release singles, collaborate with other artists to record songs and release more singles and maybe a few more albums. It would be easier to concentrate on our music if we could put our jobs and bills on pause. But Life keeps rolling along and we are trying to hold on during its ride. Despite it all we will keep on Rockin!

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johniee · 4 years

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The Sypnosis of The King’s Speech :

The movie that I watched entitled “The King’s Speech” talks about with Prince Albert, Duke of York later King George VI, Prince Albert, Duke of York is also known to his wife and family as "Bertie”, he is the second son of King George V.

The prince tries several unsuccessful treatments and he is in the point where in he want gives up, every time he is stressed because he can’t speak straight or properly he will get his cigarettes and start smoking. The Duchess persuade Prince Albert to see Lionel Logue who is an Austrian speech therapist.

Before the meetup of the prince and the speech therapist, the wife of the prince is the once who go first to look for Lionel Logue. When the Wife arrives at the house of Logue at first Logue mistreated here, but when Logue realize that he is the wife of the said prince he treated it nicely and set an appointment for the prince.

In their first session, Logue requests that they address each other by their Christian names. Logue tells the prince that he will be calling him Bertie from now on. At first, Bertie doesn’t love the idea because he feel like calling other people him by his Christian name is such an insult for a prince like him. Logue give Bertie a book for him to read but because of Bertie condition, he have a hard time in reading and pronouncing the words. Just like the other therapy that Bertie had before we wants to give up because he think that therapy is not for him, but Logue convince Bertie to read again but this time he will read it with music. Bertie was bit confused because how can he hear his voice if he will be listing to the music on the headphone, Logue records Bertie's reading on a gramophone record, but Bertie left and said to Logue his condition "hopeless." Logue gives him the recording as a souvenir.

Later that year, after Bertie's father, King George V, makes his 1934 Christmas address, he explains to his son the importance of broadcasting for the modern monarchy in a perilous international situation. He declares that Bertie's older brother, David, Prince of Wales, will bring ruin to the family and the country when he ascends the throne, and demands that Bertie train himself to fill in, beginning by reading his father's speech into a microphone for practice. After an agonizing attempt to do so made worse by his father's coaching, Bertie plays Logue's recording and hears himself reciting the book fluently. Bertie and his wife was shocked.

Bertie returns to Logue's treatment, where they work together on muscle relaxation and breath control such as speaking the words with the use of melody or tone.Bertie reveals some of the pressures of his childhood, among them his strict father; the repression of his natural left-handedness; a painful treatment with metal splints for his knock-knees; a nanny who favoured his elder brother, going so far as deliberately pinching Bertie at the daily presentations to their parents so that he would cry and his parents would not want to see him; unbelievably, not feeding him adequately “It took my parents three years to notice," says Bertie ;and the death in 1919 of his little brother, Prince John. As the treatment progresses, Lionel and Bertie become friends and confidants.

On 20 January 1936, King George V dies, and David, Prince of Wales ascends the throne as King Edward VIII. However, David wants to marry Wallis Simpson, a woman who divorcée and socialite two times, which he is not allowed as the head of Church.

At a party in Balmoral Castle, Bertie points out that David cannot marry Wallis. But instead of listing to his brother Bertie, David says some hurtful words to his brother.

At Bertie next treatment session with Logue, they have a an arguments about David, Prince of Wales. After having an arguments they both separates ways.

King Edward VIII want to marry that girl, he decided Bertie becomes King George VI, replacing in his Throne. Bertie Feeling overwhelmed by his accession, the new king realises that he needs Logue's help, and he and the queen visit the Logues' residence to apologise. Lionel's wife is shocked and amaze to meet the royals in their home. When the king insists that Logue be seated in the king's box during his May 1937 coronation in Westminster Abbey, Archbishop of Canterbury Dr. Cosmo Lang questions Logue's qualifications and conceived the king that he is not valid and qualified because that box is just for his family. After that, the king confront Logue because he is not a doctor or a person who is qualified to train him in his

difficulty in speaking. Logue explains that he never claimed to be a doctor and had only begun practicing speech therapy by informal treatment and he also based his treatment in by his experience. When the king still isn't convinced of his own strengths, Logue sits in St. Edward's Chair dismissing the Stone of Scone as a trifle, whereupon the king remonstrates with Logue for his disrespect. The king then realises that he is as capable as those before him.

In September 1939, shortly after the United Kingdom's declaration of war with Germany, George VI summons Logue to Buckingham Palace to prepare for his radio address to the country. Before the radio broadcasting they practice in reading his speech but because of his fear to fail, he started shaking ans want to give up, but every time he experience difficulty speaking we will remember all the things that Louie taught him, As the king and Logue move through the palace to a tiny studio, Winston Churchill reveals to the king that he, too, had once had a speech impediment but found a way to use it to his advantage. The king delivers his speech as if to Logue alone, who coaches him through every moment by using melody in every speech. Afterwards, the king steps onto the balcony of the palace with his family, where thousands cheer and applaud him.

A final title card explains that during the many speeches King George VI gave during World War II (1939-1945), Logue was always present. Logue and the king remained friends, and "King George VI made Lionel Logue a Commander of the Royal Victorian Order in 1944. This high honour from a grateful King made Lionel part of the only order of chivalry that specifically rewards acts of personal service to the Monarch."

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iiasha-archived · 4 years

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Rules: you can only repeat one artist and only one time, so we can all kind of spread new 🎶 to the people we tag. Try to listen to at least one of the songs people rec here.

tagged by @rosevlolets and with good timing because we’re in the music mood TONIGHT ❤️❤️❤️ under read more because i blabbed too much

1) one song you 💛 the first time you listened to and never got tired of?

listen i honestly do get tired of songs fairly quickly but i never have and never will get tired of Your Face by Louie and Lee Hyun Woo it probably is one of my favorite songs of all time no joke

2) one song you 😭 every time you listen or makes you emotional?

bell’s palsy by suggi. i don’t think a song has ever made me emotional to this extent; both the lyrics and melody are so heartbreaking and this is probably the only song (besides maybe the one in 11) to actually make me physically tear up just by the song alone

3) one song that always makes you happy/😁?

hmmmm i’m not sure. i’ll pick VERY NICE! by Seventeen :)

4) one song that you would dedicate to your best friend and/or your family?

this one is specifically for my dad. Rice Field by Jay Chou contains a lot of nostalgic memories for both of us, it’s his favorite song and it quickly became mine throughout my childhood (the lyrics/message/mv are really profound but don’t actually have to do with anything we just both really love this song djfkalfjkda i always think about my dad when i hear this and not for reasons implicated by the MV i just wanna make that clear lmaooo)

5) one song with a production (the sounds, the beat, the mood) you 😍?

Moment by Su Yunying!!! yes i was one of the many who was captivated by that video floating around tumblr of the two dancers performing an adaption of painted skin (which is a super famous series of chinese films which BY THE WAY i also really love Painted Heart by Jane Zhang which is the main OST for it) but for real i especially fell in love with this because of the instrumental’s (like the fucking DRUMS yo) and su’s super unique singing like i’m obsessed with this song

6) one song with perfect, amazing, outstanding lyrics?

i’ll be honest i don’t really pay attention to lyrics... like ever... so i have no idea (like the artist in 2 is the only one who immediately comes to mind but i already used him so...) i guess i’ll say WOW by 3RACHA bc it’s fucking hilarious and the only other song that comes to mind when i think of lyrics jklfadsjkfas

7) one song that you would recommend to anyone?

can i recommend exo’s entire discography. please.

8) one song you don’t understand why you like so much but you do anyway?

Ghost by Adia Tay, it’s really not the kind of music i normally listen to/music that makes its way into my top faves but i’ve been obsessed with it for a while like a LONG while

9) one song that you think people, in general, wouldn’t like but you do?

hmmmm this is kinda a hard one. the only thing that comes to mind is probably obscure vocaloid songs i used to be really into? i can’t really think of any off the top of my head though

10) one song people normally like and you don’t like or hate?

this is opening up a can of bees but literally anything by blackpink and most of bts’ music post-wings/spring day era but i also question whether people actually like these songs or like the hype of it

11) one song you would call a masterpiece?

i’m gonna say Reset by Ayaka Hirahara from the okami soundtrack but mainly because the okami soundtrack in of itself is an absolute masterpiece. i really do fucking love this track though and it was definitely a contender for songs that make me emotional bc the experience okami gives you is... so much... and having this play at the credits.... like bitch how you gonna make me cry over the entire final boss battle and then throw this emotional shit at me

12) one song you recently (last 30 days max) discovered and really liked it?

going on by Gaho!! idk why i just found it considering i’ve heard other stuff from this album fdakljdfa

13) one song you listen to to get pumped like you wanna tear down the fucking government or something?

ignoring the fact that it was an opening for a vocaloid anime game definitely NO SCARED by ONE OK ROCK

tagging @poeticallyspaghetti @yeomjoo @irenerei @sweetchaos-yk @yadisvt @seungchansol @bbinie @s0ftbb @nigiriboy

#tag game #song recs

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nitr0glycer1ne · 4 years

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Ducktober/Duckvember 9 - Headcanon

Hi! My writing schedule for this is very hectic, but I've been working a lot lately and Death Stranding is out, so both of these have been keeping me busy... sorry!! I'll do my best to catch up on duck fics! I did a combo with this one since it features 3 headcanons of mine :) More on them in the notes at the end, so I don't spoil the story! Also first time writing Panchito and José so I’m stocked!! Enjoy!

It was supposed to be a calm Saturday in the McDuck Mansion.

Mrs Beakley was cleaning the hallways, Huey was absorbed in trying to earn his calligraphy Junior Woodchuck badge, Dewey was filming yet another episode of Dewey Dew-night in the triplets' room (even though it was the middle of the afternoon, since his filming sessions had been rescheduled courtesy of Donald and Della’s joint efforts), Louie was teaching Webby the ropes of advanced kart drifting techniques in his favorite racing game, Della was busy doing some maintenance work on the Cloud Slayer, and Launchpad was at an amusement park with Drake and his friend's adopted daughter Gosalyn. And since everyone was busy doing rather calm activities, Scrooge had taken the opportunity to sit in the library, comfortably seated in his favorite armchair, newspaper on his lap and a cup of warm tea on the small table near him, within hand's reach.

It was supposed to be a calm Saturday – “supposed” being the keyword.

Suddenly, an abominable noise akin to a deafening mix between a dying screech and an explosion vibrated through the whole house, startling all its inhabitants. Right after that first audible assault, a guitar riff resonated in every corridor and every room, its melody (if you could call it that) generously peppered with false notes. And as if it wasn't enough, a stream of somewhat rhythmic banging was added, and soon after what could only be described as the sound that someone recklessly stepping on a piano would make.

“What is that?!” Louie screamed, more annoyed than scared. He had looked forward to spending a normal day for once and was most displeased with the horrid cacophony. “I have no idea!” Webby answered excitedly, dropping her controller. “Let's investigate!”

The girl dashed out of the room, and Louie had no choice but to follow her. He really didn't want to, but the sooner they found the source of the disturbance, the sooner he could get back to his video game. As the ducklings were running in the corridors, trying to find the room the problem was coming from, they came across a very irritated Dewey.

“I was doing an interview!” he explained. “Whoever or whatever is making that noise will have to do some serious apologizing!”

Louie rolled his eyes, and the three kids kept running. They ended up in the entrance hall, the noise getting louder with every step; when they reached the bottom of the stairs, Della, Huey and Mrs. Beakley were already busy trying to locate the source of the noise. Said noise was still barely bearable; Huey in particular was looking particularly distressed, his hands tightly protecting his ears.

“What is going on here?!” Della yelled, her voice hard to hear above the cacophony. “I thought it was you, Dewey!” “What?!” the duckling shouted, offended. “Why would you think that?!” “Shut up!” Louie screamed as he held Huey’s right shoulder and pressed his older brother close to him, to comfort him and do his best to soothe his nerves. “You’re making it worse!”

Dewey was about to answer the youngest triplet but was cut short by his great-uncle joining them in the hall. Curiously, although he should have been the most annoyed by the sudden racket, Scrooge looked tired and resigned rather than angry. That startled even Mrs Beakley, who couldn’t help but ask:

“Mr McDuck, do you have any idea what-” “Yes, I do, Beakley.” he sighed, rolling his eyes and making his way to the manor’s right wing. “And I’ll put an end to it.”

Webby was the first to follow him, followed closely by Dewey and her grandmother. Louie stayed behind with Huey, waiting until his brother’s breathing had slowed down before they joined the rest of the group. They found themselves in the garage, where the noise was so loud it was painful to bear.

Since Launchpad had moved to live with Drake and Gosalyn the week before, the mansion’s garage had been eerily quiet without the constant, faint sound of Darkwing Duck reruns, or more recently, old rock songs. Now, however, the garage was anything but quiet, and the manor’s inhabitants understood why when they opened the door and found themselves face to face with what seemed like a fever dream.

Donald was wearing an old, tattered flannel shirt Della was sure he must have gotten as a birthday present twenty years before, and he was playing on an equally old electric guitar, his fingers running on the instrument with a surprising speed, but with a disastrous result. Donald had also combed his hair to resemble a fringe, falling on his forehead, stopping right before his eyes that were tightly shut closed as he was passionately shouting in what was probably an attempt at singing. Next to him, an antique accordion was propped on a chair, next to a flute and an acoustic guitar.

He wasn’t alone: two other persons were with him, and the four children were surprised to recognize him as Donald’s best friends, the ones they had met back in Brazil.

Panchito still had his sombrero on, but he was wearing tight denim pants and a leather jacket with shining spikes on the shoulders rather than the bright red outfit he had worn when they first met him. He was also singing, and was sitting behind worn drums, playing them with all his might, the sticks banging ferociously against the instrument. José was as into their “musical number” as his friends: he was standing behind a keyboard, hands expertly gliding on the keys, playing somewhat better than Panchito and Donald – which wasn’t saying much. He had gone through a wardrobe change too, wearing a white shirt with more buttons undone than fastened and slick black pants. José was singing his heart out as well, and sometimes his left hand left the keyboard to reach for a tambourine and shake it for a bit.

Huey and Della were in absolute disbelief at the scene, while Louie snorted and quickly reached for his phone, recording the disastrous attempt of a musical performance. Webby was confused, blinking quickly and looking at her grandmother for answers to her silent questions, Mrs Beakley answering only with a tired sigh. Scrooge was about to charge towards the trio, cane in his hand, but Dewey was quicker and louder:

“UNCLE DONALD, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

His scream was so loud that Donald and his friends stopped immediately, drawing sighs of relief and pleasure from everyone else. He opened his eyes, and found himself face to face with a very angry duckling.

“Oh, bom dia, Donald’s family!” José greeted, not fazed in the least by Dewey’s tone or attitude. “It’s been a while!” Panchito added, smiling. “Yeah, yeah, hello. It’s not everyday that I can get prestigious guests on my show, and just when I was about to start interviewing Glomgold, you had to do… whatever that is!” “Glomgold?!” Scrooge almost choked as he heard his rival’s name. “Yeah!” Huey chimed in, having finally calmed down since the source of his discomfort had disappeared. “Do you really have to play so loud?” “And so false?” Louie added, saying out loud what everyone thought.

Donald looked a bit distraught, and Panchito and José looked at each other, confused.

“We weren’t playing out of key!” the rooster countered. “Si, it has been a while since we last practiced, but-” “It was atrocious.” Della provided. “Aw, come on, Dellita!” Panchito brushed her off. He stood up and ran to properly greet her, giving her a tight hug. He hadn’t seen her since she had visited Donald between two flights during his college days, and his duck friend had told him and José all about what had happened to her. “Come here! I’m so happy to see you!” “Sim, Della, you haven’t aged a day!” José smiled after giving her a hug of his own. “Flattery isn’t gonna make me less mad about you!”

Donald couldn’t help but feel a strange sensation in his stomach as he saw his twin sister reuniting with his best friend, a warm feeling tinted with nostalgia that brought a tear to his eye. He blinked it away, and when he opened his eyes, it was to find himself face to face with Scrooge, who was looking particularly crossed.

“Lad, the “no band practice in the manor without my permission” rule still applies.” “Uncle Scr-” “Band practice?!” Webby squealed, running away from Panchito ruffling her hair to Scrooge and Donald’s side. “I didn’t realize! It’s true that the three of you were the Three Caballeros! Since you said that last time, I did some research but didn’t find anything online!” “We were very, ehm, how do you say? Ah, underground!” José provided. “But I could give you a cassette we recorded. I have several back home.” “Aww, you kept them?” Panchito beamed, throwing his arms around his friend. “I’d love to, Mr Carioca!” “Please, call me José, docinha.” “Why… why would you want that?!”

As Webby explained how happy she was to put her hands on a tangible piece of Donald Duck’s history, Panchito and José decided to back their friend up, since said friend was looking a little guilty under Scrooge’s severe glare.

“Scrooge, sorry! We were so happy to celebrate the Three Caballeros’ revival that we might have gotten a bit carried away!” the parrot apologized with a smile. “Yeah!” Panchito added, firmly patting the old duck’s back. “We’ll be more careful in the future, promise!” “What do you mean, in the future?” Mrs Beakley sternly asked, her head already aching at the perspective of having to endure more of this torture. “You didn’t tell them, Donald?!” José gasped.

The duck rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed.

“I… was waiting for the right moment and didn’t have the occasion?” “Told us what, Donald?” Scrooge squinted, sensing something not pleasant in the least was about to happen. “Donald said that since your garage was free now, we had all the space we wanted to practice and work on new songs for our upcoming album and concerts! Los Three Caballeros are officially BACK!” Panchito loudly exclaimed, José smiling in approval and Donald feeling very, very little under his uncle and Mrs Beakley’s intense stares.

A collective groan ensued, save for Webby’s enthusiastic “Yeah!”.

It was my first time writing Panchito and José, I hope I got them right! I took Spanish as a 2nd language (French being my mothertongue, English was my 1st foreign language in school, Russian my 3rd and Latin my 4th. Sadly I've lost almost all of my knowledge in Russian...) and don't speak Portuguese or Brazilian Portuguese so feel free to correct me. More on the 3 headcanons:

1) Sometime after season 2, Launchpad moves out of McDuck manor and goes to live with Drake and Gosalyn, although he still stays close to Scrooge and his family, especially Dewey! It starts as a simple roommates situation, but since I love Drakepad it ends with them in a relationship :)

2) Huey is gifted. It's probably me projecting, but Huey has a lot of traits often found in gifted people: being book smart, having interest in always learning new things and skills, trying to understand everything, being kind and trying to be as helpful as possible, and being easily anxious and prone to anger outbursts. I could go into detail about this haha, in fact I probably will in the form of a fic later in this challenge that will have Huey interacting with someone I also headcanon as gifted c: 2.5) And I can see Louie as being the one to calm him down the most easily when Huey has a spike of anxiety or a panic attack. Louie is good at reading people and he's also quite sensitive, which is why I can see him looking out for his big brother. Dewey just doesn't realize it, I think he has more difficulty reading people and understanding how they feel, especially if they try to hide it.

3) And of course the main focus of this fic, THE THREE CABALLEROS GETTING BACK TOGETHER !!! I really wanna see this in the show, even if it's just in passing. We know that Panchito and José will be in S3, and I really would like to see them and Donald playing music, even if it's just in a flashback or something!!

#the three caballeros #donald duck #panchito pistoles #josé carioca #ducktober #ducktales #webby wanderquack #huey duck #dewey duck #louie duck #della duck #scrooge mcduck #bentina beakley #fanfiction #my fics #my writing #dt17

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zombiesarita · 5 years

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Cracked Ivories and Broken Dreams

Angsty Clouis oneshot

Words: 3014 (Because I don’t know when to quit)

Ship: Clementine X Louis Platonic Clementine X Violet

Genre: ANGST. Angst and platonic fluff.

Warning: Graphic depictions of walker-eating. Heavy grief and mourning.

Description: Another sleepless night due to nightmares, Clementine trudges her way along the school's corridors, always leading to the same room. It'd had been the fifth time that week, and although she hadn't kept count, the other kids at Ericson's could definitely tell whether they wanted to listen to it or not. They'd often overhear as she woke up in fits, screaming his name. They'd also hear the soft clunking of Clem's crutches leading to the music room, the timid chime of the keys being grazed as she tried to hide her whimpers, and the sudden bang of Clementine collapsing onto the piano's keyboard in broken sobs, begging for the same thing, night after night. Hoping that things will change, but they never do. Pleading that somehow, he'll miraculously come back to sing to her again. But he never does.

READ ON A03. Or continue reading below.

"Get across! I'll help Tenn!" His voice thundered in her head, taunting her like he always did.

She nodded, foolishly believing him as she grasped at the bloody hatchet for support on her feet. Her leg was on fire but she limped to the crack of the bridge anyways, throwing the axe before regrettably jumping across the ravine. She screamed in pain as her injured leg hit the bridge's wooden boards.

She screamed even louder when the only boy who could always make her laugh was devoured in front of her. He choked in his own blood as walkers ripped at his throat, tearing flesh from his body as he looked her in the eye, agony carved into him.

____________________________________________

"NOO! LOUIS!" Clementine screamed herself awake once again, hurling herself forward in the bed. Her hair clung wetly to the sides of her face. Beads of sweat and tears fell down as she forced herself to breathe. In and out. She suddenly let go of her blanket, realizing she wrung her hands around the fabric so tightly they went numb. She looked dead ahead, exhausted. She couldn't sleep. She couldn't close her eyes. Because she'd see him again in the darkness. She always sees him.

She rarely slept at all for days, nearly weeks. And when she did, she was always awoken by the sound of Louis gargling, spitting out thick red liquid as he collapsed onto the ground.

She turned to the neighboring bed in tears, empty again. AJ frequently slept over with Tenn since the incident. Since the nightmares began. She would involuntarily wake him. It was slightly disheartening, but she understood. He needed rest.

Little did she know they could still hear her every whimper through the thin, broken walls.

It was her fault, after all. She didn't trust AJ to make the call. She didn't trust AJ to spare him. To take Tenn's life instead.

_____________________________________

"HOW COULD YOU?!" She screamed at the top of her lungs, not caring if she drew walkers into the school because she was seething with rage and misery. "HOW COULD YOU KILL HIM?!"

"Leave him the fuck alone alone Clementine, he didn't do anything!" Violet protested in front of Tenn, cleaver drawn as she protected him. Panicked faces circled around the endeavor, not really knowing what to do. Clem was still recovering from the loss of her leg, sure, but she always managed to surprise with what she was capable of doing.

"Bullshit!" Clem spat, pointing a finger at the panicking 12 year old boy, "Louis would be alive if he didn't try to stop him!"

"It's not his fucking fault!"

"IT'S COMPLETELY HIS FAULT!" She screamed, collapsing on the ground in tears. Her crutches fell with her, knocking dust into the air.

"It's... It's..."

_________________________________

"It's my fa-fault..." Clementine sputtered between sobs, digging her face into her knee as she hugged her leg tightly, "...It's all my-my fault."

How she missed the encapsulating sound of her boyfriend's voice, singing sweetly to her as he keyed an enchanting melody on the mahogany piano. The way his whiskey eyes sparkled at her when she laughed at his silly jokes. How she missed staring at each of his freckles, trailing from his forehead to his cheeks as he gave a dimpled smile with his soft lips.

She gave a shaking sigh, knocking herself out of her own thoughts. She placed her legs down, and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her stump grievously as she pulled her boot over her right foot.

Clutching the dresser for support as she pulled herself up, she looked onto the wooden surface and realized her blue baseball cap was still missing. No longer a part of her. She hasn't really felt the same without it. Though, Clem can admit, she doesn't really know what it's like to feel like 'herself' anymore.

She mentally mocked herself, grasping her crutches and pulling them under her as she started hobbling to the exit. She gave a grim sob, before drawing a large breath and opening the door with trouble.

_____________________________________

"Louie~" Clementine purred, a light sing-song voice that she knew the boy loved all too well. He held her hand, trailing her along somewhere. Where? She didn't know. He had asked her to keep her eyes closed, 'Because it's a surprise," He told her.

"We're almost there, Love," He responded softly, brushing her knuckles with his thumb in assurance. He only called her that sweet, simple name in seclusion, so they must have been alone. Thankfully, as Clementine would have died of embarrassment if the other kids knew how she chirped to him in private.

"I swear, I'm gonna trip," Clem banted, feeling the glass and pebbles being kicked away by her two feet, "And when I do, I'm bringing you down with me."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," He chimed, obviously brandishing a smile from the way he said it. She gleamed as well.

The sound of a door creaking open perked Clementine's ears to attention, "Are we here?" She asked, still pressing closed her eyes.

"What's today's date, Love?" Louis ignored her question and asked his own. He brushed a thumb lightly across her jawline, making her flush.

"Um, I-uh..." She stammered at her partner's touch, squeezing her eyes closed even more. She heard a light chuckle escape his lips at her trouble. "I checked last week, and it was the 19th," She started, struggling to compose her thoughts until the sudden realization hit her. "Oh, Lou-" "What's the date?" He repeated bubbly, much more excited.

"October 26th." She chirped, grinning widely.

"That's what I thought," Louis said happily, hooking Clementine's chin and burning his lips into hers. Clem could feel his lips tugging into a smile and couldn't help doing the same. "You can look now," He affirmed, pulling away much to Clem's dismay. Clementine fluttered her eyes open and gaped in awe at the room they stood in. It was the music room, because what else would she have expected from her Louis? The room glowed in flickering colored lights, candles in mason jars littering every surface, most on his piano. Louis lightly tugged on her hand again and drew her to the center of the room, placing his hands on her waist and spinning her around with a goofy flourish.

"Consider this our second date," He beamed, pulling her closer. He lowered his head, inches away from hers, and softly held her face in his hand.

Louis breathlessly muttered onto her lips, drawing a flush to rise in the girl's cheeks that he couldn't help smiling at, "Happy birthday, Love."

_________________________________________

Clementine crutched her way into the miserable music room, once filled with so many happy memories she desperately clung onto. Blown out and dead candles speckled the room, reminiscent of days gone by. She shuffled to the piano's stool and slowly rested, leaning her crutches against the wooden instrument. She didn't know why she always came here when the nightmares rattled her brain. Some sort of melancholic comfort, one would assume. But she always left feeling even more broken than she would arrive. The girl would sometimes refuse to leave until morning, dark circles and dead eyes as she crutched back to her room, refusing to meet anyone's gaze.

She grasped at a mason jar on top of the piano, and lit it with the match she kept in her pocket. The wick burned smoothly, lapping up the oxygen around it to keep it's flame alive. The small flame gave her barely enough light to perceive her surroundings clearly. The light quickly reflected the carving of a heart- No, a 'potato', Louis would always call it, drawing an aggravated moan from the girl.

God, what she wouldn't do to just be annoyed by him one more time.

"Oh, Louis," Clementine cracked to the night sky, pressure emanating in her throat. "I miss you. So fucking much."

She allowed the silence to envelope her once more, before drawing a sharp breath and letting out a deep sob.

_____________________________________

"Again?" Clementine groaned in faux irritation.

"You don't have to help if you really don't want to," Louis called her bluff, knowing full well she loved helping him, "I just like spending time with my girl."

His last sentence fluttered around her heart, making her blush. His girl.

"You remember which one the A key is, Love?" He asked, smirking as he shot up and led her to the piano's seat.

"No, I don't," She lied, gently sitting down and pretending to be confused.

"It's this one, right here," He knowingly played along as he held her from behind, gently grasping her hand and pointing to a specific key.

"This one?" Clem playfully coyed, shifting her hand to the next key and lightly pressing it.

"No, this one," Louis grinned, trailing his hands to her sides and peppering her exposed neck with kisses. A frail squeak escaped the girl's lips and she chuckled heartily.

"Okay, okay," She laughed, pressing the correct note this time, "You win, Lou."

"You know it," He pridefully remarked as he slowly let go of his girl, walking to the back of the piano to make his repairs. Clem have a sad glare at the loss of his warmth, slightly pouting.

"Press it for me?" He asked kindly, and she happily obliged. The note bounced in their ears, slightly shrill. Still not done tuning, after all.

"Good, now the pedal." She pressed eagerly, tapping the A once more. A little better, but not quite perfection.

"Now-"

"Blow on the strings," The girl said with a smile, lifting herself up and blowing steadily at the piano's wires. Once started as a joke, it quickly became their personal good luck charm. It seemed to be working so far.

"You know, I've been thinking..." Clementine started, her honey golden eyes trailing warmly to his earthy brown.

"Yes, Love?" The boy inquired, meeting her eyes only briefly before returning to the back of the instrument.

"Maybe you could, I don't know," She rambled, regaining his confused gaze, "Teach me piano? Only if you wanted to, of course."

"Clementine!" Louis chimed ecstatically, shooting up and rushing towards her to smother her in a large kiss.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to hear you say that."

____________________________________

"You know, Louis," Clementine managed to croak into the empty room, "I've been practicing for you."

"I haven't been sleeping well... So I've had a lot of spare time."

She could practically hear his potential responses, sitting next to her as he traced intricate shapes onto her back.

Of course, enthusiasm about her wanting to play. An ecstatic exclamation. A silly joke, maybe. Probably. Then concern to hear she hadn't been resting. She would joke about it being something she's used to by now, watching as he would give her warm eyes that would only show genuine compassion and care for her well being.

Wiping her pained, wet cheek with the back of her sleeve, she sighed before placing her right hand onto the board. 'For him,' She thought. It was always for him.

Three consecutive C notes pressed, followed by a G. The noise was shrill and ugly. It hadn't been tuned in quite a while. You need a second person, after all.

"Oh my daarlin'..." She could still hear his voice sing to her, clearly like a toned bell.

Three Es. Then another C note.

"Oh my daarlin'..."

Another C key hit by her thumb. An E. Two Gs. F. E. D. Pressure emanated from her eyes.

"Oh my daaarlin' Clementine..." He would sing, making her smile longer than she ever had in years.

D. E. F. F. E. D sharp. E. C. Tears rolled down her face. A knot formed in her throat she couldn't swallow.

"You are lost, and gone forever..."

C. E. D. G. B. D. C... She stopped. She couldn't play anymore, even if she wanted to.

"Dreadful sorry, Clementine..."

For the fifth night this week, Clementine broke down. She crumbled right onto the cracked ivory keys, her chest wracking violently against herself as she let out timid sobs. She tried her absolute best to muffle her cries, but horribly failed as her throat burned like it was on fire.

Visions replayed in her head of her horrific nightmares. Louis's ragged breaths, only to be met with blood filling his lungs. His violent trembling as he laid there in agony. His dark eyes looking straight at Clementine's in fear, the life slowly draining within them. She was riddled with these nightmares for days on end, gradually losing herself in them. Except they weren't just like her regular nightmares.

It actually happened.

And she let it happen.

She just watched. Watched as Louis held down Tenn for his own safety, completely disregarding his own. She watched as she was unable to do anything to help, her leg slowly bleeding out. She watched as AJ held his finger on the trigger, and pulled back at the last second. All because she didn't trust him.

_________________________________________

"Louis!" Clementine yelled in relief, running to greet her partner as he walked out of the thick vegetation. He welcomed her affection with open arms and breathed deeply in solace at finding Her, AJ, and Tenn relatively okay. He rubbed her back as she buried her face into his chest. "You came to look for us."

"Thought I lost you," The teenage boy grinned, attempting to choke back his words but failing, "I love you too much to lose you."

The girl looked up in surprise, taken aback, "You... You love me?" She stammered, quickly flushing.

He audibly sighed, his cheeks turning a pinkish haze under his dark skin, "I think I do, Clem. I really, truly do."

"I... I love you too," Clem breathed, a small smile tugging on her face that Louis imitated.

"This is amazing," Tenn halted, smiling at the scene.

"This call's for celebration!" Louis gleamed, throwing his hands into the air, "When we get back, we're totally throwing another party!"

"Naturally," Clem fazed, walking hand-in-hand with Louis into what would inevitably be his demise.

___________________________________________

"God," Clementine sputtered, heaving, "I'm so sorry Louis. I'm so sorry." "It's all my fault." Her body shook with every vicious word she threw at herself.

"Clementine?" A rusted, feminine voice echoed through the music room, footsteps stopping short at the door. The sudden intrusion made Clem jump, splitting her sobs in half.

"I'm fine," She darkly croaked, swallowing herself into her own lie, "Leave me alone, Vi."

"I didn't even ask yet," Violet interjected, stepping towards the girl. She was the only person other to walk into the music room since the incident. "And that's a blatant lie."

"What do you want?" Clem asked sourly.

"I want you to know that we care about you, Clementine." Her voice rang out softly, "You've barely spoken to anyone for days. Have you been eating?"

"Yes, I have," She lied. She couldn't remember the last thing that touched her lips, except for someone that never will again.

"Then what did Omar do for dinner tonight?" Violet quizzed. It wasn't her normal snarky or composed attitude. It was of genuine compassion as she slowly stepped towards the piano. She leaned lightly on the lid and felt the vibration's of Clementine's ragged breaths.

"Why are you here?" Clem spat back, leaning up and wiping a face with her sleeve. Violet noticed her question being tossed aside with a sigh.

"Because despite as much as you say, you're not okay, Clem."

The girl scoffed, turning away despite knowing she shouldn't.

"Can I... Sit with you?" Vi asked lightly, gesturing to the bench. Clem returned with an apprehensive nod, scooting over to allow room. As the girl slowly rested, she drew a large sigh, looking into Clem's vacant, wet eyes. She looked terrible, but of course she wouldn't say that.

"I understand how you feel, you know," Violet started, lifting a slender hand and rubbing the girl's shoulder. Clem melted into the touch, despite her mental protest.

"When I thought I lost Minnie... A piece of me died with her," She muttered lowly, looking away, "I pushed everyone away as well."

"Then Louis pulled me back in. He put my pieces back together," A glint of a smile perking on her face, "Now, I think it's about time I return the favor."

Clementine's breath hitched at the mention of his, hiccuping. Violet prepared for what was about to happen, as if she already knew. Sobs wracked Clem's body despite her protest, falling into Violet's warm embrace as she just let her emotions consume her.

"It's okay," Vi consoled, rubbing the girl's shaking back, "Let it out. This'll stay between us."

"It hurts," She croaked, whimpering into her arms, "It hurts so fucking much."

"I know it does," Violet murmured, "It fucking sucks. But you'll get through it. And I'll be here for you."

They sat there, for god knows how long, just listening to the night's silence over Clementine's sobs. Violet stayed with her, petting her hair and murmuring soft encouragements until she couldn't physically cry anymore. She just laid there, resting into her friend's warmth in silence, the occasional hiccup escaping her lips. And that was okay.

"You can sleep with me tonight, if you want." Violet suggested warmly, a comforting grin accompanying her face, "I know you haven't slept well. I could wake you up whenever the dream starts again."

The girl gave a small nod as she lifted her head, wiping her face with her sleeve. "I... I'd really like that. But you don't have to do that for me."

"Clem, I want to," Violet glinted, slowly standing up and grasping at her friend's crutches. She led the girl's crutches to her, helping her rise and collect herself.

"I'm here for you," she muttered warmly, trailing her out of the music room and into the dorms.

For the first night in weeks, The girl wasn't racked with her nightmares.

And for the first time in weeks, Clementine didn't feel alone.

#TWDG #Clouis #Louisentine #TWDG Fanfiction #TWDG Fanfic #Fanfic #TWDG Louis #TWDG Clementine #The Walking Dead Game #TWDG Season 4 #Mourning #DEATH #TWDG Violet #Any tags I've missed? Maybe #My Writing #Oneshot

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wiggly-blue-shite · 5 years

Text

21 one question game!

Rules: Answer all 21 questions and tag people you want to get to know better

Ahhh the lovely @kickitupanotchbug and @debthestoner tagged me. 💙

Nickname: Technically Blue is a nickname even though I’m starting to think of it as my name name since my gender is a mess. I also get called Apple and A A a lot.

Zodiac: I’m a Leo! Yup.

Height: 5”2 Yes I am aware I am smol

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff But a ravenclaw in certain circles. (That doesn’t make sense)

Last thing I googled: “Bird feet name” I forgot what talons were called. DONT JUDGE ME.

Favorite mucisian: I have a few favorite musicians. I’m gonna do non theatre ones. Louie Zong, Dodie Clark, and the Gorillaz (I am aware they are a band)

Song that’s stuck in my head: Right now it’s I’ll Cover You from Rent (for some reason) and the Little Shop Of Horrors Finale (I just got out of rehearsal)

Following: So many

Followers: Maybe?

Do you get asks: hahahahaha ha ha ha Ha..... almost never.

Amount of sleep: just so little.

Lucky number: 7!

Wearing: a the office shirt tucked into some cute olive green pants with some cuteish sneakers.

Dream job: Playwright/Director/Scenic designer/maybe costume designer/acting occasionally (but like mainly the first three)

Instruments: Trombone, Baritone horn, I’d like to think my voice, guitar and uke sometimes.

Languages: English but I’m working on my Spanish

Favorite songs: oh Jesus Christ where do I start? Ticker Tape, Saturn Barz, and Kids with Guns by the Gorillaz. Asymptotic and Hello World Louie Zong. The Moulin Rouge’s version of Roxanne. Rouges Melody by Starkid. Valarie by Amy Winehouse. I’m really in love with the Little Shop Of Horrors soundtrack right now because I’m in a production of it at the moment.

Random facts: l called flamingos, “fluhn-da-muh-ling-glows” at a very young age. I was kind of a dumbass child because fluhndamuhlingglows is harder to say then flamingos.

Aesthetic: ok I have the aesthetic I give off but then the aesthetic I really like. I’ve explained the aesthetic enjoy a couple of times so I’m just gonna do the one I give off.

I like to think of it as the gay chaotic tired older cousin. Just all forms of high waisted pants. A bunch of nerdy ass shirts along with some actually decent looking ones ALWAYS TUCKED IN. Reflective sunglasses, messy hair, slightly smeared eyeliner. Sneakers that were nice once but have been destroyed from over use. Lots of dark and olive greens some browns and greys as well. Consistently listening to music mainly rock. Does that make sense?

I TAG: @declansdumb @halfpasteleventhhour @trash-for-fandoms-and-cats @inevitablekickline @notthe-latte-hottay and I guess anyone who wants to!

#tag game!

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astrodances · 5 years

Link

First Night (Been Like This)

The mostly fluffy conclusion to the “First Night” mini-arc!

Happy birthday week to the boys! And kudos to whoever gets the "magnificently lonely" reference.

No one wanted to go to bed on Della’s first night back on Earth and safe in McDuck Manor. There was the triplets’ insistence of a camp-out in the living room. Donald offered her a place in the houseboat for the night, but when she insisted that she would just sleep in a guest room, he not-so-subtly claimed the room next to hers.

Everyone just wanted to be close to Della. At this point, she just wanted to sleep on a real bed.

After insisting that she would still be there in the morning with a flattered laugh, they relented and shuffled off to bed, but not before sharing a round of hugs for the umpteenth time that day. Scrooge was convinced he’d seen more hugs in the time since Della had returned than he had in his entire life.

This was the thought that followed him as he made his final rounds for the night, stopping by his own room just long enough to retrieve something from his nightstand drawer and slip it into his pocket before ending up in the doorway of his nephews’ shared room. The sight that greeted him made his heart melt.

The boys were all sitting around Della on the bottom bunk, her arms wrapped around Huey and Louie at her sides and Dewey’s arms slung over her shoulders from where he kneeled behind her, his head resting against hers. As they snuggled into her, eyes closed and smiles crinkling their features, she rocked them back and forth. The past eleven years didn’t matter right then; nothing did, except for the shared feelings of love and comfort. And–

And then she was singing.

“Look to the stars, my darling baby boys. Life is strange and vast...”

A spike of nostalgia choked Scrooge, and he caught himself with a hand on the doorframe. It’d been so long since he had heard her lullaby. It was something he had refused to let himself even think about after losing her (even though his dreams had other plans early on), and yet, here she was, singing it with no hint of rust.

“...unafraid of the unknown, because I’ll face it all with you.”

As Della finished the melody, she looked up from her sons to her uncle, locking gazes with him in a tender moment of familiarity, and only then did he realize his eyes were misting over.

After letting the song settle, the only sounds heard were the boys’ sniffles piercing the air. Eventually, Della turned and gave each of them a kiss on the forehead, then saw them off to bed. Determined as ever, she managed to tuck them all in, even Huey on the top bunk, despite the way Earth’s gravity was weighing down on her.

With a hesitant “I love you” from the doorway, as if testing the words for the first time, Della turned off the lights and Scrooge stepped back into the hallway to give her room to close the door. Finally, she faced her uncle.

Scrooge, for his part, was still in awe of her performance. “That...that was beautiful,” he said, his voice low and soft. “Last time I heard that, they were just wee eggs.”

Della offered him a bashful shrug. “I wanted them to hear it in person. I thought about how this moment would go for so long, and...I just want them to think I’m a good mother.”

“Trust me, you don’t need to prove yourself. They already think the world of ye.” Scrooge pulled her into a sideways hug and planted a kiss on the side of her head. He kept his arm around her, partly to support her and partly for closeness, as he asked, “Want to go talk outside?”

“Sure.”

The two ducks made their way through the second story of the manor and ended up on the balcony overlooking the backyard.

Save for the glow peeking around the corner from the pool area, only moonlight illuminated their view. A slight wind rattled the trees below, and intermittent cumulus clouds littered an otherwise crystal-clear sky. Scrooge considered their timing fortunate; it’d been raining on and off all week.

Della immediately looked up out of habit as she reached the edge of the balcony, turning every which way until her eyes finally found the moon behind her. Sunlight filled half of it as it hung over the mansion, and she leaned back on her elbows against the stone railing to watch it, Scrooge copying her position as he joined her. It comforted a small part of him to see the familiar motion from her once again.

They simply stayed there for a while, silently watching the cosmos parade ever onward above. It was something they had done plenty of times together, but now it felt different. Della had just come from there. His stars had been her home for the past decade, and now she was just...back. Back on a planet that probably felt like it didn’t belong to her anymore.

A gentle sigh escaped Della, and Scrooge found himself wondering, “What was it like?”

“On the moon?”

He nodded, and she gave a noncommittal shrug as she thought aloud. “It’s...different.”

This surprised him. Of course he knew it was different, but he would’ve expected some form of excitement as an answer when it came to actually living on the moon, circumstances aside, especially from the duck who wanted to give her boys the stars. “How so?” he asked.

“Well, it’s...” Della started, then trailed off, her eyebrow quirking up as she looked around in thought, before looking up at the moon again. “Alright, you see the moon there?”

“How could I not?” Scrooge muttered in a teasing tone, earning an eye roll and a smirk from his niece.

“Be serious,” she chided, no bite to her voice. She leaned in towards him, pointing as she instructed, “Try to stay still, and watch the moon move in relation to the roof for a minute.”

He did as told, and together, they watched as the moon dipped surprisingly fast behind a corner of the chimney before emerging again, making a beeline for the horizon of the rooftop.

“Quick one, she is, isn’t she?” Scrooge noted, swiveling his head to Della when she didn’t answer. She sat there, still staring and completely enthralled.

“It’s been so long since I’ve actually seen it like that...” she whispered to herself, seemingly forgetting she wasn’t alone. “Oh god, I was just there...”

The next few seconds went by in slow-motion for Scrooge. He could see the exact moment when the reality of everything that had happened to herself in the past eleven years struck Della. It was as if life had pinched her now that she was back, letting her know that, indeed, she really had been stuck on the moon for so long. That she’d missed so much.

The instant her gaze dropped from the sky, her eyes welling with unstoppable tears, Scrooge had his arms around her. She clutched the lapels of his coat, shaking and crying, and he held her in a furiously protective grip, trying to stay strong for her sake.

“Uncle Scrooge...” she sobbed against his shoulder. The sound broke his heart. The last time he heard a cry like that from her had been when she disappeared. He held her tighter, his teeth clenching, as he tried to assure himself that she was really there. That this was just the first step in mending the pain that he had inflicted upon both of their hearts all those years ago.

“I-It’s alright, Della girl. It’s alright. I’ve got ye. You’re safe. You’re home.”

When she let out a particularly pained sob in response, and her breaths turned sharper, he moved a hand up to cradle the back of her head, smoothing her hair with soft strokes.

Scrooge didn’t keep track of how long they stood there, but when Della calmed down, neither of them made any effort to move. When she spoke again, it came out as muffled and weary and just slightly bitter against his frame.

“It‘s lonely, is what it was. Magnificently lonely. I mean, yeah, there was a giant moon bug there to aggravate me over the years–“ He cocked a silent eyebrow in question over her shoulder at that. “–and a...and I mean, it helped to think I was sending you transmissions of myself...even if you didn’t get them...” That made him wince in guilt. “But otherwise? It’s just so...so empty.”

She finally pulled away just enough to look at him. Her eyes were puffy and watery, and a mumbled “sorry” left her beak as she tried to smooth away the rumpled tear stains on his shoulder. Scrooge caught her wrist in a gentle hold.

“Dinna worry about that, lass,” he dismissed, lowering her hand between them.

With a sniff and a short, embarrassed laugh, Della took a half-step back, but still let Scrooge keep a hand on her shoulder. “So, as I was saying...” she began, the tremble of her smile betraying her sudden bravado.

“Della, you don’t have to–“

She leveled him with a look mixed between determination and a plea. “I want to.” When she saw the lingering concern on her uncle’s face, she softened. “Please, just let me. I’m good for now, I promise.”

Scrooge took a deep breath and relented, following suit as Della turned to the sky once again. The clouds seemed to have multiplied, but the very top sliver of the moon was still visible above the roof.

“...So, as you can see, the moon moves very quickly when you’re on Earth,” she explained with a barely-contained laugh when she realized the moon wasn’t going to cooperate with her astronomy lesson anymore.

The two of them took to leaning against the railing again, watching the stars themselves as Della continued, “But it’s different on the moon. The Earth just...doesn’t move. It rotates, and you can see it move through different phases, but otherwise, it’s just always in the same spot in the sky.”

Scrooge hummed in amused interest, glancing out of the corner of his eye to watch for his niece’s feelings on the matter. She seemed to be thinking to herself, trying to find the words to describe her observations.

“It made me impatient, having Earth there as a constant reminder,” she said quietly. “Everything I love and wanted was right there, and I just couldn’t reach it, no matter how hard I tried. But at the same time, that’s what kept me going.”

“Because nothing can stop Della Duck,” Scrooge grinned conspiratorially, taking pride in her tenacity. If there was ever a McDuck trait that he was grateful she got, it was that.

She offered an equally devious smirk in return. “You know it.”

There was a beat as the moment faded, and then Della sighed. “I guess the other major thing is that a day on the moon lasts a whole month. I tried to keep track of Earth time as best as I could, but I didn’t really feel it after a while. Time itself changed for me.” She looked down at the strand of hair she had wrapped around her finger. “I guess everything did.”

Scrooge shrugged. “Not everything.”

The way she glanced up at him curiously reminded him of why he had originally brought her out there, and he rapped his knuckles against the railing. “This old mansion’s still standing, for one.”

“Is that all?”

“No, the Money Bin’s still there, too.” Della cracked up, and he beamed, then realized, “Actually, heh, everybody who lived here before you left is still around now, even Duckworth.” A sudden wave of peace washed over him: with Della back, he still had everyone he loved, everyone he cherished, in his life, with some new faces to boot in Launchpad and Lena.

He carried on, gaining traction. “And, thankfully, the family legacy lives on.”

Before Della could question him, Scrooge reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold coin, one that he had been keeping beside his bed for over a year, flipping it with his thumb in the air towards her. She caught it expertly with one hand and studied it.

“Atlantis,” he nodded towards the coin. “The boys’ first adventure. I gave each of ‘em a coin to mark the occasion, like I did with you and Donnie on your first adventure, and I...I kept one for you. I...” He couldn’t bring himself to say it. That he kept it in her memory. That having the boys appear in his life reignited the presence of her spirit in his heart. The thought spooked him and he let out a shaky breath, changing gears as he said, “I knew their mother should have one. You would’ve been proud.”

When a flash of pain crossed her face at the reminder that she had missed their first adventure, he corrected himself. “You will be proud. Oh Della, just wait until you go on your own adventure with them for the first time.” He got starry-eyed as he nudged her with his shoulder. “They’re just like ye.”

Della flipped the coin over in her palm, noting the Atlantean engravings, before she clutched it with her fist and stared at her hand. “This coin is gonna see two adventures,” she promised, more to herself than anyone. She turned to Scrooge and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Uncle Scrooge.”

He caught her at his side with his arm and nuzzled his head against hers in response.

They stayed like that for a while in comfortable silence, watching the stars and catching a few meteors, until a few raindrops landed on their beaks. They turned around towards the horizon and saw the storm front that had crept up behind them during their stargazing.

As the rain started to come down in spades, Scrooge stood up straight and made for the balcony’s door, relaying, “We should go back inside, my dear.” It was getting late, anyway, and he knew she was tired.

But when he opened the door and took a step back to let her go in first, only to see she hadn’t followed him, his eyes trailed back to the railing to see a sight more valuable that all the gold in his Money Bin.

Della stood tall, her head tilted back and laughter bubbling freely from her beak. The rain gained strength by the second as it soaked her feathers, yet she welcomed every drop, throwing her arms open wide to the heavens.

It was the one difference she had failed to mention—there was no rain on the moon. Yet as drenched as she was getting, it was evident how much she had missed it, and how much it was healing her spirit. It made her shine.

And that, in turn, healed his soul.

#DuckTales #DuckTales 2017 #Scrooge McDuck #Della Duck #Huey Dewey and Louie #my fanfics #a bunch of uncle-niece fluff #and a nice dash of angst ;)#and me being the space nerd that I am all over the place

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