#okay but yesterday i mashed my toe slamming it against a chair and when I tell u everyone STOPPED

[strawberrystepmom]

gojo and f!reader are in a semi established relationship aka idiots in love. the best match for a drama queen is someone who indulges their drama.

divider by @/cafekitsune 🫂

When your index finger catches on the side of one of the packets of paper you are handing out to not only your fellow sorcerers and teacher but your students as well, everyone stops for a moment. Their breath catches when you hiss and you can cut the tension with a knife while everyone awaits the inevitable.

Satoru’s overzealous dramatics.

“How could they do this to you?!”

Gojo stands from where he is sitting and comes to your side, delicately holding his hand out to look at your injured finger. Despite yourself, you giggle and hold it out with a pout and everyone unfortunately witnessing the pair of you rolls their eyes at how effectively you manage to get everyone off topic completely in a matter of seconds.

“Uh, Nanamin?” Yuji leans over the shoulder of the man sitting in front of him and Kento sighs, veins already bulging out of the side of his head. “Who is “they”? Who is hurting her?”

The blonde man shakes his head and looks halfway over his shoulder, brown eyes narrowed while Gojo continues to fuss over your finger, loudly vowing revenge upon whatever cosmic force did this to you - a paper cut that probably isn’t even bleeding.

“It’s nobody, Itadori. The two of them are unfortunately very dramatic and feed off of one another.”

Yuji feigns understanding, nodding his head slowly. He doesn’t understand why Gojo is frantically petting your completely unharmed finger but it has to be one of those things about love people tell him about. It’s always the little things if the stories passed down by old people are to be believed.

This level of drama doesn’t really seem like a little thing but at least there seems to be a good understanding between you guys of what the other needs.

“Better now?” Gojo asks you and you nod with a smile, holding your unharmed finger in the air. “Yup, all good.”

A sigh of relief washes over the room, everyone’s shoulders relaxing as it appears the task at hand will return to being relevant. You shuffle the stack of papers in your hands and take a step forward, only to stumble embarrassingly when you trip over your shoes.

Everyone groans again when Gojo, who barely made his way back to his seat, rises and holds his arms in the air, palms extended.

“Not again! I warned you!” He shouts at the ceiling, balling his fists with all the drama of a man fueled by vengeance for his harmed lover.

Your cheeks warm when a room full of people turns to glance at you incredulously, lips pursed and brows raised. Satoru rants and promises heads delivered to your doorstep and you just shrug and play it off, pressing a packet to each desk in front of you.

[rebellingstagnationblog]

400 Follower Celebration 🥳

I never thought I would have so many people following me! I am so grateful for each and every one of you ☺️

To celebrate, I am sharing the first chapter of my current WIP. It seemed like a good idea to share it with all of you, even though this breaks with my tradition of finishing the whole story before publishing.

This is the playlist for my WIP “Shake, Rattle, and Roll”. (The first chapter is “Sh-Boom”)

Let me know what you think! I go back and forth on publishing the whole thing, as @historian-in-pearls can tell you!

—…—…—…— Darkwing Duck —…—…—…—

The knocking on his front door turned to pounding as Drake walked out of the kitchen. A solid boom boom boom boom that rattled the door on its hinges.

He’d heard whoever it was when they had knocked the first time. Did they need to be so dramatic about it? (And, no, the irony of getting annoyed at someone being overly dramatic was not lost on him.)

Drake couldn't withhold a scowl as he yanked the door open.

Scrooge McDuck stood on his front stoop, looking much the worse for wear in his torn clothes, stained top hat, ruffled feathers, and cracked glasses.

Drake’s irritation melted away as his eyebrows rocketed upwards. “Is that a helicopter in my street?”

It was. Parked right in the middle of the road. The blades twisted lazily around as black smoke drifted in a column towards the sky.

“Where’s Gosalyn?” Scrooge asked.

His stomach dropping, Drake tried to swallow around his suddenly dry throat. “What do you mean where’s Gosalyn?”

“She didn't answer my distress call to Strike Team Omega. Luckily I had some old friends in the nearby village, so we managed to escape. Barely.” Scrooge braced a hand on the door jamb, suddenly looking exhausted. “You don't know where she is?”

Drake shook his head, taking deep breaths in the hopes that more oxygen would slow his racing heart. “I thought she was with Max.”

It was Scrooge’s turn to shake his head. “The lad hasn't seen her since yesterday. I sent him to the Negaverse to make sure she hasn't wandered over there.” Scrooge eyed Drake through his spectacles, his piercing gaze not at all diminished through the spidery cracks. “Get yer suit.”

“W-what?” Drake asked, too distracted by Gosalyn’s imminent disappearance to convincingly pull off ignorance.

“This is a job for Darkwing Duck, don't you agree?”

Drake glanced over Scrooge’s shoulder to eye the damage that had already been wrought by Gosalyn’s disappearance. The wrecked helicopter smoking with idyllic suburbia in the background awakened something in him, and he snapped to attention.

“I think it is.”

There was no use in pretending anymore; Scrooge clearly knew that Drake and Darkwing were one in the same. How long he'd known was another question (as was if Gosalyn had been apart of the discovery. Which was likely; she wasn’t able to keep anything resembling a secret for very long), but it hardly mattered in the cloud of this potential devastation looming large over Drake’s life.

“I’ll call Launchpad to fix the helicopter then we can start searching for her.”

Scrooge glanced over his shoulder at the helicopter before looking back at Drake. “This might be beyond even Launchpad’s capabilities.”

“Launchpad can pilot anything,” Drake said confidently, beckoning Scrooge inside. “He’ll have this in the air in no time.”

“No time isn't much of an estimate.”

Drake closed the door with a snap. “I’m well aware of the time constraints. This is my daughter.” He inhaled deeply, trying to squash the panic that was welling up within him. He needed to be levelheaded. Keep his cool. For Gosalyn’s sake. “Launchpad is the only one I trust to move a smoking helicopter from the middle of a suburban street. Gosalyn can protect herself until I get there. Wherever she is.”

Scrooge gave him a small smile. “In that case, would ye object if I asked to clean myself up?”

“Bathroom’s upstairs on the right.”

Scrooge glanced up the staircase. “I’ve got Gyro looking for her, too, you know.” He eyed Drake through his fractured glasses. “Once we’ve cleaned things up here, we can go to his lab to see what he’s found. Max should be back by then, too, with his news.”

“And probably with Negaduck. He won’t sit idly by with Gosalyn missing.”

Scrooge smiled. “My thoughts exactly. With so many of us looking, we will find her.”

“I know.”

He didn’t.

He hoped.

Which was very different from knowing.

Drake nodded to Scrooge and turned to the living room, heading over to the easy chairs.

If he stopped to think about the details of this, he'd be paralyzed. His girl. Missing. His breathing was ragged as he raced to the Tower to collect Launchpad.

Maybe there was nothing to worry about. Maybe Gosalyn was with Negaduck. Or perhaps she’d show up in a few hours, battered from a recent scuffle with a villain, but not missing in the wilds of who-knows-where.

Until he could gather more information, Drake wasn't going to let this worry consume him.

He couldn’t.

—…—…—…— Negaduck —…—…—…—

The knock on the front door was faint. Hesitant. Almost not even there.

But Negaduck leaped over the back of the couch and dropped to the floor all the same.

Who the hell was on the other side of his door?

Knocking on it for evil’s sake?

No one visited him.

Well, Gosalyn did.

But she gave up knocking on doors years ago.

So, who was knocking now?

Who had the gall?

Negaduck peered around the sofa and reached for a weapon from the stash stowed under his couch. He hoped for something impressive, like his bazooka, but his fingers curled around his spiked club instead.

Well.

All right.

It would do.

Pulling it out and slowly standing, he breathed in deeply as the hesitant knocking came again. Three precise tap-tap-taps. This person didn't even have the nerve to knock like they meant it. And they were at Negaduck’s house?

There was no chance they were lost. Negaduck’s block had been deserted for years. He'd made sure of that. Too paranoid that his neighbors were watching his every move, planning something to overpower him.

He padded across the room, keeping his movements steady until he reached the front door. Gripping the knob, he lost no time.

In wrenching the door open.

Club held high.

Over a cowering Max, whose eyes were wide with his hands flying up over his head when he saw the weapon.

Releasing his breath in a huff, Negaduck relaxed his arm, the club dropping down to his side. “What the fu—?”

“Is Gosalyn here?” Max asked. More like half-yelled. Which was so unnecessary; Negaduck had practically dropped the weapon. He clearly wasn't going to attack anymore. There was no need for the drama.

“Why would Gosalyn be here?” Negaduck asked.

Max slowly stood straight, his hands returning to his sides as he regarded Negaduck seriously. “Because she's not anywhere else.”

Negaduck gripped the doorknob hard, hoping the world would stop spinning. “What?”

Max swallowed. “Scrooge called her in for a mission, I guess. But she never answered. I haven't seen her since last night, so we thought she might be here.”

His mind whirling through all of their enemies like a rolodex, Negaduck snarled deep in his throat. If any of them had even looked in her general direction, he would end them.

“Let’s go,” he growled, stepping out and slamming the door shut.

“Okay,” Max squeaked out, following Negaduck on his heels. “I, um, don’t— I guess I'm trying to say I…. Where are we going, sir? I mean Negaduck?”

He wasn’t really paying attention to how high Max’s voice was getting or how he stumbled over his words almost as much as he stumbled down the street. There was only one objective he had in mind and he wouldn’t rest until he’d finished the job. “Just gonna make sure no one here has seen Gosalyn.”

“Sure, right. Um, I think that you ‘making sure’ of something is different from when I make sure of something?”

Negaduck whirled around, his cape trailing behind him in a glorious arc of black and scarlet as Max stopped and stared at Negaduck with his wide brown eyes.

“Sorry!” Max blurted out. “You just… you make me nervous on a normal day, and now you’re all… angry and that’s so much worse. I just don’t wanna be apart of something that I can’t, like, handle, you know?”

“You’re not going to do anything. I will be shaking down every villain and citizen in this godforsaken city. I won’t rest until I’ve looked through every abandoned building, underground sanctuary, and hazardous wasteland. Because if she’s not in your universe and she isn’t here, then that means….”

That meant.

She was likely in some other universe.

And he had no way of knowing which one.

Finding him in Oblivion had taken Gosalyn three years. The thought of being without her for that long of time — again — or perhaps even longer….

Straightening up, Negaduck glared at Max. “Go back home. Find Darkwing and scour that universe of yours. I’ll meet up with you after I’ve searched the Negaverse.”

Max nodded, looking immeasurably relieved.

Negaduck didn’t wait. Not for any parting words. Or to see if Max made it back to the Prime Universe safely.

He just spun on his heel and stalked down the street, already mapping out the route he’d be taking on his search of the Negaverse.

Best of luck to anyone who thought they could kidnap his girl.

—…—…—…— Gosalyn —…—…—…—

Light filtered through her eyelids. She shifted slightly, groaning when her head pounded in protest.

She’d definitely been drugged, then.

Slowly blinking awake, the gray blobs surrounding her slowly became clearer as she was able to focus.

But the color didn’t change.

Everything was gray.

The concrete ground she was lying on with her face mashed up against its cool surface. The cot that was standing across from her. The large bricks stacked on top of one another to form the walls.

This was probably a cell.

Before attempting to move, Gosalyn took stock of how she was feeling. Moved her fingers, her toes, flexed the muscles of her arms and legs. Nothing felt broken or bruised. She wasn’t in any pain except for the killer headache raging against her skull. There wasn’t anything binding her arms or her legs.

Which was a mistake. Even if she was locked in a cell, not restraining her was ill advised.

Slowly, she sat up, rolling her shoulders and stretching her neck.

She was definitely in a cell; there were gray bars behind her that she caught a glimpse of when she twisted around to stretch her back.

Bold of whoever it was who had kidnapped her. Not only would she probably (definitely) break free, but they’d have Darkwing and Negaduck hot on their trail. She almost felt sorry for her kidnappers.

A scraping noise caught her attention and she glanced through the bars out into the long gray stone hallway that separated her cell from another across the way.

The scraping stopped.

Then started again.

Before Gosalyn had the chance to get up and investigate what it might be, a robot slid into view, metal beak closed and claw-like hands relaxed. Its glowing eyes peered at her.

Okay.

Cool.

“Gosalyn Mallard,” the robot said, voice graveled and deep.

“That’s me,” she said, getting to her feet to walk closer.

“You have been charged with wandering the multiverse and interfering in others lives, resulting in permanent damages to said worlds. The Adjudicator will be along shortly to review all of your offenses and deliver your punishment. Before I dispatch the call to bring the Adjudicator over, you are required by law to be given the opportunity to ask one question. What would you like me to answer?”

The robot fell silent and Gosalyn studied it.

One question.

Really?

Just one question?

She had a thousand of them.

Where was she? Had she been kidnapped? Who (or what) was the Adjudicator? Since when was multiverse travel illegal? And who’d made it illegal? Were there actual police for that sort of thing? Then there was the whole matter of the “innocent until proven guilty” thing; was that a law here? Was there going to be some sort of trial where she was judged by a jury of her peers?

Also, what?

But she could only ask one.

She’d have to pick it carefully.

The question, “Who do you serve?” turned over in her mind a few times, but the robot would probably just say “the Adjudicator” and what good would that do her? If she asked, “Where am I?” she might just be given the name of the prison instead of a more finite location. Since she was going to meet with the Adjudicator, she could save all her questions about a trial and her sentencing until then. Unless he, too, was a robot, in which case she’d have to get very specific once he showed up.

Cocking her head to one side, she settled on her question. “Am I in another universe?”

“Affirmative,” the robot stated. “Question answered. Dispatching call to the Adjudicator now.” The robot wheeled away, Gosalyn pressing herself up against the bars to watch it roll down the hallway to her left. The scraping noise turned out to be a door at the end of the hall that slid open to allow the robot through before sliding shut again.

So.

She was in another universe.

From the looks of it, one she hadn’t been to before. But could she really judge a universe based on the inside of one jail cell? Maybe she had been here before. There was no way of knowing.

Her father, also, wouldn’t know where she’d gone.

Nor would Negaduck.

Nor Max.

She was alone. Stranded in another world to await punishment for traveling.

And she didn’t even have her quiver or bow to help.

Grabbing ahold of the cold metal bars, she glanced up to where they were fixed into the stone.

There had to be a way out of here.