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waveypedia · 4 years

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Scroldie Week Day 1 - AU (Duck Crossing AU)

Scrooge McDuck had always risen with the sun. Whether it be in his ancestral home of Scotland, his longtime residence of Duckburg, or his current home - the formerly-deserted island of New Horizons. His daily life had wavered and changed many times over the years, but this one routine remained the same.

Sometimes, Scrooge would be joined on his early risings by one of the island’s residents - most frequently his honorary niece Webby, the island’s Resident Representative. She loved to be awake at odd hours, solving an adventurous mystery or tracking an elusive bug. Or his nephew Donald, when he was on shore leave (or fell off his boat and got stranded on the beach), whose insomnia meant he knew the night well. Dewey, like Webby, loved to be awake at night just for the fun of it - although Scrooge had implemented a 10pm curfew on his nephews’ store so they would be well-rested and have a clear head for the next day of business.

While Scrooge loved the company of his family, blood or not, he preferred it most of all when he was alone. He would watch the sun rise slowly over New Horizons and revel in his successful business and daily adventures on his island with his family. Island life, despite its token serenity, could be quite hectic sometimes, and Scrooge took great comfort in those rare moments of peace in the liminal sunrise space. He was safe and happy and successful, and so was his family. Aside from adventure and money, what more could a duck need in life?

(That was a lie. There would always be more in life for Scrooge to discover, and he would never be fully at peace. But sometimes, it was nice to push those lingering doubts away.)

This morning was just like one of Scrooge’s picturesque favorites - he sat, alone and peaceful, on a bench overlooking the beach. The waves crashed rhythmically against the shore, humming with the promise of fish and treasure and adventure. Scrooge drummed his fingers impatiently against his fishing rod, but otherwise simply waited for the fish to bite his superior bait. While he waited, he watched the sun rise and the sky burst in a symphony of beautiful colors that would have Webby and Huey painting one of these days.

The slight breeze and the rustle of leaves and early-morning bugs, as well as the waves, were the only sounds penetrating the serene morning air. Scrooge leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a fleeting moment, content in his moment of peace and quiet before the hustle and bustle of island life.

Then a loud ship’s horn honked, shattering Scrooge’s picturesque morning into a thousand pieces.

Scrooge groaned and frustratedly ripped his fishing pole from the water, probably traumatizing some poor random fish, and stuffed it ungracefully in his pocket. He snatched his cane from the ground and stomped in the direction of the ungodly noise, muttering angrily under his breath. “Blasted boats, blasted sailors, blasted- RUINING MY MORNING-“

Sailors. It better not be Donald and his Navy crew again. Scrooge’s fists trembled with anger, ready to give them a piece of his mind, nephew and his friends or no. Fethry and Gladstone, his other seafaring family, wouldn’t fare any better (definitely worse, in Gladstone’s case).

Webby, likely roused from her sleep by the horn, sprinted in the direction of the shops (probably to see the boys). She paused as Scrooge passed, but didn’t cross him as he stormed towards the culprit of the sound.

“Sir?”

Scrooge slowed his pace to a brisk walk as he passed his workplace. His hired assistant, Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera, rushed up to his side. Scrooge glowered at him, but evidently it was not enough.

“Yes?” He kept his tone clipped and as free of his anger as he could manage.

Fenton tapped his fingertips together nervously. “Remember the person you had me issue a warning about over the morning announcements a couple days ago? The, ah, dangerous one?”

Fury washed over Scrooge as the pieces clicked into place. He nodded once, curt and sharp, and stormed off to the secret beach.

The sight that awaited him was just what Scrooge expected, but that in no way made it welcome.

“Hooty-hoo, Scroogey!!!”

A small boat, flying a telltale gold flag, had docked on Scrooge’s beach. Annoying, although he was significantly less concerned about the boat than its inhabitant.

Goldie O’Gilt, his old business partner. And current rival.

She beamed smugly at him from the deck of the boat, radiating barely veiled triumph. “Nice to see you too, old man!”

“Goldie,” Scrooge groaned, dragging a hand down his face in frustration. This was going to be a long day.

He allowed his beak to curve slightly into the smallest of smiles. “It’s good to know you haven’t been arrested again.”

“Awww,” Goldie replied, dramatically placing a hand over her heart. “It almost sounds like you care about me, Moneybags.”

I do, Scrooge whispered internally, but his pride refused to let him admit it. “What do you want with my island?” he asked instead, rough and sharp as always.

That was the key to dealing with Goldie. Stay tough and guard your heart. It kept the pair in their precarious game with each other, dancing around their feelings, both staunchly refusing to be the first to break and confess.

(She cared too.)

“Who’s this, Uncle Scrooge?” Dewey, loud and boisterous, had probably been investigating the mysterious disturbance to the island’s serene morning peace, and the cryptic stranger that brought it. He stared up at his uncle with wide, curious eyes.

“I’m just here to sell some pretty art, Scroogey,” Goldie called before Scrooge could reply - probably on purpose, to shape Dewey’s first impression of her. “I’m sure those kids of yours would appreciate some quality art pieces. Difficult to find, too!”

Scrooge growled. “Where did you steal them from?”

Goldie waved a hand breezily, dismissively. “Oh, hon, not all of them are stolen,” she responded, faking hurt. “I can’t believe you would assume I would steal art!”

Scrooge rolled his eyes. “Oh come now, Goldie. Forgeries, then?”

Huey perked up and hefted his Junior Woodchuck Guidebook from where he, Louie, Webby, Lena, and Boyd were crouched behind a bush nearby. “I can evaluate them, Uncle Scrooge!”

Scrooge didn’t miss the way Louie’s eyes lit up at the idea of selling forgeries or stolen art. Best to nip that one in the bud. “Good, Huey. That’s part of your job, in case someone donates Goldie’s art to the museum.”

Goldie huffed and slipped off her boat. “Whatever. You have my word that all my art is one hundred percent real. And a lady would never go back on her word, now would she?”

Louie and Webby ran after her, eyes shining as the latter peppered her with enthusiastic questions and the former watched closely. Lena, Huey, and Boyd took the opportunity to join Dewey and Scrooge at the crest of the secret beach as they watched the trio leave skeptically.

Dewey tugged gently on Scrooge’s sleeve, grabbing his uncle’s attention. “You never answered my question. Who is she?” Scrooge noticed Huey flipping open his Junior Woodchuck Guidebook, pen posed carefully to add a new entry.

��That’s Goldie O’Gilt, lad,” he replied gruffly, turning on his heel to follow Goldie and the rest of his kids back to the plaza. “My old business partner.”

The kids lit up with a barrage of boisterous questions, but Scrooge answered them on autopilot. He was too immersed in thinking about Goldie. What her re-emergence would mean for him. For them.

They had seen each other briefly in the years since Scrooge stormed angrily out of Goldie’s business. He wanted to make his money square, even if it landed him destitute. He was an honest man.

Unfortunately, it had forever soiled things between them, ruining opportunities and pathways Scrooge never would have thought to mourn before he left.

But now…

Maybe now, with his successful business, and Goldie so desperate she’d come to leech off of it, maybe he could mend the bridge.

He’d just have to make sure she didn’t scam any of his residents first.

happy scroldie weekend!! this ended up having a little more worldbuilding than scroldie but whatever, i honestly forgot about it so i wrote this today haha. it’s not the best quality sorry

duck crossing au comes from the delpad discord!! it’s such a cool au, and Scrooge and Goldie fit Nook and Redd so well!! i had fun exploring some of the other roles too. i don’t think Fenton fits Isabelle that well in job description, but their personalities are the closest match.

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #dt17 #scroldie #scrooge mcduck #goldie o'gilt #huey duck #dewey duck #webby vanderquack #fenton crackshell-cabrera #ducktales fanfiction #wavey writes #my fanfic #animal crossing #acnh #tom nook #scroldie weekend

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hoodoo12 · 4 years

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Great Vengeance and Furious Anger (a Ménage continuation)

SFW; Beetlejuice/Angel Dewey Finn, intruder, minor violence, a true guardian

@beetlewise-and-pennyjuice @thewolfisapartofmysoul @janitor-boy @dilfyjuice @ironmansuucks

Enjoy!

There was a sound.

A muffled sound.

A sound of stealth.

A footstep.

A deliberately soft footstep that was out of place in the deep of night, when the windows were open and crickets sang to each other, when it should be slow and sleepy and quiet.

A deliberately soft footstep in a room where no one should be, because the three who lived here were tangled on a bed.

Beetlejuice cocked his head and listened harder.

Beyond the Molly’s soft breathing and Dewey’s equally soft mimic of breathing, there were more footsteps. In the living room.

Moving smoothly to avoid disturbing his lovers, he slipped off the edge of the mattress. Dewey muttered something incoherent and the wing that he liked to blanket the two of them under fluttered. Molly sighed and even though asleep, sensed Beetlejuice wasn’t beside her. Instead of waking, she flipped and snuggled closer to the angel.

Good.

They could stay together, asleep. He’d go find out and take care of whatever--whoever--was in the other room.

He’d eliminate it.

Light-footed as a cat, he crept from the bedroom.

Just as he’d suspected, just as he’d feared and hoped, there was a guy quietly going through Molly’s things. Specifically the drawers she kept some of her supplies for rituals and spellwork. Beetlejuice almost laughed; if the guy was expecting to find silverware or jewelry, he was going to be sadly disappointed!

But the intruder didn’t seem to be upset or disgusted by what he found. Holding a penlight wrapped in red cellophane in his mouth, he used both hands to pick up and discard various items. Random things, uncommon things like a porcupine foot and a bit of a corpse flower preserved in purified rain water, he slipped into the satchel at his side. The guy was systematic and thorough, and that was unnerving.

He knew what to expect from this house. He knew what he was looking for. This wasn’t a simple burglary.

The man finished with one drawer and went to the next. It was one Molly had sealed with green and white wax along the edges of the drawer. With no hesitation, the intruder broke the wax and pulled the drawer open. The faintest suggestion of a glow was visible as it came free.

Eyes wide and his lips pulled back to show his teeth, Beetlejuice sunk to the floor into a crouch.

That drawer was special. That drawer was important. Molly kept the most private, most intimate, things there. Protected by wards and prayers, lined with deep purple velvet, it contained three crystal vials: one with a fingernail he’d broken off, one containing a small downy feather from Dewey’s wings, and the smallest that held several of her hairs. Bound together with red string, the collected parts of them were symbolic of their commitment to one another.

And this thief was pawing into that sacred space.

Beetlejuice could be invisible. He could simply walk up to the guy and twist his head off his neck, damn the mess it would make. But where was the fun in that? This intruder needed to be made to fear, made to understand he had broken into the wrong house, even if he was looking for magical artifacts.

He crept forward on all fours, tentacles erupting from him and sliding along the floor like inkstains even darker than the shadows that cloaked the room. He licked his teeth and cut his tongue on their points, and grinned as he readied himself to launch at this fool, and make him pay.

All muscles tensed, sharpened fingernails digging into Molly’s carpet and tentacles writhing, eager to envelope the man, he took one second to relish the anticipation of the attack.

In that one second, the man’s hand closed around the three vials. He smiled too, and snapped the fingers of his other hand, and Beetlejuice was frozen, pinned like an insect to a board.

“Demons are so predictable,” the man muttered in a bored tone.

He couldn’t even move his eyes. Whatever this man had done, Beetlejuice was trapped. He watched, helplessly, bloody drool collecting on and then dripping from his lower lip because he couldn’t swallow, as the intruder examined his prize, shaking the three vials to get a better look at what they contained. He sighed and glanced down at his captive.

“A fingernail? That’s a bit mundane, don’t you think? You could have at least provided spit or semen.”

Even his tentacles, his shadow mass, were immobilized. He had no recourse, no protection as the man picked his way closer to him. He squatted when he was within a foot. Beetlejuice had no idea how he appeared to the man, in the muted red of the light he held. Terrifying? Pathetic? If he could simply break free, he’d tear him limb from limb, he’d make him pay for what he was doing, he’d kill him and feed his ghost to a Sandworm, then bumrush him straight to the Lost Souls’ Room for an eternity of desolate hopelessness--

“I think one of these would be a much better sample.”

In impotent anger that melted towards horror, Beetlejuice watched the man lift a tentacle. It was pliant and loose, like it belonged to someone else, but he could feel the pinch of the man’s grip. So he was pinned, but not nerveless. The silver edged knife that suddenly appeared in the intruder’s hand to lop off his tentacle was going to hurt like a son of a bitch, and he couldn’t do anything but watch it happen--

“TRESPASSER!” declared a voice with the toll of the deepest bell, a voice so deep the vibration of it was painful in not only his ears but his chest.

It hurt the man too, because he dropped everything he was holding--his knife and his penlight and the vials he’d pilfered--and automatically put his hands over his ears.

A brilliant white light erupted behind him, burning out all details of the room. Beetlejuice was happy he was facing away, because otherwise unable to blink he would have been blinded. His shadow mass disappeared under the intensity of the light, and he dropped flat to the carpet like he was a puppet that had its strings cut. He could move again, but didn’t.

“YOU DARE ENTER UNINVITED, YOU DARE TO TOUCH THAT WHICH IS NOT YOURS?”

At the burst of eye-burning brilliance, the intruder threw himself backward. Unable to cover both his ears and eyes, tears streamed down his face and he cried out. The noise he made was lost in the echo of Dewey’s words.

The light fluxed, and with his own eyes leaking tears, Beetlejuice squinted as Dewey stepped lightly over him, descending on the man. Wings outstretched, looking like every vengeful, smiting, wrath of God depiction of an angel ever created, he was cloaked in white-hot light. A true guardian angel, unchained. It hurt too much to look at him directly for more than a moment.

“THIS TRANSGRESSION DOES NOT WARRENT FORGIVENESS.”

Beetlejuice rapidly blinked his stinging eyes. Now that Dewey was between him and the intruder he could only hear the man trying to scramble backwards on the floor. He was sobbing and begging, his words tumbling over themselves in his effort to stop the angel from descending closer. The sharp smell of piss as the man’s bladder emptied made Beetlejuice grin.

“SILENCE.”

To his credit, the man immediately obeyed that word. Dewey’s voice, still tolling like a bell, seemed to echo in the confines of the living room.

It was still too bright to see exactly what happened next, but it appeared that as Dewey stood over the intruder, his wings came around and enveloped him. The man gave one final blubbering sob, and then as quickly as turning off a switch, the blinding holy light that had erupted from Dewey was gone.

Beetlejuice lay where he was, stomach down on the floor, for a moment longer. He would have expected his vision to be burnt out longer, or for his ears to ring, but neither of those happened. The house was as quiet and still as it had been before he’d been aware someone had broken in.

The only evidence there’d even been someone else was the satchel, the dropped penlight and knife, the wet spot of urine soaked into the carpet, and the three crystal vials on the floor. The man himself was gone.

Dewey turned and padded back over to him, his wings now tucked along his back. Wearing only boxer shorts, he looked less like an avenging angel and more someone half awake looking for a midnight snack. He stepped over the objects left in the intruder’s wake, but Beetlejuice stretched forward and snagged the vials as Dewey helped him to his feet.

“What did you do to that asshole?” he asked, as the angel looked him over fretfully and gently wiped the tears off his cheeks.

“I sent him away. Dropped him in a park about a hundred miles away. Wiped his memory of anything to do with witchery. He’ll just be another boring accountant, as stereotypical as they’re made out to be.”

Beetlejuice chuckled.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded, even though Dewey continued to look him over like maybe he wasn’t being truthful.

“I appreciate the assist. I didn’t expect him to have one up on me.”

The angel smiled. “I’ll let you take out the next intruder. Come on, let’s go back to bed. We can tell Molly what happened tomorrow, and let her know she’s got a new knife.”

He slipped an arm around the demon’s waist to lead him back to the bedroom. Beetlejuice paused a second, to slip the three vials back into the velvet lined drawer meant for them. He shut it and made a mental note to have Molly re-seal the drawer.

“You sounded pretty apocalyptic, Dew,” he teased lightly. “You dare touch that which is not yours, and all that. I’m glad you saved all of Molly’s stuff.”

“Hmm?” the angel replied, again sounding more than half asleep. “Oh. That. I didn’t mean the ingredients or even those little vials. I meant you, baby.”

Dewey pressed a kiss to the side of the demon’s head, and herded him back to bed.

fin!

#writing #fanfiction #Beetlejuice #Dewey Finn #Beetlejuice x Dewey Finn #AU

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nitr0glycer1ne · 4 years

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Ducktober/Duckvember Day 7 - Redraw/Rewrite

Heya! I decided to change the theme from redraw to rewrite, and chose the ending of one of my favorite episodes, The Duck Knight Returns!. Except, there might be a twist... Enjoy!

Two Darkwings ran towards the terrifying machine, but only one managed to stand in front of it and push the other, and Launchpad, out of the way. Launchpad’s eyes met the youngest Darkwing’s, their fiery brown shining bright with sheer heroism and a mischievous spark, then-

The explosion was as deafening as it was heart shattering, blinding Launchpad and the man standing next to him. They couldn’t even see if Darkwing was injured, not with the heavy smoke filling the space around the giant electric rod that had gone up in flames. There were screams in the studio, but none of them reached Launchpad’s ears, filled with a painful ringing and a throbbing sensation of guilt. He should have run towards what was left of the machine, even though there was little hope Darkwing was uninjured, or even that he had survived, but he couldn’t, his legs frozen in place and in time.

Launchpad only managed to turn his head from the disaster when he sensed someone collapsing next to him. His watery eyes found the crumbled form of Jim Starling, kneeling on the ground, his body limp and slightly trembling. His hat had been blasted a few meters away by the explosion, allowing Launchpad to glimpse at the actor’s face, seeing all of the regret and the misery of the world on it.

And then, Launchpad wasn’t looking at his cherished idol anymore. Jim Starling was nothing more than an old, bitter man, desperate for attention and clinging to his past glory as if clinging on to life. There was no Darkwing Duck in that instant- only a sad man coming to terms with the disastrous consequences of his hubris.

Launchpad found himself sitting on a chair in the studio, facing the wall as if to make sure what was left of the disaster wasn’t in his field of vision. He hadn’t any recollection of how he had ended up there, but the boy sitting next to him was a clue, as was the warm plastic cup he handed the pilot.

“Didn’t find real hot chocolate here.” Dewey apologized. “Only the stuff in vending machine where they put water instead of milk… buuut, I did find some marshmallows to put inside!”

Dewey smiled at his friend, adding a few of the sugary treats in the beverage. Launchpad gave the kid a weak smile, nothing like the joyous smile he seemed to have in all circumstances. It pained Dewey to see such hurt on the pilot’s face, but he hoped things would quickly be back to normal.

“Hey, it was an amazing fight, wasn’t it?” he tried to cheer his friend up. “I’m sure Darkwing, I mean, the one who wasn’t a bad guy, is somewhere under that pile of junk. He looks pretty strong!” “Yeah…” Launchpad nodded, sipping some of the cocoa. It was barely drinkable, but he truly appreciated the gesture nonetheless. “He’s a real strong guy.”

Launchpad kept on drinking, and Dewey kept on talking, hoping to help his friend regain his usual optimism. The duck had barely finished his drink when a hand tapped on his shoulder:

“Hey, you’re the guy who tried to stop the fight between those two actors, right?” “Yeah, why?”

There was an unspoken surprise in Launchpad’s answer. He quickly got up, finding himself face to face with a police officer, behind which stood a handcuffed Jim Starling. He still had his Darkwing costume on. The fabric was torn in some places, but it was overall in good condition in spite of the rough fight it had been through. He was still missing the hat, but the mask had stayed on, and there were faint wet trails right beneath his eyes, slightly darkening the fabric.

“Starling here had something to tell you.”

The actor sighed and rolled his eyes. Clearly, he was annoyed and had trouble saying what he wanted to. Launchpad somewhat expected him to rant about the way he betrayed him when he sided with the other actor – whose name, Launchpad realized with painful guilt, he had never bothered to ask -, so the pilot was quite taken aback by the words Starling mumbled:

“I’m sorry, kid. I guess I’ve been a bit too far.”

It took Launchpad a few moments to get past his initial surprise, and he was about to answer, but Dewey was quicker than him:

“You sure did!” he scolded angrily, putting himself between Launchpad and Jim. “Why- how could you do that? Isn’t that pushing the whole method acting thing a bit too far?! That guy was a huge fan, you know!”

Launchpad had seldom seen Dewey get so angry. The small duck was glaring at the former actor, and Jim was answering with a look equally heinous, except his glare was tinted with sadness.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” he spat. “Do you know what it’s like to go from being a famous and popular actor to being treated like a nobody barely good enough to do store openings?!” “You’ll tell that to the judge.” The policeman growled, not enjoying the way the discussion was going. “Come on, now. We’re going for a little ride to the nearest police station.” “Wait!” Launchpad finally yelled.

The three other ducks looked at him, perplexed. Launchpad took a deep breath, before locking his eyes with Jim’s:

“Mr Starling. I’ve always been your biggest fan, but…” he hesitated. He wasn’t that good with words, and was very aware of it; however, it was important for him to convey his feelings on the whole debacle to his idol. “… this was plain wrong. I admire your work, and you deserve more recognition for it… but you shouldn’t be acting like one of those villains Darkwing Duck fought all the time! You should be doing the exact opposite! When I’m at a loss as to what to do in a situation, I always ask myself “What would DW do?” and I think you should ask yourself that, too! You’re as strong and capable as you were in your prime, and it’s such a waste you’re using all of those amazing capabilities of yours to do… that!”

Launchpad concluded his monologue with a vague flailing of his arms. Dewey had watched him unfazed, used to the long rants his friend could go on when talking about his favourite show, and the policeman had looked at Launchpad as if he had gone insane. But Jim hadn’t. He hadn’t blinked during the whole speech, his eyes glued to his fan, and had felt the sheer admiration and happiness and love for Darkwing Duck radiating from the duck.

And as the policeman had dragged him away, he had given the smallest of nods, whispering the tiniest “I’ll think about it.”

The whole filming crew did their best to clean up the set, and to find the missing actor. But he was nowhere to be found; not even the smallest piece of fabric or feather remained on the set. Launchpad had helped them, looking everywhere; but he hadn’t found anything, save for a few splatters of what seemed to be purple paint. He had still searched through the whole studio and even the alleys surrounding it, desperate to find the actor he had gotten along so well with.

But he had never found him, and it was a very weary and sad Launchpad who drove Dewey back to the mansion. Dewey had live tweeted most of the action and sent his brothers text about the situation; and when the duo stepped on the front porch of the manor, Mrs Beakley opened the door, guiding them to the dining room, where dinner awaited them. It was late, since Launchpad had insisted on looking absolutely everywhere in his frantic search for his new friend, and the rest of the mansion’s inhabitants had long left to their respective rooms, although Dewey was sure he’d find his brothers awake and awaiting him with a lot of questions.

After eating their steaks, Dewey started to head towards his room, but was stopped by Launchpad:

“Hey, buddy. Thanks for your help, today.”

Launchpad’s regular smile was back on his beak. A bit weaker than usual, but it was a good start and warmed Dewey’s heart all the same.

“Anytime, buddy!”

Dewey didn’t try to escape the tight hug that followed.

A purple trail of dye stains the dirty water running through the sewers, dripping from a manhole and splashing in droplets. It paints a trail, one that leads to a duck slightly hunched over, his breathing a bit ragged from the way his lungs have been exposed to an important quantity of smoke in a short amount of time. His forehead is throbbing in pain, the deep ache echoing all the way to inside his head, as if it has taken over some of his brain. His hands are balled into fists, trembling under the force the duck is clenching them with. His clothes are a mess, cheap purple dye dripping from his coat, which is slowly turning yellow. A large red hat, its brim dented and burnt in some places, covers his face, hiding an almost feral grin and eyes widened in a crazed stare.

“How could I be so blind? Adoring such a monster, treating him as an idol? Ha! And to think I was so eager to ask him for advice, to share the spotlight with him…”

His breathing gets quicker and his voice raspier and louder as he keeps on talking to himself:

“After I worked so hard to earn that role, the role I dreamt for so long, the role I was born to play! Well, then, fine! So be it! If I can’t be Darkwing Duck, if that old fool wants the role so bad he’d lie for it, that he’d kill for it…”

He starts laughing, a laughter void of any joy, his head tilted back and his eyes glued to the ceiling.

“Then he can keep it! I’ll show him, I’ll show them all, how I’m better than him! And then, that idiot will be a relic of the past, and people like Launchpad will see how they were making the same mistake than me! I’ll show them the truth, even if I have to cause a few accidents for them to finally see that fossil for what he is!”

His laughter gets louder, and his pupils are blown wide, drowning the warm pool of his brown irises in cold darkness. ------ I hope you liked the idea of Drake becoming Negaduck and that the other characters weren't too OOC! I stand by what I said for Day 5 : like writing for Jim. I feel like if Drake was believed to be dead or at least MIA because of what he did, maybe that would be a wake up call. He wouldn't do a 180 degrees and become super nice, of course; he has a bad temper and an ego out of proportion. But it could be the start of something new. Maybe he'd become Darkwing IRL, maybe not... And Drake of course has a big ego. I can't imagine him turning evil with the way events played in canon, but what if getting so close to death and almost killed by his idol had been too much, on top of the concussion ? (I tried to hint he had a head trauma possibly injuring his frontal lobe, as that kind of serious injury can cause shifts in personality, plus the frontal lobe is, amongst other things, the one responsible of inhibitions). I also liked writing Dewey and Launchpad's friendship. It's a really cute and fun aspect of the show!

#ducktober #dewey duck #launchpad mcquack #jim starling #drake mallard #negaduck #darkwing duck #ducktales #ducktales 2017 #dt17 #my writing #my fics #dewey and launchpad

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meymemoriesss · 4 years

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My Senior High school Memories😇💖

Senior High school life is one of the most memorable moments that I encounter. Memories with my friends,classmates and as well as my teacher. Senior High school are full of happiness even though I have a challenges and there's a lot of paper works and other activities to do. But I've overcome this.These are the memorable events of my Senior High school. When I was in Grade 11 ,July 2018 is our declamation in Ma'am Aemira's subject,this is my first time I have ever experienced of it. Month of October 2018 is our Zumba Dance because of this dance we close to each other with my new classmates.And in this month we celebrate the Teachers day,we are all happy because me and my classmates are surprising her and because of that our adviser is very happy.December 2018 school have a contest to make parol in every section ,so our section make a parol made of mahogany. December 08,2018 I joined the Zombie Fun Run, five in the morning I already at school because it is the instruction. In this event I really enjoy it because this is also my first time to join a fun run like this.As we we're running there's have a zombies waiting on the side of the road for us to soaked with red water. After that we go to Ethel's house to do our research in Sir Eugene's subject. February 24,2019 this is the day of our fieldtrip is very happy and and I enjoy it. We have a lot of experience in different rides in Enchanted Kingdom. Also I amaze what I see in Venice Grand Mall cause it's beautiful. March 07,2019 is our Career Guidance Fashion Show and theater play ,sing a song in Ma'am Girlie's subject. We are tired of this task but we are work together at the same time so we finish it in the right time. Because of our hardship , me and my friends and other of my classmates received a medal for being woth honors in the class. After our recognition day we are start our immersion. In my immersion I experience to work properly, to cooperate to other people, being a responsible worker and be a good co-worker.

My Grade 11 memories are unforgettable but Grade 12 memories is the most. Even though it is sad because HUMSS JOHN DEWEY broken down cause our section is the smallest amount of students,so we separated and we were included in other section. Our loving adviser is pregnant so she decided to rest for her baby. In our new classroom are also happy and our adviser is kind and she love us. Sometimes in our classroom ,we have a misunderstanding but it is settled also. Grade 12 memories is hard but it's alright ,these is for my for my future. I also experience such as role plays and theater in Ma'am Aemira's subject. It is all about the story "The world is an Apple". In this role-playing we are have a lot of time to bond with my friends,while we do our props, practice the flow of the story,it's so much fun. My classmates go here in our house to do it and after our props and practice we decided to made a nilupak. So when our role play is presented we get a high grades. Our next task after that is to perform a folk dance in Physical Education to do a speechand present it on the class. Again we have a task to do and dance a festival dance.So our chosen dance is Maskara Festival. so, we do again a props and practice the dance moves. While we are doing out props, we are laughing to each others jokes,eating with my barkada's and if we have time we play and bonding together. After we finish to present our festival dance,we received a good comment from our Physical Education teacher. The day after that one of my friends died. I couldn't believe that Rommel was gone because he with us before that. So our Maskara dance is the last dance with him. We all sad and have a tears in our eyes because of what happened to him. A few months passed, we recover of the death of Rommel. December 12,2019 this is the day of our Christmas party. It is simple but happy. We have a boodle fight with our adviser and other teacher of HUMSS. After that we go to Pagara's house to continue our party. We have a simple exchange gift and cook some food like french fries, pancit and cheese sticks. And the last but not the least, we also have a fashion show in Trends.We wearing a old fashion clothes and the other one is a modern fashion clothes. Role-playing in Political Science and our subject teacher give us a good feedback. This are the event that unforgettable moments for me. Even if it is have a sad part but there's also have a good and happy part of my Senior Highschool . Also,there is one person that give me support and understand me even sometimes I'm a moody person.In my Senior Highschool I enjoy such things and moments with my classmates and friends/barkada's. I always remember our "kulitan, gala's, bangayan at sigawan. I am so thankful that they are being part of my life.

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fiederspiel · 5 years

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Today (April 15) is, according to DuckTales 2017, the triplets’ birthday. So, happy birthday to you, boys~!

Small headcanons of mine and the kids:

I took inspiration from one of my little brother’s favourite pullovers, as I see Lou being mostly about owning clothes/hoodies of all the coolest and most popular brands (I actually made myself jealous while drawing Louie’s hoodie...). Not only is he the smallest of the triplets, he’s a little chubbier as well because this little guy can be really lazy when wants to be. Though he really hates it when Dewey holds those two things over his head. Also, since the Christmas episode, I envision him looking like a smaller version of Donald (so I drew him the same way as I did Donald).

Dewey is the wild child. Not being able to sit still for more than 10 minutes straight, he always has to move around and do something. Unlike Lou, Dewey doesn’t care about the newest in & outs. No, he rather prefers clothes that are comfortable, and which allow him to move around freely and get dirty. By the end of most days, he manages to make a wild mess of his feathers, resulting in Donald preening him on a nearly daily basis (not that he is complaining. He not so secretly enjoys preening his boys. Dewey on the other hand..... too much sitting around with a patience he doesn’t have). Takes a lot after his mother.

Huey being the more mature brother that he is, likes to look more orderly and presentable, yet nothing too fancy. So, polo shirts for him. While he does have expensive brands (courtesy of Uncle Scrooge) he prefers to wear the simpler ones during the day. His cap is a must though (as the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook states: warm hat = warm thoughts). He’s the tallest of the three, and he soft and fluffy. I headcanon that he comes most after their father, appearance and maybe even personality wise. He is also a mother hen (especially around Louie) and actually enjoys helping his uncle around the household (lists! So many lists that he can make!).

Webby takes more after Dewey in terms of clothing preferences, though she does like it when it looks cute (Who says a badass girl who beats up goons on a regular basis can’t like cute things?). Younger than the triplets by a few months. The honorary and unofficially adopted fourth nephew of the Duck/McDuck family. Everyone knows how she idolises Scrooge, yet, while she had mentioned it briefly, no one of the triplets actually knows that she idolises Donald just as much (if not a little more), both for his past adventures with Scrooge and for how he cares for his boys so lovingly. She cherishes each moment she shares with her broken yet very loving family, her ohana. (*gasp* crossover reference)

#huey dewey and louie #huey duck #dewey duck #louie duck #webby vanderquack #ducktales #my art

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sad-little-nerd · 5 years

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Exploring Pearl's love life: The story, pros, cons, and her type (part one)

We all know Pearl as the strong and independent gem that we love her for becoming, but we also know that she does have a tendency of having problematic romantic relationships with certain people: Pink Diamond/Rose Quartz as a pretty good example (or THE only example) to explain why she was the way she was before her recent regeneration. Being Pink's replacement pearl, Pearl was expected to do a better job at what she's made to be better than Pink's origional pearl, Pink Pearl. During her service under Pink Diamond, we see that she starts having a secret crush on her own Diamond, as we see her blush when Pink looks down at Pearl. Her servitude towards her current owner leads to what she soon finds out is love, which is something unheard of or even looked down upon on Homeworld. During the war of Pink/Rose's rebellion, Pearl admits her feelings to Rose and attempted to fuse together, just to break off from eachother to keep their relationship a secret. As the war goes on, Garnet, a living embodiment of two lesbians in love, joins their side and fights for keeping their relationship together alongside Pearl and Rose. Thousands of years after the war, they meet Greg Demayo/Universe, who falls in love with Rose and become a happy couple together. Sadly, though, Pearl doesn't enjoy Greg being with Rose and outright betters him by fusing with Rose in front of him, making Rainbow Quartz. Even if Pearl had the upperhand in this situation, though, Greg was still on Rose's radar for a potential lover, which made Pearl mad. Going a year or so later, Rose is pregnant and Pearl is fine at first. However, after Steven is born, Pearl believed that the only gem who actually loved her was gone. 12-13 years later, Pearl is still thinking about Rose and even asks Steven, Greg and Rose's lovechild, "do you remember this place?" like he WAS Rose, which he's not. She couldn't get over how all of the pain and secrets she suffered through for all those thousands of years was just fought for nothing in her life. The thought of Rose and Greg still hurt her in an emotional way, making Pearl more dependent for Rose than she ever was, even if Rose was now out of the picture. She knew so much about Pink/Rose that, in one episode, she got angry over Rose keeping one secret from her. Her devotion towards Rose became an unhealthy obsession, eating her up until Steven came in to help her with her memories of Rose. I'm gonna go a bit out of the topic rn to explain Bismuth's relationship with Pearl. In the episode where we get to meet Bismuth for the first time, we see her flirting with Pearl, hugging her for being unable to see her for so long. How Bismuth jokes about Pearl belonging to someone shows that the two are close enough to joke about anything without the other being offended. It's even shown on Bismuths concept art that she flirts with Pearl like a construction worker and calls her a doll. Going back to Pearl and Rose, Pearl is uncomfortable about Greg giving her any physical contact, such as hugging for quite awhile and even had Dewey have a one-sided attraction towards her (which, since we all know Pearl for being a lesbian, was not able to happen). However, as time went on, Steven got his father and Pearl to talk it out about Rose and even started dancing with eachother, showing that they trust eachother more than they did before (at least, Pearl trusting Greg more, since Greg knows that the CGs will always protect Steven from harm). A whole bunch of episodes after letting out all the things that Pearl needed to say to Greg about Rose, we get to know who Rose TRULY was and WHY she started the rebellion: Pink Diamond, the smallest (and probably even the most defective) Diamond in the Diamond Authority of Homeworld, was always expected to grow up from her childish ways and become a more serious leader of her own colony. However, after finding out that she could go to her planet colony, Earth, to see her gems being made, she changed into a quartz soldier as a disguise from the other Diamonds so they don't notice her. When she visits Earth, she finds it as a beautiful place filled with many wonderful things in nature, all making Pearl by her side, who was falling in love with her even more than before. However, after finding out that she's destroying her own colony, Pink tried to stop the colony from being made, but to no luck what-so-ever. Then, filled with rage from the Diamonds being unable to listen to her, Pink changed into the Pink-Diamond-shattering, yet motherly and loving gem that we know as Rose Quartz to start her own rebellion against the Diamonds. Getting right back to Pearl, she experienced war trauma that nobody else (not even Lapis Lazuli) could've seen: her friends and allies dying, forcing herself to kill anyone, no matter how high in the class they were, and keeping Rose's real identity all a secret for her owner, Pink Diamond. Rose caused trauma in Pearl that we ALL know Pearl didn't deserve (I, especially, agree to that, even if I am a Pearlrose fan), but having Pearl fight for her right to be an independent gem rather than a slave for the rest of eternity was the one thing she wanted to share with Rose, the one who (technically) SAVED her from staying as who she was on Homeworld. If it wasn't for Steven, however, Pearl would still be obsessed with Rose, always keeping Rose's secret as actually being Pink Diamond, no matter how badly she wanted to tell anyone. If Rose was still alive, Pearl would still be dependent of Rose and she'd stay pretty much the same forever...which is why Steven HAD to be born. Steven helped the gems out with something different from the other: Garnet/Ruby and Sapphire with their romantic relationship and being independent gems, Amethyst with her self-esteem and her maturity, and Pearl with who she finds attractive and being more open with her secrets. *We'll continue on part two*

#steven universe #pearl

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chocosweetbun · 5 years

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ASOUE FIC 2.5K Words, Kitlafey

(I don’t write often, especially not fluff, so please forgive me =v=. Happy Valentine’s Day!!)

@huffleporg @madlovve and anyone else who enjoys this OT3!

(childhood friends/neighbors, there’s not enough au’s in this fandom that don’t follow canon, SLOW BURN god so slow- Theyre just friends for the first 2k words im so sorry)

Behind the school yard, a ways into the evergreen woods that stretch off into places no student ever dared to go, sits a strange sight. A patch a trees with branches low enough for the smallest of kids to climb, a clearing of light that cuts though tall soft grass and weeds, and a group of rocks that formed a throne fit for a forest king. No one ever saw it, no one ever went. It was the perfect spot for exactly 3 old friends to visit after years of absence, and yet they never did- at least, no one knew they did.

Kit Snicket was an adventurer. She fought off monsters under her bed, under her school desk, under- and over- teachers and other kids. You would think being 4’3 at age 10 would be a hindrance, but to her, and her wild red-brown hair that seemed to shift to blond in the sunlight, it was an advantage. She was popular to pick for every PE class, every recess, and every time someone needed defending on the playground. But that was only her at half power, for when she was with her two best friends, she was unstoppable. A wild-child in every sense of the word. Dewey Denouement didn’t exist. His brothers overshadowed him despite not meaning too and often the 11 year old was left in the back of the class to read whatever book he fancied that day. He wasn’t shy, but he had this quiet-politeness about him that made people think he faked his responses and conversations. Almost as though he just recited what he read somewhere. He just didn’t talk like a kid his age would, and it threw the others off. However, when he was with his two best friends his dazzling smile was present on his face no matter what. A calm boy who found where he belonged. Olaf (he dared tell no one his last name) was the kid everyone avoided. Due to unfortunate events and an odd placing birthday he was the oldest in his class at 13. Being 13 he had hit his “I hate everyone and everything” phase that all young teens go though, which meant he would often upset his younger classmates with harsh words and unpleasant actions passed off as pranks. His thin red-orange hair never seemed to be quite clean, his clothes were obviously expensive but never tidy, his fingers covered in small burns which he never would explain. The two classmates that would interact with him were the only reason he didn’t go insane being surrounded by people who refused to look his way. A strange teen who needed to let off smoke. Behind the school yard, a ways into the evergreen woods that stretched off into places no student ever dared to go, sat a strange sight. A patch a trees with branches low enough for the smallest of kids to climb, a clearing of light that cut though tall soft grass and weeds, and a group of rocks that formed a throne fit for a forest king. The group of friends found this when the schoolhouse’s kitchen caught fire and their class had to stand outside for the fire department to arrive. Olaf had snuck off, Kit behind him, and, when noticing his friends disappear into the trees, Dewey cocked a smile at the idea of a mini adventure and ran off to join them. “Holy shit- that’s a big snake-“ The eldest said, reaching out as though he was about to grab it. “What are you DOING?!” Kit pulled Olaf back with a surprising amount of strength. “It could kill you!” “Oh no it wouldn’t, I would kill it first before it even had the chance!” “Yeah right! Tell ‘em he would D I E Dewey!” “Ah-“ the middle child said, stuffing his book that he brought out to read in his backpack as the group walked further into the woods. ”That snake isn’t venomous so- He would probably be okay if it bit him-” “Dewey that didn’t help!” “Hey kit-kat mind letting go of me?” With that, Kit huffed as she pushed Olaf forward. “Fine but don’t go grabbing anything that Dewey doesn’t know the name of!” The child took hold of Dewey’s hand as she spoke- the innocent gesture was returned. “Fine fine- I won’t do anything pretty boy wouldn’t do.” And he continued the walk ahead. It wasn’t long before they found those trees, that clearing, and those rocks. They spent some time there playing- the faint sirens of firetrucks blaring in the distance telling them they were not missed- and as I’m sure you could imagine the three each found the best spot to be. Kit climbing the trees, Dewey lying in the grass, and Olaf perched on the rocks. They laughed, talked, threw leaves and grass, picked flowers (Dewey and Kit did- Olaf just watched) and overall had a good 30 minutes of time together before they heard the large red trucks drive away. “We should go back.” Dewey said. “Yeah, you’re right.” Kit replied, hopping down from a branch. Olaf came down from his throne and stood over the two, his face showing that he was deep in thought. “Are you guys doing anything after school tomorrow?” He said. ________________________________________________________________ ________________________________________________________________ The next day, and the day after that, and the day after that, the group kept visiting the hidden place in the trees. August turned to September, then October, then November. When it got too cold to go walking the trio would visit Olaf’s empty house and attempt to build forts and bake holiday cookies. But on New Year’s Eve the three agreed to hop out of their bedroom windows, run though the snow with flashlights in their small hands, and meet in the forest where they would all climb up the biggest tree and watch the fireworks from the very top. They neglected to think about the ice on the branches, and after the 5th time Kit slipped and fell- they gave up. “I’m telling you I CAN DO IT-“ Kit struggled in the grasp of Olaf’s arms, who was desperately trying to keep her from breaking her own neck. “You’ll break your neck!” Dewey said, standing in front of the tree with his arms spread- as if that would block the young girl from wanting to climb. “When has Dew ever been wrong, huh? Gah- stop it!” “AHH-!” Kit shouted as Olaf tackled her to the ground. You may be thinking ‘That boy is double her size! Surely he hurt her-‘ and you would be completely wrong. Olaf was a thin, weak child, and Kit was more durable then one might think. He pinned her down in the snow, sitting with his legs across her stomach, as though she were a pillow under his knees. “Get off of me! Uuuugh!!!” And with that last sigh, she was defeated. Olaf then plopped back, legs still over Kit, to lie in the cold snow. Dewey soon joined them, using Olaf’s stomach as a headrest. As the sound of fireworks began on the horizon, the three were all thinking the very same thing. “I really could have got up that tree-“ “We can die if we stay in the snow-” “I’m happy you guys are here with me-“ Well, not exactly the same thing. “I’m happy too! I really love you guys!” Kit said, using her arms to make a torso-only snow angel. The snow was not nearly deep enough though, so her jacket got stained with mud. “I love you both too!” Dewey said, using a foot to kick around some dead twigs in the ground. “Like a couple of kids like you could know what love is.” Olaf scoffed, his teen drama act rearing its head. “I’m hardly a kid anymore! I’m 11 now!” “No, Kit, you’re still a kid.” “Well Dewey is almost 13 like you!” When the sound of the fireworks ended, the three prepared to part ways. Dewey brushed off the mud on Kit’s coat with his gloves and did his best to fix her hair while she bickered more with Olaf on how old someone must be to not be a ‘kid’ anymore. Kit says 11, Olaf says 13, and Dewey thinks to himself that whenever that age may be, they all would remain childish like this forever. ________________________________________________________________ ________________________________________________________________ February 14th rushed though fast, and after school the three once again met up behind the schoolyard. Dewey brought handwritten letters detailing how important the other two were to him, Kit gave them handmade pottery that she had made in art class, and Olaf said “Happy Valentine’s Day” while giving them necklaces crudely made, the pendants being a small crow feather on each. He also wore one and said he had just happened to make extras. This evening was not spent separate, instead all three of them sat in the thawing grass, side by side by side. They were just finishing up a conversation on the best kind of chocolate when Dewey (who has been silently listening) asked a question. “What is it like to have a crush on someone?” “It means you want to get married, right?” Kit said, her childish innocence causing Olaf to snicker. “Nah, It means you want to make out with them.” Olaf leaned back on his hands, obviously trying to appear cool. “Ew-“ Kit scrunched up her nose “That’s gross, don’t people only do that on T.V.?” “No I don’t think so.” Dewey pulled his knees to his chest. “That’s just like…kissing and stuff- right?” “Yeah sure, basically.” “Have- you kissed anyone before Olaf?” Dewey asked with his usual soft tone, but a bit of nervousness peaked though his posture. On the other side of the taller boy, Kit’s eyes grew wide with curiosity. “Oh he probably has! Right? Was it gross?” Kit leaned in close to Olaf, pushing said boy closer to Dewey. The eldest stayed silent, opting to ignore his friend’s questions by standing straight up, causing Kit to crash into Dewey’s legs. “wal ha wahs meen” Which roughly translates too “Well that was mean” when said by a girl who is face first in a pair of knees. Olaf walked away as the other two were left sitting. “Was I too blunt…?” Dewey helped Kit lean back off his legs. “I think he’s just in one of his moods.” Rubbing her nose, she stood, reaching her hand out to help Dewey stand. He took hold without a second thought, and soon the both of them were caught up with Olaf. The three of them went back to talking as though nothing had ever even happened. The next day, in class, Olaf pulled Dewey aside. “Is it Kit?” The teen said. “Maybe, I’m not sure.” The short boy paused and tried for a moment to read Olaf’s expression. “Would you be upset if it was?” “Yes.” ________________________________________________________________ ________________________________________________________________

When Dewey turned 13, Olaf 14, they shared a moment behind one of the rocks during a game of ‘Hide from Kit so she doesn’t make you stick fight with her’. “Why did you-“ “Because I wanted too.” In the moment neither was really sure who said what, or who kissed who. Kit found them, and all three were forced to avoid getting beat with a stick-sword for nearly an hour. ________________________________________________________________ ________________________________________________________________ When Kit turned 12 she told Olaf that she was in love with him. He asked her why she thought so when she was obviously closer to Dewey. She couldn’t answer- and argued that she was equally close with them both. “So why DO you think you love me and not him then?” He had asked. She begun to cry in frustration and left with a “Whatever- Forget it. I guess I don’t know my own feelings.” Olaf thought to himself that she was beginning her ‘I hate everyone and everything’ phase a little sooner than he expected. ________________________________________________________________ ________________________________________________________________ The kids were growing up, Dewey thought to himself, and he saw it in the way Kit hugged his arm whenever she was avoiding whatever harsh words Olaf said. He also saw it in how Olaf refused to let Dewey lean against him anymore. But as the three of them quietly walked to their normal place- he realized that they weren’t growing UP, but APART. The thought made him want to cry. That day Olaf told them that his parent’s were sending him to a boarding school, and that he was leaving right away. Dewey started crying, realizing that there was no way to salvage the relationship that was breaking- He started crying more when Kit let go of his arm, marched over to Olaf, and hugged him for the first time in a month of silence, arms linked around his neck. Dewey watched as Olaf hugged her in return, the image of her small form surrounded by his tall lanky one was out of place in the summer sky. “You can’t go-“ Dewey heard Kit say as he slowly walked over to the pair. “I can’t stay, I’ve tried-“ Dewey reached the couple and hesitated for a moment- watching the two of them embrace in their last ever meeting. He felt like he was intruding- but his urge to say goodbye to Olaf and comfort Kit was too overwhelming. He was not alone in this, for Kit and Olaf both pulled him into their hug before he had a chance to try and worm his way in himself. “I- I really love you guys-“ Kit’s words were laced with sorrow and the sound of cicadas.

“I love you both two-“ Dewey replied, dropping his book to the hard ground as he buried his face into Olaf’s chest and Kit’s hair. “I- I’m going to miss you.” Olaf said to them both. Neither of them brought up how that was the first nice thing Olaf had ever said to either of them in the years of knowing each other, unless you count the hundreds of tears that puddled up on the ground.

________________________________________________________________ ________________________________________________________________ A decade later and some change later, a young woman with red-brown hair stepped into the sunny spot on the soft grass and weeds, the feather necklace being blown by the wind. A young man with a dazzling smile was holding her hand, adorned with a ring, and he, too, modeled a similar necklace. However it was tied around his wrist for he had grown out of it. They wave to a figure appearing from behind the too-small to climb trees, the feathered neck-piece lengthened to fit his adult form. No one ever saw them, no one ever will. It was the perfect spot for exactly 3 old friends to visit after years of absence and talk about never forgotten feelings, muddy coats, growing families, and how to spend the rest of Valentine’s day. They didn’t go though with their plans, and instead rested together in the thawing grass until dusk.

#i didnt edit this so please excuse mistakes #i had to cut out a LOT of the end because i couldnt write it the way i wanted it too #asoue #asoue fanfic #ot3 #kitlafey #kit x olaf x dewey #kit snicket #count olaf #dewey denouement

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poisondog2 · 5 years

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Launchpad: The Mask we Wear- Chapter 2

Ring Ring!...

Ring Ri- Click!

“H-Huh? Yes, hello?”

“Launchpad, finally!” Came the voice of the fowl’s employer.

“Mr. McDee! What can I do for you?”

“The boys are getting out of school soon, so you should start heading out to get them.”

“Oh, right! Of course! I’ll be right over the get them!” He responded, jumping out of his hammock and rushing to take a shower.

“Very good, and I’ll want you to stay when you get to the mansion. We have things to discuss about the next trip we're taking.”

“No problem Mr. McDee!” Was all Launchpad said before ending the call and jumping into the shower. Cleaning off the sweat and irritation from earlier he jumped out and towelled off and grabbed a clean, by his standards, olive coloured collared shirt and yellow tie from his drawer.

Throwing on his clothes, cargos, jacket, and hat in all, before standing in front of the limo and composing himself, “Smile… People trust you when you smile, a smile makes others happy. They make you feel safe,” he finished the mantra he’s told himself many times before as his beak pulled into a “genuine” smile before getting in and starting the car.

The sun was waning in the sky as Launchpad took the route to the triplets’ school like he’s done many times before, parking just outside. Drumming his fingers against the wheel he didn’t have to wait long before the boys rushed out and entered the limo.

“Hey Launchpad!” Came the chorus of voices from the red, blue, and green-clad brothers.

“Heya! How was school today?” He asked, leaning against the window between them.

“Good, Louie almost got us in trouble at lunch,” answered Huey, crossing his arms in a huff.

“I did not! If all I did was sell delicious snacks to our schoolmates.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, you can’t do that!”

The boys devolved into a tussle as Launchpad chucked to himself before he started driving towards the mansion. It was a quick trip to the Manor and during that time Huey, Dewey, and Louie out everything out of their system and were onto other topics as the limo pulled up to their still new home. Once the car was parked, everyone exited only for the boys to be tackled by a Webby shaped bullet, “You’re back!” Webby rambled on with questions and whatnot about the boys’ day and what normal school was like as they entered the Manor, LP tracking behind.

Dropping off their backpacks in their room they all headed into The Study, “Ah lads, Webby, Launchpad, good to see you all. We have much to discuss.”

“Are we going on another adventure Uncle Scrooge?” Dewey asked calmly in voice but bouncing in place.

“Yes Dewey we are,” cheers erupted from the four children, which put a smile on both Scrooge’s and Launchpad’s face, “but it won’t be until next Friday,” the cheers shifted into groans, all except for Webby who was now cheering in anticipation.

“Sorry lads money and education are the most important things, especially to a Duck in this family. Now, we're going to The Tomb of Kar-lek, a tomb never discovered and left to rumours… until now. Aye sent Donald and Launchpad out to gather things for this trip and one of those items were curse shielding amulets,” he handed out the necklaces to the kids, Donald… and Launchpad, to his surprise, “Now it wouldn’t be an adventure without curses and traps and luckily we can handle one of those problems right away.” He held up his own amulet, thin black rope connected to a silver bail and ruby pendant, “As long as the Jewel is intact we're impervious to anything magical that the tomb throws at us, so don’t break’em!”

“Yes Uncle Scrooge,” Came the robotic response from the four children.

“Good, now I don’ know exactly what the tomb had in store for us, so stay close when we go. I’ll give more details when we’re on the way. Any questions?” Everyone was quiet for a moment and right before Scrooge adjourned the meeting Launchpad cleared his throat.

“Um, Mr. McDee sir?”

“Yes, Launchpad, what is it?”

“I think you mishanded these out,” holding up the amulet in his possession, “I know I’m flying the plane, but I don’t think I’ll need if if I’m standing guard.”

“Who said you’re standing guard? We’ll need an extra set of hands, so you’re coming with us into the tomb.”

LP was shocked by this, “W-What?”

“Yes, lad, you’re comin’ along. Beakley would be the one helpin’ us, but she told me that she’s staying.”

The burly maid crossed her arms, glaring at Scrooge, “Someone has to make sure this place is up to standard when you return, lord knows the mansion will fall apart if I’m not here,” the triplets and her granddaughter were laughing at the look of disdain Scrooge threw at Mrs. Beakley.

“Anyway, that’s why we need you Launchpad. I know you’ve come along before, against my wishes at times, so that why I’m officially inviting you along. Think you can handle it?”

Launchpad didn't know what to do… other pull his employer into a bone-crushing hug, “Thank you Mr. McDuck, I promise you won’t regret this!”

“Ack! Ah- Yes Yes Launchpad, that’s fine- N-Now put me down!”

“Oh,” he gently set Scrooge down who started coughing, trying to breath, “heh, sorry about that Mr. McDee,” LP apologized, rubbing his neck in embarrassment.

“Quite right McQuack. Now that I all I wanted to tell you all today, boys I believe you have homework to do,” the triplets muttered in disappointment but otherwise followed Donald out of the study, “and like I said Launchpad I have nothing else happening today so you can go home a rest, but I expect you-“

“Here at 8 sharp, no problem Mr. McDee! I’ll see you tomorrow, bye Mrs. B!”

“Have a nice day Launchpad,” Beakley saluted off as the large duck left the Manor. His drive was partially distracted by the sheer excitement LP had for the upcoming adventure. Scrooge McDuck trusted him as an extra set of hands, as muscle, but anyway that he could help out Launchpad would jump at the opportunity.

He was his driver, after all, his job was to get him and his family places- safely or not was up to debate.

As Launchpad pulled up to his hangar and parked inside he sat in the driver seat for a moment before cheering until his lungs gave out, he was ecstatic. Smiling from cheek to cheek he panned up to see the amulet dangling off the rearview mirror, grabbing it before exiting the limo, “Better this in a safe place,” he said to himself and he stuffed it in one of his cargo pockets.

Only to feel the cold sting of metal grace his feathered hand.

The smile and happiness he built up shattered in an instant as it registered with him exactly what he was carrying. Something that he shouldn’t even have on him.

Letting the necklace go and fishing the other object out he raised his closed fist in front of him, breathing deeply, before opening it to reveal what he already knew…

Brass knuckles.

Only one set, but he recognized the scratches in the metal, the dents that never buffed out, the stains that never really washed out.

It was his original set, the set he hadn’t touched in years. Why were they in his pocket? He didn’t remember grabbing them, so when would he-

And then It clicked. That morning when he was first getting ready: groggy, disassociated, and oblivious. That’s how he woke up.

“I must’ve grabbed them when I was getting ready,” he said to no one in particular, rolling the knuckles in his palm. The cold, unforgiving metal felt so familiar to him, but at the same to feeling so alien, “Never again.”

Rushing up the stairs to his loft he went over to his dresser, pulled out a medium sized ammo box from the third drawer, and unlocked it with the key he normally kept stored in one of the inner pockets of his flight jacket. Unlocking the box revealed a plethora of assorted items he dare not touch again, dropping in the brass knuckles with a resounding Clack! When it landed.

Locking the box up tight he stored it away and placed the key where it always laid. After storing the box away he felt… more at ease. He didn’t feel comfortable when it was out and even more so when it was open.

Like digging away at an old wound.

His eye began to darken, only to be stopped by the shine of glass only s few feet away. He glanced over at the picture frame he kept above his hammock, and as he came closer the image came into focus, it was of his family: Ripcord, his father, who was a brick wall of a man with a chin to boot; Birdie, his mother, who despite her smaller size was feisty and passionate; Loopy, his sister, who had frizzy blond hair and a nonchalant attitude; and Launchpad, easily the smallest as it was an old picture. He was wearing an old leather flight helmet and goggles and cream scarf that belonged to his father when he was younger, wearing the biggest smile you had ever seen.

It was the last time his family was ever really happy.

The picture never failed to bring a smile to his face… but never failed to ruin it when he glared at the torn off section of said picture.

The picture was incomplete, but it didn’t matter to Launchpad as the people in the picture were who he considered family and that’s all that mattered. His smile was soon restored when he panned over to see the picture next to it: a complete photo of everyone at McDuck Manor, including him. A newer addition to his home, but nonetheless important.

After reminiscing for a bit the large fowl soon realized that he had a few hours to kill before he headed off to bed, normally returning home around 7- or if an adventure took a while longer a little later. So after changing into some pj’s he headed downstairs and posted up on his couch and turned on the t.v., the channel he was on was running a marathon of his favourite superhero Darkwing Duck. There was no way he was gonna miss this!

_____

As night fell overhead the city of Duckburg, and most were turning in for the day, there was still one duck that stood wide awake.

It had been many years since he set his eyes upon the city or the free outside for that matter, but even so, he felt right at home.

The cold sea breeze blessed his feathers, standing above what would soon be his… all he had to do was find one duck and his plans could begin. It had been many years since he sine the duck but had no doubt he would run into them eventually.

If not… then he would just have to tear the city apart until he found what he wanted, “Hello Duckburg… I’m back! And I’m excited to see what you have in store for me, after all,” the mysterious duck reached into his pocket, pulling out a set of broken aviator goggles, “I already got what I wanted out of St. Canard, I just need the final piece.”

#launchpad mcquack #donald duck #donpad #Huey Dewey and Louie #Webby Vanderquack #scrooge mcduck #mrs beakley #fanfic #fanfiction #ducktales #Launchpad: The Mask we Wear

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itsthegameilike · 7 years

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Just some fic recs...

I’ve read a lot of really good fic this year and I just thought the best of the best deserved some recognition. I tried to weed out the super popular fics, but some still show up because I love them that much. Also, the ships are numerous and varied.

Running on Air--eleventy7; Drarry Draco Malfoy has been missing for three years. Harry is assigned the cold case and finds himself slowly falling in love with the memories he collects. *I would murder people to protect this fic. It’s beautifully written, well-plotted, original, and it reuses certain sentences, making them more poignant the later in the story they’re used. Like, fuck me up*

the ghost of you--kissmesexybatman; Klance When Keith goes missing without a trace, all his family and friends are able to do is move on with their lives. When he shows back up after a year, they have to convince him they still want him back. *I may be slightly biased because the coolest person in the world wrote this, but let me tell you, it’s emotionally heartwrenching, wonderfully written, and gives you a happy ending without sacrificing the needs of the characters*

My soul is an empty carousel at sunset.--dawnstruck; Otayuri Yuri grows up and grows older and grows into himself. Otabek helps. It just takes a while to get there. *I’m demi and this fic described exactly what that experience has been like for me, as it features a demi!Yuri. Beyond that, it was sweet and genuine and I adored it*

Dewey Despicable--ghostystarr; Klance "To the toddler who left coffee stains all over the ancient myth books – have you ever heard of these fantastic things called lids? You can put them on all sorts of things; cups, Tupperware, a coffin. Which is exactly what I’ll be shutting you in if you desecrate my thesis paper’s primary sources again." *This one is just hilarious and sweet and adorable and it made me smile for hours*

tears and vines--adamganseys; Pynch The turn for Monmouth is about to come up when Adam speaks again. “Do you want me to drop you at Monmouth?” There’s a note of reluctance in Adam’s voice, and that’s when he realizes how very much he wants Ronan to come to his apartment with him, how much he needs his comforting presence after what just happened.

Ronan studies him in that intense way of his before replying, “I’d rather just chill at St. Agnes a bit, if that’s cool with you.”

(Or, my response to the prompt things you said when you were crying, where Ronan comes to Adam's apartment with him after Robert Parrish's trial) *A nice, slight deviation from canon fic that really utilizes Adam’s connection to Cabeswater in the best possible way. Plus, Ronan is excellent in this*

Mental--sara_holmes; Drarry Harry has had quite enough of sharing his mind with someone else, thankyouverymuch. A miscast Legilimecy spell says otherwise. *This is one probably everyone has read, but if you haven’t, fucking do it. It’s sweet, well-written, and Draco’s characterization is amazing. Definitely one of the favorite ones I have*

Nerve Endings--Phyona; Viktuuri When Yuuri moves in with Victor in St. Petersburg, they have to work through Yuuri's anxiety and Victor's secrets to find their balance. *Again, probably everyone has read this, but jesus christ if you haven’t, it’s a must. Yuuri is done wonderfully, especially his anxiety, and the relationship is sweet and caring and perfect*

Smoke and Mirrors--Footloose; Merthur Merlin's magic has been revealed, and it has all gone wrong. Arthur might hunt him, he might hate him, but Merlin can't help but protect him from afar. *It’s angsty as shit and frankly, does not get any less angsty as it goes, but it deals well with the magic reveal and the writing is hauntingly lovely*

The Lullaby of Nifflish Erupments--sheafrotherdon; Wolfstar Sirius Black is a Boy With Ideas. Remus Lupin is the target of his cunning plan. James merely loses his underpants. *This is short and sweet and hilarious and Sirius is just so Sirius*

A Creature Void of Form--ignipes; Wolfstar Christmas, 1994. Two men, a cave, a hippogriff, some blankets, a hot meal, a blizzard, a bottle of vino rosso, and a conversation. *Again, kind of super angsty, but it never fails to make me feel warm inside by the end. There’s just something about the devotion against all odds in this one*

Play Your Cards Right--merlywhirls; Solangelo Will and Nico meet through a Mythomagic forum board and begin texting, and begin to own themselves. *It’s a truly delightful texting fic. This author is so goddamn good at them. It’s pretty short and funny and definitely romantic*

Étude--xlydiadeetz; Lamen “The heart has a melody. Once you discover it, there’s no going back.”

Present day, Auguste is dead. The Golden Pianist is gone, and Laurent finds himself completely alone in the world. Haunted by the ghost of the promise he never accomplished, he goes through the stages of grief as he remembers his brother and deals with the return of a high school crush who makes him start to believe once again in the beauty of music. *Yet again, I’m probably a little biased, but this fic has heart. It’s painful a lot of the time, harsh mistakes are made by the characters, but it doesn’t take away from how human they are and how much they all love each other*

When There’s Moonlight, I See Your Eyes.--Kali Cephirot; Noah and Brian There is, hidden in the hatch where Noah existed for the past two years, even deeper than that, the smallest, tiniest, brightest little hope that likes to go maybemaybemaybe at him if he thinks too hard about this. *The only fic I’ve read--admittedly there aren’t many for I’ll Give You The Sun--where Noah is captured perfectly and it definitely pays off. This fic is lovely*

Adunatio--Vixenette; Wolfstar A potion accident has unexpected consequences *I think you know what the potion does, but FUCKING READ IT. That’s all I’ve got*

Because I Cared--jostenminyard; Andriel Andreil prompt: A Raven sneaks a dashboard lighter on to the court and Neil gets hurt and has a panic attack. *Because everyone has read Lessons in Cartography and I haven’t read nearly enough fic for these two. This one is super good, however short. It’s just so them*

Midnight Doesn’t Last Forever--ghostystarr; Solangelo "So come and watch the sunset with me?" Solangelo. *This is reread worthy. Fluffy and fun and it captures the personalities of Will and Nico so perfectly and makes me love them like ten times more than I already did*

Sansûkh--determamfidd; multi The battle was over, and Thorin Oakenshield awoke, naked and shivering, in the Halls of his Ancestors.

The novelty of being dead fades quickly, and watching over his companions soon fills him with grief and guilt. Oddly, a faint flicker of hope arises in the form of his youngest kinsman, a Dwarf of Durin's line with bright red hair.

(Follows the story of the War of the Ring).

(Bagginshield, Gimli/Legolas) In which recovery takes time, the dead members of the Company take to watching Gimli as though he’s a soap opera, the living struggle with being left behind, Legolas is confused, Khuzdul is abused, and Thorin is four feet and ten inches of guilt and anger. *Listen, so many people have read this, but I had to. It’s a must read, even if you aren’t a Lord of the Rings person. I’m telling you. You won’t regret it for a second*

Time Isn’t Real (but you’re a constant)--SpiritsFlame; Pynch "Time is what prevents everything from happening at once." - Albert Einstein.

Adam wakes up in the future, learns a few things about himself, about time, and about his priorities. But mostly he just wishes that Time was doing it's job better. *A relatively well known fic, but it’s my favorite pynch fic by far. There’s just something about younger Ronan and older Adam interacting. Well, and the other way too. The older versions are so beautiful and in character, but they’ve also grown and it’s just so rewarding ughhhh*

Text Talk--merlywhirls; Wolfstar Sirius is in boarding school, Remus is in hospital, and they don't know each other until Sirius texts the wrong number. *And the holy grail. I have read this fic like twelve times. I don’t even care if you like Remus or Sirius or if you don’t read texting fics or you don’t like harry potter, you have to read this. It’s my life. It is my comfort food*

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enkisstories · 5 years

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The android cemetery (Ch. 23)

The first thing one had to take care of when entering the Reed apartment was not to bump into the stairs leading upwards. The second was to dodge the cats that were sitting on the staircase and clawing playfully towards the interesting hats and hairs that came within their reach. Afterwards everything else was a trifle.

The floor/downstairs living room combination was L-shaped. To the left the smaller arm contained a lounge chair, various installations for the cats to climb on and a bookcase. Straight forward the longer arm was dominated by a long sofa, a wall-mounted TV and the usual household electronics. The left wall was completely made of reinforced glass. It offered an amazing look out at balcony and over Detroit. At the far end of this room a door led to the kitchen.

Thor and Loki didn’t leave their vantage points on the stairway when the bipeds took seats. Being the smallest of the adults Gavin sat down on the sofa’s back, feet on the seating. Daniel sat down to his right. Emma, after a moment of hesitation, sat down on the sofa, too. Separated from Daniel only by Gavin’s dangling feet she grabbed the sofa’s edge with both hands and stared down as if she was utterly enraptured by the floor’s pattern. Jason circled the sofa and ended up standing to Emma’s left, looking down at the PL600 in a mix of fascination and suspicion. Evelyn grabbed a book from the bookcase and curled up with it in the lounge chair that almost swallowed her. The child android grinned, because she was staying up past bedtime tonight and nobody seemed to mind. Finally Connor chose the lowest stair to sit on. Ever since picking up a fish on the verge of suffocating had set him on the path of increasing program instability, the android liked animals. Surrounding himself with pets helped him focus on being a person instead of a function. Hoping that the cats would eventually come down for cuddles while serious matters were underfoot was immensely childish, that much Connor realized himself. But to hell with maturity! The others in this room didn’t have deviancy, they didn’t know how taxing living with a mental illness was! Okay, Daniel had deviancy, too, but he had been a nutcase to begin with and given in to their condition. Therefore Daniel’s opinion on the handicap didn’t count in Connor’s book.

“How did you find me that fast?” Emma asked the apartment floor, but Jason understood that he was being addressed. He started to explain, only to get cut short by Gavin: “Ever wondered how the damn automated cars decide who to run over? Well, for one, the valuable kids like you get tagged with subdermal implants.”

Jason saw the policeman’s nose twitch while he said that. An old scar ran across the bridge. Maybe there was a connection, or maybe not. This wasn’t the time to be nosy, because Emma exclaimed: “I thought the tags were only for opening our lockers at school and for showing when we are not in the classroom!” The idea of her position getting tracked, even if it was for her wellbeing only, didn’t sit well with the girl. “I didn’t know they were active all around the clock! As if we were androids… or criminals…”

Daniel, who was both, weakly supplied that the tag could save Emma’s life one day. If she ever got lost or taken away, the police would find her and return her to her mother.

The child didn’t respond. She didn’t even look at the android whom she had known as a friend under two different names now. What was wrong with her, Emma wondered? Had she not set out tonight to re-activate her caretaker? To smuggle him out of the police station and set him free? Well, now she had confirmation that Daniel had lived as free as possible for the last one and a half year. He was happy, he was friendly towards the child and rude to everyone Emma disliked. So why did she feel the urge to run away and hide?

“And you were…?” Connor spoke up, nodding in Boyfriend Jason’s direction. In his back the cats were shifting uneasily, now that the big plastic thing had started moving, even if had been on the spot only and only so subtly.

“Jason Graff”, the man answered. “I am Emma’s mother’s new partner.”

“Graff… that name sounds familiar”, Gavin mused. “I think Danny cursed you two nights ago!”

Connor quickly consulted the internet. A number of entries and photographs came up. The third one was matching Boyfriend Jason and Connor announced that this man was the head of CyberLife’s humanization department.

“Are you the guy who implemented flash grenade sensitivity in household android eyes?” Daniel inquired.

“Among other things, yes”, Jason admitted. “Not that it would impede your functions in any way. Flash sensitivity doesn’t apply to just brightly lit rooms. But you’ll squint a little during a thunderstorm, that kind of endearing thing.”

“Yeah, thanks, we got almost taken apart by a trash golem because of that!” Daniel replied. “Endearing? More like endangering!”

“Are you also responsible for my voice?” Connor asked, this being the second thing right after deviance that made his life unreasonably difficult. Gavin, probably ranking third on the list (although Connor wouldn’t admit that anytime soon in order not to give the detective that satisfaction), laughed out loud!

“Don’t get me wrong, Mr. Graff, I do not think there’s something wrong with it”, Connor quickly added. “It’s just…”

“No, no that wasn’t me”, Jason said quickly. “I was down with the flu and when I returned to work, the damage had already been done.”

“The “damage”…” Connor replied. The android shook his head. “Okay, new rule”, he announced then. “Not only are you three including Tina forbidden to mention my Daniel-encounter ever again, the same goes for my voice!”

“Not fair!” Gavin countered, still laughing. “You get to use it on us every day!”

“Yes!” Daniel chimed in. He noticed that both Jason and Emma were smiling now and that the girl had let go of the sofa she had been clinging to like to a lifeline. That Connor! Aptly nicknamed The Negotiator, the RK800 certainly knew how to defuse a tense situation and wasn’t afraid to play up his dorky side to achieve his goal. “Yes, Con’”, Daniel repeated, “you cannot just ask that of us without offering something in return!”

“Your bones”, Connor chirped, playing up his voice’s quirk on purpose. “Intact.”

A playfully delivered threat, but a threat nonetheless. Or a warning, rather.

The android wasn’t prepared for the reaction that prompted from Jason:

“Hell, yes, Connor, that’s our adaptive routine in action! Exactly as we had envisioned you! Oh my god, I’m so proud…”

Connor looked up, his expression one of amazement not unlike the day he had watched Dewey resume circling the fish tank in the Phillips residence. None of his handlers at CyberLife had ever said they were proud of him before. Not of his successes and least of all of Connor’s personality. Perhaps the prototype had been below their notice, his feelings irrelevant to even those who believed he had some. But there was also the possibility that he had never done anything to make them proud. Not Portia Colch, who always had preferred Brandon over Connor, not Amanda, who was just a simulation and least of all Elijah Kamski, who deemed himself so far above the normal frame of reference that Connor could have sworn to have dealt with Gavin Reed instead.

A sincere smile that carried a hint of relief crossed the android’s face.

“Thank you, Mr. Graff!”

“…of my team’s work”, Jason had wanted to finish, but seeing Connor like that made him reconsider and he let the rest of the sentence hanging in the air.

Thor, too, was almost hanging in the air. The black cat was stretching his head through the railing, his gaze fixed on Mama Gavin and especially on the sofa’s underside. But the only path to that safe space was blocked by the plastic biped. Thor’s tail twitched left and right, up and down... Meanwhile Loki felt the need to add some scratch marks to the wallpaper, just in case there was any question about who owned this place.

“We call the RK800s Witchers, internally”, Jason went on. Here he was, totally lost at the situation, but being able to talk about something he understood, something that was familiar. Not that Jason’s grasp on android lore would have mattered to any of the assembled, but chatting them up like that might at least serve to break the ice before tackling the real questions of this night.

“…because of the prototype. It helped ending the android crisis of November ’38.”

“Yes, that it did”, Connor whispered and away went his smile.

“I’m actually very happy with their design!” Jason claimed.

“Uh-huh…” Daniel and Gavin went simultaneously. It didn’t do anything to stop Jason from gushing about his team’s creation:

“The thing about the Witchers is, when out of uniform they look absolutely adorable! Like a young adult fresh out of college. The B-series even more so than the Connors, they can pass as freshmen.”

“It fucking worked”, Gavin remarked.

“What worked?”

“They both got adopted”, Daniel explained. “Only Brandon’s still in denial about it. But if he is supposed to be an older teen, then this reaction is only natural.”

“That’s not what we intended”, Jason admitted. “Fascinating, though.”

Emma raised her head. Her confidence restored by the shared laughter just now the girl asked Jason, and she sounded as innocent as Connor, when she did so: “Does mom know that you design androids for a living?”

Daniel winced. That wasn’t just confidence, that was a declaration of war! Ever since he… ever since the… ever since august 2038 Caroline Phillips didn’t allow androids of any kind in her apartment. Or near her precious daughter, if she could help it. The therapy sessions had been one of the rare exceptions, because the slow exposure to Dean had unquestionably helped Emma overcome her experience with Daniel. But other than that… Caroline paid a maid service that exclusively employed humans. She specified that she wanted a human to deliver her pizza or would fetch it in person from the store. And she had transferred Emma to another school, one that only had a few android janitors and cafeteria workers, but a full staff of human teachers. The widow wasn’t confrontational towards androids, she just did her best to ignore them. Caroline learning that her love interest was actively participating in filling the world with more of the dangerous machines, even made them likeable, would probably spell the end of the relationship.

“I didn’t have the courage to tell her yet”, Jason confessed. He said nothing else, only his eyes were silently pleading.

#non sims #sims4 dbh partfive #detroit become human #dbh #sims4danielgavin

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gullhryndr-blog · 6 years

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Vapidity, and the Man in the Mirror.

Vapidity, and the Man in the Glass Facebook is a perfect example of the interpersonal dysfunction that riddles and shapes our society today. We crave to be realized, to be valued, to have others assign us importance; to be important. Quoting Dr. John Dewey, American philosopher, "the deepest urge in human nature is the desire to be important". We are all driven by this, and in my opinion, many cases of mental illness cropping up can be driven by this desire not being fulfilled. The inherent danger in this desire is that the point when it is "fulfilled" is relative to, and dictated by, the individual. People don't feel important, or loved, or valued until they are valued by the 'right' person. I once heard someone say that one of the coolest things about them was the amount of followers (something to the tune of 20,000 if I remember correctly) they gained on Twitter after being followed by some pop star. This 'star' deemed this person "worthy" of a follow, and in turn, people also assigned this person importance. I would imagine that the number of followers does not matter. They could have gotten an extra ten or one hundred and still deemed it worthy evidence of their new importance and popularity. The main point here is that one person, a celebrity, through fleeting interaction and less than 140 keystrokes, and ended up making this person feel important when hundreds of thousands of others have failed to through the same exact method. When we are craving the desire to feel important, to feel validated, we cannot abandon it; much like thirst or hunger. We will naturally become more and more desperate to receive this acknowledgement. This often manifests in the break down and metabolization of complex social interaction into a raw, simple form, such as the excessive sharing of personal opinions on Facebook. In doing this, in acting this way, we degrade ourselves. We fall from greatness. It's ego-masturbation. In order to find true happiness and contentment in the quest to become important, we must take three steps: 1. Commit healthy social interaction 2. Learn to see the innate value in others 3. And most importantly, learn to see ourselves as truly important. 1. Commit healthy social interaction. Satisfaction is what drives our ego; we are, by nature, hedonists. We seek an exodus from the land of pain into the land of pleasure. The quest for the satisfaction drawn from a sense of importance can be compared to the quest for sexual satisfaction. Sure, if you want it, you can just pull up the internet and satisfy yourself. But this cheap, low-effort method will leave you craving again just minutes later. The Id-level appreciation for hard work that we have as humans must be harmonized and intertwined with our drive for satisfaction. Instead of spending friday night masturbating in a computer-screen lit corner of a human nest in your mother's house, go out and find a man/woman to gain this satisfaction with. It is the same with the need for importance; instead of being one of hundreds of comments in a Twitch stream on an un-'liked'post on facebook, go out and be with your friends. Go explore. Go drinking. Go for a drive. Work on a car. Work out together. Fight eachother. Or even go to a coffee shop and talk some shit. Have healthy social interaction. One genuine laugh from someone else at your joke will do a million times more for your drive to feel important than any amount of 'likes' on Facebook. 2. Learn to see the innate value in others It's always neat to get to meet someone you admire or see as important. But setting that as your baseline for all social interaction will leave you feeling empty and vapid. You must learn to value what "the common folk" have to say. Now, I'm certainly not advocating for some kind of "love everyone, everyone is special" doctrine; because that's simply not the case. You and I both know this. There are people whose opinions you don't, and couldn't, care to give a damn about. But, your friends, your coworkers, those you interact with every day have an impact on your life. Take a moment to think about how you would feel if your partner didn't grumbled a greeting to you or responded with "oh" after telling them about your day. Think about how you would feel if the cashier at the deli blew you off instead of simply asking how your day is going. The neglect of the 'normal' is a huge culprit in the degradation of many people's sense of importance. EDIT: To build off this point, the importance of having a tightly-knit group of people, a friend group, club, band, tribe, can be key. Only seeking the approval of yourself and a small group of individuals whom you respect and hold highly can serve well on two fronts: their opinions will hold more weight due to the respect you have for them; and if they disapprove, you will have the rare opportunity to take their advice to heart, being able to trust that it is disapproval and critique from a place of respect rather than that of a passer-by naysayer. This will charge you with an external force to progress to an achievable and reflected level. This will allow you to build stronger bonds with those subjecting themselves to the same ordeal as you. 3. Learn to see ourselves as truly important. "When you get what you want in your struggle for self And the world makes you king for a day Just go to the mirror and look at yourself And see what that man has to say." -Peter Dale Wimbrow, Sr. All of the praise from the top musicians, athletes, politicians, lovers and millionaires will equal nothing if you see filth staring back at yourself in the mirror after you come home. In the end, we must appreciate ourselves. In the end, we are the judges of our own value. This is more complicated than "just choosing to like yourself"; we all know that's bullshit spewed by those who haven't had to take their own advice. This can be achieved by setting and achieving goals that we value. I have always been smaller. I was one of the smallest kids in my class. Before I went through some personal life and career changes, I stood at 5'9", 135lbs. I was never weak, but I looked it; and heard it from many people. The loudest voice of negativity was my own. After spending many of my teenage years trying to find other ways to satisfy myself, to negate the ill-feelings when I caught myself in the mirror, I finally realized; the only way to deal with is to deal with it, head-on. Now I've gained an inch in height and 30 pounds in mass. Every time I walk into the gym, I hit a new PR. I currently have my name on the wall of fame at my local gym- twice. But, bounds more important than the previous accomplishments- I've had a shift in thinking. Instead of seeing a stringbean frame that radiated insecurity, weakness, and laziness, I now see a body, an organic machine that is being added to and improved constantly. I may not see Conan staring back at me; but I do see something that I've taken a loving interest in, something that I am proud of. I once read, "I am not fat, I am a human. I am John. I don't hate my body, I love my body; that's why I go to the gym". This has had a profound effect on my mental process; it so simply and elegantly outlines the concepts of self-appreciation and working within your means, within reality. We must strive to come to an understanding of ourselves and of our suffering. We must then act, in all ways available, to end this suffering within us in order to attain a higher mentality, and, by virtue of this, a higher overall state of existence. We must recognize and accept the importance and validity of putting in the time and effort to do something right, in order to get the right result. "Good work ain't cheap, and cheap work ain't good".

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