You never could’ve expected a celebration to go so, so wrong. The land was foreign, too warm compared to the Cold Lands, and filled with horrible people. Horrible people that planned to sell you to the highest bidder — who, as you’d come to learn, was the ruler of the stupid seaside city. She was a beautiful empress, the high priestess and war general her consorts and evidently, your new masters. Human beings shouldn’t be given as gifts, much less called ‘pets’, and you found the ship that was your life sinking so much faster than you ever could’ve expected.
rating: M | 18+ chapters: at least 7, not sure chapter: 2/? relationship: dark!carol danvers x dark!natasha romanoff x dark!valkyrie x reader warnings: noncon&dubdon, pet play, degradation&humiliation, kidnapping, slavery, detailed warnings to be included per chapter; read more and CTRL+F to search ‘content warnings’ to skip to the more detailed tags at the bottom of the chapter.
note: hey guys, this story was inspired by @scarlettwlw who helped me come up with the idea! i’m technically back from hiatus. oh and im not doing tag lists anymore, if you want to be alerted when i post a fic you can follow me over on a03, same handle. enjoy!
It was the resolve in her eyes that made Carol wary. She wasn’t sure if Natasha recognized it or not, wasn’t sure if Natasha had ever felt the same kind of resignation and grit their kitten had settled into. Carol and Val had courted the redheaded priestess in the form of constant military barrages on her home city until their council had relented and traded the woman for peace, and Natasha’s reaction had been more along the lines of begrudging capitulation. She was fully aware the blonde and her General would’ve rained Hell on her home for as long as it took, would’ve murdered hundreds, and conceded despite her irritation.
You never could’ve expected a celebration to go so, so wrong. The land was foreign, too warm compared to the Cold Lands, and filled with horrible people. Horrible people that planned to sell you to the highest bidder — who, as you’d come to learn, was the ruler of the stupid seaside city. She was a beautiful empress, the high priestess and war general her consorts and evidently, your new masters. Human beings shouldn’t be given as gifts, much less called ‘pets’, and you found the ship that was your life sinking so much faster than you ever could’ve expected.
rating: M | 18+ chapters: at least 7, not sure chapter: 2/? relationship: dark!carol danvers x dark!natasha romanoff x dark!valkyrie x reader warnings: noncon&dubdon, pet play, degradation&humiliation, kidnapping, slavery, detailed warnings to be included per chapter; read more and CTRL+F to search ‘content warnings’ to skip to the more detailed tags at the bottom of the chapter.
note: hey guys, this story was inspired by @scarlettwlw who helped me come up with the idea! i’m technically back from hiatus. oh and im not doing tag lists anymore, if you want to be alerted when i post a fic you can follow me over on a03, same handle. enjoy!
It was the resolve in her eyes that made Carol wary. She wasn’t sure if Natasha recognized it or not, wasn’t sure if Natasha had ever felt the same kind of resignation and grit their kitten had settled into. Carol and Val had courted the redheaded priestess in the form of constant military barrages on her home city until their council had relented and traded the woman for peace, and Natasha’s reaction had been more along the lines of begrudging capitulation. She was fully aware the blonde and her General would’ve rained Hell on her home for as long as it took, would’ve murdered hundreds, and conceded despite her irritation.
You never could’ve expected a celebration to go so, so wrong. The land was foreign, too warm compared to the Cold Lands, and filled with horrible people. Horrible people that planned to sell you to the highest bidder — who, as you’d come to learn, was the ruler of the stupid seaside city. She was a beautiful empress, the high priestess and war general her consorts and evidently, your new masters. Human beings shouldn’t be given as gifts, much less called ‘pets’, and you found the ship that was your life sinking so much faster than you ever could’ve expected.
rating: M | 18+ chapters: at least 7, not sure chapter: 2/? relationship: dark!carol danvers x dark!natasha romanoff x dark!valkyrie x reader warnings: noncon&dubdon, pet play, degradation&humiliation, kidnapping, slavery, detailed warnings to be included per chapter; read more and CTRL+F to search ‘content warnings’ to skip to the more detailed tags at the bottom of the chapter.
note: hey guys, this story was inspired by @scarlettwlw who helped me come up with the idea! i’m technically back from hiatus. oh and im not doing tag lists anymore, if you want to be alerted when i post a fic you can follow me over on a03, same handle. enjoy!
It was the resolve in her eyes that made Carol wary. She wasn’t sure if Natasha recognized it or not, wasn’t sure if Natasha had ever felt the same kind of resignation and grit their kitten had settled into. Carol and Val had courted the redheaded priestess in the form of constant military barrages on her home city until their council had relented and traded the woman for peace, and Natasha’s reaction had been more along the lines of begrudging capitulation. She was fully aware the blonde and her General would’ve rained Hell on her home for as long as it took, would’ve murdered hundreds, and conceded despite her irritation.
Her full submission had been easy to gain— the Goddesses Natasha was devoted to were those of pleasure and riches, and they could provide those in spades, could easily prove themselves worthy of the priestess. They’d fucked the pretty redhead six ways to Sunday every day for weeks,offered her gifts that became more and more lavish as time went on. Natasha fell in line like a dream, taking on the role of Empress’s Consort with an almost uncanny skill.
Their kitten was several years younger than Natasha had been and yet somehow held herself with battle hardened fortitude despite her immaturity. She wasn’t acquiescent, she was enduring.There was a strength of will about her person, a disquieting sort of resilience that implied patience and tolerance and biding.
Those eyes flicked down to her injured leg, bound in sturdy bandages that would be traded for a splint in several days, and the nerve in her eyes only hardened. It was a break, or a fracture at the least, and she wouldn’t be going anywhere fast for the foreseeable future. Carol was somewhat surprised at the woman’s state—covered in bruises and lash marks and sporting a blackened, half closed eye, she looked nigh unsellable when you considered the state of her leg. The slavers must’ve been banking on how fucking lovely she was to drive her selling price up despite her deplorable state of health.
Washed and dried, the war paint gone from her face, she looked like a broken doll sitting in the middle of the bedroom. The state of her form had both herself and Natasha hesitating, if only slightly—fucking her into submission could potentially cause damage considering her already fragile state. There would need to be another method in bringing about her submission, if only for the next few weeks while she healed.
“Kitten’s more beat up than I anticipated,” Natasha voiced her thoughts with a small, considering hum. “Couldn’t see the bruises under the blood and powder back in the plaza. And with that ankle, she won’t be able to walk for months.”
“No, she certainly won’t,” Carol’s fingers tapped idly over her lower lip, the gears in her head beginning to turn in thought. “And she doesn’t speak our language, you’ll be the only one who can understand her.”
Those from the Cold Lands were notoriously private and they didn’t do business with outsiders. They were entirely independent, minus the raiding, and Carol just knewthey must’ve had more resources than they knew what to do with (personally, she also believed they had more warships than they knew what to do with, hence the constant fucking raiding). For them to share their language was as uncommon as them trading and the only reason Natasha could understand and speak it was because her Goddesses wanted her to.
“I can teach her,” Nat walked a circle around the sitting girl, smiling when she tensed at the predatory action.
But Carol’s brain had finally churned out an answer and she felt a slow smile cross her lips. “No, I don’t think she needs to learn. Kittens only need commands, after all.”
A light went on in the redhead’s eyes and Carol immediately held up a silencing hand. “Be a good girl and run down to the market, grab everything we’ll need. In the meantime, I’m going to start with some… simplecommands before Val gets home.”
“But—”
“Are you arguing with me, darling?” Blue eyes flickered over the redhead’s pale face, teeth flashing intimidatingly. “I need to work on training our pet, but I can take the time for a quick punishment if you want to push me.”
Nat shook her head immediately and Carol could see the way her pretty thighs pressed together under the shifting fabric of her skirt, instinctively trying to protect her delicate cunt from the threat of one of the blonde’s punishments.The redhead was quick to turn tail and run, figuratively speaking, only throwing a quick, baleful glance over her shoulder at the woman on the floor.
“Now, let’s see how fast you learn, precious,” the blonde cooed, watching Kitten tense as the attention locked on her gained several degrees of heat, and patted her thigh. “Come.”
The young woman obviously didn’t understand, a confused glance passing from the blonde’s hand to her face and back again. Carol cleared her throat and patted her thigh again, pointing at the floor in front of her feet for good measure.
“Come, Kitten.”
Still she didn’t move and Carol’s smile, already filled with teeth, became more sinister. It was exactly what she was expecting and definitely what she hoped for. The blonde walked forward, not giving their kitten time to retreat, and latched a hand around her throat. Immediately the young woman’s hands came up to ring hers and Carol was almost startled by the strength of her grasp—not strong enough to remove the hands on her neck, fortunately, but stronger than expected.
“You’re a dumb little cunt, aren’t you?” The tone she used transcended languages, so condescending that the girl on the floor shrunk back as much as she was able even as Carol shook her by the throat. “Let’s try this again.”
Carol let go abruptly enough that their kitten was disoriented and lost balance, nearly hitting the floor while the blonde took several measured steps backward and pointed at the floor in front of her again. “Come, Kitten.”
She looked around desperately this time, eyes locking on her injured leg for several seconds, flashing to the nearby furniture before she began trying to push herself to her feet from her position on her hip. The blonde groaned in disgust and immediately shoved her back onto the ground. The younger woman had to brace herself on both hands to avoid a second black eye.
“So fucking dumb,” Carol grabbed the back of her neck and forced her forehead to the ground, her lower body shifting until her bruised knees pressed into the mosaiced floor. “A kitten who needs to be taught how to walk? Stupid little pussy.”
With their kitten on her knees, face pressed against the floor, Carol took advantage of her unprotected ass and thighs. Wary of the already present bruises, the blonde rained hits down across the delicate flesh until half suffocated cries began to escape and the girl tried to squirm away, pretty legs parting as she tried to gain traction. The blonde used the shift to her advantage, laying open handed slaps over her exposed asshole and pussy.
“Now, this is how a kitten crawls,” Carol shoved three fingers deep into the young woman’s cunt, eliciting a high-pitched cry as she tried to press her thighs together to prevent further intrusion. Blue eyes lit with excitement and she lifted their kitten with the hand on the back of her neck, bringing the young woman back to her hands and knees. “Come.”
She tugged on their kitten’s neck, shoving her fingers to the hilt in her pussy to jolt her forward. The blonde continued, forcing the young woman to crawl forward several paces before she removed both hands and stood back. The kitten was teary eyed from the rough treatment, pretty face twisted with fear and humiliation that practically flooded the blonde’s cunt with desire.
“Come, kitten,” she pointed to the floor in front of her feet once more and immediately the young woman crawled on her hands and knees until her body occupied the correct space. “Good girl, kitten!”
Carol smiled at the way the young woman’s face twisted at the praise,looking disgusted and shamed. The resolve in her eyes was holding strong, resilient despite her mortification and Carol was almost proud of the kitten. The blonde continued moving away and forcing the girl to crawl to her several more times, until she was sure their kitten was keeping her injured leg raised properly.
“It’s not so much that you need to learn to come,” Carol enjoyed the small hint of frustration that showed on her face as the blonde continued to speak, the words meaning absolutely nothing. “But you need to learn that from now on you crawl because you’re just a little kitten. Just a little pussy,you understand? A pretty little pussy that belongsto us.”
Their kitten’s lower lip trembled just slightly as Carol moved towards the window, once again not understanding the words but easily able to read the tone.It was salacious and threatening and uncompromising; it was filled with promise. The blonde’s smile sharpened again as she lifted one leg and set it on the trunk beside her, shifting the airy layers of her dress until her wet cunt was visible.
“Come.”
With the intent so clear, their kitten was practically paralyzed with indecision and Carol could see it in her face; the determination to endure was at war with crippling humiliation and the need to fight back. Her lips twisted, eyebrows furrowing in frustration and helplessness. It was precious.
“Do you really want to see what happens when you disobey?” The blonde hummed derisively before gesturing the young woman forward again, generously giving her a second chance. “Come.”
Carol gave her several seconds before clicking her tongue and advancing forward, fast enough that the other woman couldn’t scramble back. She had their kitten prone on her back in a blink, whining in pain as her injured leg was jostled in the process—the blonde would have it reset before she allowed their pet to act out.
“Let’s get all those pesky thoughts out of your silly brain, Kitten,” she purred, smile salacious and frightening as she balanced on her knees over the other woman’s face. “You don’t make decisions, you follow fucking orders.”
A pleasured sigh escaped her as she lowered herself onto their kitten’s face, clit rubbing over the nip of her nose while her wet cunt settled over her mouth. Almost immediately the younger woman was kicking out with her good leg, arms wrapping around Carol’s thighs in an attempt to yank her away. The blonde’s head fell back, the desperate, minute shifts of their kitten’s head was rubbing just the right way in combination with the brutal grind of her hips. Her panic made her short of breath, she needed air.
Surprise had Carol’s eyes popping open, not that she’d realized she closed them, when their kitten actually managed to drag her hips back enough that she could catch several gasping breaths. Her lips and chin were dripping with the blonde’s arousal, pretty eyes wide and frightened. The slap that landed across her face made said eyes squeeze shut, their kitten crying out with pain when Carol cracked her hand against the other side of the young woman’s face right after.
“Hey! I decide when you breathe, you dumb pussy,” the blonde gave another pair of sharp slaps. “You don’t fucking move—”
She took advantage of their kitten’s mouth opening as she gasped for air, the burning pain in her cheeks making her heart pound and her brain plead for oxygen. Carol immediately flattened herself over the younger woman’s face, grinding her cunt against the slippery wet heat of her sweet mouth. A loud moan escaped the blonde, finding the perfect position before grinding her clit roughly into their kitten’s nose. Her hips moved with brutal fervor, completely ignoring the other woman’s struggling and cries—until she managed to turn her head again.
“Bad girl!” Carol shifted immediately to kneel above her again, slapping her into a daze before shuffling around to sit facing the opposite direction above her face. She positioned her pussy over her mouth again and settled down just as their kitten was starting to regain her senses.
The blonde used the change in position to pin the younger woman’s arms across her chest with one hand while the other reached between her flailing legs to rain painful slaps against her cunt. Her hips ground continuously into their kitten’s face all the while, chasing the pleasure until she could tell the other woman was getting close to passing out.
“Now you breathe,” the blonde murmured, raising her weight up enough that their kitten could wheeze for several long moments, entire body trembling from oxygen deprivation and fear while she choked on sobs. “Again.”
Carol was determined to find her orgasm while riding her pretty face. Their kitten heaved desperately just before the blonde could lower her weight again but was too weak to truly fight, going limp beneath her minus the fine tremors. The blonde’s hips moved with an assuredness that betrayed the frequency in which she participated in such an act—she knew exactly how far she could push and the goal was to fuck their kitten’s brain out. Feeling the struggles cease below her set Carol over the edge, grinding her orgasm out cruelly while their kitten floated in and out of consciousness.
“No thoughts in that pretty head now, are there?” She cooed, lifting herself up onto her knees and turning so she could look down into their kitten’s face. “Awh, not one. You don’t need to think, you just need to obey. Now, let’s try this again.”
The blonde tugged and manipulated their kitten back onto her knees while she herself stood up, leaving the young woman on all fours while she retreated back to the trunk. This time, Carol shucked her draped dress entirely and stood bare, one leg propped up to spread her cunt.
“Come.”
Immediately she shuffled forward on all fours, unsteadily and slowly but moving without hesitation, nonetheless. Carol’s smile was sharp enough to cut diamonds, all teeth and self-satisfaction as she watched their kitten come to a stop directly in front of her. She grabbed the back of the other woman’s head and forced her to look up, tugging until her face was practically pressed against her cunt once again.
“Clean up the mess you made,” Carol slipped her finger in their kitten’s mouth easily and tapped her tongue deliberately before directing her head once again. “Clean up, Kitten.”
The empress gave her a fair amount of time to try to parse out what was expected of her before the blonde forced her mouth open wide, and tapped her tongue with more force. “Stupid little pussy, you’ve got no higher thought, do you? Clean. Up.”
Her tongue poked out hesitantly and the blonde stroked her hand over the back of her head, pulling her closer. The young woman gave only the slightest hint of hesitation before carefully swiping her flattened tongue up Carol’s slit, jerking back slightly to see the blonde’s expression. Encouraged by the lack of anger or frustration their kitten, pretty eyes devoid of all intelligence still locked on the other woman’s face, carefully reattached her lips and tongue to her pussy.
“Ohh, you’ve eaten pussy before, haven’t you Kitten?” She moaned loudly, almost taken aback by how skillfultheir kitten was with her sweet mouth. “You gonna make me cum again? Yeah? Good girl.”
The blonde’s hands found purchase on the back of their kitten’s head, keeping her firmly pressed against her mound. She hadn’t planned to cum again, hadn’t intended to make the young woman eat her out so fervently but fuck,she was good and Carol didn’t want her going anywhere. Especially when the door silently opened and Val stepped in, eyebrows rising on her forehead in shock.
“Well, what in the world do we have here?”
content warnings: noncon fingering, oral, facesitting, suffocation, degradation, pet play, spanking (am i missing anything?)
AU: Titanic is going to Japan and Jack finds his way in to pursue his dream of building the world’s first mecha, in hope to use it to help the world. On the way he meets Rose, an sci-fi writer and lover of mechanics.
Summary: Fitz and Jemma go undercover as a couple and discover it isn’t as difficult as they’d thought it would be. But what happens when those feelings become a little too real? Season 1 au
This is my last chapter for this fic, hope you enjoy it and I’m sure you’ll enjoy the last one from @libbyweasley next week <3
“Hey girl!”
Jemma looked up from her tablet and smiled. “Good morning agent Triplett.” She didn’t feel like smiling a lot these days but it was hard not to smile at someone with such a genuine, sunny personality.
“Just Trip. I’m not even sure we’re agents anymore. Or that it’s safe calling ourselves that. What are you doing?”
“Ironing out the last details of our mission.”
“Oh right, the undercover mission,” he said with a strange knowing smile on his face that made her frown. They had all agreed that going after the 0-8-4 they had been told to retrieve before everything should be their priority, that they had to get there before Hydra got their hands on it, and that it made sense to go undercover. It wasn’t like he was in on some big secret.
“I can help with that if you want. We worked pretty well together the last time, right?”
The west had ripped Bucky down to his foundations, and built him back up, many times before. And it will continue to do so again, and again, and again. He was strong, he was a fighter. But what happens to a man when he’s given something to protect and fight for other than himself?
What happens is what Steve would call; a goddamn miracle.
The retelling of James Buchanan Barnes as an outlaw in the wild plains of late 19th century America, and how an outlaw’s heart thawed like the harshest winter into a bountiful spring.
WARNINGS; angst (a hell of a lot), fluff, both canonical and non-canon character death (graphic & non-graphic), animal death (horses), sassy and protective Bucky because that’s a warning in itself, graphic blood descriptions & gun violence, swearing, pet names, implied consensual smut.
Apparently the God awful Captain America movie serial from 1944 was originally supposed to be a Mr. Scarlet serial, which makes sense as Republic Pictures had previously made Fawcett characters Captain Marvel and Spy-Smasher into film serials previously but Republic backed out when Republic Pictures released that Mr. Scarlet had become the B-story in Fawcett’s Wow comics to Mary Marvel.
This is what I assumed the character would look like on fim
trails by the highway just out of earshot of traffic
schools during breaks
those little beaches right next to ferry docks
bowling alleys
unfamiliar mcdonalds on long roadtrips
your friends living room once everybody but you is asleep
laundromats at midnight
• any target • churches in texas • abandoned 7/11’s • your bedroom at 5 am • hospitals at midnight • warehouses that smell like dust • lighthouses with lights that don’t work anymore • empty parking lots • ponds and lakes in suburban neighborhoods • rooftops in the early morning • inside a dark cabinet
galeries in art museums that are empty except for you
the lighting section of home depot
stairwells
•hospital waiting rooms •airports from midnight to 7am • bathrooms in small concert venues
I just got the weirdest feeling I swear
OK LISTEN THERE ARE REASONS FOR THIS!!!
A lot of these places are called liminalspaces - which means they are throughways from one space to the next. Places like rest stops, stairwells, trains, parking lots, waiting rooms, airports feel weird when you’re in them because their existence is not about themselves, but the things before and after them. They have no definitive place outside of their relationship to the spaces you are coming from and going to. Reality feels altered here because we’re not really supposed to be in them for a long time for think about them as their own entities, and when we do they seem odd and out of place.
The other spaces feel weird because our brains are hard-wired for context - we like things to belong to a certain place and time and when we experience those things outside of the context our brains have developed for them, our brains are like NOPE SHIT THIS ISN’T RIGHT GET OUT ABORT ABORT. Schools not in session, empty museums, being awake when other people are asleep - all these things and spaces feel weird because our brain is like “I already have a context for this space and this is not it so it must be dangerous.” Our rational understanding can sometimes override that immediate “danger” impulse but we’re still left with a feeling of wariness and unease.
Listen I am very passionate about liminal spaces they are fascinating stuff or perhaps I am merely a nerd.
I, for one, appreciate your passion for liminal spaces and thank you for explaining it to the rest of us.
Photos of my faves from the list plus some more.
Empty parking lots
Any carnival
Ruins
Empty art galleries
Empty schools
Snowy scenery
City parks at night
Certain public bathrooms
Any foggy area
Rooftops
Empty fields under starry skies
Swimming in the ocean
Laundromats
Dark airplanes
Sorry I couldn’t fit it into one post! Apparently only 10 pictures are allowed. :/
Rating: T | Pairing: Wangxian | Rating: T | Pairing: Wangxian
Alternate Universe - Modern Setting | Alternate Universe - Reality Show | Long Lost Family AU | Adoption | Family Reunions | Reunions | Lost Love | Getting Back Together | Family Feels | Found Family | Angst with a Happy Ending | Mild Angst | Happy Ending | Podfic Welcome
„I remember him as…sunny,” Sizhui tells her. “His whole personality radiated sunshine and warmth. He was always smiling, always cracking a joke. He loved playing and rough-housing with us kids, but he could also be very gentle if he wanted to. Looking back, he couldn’t have been older than twenty-five; he was probably even younger than that, now that I think about it. But despite the short time we’ve spent together while he was looking after the kids at the orphanage, he always felt like a father to me.”
In which Lan Sizhui goes on a TV show, to find the man he saw as a father figure while he was in the orphanage, and who disappeared one day.
…and who just so happens to be his adoptive father’s long-lost love.
Rating: T | Pairing: Wangxian | Rating: T | Pairing: Wangxian
Alternate Universe - Modern Setting | Alternate Universe - Reality Show | Long Lost Family AU | Adoption | Family Reunions | Reunions | Lost Love | Getting Back Together | Family Feels | Found Family | Angst with a Happy Ending | Mild Angst | Happy Ending | Podfic Welcome
„I remember him as…sunny,” Sizhui tells her. “His whole personality radiated sunshine and warmth. He was always smiling, always cracking a joke. He loved playing and rough-housing with us kids, but he could also be very gentle if he wanted to. Looking back, he couldn’t have been older than twenty-five; he was probably even younger than that, now that I think about it. But despite the short time we’ve spent together while he was looking after the kids at the orphanage, he always felt like a father to me.”
In which Lan Sizhui goes on a TV show, to find the man he saw as a father figure while he was in the orphanage, and who disappeared one day.
…and who just so happens to be his adoptive father’s long-lost love.
Inktober Day 24- In another dimension, where dinosaurs not only didn’t go extinct, but are alive, and intelligent, the appearance of a strange shaggy little mammal would be cause for shock and terror!
The 23rd century was something else. With buildings that reached up to the sky, others that were literally in the sky, droids roaming the streets and living among the citizens, and even the flying cars that were expected by those science fiction movies plowed through the clouds.
But in Odin Eidolon’s mansion, it seemed that time had stopped. With the man facing a window reaching the ceiling, his gaze was fixed on the Eidolon Garden. Several passers-by were walking, either alone, as a family or as a couple, or simply with a pet keeping them company while police watched the area.
And Odin couldn’t help not frowning. So many people that he has seen born, grow and die, simply living their lives without knowing the eye in the sky that saw for the common welfare of the city. Contrary to popular belief, he did not mind that people were ignorant of his presence; he liked to be discreet — unless the situation required otherwise, he either had to deliver a droid or make a donation; he cared for everyone and had no preference for any. And since he was secretly an android with a literal artificial intelligence as conscience, no one had to worry that he was okay.
This is how things should be. He was the millionaire — millennial — businessduck of the XXIII century that saw for the common good even without expecting anything in return. Since the twentieth century, that’s how things had been: his old friend … and he against the world, facing Evronians and putting aside the tirades against the guardian of the city — and the galaxy, he would proudly acclaim — as if they were tiny particles of dust.
But everything had changed since 2188, and now he had an image to maintain: no one could get too close to Odin because it was knowing that he was not what he appeared to be, no one could get close because it was knowing that the great and powerful Odin Eidolon had a gentle side. Nobody could get close because it was to become fond of someone, someone most likely very mortal, someone who would not last forever unlike him–
“Odin” no one, unless they shared the same vestiges of immortality as him, for exactly the same reasons even if that was his best-kept secret “you felt it too, right?”
And of course, as someone who has dealt with time-related issues in a very personal way, it wouldn’t take long for Lyla to know what was different about the timeline. And as someone she knew long before Odin Eidolon, he knew that he could trust her. That is why he had specifically asked her to come to her mansion, even if it was with the vague excuse of needing her to deliver a message from him.
Still, he couldn’t help but straighten up, rearranging his jacket and securing his expression in the reflection in the window. One of the downsides of being a droid is that, unlike the sphere in which he could modify his appearance, his features were more vivid, and now anyone could see how melancholy or frustrated it made him think of the past just by looking at his face.
“To tell the truth, I doubt that someone ‘tinkering’ with space-time did not go unnoticed by the best time officer,” he commented with a sure smile taking place on his face, a great contrast to the Odin who a few moments ago was thinking about what was once. In his reflection, he saw Lyla’s face over his shoulder and the way she smiled even if she did so with a raised eyebrow.
They had never discussed the hypothetical case of Lyla knowing the true identity of Odin, much less after PK’s last visit to the XXIII century, and even if they did, something in which his words were kept honest was the esteem he held for the droid and her capabilities.
Not only because it was a creation of his industries, but because after years of adventures with a certain duck with or without the mask, he knew what she was capable of; like a father being proud of his child, strange as the comparison was when neither of them were exactly biological.
“They’ve already sent a squad to investigate, they’ll send a report as soon as they get to the bottom of all this,” she commented as she removed her jacket, revealing the dark pinkish suit of herfourth. Her hair was honestly a mess, indicating that she had come in a hurry as soon as she sensed the alteration in the story.
It was one of the few things that would never change no matter how many centuries passed, and while it was not something outlandish or very shocking, as someone who had seen so much since his inception, it would not be a surprise if Odin came to have a preference for simplicity. What would be normal or surprising for someone who has already seen it all, after all?
“Meeting the Time Police, it won’t take long.” But even if there was sincerity in the words, there was no room for doubt in the way his voice grew distant, finally turning to face the android, being his footsteps all that could be heard on the marble floor as he approached the couch closest to Lyla, whose expression had become more thoughtful, not to mention uncomfortable.
“This is not the first time the flow of time has been altered recently…” she commented, her voice softening as her fingers began to fiddle with one of her loose strands of hair, her free hand combing it as calmly as if it had never been rowdy in the first place “does the Timephoon sound familiar to you?”
It sounds familiar. Why does it ring a bell if he didn’t remember being activated when that happened? The truth is that his memory did not recall any data of that event, or find a record that indicated that that event really happened, but he did not think he could say something to Lyla without giving any clue of who he really was.
Confusion must have been evident on his face because Lyla looked distant for a few seconds, her shoulders slumping with an emotion Odin could not describe.
“We are not supposed to disclose the details of our investigations, but there is something that worries me, and you are literally the only non-cop and person of this time that I can trust.” Given the uncertainty in the words of the droid, Odin looked up again, arching an eyebrow. A part of him had been stirred when Lyla referred to him as a person, but at least he had the privilege of knowing that Lyla had the same trust in him as he had in her “but based on this, it appears that both incidents occurred in the XXI century.”
Paperinik.Hero. Donald. Wow, he hadn’t thought of the mere name in a long time, and just doing so awakened old previously buried feelings.
“Fortunately everything went well,” Lyla added quickly, sensing Odin’s concern; and though it ultimately calmed the businessduck’s cravings a bit, he could not be reassured by the idea that he still lived risky alongside his uncle, no matter how capable he was of taking care of himself.
But it couldn’t be like that, right? He was a young adult the last time they saw each other as Donald and Uno and he shared his dream of sailing the seas in his own boat or forming his own band, The Three Caballeros, and leaving behind that life of adventure to which he was typecasted to. Odin was aware that more than a century had passed since then, but he still had such information in his cloud; and it was Donald, the most stubborn duck he had ever met — technically the only duck he had ever met; it would make sense for him to be more independent now,
right?
But it was not like that. Even if Donald was technically more dependent on himself, he still stayed under Scrooge’s roof, risking his life as if it were a piece of cake for him — which was true, considering what he lived through day to day as a superhero, but his nephews–
The nephews. What would become of them?
“Surely it must be strange to receive this news so suddenly, but you are one of the few who are still present after the departure of PK; I haven’t heard from The Raider after his retirement, and I doubt I had the same confidence in him as he does in us” another good point.
“If it weren’t for the fact that time travel is still unstable, I’d see a way to go there personally to make sure everything is fine. It is not the first time that such an abrupt change has occurred, much less on two almost consecutive occasions.”
But it could not be. Because since the micro-contraption and the change of the Police’s department, traveling through time had become a suicide mission. Even Donald Paperinik knew that stabilizing him again was a matter of time and patience.
Knowing which one leftover for one or both was the mystery.
“I bet they’ll figure it out,” Odin said with an expression so radiant that he left Lyla blinking multiple times, “if there’s one thing that characterizes the Time Police, it’s that they never give up.”
And that was a fact for both of them, and she couldn’t help but smile with a tiny bit of determination. Lyla could remember all the misadventures she’d had as a policewoman with Paperinik, usually affected by his clash of ideas with the officers’. But Odin cleared his throat before sitting down on the couch, disturbing the droid’s thoughts.
“Maybe,” she confirmed, taking a place next to the businessman, entwining her fingers in her lap with a thoughtful expression, humming as her gears worked, “…but I won’t be able to do it alone.”
As if on cue… which it was basically, Odin looked up, meeting Lyla’s questioning eyes. It must have meant a lot to her, or she must be advanced enough that her gaze said what her voice box did not, so vivid that it reminded him of the times when Donald refuted about the humanity in them.
Quite ironic, considering they were anything but human.
“Are you sure? It could be risky” and although he knew it wasn’t a possibility, Odin wouldn’t know how to explain to PK why Lyla’s move was made.
Especially because it meant that he would have to accept it himself, he would have to accept that he once again lost someone whom he held dear and esteem.
And though there was that same hesitation in the droid’s eyes, Odin still sensed that determination that characterized her.
“I thought what you liked best is that we didn’t give up,” she scoffed, though it was clear that she wasn’t doing it out of pettiness. Especially since Odin detected that bit of doubt that he rarely saw in the attractive robot. “Also, as much as it pains me to accept it, it’s not exactly a fact. I like this time, and I appreciate your company, but I don’t belong here…”
Oh yeah. The certainly selfish desire to go home. Donald had explained it to him once, and even now he couldn’t quite understand it. And after all that she had been through in both eras — it’s not like he knew, it was natural for Lyla to think of that time as her home.
Well, there were already two. Seeing Anxieties wasn’t the same with no one complaining about his merely scientific interest in it.
Oh.
“Well, we won’t achieve anything by standing idly,” he concluded, delighting in Lyla’s pleasantly surprised gaze, “we should check first that the micro-contraption…”
Sure, it wouldn’t be easy. No one said it was, and the 23rd century did not have all the answers, no matter how surprising technological advances were compared to three centuries ago.
But after meeting PK and facing the way he had changed by being reactivated for the first time deactivated, he knew that he couldn’t leave his friend behind when the mere possibility was present.
He could tell that a long time had passed since then. But unlike him, she could go home. with Donald. As much as he wanted someone who shared the same vestiges of immortality as him, it wasn’t fair for her to keep her pigeonholed into the 23rd century when she had just expressed that she didn’t belong there — otherwise, where would be the freedom of the droids that he had fought so hard for?
Who knows, surely the return of time travel would mean that she could visit him, and they could talk about… who knows, only time could tell.
Poor Odin, he didn’t know how wrong he was.
“Family,” Donald cleared his throat, his shoulders partially tense before extending both arms to Uno, showing off with years of restrained pride, “this is Uno. Uno, this is my family…”
Before repeating the same gesture, and no one missed the way Uno’s expression had softened. How not do it when Donald gave him his million-dollar smile and stars literally shone in his eyes?
It was an expression that he dedicated only to him, when the adrenaline of heroism had already run out and it was only them in the Tower, talking about everything and nothing with Anxieties playing in the background. And he didn’t know how much he had missed it. for all these years. Not to mention how clear it was that he was hiding his emotion from them.
Della literally kept her gaze scrutinizing him, analyzing his every move as he stood with some power, a mocking smile crystal clear on his face. If he didn’t know better, surely his partner would compare him to that cousin Gladstone of whom he spoke so much with disdain, and the idea was funny and ironic.
Scrooge? He could still recognize him, how could he not when the most obvious change in his appearance, despite the years clearly elapsed, was the color of his coat and spats? Sure, he looked different than in that photo Donald had shown him in that boat of his, and his shoulders were slumped with weariness.
Though it was not the same exhaustion that Old Cape reflected in his posture.
What attracted Uno’s sensors most, however, were the new additions to the family, four children whose undivided attention was on him, and it didn’t take long for him to identify them with the information his partner had given him.
Huey, Dewey, Louie, Webby. Certainly lovely that their names — or nicknames, as he had assured him — rhymed.
“One Ducklair, Donald’s old friend.” He held out his hand, maintaining a certain formality that it puzzled his friend if his nervous snort said something. It was obvious how much he had improvised with the name. However, even if he didn’t put it into words, to him the sailor was like an open book, and he could feel how new it was for both of them him to hear him without a voice modulator.
However, in front of his scanners, he saw nothing but Donald injured, physically or emotionally.
Magic ice.
Comments on his voice.
Feathers.
The fights at school.
Cookie.
All the times Donald came to the tower with fire on his sister and his uncle on the tip of his tongue.
Hospital.
Every night he spent in the tower after a heated argument with Scrooge.
Dry blood and untreated scars.
Tears that shouldn’t be there.
In front of him, there were only the people who had caused so much damage to the most important duck for him, be it involuntary or not. And now that he had a more lively body and features, he knew it wouldn’t be long until his disgust was evident.
But for now, he would have to keep his guard down. The last thing he wanted was to cause trouble for his partner, as tempting as it was to tell Scrooge and Della their truths.
After all, it wasn’t the first secret he had to hide.
Title: whenever there is a moon , it will be a sun alongside it Fandom:Rapunzel’s Tangled Adventure (Cartoon) Prompt: Childhood Trauma Character(s): Rapunzel & Varian
Summary: Living in the tower won’t be easy for a couple of kids. But as long as they are together, everything will be fine. Right?
Della was able to see all angles, she was sure of that since she was a child. She couldn’t remember if it was a skill that she had always had or that she developed as she grew up, but it was undeniable that it was there. Also, there were other possibilities that the sight of it offered her, and that was to read people, particularly her brother.
Of course, there were non-believers (including Donald himself) who claimed otherwise, and there were others who argued that it was because they were twins that Della was able to know what he thought, and that was partially true. Because while there were times when they found themselves thinking the same thing, the truth was that both also worked individually, and Donald himself was a different world from her.
A world that was commonly incomprehensible to many, including her. Not exactly because of the way her brother speaks, but because of the way he acts. It was not a secret that they were completely opposite, even Della had heard such comments since they were in high school, and she knew that he did as well because of the erratic way in which his behavior changed despite remaining like the typical shy boy from the corner.
Perhaps that was why she had sensed the discomfort of her twin throughout the journey, even if she was a few kilometers from him and even if she turned her back to him, as if it were a gentle breeze brushing her feathers and fiddling with her clothes. Her gaze remained focused on the sky, a path that she recognized on the way and that she recognized back; however, a part of her was focused on the conversations that were going on behind her. Goofy chatted with the children, Max’s name popping over and over with such a familiar fondness that it left an emptiness in the pilot’s stomach,
(Especially since it reminded her of her brother while talking about the triplets, but it didn’t make sense: would Goofy have a child?
Her brother always got on better with him than her, but she had always known him as a loving guy, and surely she would have known of a child before she had taken the Spear of Selene; particularly what will his wife be like? She must be very gallant if she, again, had managed to conquer Goofy of all people.
Which, in turn, made her wonder about Mickey and Minnie, because so far the only clue she has had since her return has been that melon that Donald had with him on the island and—)
on the other hand, and now that she had stopped talking to LP, she could hear her brother having a pleasant conversation with Agent— Beakley. And though Della couldn’t figure out what they were talking about, her hands were shaking on the wheel. Because Donald’s desire kept tickling her mind.
Specifically, on his reason for asking it.
Not having to worry about the family being capturedorlost.
“Della.” Her uncle’s calloused hands on hers made her blink, and she returned to focus on the flight — much to the extent that Launchpad took care of it to her apparent distraction, though she did let her uncle know that she was listening to him with a gesture, “are ye okay? Ye’ve bin very… quiet since we got on the plane.”
In fact? No. At least, not quite. Lost, lost. Lost. The word poked at her brain incessantly, and it frustrated her.
Della cherished having discussed the Spear’s topic with the children, and having her uncle’s support despite yelling at each other — it was to be expected, though, with their tempers. However, she acknowledged that she still owed her twin a conversation; not only about the rift that she had formed between them a decade ago, but also about the time when he was the one who was on the moon and her apparent disinterest when he told her through that bizarre melon. Her brother had always been someone who refused to talk, particularly if it involved his feelings, but he had even refused to speak after the invasion and it made her stomach clench.
Lost.
Della knew she was lost even when she returned to her home. From the terrible second impression with her uncle to the relationship with her kids. She had no idea how to be a mother, she had barely read a thing or two even when she was waiting for the triplets because her thoughts were more focused on the world behind that stardust she saw through her window after every adventure, and when she landed on the Moon her priority had been to repair the rocket and return to Earth. Instead, her brother had read all the books on parenting the moment he discovered that she was waiting, and even she could claim that he had been made from other sources that she was still unaware of to date.
Her mind had always been in the clouds and that had led her to be stranded in space without being able to develop her motherhood. But Donald had always been on Earth, being the father and mother of her sons; But having wished Gene for a normal and perfect family, she had a feeling that perhaps it could be something more.
“Yeah, yeah, Uncle Scrooge,” she said in a distant voice; though she knew she had been slow to respond, her uncle’s concerned expression confirmed it once she returned to concentrating enough on the vast stage in front of her, “but I need to think a few things. Launchpad, would you mind continuing the flight to the mansion?“
Of course, the other driver was an incarnate sunbeam, and he only responded with a thumbs up and a smile without reciting any words or questions before taking the wheel again.
But no matter which direction her mind took, they all came to the same conclusion: she should speak to Donald soon.
It was with that thought in mind that she headed for the houseboat, feeling her shoulders grow heavier as she approached. The triplets and Webby were watching TV, and she had literally seen Beakley in the kitchen not long ago. Scrooge had retired to his office with Isabella’s journal and Duckworth was away, doing ghost things; ergo, there was no one who could interrupt her during her conversation with her self-proclaimed best friend, but that did little to relax her and, otherwise, made her tenser. Not just because it wasn’t a secret that Donald was more emotional, the lamp incident had proved it to her, but because with their infamous temperaments it was a lousy combination in case the situation got out of control, what if …?
When she was least aware of it, her metal foot stepped onto the hatch that gave her access to the boat. And even though she knew it was more sensible to go to the door and knock, especially remembering how strict her brother had been about his privacy from their distant adolescence — that, on second thought, it made no sense when it came to Donald because: what could he hide from everyone that required a dress code that never existed? —, the truth was that she was very impatient to discuss this issue to walk the deck only to go to the bow and also wait to be attended.
No. If she was going to do this she was going to do it now, and with that conviction, she raised the hatch.
"Donald, listen. I know I’m coming unannounced, but you and I have to…” Down the stairs, her words died in her throat when she saw the aforementioned accompanied by… a strange-looking duck, who had also become tense at her presence. They appeared to be looking at a framed photo, but the abrupt way in which they parted, as if they had been caught doing something wrong, did not go unnoticed.
This puzzled Della much more than expected, perhaps due to the fact that…
“Dumbella! I told you to knock.” Donald was really calm, when he used to be on the alert for a visit from any stranger. If that in itself was strange, he just looked a bit annoyed at her sudden entrance.
"Don’t worry, D,” however, his features seemed to relax when said stranger addressed him, approaching to murmur something that caused him to stifle a laugh. That definitely didn’t twist something in his stomach.
Her brother looked relaxed, off guard, more cheerful than she could remember, and it took the pilot out of focus on the reasons that brought her to the houseboat in the first place. Sure, she remembered seeing him like this during junior high and high school with Mickey and Goofy, or in college with José and Panchito; but right now there was something in his gaze that she was unable to define.
Particularly, there was the fact that her brother used to chat about the antics he did with his friends all the time, and the visits did not wait when they were in the mansion on an almost daily basis, not to mention the multiple sleepovers that her little brother did per week.
In one way or another, they had adopted a small place under their roof, allowing her to know and grow fond of them, even if they got on better with her twin.
But this guy? She didn’t recall Donald mentioning an outrageously dressed mallard, not even in a slip; there were no antecedents, there were no visits. Still, his calm in the face of this unfamiliar new face tickled the back of her neck, and she didn’t like it.
“Er…” She cleared his throat, and it seemed that they too had been pigeonholed into their little bubble. There was also the look that this guy gave her at all times, as if he was watching her and reproaching her for some reason she did not know. “Donnie? Don’t think I’m planned to be rude, but who is he?”
Having to fight her willpower not to point him out because Donald would scold her for the rudeness, she instead pointed her eyes at him, and the frown of her strange companion didn’t soften - at least, not with her. That did less to reassure her, especially considering the way her brother’s eyebrow arched in confusion, at least until he met his partner’s gaze and his face lit up in an unusual way, and it lit a small sparkle in the pilot’s gaze.
“Oh, where are my manners?” he exclaimed with a small blush blurring the feathers of his cheeks, and her desire to make fun of him increased but she was held back when she noticed that Donald was really sorry and her conversation with him continued in a pendulum.
“Easy, Ol-Don,” he cleared his throat, letting his hand rest on the sailor’s shoulder for a second, though of course, it would be enough for him to relax, before addressing her again with a serious face, all traces of complicity that he seems to have with her twin fading away.
And judging by the way his eyes widened, he noticed it too.
“Uno Ducklair, Donald’s old friend. Nice to meet you.” His voice had certainly turned strict, enveloping in a dark aura that mystified Della as he shook her hand, with a smile that might look real if not for her keen eyesight.
She wasn’t sure if the other duck in the residence would have noticed, but it seemed to be eyeing the blissful Uno with an indecipherable expression. Most disconcerting was the way he tried to hide his outstretched arm from her brother, as if he were trying to protect him.
But from who?
"Erm, I’m… Della Duck, Donald’s sister. I’m sorry for the… intrusion, but I didn’t know my brother was expecting visits” and she was really sorry, considering they both seemed to be in the middle of a chat when she arrived “nice to meet you.”
Before shaking her hand with the mallard’s, she sighing aloud at the grasp.
“Wow, you really have a strong hand, huh?” Laughing nervously, she heard her brother reproach her in the background.
But Uno knew.
Uno knew he wouldn’t find himself in the Ducklair Tower again until years later as Odin Eidolon, when Donald and his adventures as Paperinik, as well as the friends and enemies they had made along the way, were nothing more than a vague memory in the abandoned lair. However, there he was: the tower reviving while he was reactivated and his data was transferred, the memories that he had kept hidden from his creator becoming overwhelming during the moments in which he became accustomed again to the environment that was the hiding place that once witnessed the tommyrot of two partners who saved the city and saw Anxieties in their spare time.
Uno knew that the first image in his database after that memorabilia was Donald’s face, cheerful and full of life, always telling bad jokes as he faced Evronians and the misadventures of daily life. The glint in his gaze as he thought of the future with his nibling, who would later become nephews. And Uno knew that he should appreciate that look again, being almost instantaneously that he looked for his old fellow in the system while his arms were in charge of giving the last details to the body that had begun with so much care before being deactivated.
He had missed him, he had to confess. He was not ignorant that many of the machines of the time of his partner of crime were incapable of feeling any emotion; but after meeting Lyla and himself learning about them after his friend, that stereotype had been erased from his data or, in Donald’s words, thrown out the window.
As he polished the finishing touches to what would be the new recipient of his data, he hadn’t gone unnoticed the adding of some Gizmoduck and Darkwing Duck as saviors of the city. And though he found the absence of Paperinik alarming, that concern was forgotten the second he found the whereabouts of said vigilante.
In just a few minutes, an Artificial Intelligence had given way to an android that was heading to the McDuck Manor. That, while he took in every detail, feel, and color that the city was from a new perspective.
But as an AI, Uno’s data was collected, and he was able to remember.
And he remembered every afternoon they watched every episode of Anxieties, new or old, while they both tried to disguise the effect that Saxony Starbright had on them and made a few comments about the plots and absurd twists that the writers made even if they used to be on the edge of the seat at such absurd twists like the hypocrites that they were.
He remembered every mission he did alongside Paperinik, being his eyes and ears in the tower as the hero took care of the casual villains and the Evronians in his umpteenth futile attempt to increase his army, as both would joke about it later while he checked the little scrapes and bruises between his feathers.
But he also remembered those wounds that were not generated by the occupational hazards, those occasions when Donald had to work harder and not smarter due to the adventures he faced every day in the company of his sister and his uncle. Those moments when he limped into the secret apartment, refusing to be checked to retire to put on the suit of his second job despite the reprimands he gave while Donald was dressing or when the situation was resolved, when the hero was too mentally and physically exhausted to fight the worrying intelligence.
When Donald was on the brink of hypothermia from some magical ice he was on.
When he came in exhaling a cocoa scent and trailing bright-colored plumage, his sensors detecting sensitive peck marks under his own feather coat, particularly in the cranial area.
Or each time he came in with more and more scars, his clothes shattered, bald spots, and even obvious bruises. Many times because of some crazy adventure, other times because he fought someone at school, the character of his partner added to the physical ability that he possessed from his self-induced training.
When he arrived depressed due to an argument with family members, because he refused to go out with them to the next hidden temple, because of his bad luck or even his cousin’s getting in the way of each meeting, or because he was still not understood metaphorically and literally by his family or a third party.
For his family.
For his family.
For his family.
Uno did not know how, but until he discovered that Della was waiting even before Donald, the occasions in which he had seen him truly smile, at least with his family, could be easily counted and that because he had collected them, and on the other hand he really stood out when he was with friends, including him.
He really didn’t want to feel some things unless they involved Donald, and while this technically involved his partner, he also knew the fondness he had for his family, so his confusion at his reaction was not only valid, but justifiable.
“Uno?” He blinked, and they knew what a relief it was for the sailor to mutter that name again even if there were no words in between, and even blinking out of his thoughts was so strange and wonderful to him, “Is everything okay?”
It was then that he recognized how nervous Della was in front of him, and tried not to feel joy at it because this was his best friend’s sister and while he wanted her to fear and more, he did not want to get into an argument with Donald after a decade of estrangement and a lot of time to recover.
“Yes, yes, my apologies,” and though he wasn’t really sorry, it was gratifying to see Della tense enough because that was the least he feared every time Donald had to leave Duckburg with them. “I’m not that used to physical contact.”
And well, that wasn’t entirely a lie. Donald has been the one who has gotten him used to it, and that because he used to be very affectionate back in the tower, and getting used to the body was also new to him, but he did not know how much he had changed in recent years if the first thing he had done when he saw him was to keep clung.
But Della was watching them warily, and somehow both knew what the next question would be before it exited the pilot’s peak:
“And how did you meet?”
“During the time you were in flight school,” Donald began almost instantly, finally intervening between his sister and Uno even if he tried his best not to make it weirder than it already was, “I was looking for a part-time job and coincidentally Uncle Scrooge had just bought the Ducklair Tower so I started working there. Uno is… one of the sons of Everett Ducklair, the previous owner of the tower” Donald had to accept that his lying skills had rusted over the years — after raising the triplets on honesty, but the least he could do and he was grateful for was dancing around the truth because he had become the custodian of the Tower while his sister soared through the skies in search of her pilot’s license, as uncomfortable as it was for him to even mention the name of his old friend’s master’s name.
But he also didn’t want to know her reaction to knowing how involved he was with artificial intelligences, aliens, droids, and time travels. Especially when it was all over and it had been a lot to him at the time.
“Hmm, well Uncle Scrooge said you changed a lot while I was in school, that you had become more sensitive or something, and more alert,” she commented out of nowhere and with a thoughtful expression, and Donald blinked after hearing someone snort, rolling his eyes after recognizing Uno’s giggle even though a smile was visible on the edge of his beak, because if he had heard that several times during his time as a janitor and superhero, many times for teasing or bothering him, the truth was that he missed the teasing a lot — coming from his partner — because, unlike the ones he had heard on multiple occasions, they were not malicious. Besides the fact that facing bad boys had indeed helped his temper during his studies “it must have been for that. I guess I must thank you… Uno.”
Still, neither of them missed the discomfort on Della’s face, or the way she fiddled with her scarf, and her smile became strained as she spoke more.
Maybe it was because of the fact that Donald had secret friends? Because of the looks Unogave her behind the back of his brother? Was it some older sister instinct that hadn’t been around since high school coming to life and yelling at her to protect her brother from Uno at all costs?
And that was the hardest part, because Donald didn’t look at all overwhelmed or alert by the mallard’s presence. Indeed, she felt her twin relaxed in a way that only happened when he was with José and Panchito, and that had been while they were in college.
“I was just telling Uno to introduce him to the rest of the family, that you came in was a mere coincidence,” Donald commented, with a smile so bright it puzzled Della, when was the last time you saw him so happy about something that surrounded him?
But she couldn’t question it too much when Donald’s face turned strange, blinking as his expression changed.
“What brings you here anyway? Not that it bothers me!” He clarified quickly, grinning nervously, and Della could have sworn the third duck’s face turned warmer, and that was something she could share: she had also missed seeing Donald turn into the same nervous wreck as to when they were young adults. The duck cleared his throat and crossed both arms behind his back, “it’s just, well, the only times you come unannounced are when you can’t sleep. Now that I think about it, you seemed to want to tell me something… is everything okay?“
As he looked thoughtfully, he acknowledged that sooner or later he would have to talk to his sister about his desire and what happened next was more than evident. However, he did not expect it to happen so soon, and Donald preferred to wait once the situation with Uno was over and he had had enough time to think about what to say to her.
Unconsciously, that little consideration from the sailor had been enough for Della to remember what had dragged her into the boat in the first place, it can’t be that she has forgotten so quickly!
However, the pilot couldn’t help but wonder if now was the right time, especially seeing how calm it was in comparison to the cave. Actually, it was as if he had never had a breakdown in the first place.
She wanted to preserve that for a few more moments. Furthermore, she would never have known how to start that conversation even if she could chat with her brother at the time.
"It’s not that important, it can wait.” She shrugged, maintaining a serene expression that she now felt more sincere. If Donald noticed that tiny detail, he didn’t say anything. “Don’t you mind if I keep you company to the mansion? If anyone had the audacity to put up with my brother’s plover head, it’s worth knowing.”
She olympically ignored her twin’s reproach in favor of sneering at him, feeling satisfied when the mallard giggled despite the faint reddish tinge in the sailor’s feathers.
“I don’t see why not,” Uno commented. And even though he still looked relatively tense, his shoulders looked more relaxed when he side hugged Donald. Della could not gloat over that small victory given the strange glint in Uno’s eyes. It was a bit inhuman, though the pilot didn’t want to jump to baseless conclusions, but they seemed to be on the alert, “but I’d rather wait: the plover head was thinking of wait and respond with the whole family present, he doesn’t want to leave anything unsolved.”
Unlike her, there seemed to be an iota of homesickness when he used the same nickname to poke fun at Donald, and though he rolled his eyes this time, an exhausted smile took place.
Della flinched when Donald suddenly raised his voice, his voice raspier with the effort.
“Family, can you come over for a second?!” Even Uno smiled, wincing at the future state of the sailor’s throat. “I want you to meet someone!”
