“What did you put on the pizza?” - “Much love. And whatever I could find in the fridge.”
this story warmed my soul… HDL find out that Donald is Duck Avenger because he talks in his sleep, and they accidentally let it slip. Soon all of Duckburg knows and Donald has no rest anymore, even being threatened in his own home. HDL suggest that he should start over in a new city where nobody knows him but refuse to come with him, worried that they are a danger to his secret identity. He despairs, yelling after the leaving HDL that they are what he loves most… and then he wakes up. Only, HDL really heard him talk in his sleep… about how much he loves them.
CW: Abuse of Power, magical exhaustion, dehumanization, dehumanizing language
Verse: Kethrys
Only briefly mentioned, but Ariadne belongs to @just-horrible-things and is a crucial member of the Kethrys verse. She will be mentioned multiple times in this arc, and some of this will be co-written with JC as well.
~~~
Her eyes blink open slowly, wincing at the bright light shining through from the sun high overhead. Her first realization is that her body is drained, still shaking from the blatant overuse of magic. There’s red in the rock-studded dirt from her nose bleeding when she tried to continue past her limits. Too much. Again. She passed out, nearly draining the life out of her. It’s her job in the king’s army to be some throwaway weapon with no value. Use her powers until she can’t physically continue. The normal day. Jo is clever enough to use her magic in a way that won’t actually impact her side of the war, but it’s flashy enough for her cruel commander to think she’s actually doing her job.
There’s a sharp kick from a steel-toed boot, colliding with her ribs, and jerking her back to awareness with a sound between a gasp and a yelp. “Get up, weapon.” The commander sneers, second word hissed in disgust. “Make me.” Jo doesn’t bother to hide her snarking response. She doesn’t need to be that creative with Bolshain… she honestly doesn’t have to say anything to provoke him. As predicted, there’s another kick, straight to her chest, driving into already bruised ribs. It leaves her gasping for air, wheezy and sharp, her chest feeling as if it’s crushing her lungs. “Get up, Amir.”
