Little Women Amy x Laurie Fake Dating Modern AU
Theodore Laurence and Amy March run into each other in France, after years of not speaking.
The not speaking thing wasn’t their fault, though, not really. But Laurie and Amy’s sister Jo, who’d been his best friend, had a big falling out a couple of years before, after he told her he loved her and she told him she didn’t. Consequently, Laurie took upon himself a March embargo, determined to completely forget about Jo and anything that could remind him of her, which included her family.
Which is a shame, since he’d been quite close with the March sisters, and came to regret not keeping in touch with Meg and her husband, his good friend John, and their new babies, as well as not being there as Beth got sick, and no longer seeing Amy, whom he’d started to be real friends with as well.
So, the contrast of denying himself their presence and suddenly being completely surrounded by Amy almost overwhelms Laurie, but as it turns out, he’s nothing but happy upon seeing her, as well as relieved.
Amy March is as bubbly as he remembers, even though she’s older, and accordingly more mature. She’s not as dramatic, he thinks, and seems to be more careful of what she says and how she moves. For a second, he reflects on how the innocence and freedom of childhood is truly gone, if Amy, the youngest among them, is now a grown woman, but mostly he marvels at the adult she’s become.
Amy, for one, is ecstatic at seeing Laurie again – he’d been severely missed in the March household, and while Jo had been annoyingly vague about what had happened between them, they got the gist of it, and gave them the room they needed to process it all.
Amy always thought it was unfair, though. That just because he and Jo had a fight, that no one else could be in contact with him either. Sure, they’d been best friends (which they’d never missed a chance to remind the others of, always going off on their own lone adventures), but Laurie had at least been friends with them, too. But they weren’t allowed to say anything, and Laurie became a ghost, vaguely somewhere across Europe, but as good as dead for Jo March, and so as well for the rest of them.
Finding him in France, though, leaves no room for Amy’s grievances, or her insecurities. They were friends, it’s clear now. They are friends. They can have their own relationship, independent of Jo, and she’s so happy to have her friend back, to have back a piece of home that’d been missing for long.
They become almost lifelines for each other in the foreign country. Laurie has his contacts, and Amy has made friends in the art course she’s taking there, but the two quickly become inseparable, almost as if making up for all the time they lost not talking - she fills him in in all things March; he regales her with tales of his gap year misadventures. And a misplaced piece of the universe rights itself a little bit.
So, when Amy needs an reason to refuse a date with Fred Vaugh – an old acquaintance, here on business, whom yes, she’s admittedly been flirting with for the past few weeks, but whom she can’t, in good conscience, actually go out with, because while he’s perfectly nice and respectable, he doesn’t actually do anything for her romantically, and wouldn’t that be leading him on? – Laurie’s is the first name to pop into her head, and is, she thinks, a perfectly valid excuse. Well, valid, with a few tweaks. Namely, saying that he’s her boyfriend, as opposed to the far truer, yet less usable, boy friend.
When she explains the situation, Laurie finds it weird. Then funny. Then, given the opportunity to act out the role at a party she knows Fred will be at, downright hilarious. Amy would be furious at him for making fun of her situation, if he didn’t manage to, at the same time, make a convincing enough showing that Fred leaves her alone. And, she has to admit, it is pretty funny.
It hadn’t been anything more than that, really. Shortly after, Fred went back to London, and the whole thing was simply a lark between the two friends, notable only because Laurie starts referring to Amy as a heartbreaker.
It only becomes a thing a couple of months later.
Amy has since returned home, her summer course over, and spends the first weeks of Autumn in Massachusetts, prepping for her final school year, looking after Beth as she waits for test results about her remission, babysitting the twins for Meg, and avoiding telling Jo about her summer, since she’s not quite sure how her stance on Laurie has shifted (or not) in the past few years.
This becomes apparent when Laurie calls her, a few weeks into the semester, to cash in.
Apparently, Amy has inspired him, and Laurie is returning to the US as well. Seeing her has made him realize he misses home, and, admittedly, his grandfather has been on him about what is an acceptable amount of time for a gap year. This decision prompted him to reach out to Jo. They talked, for a bit, and mostly everything was fine. Great even, and signs pointed to them being able to return to their friendship after all! Until Laurie had the brilliant idea to tell her he’s dating her sister.
Amy, which she feels he deserves, promptly laughs in his face when he tells her.
He says he’s completely and totally over Jo, he is! (Amy maintains a healthy skepticism about this, but lets him go on) It seems that Jo had been looking forward to seeing him again, but adamant that her feelings hadn’t changed, and hoped he’d finally moved on. He’d made assurance after assurance, but the only way he could think of to truly prove it was to tell her he was seeing someone – which isn’t completely a lie, as he had dated other people in the meantime – only to then pop out Amy’s name when Jo asked about it – which is completely a lie.
Here is where Amy questions his reasoning, since he could have said literally any other name beyond Jo’s baby sister’s, and how could he think she’d take that well, and Jo was going to think she’d kept it from her, Laurie, did he have any idea how furious she will be when she sees her at Christmas??
But Laurie maintains that Amy owes him for Fred Vaughn – which has her rolling her eyes every time he mentions it, because c’mon, that was nothing like this – and that she’d been the first person he’d thought of – which does warm her heart a little – and who else could he rope into a fake relationship who could understand the whole thing with Jo?
“Fake relationship” stops Amy in her tracks.
Apparently, Laurie has a plan. A whole plan.
Amy tries to explain that all her lie had demanded of him was going to cool party. Laurie doesn’t see the relevance. Amy wants to yell at him through the phone.
Laurie will be arriving in Massachusetts shortly before Amy’s winter break, giving him only a while to face Jo on his own (and hopefully mend some bridges), at which point Amy will return home, spend her break cuddling with him by the fire – “Is that really so bad, Ames?” – convincingly enough that Jo sees he has completely moved on. Come the New Year, Amy will return to school, and eventually they’ll break the news of their uncoupling, stating how they’re better as friends, and everything will go back to normal.
It’s so easy!
Sure.
It starts off not easy at all, when the very next call Amy receives is from Jo, demanding to know every single detail of her relationship with Laurie.
For all intents and purposes, Amy is pretty proud of her performance, actually, given how little time she had to prepare. She thinks she manages to sound convincing yet apologetic, explaining how they’d gotten close in Paris and had been keeping it low-key because they weren’t sure where it was going yet, plus the long-distance while Amy went back to the States and Laurie stayed in Europe, not to mention his previously chilly relationship with the rest of the family (a not-intentional, but also not-untrue dig at Jo, there, which Amy isn’t sure she gets or not). She talks about how she totally intended on telling her when they knew it was serious, but Laurie totally blindsided her by telling Jo so soon. The best lies, Amy finds, have a little bit of the truth.
“So it’s serious?” Jo asks, and Amy hesitates for a second. A serious relationship. With Laurie. Faking a serious relationship with Laurie.
Her heart does a weird little twist she isn’t sure comes from lying to her sister, the anticipation of the scale of the performance she’ll have to give when they’re all together, or something else entirely.
“I guess.” she settles on, and promptly puts it out of her mind. There’s no point in spiraling for the intervening weeks, she tells herself, even if she does get progressively more stressed out as the semester ends.
When she does get home, though, it’s all so familiar, her anxiety just vanishes.
She’s missed her family. As close as they’ve always been, it’s always been tough being away from them all for months at a time. As soon as she walks through the door, it’s all hugs and smiles, and she feels nothing but welcomed.
And, admittedly, despite everything else, she’s missed Laurie, too. He’s already there when she arrives, like he’d told her he’d be, and Amy doesn’t even think about it before hugging him tightly when she sees him. It’s been ages since they’ve been together in person, after all, and this after months of spending every day together. No matter what else is going on, she just missed him.
It’s only when Jo chides at them to “break it off, lovebirds” that Amy remembers, and hopes her resulting awkward smile/grimace is seen as embarrassment for being with her “boyfriend” in front of her family, instead of regret over her every decision of the past few months.
Other than that, though, it ends up being not too bad. As much as Amy is loath to admit it, Laurie wasn’t too far off in his plan. They don’t have to act that lovey-dovey, just sit together at gatherings, hold hands once in a while, talk amongst themselves for a bit. It’s actually remarkably similar to how they’d behaved nearly every day in Paris. Amy hadn’t even thought of it as romantic, though, not until now, when the contrast of how they used to be, in their childhoods, is so apparent.
Her family’s reactions aren’t so bad either. Dad makes a joke about Laurie having to watch himself from now on, but since it’s been well established how much he loves him and the Laurences, it’s never meant as nor taken seriously. Marmee attempts to have a talk with her about their relationship, but Amy manages to abort that pretty quickly. Meg looks at them like she wants to say something, but doesn’t ever actually do it. Beth, bless her, just tells her she’s happy for them. And Jo makes a few comments here and there, which almost get to Amy, until she reminds herself that the whole purpose of this thing was for Jo and Laurie to get their friendship back.
And it even seems to be working. Since she’s been home, Amy’s watched Jo and Laurie joke around, argue and play off each other almost exactly like they did when they were kids. She can’t bring herself to talk about it with Laurie, but he hasn’t said anything to indicate otherwise, either, not that it was going poorly between them, nor that it was going in any other direction at all.
She’ll admit she was skeptical, when Laurie explained his plan to her, and that a large part of it was because she wasn’t ever truly sure if Laurie was really over her sister, as he claimed. He’d seemed so in love with her, before. And he’d been so heartbroken, when she’d rejected him. A small part of Amy wondered if he wasn’t just saying all of this for show, and if, once he saw Jo again, his feelings wouldn’t come rushing back. Amy does hope not. Even if she had her doubts, she wants for Laurie to be over Jo, really. She never did think they be very good together, is all. And she doesn’t want them to go through that heartbreak again.
If she watches them closely, just to try and see if there’s anything in Laurie’s eyes beyond friendly affection… Well, she’s just looking out for him, isn’t she? For both of them, really, or even for all of them, because everyone’s been excited to have the March and Laurence families together again, and another big emotional fight is the last thing they need.
And if she’s a little relieved every time Laurie notices her there and comes over, slinging his arm over her shoulders, or giving her a peck on the cheek… Well, that’s not really anyone’s business, is it?
It all goes fine, though. Jo and Laurie are perfectly friendly, not a hint of romantic drama nor icy coolness between them, and everyone’s happy through the holidays, and no one’s seemed suspicious of Amy and Laurie at all.
Amy’s all but forgotten about the plan and her anxieties over it, until it becomes all too real right on top of her.
Literally.
On Christmas morning, after they’ve opened their presents, and once Laurie and his grandfather have joined them for breakfast, Amy’s just greeting him, like she’s done every day, when Beth pipes up.
Amy hadn’t realized. She hadn’t been there when they decorated the house this year, even though their decorations haven’t changed in years.
As it always has been, right in the middle of the archway that separates the kitchen from the dining room, and right on top of where Amy and Laurie are standing, is a sprig of mistletoe.
It’s not even a big deal. Beth is the only one who noticed, and then Jo, who turned to look at them when she said it, but everyone else is busy, no one is really paying attention to them.
Yet, in Amy’s mind, this is maybe the worst thing that could’ve happen.
Mistletoe. Of course there’s mistletoe. How could she not have remembered the mistletoe?
Laurie seems as dumbstruck as she is, but he recovers quickly. They’re supposed to be a couple, after all. Couples aren’t supposed to be completely terrified by the mere notion that they kiss.
Amy only has time to register that it’s happening before it happens. Laurie inches his face closer to hers, and Amy doesn’t move away, doesn’t say anything. She meets him when he reaches her, and they kiss.
Laurie only intended it to be a chaste kiss, anyways. Something tangible enough for the others to not get suspicious, but light enough as to not make things uncomfortable, threading the needle to slip under the guise of them not wanting to kiss in front of their families.
It was supposed to be a chaste kiss.
It’s not that.
It’s something else entirely.
Before he knows it, not only has Laurie stepped closer into Amy’s space, but his hands have come up to her cheeks, and Amy has responded by placing hers on his waist. His eyes are closed, yes, he can’t see the room surrounding them, but all of a sudden he isn’t even aware of it. The only thing he’s aware of is Amy.
It’s so familiar. She’s Amy. He’s known her almost all their lives. They’ve been close for most of that time, have seen each other in all sorts of ways, have touched each other numerous times, they’ve shared friendly kisses and teasing ones, they’ve even kissed under the mistletoe before, a simple kiss on the cheek, when they were very little, after which Amy had blushed furiously, and Jo mercilessly made fun of them for the rest of the day.
But it’s also so new. He’s never been this close to Amy. Has never touched her like this, has never known what her lips tasted like before now. Peach chapstick. It should all be so simple and familiar, and Laurie should just let go and pretend it was nothing, but it isn’t and he can’t.
He has no idea how long they’ve been kissing, when Meg and John’s twins barge into the kitchen, crashing into Amy and Laurie and sending them almost flying apart. Jo “oooh”s at them teasingly, but it’s quickly forgotten about, in the bustle of the twins’ arrival, and the adults trying to get everyone to sit down and have breakfast.
Except that Laurie can’t forget about it. He can’t stop thinking about it, in fact. He can’t even make sense of it. He tries to catch Amy’s eye, to try and see how she’s feeling, but she won’t meet his. Is she being glib? Did it really mean nothing to her at all, just a fake kiss for their fake courtship? Or is she totally weirded out, unable to meet his eye? Could she be just as lost as he is?
The rest of the day passes by quickly, almost in a blur, and before he knows it, goodbyes are being exchanged, everyone headed back home for the night.
Amy’s barely looked at him since the kiss, but he tries one more time to talk to her before they leave.
And though she does look at him, this time, and smiles, gives him a quick hug goodbye, even, she’s gone before he can barely say anything.
She clearly doesn’t want to talk about it, then, so Laurie decides to try his best at putting it out of his mind. It was a kiss. So what? A great kiss, yes, but that was that. It was part of a plan. His plan. A plan that went great, even. Him and Jo are friends again, the Marches don’t hate him, and all they have left to do is explain they decided to break it off, in a few weeks. That they tried, but determined they were better of as friends. Him and Amy. Friends. Because that’s what they are.
Except that friends don’t think about each other for as long as Laurie starts finding himself thinking about Amy that week. Friends don’t wonder what it would have been like if they’d kissed any other time in the past couple of days, or if they’d been alone when they had, or wondering about any scenario where Laurie could have kissed Amy again, or for longer. And friends probably take each other’s calls, too. Which Amy hasn’t done since Christmas Day.
While Laurie understands she could perfectly well be busy, which would be a logic assumption from her curt text responses saying just that, Laurie also knows how it feels like to be brushed off, and it quickly becomes obvious she’s just avoiding him.
He wants nothing more than to talk to her, be near her again, something in the back of his mind desperate to be with her. It’s like seeing her in Paris after all those years set something off in him that can’t be satisfied, and it was only made stronger by that goddamn kiss.
But he won’t push her. He hopes she isn’t mad at him for the whole scheme, it is possible it was more taxing than he’d anticipated, after all. She’s probably weirded out by the kiss and needs some space. Okay. Space. He can do that. He won’t push.
He does count down the days until he sees her again, though.
Namely, at the Laurence’s New Year’s party, a week later.
Though Amy hasn’t explicitly stated she’ll come, the Marches have all been attending for years, and while there have been exceptions granted for illness, or work, Laurie sees (hopes for) no reason for Amy not to attend.
He’s already planned out what he wants to say, how he’s sorry for the whole thing, how he understands if she feels put off by him, how he just wants the two of them to be okay, and they never have to mention anything about the whole mess ever again.
Of course, though, as soon as he sees her, walking through the door after her sisters, the first thought that comes into his mind is how he wants to kiss her again.
Instead, he turns right back around and gets a drink.
He spends the next hour telling himself to get it together, that it’s just Amy, and he’s being ridiculous, and only then goes to talk to her.
Amy is reticent about being alone with Laurie, but also knows she’s avoided it for as long as she can, and they really should talk.
It’s not like anything will happen, right? Just because they’re alone, and Amy’s been thinking about the kiss, as well as basically everything that happened over Christmas ever since then, it doesn’t mean anything will happen when she actually talks to Laurie, other than just that. Talking.
Aware she’s trying way too hard to convince herself of this, Amy follows Laurie, becoming determined to push all of her internal doubts and bubbling feelings to the side and just have a talk with her friend. They’ll clear the air, he’ll tell her how the kiss meant nothing and will never happen again, and they’ll be back to normal. Friends. As it should be. And anything Amy might be feeling that’s clearly been brought on by the nostalgia of being home and not having been in a relationship in a while and not at all by this new-found closeness with Laurie and inability to pay attention to anything else when he’s near, it will all just fade away.
When they’re alone, he does apologize for his scheme and how maybe it went too far. He thanks her for going along with it, but that he never meant to make her uncomfortable, and he probably didn’t think it through as he should have, and if she wants, they can just come clean to their families right now.
Something in Amy melts a little. She’s not mad at him, not really. The fake relationship thing was weird, sure, but in the end, she gets it, and if things can be good between all of them in the end, then it was worth it. It was all maybe a bit more than she’d bargained for, but that doesn’t really matter does it? It’ll all just go away.
She also predicts that telling everyone they were lying now will just make things worse and more confusing, so Amy tells him she appreciates it, but there’s no need, they’ll just lay low and stick to the original timeline.
They both leave the room feeling better for having hashed it out, but still a little disappointed. It’s been agreed. They’ll just let the next few weeks go by, and that’ll be that. Back to normal, and no possibility for anything else. Great.
The rest of the party goes well, as light and fun as it can be. And if Amy and Laurie barely leave the other’s side during it, well, to anyone else, they’re supposed to be in a relationship, right? That’s normal. Beyond even that, they’re friends, it’s totally okay! Just like before, Amy squashes any feelings, even part of her is telling herself to enjoy it while it lasts.
Either way, when Mr. Laurence announces to the party that it’s only a couple of minutes till midnight, of course Amy and Laurie find themselves next to each other.
The panic from their first kiss is gone, and a certain inevitability remains over them. Well, of course this would happen. Of course, as a couple they’ll be expected to kiss at the stroke of midnight. When they turn to each other, Amy’s prepared to shrug it off like just something else they’ll have to do – she does not want to be caught off guard again – but finds Laurie already looking at her, a slight smile on his lips, and she can’t help but mirror him.
When the clock strikes midnight, cheers go up around them, but Amy and Laurie are oblivious. This one doesn’t even start as a peck. For all her distancing herself from it, Amy leans into the kiss fully intending to savor it this time. And for all his denial over it, Laurie does the same.
Before long, Amy’s hands are reaching up into Laurie’s hair, and his arms are circling her waist. One kiss turns into two, then three, as they slowly disentangle themselves to get some air.
Amy feels lightheaded, her body against Laurie’s, their foreheads pressed together and her eyes still closed. She can’t push it away this time. She wants to do that again. She wants to kiss Laurie forever, if that’s even possible. She just wants Laurie.
She doesn’t feel able to say anything right now, but Laurie beats her to it.
He says he’s been wanting to do that again since the last time, and Amy can’t help but agree.
She opens her eyes, sees Laurie, looking at her like he’s just had some revelation of his own, and Amy wonders just how long they’ve been headed here without realizing it. Before Christmas? Since Paris? Maybe even before that? Either way, standing here now, it feels inevitable. Her and Laurie, it’s just… It’s fitting. She doesn’t want to let go.
Amy drops the pretense.
“What are we doing, Laurie?” she asks, softly,
“I don’t know” he answers. “Do you want to stop?”
She shakes her head no, and he smiles.
“Can you just…” Amy adds. She needs to make sure. “This isn’t… It’s not the plan, right? It feels, different, at least for me, so just tell me, Laurie, is this still about that? Is it still about Jo, about getting things back to how they were?”
Laurie shakes his head, already interjecting as soon as Amy finishes speaking “No! No, it’s different for me too. It’s not… It’s certainly not about Jo. Amy, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you in days. Actually, probably years. I don’t want things to go back to how they were. Not if they can be better.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Amy can’t help but smile brightly. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you either. This feels… I don’t know what it is, but… Better, yeah. Better’s good.”
Laurie’s grinning right along with her, and he has, frankly, waited long enough, and dips his head to kiss her again.
When they finally separate, Amy asks “So, you still think we should go tell our families we’ve broken up?”
Laurie laughs, the whole plan he’d concocted feeling like a lifetime ago. “Well, maybe not right now. Or in the next few weeks. Or years. I don’t know, how about we just see where this goes?”
Amy grins. “That sounds good, yes.”
The two kiss one more time, blissfully unaware of the party going on around them, the Marches and Laurences and other guests toasting, and celebrating, and awaiting the New Year unfolding in front of them all.
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#I have Ideas(TM) on how I would want to handle the island scene #which in turn bleed into 'ideas on how I'd remake the show if I could'
#okay wait bestie where's your tangent analysis @justaboot
And that's all you needed to say in order to get me into full tangent mode so buckle up, I have no idea where this is gonna go!
(Posted as its own thing and put under a cut because hoo boy it is long- seriously, open at your own risk)
First thing's first- I'd make it so that Della's attempts to evade the pursuing Moonlander ship lead to both the Sunchaser and the Moonlander crashing on the deserted island. This would be so that the 'comedy' aspect necessary could be largely carried by a third party -a very confused Moonlander who is pretty sure that none of this is healthy- which would allow for the main cast to focus less on having to become comic relief. And I'd also have it happen for one other reason (which will become quite relevant later).
But the biggest thing I think about the island scene is that it had a lot that it wanted to do (show the twins interacting again for the first time in ten years, show that Della really isn't as okay as she'd like to admit, wrap up Louie's arc, allow the kids to interact with Donald again for the first time since the beginning part of the season), and didn't really have a bunch of time to do it in.
So to change that, I would make the deserted island scene it's own full episode. (Which would subsequently mean changing Moonvasion from a two-episode finale into a final arc- which would still really start with Timephoon).
It would allow for it to cover a lot more, go into more depth with the characters and their interactions with each other, starting with...
Della and Donald's first interaction with each other to be fighting. That'd be a very big part of what I'd want the episode to be about.
They're both exhausted, traumatized, angry, relieved, scared- they've got a whole cocktail of emotions brewing inside of them and they're just so tired of it all.
The episode before The Island would basically end with Della and the kids crashing onto the island and having Donald enter screen. It'd also end with Scrooge and the gang having 'beaten' Lunaris (thanks in large part to Fethry and Gladstone having shown up just in time), which, again, will become relevant later.
The episode would start in largely the same way as the island scene but a little more drawn out, with Donald and Della just sort of stuck in a 'is this actually real? Did I die and just not notice it?' trance before the kids snap them out of it.
And once they do, once they finally approach each other for the first time in ten years and the kids are all waiting with baited breath to see what'll happen... they don't fight.
Not at first.
They also don't cry and hug each other either. They just- greet each other. Awkwardly. Stilted, like they've forgotten how to act around each other. (And they haven't, but they're so scared, they don't want to ruin things and everything is going wrong and they don't want this to go wrong and after so long apart are they even the same people anymore?) So they to be polite, like 'How are you? What's happening? Why are you here? It's good to see you, how's life been?'
And of course the kids would think it's weird- they're twins, and yet they're acting like complete strangers around each other!
But as the conversation progressed, things would start to get more heated. 'Why weren't you around? Why didn't you try to find me? Why'd you leave Scrooge? Why didn't you send any messages? Why didn't you tell the kids about me?' Before they knew it, it'd turn into a full-on screaming match, ten years of pain and regret and loneliness and 'why did you leave?' all forcing it's way to the forefront, unable to be held back because of all the pain running through everybody's minds right now.
And the big difference comes in in that they wouldn't stop fighting. They wouldn't suddenly go 'I missed you' and have everything be okay. The kids would step in and pull the two of them away from each other, so that they wouldn't end up fighting while they've got a hostage (the Moonlander, whom the kids -namely Webby- would've tied up in the background during the whole fight) to talk to.
The moonlander explains what's happening as they're interrogated, and the kids start making plans to get off the rock. Della immediately objects, saying that they need to stay put, and looks to Donald for backup (after all, she knows her brother, right? After everything they've been through, and everything the kids have said about him, she knows that he'll probably advocate for the kids staying out of danger, too).
And Donald instead sides with the kids (which hammers home that Donald has indeed changed to Della). They need to get off the island and go help. And immediately they start making plans to fix the Sunchaser to fly out.
To which Della still objects. Much more heartily, this time. Everyone's a little concerned at the heat to her objections, which she brushes off by insisting that everything's fine, that they're all fine here, that Scrooge has it handled, that they're safer here, that they can't leave her behind, that all their needs will be taken care of, that all these thoughts of bravado and being able to leave in the first place are just going to hurt and they should just give up now, that they're obviously just delirious from lack of oxygen and should change out their Oxy-Chew, she has some spares in her pocket that they can use if they...
Oh, no.
And everything would come crashing down around Della in that moment. It'd click in a really ugly way for her- she's not on the moon anymore. She isn't.
And yet, she's still acting like she is. And has been the entire time- she stopped acting like 'Della' and she doesn't know when, but she realizes that every time something's happened since she came back she's first reverted to 'Moon Della' problem-solving than anything else.
And that'd be overwhelming in and of itself, and including the fact that the sun is glaring down overhead and the kids are staring at her like she's grown a second head (like she's been afraid of ever since coming back) the fact that she doesn't actually know if Scrooge will be alright or not and that's killing her inside (it would've been so much nicer if she could've grabbed him and loaded him on the Sunchaser as well) the fact that Donald is staring at her with that concerned look that she was sure she'd never see again (it's been so, so long)- it's all too much. She needs space.
So she runs away. Deeper into the deserted island, despite the cries of the rest of her family.
The episode would refrain from following Della in order to stick around with the kids and Donald. They all have some stuff to talk about after all, despite all of them being very worried about Della.
And they'd talk (I think they should all get to air out their grievances at their names at least a little), and hug, and try to decide what the next course of action will be. Most of them want to try and find Della, but Donald assures them that she'll be fine, and it'd be better to figure out how to get off this rock before they 'go and try to kidnap her to get her outta here' (He's still a little upset with her).
That being said, at least at the start all of them head out to go search for her as a group (and have a talk about how 'She's a lot different than you made her out to be'/'I don't think she's the same Della who left you behind'/'She really missed you'/'And I know you missed her too')
One by one, after they've said their piece to Donald (most of which are some variation of 'give her a break, she's been through a lot'), each member of the search party would fall back to the beach. They aren't getting anywhere, they need to get work, and they need to trust that Della will come back to them.
In the end it'd just be Donald and Louie, and Donald would mention something about how if Louie has something he'd like to say about the subject, it's okay if he wants to share it. Donald would be happy to hear it, even if it kinda hurts.
And Louie just shrugs and asks Donald what he would've said to them if he'd been there when Della returned. What he would've said if they'd had issues with her coming back and didn't know how to handle it.
Donald would say that he would've assured them that they didn't have to forgive her if they didn't want to. That just because she came back, just because she's sorry, just because she didn't want to hurt them, doesn't mean she didn't. And they're not required to forgive her- even if they do want her to be a part of their life.
And Louie would just say 'Then right back at ya. If you don't wanna forgive her, then don't. If you do wanna forgive her, then do. If it's more complicated than that, then let it be complicated.'
After that (and maybe a little bit of Donald hiding his tears) Donald would say that he should get back to the others to make sure they hadn't killed the hostage, but that he trusted Louie, and if he wanted to keep searching then he should.
Which Louie would do- and only a little bit after Donald left, he'd find Della. Alone in a small oasis, on her back, staring up into the sky.
Now going way back for a moment before continuing (you remember how I said this would bleed into 'how I'd change the show in entirety?'), something that'd be vaguely important to this scene would be a change to Glomtales.
Specifically (a 'canon change' that I've seen talked about on the internet before and gone 'ooh yes gimme' to) that Della didn't head out with the rest of the family on the adventure. Instead, she stayed behind with Louie while he was grounded- which would change a lot of the issues with Glomtales in my humble opinion.
It'd make it more interesting because it'd really hammer home just how alike Louie and Della are. Mainly by having her thwart his every escape attempt by always being one step ahead of him (because she knows the mansion, knows how she would attempt to escape, and knows the order she'd most likely do it in).
It'd also allow for them to have a talk in the Glomtales episode as well- because Louie pointed out in Timephoon that 'Hey, you did the exact same thing, you know' and it would have been really really great to have had Della be able to respond 'Yeah, I did. Look at how that turned out, kiddo.'
She would've sat him down around the end and explained why she was so insistent that he needs to not keep messing around in the way he has been (because it reminds her way too much of how her childhood was and that didn't exactly lead to a healthy outcome), definitely also accidentally pull back the curtain just a tad on the fact that she is not okay (which would lead to Louie mostly just being concerned about her instead of listening), and would allow her to say, specifically-'Your family will always try to be there for you. We will always gladly be your safety net. But having the best safety net in the world means jack if you refuse to use it. And if you keep going doing what you're doing, you might end up in a place where we can't reach you.' (Which, sidenote: I think is what they were attempting to get across in the show, but just kinda fucked up at.)
And largely Louie wouldn't really take what she said into consideration until The Richest Duck in the World, where he'd very quickly find himself in exactly the position Della described.
Anyways, all that said, going back to The Island. Louie finding Della, alone, not doing the greatest.
And Louie would do what Louie would do. He'd head over, lie down right next to her, and make some dumb quip, which she'd snort at and return. ('Seems a little difficult to stargaze in the middle of the day.' | 'Hah- after the moon, any 'starry night sky' on earth just looks completely blank.')
And they'd finally talk. Della would get to explain how she didn't see this coming, and how much that sucks. And Louie would be like well it's not your fault Lunaris is a conniving ass, but Della would shake her head. It's not that she didn't see this betrayal coming (well, she didn't, but honestly at this point in her life it wasn't much of a surprise), but how she didn't see- this. Herself. Breaking.
She never saw this coming. Maybe she just hadn't been looking, but she never could've believed that she'd break like this. That she'd carry this- weight around, even after the moon. (She'd escaped the moon, after all. She really thought she'd be able to leave it all behind.)
She was Della Duck, for crying out loud. She always claimed that nothing could stop her, and yet- here she was. Unable to move on.
And Louie would agree. She couldn't move on- not by herself, at least. But what was it she'd told him, again? 'Family was a great safety net, but only if you actually used it' or something like that?
There was no shame to be found in breaking sometimes. You couldn't be expected to keep moving forever, without any breaks, until the end of time. Hell, he broke all the time- and took breaks all the time too, which helped a lot.
And there was no shame in asking for help, either. In admitting that you cannot solve every problem on your own, that you can't see every problem on your own- sometimes stuff affects you in ways you'd never be able to catch on your own.
But she wasn't alone anymore. She had family. And she could break now (well maybe not now-now, since the world was kinda ending at the moment), let herself shatter. And they'd all be here to help her pick up the pieces.
Della would 100% be in tears by this point, and Louie would bust out the song for her and Della would finish it (because that's just a beautiful scene), and Louie would get to explain to her after she asks that Donald sang it to them every night when they were little.
And that would be what finally gets her up and ready to head back. Ready to talk to her brother again, to face the world.
So the two would head back to the beach, where the Sunchaser is still kind of in disarray (without Launchpad around, none of them know how to fix it quickly), though the Moonlander has managed to get the rocket in pretty much tip-top shape by this point.
The kids notice that Della's back first, and immediately run to give her a hug (she apologizes profusely to them for her 'episode' back there, and promises not to react so poorly to one should it happen again), then back off to let her and Donald talk again.
And, again, they're back to that- awkward stage. They've forgotten how to interact with each other.
Della makes an effort to resolve this by lightly punching him on the shoulder. 'You refused to tell 'em anything about me, but you sang my song for them every night, huh?'
And Donald would snort and bandy back. 'Well hey, it was a good song. ...And even if I couldn't manage to talk about you, I thought they deserved to know a part of you, at least.'
And finally (finally), it'd come crashing down for both of them. Della was back. Donald was back. After ten (well more like eleven but who's counting) long years, they were finally back together.
Cue the waterworks. They'd immediately launch into a hug that looked like they were trying to squeeze the air out of each other, blubbering unintelligibly all the while.
Then the scene would be cut short by a loud booming noise. Off hundreds of miles out in the distance, the large Moonlander mothership would be seen blasting up, up, up into space.
And they'd breathe a sigh of relief (and maybe a little disappointment from the kids). Apparently things had been resolved while they were away. Lunaris was retreating. They were okay.
And then the mothership would turn around. And everyone's stomach would drop.
And that would lead into the final (or maybe penultimate if I wanted to be really self-indulgent) episode of the arc, which would start with the end of the episode before the island- Lunaris's defeat at the hands of Scrooge (well really Glomgold, Gladstone, Fethry, and Mitzy). The group is celebrating, momentarily not paying as much attention as they should. Lunaris takes the opportunity to run back to the ship and launch it into space. Everyone's like 'ah damn, wish we hadn't let him get away, but still- a victory's a victory.' At least, until the ship turns and they realize that he's going to try and do a suicide run into the earth. Which is good for absolutely nobody.
And as they realized this, a battered Moonlander radio that had fallen out of one of the ships nearby would start blinking.
Back on the island, the group would be freaking out. What could they do? What was gonna happen? The earth was doomed, everything they did, everything they tried to do- all for nothing.
And Della would look to the fixed up Moonlander ship, steady her shaking hands, and move towards it. And Donald would notice, understand exactly what she was going to do, and immediately run to object.
And they'd have an argument that, while we never saw the first, mirrors the last fight they had before Della went up into space the first time. Which Donald would hint towards by saying stuff like 'I just got you back, I can't lose you again!'
But Della would manage to cut him off eventually. This time was different. She wasn't running away. She knew the risks, she knew that this probably wouldn't end well.
There'd be a whole argument of 'It's the only thing we can do! Would you really be willing to let the whole world die for one person?' 'Yes!' 'Then what about the kids?'
Complete silence.
Della would tell Donald that she knew what he'd pick. If it was between her or the kids, she knew who he'd choose, every time. Even if it would kill him each time. Hence why she wasn't making him choose.
She'd then look over his shoulder and ask the kids if they'd ever seen what the stars looked like outside of the city. When they'd mention that no, they hadn't, she'd offer to show them.
With strengthened resolve and clear minds, the group would all head into the ship and fly up, up, and up to go meet Lunaris's vessel.
But there'd be a complication. Maybe caused by the earth moving out of orbit, maybe just pure coincidence, but as the Moonlander ship made its way into orbit, it'd slowly get harder and harder to see. To navigate. Maybe Della was just cursed, or maybe some force in the universe just really hated her guts- the second time she rocketed up out of earth, she was greeted by another cosmic storm.
But this time would be different. It had to be different- her whole family (obviously much more important than the world) was relying on her now. So instead of waiting, instead of trying to brave it herself- she immediately flips on the radio and tries to hail someone who could guide her through the storm.
And back on earth, Scrooge would pick up the blinking radio and his niece's voice would come out of it. Tinny and slightly shaking, but still putting on a brave face. As she says 'Hey, so promise not to be mad, but I might need your help,' he'd realize what's going on. It's happening again. His going to lose his whole family. Again.
Except- it wasn't happening again. Because this time it wasn't just him and Della. This time Donald was there. And Beakley. And Webby, and Huey, and Dewey, and Louie and Fethry and Gladstone and Launchpad and even Glomgold for crying out loud!
It wasn't just two people acting like they were gods this time. It was a whole group, a whole family, with a mission.
Since the mothership touched down close to the Money Bin, Scrooge could quickly get the remains of the earth team to the long unused command module. A little bit of blowing off dust and very shoddy science, and they could get it working- mostly.
It was nothing fancy, nothing wonderful, but all their heads combined they could figure out a way to track the mothership through the cosmic storm, and lead the space team to it.
What would follow would be a bit of a cat-and-mouse game between the mothership and the Duck ship, with the cosmic storm acting as cover and sort of a mask for both ships. They'd both be flying blind- but the Ducks would have the earth team to guide them. (Mostly Scrooge and Beakley, though Gladstone, Fethry, and Launchpad would help as well- Glomgold not so much. He would be trying, though, and that's gotta count for something, right?)
And all combined, they'd manage to do a decent job! They'd deal significant damage to the mothership, especially when taking into account just how small their ship is in comparison.
But even with all of that, disaster would still strike. In the form of a lightning bolt from the storm getting a lucky shot and frying their systems, leaving them dead in space (it would be specified that it was only temporary, though- the Moonlanders had built in backup systems that'd take over should a cosmic storm fry them after Della told them her tale). Which would already be bad enough- and then the storm would clear.
Granted, that would bring momentary relief to Della (flying through it would not be comfortable for her for pretty much the entire time) it would quickly be replaced by dread. Because without the cover, without the engines- they're sitting Ducks. Lunaris would very easily end them.
Thankfully though, it would end very similarly to how the Moonvasion ended regularly: Penumbra would come flying in at the last moment (in the original Spear of Selene, no less) and blow up the ships engines, momentarily leading to a tense moment where it seems like she died- then she slams onto the window of the Ducks' ship, and it'd be okay.
For the space team, at least. When their systems were fried momentarily, they'd also lose the radio. So earth team -specifically Scrooge- would have to sit in anticipation and dread as it really did seem like everything was going wrong exactly like it did last time.
And then the radio would blip back on, the signal would come back, and the earth team would rejoice. Everyone would rejoice- the earth would get pushed back into position, the space team would land back at the mansion and everyone would get to have a 'We Just Successfully Averted the End of World and Nobody Died! Thank Fuck!' Party.
(And if I was being really self-indulgent -which I totally haven't been already- I would make the 'holy shit we actually made it' party it's own final episode, maybe with a little bit of the 'fighting the big bad mothership' part for the beginning.
It'd actually largely be after most of the other people had left or had passed out in one of the guest rooms, and would be a bit of a mirror to the first episode of the season- Game Night. But this board game night would be -relatively- more chill, and just a thing focusing on what the Duck-McDuck family does to cool down after a large adventure like that.)
So yeah that's like- a little bit of my tangent of 'How I Would Change Ducktales If I Wanted To Make It A More Dramatic And Plot-Heavy Show'
If you got this far I hope you enjoyed it (and I feel real sorry for you if you didn't)
TL;DR: I'd make it so that the Moonvasion finale was instead a final arc, and I'd make The Island a full episode in its own right. I'd also make it so that they fly up to meet Lunaris in a space fight right after The Island, leaving Scrooge and the other cousins to guide them through a cosmic storm
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I also noticed in my reread of the manga that the anime made Kikyo seem more powerful. In the manga Inuyasha easily parried Kikyo’s attack when she was first resurrected and chose to throw aside the sword to reason with her, and even got ready to strike her down and cracked his knuckles in order to bring Kagome back. In the anime he was easily overwhelmed by Kikyo and was only saved by Kagome waking up. I’m seeing Sunrise’s bias 🙄
And there's nothing wrong with making Kikyo seem more powerful. Inuyasha was constantly getting upgrades for Tessaiga without us as much as batting an eye over it.
The difference is that we were there when he found and got Tessaiga. We were there to see him struggle to master it. We were there for each and every single breakthrough. We know the how and we know the why.
Kikyo's power-ups, on the other hand, seem to come out of thin air most of the time. I'm sure she must have worked for it, but it wasn't shown, so there's a bit of a disconect between her journey getting there and the audience, which makes her achievements turn out to be not as satisfying as they could have been.
It's like, we know what the stabilished powers of a pristess are and so we think we know what Kikyo's powers are limited to, but then she does something new that doesn't fit that criteria and our only explanation is that she was the most powerful priestess of her time. Which makes sense, but also tells us that it's not important how she came to be so powerful, only that she is.
So why should we care when she uses a new trick? It's probably something she has known how to do for a while, anyway. We weren't rooting for her to get it right. We weren't anticipating it. We just roll with it.
The problem is that, in order to make Kikyo seem more powerful, Sunrise often gave her scenes where Kagome was originally the one kicking ass and taking names. And that's what I have issues with. Take this scene for instance:
Kikyo is the kind of character who doesn't do anything without a reason, so why would she interfere? She doesn't really knows Koga. She has probably no idea of his connection to Inuyasha — and even if she had, I don't peg her for comeone who'd care, considering how she treated Kagome most of the time. Koga is a demon with two jewel shards. Why help him out instead of taking them from him herself or waiting Naraku's incarnation finish the job to sweep in and do it? Because in the manga, Kagome is the one who saves Koga:
Which makes infinitely more sense and proves that there was no actual reason behind this "creative" change other than making Kikyo look cooler. The entirety of Sunrise's adaptation is full of these little shenanigans. Do you want to see a practical example of how this affects the general perception of the audience regarding the characters?
Here's Kagome diligently destroying a Naraku puppet to save an unconscious Kikyo. She actively uses the bow and arrow she didn't know how to shoot in the beginning of her journey to save someone she judges to be her love rival. And she suceeds without overthinking it or breaking a sweat.
But Sunrise thought it would be better to just do this instead:
The result? People naturally praise Kikyo for being the biggest girl boss in Inuyasha for stuff that was originally done by Kagome:
Don't get me wrong, it's great that people will appreciate Kikyo — this was exactly what Sunrise was going for, anyway — but it rubs me the wrong way that it came with the price of Kagome getting constantly criticized for being a "damsel in distress" who never does anything.
When your adaptation changes the story so much that people wrongfully perceives your female lead as useless despite the many, many scenes you still animated of her saving the day — and specifically saving the life of her supposed rival, who they judge to be much stronger and independent than her — that's when you know you fucked up.
And the worst part is that people are either blissfully unaware of this irony — because they haven't read the manga — or straight up dishonest about it.
The funny thing is: Kikyo didn't need any of that. What Sunrise did was the equivalent of taking original scenes of her being kind or compassionate and giving it to Kagome instead. It wasn't necessary. Kikyo was stabilished as a powerful woman from her very first appearance:
Kagome was the one who needed to prove herself in battle because she was the 15 year modern girl who was tossed untrained in the middle of a feudal era "life or death" situation. She was the one I wanted to see exploring and using her spiritual powers, because that's what her character needed to grow.
What Kikyo needed was humanization, glimpses of the ordinary woman she has always wanted to be. Empowerment is important, but it's also multifaceted and it falls flat when it focuses on power for the sake of power.
I'd gladly exchange any of those changes for scenes of Kikyo coping with taking a human life or using women's souls to stay on the world of the living. Scenes of Kikyo realizing she has become the very thing she used to fight against and how seeking for revenge affected the people she loves.
Scenes of Kikyo regretting decisions she can't take back, scenes of Kikyo bonding with Kaede both before and after her death, scenes of Kikyo acknowledging the part she played on the way her relationship with Inuyasha ended and apologizing for the hell she put him through over it.
That's how you make her character relatable and empathetic. That's how you highlight her complexities and makes her interesting. Kikyo being pretty while shooting arrows is absolutely stunning on screen, but it does little to create a truly emotional attachment to her character, at least for me.
As for the particular scene you brought up, Inuyasha was, in fact, easily overwhelmed by Kikyo in the anime. When she first attacks him, he just... lets her.
While in the manga, Inuyasha is quick to dodge it.
He does try to defend himself in the anime. However, Kikyo's arrow manages to stop Tessaiga's transormation and almost hits his heart.
None of which happens in the anime, where Inuyasha not only defends himself but also actively pushes back.
Sure, Kikyo still succeeds in zapping the hell out of him, but only because Inuyasha threw Tessaiga aside to reason with her, like you pointed out. When that didn't work, he cracked his knuckles in order to strike her down, before realizing he couldn't do it and then Kagome comes in with the save. In the anime, he didn't even try.
And the hug I mentioned, when he's attempting to appease Kikyo and she cries on his arms for a moment? Completely erased in favor of making her push her elderly sister aside twice and hurting Inuyasha more than originally intended while also referring to him as "beast", "monster" and "half breed."
I understand why Sunrise wanted to give Kikyo more screen time – she's a key character and people seem to have a good time drawing and animating her – but they focused mostly on making her look "cool" by kicking up a notch on the whole "vengeful spirit" thing and ended up shooting themselves on the foot by going too far.
They really thought the nonsense added scenes, like Inuyasha watching her bath or telling the audience they were always by each other's side – while actually showing them sitting far apart, Inuyasha being left to chase after the carriage she was in instead of being there with her, etc – would make up for the hug they cut out in order to give Kikyo more "badass" moments.
That's because they realized the couple had no substancy whatsoever and to remedy that, prioritized telling us that they were together for at least a couple of seasons instead of making the effort to show us this so called deep love. The hug was meaningful and made sense. Inuyasha dramatically laying on the ground while mentally screaming her name after telling her she needed to return the last piece of Kagome's soul – which is how Sunrise decided to end the episode – did not.
Especially because in the manga, he checked on Kagome before...
And after he left to try and get the remaining piece of her soul back – knowing what it would mean to Kikyo.
Plus, while obviously sad about Kikyo's "death", he also seems to accept this was for the best and acts like he is pretty much ready to move on.
Not to mention how he panicked when Shippo brought up the possibility of Kagome not being Kagome anymore and how absolutely relieved he was when he realized it wasn't the case.
And if this wasn't enough, he spent a good three panels blushing over Kagome right after the whole ordeal.
Those scenes had two purposes. One was to solidify, once more, Kagome as her own person to the audience and to Inuyasha, as well as a love interest. He had the opportunity to get Kikyo back and still wanted her to return the soul – even if it meant Kikyo would cease to exist – because he didn't want to risk Kagome not waking up or not being herself anymore, since he was already falling in love with her. Kikyo herself guilt trips him about it when he tries to convince her.
The other was to contrast Inuyasha's first reaction to Kikyo's ressurection and the information that they were both set up with his reaction after he was told that Kikyo died for him and therefore he owes her his life. The former consists on him standing up for himself and rightfully seeing himself as a victim, the latter consists on him blaming himself out of proportion based on a blalant lie. That's why in the manga he takes her "second" death so well, while the others really take a toll on him. In the anime, however, it's like he is already blaming himself when she falls off that cliff.
I attribute this change of attitude to another scene Sunrise thought fit to delete:
Of course the anime also has Inuyasha denying Kikyo's accusations, but he is way less effusive about it in there. Originally, when he realizes they were fooled into thinking they betrayed each other, he acts like they were both at fault for distrusting each other and are, therefore, even. So when she "dies" there's nothing he can do but wish for her to rest in peace and move on despite how sad it makes him.
All of this really sucks, because as you can see, the changes they did in favor of Kikyo either didn't work on her favor at all or heavily impacted the characterization of others – Inuyasha and Kagome especially – in a negative way, in addition to creating huge inconsistencies plot and narrative wise.
TLDR: yes, Sunrise's bias is obvious. And ironically, I think if they had liked Kikyo less, she would have been a much better written character because they wouldn't be afraid to give her the development she needed.
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