uncaaj - Tumblr blog

uncaaj · 6 days

Text

Fanfic: Double Babysitter (from Frisky and Rad's POV) (Bluey)

READ NOW ON AO3!

A vibrating sound turned Chilli Heeler away from her book and to her night stand. She grabbed her phone and tapped the new notification. Her ears drooped upon reading the distraught text from her friend Frisky. “Oh no…”

Her husband Bandit exited the bathroom, wiping his snout and slinging the hand towel over his shoulder. “So where do you wanna go for date night, babe?”

Chill shook her head and motioned her big blue toward the bed. “Bandit, Frisky broke up with Bosco.”

“What?” Bandit laid down next to her and skimmed through the ongoing conversation Frisky was sending pictures of. “I thought he was the one. He seemed like a stand-up guy.”

“Frisky thought so too. Apparently he was chatting up another girl at a barbecue last week who then told Frisky about it.”

“Ooh, bummer,” Bandit winced before shrugging. “Well, good riddance, I say. She’ll do fine without him.” He kissed Chilli and settled into his pillow.

Chilli set her phone where it was and nestled closer to her husband. “Eventually,” she said, wrapping an arm around Bandit. “I wanna help her, though.”

“Maybe babysitting the kids will cheer her up?” Bandit suggested.

“Didn’t your brother say he wanted to babysit this time?” asked Chilli.

“Oh, right, forgot. The kids love their uncle Rad.”

“Yeah, they do,” Chilli concurred. “He’s kind, strong, if a bit scatterbrained.”

“A lot scatterbrained,” Bandit corrected, and the pair laughed. “Don’t forget his propensity for jumping into pools.”

“But you’re all like that,” said Chilli, nudging Bandit with her elbow.

“Ha! I suppose. Yup, he’s a catch. Small wonder he hasn’t been snapped up yet.”

The pair let the warm night air and fluttering fruit bats outside start to lull them to sleep. Bandit rolled over to face Chilli and met wide eyes with a hint of mischief.

“Uh, babe?” he said, sitting up. “You’re making the ‘I have a plan’ eyes again.”

Chilli hesitated, but couldn’t help herself. “Okay, it’s crazy,” she said in a low voice, “But I may have a plan, and it’s called-“

+++

CHILLI: “This episode of Bandit is called ‘Double Babysitter.’”

+++

“Five min away,” read the latest text from Radley. Bandit locked his phone and grabbed the expensive cologne from the bathroom cabinet. “Are you sure this’ll work, babe?” he asked, spraying it on his neck fur.

“You never really know,” said Chilli, brushing her hair, “but my intuition’s never steered me wrong before.”

“I feel like I’m playing puppets with dolls I shouldn’t be playing with.”

“It’ll be fine, big fella.” Chilli placed her hands on his shoulders. “She was telling me last night she’d never try again. I want her to bounce back strong, okay?”

Bandit sighed. “Fair enough.”

“Plus there’s Lamingtons in it for you at the restaurant,” Chilli cooed, booping Bandit’s nose.

Bandit sniffed. “Well, you could’ve started with that!”

“Started with what?” asked Bluey.

The pair of Heelers looked down and there were their kids, as if by magic. They had a knack for it.

“Why does Dad smell funny?” asked Bingo.

“I knew it still worked.” said Bandit, making lovey-dovey eyes as Chilli rolled hers. Bandit knelt down to their level. “Me and your mum are going on a date, remember?”

“And your uncle Rad is on his way to babysit,” said Chilli.

Bluey slumped. “Oh yeah.”

“Don’t worry, kiddo,” Bandit encouraged. “You’ll have lots of fun.”

“I love uncle Rad!” said Bingo, her tail wagging. “He’s kind and funny.”

A screeching sounded outside startling everyone. A hollow plastic thump followed. They ran to the balcony, searching for the disturbance.

“Don’t worry, Chilli!” called Wendy Chow-Chow, who was lounging in her front yard. “Bandit, your brother’s here! And I’d see to your wheelie bins before the bin chickens do.”

“If a little reckless…” Chilli sighed.

Bandit felt a buzz on his hip and took out his phone. “Yeah, he’s here.”

Chilli waved. “Thanks, Wendy!”

+++

Radley Heeler twirled his keys in his hand and strolled up to the porch. He opened the door and peered inside. Not a soul was there to greet him, which gave him a funny idea. He snuck inside, carefully shutting the door behind him and tiptoed to the red armchair, pulling it out just enough so he could hide behind it.

Just as he settled in, his niece bounded down the stairs, cheering, “Uncle Rad’s here!” She threw the door open and met with an empty porch. “Hi, uncle Ra…where is he?”

Radley pounced on the little orange Heeler and hoisted her up into his arms as she squealed and giggled. “How ya doin’, Bluey?” he greeted.

“I’m Bingo!” said the pup.

Did he misremember? He was certain the blue one was Bingo and the orange one was Bluey. Radley held out the pup by her leg. “Really?”

“Yeah, that’s Bluey!” she laughed, pointing toward the inside. Sure enough, there was Bandit, Chilli and Bluey walking into view.

“Ah, yeah, ‘cause he’s blue,” Radley nodded.

Bluey stomped her foot. “I’m a girl!”

“Oh, yeah, I knew that.” Well, he did it again. Best to just go with it.

“Are you putting us to bed tonight, uncle Rad?” Bingo asked.

Radley gave a thumbs-up. “You bet.”

“Hooray!”

Bluey looked away. “Not hooray.”

Chilli smiled tenderly as Radley put Bingo upright on the floor. “Bluey isn’t sure about babysitter putdowns, uncle Rad.”

“Don’t worry, Bluey,” said Radley, kneeling down. “Who better to do a babysitter putdown than your uncle Rad?”

“Hello!” came a different voice.

“Frisky!” cheered the kids, as they ran and tackled an English Cocker Spaniel with a bag slung over her shoulder.

“Frisky, this is uncle Rad,” Bingo introduced.

Radley was flabbergasted. She was beautiful, and her coat gleamed in the rising moonlight outside. “Hi,” he said.

Frisky smiled. “Hi.”

“Frisky, have you met Bandit’s brother Radley before?” Chilli asked, snapping Radley out of his trance.

“Uh, yeah,” she said hesitantly. “Didn’t you fall in the pool at the wedding?”

Radley shrugged. “Probably.”

“Frisky is Bluey’s fairy godmother,” said Bingo.

“Sorry, Frisky,” said Chilli, “Uncle Rad got in touch last minute and said he’d babysit. You must’ve got my message.”

“Oh.” Frisky dug her phone from her bag and scrolled through her messages. “No, I didn’t get it.” She put it back and stepped toward the door. “That’s fine. Um…I’ll just go.”

Bluey and Bingo took hold of both her arms, stopping her in her tracks. “No! Don’t go!” Bingo howled. “Both babysit!”

“Oh, well a-as long as it’s okay with uncle Rad,” said Frisky.

Radley heard himself say, “Fine by me.”

“Hooray!”

+++

The Heelers saw everyone wave at them from the front yard, and they waved back as they peeled out of their driveway and toward downtown Brisbane.

As they reached the bottom of the hill they called home, Chilli said, “You gotta talk to Rad about his parking.”

“Yeah, I do,” he agreed. “Can we talk about your performance back there for starters?”

“I told you it would go well.”

“Sure did. I couldn’t believe how well that went.” The buildings grew taller and taller, and the lights brighter and more colorful as they passed behind them. Bandit swallowed a knot in his stomach. “This still all feels funny to me. You didn’t tell Frisky Rad was coming over, did you?”

“Yeah, I didn’t,” said Chilli. “Luckily, the hard part’s over. My work is done.”

“Yeah, maybe I’m worrying for nothin’. All you did was bring them together. Whether or not Rad or Frisky takes a chance is up to them.”

“I hope Frisky takes that chance. She can’t another breakup get in her way.”

Driving into a parking garage a block from their restaurant, Bandit looked around for a spot. “Honestly, I’m more worried for Rad,” he said, pulling into a spot nearby. “Sometimes the only hint he can take is the answer itself, if you get me.”

+++

“Why don’t you have a wife?” Bluey asked.

“Whoa!” This was the last first question Radley expected for their game of 20 Questions. “W-well, how do you know I don’t?”

“Do you have a wife?”

Radley looked down. “Well…no.”

“So why don’t you have a wife?”

It took everything in Radley to not tell Bluey the same thing he always told her Nana when she asked about his love life- 'I’m married to my job.’ “Uhhhhh, her turn!” he said, pointing to Frisky.

“How many friends have you got?” asked Bingo.

“Um…three?” Frisky answered. There was Chilli, her flatmate Cookie, Rollo Dachshund…

“That’s not many,” said Bingo.

“Why have you only got three friends?” asked Bluey.

When they put it like that, Frisky lost all her words. “Well, um…back to him!”

The kids turned back to Radley. “Why do we only see you at Christmas?” Bluey asked.

“‘Cause I work on an oil rig.”

“Is that why you don’t have a wife?”

“Oh! …maybe.” Gone every two weeks with meathead technicians and engineers who worked hard to ensure all systems were go, who went into crisis mode at the drop of a meter, and whose last thoughts were looking for romance amid the oil, heat, and back-breaking work? More like “definitely.”

+++

Bandit pat his belly as the Heelers exited the restaurant. “I ate so much, I feel like I’ve got a food baby in there.”

“You’re hilarious,” Chilli scoffed. “It was good, though, wasn’t it?”

“Sure was.” The nightlife in Brisbane drew the throngs of people in many directions, and one in particular caught Bandit’s eye. “How about some jazz?”

“One second,” said Chilli, stopping and retrieving her phone. “I’ll just call Frisky about the kids.”

The speeddial rang in her ear, and Frisky answered after a few seconds. “Hi, Chilli-dog,” she said in a quiet voice.

“How ya going, Frisk?”

“All good, kids are in bed. I’m just looking out on their balcony. It’s a beautiful night.”

Time for the big question. “How’s Rad?”

“Well, he’s…something. The kids love him.” Frisky fell silent after that.

“That’s it?” Chilli asked.

“Don’t worry about me,” Frisky reassured. “I know I can’t let this get me down on love, and I really appreciate you having me to watch your kids. But…I dunno. I’ll see you later.”

+++

Frisky hung up and slid her phone off to the side, returning her gaze to the shining stars above. As they twinkled, she imagined each one having a match for itself while she felt like the one with bits taken off from being separated so violently time and time again. Sooner or later she’d have no good bits left to latch onto, would she?

She heard creaking in the floor and blinked. She hadn’t even noticed how moist her eyes were. Radley was suddenly there, easing himself down next to her, his luscious orange mop top only slightly disturbed by the warm, gentle breeze. They stared at the night sky for what seemed like ages, content at first by only each other’s presence.

“So almond milk shampoo, eh?” said Frisky.

“‘Scuse me?” said Radley.

“Come on! Even without the ’20 Questions,’ a bloke like you couldn’t get his hair that plump without it.”

Radley chuckled as Frisky ruffled his fur. “I reckon not. My stylist Penny turned me onto a brand called Orchard Tree, and it’s been a game-changer. It’s the only shampoo I like.”

“The shampoo is great, but the conditioner? I don’t rate the conditioner.”

“Yeah, me neither. But you know, you can’t go around with open follicles.”

“Not a chance.” Frisky thought she heard covers ruffling behind her but when the rustling stopped, peace set in once more and she put it out of mind. “We have more alike than I first thought.”

“Yeah, the world’s kinda funny for putting two hopeless romantics down on their luck who use the same shampoo in the same place at the same time.”

The two laughed as quietly as they could and laid down on the deck. A kookaburra’s distinct call could be heard off in the distance. Whether it was a strange coincidence, or in some way the world was looking after Radley, he knew he couldn’t end this night without getting closer to Frisky. And that meant addressing something else nagging on his mind since the games they played earlier.

“I’m sorry, by the way.” he said gently.

“About what?” Frisky asked.

“You and this Bosco bloke.”

Frisky sat up and pulled her knees in close. “H-how do you know about that?”

Radley returned upright and faced Frisky. “I’ll admit I’m aloof but I’m not dense. That story we told the girls earlier wasn’t entirely made up, was it?”

Frisky sighed. “No. It wasn’t,” she said almost in a whisper, body slumping. “I don’t understand. Every time I think I’ve found the one, he winds up pulling a stunt like that, or I’m just left hanging like old washing.” She tried to keep her composure but felt her voice breaking with every word as the pain of Bosco’s cheating manifested itself again. “I…don’t know how many more times I can ‘give it another go’ before I run out of ‘gos’ to ‘give,’ you know?”

Radley scooted closer and put an arm around her shoulder. “I hear ya. I wish I could say I’ve been down as much as you, but…I haven’t.”

Frisky raised an eyebrow as him. “What? A model dog like you?”

“Yeah, can you believe it?” Radley joked, flexing his free bicep, before returning his gaze to the stars. “I dunno. I suppose it feels like I’m a puzzle, and I’ve got a piece missing in me, and I’ve been trying different things to fill the hole, but nothing’s felt like the right fit. But goodness knows I can’t think about that keepin’ an oil rig running.”

Frisky could sense the loneliness in his voice. “I guess not,” she said. A shooting star whizzed across the expanse before fluttering into darkness. It traveled along no matter where it was in the sky or how far it had left to go. Frisky willed that star to go as far as it needed to reach its destiny, and prayed for some of the same courage to be passed onto her.

“But,” said Radley, drawing her attention back to him, “if you’ve got one more ‘go’ to ‘give,’ in ya, I’m sure someday I can find my missing piece.” He locked eyes with her, forever reflected in his irises. “May even be closer than I think.”

She smiled back and patted him on his shoulder, feeling hard muscles under his pillowy fur. “We’ll see, Heeler. We’ll see.”

+++

“We’ll see” turned into a phone number exchange before Bandit and Chilli returned home, which turned into a few dates, which turned into a Christmas trip to Bali, which turned into a wedding in the Heelers’ backyard. For Frisky, this was the ‘go’ that went the distance and Radley finally found his missing piece. Even if she almost let him go due to him wanting her to move west with him, he affirmed that nothing would be more important than his family, the ones he already had and the one he was gaining.

After dinner, Chilli and Frisky were on the front porch laughing about memories when Frisky said, “You know what’s funny? I made a bet with Trix years ago about me getting hitched with a guy you introduced to me.”

“Oh, really?” Chilli asked hesitantly. “Well, you know Trix. She’s got bets with everyone.”

“Yeah,” she said, crossing her arms, “and she’s collecting tonight.”

Chilli startled, nearly spilling her drink. “Wha- You think I-?

“I’ve know you how long, Chilli?” said Frisky, “‘Double Babysitter,’ indeed.”

“I did not!” Chilli denied as Frisky rolled her eyes.

Bluey bounded in and plopped herself between them. “Frisky, you’re having a happy ending!”

“Well, we’ll see, won’t we, Bluey?” Frisky responded. But in her heart, she was sure. This princess had finally found her prince. Her true love.

#fanfiction #bluey #frisky bluey #radley heeler #bandit heeler #chilli heeler #bingo heeler #bluey heeler #trixie heeler #bosco bluey #romance #humor #radsky

6 notes · View notes

uncaaj · 20 days

Text

Three cheers!

We've been funded!!! 🎉🎉🎉 Thank you so much to you all for your help!! It truly means the world to me and I'm so excited to make these pins for you!! 💙✨🪩

There's still 6 days left to pledge!! Let's try to hit that sticker stretch goal too! Thank you!! 🥰🥰🥰 Link in pinned!

28 notes · View notes

uncaaj · 28 days

Text

Give my friend a hand, bring these pins to life!

The Kickstarter for my Disco Ball Pride Pins is now LIVE!! 🎉🪩✨🏳️‍🌈

I have 30 days to fund this project, and if you could help me make these pins a reality, I'd appreciate it more than you know! You can help me by liking, sharing, pledging, or donating!

(REMINDER: U.S. SHIPPING ONLY)

Thank you guys so much. I'm so excited to get started!! 💙🪩✨

80 notes · View notes

uncaaj · 1 month

Text

Thanks @gotapenname! Let's go!

Writing Patterns Tag Game

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there’s a pattern!

READ ALL MY FICS ON AO3!

1. Turnabout Union (DuckTales 2017 x Ace Attorney): “Ah, Mr. Crackwright,” said the secretary, tapping away at her dated computer. “They have you in Courtroom No. 4 today. I’ll call a bailiff to escort you.”

2. It's a Wonderful Life Starring Donald & Mickey (DuckTales x It's a Wonderful Life): As Donald Bailey stood there shivering, his hands squeezing the snow-covered railing of the bridge, he knew he needed a miracle.

3. The Switcheroo (Bluey): “Crumbed steak, I’m so late!” worried Bandit Heeler, frantically throwing stray papers all around his office.

4. Beast of a World (Beastars): My Zoo Balances no longer made the floor creak as I stepped down the hall.

5. Concert (Bluey): After Bandit Heeler blinked most of the sleepies away, he emerged from the house into the pink of the early morning, guitar case in hand.

6. The Triple Tandem Strike! (DuckTales 2017): The sliding glass doors parted, blowing the stale air of wood wax, burnt fluorescent bulbs, and haggis into the faces of Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera, Gyro Gearloose, and Fethry Duck.

7. Catchphrase (Bluey): Chilli Heeler opened the dishwasher and wondered why she ever got her hopes up.

8. The Meeting of Minds (PKNA/Duck Avenger):

from: [email protected] To: [email protected] Subject: I wish to collaborate.

9. Journeys (Bluey): “Yeah, we’re five minutes away, mate. Okay, see you then. Bye.”

10. Feedback (Bluey): Every morning right when he awoke, Bandit Heeler was on his phone, looking through any new notifications.

Conclusion: I tend to start with dialogue, or a scene establishment or character action that's attention-grabbing. I learned down the line that getting the reader's attention right off the bat is super important to compel them to read to the end, so I always like to create an opening line that drops you right in. I think movies have also influenced me to write like that as well.

Tagging: @felicianacariocapistoles @puck1919 @mighty-ant @rebellingstagnationblog @writebackatya anyone else that sees this and wants a go

Writing Patterns Tag Game

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there’s a pattern!

Tagged by: no one! I just wanted to! :D

1. Heart Stopper: The supermarket is never as empty as you would like.

2. Never Eat Anything That Could Compromise My Health (And Baby That Means You): When the portal ignites with Danny still inside, he feels like his every nerve turns to ash.

3. Skimming The Surface: "You are being incredibly difficult about this," Dipper deadpans, slamming his briefcase down on the table

4. The Tree, The Apple, The Seed: Algebra, Light mourns, is far below his mental grade level.

5. Ivy On A Chain Link Fence: "Darling, where are my—"

6. I Hold Hands With Cosmic Entities: Light—or as he is now known, Tsukikage—knows that he's different.

7. screamin' like a kettle on a stove (you cranked the heat up cold): Light stood in front of the shelves with a frown, a hood over his head and a sick mask over his face.

8. Get Your Gun, Fuck It Up: "You're sneaking out again?"

9. Supping On The Blood of God: Mikami has been staring at him.

10. Notre Dame: The building is small, but obviously new.

+Bonus 10 (draft edition bc I can't help myself)

RAPTURE: The world as Near tends to see it is blue.

Scorched: When everything is said and done, L Lawliet is one of the most powerful men in the world.

Nobody: The sky is gray.

Make Something of Me: Light swirls his spoon idly in his tea cup, watching the stalks inside bob and twirl listlessly.

Like A Loaded Gun (Ready to Backfire): The morning is bright and sunny.

I Love You So (I'll Eat You Whole): Beyond's life changes, as it always does, in a singular moment of eye contact.

Near Miss: Arataka lies in a hospital bed, and everything hurts.

What You Want: Arataka opens his eyes slowly, muggy.

This World is Cruel: The sky is gray with the smoke of a thousand fires.

Dig Up Bones In Your Sympathy: The last thing he remembered was light.

Conclusion: I tend towards shorter, simple sentences when beginning a story. Something to set the stage, either by telling the readers something about my main character's mind, or the world around them. First brushstroke, so to speak :3 Some are far more dramatic than others aha

Tagging: Anyone! Everyone! Free pass to say I tagged you! Because I am! Right now! :DDD

#fanfiction #bluey #ducktales #ducktales 17 #pkna #ace attorney #beastars #reblog

48 notes · View notes

uncaaj · 2 months

Note

New PKcomic by Sisti and Sciarrone who posted a preview in his insta is out in the recent Topolino issue! Hope we can get a scan of it to see and read!

Me too, it looks awesome! That's like the classic combo right there. Guerrini and Sciarrone are like my two fav Italian Disney Duck artists.

#aj answers #pkna #duck avenger #disney comics #duckverse

9 notes · View notes

uncaaj · 2 months

Note

Hey, I’ve noticed you’ve translated only Duck comics so far (and really well done), but I was wondering if you would ever consider translating Mickey Mouse Mystery Magazine?

Those comics are incredible, but everywhere I’ve looked, only about 3-4 issues out of like 12 have been translated into English and very poorly so, which baffles me since they’re not recent comics

This isn’t a request or a mean to pressure you, I’m just wondering if that’s something you’d consider doing. If not, that’s okay. Hope I’m not bothering you

Thanks for reading my scanlations! I've heard fantastic things about MMMM, even that some PKNA alums worked on it. The truth is I prefer to channel my limited scanlation energy towards PKNA at the moment. I'll never say never but it's just not in the cards for me right now.

Thanks for writing in, though!

#aj answers

4 notes · View notes

uncaaj · 2 months

Note

Do you do fanfic requests?

I can hear out your request but there's no guarantee I'll actually publish it. I'm pretty busy IRL but feel free to shoot me a DM or another ask

#aj answers

1 note · View note

uncaaj · 2 months

Text

The awesome art that inspired the fic

if you ever wanted to see Ace Attorney characters depicted as bird people, we got you covered

(@georgiarose and I love Ace Attorney as well as Ducktales (2017), so this kind of thing happens sometimes. Background and character sketches by me, finished character art and colors by Georgia. There's a bonus Mad Ducktor on our Instagram post, if you're into that)

#gyro gearloose #fenton crackshell cabrera #ducktales #ace attorney #ducktales 2017

247 notes · View notes

uncaaj · 2 months

Text

Fanfic: Turnabout Union (DuckTales 2017 x Ace Attorney)

Inspired by THIS post by @ravenconspiracy and @georgiarose

READ NOW ON AO3!

“Ah, Mr. Crackwright,” said the secretary, tapping away at her dated computer. “They have you in Courtroom No. 4 today. I’ll call a bailiff to escort you.”

The lawyer in the blue suit nodded. “Thank you.” It suddenly dawned on ace attorney Fenton Crackwright how much this felt like the first time, despite it being the hundredth time.

Opening the door to Defendant Lobby No. 4, he saw the first defendant he ever saved, a poor unlucky sap by the name of Drake Butz.

Fenton straightened his magenta tie and waved, “Good morning, Drake,” he said in a warming voice.

His client was slumped over the firm leather sofa, head in his lap, hands gripping his shaggy hair. “What good is it, really? She isn’t here, and once again, I’m the guy they pin it on.”

Fenton shook his head and walked over to his lifelong friend. “It doesn’t help when you have a history of breaking and entering, however noble it is.” He held his hand out.

“You know he’s gonna bring that up, first chance he gets!” Drake whined, taking Fenton’s hand and letting the attorney hoist him to his feet.

“I’ve handled Donald Payne before,” said Fenton, brushing down the wrinkles in Drake’s purple jacket. “There’s not a claim he can make that the Court Record can’t refute.”

“Or that you can’t bluff your way out of,” Drake pointed out.

Fenton brushed his long hair back with a nervous chuckle. “Or that.”

He never intended saving his case at the last second and bluffing on everything to be his signature strategy, but Fenton Crackwright’s cases required the kind of tenacity and perseverance that only he was capable of.

Fenton set a hand on Drake’s shoulder. “You know I believe in you to the end.”

Drake straightened up and smiled. “Thanks, Fen.”

Fenton backed away from Drake as his attention wandered around the room. The mahogany furniture, plain walls decorated with stuffy landscapes, and two bailiffs standing at attention carried an aura of importance. This place could make or break a person, entirely at the hands of two lawyers passionately presenting their facts to sway the judge.

“You know,” Fenton remarked, “I can’t help feeling some semblance of deja vu. It’s been such a long road to get here, with hurdles and detours, and grueling battles. Every murder is horrific, but somehow a murder case involving you almost feels normal.” Fenton turned around and flashed a nervous smile. “I hope you don’t think I’m minimizing your case.”

Drake shrugged. “I know my reputation precedes me. ‘When something smells’ and all that.”

“If you feel this is normal, Crackwright, I would suggest rising from your laurels.”

Fenton startled, sensing a ghost in the courthouse with a voice he hadn’t heard in months. He turned toward the lobby entrance and took a step back, eyes widening at the sight of what might as well have been a ghost. A tall lanky rooster in a magenta suit with a frilly cravat hanging from his neck walked gingerly inside, hands behind his back. His cold, tired face carried years its owner had not earned in the tradition of time, but had been burdened with through unfortunate circumstances.

“Fenton,” greeted Gyro Edgeloose.

Fenton cleared his throat, words sputtering in his bill. “Gyro! Y-you’re back!”

Drake’s bill dropped open. “Edgey?! Well, whaddaya know, the gang’s back together!”

“Wh-when did you get back into town?” said Fenton to his long-time rival.

The demon attorney looked away. “Last week.”

Fenton was knocked off his feet from shock. “And you never thought to tell me? Tell any of us?”

“I’m surprised Detective Launchpad didn’t shout it from the precinct steps,” Gyro remarked.

Fenton jumped up. “…you told Detective Launchpad first?!” His feet pulled him closer to Gyro as the words poured out of him. “Y-you disappeared for months! I could barely sleep most nights wondering if Edgeloose might turn up tomorrow!”

Drake shook his head and sat back at the bench. “I feel like I’m watching one of your mamá’s soap operas, Fentonino.”

Gyro crossed his arms and looked away, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, but you had no need to worry so rashly. I was merely undertaking some self-discovery.”

“That’s not what someone says after they disappeared without a trace,” said Fenton, slipping into his pressing voice.

Gyro rolled his eyes. “You’re being ridiculous. Have you learned nothing since I’ve been gone?”

Fenton was tiring of this. “I would sooner ask you the same question! What self-discovery journey leaves you just as closed off as before?”

“And you are still as emotional and distracted as before!” Gyro exclaimed, “We’re on opposite sides of the law, Crackwright! We have to face each other in five minutes time!”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t still care about you!” yelled Fenton, pointer finger outstretched. “Why can’t you open up to me?!”

The world flashed negative for a split second then all Fenton saw was the rooster, his enemy turned fellow truth seeker that abandoned him. Fenton knew what was coming next. The warmth of the jewel around his neck told him so. It just never failed to catch him off guard, at his most vulnerable. The chains only he could see whipped past him and wrapped around Gyro. Fenton steeled himself as the last piece of the puzzle slammed into place.

The Psyche-Lock he had yet to crack. That was why.

Fenton rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You frustrate me, Gyro. We’ve known each other forever…we put the people behind both our demons behind bars…and yet you still remain closed off to me.”

Gyro rubbed his arm, looking away. “Then why don’t you? Get it over with and break me down like I know you want to?”

Fenton paused. He had never been more sure of what he needed to say than this moment. “Because I don’t have the evidence I need right now. In court and in life, it’s all we have to change minds. But I swear to you that whether you want it or not, I’ll be there for you. We’ll meet in these walls and outside until I have what I need to truly understand you. However long it takes.”

The air between the two lawyers hung there for a moment. Fenton much preferred this over flying by his seat in the courtroom. He didn’t need to grasp at straws, didn’t need to flounder above water to maintain his case. Here, with Gyro, the pressure was off and they could just be.

“You helped me find the truth,” Fenton said, “You can’t go through life alone anymore.”

Gyro adjusted his stance with a long, wet sigh. “Once again, you’ve saddled me with unnecessary feelings…feelings that I can’t deny or admit I dislike. Feelings that are against all I’ve been taught to believe. The truth isn’t human like we are.”

Fenton smiled and closed the gap dividing them. “That’s what’s beautiful about it, about us. Truth changes us.”

“You may be right, Fenton,” said Gyro, “How did you grow so much unlike me?”

“You rubbed off on me, Gyro,” said Fenton. “You changed me. Maybe I can return the favor someday.”

“Defendant!”

The wood of the defendant lobby returned to view. Both lawyers blinked and turn to the source of the voice.

“Court is about to begin,” barked the bailiff. “Please make your way inside the courtroom.”

Returning their gaze to each other, they realized how close their beaks were from meeting with a start. Fenton stepped backward with a nervous chuckle.

“Think about it, Gyro. It can start as simple as you’d like. With burgers, even.”

Gyro chuckled despite himself and returned the smile that continually served to humanize him. “I will consider your offer.” With that, the prosecutor took his leave.

“Good luck, Gyro!” Fenton called. “But not too much.”

Gyro chuckled as he opened the door. “Same to you.”

+++

“All rise!” echoed the bailiff’s voice. All voices quieted down and each member in attendance rose to their feet. “The Honorable Judge Scrooge McDuck presiding!”

A duck with sideburns emerged from a door placed high above the courtroom floor. The only sound bouncing around the hallowed walls was his footsteps, hidden by his flowing black robe. He took his seat and took hold of his gavel.

“Thank ye,” he said, “Be seated, everyone.” With the crack of his gavel, all in attendance returned to their seat, except for the two lawyers placed at either side of the foot of the judge’s pedestal

“Court is now in session for the trial of Mr. Drake Butz,” said the judge. “Mr. Edgeloose, I understand you were brought in at the last minute to replace Mr. Payne. Are you ready for what’s to come?”

Gyro cleared his throat and addressed the judge. “Nonetheless, I am happy to be back, and you can rest assured…” He looked toward Fenton, features hardened with determination. “The prosecution is ready, Your Honor.”

That look told Fenton everything he wanted and needed to know. His new adventure with his former rival was now under way, and he was prepared to face whatever it would bring. As long as Gyro Edgeloose was by his side, the path to truth was always clear.

“Very well,” said the judge. “Are you prepared, Mr. Crackwright?”

Fenton nodded. “The defense is ready, Your Honor.”

#fanfiction #ducktales #disney ducks #duckverse #ace attorney #gyakuten saiban #gyro gearloose #fenton crackshell cabrera #drake mallard #scrooge mcduck #donald duck #judge #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #larry butz #fenro #enemies to friends to lovers #one shot

19 notes · View notes

uncaaj · 4 months

Text

Fanfic: It’s a Wonderful Life Starring Donald and Mickey Chapter 2: A Formative Childhood

CHAPTER 1 | chapter 2 | MORE COMING SOON...

READ NOW ON AO3!

“We’ll need to send someone down immediately. Whose turn is it?”

“It’s the mouse’s turn again.”

“Ah, Mickey. Hasn’t earned his wings yet, has he?”

“Because he has the IQ of a rabbit.”

“But he has the faith of a child. Send for him.”

“You sent for me, sir?”

“Yes, Mickey. A duck down on Earth needs our help.”

“Oh boy! Is he sick?”

“Worse. He’s discouraged.”

+++

The tollbooth door burst open and a surge of cold air nearly knocked the two ducks and the mouse off their feet.

Mickey scrambled to his feet and brushed snow from his gown. “Gee, you don’t have to make a fuss about it.”

Donald rose up. “What was that?”

“You’ve never been born, Donald,” said Mickey. “You don’t exist. You don’t have a care in the world.”

Donald’s eyes widened slightly, and he got up close to Mickey, pointing at his left side. “Say something in that ear.”

Mickey crouched slightly and whispered, “No $8,000 to get. No Pete Potter looking for you with the sheriff.”

Donald stepped back. “Well, I’ll be doggoned,” he breathed, “I haven’t heard anything from that ear since I was a kid and I fell into the river.”

“Our clothes are dry too,” Mickey pointed out.

“Huh,” Donald remarked. “Stove’s better than I thought. Well, get dressed. We’ll stroll to my car and- er, that is, I’ll stroll, you fly.”

Mickey tossed him his jacket. “I can’t fly. I haven’t got any wings.”

Donald caught it and suddenly felt like a dope. “Yeah, that’s right. You haven’t got your wings…”

+++

“Who’s that?”

“That’s your problem, Donald Bailey, when he was 12 years old.”

Donald, bundled up snug and tight, stood at the bottom of a great hill, surrounded by friends. At the top of the hill was another duck equally as bundled. She clutched a sled in her mittens.

“And here comes the scare-baby, my kid sister, Della Bailey!” Donald announced.

“I’m not scared!” Della retorted, stomping her foot. She set the sled down and after a breath, scooted her way past the edge before gravity took over. The kids cheered as Della rocketed down the hill. Some jumped out of the way as she whizzed past and onto the frozen lake behind them. She didn’t slow as she passed the marks the other kids set for themselves on their runs, and sunk into the thin, crumbly ice at the bend. The kids gasped as Della sunk into the freezing water below.

Donald ran after her and dove onto the ice, sledding toward his sister like a penguin. He dove in after her and hugged his arms around her. When he surfaced, he felt no chill. His racing heart kept Jack Frost at bay.

“Make a chain gang!” he called to the crowd of friends standing there. They jumped into action and laid themselves out into a chain stretching from the chilly water to a snowbank far away from the lake. Donald hugged Della tight as his friends pulled them both to safety.

“Donald saved his sister’s life that day. But he caught a bad cold which infected his left ear. Cost him his hearing in that ear.”

“Golly.”

+++

“What’s the matter?” Mickey asked.

Donald stood next to a tree, thick and strong, like any other in town. It seemed he expected to be in a state other than it was at that moment. “This is where I left my car.”

“You have no car,” Mickey said.

Donald tapped his foot. “Well, I had a car and it was right here. I guess somebody moved it.” Looking to the left, Donald spotted a panhandler trudging past. He jogged over and waved to the hunched drake wearing tattered layers. “Excuse me! Do you know what happened to my car? I crashed into that tree there, cut a big gash in the side.”

The old drake adjusted his Pince-Nez glasses and squinted to where Donald looked. “Oh yeah. Oldest tree in Pottersville.”

“Pottersville? Y-you mean Bedford Falls.”

The old drake sniffed. “Bah! You think I don’t know where I live? Come off it!”

Donald scoffed and began to walk away. “I dunno. Either I’m off my nut or he is. Or you are!” He said, pointing to Mickey.

The angel held his hands up. “It’s not me.”

“Hold the phone!” Donald said. The face of that drake…so familiar yet so withered. His stained lab coat, and his eyes once full of wonder, now hollow. Donald dashed back to the worn drake, his employer in a bygone age. “Dr. McDuck!” he called. “It’s Donald Bailey! Don’t you know me?”

He didn’t realize he grasped the homeless, downtrodden pharmacist by his coat until Dr. McDuck shoved him away. “Leave me alone! I know no such man!” shouted the doctor, bathing Donald in whiskey breath. As he waddled into the night, he cursed Donald in his rough Scottish accent.

Donald could only stand in disbelief as his first mentor in business blended into the snowy background, cold to him and to all.

He heard Mickey’s crunched footsteps approach and looked to the angel for answers. “Th-that’s Dr. McDuck, the druggist!”

“Remember,” said Mickey, placing a hand on Donald’s shoulder. “You were never born. You weren’t there to stop McDuck from poisoning that Blaine child.”

“Whaddaya mean, I wasn’t there?” Donald exclaimed. “I remember it distinctly…”

+++

“Donald!”

“Yes, Dr. McDuck?”

“I don’t pay you to be a canary!”

“No, sir.”

Young Donald Bailey watched his employer stumble into the backroom of his drug store. He could smell the whiskey trailing the old drake like a thundercloud hanging over as McDuck disappeared from view, shutting the door loudly behind him.

Donald shook his head and turned back to his post, the cash register and soda fountain. An open telegram on a shelf nearby caught his eye and he took it and looked inside. As he read it, Donald’s heart welled up in empathy for his poor boss.

“What does it say?”

“We regret to inform you that your son, Robert died very suddenly of influenza. Everything possible was done for his comfort.”

“Oh my goodness.”

Donald set it down and looked toward the back room. Dr. McDuck could really use a friend right now.

He carefully opened the door and walked toward the drunk doctor, dodging shelves of glass pharmaceuticals. He was muttering frustrated Scottish and cramming capsules into a box as if they were jumping out intent on not going inside it.

“Anything I can do back here, Dr. McDuck?” Donald asked meekly.

“No, lad,” McDuck grunted, the capsules slipping through his fingers and dropping to the floor like plastic raindrops. Donald helped him collect them and package them properly before he was waved away. Before he left the doctor, he couldn’t help but notice the bottle on McDuck’s worn desk. It must be what he used for the capsules. Donald’s stomach dropped. The label said “POISON.”

“You want to do something for me?” asked McDuck, shoving the box into Donald’s arms. “Deliver these capsules to Mrs. Blaine’s. She’s waiting for them.”

Donald looked to the poison bottle then to his boss, graying sideburns disheveled. “Yes, sir,” he said, “They have the diphtheria there, haven’t they? I-it’s a charge?”

“Good lad.”

“Dr. McDuck, I…w-well-“

“What are you waiting for? Get going!”

Donald nodded. “Yes, sir.”

+++

“But you didn’t deliver the capsules, did you?” Mickey asked.

“No,” said Donald, shoving his hands in his coat pockets as he paced around. “I…got caught up in a conversation with my father. I thought he could help me make a decision. I didn’t mention it but in the end, I returned the box to Dr. McDuck. And boy, was he grateful.”

+++

“Where’s Mrs. Blaine’s capsules, lad?!”

Dr. McDuck had Donald by the scruff of his shirt and was shaking him. “What tricks are you playing?! Don’t you know that boy’s very sick?!” He wound up and struck Donald on the left side of his face.

“Sir, please! That hurts my sore ear!” Donald cried.

Dr. McDuck growled and slapped Donald again, wrenching the box from his hands. “Lazy loafer!”

“Y-you don’t know what you’re doing!” Donald sobbed, frantically defending himself through tears and lashings. “You put something bad in those capsules! You got the telegram and you’re upset! It’s not your fault, Dr. McDuck! Please don’t hurt my ear again!”

The lashings slowed and the old doctor stepped back as the weight of his misdeed crashed upon him. He threw himself upon the desk and grasped the bottle. His eyes fell upon the skull and crossbones label. Wrenching the box open and popping a capsule, he tasted the medicine, then spit it out when the bitter taste confirmed his fears. He then looked to Donald again, scared and crying, and saw the face of the poor boy he almost killed. It then morphed into his own son, suddenly departed, frightened at the near damning of his papa’s soul.

The shame he felt attacking such a noble boy wracked him with a guilt that burned as much as the poison on his tongue. Dr. McDuck began to weep as he wrapped his arms around Donald and the two shed tears together.

+++

“I promised over and over not to tell what happened that day, and I still haven’t…” Donald turned back to Mickey, who was listening intently with every word he said. “Well, you say you know everything about me? They must’ve told you that.”

“Yes,” Mickey admitted, “But you tell it with so much more passion. That’s what happens when you live it. But it’s different here.”

“Yeah, go figure. McDuck still has his drug store. What’s he panhandling for? His pride wouldn’t dare let him.”

“Here he spent 20 years in jail for poisoning Mrs. Blaine’s kid,” Mickey answered, “and he emerged a broken man.”

All because here I don’t exist? Donald questioned to himself. Surely he was not so easily removed form his own story like this. “N-now look here, who are you?”

Mickey was taken aback. “Huh? I said I’m your guardian angel.”

“More like a hypnotist! You’re making me see these strange things!”

“Don’t you get it, Donald?” Mickey implored, “It’s because you were never born.”

Donald grasped at any sense of self he had left since it was so casually wrenched away from him. “Then if I was never born, who am I?”

“Nobody. There is no Donald Bailey. You have no cards, no licenses, no insurance policy-“

Donald feverishly turned his coat pockets inside out at each mention of his belongings. “Right, and I suppose next you’ll tell me-“

“Yup,” Mickey nodded, “Your kid Louie’s petals aren’t there, either.”

Donald froze, hunched over and knees knocked, resigned to staring at Mickey with awe and horror.

“You’ve been given a great gift, Donny,” said Mickey gently. “A chance to see what the world would be like without you.”

Donald’s breathing intensified, and soon he began walking away in a stupor. “I…th-this is a funny dream I’m having…so long, Mick, I’m going home.”

Mickey began to chase Donald. “What home, Donald?” he called.

“Shut up!” Donald shouted, running at a full clip. “You’re screwy! I’m going home, and I’m gonna see my wife and family! Alone!”

Mickey slowed as Donald vanished into the night. He sighed and turned his head to heaven once again. “How am I doing?” The sky twinkled its response and Mickey nodded. “Thanks.” Mickey looked back to the spot where Donald left him behind. If he was ever going to earn his wings, he had to catch up to the duck and fast.

#ducktales #fanfiction #donald duck #disney ducks #mickey mouse #it's a wonderful life #scrooge mcduck #louie duck #duckverse #christmas

10 notes · View notes

uncaaj · 4 months

Text

Long live DUno! Thanks for the shoutout, you wrote an outstanding fic!

Gift

This is part of series of connected PKNA/Donuno -oneshots, that I'm slowly starting to translate. I'll eventually drop the whole thing in AO3, but consider this as a Christmas present!

This short fic takes place right after PKNA #13: The Darkest Night (you can find it on Tumbrl; try @uncaaj).

****

On his way back to Duckburg from Bravestone, Donald felt tired, fatigued and irritated. That the Evrons had the gall to choose Christmas night out of all nights to attack a peaceful little town… And to top it all, when Commander Westcock had finally waltzed in – being fashianably late, like he was some big shot...! – then, as a reward for all his troubles, the man had dared to treat him with such an aggressively overbearing manner that even now it made Donald to grit his teeth.

“Nothing I do is ever enough, right?”

‹…Are you talking to me, Duck Avenger?›

“Ah… it was nothing, One. I'm just a little tired.”

‹Then rest. I can pilot the Duckmobile on remote control.›

The offer was certainly tempting. Tomorrow there would be an early wake-up call, when the boys would rush downstairs to open their presents, and right after breakfast they would have to go round to Grandma's for Christmas dinner.

“Well, if you’re sure you don't mind...”

‹Why would I? Even heroes need to sleep sometimes, you know.›

“This hero would need a couple of months or a year to catch up on his sleep deprivation”, Donald yawned as he wrapped his cape around himself and took a more comfortable position in his pilot's chair as the green indicator light on the dashboard lit up as a proof that the remote control was turned on.

‹I'm afraid that I can't offer you such a long nap, but would half an hour be okay for the first aid? I'll wake you up when we arrive to the Duckburg.›

“Thank you, One.” He leaned his head against the headrest of the seat and let his tired eyes fall shut. “Oh, and sorry.”

‹Why so, hero?›

"I didn't find anything to buy you for a Christmas present," Donald answered with a bit of a grimace. "I'll try to come up with something after the holidays... but my funds are hardly enough for anything very fancy, let alone your biggest wish."

‹My… what?›

“You know”, Donald insisted with a worn wave of his hand, “that something that you wouldn't be able to buy even if you had all of Ducklair's possessions at your disposal.”

‹Oh… that.› One chuckled, sounding oddly fond… well, not all that odd, actually; the AI was little by little starting to behave much more human than what Donald had first thought he was even capable off, or what One himself was willing to admit. “No need to worry about that, Duck Avenger… You already gave it to me – or part of it, at least.›

Donald's heavy eyelids fluttered open. “What?! I did? When?”

‹When you said we were friends.›

He did remember it: One puzzled expression and slightly widened eyes as the AI demanded confirmation from him of what he had just said.

“I do not understand…”

He could hear a smile in One's voice as he answered: ‹You do understand, hero. You just need time to process.›

Indeed. As Donald turned One's words over in his tired mind, the pieces slowly fell into place, and he suddenly felt heat on his face. "Was… your great wish just that? a friend?”

‹It’s definitely a large part of it›, One admitted. ‹And there’s nothing “just” in it, either. I'm afraid that without your, erm, inspiring company I might well have end up losing my mind, just like happened to my poor brother Two… although I do believe I could do with a little less of your questionable humor.›

“Aww, One… I didn't know you were such a sentimental type of a person!” Donald cooed with a teasing voice to hide his own affection. Did he really mean that much to One – him, Donald Duck, the hot-headed klutz, and a golden child of misfortune?

The AI sighed heavily. ‹I guess I made a mistake telling you this, didn't I?›

“There's no reason to feel embarrassed! I think that was an adorable thing to say, you big, green dork!”

‹Please stop.›

Donald grinned and relaxed again against the back of his seat. In a way, he would have liked to tease One a little more – after all, the AI never let pass any change to tease him – but on the other hand, One was in control of the Duckmobile right now, and the smooth ride could quickly turn into a bumpy one if his partner got irritated enough.

“Okay, okay; I’ll let it slide. But it was still really sweet.”

‹Bah.›

“And despite all that, I'm still going to buy you a present, so don't get too fussy about it. That's what friends do.”

One was silent for a moment. ‹If that’s the case, then I must give you something too.›

Ouch. And once again, his wit had come back to bite him on the ankle. “You have already given more than enough”, Donald hastened to assure. “The Duckmobile, the Extransformer Shield, the secret base at Ducklair Tower… not to mention all the delicious snacks you've made for me.”

‹If giving gifts is, indeed, a part of friendship, then it also applies to me›, One countered, with a serious tone of voice that clearly accepted no arguments. ‹But now, you really need to rest. I'll wake you up once it’s time to get out.›

“I trust in it”, Donald said with a yawn and curled up in his seat. “I trust in you…” he mumbled, before mechanical whirring and light rocking of the Viittamobile's lulled him into the land of sleep.

Through his dream he could hear One’s familiar voice sighing, ‹What wouldn’t I do for you, hero…?›

****

A few days later, Donald gave One a framed autograph of Duckie Starry, the shining star actress of Anxieties, who had been more than happy to hand one for her hero Duck Avenger. The AI had clearly been delighted by the present and then squirmed awkwardly as he offered Donald his own gift: a vintage miniature model of the flagship of the original Star Battles trilogy.

‹It’s nothing special… I don’t know all that much about your interests outside of work…›

“Are you serious?! No way, I love it!” Donald blurted, genuinely amazed. “I don't understand how you even got your hands on this! I thought these would cost a fortune -” he broke off, giving One a hard stare. “…You didn't pay crazy sums for this, did you?”

One smiled shyly. ‹Not at all. I got my hands on several broken models cheaply and assembled this from their parts. I understand it means that this model’s monetary value is about non-existent -›

“Who cares?” Donald said and gently hugged the model to his chest. “I will treasure this forever! I remember how I used to beg my grandmother and uncle Scrooge to by me one of these when I was just a little chick…"

‹And you didn't still get it?›

Donald snorted. “From Uncle Scrooge's point of view, miniature models are just a waste of money, and my grandma, on the other hand, thought that I would just have broken it right away – which, admittedly, is probably quite true. I used to be a little rascal back then…”

‹I could argue that you're still quite a rascal on this day›, One pointed out with a grin.

“Haar haar. Which one of us was the noisy brat who keeps eavesdropping on our neighbors, again?” Donald purred back.

‹I solemnly swear that nowadays I exclusively limit such actions to our dear friend Angus Fangus.›

“Ah, well then. He’s a special case, after all”, Aku laughed. “Okay, work calls. May I have my outfit, One?”

‹Of course, hero. Would you like me to prepare a little snack for you after you return from the scout tour?›

“I certainly wouldn't mind if you had a couple of sandwiches waiting for me by then.”

‹It's a deal.›

Little later Donald, now all suited up, climbed into Duckmobile and waved his hand to One, who had followed him to the underground hangar in one of his smaller and more mobile forms. “See you soon!”

‹Good luck. Bread and tea will be waiting upstairs when you're ready.›

Donald smiled. Being the Duck Avenger had always been an awesome experience – the danger, the excitement, the adrenaline rush pulsating in his veins – but it was all made even better by a friend at his side; someone whom he could trust, who helped and supported him and, when necessary, even patched up the wounds he received during the nightly ventures.

I wasn’t any lesser as a hero before I met One, Donald thought, and if necessary, Duck Avenger could definitely survive without him again…

…but even still, now I really hope there will never be a day when he no longer stands by my side…!

#pkna #duck avenger #donald duck #duno #uno

30 notes · View notes

uncaaj · 4 months

Text

Bit of art to go with the story

Back in June I got the idea for an It’s a Wonderful Life AU with Donald as George and Mickey as Clarence. In December I started a doodle page for it, and now two months later it’s finally done.🙃

I’ll probably draw more for it once it’s the right season again, but until then, have this.

37 notes · View notes

uncaaj · 4 months

Text

Reblog because I've expanded this off the back of more amazing art @daamazingmeepers has shown me. And you can read it on AO3 now!

Fanfic: It’s a Wonderful Life Starring Donald and Mickey Chapter 1: Donald Bailey's Darkest Hour

TRIGGER WARNING: Suicidal thoughts

READ NOW ON AO3!

Special thanks to @daamazingmeepers

As Donald Bailey stood there shivering, his hands squeezing the snow-covered railing of the bridge, he knew he needed a miracle. He was sure a lot of other people thought he needed one too. A small part of him hoped a few of those people were praying for him right now. But he couldn’t see or hear them out this far. All he could hear was the roaring river 20 feet below, and all he could see was his entire world caving in.

His business was sunk with no hope of recovery. He had alienated and frightened his family. His reputation was ruined, and he was a fugitive from the law. There was no way out this time.

Except…the way out.

Shards of ice bobbed violently in the surging water. A snowdrift broke off the shore and was tossed about for a moment as it melted into the river. You’d have to be an excellent swimmer, and even then, you wouldn’t have a marshmallow’s chance over the Yule log, Donald figured.

But was this really it? Were all his life’s ambitions over like that snowdrift? All his hard work, generosity and sheer dumb luck paid off like this? How cruelly ironic.

Donald closed his eyes and hunched over the rail. The end had come. It was all a waste. It was time to put himself out of his years of misery. It would be the best Christmas present his community could receive.

“AAAAAAAAaaaaaaah…!”

SPLASH!

Donald’s eyes snapped open and he looked down.

“Help, help!” cried a voice below, piercing through the icy cascade.

Against his darkest thoughts, against all that had happened tonight, against the hopelessness, Donald stripped off his coat and did what he had always done his entire, miserable life: he put himself aside and dove in to help.

+++

Donald sipped at a steaming mug of coffee, begging for his shivering to stop. He and the mouse he’d saved against the odds he’d built up moments before were stripped to their innermost layers, the rest of their clothes left to dry on a line next to a burning stove. The mouse pulled a book from the line and shook icy water from it. “Tom Sawyer’s drying out too,” he said, flipping through the pages. “You should read the new book he’s writing right now.”

Donald didn’t acknowledge the mouse in the flow nightgown, instead turning to the tollbooth keeper who had graciously allowed them to warm up in his booth. “Thanks again.”

He adjusted his stocking cap and smiled. “No problem,” he said before pointing to the mouse. “How’d you fall in?”

“Ha-ha! W-well, I didn’t fall in,” said the mouse, returning the book to its perch. “I jumped in to save Donald.”

Donald looked up, surprised. “You jumped in that frozen river to save me?”

“Well, you didn’t go through with it, did ya?” said the mouse.

“Go through what?”

The mouse looked at Donald intently. “Suicide.”

It was the tollkeeper’s turn to look aghast. “Suicide’s against the law around here!” he breathed.

The mouse nodded. “It’s against the law where I come from too.”

“Where’s that?” asked Donald.

“Heaven,” said the mouse.

“What a hoot,” Donald sneered. “Be serious.”

“I am serious, Donald.”

Donald was taken aback. “H-how do you know my name?”

“I know everything about you. I’ve seen you grow up from when you were a duckling.”

Donald gulped. “That’s comforting. What are you, a mind reader?”

The mouse stood tall. “Angel Second Class, actually. The name’s Mickey Odbody.”

Donald blinked, then rubbed his temples. “Cripes, I wonder what Launchpad put in my drink. Pleasure to meet you, I suppose.”

Mickey took Donald’s held out hand and shook it. “Likewise.”

Donald wrapped the blanket tighter around him and chuckled. “Angel Second Class, huh? What’s that mean? You’re light on wings for an Angel.”

“That’s the thing,” said Mickey, “I haven’t earned my wings yet. That’s why I’m Second Class. I’m your guardian angel nonetheless, and the best mouse for the job.”

“Figures I’d get a guardian without wings,” said Donald bitterly. “How does an angel Second Class get his wings?”

“By helping you.”

“Well, do you have $8,000 to spare? I’ll take pennies, nickels, or Comanche wampum.”

“Very funny,” Mickey grumbled. “And money doesn’t have much use in heaven.”

Donald scoffed. “It’s got a lotta use here, bub. Too bad I’m worth more dead than alive.”

“Come on, Donald,” Mickey chastised, placing his hands on his hips. “I’m not gonna earn my wings with that attitude. Why, if you only knew all that you’ve done-“

Donald stood up and beat his fist on the table. “Oh, knock off the angel bit, ya big palooka! You don’t know me! I haven’t done anything with my life! That’s why I was on that bridge when you took your dive! Heck, my wife, kids, and my friends would be just dandy without me! So why don’tcha go and haunt someone else?!” Donald sat down again in a big huff.

A moment passed before Mickey came up behind him. “Do you know how ridiculous you sound right now? You really think killing yourself would make everyone feel happier?”

Donald felt as if he were being scolded by his own father. He cowered slightly and mumbled, “I dunno. I guess you’re right…I suppose it would’ve been better if I hadn’t been born at all.”

Mickey leaned an ear closer. “What’d you say?”

“I said I wish I’d never been born!” Donald shouted, the frustration that had built up his whole sorry life put into that one sentence.

Mickey gasped. “Don’t say things like that! Like I said-” The mouse paused and thought for a moment, then suddenly struck his palm with his fist. “Wait a minute! What an idea!” He looked up to the heavens. “Whaddaya think?” he said in a low voice. No one seemed to answer but the angel nodded anyway. He turned back to Donald and declared, “Okay, Donald, you’ve got your wish. You’ve never been born.”

#donald duck #fanfiction #ducktales #mickey mouse #duckverse #it’s a wonderful life #christmas #fethry duck #suicidal thoughts #Disney ducks

25 notes · View notes

uncaaj · 4 months

Text

I had a dream last night where Jack and Rusty argued over whether Doctor Who was better on the radio or on television. Feel like I might write a fic where the Space bois have a Doctor Who game with Jack as the doc.

#bluey #mackenzie border collie #rusty kelpie #jack russell #headcanon

4 notes · View notes

uncaaj · 5 months

Text

Fanfic: The Switcheroo (Bluey)

READ NOW ON AO3!

This Bluey bonus short is called “The Switcheroo.”

+++

“Crumbed steak, I’m so late!” worried Bandit Heeler, frantically throwing stray papers all around his office. “Where are they, where are they?” He tore each shelf, cabinet, and open table space apart yet had come up empty, and his friends were waiting on him, as evidenced by Pat’s earlier annoyed text. Poking his head into the hallway, he looked toward the kitchen. “Chilli, have you seen my Dungeons & Dogsters things?”

“They’re in the den, honey!” his wife called back. “Right where you left them last time.”

Bandit ran downstairs, panting, and skidded to a halt. Immediately, he spotted a stack of paper on the side table closest to the kids’ playroom. Chilli was right, as she often was. He snatched them in his paws and dashed out. The quickest way to Pat’s was by hopping the fence in the backyard, just through the playroom. It was a quick, straight, clear shot that would waste no more time than he had already.

At least he thought it was a clear shot.

Bluey set the purple crayon down and held up her latest masterpiece to admire. “How lovely,” she beamed. She placed it gingerly on top of three other drawings, taking care not to crease them, before taking hold of the stack and standing up. “I’m going to show these to mum.” With pride across her snout, she started walking toward the large entryway toward the den.

As Bandit reached the kiwi rug in the middle of the playroom, he heard a sharp yelp in front of him. Try as he might, he could not apply the brakes quickly enough. With a pained grunt, he received the full brunt of a small heeler head to his gut and flopped onto his side, the paper in his hand released into the air.

“Ow,” said Bluey.

Sitting up quickly while clutching his aching belly, he found his pup sitting on the floor and rubbing her head, paper strewn all around them. He immediately held out a hand to her. “You all right, Bluey?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” said Bluey, gripping her dad’s paw as he pulled her upright.

He ruffled her ears. “Sorry about that, squirt, but I’m in a rush!” He scooped up the pieces of paper closest to him and legged it off the patio and into the backyard. “Keep it real!”

Bluey waved as her dad climbed the fence and tumbled into Lucky’s dad’s backyard. She laughed. It was always funny when he did that.

When Bluey walked into the kitchen, her mom was tending to a boiling pot on the stove. “Mum, why is dad in a hurry?”

“He got off work a bit late and tonight’s when he plays Dungeons and Dogsters with his friends,” said Chilli, shaking some Italian herbs into the pot.

“He bumped into me as he was running off,” Bluey giggled.

“Oooh, you okay?”

“Yup. I was just coming to put these on the fridge.” She held out the paper to her mom with a smile.

“Wackadoo! Let’s see ‘em.” Chilli took the pictures to look at, then raised an eyebrow. They were not, in fact, pictures. “Bluey, these are your dad’s Dungeons and Dogsters sheets. He needs these to play the game.”

“What?” said Bluey, snatching them back and thumbing through them. “But I had my pictures before I bumped into dad!”

“Okay, what happened after?”

“He helped me up then grabbed the paper near him and ran off. I saw him go into Lucky’s house.”

“That means-” Chilli suddenly gasped. She ran to the window and looked toward Pat’s house. Not a Bandit in sight. He was gone and so were Bluey’s drawings. Knowing him, he wouldn’t come back for them even if it would take five minutes. “Oh, biscuits.”

“Mum?”

“Yes, Bluey?”

“What’s on those sheets?”

“Things about the character he plays as in the game, what he looks like, his magical powers, that stuff.”

“Oh.” Bluey smiled. “I hope he likes playing with a Heeler dressed in big red boots and fairy braids riding a unicorn, then.”

The two laughed. “Knowing your dad,” Chilli said, “he’ll make it work.”

#fanfiction #bluey heeler #bandit heeler #chilli heeler #drabble #humor #slice of life #dungeons and dragons #dnd #bluey

2 notes · View notes