don't know if this appeals to anyone but me and the three friends i've shared it with but. fantasyduckhightales au anyone?
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The night before the first day, Huey spends time in the library looking for books. He still hasn’t clarified his class quite yet, but he’s thinking about some kind of magic specialty—magic can do almost anything, and he likes to be prepared, so he’s considering wizardry. With several books in his arms, he trudges up to their shared room, only to be met with Dewey wielding a piece of wood as a sword at his face when the door opens.
“Ah,” he says, trying not to sound annoyed. “Dewford.”
“Back, ye scurvy dog!”
“You’re not going to pirate school,” Louie says, sounding as annoyed as Huey feels. “Put that down already.”
“I need to practice!”
“Practice what?” Huey says, sidestepping Dewey’s stabbing motion with ease. “You haven’t gotten any instructions yet. You’re just waving that around like a maniac. You’ll knock someone’s teeth out.”
“That’s the intention!”
Huey sets several books on Dewey’s bunk, then climbs up the ladder, slowly moving them up before he climbs onto his own bed. Louie leans over to look up, frowning.
“I know,” Huey says. “I just want to see if I can get a good feel for it before I commit to being a wizard.”
“A wizard?” Louie laughs, leaning his head back to laugh and nearly falling off the bunk. Huey frowns down at him before throwing himself onto his own bunk up top. “Oh, you’ve gotta be joking.”
“I’m not,” he says, short, and climbs into his spot and pulls the closest book to him to open it.
“As if you’re doing anything better,” Dewey says, dropping the wood with a loud thunk that makes Huey flinch. “What class did you choose?”
“Easiest class at the school,” Louie brags. “Ranger.”
“As if you have the coordination for that,” Huey mutters.
“I heard that!”
“Good!” He leans over the railing. “You’re not gonna be a good ranger. Why don’t you try something good, like rogue?”
Louie waves his hand. “Too much work.”
Huey huffs and leans back into his spot. “Whatever.”
The bed shakes several times. After a moment, Dewey’s face pops up at the ladder, staring at Huey expectantly. Huey raises an unimpressed eyebrow.
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“Is wizard going to be a good fit?”
“I don’t know,” Huey says, voice tight. “I haven’t had a chance to read yet.”
“Are you gonna keep us up all night while you read?” Louie complains from below. “I hate it when you do that. I need all the rest I can get.”
“Right, for your easy class that won’t take any effort,” Huey snipes. “And no, I’ll try not to. I’m not the one who tosses and turns every single night laying down and doing dance routines before bed.”
“I have to stay limber!” Dewey protests, throwing his hands up and nearly falling back before he catches himself. The bed shakes again. “Especially now, with me being a fighter and all.”
Not for the first time, Huey wishes he had a room by himself, and he turns back to his book instead of responding. Dewey doesn’t leave, though. He just…hovers there. Staring.
“Can I help you?” Huey snaps.
“…whatcha reading?”
“A book.”
“Well, obviously. I can’t see you picking up D-14 to read,” Dewey says sarcastically. “You’d hate it more than Webby, and that’s saying a lot.”
“You’re interrupting me.”
“O-kay,” Dewey says dramatically, leaning back on the ladder. The bed shakes again. “You’re mad at me. Why? Cause I picked a better class than you? Cause I was practicing in the room with one of the slats from under your bunk?”
“I—“ Huey doesn’t process the last point for a moment, and then he leans over the bunk to check and yes, there’s a slat missing, and oh, shit, he leaned too far and he’s colliding with Louie’s face and hitting the ground before he can finish processing the rest of it. He feels Dewey try to catch him, at least, but that just means all three of them are in a pile on the floor, groaning from impact. Huey feels bad for Louie, whose face is pushed into Huey’s stomach; it’s not comfortable for Huey either, though. All three of them lay there for a moment, then Louie shoves up, and Dewey rolls onto Huey’s head and bangs his beak into the floor, and Huey feels the white-hot anger take over him.
He doesn’t get like this often, but it’s been happening a lot more lately. The Duke of Making A Mess makes his appearance, and Huey snaps forward and bites Dewey’s arm ferociously. Dewey yelps, and Louie goes from trying to shove Huey away to trying to pull him back. It doesn’t work. Huey kicks back and feels his foot make contact with Louie’s stomach with a loud smack, then Huey bites Dewey’s arm several more times as his middle brother shrieks in pain.
“Stop it! Stop!”
“Huey!”
“You ruined everything!” Huey hisses, biting so hard he thinks he can taste blood before he sits up and grabs the front of Dewey’s shirt to shake him. “You ruin everything all the time, you stupid little fuck!”
“Huey!” Louie grabs him around the stomach and yanks him back, but it comes at the price of Dewey’s shirt, which rips at the collar and right down the middle. Huey flails wildly, then—when he realizes he’s losing the fight—starts shredding the strip of fabric with his teeth and hands until it’s barely more than floating fibers in the air. Louie drops him unceremoniously, and Huey watches both of his brothers back away from him and stare at him in…horror.
His chest heaves. The Duke vanishes, and Huey is left with his brother’s blood on his teeth. He drops what little of Dewey’s shirt he has left in his hands and stares down.
“Huey,” Louie says sharply. “What was that?”
He wipes the end of his beak with the back of his arm, staring at the red liquid that comes off. He did that. His brother is hurt, and he did that, and it’s on his mouth, and—
“Sorry,” he mumbles, pushing to his feet. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Dewey scramble back from him. “I’ll—go get, uh, the first aid kit.”
“I’m not letting you walk out of this room until you tell us what that was,” Louie insists, stepping in Huey’s way. “You just attacked Dewey.”
“He ruined everything,” Huey mumbles. “He broke the bed.”
“Huey.”
“Stop saying that,” Huey hisses, shutting his eyes.
“It’s your name,” Louie huffs. “I’m not going to stop calling you your name.”
A thought takes over for a moment—an inkling of an idea. Huey glares up at Louie, bares his teeth a little without moving, then flinches forward as if he’s going for Louie next.
And like clockwork, Louie flinches back.
“I’m getting the first aid kit,” Huey says, straightening his shirt. He watches Louie’s face shift from horror, to shock, to anger, to something worse than that. “And Mrs. Beakley. I’m sure she has another room I can stay in.”
“You’re leaving?”
Huey doesn’t look back at Dewey. He sounds…well, frankly, pathetic. It makes his heart hurt. That’s one of his baby brothers, after all— But Huey was the one who hurt him, and Huey’s still mad, and there’s blood on his beak and he ruined one of Dewey’s favorite shirts.
“Yeah,” he says. “Probably for the best. Don’t want to interrupt your practice.” And then he storms out.
Choke. Just think about it, seriously. Think about what choking is and imagine speaking while it’s happening. That would fuckin’ hurt, man.
Hiss. Look, it’s just not possible, okay? No matter how “evil” you want your character to seem.
Snarl. Animals snarls. The Beast from Beauty and the Beast snarls. The Hulk snarls. You know who doesn’t snarl? PEOPLE WHEN THEY’RE SPEAKING.
Shriek. Come on, 99% of the time, “shriek” is not the word you want.Let’s face it: if you put an exclamation point at the end of the sentence, your reader gets the picture. Don’t bring to mind banshees and screaming toddlers.
Sneer. I’m not even going to bother explaining this one. “SNEER” ISN’T EVEN A SOUND.
Choked is not meant to be taken literally, an obstruction in the throat. It means they’re having difficultly speaking, they’re forcing the words out with difficulty. Often used when the character is convulsed in tears or laughter.
Hiss is a low, threatening whisper. Raw, guttural, vicious. It is NOT a literal hiss like an animal, it is a tone of voice that serves the same function. Someone will hiss that they’re going to cut your throat- a message from one person to the other.
Snarl is the same kind of thing. Not literal, it’s a tone of voice that serves the same function. It’s raw and gutteral like a hiss, but more savage than vicious. It’s loud, it’s showy, it’s intimidating. It’s very alpha male, big man, look at how fucking dangerous I am. I’ll take ALL of you on. Even if they’re snarling at one person in particular, nobody better back them up or they’re gonna get fucked up too.
Shriek. Come on, seriously? We’ve all heard people shriek either in fear or outrage. High pitched, loud, out of control, feminine. Men can shriek, but it’s funny and emasculating. Think angry italian women throwing pots and pans or ladies on tables who just saw a mouse.
Sneering is contempt whether it’s a facial expression or a tone of voice or both. There are a hundred different ways to sneer with your voice, but it all adds up to the same thing.
if anyone wants to follow my real actual spam blog which is me being fucking nuts about the vc crew and also. gorgug and. all the things my brain gives to him. anyway it’s @applespring i think it’s clear what you’ll be getting into <3
Wouldn't it be messed if Zara joined Porter's side because he let her drink his blood one night when she was running low on supplies and she ended up addicted to it thanks to the constant rage running through his veins? Wouldn't it be fucked up if Porter noticed she had a weird reaction to his crystalized blood and then used her addiction to make her help him with his schemes?
siofra cliffbreaker, jace in a different font, catty and bitchy and once his high school sweetheart gone wrong. aeon cliffbreaker, fully 17 years old when her future step situationship is born. porter cliffbreaker, twice divorced when bright eyed, bushy tailed first year teacher jace stardiamond rolls onto the scene.
jace stardiamond finding pictures in old wallets porter doesn’t use anymore, of the sweetest elven/genasi family, covered in dust and splashes of beer. i have so many feelings about them.
snowghoul
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