Duckburg… you are not prepared for this. ;) To be honest, for me there’s only one jester hiding in the sewers who’s able to give me the creeps. Thus… my tribute to It, featuring Quackerjack, who’s going to return in the Duck Tales reboot, as a little birdie told me recently.
Judy hadn’t known what to expect from life. But timelines are as uncertain as bridges to the stars, and she’s prepared to see where this one takes her. Almost. As long as he’s there with her.
I was going to make this platonic, but then I remembered that you loved Wildehopps, and I couldn’t deny you that.
But if you want the same prompt with a platonic plot, let me know!
She’s never had exposure to love. Real love. Not quite true- truth in itself was, by definition; accurate or exact. And they were neither of those things. Nick was sometimes too terse and she was sometimes too hopeful and they were a grab bag of will they won’t they and there wasn’t anything remotely true about the reality of them.
But it was honest and it was good, and she tentatively sidled into it with as much reserve as could be spared.
She asks him out. Tapping her feet on the underside of the dashboard and trying not to fiddle too badly with her radio. “Nick?”
He takes a left turn down fifth street and lets the wheel slide back through his paws. “Hmm?”
“Do you think you’d want to, uh…” tap tap tap go her feet- “we’ve been partners for a while.”
“One year,” he recounts almost lazily, his voice a twinge of summer days and sweet tea. “Or is it one and a half?”
“One and a quarter.”
“Tomato tomato.” He twists his head to give her that smirk. The one that always has her stomach in knots. Smirk number three out of his six smirk arsenal. “Why? You planning a party?”
“No. Uh- actually.” fiddle fiddle fiddle went her fingers- “I wanted to see what you’d think if I uh… asked you out?” A bunny of action was she, and beating around bushes had never been her specialty. Her arm was strong, but her morals were far too large to carry about sticks.
The silence after that is almost nauseating.
Nick is quiet. Taking the next right. Judy feels like she might vomit. Sorry, she wants to scream. God, she wants to barrel roll right out of their cruiser and duck into the sewers. Maybe she could live there forever! Become a hermit! Answer only to the call of the wild and tell no one about the mortifying moment where she asked her partner out in their cruiser.
Or… she could just be a big bunny, apologize, and then get home and bawl out her eyes the way she had at senior prom after she’d caught her date playing tonsil hockey with Jenny Clover.
“Nick-” she starts, her speech prepared with the twang of last words on her tongue-
“You know, Carrots, I ain’t a cheap date. Diamonds and flowers are all that really woo me. But if you’re willing to take a shot…”
The only thing that breaks her of her complete shock is smirk number five, and then she has to use every fiber in her tiny body to keep herself from throwing said tiny body across the dash and onto him. But she does well. Acadamy life trained her for this. And she sits in her seat, and gives a little wiggle of pleasure.
“I was thinking that Vegan place?”
“Sounds good.” He takes another right. “And I expect flowers.”
So today, my mom tells my dad in the afternoon that there were baby ducks stuck in the sewer. Apparently they fell down the hole and we’re calling out to their mom. Their mom disappeared. I guess she was in such distressed that she left.
Anyways, my dad goes outside and so do I. We hear them calling out. My dad pulls the grate from the drain. There are like 7 babies down there. So at first we tried a net but they would fall right through the holes.
So then we tried a basket with strings and we made sure it went right below the waterline. We threw bread. I went online and found the breed of duck then I found the mother calls. So I played it on repeat. They started coming out and my dad caught them with the basket.
So we caught all of them. Then I wanted to go to the park because it’s across the street from my house. Usually there are a lot of ducks there. So we went looking for a duck that is all black with like two or three babies. I put them in a small pet crate.
I looked for about 30 minutes and then I found the mother with another mother and her own set of babies. The babies were calling out. The mother would turn her head and look right at me and the crate. I let them out. I backed away and the mother came towards them. She wagged her tail. She seemed excited to have her babies. She went and smelled them. She didn’t attack them or anything of that sort. So they must have been her babies because they would follow her.
So I’m glad I saved them and found their mom. Thanks to my dad, my neighbor, and myself!
A/N: [slinks out of the shadows to drop a piss-poor fic and run away]
He’d turned away from her, shoulders bunched and spine stiff as durasteel through the black bodysuit. Ahsoka had known better that to push, but this was an opportunity she couldn’t pass up—the thought of survivors—
“Ahsoka, you can’t expect me to be part of this.”
They’d been holed up in an abandoned hovel for over a day, now; summer on Traxxis’ southern continent was brutal, but the only spaceport planet-side sprawled in a messy heap here, in its sand-blasted capital. The afternoon sun hung low and heavy in the sky, a swollen blot of muddy, angry red, the stormtroopers too lazy in the heat.
Twenty minutes ago, she’d managed to snag a trove of rations—good eating for at least two weeks—and an Imperial roster.