...Comments?

Uh, so this is embarrassing.

I didn't realize I had received any comments on any of my posts so far. Granted, right now, they're all from the same person, but still thank you for taking the time to leave them! Really, with all the crazy stuff happening at home, reading these made my day.

I'm also discovering that there's no way to reply to them (Or at least, no obvious way)...so I'll just reply to them now!

"Well, I guess I'm officially stalking you now... but hopefully not in an annoyingly creepy way. ;) (I'll accept "pleasantly creepy" or "annoyingly pleasant" though. I like to keep that "pleasant" part in there.) ^_^  " 


This one made me smile. And you are neither annoying or creepy! You're the most pleasant and polite stalker ever!


Haha... it's good to finally see Marty in written form, since this gives *such* a good sense of her character right away. Locks in with the art to form a complete whole, methinks. ^_^ Poor Launchpad... Poor, confused Launchpad. XD

(I forgot about her swearing like a sailor until I read this, too... LOL!) 


Thanks! I'm glad her written form meshes with her design so well. She's by far one of the easier characters (out of all my OCs, I mean) to write, too. 


 I love your song list... they're all over the map, which is cool :D A She and Him song is even in there! I haven't heard it (I only know one of their songs so why I act like I'm in the know and all cool is beyond me) but I like their style on the one I did hear. ^_^

I don't have enough for a full soundtrack on any fics but I do have a "soundtrack" playlist to put on when I write in general... they tend to be more thematic, with a couple of exceptions that correspond to specific scenes. "That Kind of Love" by Allison Krauss ended up defining a scene in one recent fic (of the soul-crushing variety... which is funny b/c lyrically it's not a sad song, but the way it's sung it's very lonely and full of longing).

Oh, and my halloween fic "The House on Avian Way" is set to the soundtrack of "Beetlejuice". Some scenes are even meant to be paced to certain particular tracks.

And inexplicably I have several songs by Alice Cooper on there, which don't correspond to anything except they remind me of Negaduck, whom I've only written twice. O_o 

Yep, I can't stick solely to one genre of music. My iPod is a musical mess; I've got indie bands, mainstream, musicals... I even have a few Miley Cyrus songs (I'm not proud of it, but my philosophy has always been you can like the music and dislike the singer.) I'm going to take a shot in the dark and say that She and Him song is "Why Do You Let Me Stay Here?" XD It's one of my favorites and I've been trying to study the choreography in the Bank Dance Video because I want to at least storyboard a sequence between Marty and LP like that. I use to just use a single list for everything as well, but I dunno. My English teacher in high school use to give us a project for every book we read where we had to build a sound track to correspond with the themes and scenes of the book. So I guess I just picked it up from there. Lol, Alice Cooper, huh? I think I have a couple Rise Against songs that correspond to Negs, along with some Mars Volta and Marylin Manson. I'm curious now, though. Are you going to write anything else with him?


And done!


So, from now on, I'll just take the time to reply to comments here. It'll even have it's own label :]

Tuesday is also for Zombies

Two posts in one day. This is how you know work is horribly slow.

Anyway, I found this little snippet of writing in personal folder on my work computer. I had long forgotten where I had hidden it and was dreading re-writing this scene from Surviving the Multiverse only because I thought it sounded pretty good for a first draft. 

Doesn't really spoil anything in the fic I think. My apologies if it does.

* * * * *

Sonny threw her hands in the air with an exasperated exhalation of air.

“You are an idiot!” she spat, wheeling about to glare at Drake. “A straight up, flat out idiot!” She watched as he stiffened, pausing just a few feet away from her. A look of shame flitted across his features while he bowed his head slightly. For a brief second, she felt regret; she was being too harsh with him. He didn’t know what was going on or where he had landed. He had made that perfectly clear when laughed in her face at the mere mention of zombies. But he had seen them first hand now, come face to face with one.

Like a deer caught in headlights, he had frozen. And that had pissed her off. She had spent countless hours explaining to him the dangers, showing him photos of various infected victims so he would be prepared if one showed it’s ugly face. He needed to be desensitized, to be able to push aside that these poor bastards had been human once, but not anymore. Sympathy wasn’t a luxury they could afford.

She had warned him and he had ignored her.

Sonny snatched up the decapitated head of the creature that had barreled into Drake only moments before. She stomped forward and shoved the bloody mess of bone and hair and flesh into his face. He cringed, leaning away from the disgusting head, but refused to retreat. That was something to be admired, she supposed. He had enough pride to stand up for himself against the small woman. Every other man in town had learned to give her some breathing room; none of them were stupid enough to take her on nowadays. Not after what happened to Graeme.

“This just tried to turn you into the dinner special,” she snarled. “Why the hell didn’t you shoot?!”

With a frown, Drake snorted. “You didn’t give me enough time,” he muttered. “I was getting to it.”

“Bullshit.”

“Is it really necessary for you to speak like that?” he retorted huffily.

Sonny faltered. “Necessary to speak…?” she prompted slowly.

Drake sighed, taking it upon himself to gently nudge her hand (and the head) down and away from his face. “You curse all the time. It’s just…it’s very rude,” he replied. “And unladylike.”

“Oh, so now you’re gonna lecture me on manners, is that it?” she hissed. Her eyes narrowed venomously on him and she allowed the head to drop to the ground with a gentle thud before it rolled away. “Look here, Drake Mallard, I can speak any fucking way I damn well please and if you haven’t noticed, I am not playing house here! I’m hunting zombies!”

“Fine, just forget it,” He sighed and started to turn away when she grabbed his bicep roughly. Drake frowned down at her, rolling his eyes as he inhaled slowly through his nose. “Jeez, will you quit that?”

“So now you’re going to ignore me?”

“Well, stop cussing up a storm every time you talk to me!”

“I wasn’t talking to you! I was yelling at you, you infuriating, cowardly, piece of--”

Drake tore away from her grasp, eyes wide with a mix of pure rage and surprise. “Cowardly?!” he bellowed. “How exactly am I being a coward?”

She snapped right back. “You won’t take a fucking shot!”

Then the dam broke.

“Because it’s fucking wrong!” he screamed. “Fuck, it’s so wrong! Okay, are you happy? My own personal moral code won’t allow me to shoot the motherfuckers, alright?” He wilted before her eyes, shoulders slumping forward as he ducked his head slightly. Shame flashed across his face once more. His hand lifted mechanically, fingers tangling into his dirty blonde hair as he tugged at the short strands in frustration.

“Drake…”

“What?” he muttered.

With a gentle smile, she placed her hand on his shoulder. “You said a bad word.”

He frowned. “I’m having a crisis and that’s all you can focus on?”

She nodded. “Look, the only reason you’re having a crisis is because you can’t get over the fact that you are doing this to survive, not because it’s a game. Nate had the same problem. You can’t really blame him. He’s a doctor, after all…”

“You realize that you and the rest of those freaks back in Amity have a running score sheet, right? Someone dies and none of you bat an eyelash. You have something called Zombie Kill of the Week, for crying out loud.” He shook his head, gently pushing her hand off his shoulder. “I…I can’t be a part of that. I can’t. This may be some game to you now, but these were people at some point.”

Sonny lowered her eyes, shrinking away from him as the words sliced through her. “It sounds like you think we’re monsters, Drake,” she winced.

He paused and glanced at her. “Can you blame me if I do?”

Her vision blurred as hot tears swelled around the red rims of her dark eyes. She wrapped her arms around her torso and bowed her head so that he could not see the pain on her face; how could one little question physically hurt so much?

“It’s just,” he sighed before he continued. “It’s just that back home I kinda stand for something. I’m my city’s best defense against…well…against a lot of things. How can I go back there and defend the people against murderers and madmen if I’m no better than them?”

Sonny lifted her eyes to look at him through the thin veil of dark hair and tears. A weak grin tugged the corners of her mouth upward. “You make yourself sound like Batman.”

Drake blinked at her and she couldn’t quite tell if it was amusement or shock in his eyes, as if she had stumbled upon something she really shouldn’t have. She opened her mouth, the beginning of a lengthy interrogation settling on her tongue when a crooked smile lit up his face. “Close enough, I suppose,” he snorted. “I do hang around enough rooftops and alleyways back home.”

Tuesday is for Fairytales

So I currently have two fairy-tales in the works right now. One is DW/Tangled crossover and the other is Chasing Lily which is actually supposed to be a three parter (The series would go Chasing Lily/Finding Lily/Keeping Lily or something to that extent). I'm not sure if the DW/Tangled is going to be an on-going thing. I mean, I have enough of a story to take up a few sketchbooks...and close to sixty pages worth of script so far. Thank god, I actually took down notes as ideas were coming to me this time too.

Anyway, I guess I should just go ahead put a brief synopsis of both.

First, Chasing Lily is an original fairytale. The idea for it came after my brief stint as a Walt Disney World cast member when I signed up for the College Program back in 06. At the time, it had been a sort of crack story that had my roommates and friends as the main cast. Seriously, it was kinda...awful. Well, fast forward to about November 2009. Things were going downhill pretty fast between my best friends and I. I sort of picked this project back up as a way to distract myself from all the drama. It worked.

So Chasing Lily takes place in a made up, nameless world where the countries of Espada, Port Vista, Chatham Harbor, North Highland and the pirate hub IPAH (or EPAH depending on the words I pick for that acronym) exist. It starts off with two friends, Jonah and ... well, his name was Flynn. (Mind you, I had started thinking of this story way before I realized Tangled was ever going to be made, but I guess somewhere along the way I stumbled across some artwork for the movie, because my Flynn and Tangled's Flynn...uh, way too similar.) So Jonah and for now, nameless hero, were classmates and dorm buddies at High Northland's Royal Academy. Jonah is pretty level-headed, a bit reserved and tends to be passive aggressive. The Hero, a little more cocky, adventurous and assertive (He's a Scorpio. Jonah's a Pisces.) (Oh as far as names go, I'm really stuck. Flynn was perfect....I thought about naming him Drake, coming up with a totally different design...but then I'd have two Drakes...ugh, I need a new name...and geez, talk about stream of consciousness.) Anyway, back to the summary. Jonah and NH (nameless hero) run away from the academy when the two of them are about fifteen, sixteen. Flash forward about five or six years and the two have  a rather successful career as bounty hunters now and have been hired by the King and Queen of the southern kingdom of Espada to find their runaway daughter Princess Azucena Jose Maria del Fuente (or as her mother simply calls her, Ena). This takes the boys to a much smaller kingdom, Port Vista. (Technically, it's only a small town, but they have a princess.) There, NH goes undercover as a knight hired to help the town with it's pirate problem while he looks for Azucena. Instead, he meets Lily, a young woman of about 19 who works in a tavern and takes up residence in the Vista Way Inn, room 2804. The two begin an unlikely friendship and while he suspects she's the princess he's looking for, he hopes she isn't. Either way, he let's Jonah in on his suspicions and Jonah head back to Espada to confirm this with the King and Queen. While he's gone, the town is attacked by the pirates of the Phantom. Panicking, NH shoves Lily into an empty wine barrel in the cellar of the tavern and promises to come back for her. Unfortunately, the first place the pirates raid is the tavern and guess which barrel they decided to grab because it felt a lot fuller than the others? So Lily ends up on the ship and NH gets his butt handed to him by the petite and skilled Captain Mari. The next morning, Jonah arrives, shocked at the state of the town and finds NH begging Princess Shannon for a horse and some supplies for a rescue mission (she's actually the only one in town who owns a stable). Jonah's able to persuade the princess and NH and he take off after the ship. Meanwhile, Lily is introduced to the very small crew of the Phantom. There's James and John Dakota. James is the helmsman and was studying to be a sorcerer at the Royal Academy when he had a nervous breakdown. John is the first mate and claims the only reason he's even around is to keep Mari and James out of serious trouble. Mari is the captain, of course and actually very friendly.And then there's Bang-Bang, a small boy of maybe ten or eleven who doesn't speak. He's the cabin boy/explosives expert. (Jame's exact words, too.) So that's basically how it starts. But yeah, I'm still working on getting everything kinda cleaned up and cutting parts and adding others or moving them into the next two stories.

As for DW/Tangled, still need a decent title. When I started drawing this crossover and thinking about the story behind it, I was reminded of that one really random episode of Darkwing, 'Darkwing Dubloon'. So if I go through with this idea (which I will. I already put way too much thought into it...which means, I'm seriously attached to this project!) it would basically be like that. Anyway, the idea was that Drake and Launchpad are being accused of stealing a crown that belonged to the princess (who is presumed dead, by the way.) and that's how it starts. Literally, the opening sequence I have planned out is that Drake and LP are being chased through the streets by (of all people, too) Fenton Crackshell's alterego, Gizmo Duck and quite a few knights. So the two high-tail it out of there after Drake leaves Gosalyn with the Muddlefoots. The two manage to escape capture in the woods and stumble across a tower. No, they don't climb it. They're about to when Marty scares them by jumping out of the bushes around the tower. After getting a brief sum up of what's happen to them, she enlists them as her new bodyguards/hair handlers (despite their protests) and takes them down to her favorite tavern, The Old Haunt. There, Marty introduces them to Morgana, who also happens to be on the run from her evil stepmother, Magica. Meanwhile, in St. Canardia, Gosalyn has enlisted Honkers help in trying to clear her father's name. And that's how that one starts.

Man, long post is long. But anyway, I figured now that both summaries are up, I can dedicate a little bit of time to posting about them without worrying about things not making sense. Well, I guess they still don't make sense, but hey, I tried, at least.

So I think I might need a beta...

I'm not sure yet, though. To tell the truth, I want to have enough confidence in my own abilities and not depend on someone else, but at the same time, what sounds good to me, might not be all that great. Hmm... decisions, decisions. Well, I guess I'll just post what I have so far for Crossfire and you tell me.

(Spoiler Alert!)

Before I do that, however, I'll just explain. The first part (or act as I have it labeled) is supposed to jump straight into the action hence the rather random suspense scene. I figured the director of the DIA wouldn't just phone Launchpad and say "Hey buddy, how's it going? That's great. By the way, we need you to basically drop everything your doing and go on this covert mission for us. You could totally die and oh, this chick you grew up with and broke your heart is gonna be there. Kthnxbai." I figured they would send another agent to nab him and take him back to HQ (plus, a totally valid excuse to introduce another OC). The thing is....I'm afraid I may have made it too....vague. Granted the chapter isn't done yet, but I don't know if at that second break (where the door opens and then the scene jumps back outside to focus on Morg and Drake's reaction to depressed Launchpad) I should have gone ahead and written an action sequence or just kept everyone wondering much like DW, Morg and the kids are when they race back to the house....

Anyway....actual story now:

Crossfire

Act one: “And we're caught up in the crossfire…”

There’s a still in the street outside your window
You’re keepin’ secrets on your pillow
Let me inside, no cause for alarm
I promise tonight not to do no harm
I promise you baby,I won't be no harm

Moonlight bathed landscape, lush green blades of grass and long stemmed wildflowers dancing in a cool, spring breeze. The sweet scent of newly bloomed blossoms laced the wind and teased his nose. In the distance, he could hear the almost melodic chirping of crickets, the music of a babbling brook just beyond a quaint wooden fence and a thin tree line that separated the farm from a forest. Above him, starlight dappled a clear, almost black velvet sky, twinkling and shimmering. He should have felt at peace then.

Instead he cringed as another white blossom was crushed beneath his foot, a flurry of petals and leaves and dirt and grass flying up in his wake. The only thing he was feeling was an unsettling wave of nausea and panic. 

“Run. Just keep running!”

Hazarding a glance over his shoulder, Launchpad felt his brow furrow as his eyes narrowed on the young woman running just beside and behind him. In this light, her blue eyes glowed, a mix of amusement and adrenaline dancing in those orbs; the soft light highlighted her wheat colored hair with browns and gold; and her white cotton dress, a flattering a-line that she saved for special occasions and church, made her look almost angelic. Almost because he doubted angels would be seen with grass stains and specks of mud on any of their clothing or with a tangled mess of wild curls sitting upon their head no matter what the situation.

He finally found his voice when the angry bellow of a bull echoed behind them. Much to his dismay, the bastard was gaining on them. “How do I let you talk me into these things?” he huffed. His legs started to ache, a twinge of pain travelling through his calves and thighs; the field was a hell of a lot bigger than he had initially thought. With a sharp intake of breath, Launchpad shook his head, clearing his mind of a stray thought. Right now was not the time to be wondering if his football coach would be disappointed to find out his first string running back was winded after a brisk jog. Never mind that he had scarfed down two cheeseburgers, a large fries and a chocolate milkshake only a half hour before Little Miss One-of-The-Guys dragged him out here and hadn’t planned on doing any running. He hadn’t planned on doing any physical activity after…

Okay, well, no. That was a lie or he wouldn’t have bothered tucking a box of Tic-Tacs into his jacket pocket before picking up Marty.

A breathless laugh brought him back to the moment at hand. “You can be pissed off at me after we hop the fence, babe,” she replied, managing to wink at him. “I’ll totally make it up to you.”

“Martina, I swear—oof!”

It was the most insignificant movement. The toe of his boot just scraped the top of the dirt wrong, digging just a centimeter too deep that it was caught on some invisible root. Something in his ankle popped and snapped and he went down. A strangled yelp of pain fought the thick knot lodged in his throat as he dug his fingers into the moist dirt.

Martina slid to a stop, wheeling about with her arms outstretched in a failed attempt to catch him. “Launchpad, are you alright?”

“What are you doing? Keep running,” he grunted, struggling to keep his voice level. He pushed himself up and tears threatened to leak from the corners of his eyes. “I’m fine.”

She opened her mouth to protest when another bellow sounded and this time, he could feel the ground trembling beneath him. He managed a quick glance over his shoulder before the angry beast roared again. The bull had lowered its head, twin horns racing toward him as he struggled to his feet. Balanced precariously on his good foot, he shoved Martina to the side and out of harm’s way. Then, he braced himself to take a hit that never came.

Instead, he found himself stumbling sideways and just barely out of the bull’s path as it barreled onward. His back hit something solid and stiff and before he could register that it was the fence, he scrambled over it. He blinked, turning his attention away from the animal and to Marty, who stood off to the side, her arms wrapped around her torso as she stared down at the ground. The panic and nausea that had been tearing him apart was replaced with a sudden rush of guilt.

A thin sheen of tears covered her eyes, the tan feathers on around her eyes and on her cheeks damp. She trembled, taking in a shuddery breath as he hobbled forward to place a hand on her shoulder. Something in her eyes flashed, a dam of some sort broke within her, but not one of tears. Not tears of sorrow, anyway. Her face contorted into an angry glare and she shoved him away. “Idiot! What the fuck were you thinking? You could have been killed!”

He hopped back, steadying himself on his good foot. “Wait just a minute! You’re mad at me now?”

“Damn straight I am,” she snapped. “Don’t ever ask me to leave you behind again! Not ever!”

Launchpad snorted derisively. “Are you seriously angry because--”

She stomped forward, fisting her hand around his dirtied shirt front and yanked him closer. He found himself hunched over uncomfortably, the end of his bill brushing against hers as she glared at him. Swallowing thickly, he ignored the heat rising to his face and was silently thanking the powers that be that he had feathers to cover up the red that was spreading across his face. How much would she hate him if he faltered just the tiniest bit, slipped forward and inadvertently kissed her? Something in her eyes flashed and the idea was dashed. He knew better than to try anything when she was this upset. “Promise me.”

“I promise…” he mumbled. He felt her grip loosen on his shirtfront. He straightened, placing some weight on his throbbing ankle. It was swollen and aching, but thankfully not broken.

He lifted his eyes. His heart sank as she turned her back to him.

* * * * * *

“Earth to Launchpad! Hell-ooo…”

Launchpad blinked rapidly, squinting as the bright midday sun suddenly filled his vision. A frigid winter wind buffeted his face and hair, the crisp smell of freshly cut grass and something smoky—probably a grill--bombarding his nostrils. Out of habit, he swiped at the end of his bill with a gloved hand, willing the urge to sneeze to leave him. “Whoa. Now, that was weird,” he muttered as he massaged his temple.

“LP, are you just going to stand there or are we going to show these kids how it’s done?” He turned to see Drake and Morgana approaching, a beat up football tucked under the shorter mallard’s arm. Morgana paused, readjusting the collar of her knee length black coat with a small frown.

The pilot tilted his head slightly, confusion etched on his face. “Huh?”

Drake tossed the football at him, clapping his hands together. LP fumbled with the ball for a moment before getting a better grip on it and automatically tucking it close to his chest. “It’s just a little three on three, LP. Adults versus kids,” he explained with a grin. “And we can’t lose this time. Honker and that weird kid with the camera are already at each other’s throats and it’s not even kick off yet.”

Launchpad lifted his eyes, looking across the yard to where Gosalyn was playing referee between her friends again. He blinked, sepia toned memories surging forward. It seemed as if most of the games he, Loopy and Marty would play as children started off with an argument and his poor little sister trapped in the middle as well. Martina knew how to push his buttons when he didn’t even realize he had buttons to be pushed. It was just one of the many talents she had. He scoffed quietly.

Pretty good at running, too, he mused as a bitter grin threatened to spread across his bill. He shook his head lightly, waving the thought away. With wavering focus, he turned to the couple standing in front of him.

 “Dark, I worry about you sometimes,” Morgana sighed, tugging the trim of her black gloves before folding her arms across her chest. “And why do I have to play? You know I don’t understand most of these games.”

“Oh, honeybunch,” Drake chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. It’ll be easy. We’ll just have you go downfield. You just catch the ball when we throw it to you.”

Eyebrow delicately raised, Morgana let out a quick huff of air, disbelief flashing in her green eyes. “You mean ‘if’ you throw the ball to me.”

Drake frowned, opening his mouth to reply when Launchpad spoke up. “Sorry, but I’m gonna sit this one out, guys,” he muttered solemnly, handing the ball back to Drake before he stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets. “My ankle’s acting up on me again. Probably shouldn’t push it.”

His excuse was met by silence. Morgana and Drake exchanged concerned glances before the shorter of the two stepped forward and placed his hand on Launchpad’s shoulder carefully. “You sure? It’ll just be a quick game,” Drake said, a half hearted smile on his face to hide his worry. “Once you start playing, your ankle will be fine. It’s just the cold. Same thing happens to my shoulder during the winter.”

Launchpad shook his head. Despite his best efforts to sound casual, Launchpad knew Drake was worried.  And he hated it. He didn’t need his best friend to worry over him when there was no reason to. “LP, c’mon…”

“Please?” His eyes darted over to Morgana, spying a placating smile and pleading look in her eyes.

He was tempted to change his mind and just go along with it. A quick game would be fun and his focus always shifted into the sport when he was playing; there was no room in his mind for high school memories or runaway...well, he wasn’t sure what to call her. Marty had been his friend since as far back as he could remember, but by the time they were in their teens, she was much more. Or at least, he had always felt she was much more than a friend. He couldn’t really tell what she had felt for him, if she had felt anything. Launchpad felt his shoulders slump forward slightly as the heaviness that had been plaguing him for well over a week now came back full force. He exhaled loudly through his nose, shaking his head.

 “Nah, guys. I’m out.”

He turned away from them and limped towards the house. Sliding open the patio door, he paused at the threshold and leaned against the frame. He had managed to shove those memories away for years. He was happier forgetting them or so he had convinced himself he was. Either way, he’d done everything he could to just shut down that part of his brain (although, most people would say he had shut his entire brain off ages ago). There was no reason for him to be suddenly thinking of that time, thinking of her.

Brow furrowed slightly and a frown turning the corners of his mouth downward, he entered the kitchen. He wandered over to where the island stood in the center of the room, preparing to hop onto to one of the stools set near it. He figured he would finish reading the newspaper—or rather, the Sunday funnies—when there was blur of movement at his side.

“Eh?” He lifted his eyes, glancing across the kitchen. His gaze fell on the door leading to the laundry room. The door trembled slightly as if someone had just passed through it. Muscles tensed, Launchpad swallowed hard against the knot forming in his throat and he could feel blood pounding against his eardrums, deafening him. His stomach churned; his nerves were getting the better of him. It bothered him that even though he could honestly say he’d been through much worse that pang of panic still gnawed at his gut. And it was just getting worst the longer he stared at the door.

Hesitantly, he took a step towards the door. Nothing happened. With an inaudible sigh of relief, Launchpad felt his shoulders loosen up just the tiniest bit and he chuckled weakly. Mentally, he scolded himself for getting worked up over nothing.

That’s when the door swung open.

* * * * *

“You see what I’ve been dealing with all week?” Drake huffed, turning his back to the house. “He’s just been moping around! Do you know how weird that is?” He tossed the football aside with a disgusted sigh before clasping his hands behind his head and pacing.

Morgana’s eyes tracked over to Drake, a pitying grimace set on her features. “It is unsettling, I admit,” she replied. “But Drake, have you just asked him what’s wrong?”

He stiffened. His frown deepened as he shot her a look that screamed ‘Duh!’, but she held her tongue. If she changed the subject and called him out now, she knew they would be arguing all afternoon long about something as trivial as a facial expression when Launchpad was in obvious need of help. No, she could let this one slide. “Yes. I’ve been asking him,” he muttered. “I’ve asked him every day since he started acting this way.”

“And?”

He sighed and shrugged his shoulders noncommittally. “He won’t tell me anything other than he’s just feeling burnt out or his ankle is bothering him,” he paused, catching sight of a disapproving look forming on her face. “And before you blame me, it’s an old injury. If he had gotten hurt while we were patrolling the city, I would have taken him to a doctor. But according to him, he tore some of the ligaments in it when he was in high school.”

“Well, maybe it’s really bothering him now.” Morgana offered, glancing back at the house. “Pain can make people act differently.” She tilted her head. Maybe her eyes were playing tricks on her, but it almost looked as if the pilot had been startled by something inside the house. She shook her head, casually rubbing the corner of her eye.

Drake shook his head. “This is Launchpad we’re talking about. He walks away from plane crashes without a scratch, a limp, or a split personality. It makes no sense.”

Morgana turned to look at him, but said nothing. What could she say? Drake had a point and she couldn’t argue it any further. Neither of them had ever dealt with the pilot like this. Launchpad did not get depressed. Not inconsolably so, anyway. There had been that time when Pelican’s Island had been canceled, but Launchpad had gotten over it quickly once he discovered the series on DVD. Even when he was feeling under the weather health-wise, he was hardly cranky. If anything, he was just a bit lethargic, but still ready and willing to hit the streets with Darkwing despite it. Hell, Dark usually had to sneak out on those rare occasions LP was sick; the element of surprise is usually lost when criminals and the like can hear you coughing and sniffling from the shadows, after all.

With a sigh, Drake looked away from her. Paused. His brow lowered, his forehead crinkled with worry as he stared past her shoulder. She blinked, turning her head to follow his gaze at the house. By now, Launchpad was no longer in view, having disappeared further into the house. Or so she assumed he had. Suddenly, she felt a wave of uncertainty mixed with nausea wash over her. Earlier, she had pushed aside what she had seen, Launchpad stumbling back as if he had been frightened by something, to focus on her conversation with Drake. What if something had actually happened? “Dark…?”

CRASH!

“Crap,” Drake hissed, barreling past her to the house. She followed him, a sudden pang of fear striking her in the center of her chest as the sound of hollow steel colliding with hard tile rang out from the house, like a bell chiming, signaling the end of an hour. From the corner of her eye, she could see the children still standing on the other side of the yard, staring wide eyed at Drake and her. Suddenly, Gosalyn broke away from her friends, sprinting across the yard towards them. Honker and the other girl, Sophie, weren’t far behind.

Morgana collided with Drake at the doorway, but he braced himself on the frame before he could topple over.

The kitchen was destroyed. Pots and pans were strewn across the floor, some dented and bent awkwardly. The shattered remains of several plates and tumblers littered the ground; a few were dappled with red specks. Others were dripping in the crimson liquid, bright red pools of the stuff surrounding the jagged pieces of ceramic and glass. Morgana gasped, her hands flying up to cover her bill as Drake raised a hand, silently signaling her to keep quiet. Gosalyn appeared at her side then, scrambling to get past her father when the older mallard shot her a stern look and shook his head.

“Stay.”

“Dad, what about Launchpad?” she blurted out, her voice cracking slightly.

He threw a sidelong glance at Morgana. “Stay out here with the kids,” he murmured. He stepped over the threshold, carefully avoiding the broken clock that had been knocked from the wall.

Now it was Morg’s turn to shake her head. She reached forward, her fingers wrapping around the loose fabric of his jacket tightly. “No. You are not going in there alone.”

“Don’t argue with me right now,” he snapped as he shrugged her off. “There’s no time for it.”

“But Dark--”

On the other side of kitchen, the sound of glass crunching beneath heavy boots approaching silenced them.

Soundtracks to Write By

Maybe it's just me, but when I write or draw, I need music. And not just background noise. I need a particular song or sound for a particular scene. Sometimes, one song is perfect for an entire story (mind you, I talking short stories.)

For example, the soundtrack for Crossfire is looking a little like this right now:
Crossfire-Brandon Flowers
When You Were Young- The Killers
Like A Prayer-Madonna
Copacabana - Barry Manilow (Perfect for a bar scene that will happen later in the story)
Hands Clean-Alanis Morrisette
Warning Sign- Coldplay
Hollaback Girl vs. Give It To Me - DJ Hero Mash-up (Technically, more for a drawing, but still)

The track listing for DW:Tangled (which will be getting a better name because...I may have, kinda sorta got attached to the artwork and started plotting out a story in which Drake and LP are accused of stealing a crown, run away from St. Canardia only to find themselves as the unofficial bodyguards of a maiden with ridiculously long hair -Marty- and her witchy gal pal - Morgana- and so on and so forth. Way more details on that later ;) ) looks a bit like this:
I See The Light- Mandy Moore and Zach Levi
Something That I Want - Grace Potter
In The Sun - She & Him
The Way - Fastball
Kingdom Dance- Tangled OST
Ramalama Bang Bang- Roisin Murphy (this one is for when Magica DeSpell shows up)
The Rhythm of Love - Plain White T's

Even my Nano Novel, current DW storylines and Chasing Lily scripts all have soundtracks. I'm almost tempted to include a track listing of all the songs just to add to the mood of my stories. I'm not too sure how well that would go over, but it's a thought.

Crossfire

 So, it's Monday and I actually have something to share! Haha, I thought for sure it would be hell trying to keep up with this thing.

Anyway, my latest fanfiction for DWD is focusing on Launchpad. Specifically, LP and my OC, Marty. Of course, this means that the story I should be working on (which is a prelude to the events in my fan-comic i.e. SHUSH, Army of Duckness and Waking Up in Vegas) is kinda on hold. The story is a little somber and I'm just having a hard time getting into the mood to write it. It explains a lot, though because the comic starts off with Gosalyn NOT wanting to be a crimefighter and scrambling to find a job that would help her support the family should anything happen to DW. While it seems out of character (I admit it, it does!) in that first story, Gos is affected by the events.

Getting back to the other story. For now, it's called Crossfire. Basically, this occurs between the comic and the prequel fanfiction. The DIA needs Launchpad to go undercover again and this time they've called in help from their sister agency, SHUSH in the form of agent and pilot, Martina McNair (aka Marty McFly). Cue flashback scenes of a blossoming romance and the events that brought it to an end. So, due to how things ended between them after high school, when Marty left Duckburg to join the Air Force and LP stayed behind to work for Scrooge McDuck, they aren't exactly pleased to see each other, let alone work together.

Originally, I thought this was going to be my Bonnie and Clyde story, introducing both NegaLP and NegaMarty into my AU as well. But I'm saving that one for a bit later ;) I can say that in Crossfire,  Feathers Galore and FOWL will be present.

I'm still working on Drake's Guide to Surviving the Multiverse. I've been editing and tweaking and re-mapping that monster since NaNo ended. The first chapter is nearly fixed as well as the second. It's just been hard since originally, that story was something I was writing for a friend...and well, having to go back and rework certain things and inside jokes has been tough. But it's getting done!

And now for a brief preview of Crossfire:

Moonlight bathed landscape, lush green blades of grass and long stemmed wildflowers dancing in a cool, spring breeze. The sweet scent of newly bloomed blossoms laced the wind and teased his nose. In the distance, he could hear the almost melodic chirping of crickets, the music of a babbling brook just beyond a quaint wooden fence and a thin tree line that separated the farm from a forest. Above him, starlight dappled a clear, almost black velvet sky, twinkling and shimmering. He should have felt at peace then.

Instead he cringed as another white blossom was crushed beneath his foot, a flurry of petals and leaves and dirt and grass flying up in his wake. The only thing he was feeling was an unsettling wave of nausea and panic. 

“Run. Just keep running!”

Hazarding a glance over his shoulder, Launchpad felt his brow furrow as his eyes narrowed on the young woman running just beside and behind him. In this light, her blue eyes glowed, a mix of amusement and adrenaline dancing in those orbs; the soft light highlighted her wheat colored hair with browns and gold; and her white cotton dress, a flattering a-line that she saved for special occasions and church, made her look almost angelic. Almost because he doubted angels would be seen with grass stains and specks of mud on any of their clothing or with a tangled mess of wild curls sitting upon their head no matter what the situation.

He finally found his voice when the angry bellow of a bull echoed behind them. Much to his dismay, the bastard was gaining on them. “How do I let you talk me into these things?” he huffed. His legs started to ache, a twinge of pain travelling through his calves and thighs; the field was a hell of a lot bigger than he had initially thought. With a sharp intake of breath, Launchpad shook his head, clearing his mind of a stray thought. Right now was not the time to be wondering if his football coach would be disappointed to find out his first string running back was winded after a brisk jog. Never mind that he had scarfed down two cheeseburgers, a large fries and a chocolate milkshake only a half hour before Little Miss One-of-The-Guys dragged him out here and hadn’t planned on doing any running. He hadn’t planned on doing any physical activity after…

Okay, well, no. That was a lie or he wouldn’t have bothered tucking a box of Tic-Tacs into his jacket pocket before picking up Marty.

A breathless laugh brought him back to the moment at hand. “You can be pissed off at me after we hop the fence, babe.”

“Martina, I swear—oof!”

It was the most insignificant movement. The toe of his boot just scraped the top of the dirt wrong, digging just a centimeter too deep that it was caught on some invisible root. Something in his ankle popped and snapped and he went down. A strangled yelp of pain fought the thick knot lodged in his throat as he dug his fingers into the moist dirt.

Martina slid to a stop, wheeling about with her arms outstretched in a failed attempt to catch him. “Launchpad, are you alright?”

“What are you doing? Keep running,” he grunted, struggling to keep his voice level. He pushed himself up and tears threatened to leak from the corners of his eyes. “I’m fine.”

She opened her mouth to protest when another bellow sounded and this time, he could feel the ground trembling beneath him. He managed a quick glance over his shoulder before the angry beast roared again. The bull had lowered its head, twin horns racing toward him as he struggled to his feet. Balanced precariously on his good foot, he shoved Martina to the side and out of harm’s way. Then, he braced himself to take a hit that never came.

Instead, he found himself stumbling sideways and just barely out of the bull’s path as it barreled onward. His back hit something solid and stiff and before he could register that it was the fence, he scrambled over it. He blinked, turning his attention away from the animal and to Martina, who stood off to the side, her arms wrapped around her torso as she stared down at the ground. The panic and nausea that had been tearing him apart was replaced with a sudden rush of guilt.

A thin sheen of tears covered her eyes, the tan feathers on around her eyes and on her cheeks damp. She trembled, taking in a shuddery breath as he hobbled forward to place a hand on her shoulder. Something in her eyes flashed, a dam of some sort broke within her, but not one of tears. Not tears of sorrow, anyway. Her face contorted into an angry glare and she shoved him away. “Idiot! What the fuck were you thinking? You could have been killed!”

He hopped back, steadying himself on his good foot. “Wait just a minute! You’re mad at me now?”

“Damn straight I am,” she snapped. “Don’t ever ask me to leave you behind again! Not ever!”

Launchpad snorted derisively. “Are you seriously angry because--”

She stomped forward, fisting her hand around his dirtied shirt front and yanked him closer. He found himself hunched over uncomfortably, the end of his bill brushing against hers as she glared at him. Swallowing thickly, he ignored the heat rising to his face and was silently thanking the powers that be that he had feathers to cover up the red that was spreading across his face. How much would she hate him if he faltered just the tiniest bit, slipped forward and inadvertently kissed her? Something in her eyes flashed and the idea was dashed. He knew better than to try anything when she was this upset. “Promise me.”

“I promise…” he mumbled. He felt her grip loosen on his shirtfront. He straightened, placing some weight on his throbbing ankle. It was swollen and aching, but thankfully not broken.

He lifted his eyes.

* * * * * *

“Launchpad!”

Launchpad blinked rapidly, squinting as the bright midday sun suddenly filled his vision. A frigid winter wind buffeted his face and hair. Out of habit, he swiped at the end of his bill with a gloved hand. “…Whoa. Now, that was weird,” he muttered as he massaged his temple.

“LP, are you just going to stand there or are we going to show these kids how it’s done?” He turned to see Drake and Morgana approaching, a beat up football tucked under the shorter mallard’s arm.

The pilot tilted his head slightly, confusion etched on his face. “Huh?”

Drake tossed the football at him, clapping his hands together. LP fumbled with the ball for a moment before getting a better grip on it and automatically tucking it close to his chest. “It’s just a little three on three, LP. Adults versus kids,” he explained with a grin. “And we can’t lose this time. Honker and that weird girl with the camera are already at each other’s throats and it’s not even kick off yet.”

Launchpad lifted his eyes, looking across the yard to where Gosalyn was playing referee between Honker and Sophie again. He blinked, sepia toned memories surging forward. It seemed as if most of the games he, Loopy and Marty would play started off with an argument and his poor little sister trapped in the middle. Martina knew how to push his buttons when he didn’t even realize he had buttons to be pushed.

Morgana rolled her eyes. “Dark, I worry about you sometimes.”

Drake frowned, opening his mouth to reply when Launchpad spoke up. “I think I’m gonna sit this one out,” he muttered solemnly, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. “My ankle’s acting up on me again.”

Well, that's it for now. Hopefully, I can get a few chapters done and up on dA and FF.net soon :)

End of Term

Well, its my final day of class. For the next two weeks, I'll be out for my winter break and hopefully working on the projects that made me want to start this blog in the first place; mainly, Chasing Lily and my Darkwing fan comic/stories.

For now, enjoy some artwork. I'll definitely have more soon :)

Classroom Blues

Ugh. I was hoping to have art work and storylines to put up by now.

Instead, I've been trapped in classes all Saturday. Finals are evil. I mean, all inspiration, motivation...they're dead.

Bah, and now I have to take a test.

Well, here's hoping that Monday is way more productive...

Technically, I should be working right now...

I should be, but I'm not.

I don't know. Maybe it's just me, but I have a hard time taking that first step when I start anything, be it a drawing or a story/comic script. Granted, no one would know that I spent a good three days agonizing over the decision to start a blog if I hadn't just said it, but oh well. Now you know. Anyway...

I decided to start a blog mostly to have another place to show my artwork and sketches, possibly put up parts of my scripts and the like. Not to mention all the random things in between.

And that's about all I have for now :)