Just Another Story

"Happy Male Caretaker Day!"

The familiar exclamation rang out through the hall, but it wasn't addressed to Donald this time. At least, not this particular one. The boys had already greeted him earlier that morning.

Instead he watched from around the corner, out of sight, as the boys had to explain it to Scrooge: what the greeting was, what it meant, and why they used it instead of "Happy Father's Day" like most others would use for today. Although that last one was a bit more difficult, since the boys themselves probably weren't aware of the real reason he asked that they didn't celebrate Father's Day.

But really, it wasn't complicated. To put it simply, Donald wasn't their father.

Sure, he knew that he acted like their father; he had raised them, took care of them, worried (often too much) about their wellbeing, and loved them like any father would his children. But after everything was said and done, they still weren't his children.

Because they would always be Della's children.

The first few months after Della's disappearance had been the hardest; he'd barely had any time to grieve losing his sister when, as her closest relative, the boys had been placed in his care. But while he didn't have much time to mourn, something else took hold in the darkest corners of his heart, far removed from anything he would ever admit to anyone. Because at that time, with everything that had happened…he had started to resent Della.

At the time Della had announced she was having kids, having children of his own was the farthest thing from Donald's mind. Then one day she was gone, and he went from barely being able to take care of himself to suddenly having to take care of infant triplets. And while he had babysat for Della before, it was vastly different from having to raise the boys on his own.

(But it had to be on his own, because he refused to let them get caught up in the life that took their mother away in the first place.)

He hadn't been ready to be a parent, and deep down, he hadn't wanted to be. He hadn't wanted the responsibility of raising children, of being the one to take care of them, of having their lives depend on him. He hadn't wanted any of it…and while he had agreed to taking care of the boys because Della was his sister, he started to hate her for leaving him to deal with her kids.

And that...terrified him.

Just the idea that...anything could make him so bitter towards his sister at all really scared him, especially since he knew that she would still be here if it had been up to her. If she had a say, she would be the one raising her kids, having the family they hadn't really had growing up and being the mother she'd always wanted to be.

And the boys certainly deserved better. They should have the best mother in the world, but instead only had him as a poor replacement.

He tried, though. Perhaps because it was the guilt of being so resentful towards Della, or the realization that they really do deserve better, but after the initial fear and reluctance of having to raise three children by himself, he threw everything he had into it. He did everything he could to make sure they were healthy and (relatively) happy. He wanted to give them the best he had to offer, even if that wasn't really much in the first place.

And in taking care of them – seeing them grow, getting to know them – he fell in love with them. Soon, they stopped being just Della's kids and became his nephews, his boys. So much so that at times, he found himself wishing that they were his kids…that he could be their father, because he was already starting to see them as his sons.

Around the time the boys started talking, there was a brief period where they had called him "Dad", in that babbling talk that babies used when first learning to speak. He didn't know where they had picked it up, other than maybe some of the cartoons he'd let them watch when he needed a bit of time to himself. But he wasn't sure how or why they associated him with "Dad" ("Dada", "Papa", same thing), and yet they started calling him that for a time.

And for a while, he considered letting them. Having them believe he was actually their dad would have been easier than trying to explain what happened to their mother down the line. And he was like their father anyway, wasn't he? Maybe he could pretend…

Until he remembered that the only reason he had the boys now – these three boys that he'd come to love so much – was because Della was gone in the first place. And that made him feel even worse.

Because what kind of brother was he to take his sister's children as his own? To even think...of never even mentioning her to them, when she was the reason they existed in the first place? He hadn't even wanted them at first, or wanted kids at all. But Della had…she always had. And he only started raising them – started wanting to take care of them – because she was gone. Yet he was okay with letting the boys think he was their real parent?

No, he couldn't do that to them…to any of them. Not to his sister, who was the one who had wanted these boys in the first place, or to the boys, who deserved to know where they really came from.

So he started correcting them, telling them he was their uncle whenever they tried to call him "dad". It didn't take long for them to catch on, either, learning quickly enough to call him "Uncle Donald". And he knew it was the right thing to do, being honest with them…he just never expected it to hurt so much.

Especially when they did start asking about their mother, because he found himself unable to talk about her.

He never meant to keep Della from the boys, and had wanted to tell them about her. But he had spent so much time taking care of them that he never realized how much it would hurt to talk about her after so long…because he still had never dealt with losing her himself.

But as terrible as he felt for not being able to tell them much about her, he could never bring himself to tell them anything. Maybe one day he would be able to tell them more, but for now he could only take comfort in the fact that they knew who their mother was…that they had a mother who cared about them, and that he wasn't their real dad.

"Hey, Uncle Scrooge!"

Scrooge paused mid-step, looking up from the file he'd been browsing through. He was still never sure how to feel when all three of them were calling for him all at once. "What is it, boys?" he asked, hoping there was some semblance of patience in his tone.

He watched the three bound up to him, each wearing a smile that he recognized as someone wanting something from him. "Any adventures lined up for today?" Huey asked, his voice eager and hopeful.

He felt his brow rise in question. "No…none that I'm aware of." In fact, he had planned to spend a quiet Sunday going over some paperwork he'd been neglecting.

"Do you think we can head on one today? Some treasure to find, or ruins to explore…soon? Right now?" Dewey pressed, and Scrooge wasn't sure what to make of his rather frenzied tone.

With a puzzled frown, he closed the file in his hand. "Well…" he said, drawing out the word as he tried to think of how to tell them that he didn't have any leads on anything at the moment.

He was spared from having to answer, though, as Donald, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, suddenly scooped the boys up. "Sorry, boys, no adventures today," he said. "We've gotta get going soon."

All three of them groaned. "But, Uncle Donald –" Louie started.

"No buts." Donald voice was firm, but Scrooge was just surprised how his nephew was able to carry all three boys at once. "You know what we're doing today."

Clearly, the boys did know, judging by the chagrined looks on their faces. Scrooge, however, did not. "Where are ye all heading?" he wondered.

He watched Donald hesitate, an uncertain expression passing over the younger man's face, and it was a long moment before he finally replied, "…The cemetery."

Whatever answer Scrooge had been expecting, it certainly wasn't that. "The cemetery?" he repeated, wondering if he'd heard right.

Placing the boys down, Donald waved a hand. "It's just for a little while, on our way to the farm to visit Grandma Duck." Then he finally met Scrooge's eyes. "It's Mother's Day."

"Mother's –" He drew in a sharp breath as the pieces started coming together. "…I see." His fingers drummed against the curve of his cane. "Do you, ah…go every year?"

Donald nodded. "Yeah. I mean, we try to, anyway. We can't make it sometimes if I'm, uh…working."

Scrooge returned the nod in understanding. He wouldn't be surprised if Donald had taken a few out of town jobs from time to time. "I see."

He didn't really have anything else to say to that, and really, he wasn't sure why he was asking. It wasn't as though he had much of a reason to celebrate Mother's Day himself, these days.

…Though he wondered if that might explain Beakley's disappearance today.

His attention was drawn to the boys as he noticed them fidget, glancing at each other. They seemed to be having a silent conversation amongst themselves, because he could see when a decision was made a few moments before Louie spoke up again. "Uncle Donald, do we have to go?"

The answer was immediate. "Yes."

Scrooge couldn't help another curious glance at the boys. "You don't like visiting your great-grandmother?" That sounded a bit odd since, while he hadn't seen Elvira in quite some time, as far as he knew everyone liked her.

"Well, it's not that," Huey replied, a bit quickly as he suddenly seemed a little nervous. "Visiting the farm is fine, and we like getting to see Grandma Duck. It's…It's just –"

"It's going to the cemetery," Dewey retorted, his eyes a bit narrow as he looked to Donald. "It's not like our mom is there."

A sudden chill seemed to fill the room, the silence following those words deafening.

It seemed to last forever, but it was quickly broken as Dewey seemed to muster up enough nerve to continue on, "It's not fair!"

"Dewey – " Huey hissed sharply, but Dewey shrugged him off as he took a step towards Donald.

"Every year we visit your mom, or someone else's mom, but you still haven't told us anything about our mom!" Dewey's fingers curled tightly into his palm, but there was something in his eyes besides anger as he looked at Donald. "Why do you have to keep so many secrets from us? Why won't you let us know who she is?"

Scrooge's fingers tightened around his cane. While he wasn't one to talk regarding how much information he disclosed about Della (or didn't, as was usually the case), he never took a moment to wonder just how much the boys knew about her. Honestly, he didn't think he would have to. With as close as the two of them had been, he would have imagined Donald telling the boys almost everything he could about Della.

But a quick glance at Donald helped him to understand; the boys were each too wrapped up in their own thoughts and feeling and arguing about the matter, that they didn't noticed the expression on Donald's face. Or if they did, they didn't realize just how bad it was.

Oh, but he could see it. Scrooge had seen that same pain, that same grief and heartbreak reflected in the mirror so many times that he couldn't help but recognize it.

Which was why he spun the cane in his hand; the curved end sent a sharp echo through the hall as it struck the ground just in front of Dewey, startling him into jumping back and pulling the boys from their discussion.

"That is ENOUGH," his voice boomed throughout the hallway. Turning to the boys he pointed the cane at them. "This conversation is over."

"But – " Dewey tried. However, Scrooge was quicker.

"No buts! I won't hear any more of it. Now you boys go get ready to see your Grandma Duck with your uncle." When they didn't move, he used his cane to steer them towards their rooms. "Go on. No arguments."

They hesitated a moment longer, clearly not happy with the outcome. But eventually the boys sulked off to get ready, leaving him and Donald alone in the hall.

And as the tension started to settle, the silence quickly grew awkward. Luckily it was easily broken as Donald cleared his throat. "Uh…thanks," he murmured, not meeting Scrooge's eyes.

Scrooge answered with a nod, because he understood. Despite how long they had been living together since Donald and the boys moved into the mansion, Della was still a rather sore spot between them. It was so much easier to get along with each other by ignoring that one topic completely.

He just never imagined that Donald avoided it with boys as well…not that Scrooge was really one to talk about things like that.

With another clearing of his throat, Donald turned to start heading off. "I better…go start the car."

It was a lame excuse to leave, and they both knew it, but Scrooge ran with it anyway. "Aye. I should be getting back to work meself."

He started to go, but paused and turned back in Donald's direction. "What time do y'think you'll be back?"

Donald glanced back at him as he thought. "I dunno. We might have dinner with Grandma."

With another nod, Scrooge headed off again. "Well, tell Elvira I said Happy Mother's Day."

"Will do," he heard Donald's retreating voice reply. Then he was alone.

He made it to his office easily enough, but he knew he wasn't going to get any work done anymore. And it wasn't for a lack of trying, as he stared at the piles of documents on his desk that needed his attention.

But eventually he gave up pretending, pinching between his eyes as he sighed and sagged back in his chair. Then he took a moment, listening to the stillness throughout the mansion. And once he was sure that he wouldn't be bothered, he opened the top drawer of his desk.

The drawer itself was mostly empty, save for two picture frames. Both were face down, forcing him to retrieve both frames and turn them over. The first photo was one of him with Donald and Della; he couldn't remember exactly when it was taken, but the two looked to be about adults in the image, so he had to guess it was closer to the time when Della…well, closer to that time.

The second frame held a family portrait of him with his parents and sisters back in Scotland. He and his sisters were all children in the picture; Hortense hadn't even been speaking yet when the photo was taken. It was an old picture, but it was the only photo he had of all of the family together. Shortly afterwards he had left for America to seek his fortune, and their family had never been the same after that.

Propping the stands up, he put the frames on his desk to look at each of the pictures. Then he sighed again. He felt a little silly, but…it also felt like something he needed to do.

So, after a long moment of the silence pounding in his ears, he spoke out loud, "Ma…Hortense, Della…Happy Mother's Day."

The persistent silence was his only answer. Not that he expected anything different, but it didn't dull the ache in his heart. And with a sudden need to fill the quiet, to fill the emptiness, he continued on.

"I wish you were here…all of you." He gripped his cane tighter to keep his hands from trembling. "There's so much you've all missed…too much to even tell you. Della…I think ye'd be proud of how yer boys are growin'. There's a part of you in each of them. Donald's done well in takin' care of 'em."

He glanced at the image of his youngest sister; she had been so young then, but he never had the chance to really appreciate the woman she had grown into. "Hortense…I'm sorry I couldn't take care of yer girl. I know if ye were still here, ye'd kick my tail five ways tae Sunday." He chuckled softly, but it lacked any real warmth. "But I know ye would have been proud of her…just as ye should be proud of yer son. Even after all he's been through, he still pushes on tae take care of those boys. He has a strength I only wish I could have…I'm sorry ye never got tae see what he can do."

First Donald and Della with Hortense…now Huey, Dewey, and Louie with Della so many years later. Maybe their family was cursed. Something in the McDuck blood that forced the children in their family to grow up without their mothers, a curse so terrible that not even being married into the Duck family could save them from it.

He glanced at the image of his own mother, taking in every detail of the gentle face that he, shamefully, had trouble remember at times. He and his sisters had at least been adults when they lost her (not that the fact brought any comfort). But he had been an entire ocean away when she passed. He never had the chance to say a proper goodbye.

He sighed, sitting back in his chair. "I'm sorry, Ma," he murmured. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you…for any of you. I only wish you could be here for them. They miss you all."

To be honest, Donald still kind of hated living at the mansion.

On the one hand, it was comforting knowing that he didn’t have to constantly worry about providing for the boys. With Scrooge’s help, he knew the boys would always have something to eat and a stable roof over their heads.

But in a lot of ways, that was part of the problem.

Living with Scrooge, the boys not only had a house and plenty to eat – things that Donald had struggled so hard to give them all their lives – but they now had a world of adventure and excitement opened to them. Not just the things they needed, but things they’ve always wanted…things that Donald had never been able to give them before. Even though he had done his best to give the boys a good life, his best hadn’t been good enough.

Just like it hadn’t been good enough back then.

He still blamed Scrooge for what happened to Della. But part of him blamed himself just as much. If he had just been a better adventurer, maybe Scrooge wouldn’t have needed Della to come along on that last adventure. If he had just been a better brother, maybe he could have saved her. If he had just been better, maybe the boys would have their mother…instead of just him.

But in the end, it was all the same. He had done his best, but no matter how hard he tried – to be a good adventurer, a good nephew, a good brother, a good uncle – it just was never enough.

Being a hero came in many shapes and forms. And Storkules was familiar with each and every one of them.

That was why he considered Donald Duck to be his best friend.

Scrooge and Della were heroic in their own right, of course. And Donald’s nephews were well on their way to following in the valiant footsteps of their predecessors. But Donald’s heroism was a different sort – a quieter, less showy kind of heroism that Storkules himself sometimes had trouble with. Donald’s acts of bravery were often not seen, but were nonetheless inspiring and wonderful.

Donald was a hero not by choice, but because those he held dear needed him to be.

And it pained him that he was one of only a few who recognized it. But by the gods, he would continue to shout it out until the whole world could see who Donald Duck truly was.

"How the heck did I win?"

Scrooge can't help raising a curious  brow at that, somewhat surprised that Donald had to ask. Honestly, he hadn't had any doubts that his nephew would pull through.

…Okay, maybe some doubts. But the initial shock had worn off quickly when the most important factors were taken into consideration.

Donald certainly had the worst luck imaginable. He wasn't the strongest, and by far from the smartest. But when it comes to family, Donald possessed a gift that not even Scrooge himself could match.

At first, she hadn't thought much of the chatter of the crowd quieting some, caught up in her own conversation with Elvira to really notice. It wasn't until catching a glimpse of an all too familiar top hat, approaching the porch where the two of them stood that she finally looked herself, tensing as she saw someone she had not seen in quite a while.

"What's wrong?" Elvira asked, noticing her attention was divided.

She didn't respond right away, especially as her eyes caught his in the crowd. When she finally did speak, it was with difficulty to keep her voice level, "Maybe you should check on the twins, Elvira."

Hesitating a moment, the older woman nodded. As she stepped down from the porch, though, she paused. "Will you be all right?"

She nodded, her shoulders squared as she stepped off the porch herself. "Aye. I just need a few words with my brother."

The skirt of her dress billowed around her as she quickly walked forward, and the friends and family gathered seeming to move out of her way as she went to meet him. Soon they stood in front of each other, and she folded her arms across her chest as she stared him down.

"Scrooge."

His fingers flexed a bit as he gripped his cane, but his expression was unreadable as he returned her gaze.

"Matilda."

The tension around them was heavy as silence followed their terse greetings, and the people around them drifted away to give them some semblance of privacy; as much as was possible as they stood in the middle of the farm's property.

She gave him the courtesy to explain himself, but when he said nothing after a while longer she had to check herself from snapping as she spoke, "So? What are you doing here?"

His eyes narrowed a fraction, and she didn't miss the way his free hand curled into a fist before he tucked it behind his back, trying to stand a bit straighter. "I think we both know why I'm here."

The scoff escaped her before she could stop it. "Forgive me if I'm havin' trouble believing y'actually cared for our sister, with how we last saw ye."

She knew she shouldn't have, but Matilda couldn't help feeling a bit gratified as he winced and averted his gaze. She could only hope he felt some shame with how their last meeting ended.

"…A-Aye," he finally said after another long moment, and even after all this time she could still hear how weary his tone was, though he was trying to hide it. His shoulders still sagged a bit though, and he sighed. "I-It was…wrong of me to treat you all the way I did. I was wrong, and…I'm sorry." His grip on his cane tightened as he shook his head. "I just wish I'd had the sense to realize it before it was too late."

Her own posture relaxing some, she still hesitated, the longing to forgive her brother warring with the pain of being rejected and cast out from his life. It had felt like so long ago, but it had only been a couple of years since he had returned to Duckburg, caring only about his money and status as richest man in the world above even them, his family.

They had promised then that they would not speak to him unless something changed…but he was here now, admitting that he was wrong. Surely that counted, didn't it?

If only the person who had decided that in the first place was still here.

But it was up to her now, and so she sighed. "Well…you've come around, at least," she said slowly, her tone equally as worn-out. Unlike her siblings, Matilda's temper never ran as high, and in all honesty she was just tired of being angry all the time. "I'm only sorry that it took this for it to happen."

Scrooge glanced at the people gathered at the farm, the family and friends who had come together to mourn their shared loss. "…So am I."

Movement off to the side caught their attention, and they both looked over to see Elvira leading two children towards the house. Scrooge drew up a bit, inhaling a sharp breath. "Are those – ?"

She nodded. "Hortense's children. Donald and Della."

They watched as the two sat on the steps of the porch, and Elvira slipped into the house. Scrooge shook his head. "They're such wee ones, aren't they?"

"Aye…Too young to be experiencin' a loss like this." Scrooge and she at least had been adults when their mother, and many years later their father, had passed away. But the twins were still so young, and to have both parents ripped away from them so soon…

Too soon…

She hadn't realized she had been crying until Scrooge offered her a handkerchief, and she took it with trembling hands. Even as she tried to wipe her tears, though, more kept coming as the weight of the deaths of her sister and brother-in-law returned full force. After a moment she felt Scrooge's arm around her shoulders, and as he drew her closer she could feel the slight tremor that passed through him as well.

They remained that way for what felt like hours, but only a few moments passed before she was able to compose herself. It was with some reluctance though that she drew away from him, this time able to dry her eyes.

"Thank you," she murmured, the exhaustion once again weighing down on her. "I haven't…had much of a chance to take it all in yet meself. I've been so wrapped up trying to help take care of the young'uns."

Scrooge glanced over once again to where the children sat, watching as Elvira returned to them from inside the house. "What's goin' tae happen with them now?"

"Elvira insisted on raising them herself, here on the farm." Matilda sighed softly. "I would have taken them in, but I didn't think they'd be too keen to go back to Scotland with me."

He turned back to her sharply, eyes wide with surprise. "You're leavin'?"

She nodded. "Aye." She waved off his shock with her hand. "Dinnae worry, it won't be for some time yet. I want t'make sure the children have settled right. But…eventually, yes, I'll be headin' home. Unlike you and Hortense, I never found a reason to stay State-side."

Scrooge's frown deepened at that, and for a moment it looked like he was going to say something. Instead, he looked over again to where the children sat. "So they'll be stayin' here, eh?"

His words had a tone that she recognized as one he used when he had an idea, like he was up to something, and she couldn't help the suspicious feeling that started to rise. "Just what are ye plannin' now?"

Scrooge squared his shoulders, and picking up his cane started marching towards the house. "I may not have been there for Hortense and her husband…but I can change that with her children."

She followed after him, and catching Elvira's gaze as they neared she only nodded, letting the Duck family matriarch know that Scrooge was all right…and she certainly hoped that she was right, and wouldn't regret letting her older brother talk with Hortense's children.

She hoped he wouldn't disappoint her this time around.

The children finally noticed them as they stood in front of the porch steps, but Scrooge seemed to hesitate. From where she stood, she could see his hand twitching some as it rested behind his back. Was he…nervous?

It took another moment of the twins staring him down before he cleared his throat. "Hello, children," he said, and it was already apparent how unaccustomed he was to speaking with children. "Do ye know who I am?"

Donald suddenly appeared rather nervous, and Matilda couldn't say why he seemed to try to hide behind Della. Even stranger, Scrooge chuckled, pointing the end of his cane at Donald.

"Aye, I see you remember. I still owe y'one for that shot you took." Resting the end of the cane in the ground, he folded both hands over the curve he held, and there might have been something oddly proud in his grin. "Still, it was a good shot…one I might've even deserved, lookin' back."

Matilda couldn't help but wonder what he was talking about, but didn't get a chance to ask him as Della finally spoke up, soft and unsure, "You're…our uncle…right?"

With a nod, Scrooge tilted back his hat some. "Aye, that I am. I'm your mother's brother…your uncle…Scrooge McDuck."

Donald fidgeted a bit, looking at Scrooge uncertainly. "…Mom was always mad at you."

She stiffened a bit at that. She wasn't sure how much of their first encounter with their uncle they remembered, but she and Hortense had done their best not to speak about Scrooge around the children after that. Or at least, whenever she was with Hortense. Had her younger sister talked about Scrooge a lot at home with her husband?

Scrooge, however, didn't seem all that surprised. "Aye. She had a right tae be too, all things considered. I'm sorry I never got a chance to make it up to her. But I'd like tae make it up to the two of you, if that's all right."

Della tilted her head a bit. "How?"

"Well…" He knelt down in front so he was more eye-level with them. "Since you'll be living here with your grandmother, I was thinkin' of comin' by to visit ye more often. Why, I can even take you on a few trips here and there, 'long as it's all right with your grandma. Y'think ye'd like that?"

The twins slid off the porch steps as they got to their feet, glancing at each other before looking to her, a bit uncertain. She could only manage a small smile, hoping it was more encouraging than she felt. While she was delighted that Scrooge was trying – and even showing some traces of the older brother she had once known – she couldn't help still feeling somewhat nervous over all this.

She couldn't help worrying whether Scrooge being present in their lives would really be a good thing.

Whatever worries she had, though, quickly faded when the twins suddenly hugged Scrooge, and as her brother returned the embrace, holding them both close, she realized that maybe he needed this as much as the two of them did. And whatever doubts and fears still lingered, she decided that she wouldn't let them get in the way any longer either. She wasn't about to let those reservations keep Scrooge away…not when he was trying to come back now.

Fic Prices:

100 words or less - $2

Samples:

Sonic the Hedgehog - words: 18 - prompt: silence

Sonic disappeared in a thundering boom, but the echoing quiet was more deafening now that she was alone.

Sailor Moon - words: 55

Minako understood the reason...she knew it was impossible, knew it was something never meant for her - knew she was fated to never fall in love - yet she continued to try, never giving up hope that maybe Adonis' prediction was wrong; Destiny had been changed before, who's to say that it couldn't happen again?

Wild Kratts - words: 98

Groundhog’s Day fic

100-500 words - $5-8

Samples:

Tinted - Disney’s Snow White - words: 100

Stars - Super Robot Monkey Team Hyperforce Go! - words: 295

Loss - Kung Fu Panda - words: 340

501-1000 words - $8-10

Samples:

Untitled Halloween fic - Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - words: 541

Shine - RWBY - words: 551

Relic - Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Sky - words: 625

1001-4000 words - $10-15

Samples:

Fragmented - My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic - words: 1,372

Breaking the Ice - Avatar: The Last Airbender - words: 2,563

Returning Home - Young Justice - words: 2,966

Over 4000 words - around $15

Samples:

The Simple Things - Phineas and Ferb - words: 4,241

Out of the Box - Toy Story - words: 5,863

A Work of Art - Super Mario Bros - words: 7,727

More writing examples can be found here!

I’m pretty open to most things, and will do my best to write a fic that will satisfy you. However, there are a few things where I must draw a line.

Things I will NOT write:

Smut

Excessive gore/violence

Horror

Incest

Multi-chapter fics - While I am fine with writing longer stories, I would rather not write anything that needs more than one chapter.

Real persons fics - The only exceptions to these are people who have fictional counterparts or have appeared in a fictional setting - e.g., the Kratt Brothers in Wild Kratts, or Clay Aiken making an appearance in Phineas and Ferb.

Fandoms I’m unfamiliar with - A general idea of fandoms I know can be found here under the “canons” list, but there might also be fandoms I know that aren’t on that list. If you’d like to know whether or not I’d be willing to write for something, feel free to ask!

Rules

I have the right to accept or deny any commission, if I feel I am unable to properly write a fic. I will, however, offer to write a different fic in its place.

If a fic is taking to long to be written and/or I feel I am unable to finish it, I will also offer to write a different fic in its place.

I will do my best to attempt OCs. However, profiles and detailed descriptions must be provided so I can properly write for them. And once again, I do reserve the right to deny a commission if I feel I cannot write it.

Please do not send payment unless your commission is accepted and completed.

I accept payment as USD via Paypal only

Payment will only be accepted after the fic is completed on my end. However, payment must be given in full before the fic can be received.

I will ask permission before posting the story somewhere. You CAN say you do not want it posted anywhere and thus I will only send the story to you. However, I do reserve the right to post the story to my DW journal for personal reference.

However, please DO NOT repost a fic I’ve written for you without my permission first. And if I agree to let you post my fic, then please properly credit the fic to me.

Commissions cannot be made anonymously.

Fic Commission Slots:

[Open]

[Open]

[Open]

[Open]

[Open]

If you’re interested in commissioning me, email me at [email protected] OR send me an ask/fanmail. Also, if you have any other questions or concerns, feel free to ask!