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galoots · 4 years

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Its springtime and you know what that means! Flowers are blooming, bees are buzzing, love is in the air, and Donald is up to some toddler shenanigans.

Scrooge stretched out on his lawn chair with a satisfied sigh. After a long, cold winter, the first day of spring was finally here, and everyone was taking advantage of the warm weather. Duckworth was hard at work in the garden, coaxing new shoots from the loam underneath him. His usual white gloves had been replaced with gardening gloves and he had even untucked his tail from his trousers—a rare occurrence indeed. Bobbing around the garden was Donald’s little bonneted head. The tyke was using his newly acquired walking skills to chase various critters around the yard. The creatures were too fast for him and his bumbling, uncertain steps, but the baby didn’t seem to mind. He kept at it with a singular purpose. The yard was alive with energy. Birds were all a-twitter, singing their love songs for hopeful mates. Squirrels busied themselves hunting around for food. Bees were buzzing about their hives and pollinating flowers.

Scrooge, however, was simply content to lie there and sun himself. After a winter locked up inside, doing paperwork and holding business meetings, it felt good to just sit in the sun and soak up the scene in front of him. His relaxation was put on hold briefly as little hands jostled him, desperate to get his attention. Peering over the side of his chair, he saw wee Donald excitedly bouncing up and down as he waited for his uncle to notice him.

“Hello there, sweetheart.” Scrooge shaded his eyes from the sun, squinting against the glare. “Got something for me?”

A bundle of mangled weeds, clumps of dirt still dangling from their roots, were clasped tightly in Donald’s pudgy hand. He pushed them into Scrooge’s with clumsy, uncalculated force. “Flowers,” was all he had to say.

Scrooge sniffed his wild bouquet were a dozen roses. They smelled of grass and dirt. “They smell wonderful. Thank you darling. I’ll keep them tucked in my lapel.”

Donald beamed up at him. “’Nother present for Unca!”

“What’s that, Donnie?”

“Eyes closed!” Donald demanded.

Doing as he was told, Scrooge held out his open hand. Sight or no sight, he was never sure what to expect from his mischievous duckling. He didn’t need his eyes to feel that the slimy mass Donald had plopped into his open hand was wriggling. His eyes shot open and Scrooge suppressed the urge to jerk his hand away and send the mass of worms flying. A shudder racked its way down his spine. Beads of sweat formed on his brow.

“T-thank you!” The tangle of worms in his palm writhed. “I-I love it!”

“Snack!”

“What?”

Donald pantomimed eating the worms, rubbing his stomach in big exaggerated circles. “Yum!”

“No!” Scrooge’s stomach flopped at the thought of throwing live worms into his open maw. “Absolutely not! We do not eat worms!”

Donald’s face dropped. His beak began to tremble. Scrooge knew all too well the tells of a toddler about to bawl.

“Ok! Look! Unca is going to eat them!” The worm squirmed as Scrooge held it aloft. In a way he hoped was convincing, Scrooge pretended to eat the poor critter. He dropped it behind his head Luckily, it wasn’t hard to trick a toddler, and Donald clapped happily as Scrooge partook of his pretend meal. “Mmm! Delicious!”

“Gonna get more!” Satisfied, Donald ran back to the garden.

Free from incriminating eyes, Scrooge unceremoniously dumped the worms on the grass. He wiped his hand frantically on his coat wiping his hand frantically on his coat.

“Hey!” Benedict snapped his head up, pointing his trowel directly at Scrooge. “Worms are good for the garden. Unless you want trouble, I’d strongly suggest you pick those gentlemen back up and deposit them next to the petunias, Scrooge.”

Scrooge sighed wearily. It was useless trying to argue. Benedict took gardening awfully seriously. He fished his handkerchief from his pocket and bent down to start picking up the worms.

Meanwhile, Donald had waddled over to Benedict’s side to see what all the hubbub was about. “Ducky!” Donald stood on his tippy toes to softly stroke Benedict’s head.

Benedict smiled warmly at the touch. “Hello dear.” Placing the trowel down, Benedict removed his gloves. “Come to join me in the garden?”

“Yah. Garden!” Donald bent to pick up the trowel his Ducky had just put down.

Benedict eased the tool from the toddler’s hands, directing his attention elsewhere. “Admire the flowers with me, poppet.”

Distracted, Donald let go of the trowel and grabbed roughly at the flower instead.

Benedict carefully pulled the tender petals from the toddler’s crushing grasp. “Softly now.” He warned. “Flowers are fragile.” Benedict took Donald’s hand in his own, guiding it to stroke the velvety petals.

“Soft.” Donald whispered.

“Indeed. But that’s not all. Give it a sniff.”

Benedict brought the flower to Donald’s bill so he could smell the flower. Donald inhaled. “Smell goo’.”

“Pretty isn’t it?”

“Pwetty.” Donald echoed.

Turning towards his Puppa, Donald placed a chubby hand on Benedict’s face. “Pwetty Ducky.”

Benedict blinked at the little hand on his face. “Me? I’m pretty?”

“Ya.” Donald patted Benedict’s face. “Flower pwetty. Ducky pwetty.”

“Well, aren’t you the charmer.” Benedict chuckled as he planted a kiss on Donald’s head. “Thank you, poppet.”

A stocky, squat figure momentarily blocked out the sun, casting a shadow over the garden.

“So you get compliments while I get worms.” Scrooge held his handkerchief at arm’s length, pinched between two fingers like a dirty nappy. The worms wriggled inside the cloth.

Duckworth smirked. “The boy has impeccable taste.” He graciously took the bundle of worms and freed them from their cloth prison. The worms burrowed into the dirt.

Scrooge scoffed and shoved Benedict’s shoulder playfully.

Pointing one pudgy finger accusatorially at his uncle, Donald yelled. “No hitting!” He looked very cross. “Bad Unca! No hit!”

Duckworth laughed. “Very good, poppet! Unca is being naughty. He deserves a time out. A sentence of sixty years with no baby kisses seems appropriate.”

Scrooge gasped. “That’s too harsh! I think that qualifies as cruel and unusual punishment.”

“No kissy?” Donald’s face fell. His face contorted and his bill started to waver.

Benedict and Scrooge shared a panicked look with one another. It was too late, however, to rectify the situation. A warbling cry pierced the air, causing all sentient life with eardrums to head for cover. Even the worms underneath the earth, stone-deaf as they were, winced as the vibrations reached them.

“Duckworth is making a joke, honeybunch!” Scrooge yelled over the ruckus.

Benedict had immediately covered his sensitive ears. “You can have all the kisses you want!”

Scrooge swooped the crying toddler into his arms. He hugged him tightly and peppered his face with kisses to prove his point. He jiggled the duckling in his arms, murmuring soothing words all the while. Donald’s crying faded into quiet sniffling. Instinctually, Scrooge reached for his handkerchief. He found his pocket empty. He had used it to gather the worms, and now it was crumpled against Duckworth’s ear.

With a sigh, he used his sleeve to wipe away his duckling’s tears. “There’s my bonny boy.” He smiled at the teary-eyed babe in his arms. “No need for tears.”

“Is it over?” Benedict shouted.

“It’s over. You can take your hands off your ears, Benedict.”

“What?” Benedict unclasped his hands. His ears perking up cautiously. “Oh.”

Scrooge chuckled heartily, patting Donald on the back.

“Dow’.” Donald demanded with a sharp tug of Scrooge’s sideburn.

“Ouch.” Scrooge obliged the demanding toddler, plopping him down on the grass. Having already forgotten the incident, Donald wandered over to admire the flowers again.

Benedict and Scrooge watched their ward silently for a moment, drinking in the moment of calm after the storm.

“I agree. With Donald, that is. About what he said earlier.” Scrooge roughly whispered.

Benedict’s ears perked up, trying to catch what Scrooge had said. “Hm?”

Covering his face with embarrassment, Scrooge faked a cough and deflected. “T-the flowers. They’re very pretty. You’ll be sure to win the best gardener prize this year for sure.”

“Meredith Hagemann—eat your heart out! That trophy is mine for the taking!”

The two of them chuckled in unison as Benedict cursed his horticultural rival. For a brief, unguarded moment, Scrooge stared wistfully at his friend crouched in the dirt. Benedict picked up his gloves once again–intent on getting back to work. He wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve Benedict in his life, but he was glad he was there. Perhaps the headiness of spring had gotten to him, for Scrooge opened his beak ready to tell him so. Before he could eke out whatever emotion-choked words dangled from the tip of his tongue, a terrible sight had stopped him. Benedict’s eyes opened in surprise as he spotted it too. Donald had grabbed one of Benedict’s prized petunias in his tiny hand and, in a frighteningly quick manner, shoved the blossom directly into his awaiting mouth. Scrooge dove to stop him, but it was far too late. Donald snapped the flower off its stem and munched on it happily.

Benedict couldn’t help but laugh.

#ldu #loots duck universe #disney ducks #fanfiction #duckverse #donald duck #team uncle

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letshargroovetonight · 6 years

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UHHHHHH can we talk about billy hurting himself after he tries to do something stupid to impress Steve and his plan totally backfires because

UMMMM anon! just thinking ‘bout billy doing this in the context of monster fighting??? where they’re trying to pull back because the baddies are getting overwhelming, but billy gets cocky, wants to get one last jab at the demodog that’s hounding after steve.

billy falls behind, readies his sledgehammer.

billy shrills out a loud whistle and the demodog turns towards him.

“billy!” he hears steve’s worried cry before it comes flying at him and billy gets in a good swing, the monster twisting off to the side with a shriek of pain.

billy pivots, whirls around to follow after steve and there’s a root or? he doesn’t fucking know, but he goes down hard tripping on it, must hit his head on a rock because pain explodes behind his eyes.

when he gets his bearings again a few seconds later, he shuffles around quickly, trying to get up but the demodog is on him, pinning him to the ground, screeching in his face.

an instant later, steve’s bat lands square in the back of his head, some monster parts landing on billy. steve grabs at his arm to pull him up.

“C’MON,” steve yells, grabbing at his hand and hauling billy away with him.

and steve is reprimanding him later, “why’d you DO THAT, you big galoot!?” and “you could’ve been really hurt!”

billy’s sitting there on the toilet in steve’s bathroom, letting steve steer is head this way and that while he assess the nasty bump and cut he has on his forehead.

“well?” steve pulls back, puts his hand on his hips, his parent-style of waiting for an answer.

billy just looks at him.

steve lets out a long-suffering sigh, gets down on his haunches to pull some anti-septic and cotton balls out from under the sink.

“that was really dumb, you know,” steve murmurs as he pats at billy’s cut. billy hisses, flinches away from the sting of it.

“when you went down i-” steve stops, shakes his head.

“i’m sorry,” billy says. he knows it was dumb and can’t imagine if that had been reversed. how he would’ve felt if he saw a demodog pounce on steve.

“just don’t do it again,” steve responds, cupping a hand against billy’s cheek.

billy nuzzles into his palm. i won’t.

#harringrove #billy trying to protect steve?#but does something stupid #and could've been hurt really bad #but steve ends up saving him instead #them protecting each otherrrrr #Anonymous #words

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junker-town · 7 years

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These teams stink at finding first basemen, and these teams are great

The Padres and Pirates have sure had a different time when it comes to filling their holes at first base. Also, Albert Pujols used to be amazing.

First basemen should be easy to find. This was the sabermetric orthodoxy when i started getting deep into baseball in the late ‘90s. Take any lumbering galoot with a 30-homer bat and plop him at first, where he can’t possibly do any damage. Every system should have four or five of these guys. It’s not that hard to find a first baseman. Tell ‘em, Wash.

It’s harder than you think, but generally doable.

Wash. Come on.

[sighs deeply] It’s incredibly hard.

Ha ha, yes! But that’s not really true, either. The real answer is that it’s harder than you think, but generally doable.

Now, wait just a damned minute

If you use the Baseball-Reference scale that suggests a two-win player is qualified to be a starter at the position, there have been 325 first basemen to hit that level since 1997. That means a little more than half the teams in baseball have had an average-or-better first baseman over the last two decades, which is roughly what you should expect.

There have been 312 catchers to hit that two-win mark, though, so it’s not like these first basemen grow on a hilarious, saggy first baseman tree. When you adjust for position, it’s nearly as hard to find starting-caliber first basemen as it is to find a starting-caliber catcher.

Ah, but the difference is in the stars. Most of those catchers were between two to five wins. First basemen are where the MVPs and 40-homer seasons are. There have been 20 first basemen seasons of 7 WAR or more over the last 20 years, which is nearly triple the number for catchers. Part of that is because catchers don’t play 162 games, usually. Another part of that is dingers.

Which teams have been lousy at finding starting-caliber first basemen? Which teams have been good at finding All-Star first basemen? We’re using the Baseball-Reference guidelines, which go like this:

2+ starter 5+ All-Star 8+ MVP

The absolute worst

Josh Bell is hitting .242/.329/.484 with 9 home runs for the Pirates. He’s 24 and has a bright future ahead of him.

You should root for Josh Bell.

You should root for him because the Pirates have had three starting-level first basemen in the last 20 years according to the Baseball-Reference scale. Three! Here’s a list of the 10-best seasons from a Pirates first basemen in the last 20 years:

Kevin Young, 1999 (5.6 WAR)

Kevin Young, 1997 (2.8)

Josh Phelps, 2007 (1.5)

Adam LaRoche, 2007 (1.4)

Kevin Young, 1998 (1.4)

Adam LaRoche, 2008 (1.3)

John Jaso, 2016 (1.0)

Derrek Lee, 2011 (0.9)

Gaby Sanchez, 2013 (0.7)

Casey McGehee, 2012 (0.4)

There have been 41 Pirates over the last 20 years who have played more than 75 percent of their games at first base. Of those, one of the 10 best was Casey McGehee in 2012.

He hit .230/.297/.377 that year.

There’s a table that shows every team in baseball, and there isn’t another one that comes close. The Pirates have been abhorrent at finding first basemen. In 20 years, 41 different Pirates first basemen have combined for 7.1 wins above replacement. That’s 0.35 wins per season. It’s 0.17 wins per player.

So, anyway, root a little extra for Josh Bell, would you?

The teams that couldn’t find one lousy All-Star

This is a weird combination. Both teams have resources. Both teams have had good first basemen, and recently, too. But according to Baseball-Reference, neither of them have enjoyed the production of a 5-win first baseman for 20 years.

This is the Giants/Dodgers rivalry that nobody talks about, really.

In case you were unaware, Giants fans are super, super weird about Brandon Belt. Turns out there’s a little science behind that, as he hasn’t had that one boffo breakout season, even as he’s been productive. Since becoming a starter in 2012, he’s had a 1-WAR season (2014, where he kept getting broken by people throwing baseballs), a 3-WAR season, and three 4-WAR seasons. But nothing that ascended into the stratosphere. He’s on that same path this year — .244/.356/.465 in an extreme pitcher’s park, with solid defense — and it’s driving local talk radio mad.

This is but one of the reasons that Pirates fans want to pull the nose hairs out of the head of every Giants fan they see.

The Dodgers have enjoyed four straight solid seasons from Adrian Gonzalez, which might not be exactly what they were hoping for when they absorbed Carl Crawford’s contract as an Adrian Gonzalez tax, but it could have been worse. In 699 games with the Dodgers, he’s hit .282/.343/.457, which is perfectly acceptable. Those are the kinds of numbers that would make Giants fans yell, “Awful, trade him for prospects and move Posey to first,” so you know they’re okay.

But the Dodgers haven’t gotten over that All-Star hump in a while. From Eric Karros through James Loney and now an aging Gonzalez, they’ve been pretty good at being pretty good, but not better.

The most consistent team when it comes to finding first basemen, somehow

I guess this is a segue from the previous section filled with Adrian Gonzalez talk, but I still wasn’t expecting to see the Padres here. In the last 20 years, they’ve had 16 seasons with a starting-caliber first baseman, missing out in 1999, 2003, 2013, and 2014.

It’s not just the five seasons from Gonzalez that are filling out the list. There are solid seasons from Ryan Klesko, Phil Nevin, Wally Joyner, and Yonder Alonso in there, too. They even got solid campaigns from Jesus Guzman and Mark Sweeney, too. Not only that, but they’re set up for a few years with Wil Myers, so they probably won’t be going anywhere.

Not bad for a team that traded Anthony Rizzo away for a young pitcher with a sore shoulder. Not bad at all.

Holy crap, Albert Pujols

Apologies if that’s a little coarse, but there’s no other name that works for this section. Now that Pujols is making a billionty dollars per year for the next decade and sounds like a rusty playground swing when he bends over to tie his shoes, it’s easy to forget just how great he was.

Do not forget how great he was.

There have been 19 different MVP-caliber seasons according to the Baseball-Reference WAR scale. John Olerud had one. Miguel Cabrera had one. Paul Goldschmidt had one. Todd Helton had three.

Albert Pujols had eight.

What an alien.

While I’m not a zealot when it comes to WAR, it really matches my intuition and anecdotal assumptions when it comes to the value of first basemen. Was Todd Helton better than nearly everyone? Yes. Is Brandon Belt good, but not top-tier? Yes. Was Ryan Howard fantastic for a while before he dropped off substantially? Yes.

And did Albert Pujols demolish them all without remorse? Oh, man, yes. He was so incredible, and his swift decline bums me out. Still, be happy for the WARs he won, not the WARs he lost.

The full list is here, with links to Baseball-Reference for each search. Find your team! Share with your friends! And root for Josh Bell. Please, don’t forget to root for Josh Bell.

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