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waveypedia · 3 years

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The Family We Make

Companion piece to Leaving the Nest (can be read in any order)

Ao3

After Bradford is defeated, it takes hours for the adrenaline of the day to wear off.

Fenton calls his mother, who brings half of Duckburg’s police force over much sooner than should be humanly possible. Any questioning stares are met with amused shrugs and Gyro’s passionate declaration to never get between Officer M.A.M.A. Cabrera and her son. Spoken from experience, of course. Officer Cabrera’s officers and the superheroes present arrest FOWL’s goons. (Pepper gives May and June goodbye hugs.)

The villains are gone, of course, having split with the help of Magica’s sorcery and a harmless raven on her shoulder. They’d left with winks and playful smiles tossed over their shoulders. Almost friendly, but not quite. Familiar. The promises of future tussles and battles left unsaid in the desert air. No one says anything outright, but the villains’ smooth departure puts a smile on everyone’s faces. It’s the promise of a next time. Of countless adventures to come. Bradford, for all his meticulous and careful planning, lost.

Goldie steals Manny away to ride into the nearest town and comes back with a cooler of snacks. Uncle Scrooge - Dad (Dad!) - and Granny level their fiercest glares at her and pointedly ask if she paid for them. Goldie giggles behind her hand and avoids the question, dropping a packaged ice cream cone in Dewey’s hands. He lights up, and Dad melts just like the ice cream under the hot desert sun.

Webby, sitting blissfully between Dad and Granny, has a perfect view of their conversation with Goldie. She keeps shooting Webby weird looks, like she isn’t quite sure what to make of her. Honestly, Webby doesn’t really blame her. Webby has always been Granny’s granddaughter through and through, and she inherited Granny’s disdain for Goldie and protectiveness of Dad.

Webby leans against Dad, and he puts an arm around her. Steady and protective, although she can feel his heart fluttering in his chest. He’s exhausted too - he went through perhaps the most today, at least physically. They’re both too tired to speak, at least right now, but they’re content enough to be in each others’ presence.

Dewey leads the other kids to the ice cream, and they wave her over. Gosalyn passes a cone to her, and Huey hands her a napkin. She sits sandwiched between Boyd and June, eating ice cream on the ramp of the plane. Violet is holding Lena’s cone because Lena is busy weaving friendship bracelets for May and June.

Webby glances back to where Dad and Granny have set up camp. Members of their family are filtering through, offering assistance and comfort. Donald’s leading a team to fix the plane, and Ludwig is bringing a group through FOWL’s headquarters like a tour guide, to pick up any evidence and missing mysteries. Gyro is off to the side, painstakingly fixing Boyd’s body and the Gizmosuit, with Della hovering over his shoulder and making snarky remarks he pretends to be bothered by.

Soon they’ll be in the air, and she still hasn’t talked to Dad. Really talked to him.

Fear starts to pool in Webby’s gut. He seemed to take it well enough, but that was in the middle of the fight. What if he doesn’t want to be her father? What if this changes her relationship with her other family members?

Webby squeezes her cone so hard it cracks and melted ice cream spills onto her hand.

Why should a piece of parchment, magic or not, decide her family, when she’s spent years cultivating and choosing the perfect family of her own? For better or for worse?

A familiar hand waves in front of her face, green sleeves flapping in the slight breeze, and Webby jumps, startled. Her family, no longer contentedly eating their ice cream, are all staring at her with varying degrees of worry.

“Hey, Webs?” Louie blinks at her and shoves his hands back in the pocket. “You were kinda spacing out there.”

Webby shakes herself back into the present and grins sheepishly at him. “Sorry. What’s up?”

Louie jerks a thumb inside the plane. “Mom just came by. We’re about ready to start heading back. Reinforcements just got here, and they’re going to take everyone else home.”

Webby blinks and casts a quick glance around the desert, cultivated by years of spy training and adventuring. Della is indeed a few paces away, talking to Launchpad, next to the broken plane wing looking as good as new. On the other side of the plane, Amunet and D’jinn are talking to Goldie and Storkules as they enter Gladstone’s blimp. The desert is clearing out, and those who haven’t already left are busy packing up any supplies.

Dad and Granny amble over with the rest of the adults into the plane. Dad stops in front of them, placing his cane on the ground with a clink and folding his hands over it. He’s smiling, tired but fond. His eyes rest on Webby for a moment longer than everyone else before moving on.

“All ready, kids?” Dad asks, his beak quirking up in a familiar cocky smirk, and something fond settles in Webby’s gut.

“Ready,” she replies firmly with the rest of them, smiling, and enters the plane, ignoring her growing nervousness. She’s with her family now. She’s safe.

When they’re all safe and settled in the belly of the Sunchaser once again, after Launchpad’s little snafu with the emergency hatch release, Webby seeks Dad out.

He’s sitting in the seat closest to the cockpit, talking with Aunt Daisy. Webby’s full to bursting with nervous energy, but, as she knows, it’s all for naught. His face lights up when he sees Webby coming. Aunt Daisy, as savvy and clever as she is, gives Webby a fond, knowing smile and slips away with a pat on Dad’s knee and a ruffle of Webby’s hair.

Hesitantly, Webby jumps into Aunt Daisy’s chair and maneuvers herself to face Dad. She busies herself for a few moments by fidgeting with her friendship bracelet.

Dad rearranges himself to face Webby, too. “What can I do for you, lass?” he asks, but she can tell from his tone he already knows where this conversation is going.

“So. Um.” Webby tugs at the hem of her skirt, bunching it up in her fists and hurriedly smoothing it out again. “Dad.”

“Dad,” he repeats, his voice full of wonder and amazement. A small smile tugs at his grin, threatening to burst and split his face.

“Can we talk?” Webby asks nervously. Her voice breaks a little on the word talk, and Dad noticeably winces.

“Of course,” he replies, awkward and stilted. “Go ahead.”

“Well…” Webby stares down at her skirt, then back up at Dad with glassy eyes. “Do you love me?”

Dad jerks, shocked. It’s clear that of all her questions, he certainly wasn’t expecting that one.

“Like a daughter,” Webby clarifies. “Do you love me like a daughter?”

Dad’s face changes, softens. It’s unreadable, but not unkind.

“Of course,” he replies softly.

Webby flinches and glances to the side, at the wall of the plane. Anywhere but Dad’s face. She tries to hide her discomfort, but it’s clear he notices.

“Do you… not want me to?” he tries.

Webby shakes her head. “Of course I do,” she replies softly.

“Then why…” he trails off. He has a million clauses he could finish the sentence with, but they all hang heavy in the air between them, unsaid.

Webby can’t look at him. “I… I don’t want you to only love me because I’m your daughter,” she replies. Her voice breaks on the word daughter. “I want you to love me because I’m me.”

“Webbigail Vanderquack.” Dad stares at her incredulously. “I paid full price for your birthday party. And it was only a front! How can you think I don’t love you?!”

A shocked giggle bursts out of Webby. After a moment, Dad joins her in his own giggling fit.

“I know you love me,” Webby replies quietly after their giggles have died down. Dad’s smile sags, and his expression turns serious and forlorn. “But it’s not the same. I- I know I’ve always been Granny’s granddaughter. It’s a little different. I love you, but I hate that we’re family because a missing mystery said so, and not because we love each other.”

Dad’s expression softens. “Oh, lassie.” He opens his arms, and Webby crawls into his embrace without a second thought.

Dad smooths her hair and tucks his chin onto her head. “Did you know,” he says, his voice muffled by the embrace, “that technically, May and June are my daughters too?”

Webby’s eyes burn. “Hmm?”

“Aye,” Dad continues. “If you were made from my DNA, and May and June were made from yours, then they’re a part of me too. Maybe they’re more like my granddaughters, but the point stands.”

Webby buries her face further into Dad’s coat and doesn’t respond. She’s not sure how too.

“Point being, May and June are my family, and I will treat them as such. I’m sure they’re marvelous young girls, and lovely sisters for you, my dear.”

Dad shifts his embrace so he can see her face. He holds her gaze with a steady and serious look.

“But they’re not my daughters. You, Webby darlin’, are. Do you know why?”

Webby shakes her head.

Dad hugs her tighter. “Because you always have been,” he replies, his voice thick, and oh. “Maybe not with that exact label, but, as Lena would say, labels are weird. You’re my family. You’re one of my kids. I know you, and I love you, Webby darlin’.”

“I… I know I didn’t make the effort to get to know you when you were young,” Dad continues. “I will be the first to admit I regret that. I’ve made a lot of mistakes when it comes to family. But I’ve had the honor of watching you grow these past years, and of being your family. And I wouldn’t trade that for the world.”

Webby nods. She knows they’re both thinking of earlier that day, when Scrooge’s declaration was put to the test, and won, but only narrowly. He doesn’t make that statement lightly.

Dad shifts, and his embrace loosens. His expression turns troubled and almost… nervous? It scares Webby by osmosis, but a part of her that she hasn’t processed yet thinks it’s comforting that he’s just as scared as she is. It’s new territory for both of them, but they’ll conquer it together.

“Webby, lass,” Dad begins, hesitantly. “Do you… not want me to be your father?”

Webby hums thoughtfully. Out of all the questions that had arisen in the wake of the Papyrus’ reveal, she hadn’t directly considered this one. It had been at the back of her mind, waiting, lingering.

Despite the lack of deliberation time, Webby knows the answer. She’s always known it, from the moment Bradford had confirmed her ancestry.

“Yes,” she says confidently, so firmly that it startles Dad. “It’s like you said. You’re my family, and that didn’t change.”

Dad’s face softens, and his shoulders slump with relief, and his grin threatens to split his face. Webby grins back, a mirror of his own.

“But,” she continues. “I… I like calling you Uncle Scrooge, too. It feels right to call myself your daughter, but it also feels right to call myself your niece. Does… is that okay? Does that make sense?”

“Of course,” Dad replies, shifting his arms. “I think I know how you feel. You are my daughter, and my niece. You’re one of my kids, and that will never change.”

He smiles wryly. “I do like having this special connection to you, though, lass. I have many heirs, but you’re the heir of Clan McDuck. That’s not something to take lightly. I’m proud of you.”

“I’ve never had a father,” she says after a minute. “Granny told me about a father, and a mother, too, but I never really knew them. But I’ve always had you.”

“Aye, Blaise,” Dad replies. “Your so-called ‘mother’ was your grandmother’s niece, if I remember correctly. Arianna. She and Blaise were sweet, if a bit airheaded, from what your grandmother’s told me. They were in a car crash shortly before you were bo- before your grandmother brought you home.”

Webby hums. “I didn’t know they were real.”

“Aye, they were very real,” Dad confirms. “As I’m sure Louie or Goldie will tell you, the best lies are closest to the truth. I’m sure they would love you, dear.”

“I don’t know them,” Webby counters softly. She tilts her head back to look Dad in the eyes. “I never will. But I know you.”

He beams at her. “Exactly, lassie.”

Webby shifts back into his embrace, and they sit together for a minute, the plane’s rumblings shaking them both slightly.

“Does this mean Goldie is my mom now?” Webby asks suddenly, her beak quirking into a grin.

Dad startles and squawks. “Ack, no! I know Louie calls her Aunt Goldie, for all the blasted- but now. Er, I suppose, that’s up to you, lassie,” he finishes somewhat awkwardly.

Webby smiles contentedly and leans her cheek against the fabric of his coat. “That’s okay,” she replies. “It’s my family and I get to choose the members.”

Dad grins proudly, and they lapse back into silence for another few minutes. The adrenaline, both from the harrowing events of the day and the nerve-wracking yet highly anticipated conversation with dad, slips out of her veins, and the heaviness of sleep tugs at Webby’s eyes.

Dad eventually breaks the drowsy, comfortable silence. “I’m proud to call you my daughter.” he murmurs into her hair, and Webby beams. “I’m proud you’re my family, not because that blasted Papyrus says so, but because you chose me. That means more to me than all the money in my Money Bin.”

Webby snuggles deeper into his embrace, her eyelids drifting closed. “Likewise, Dad. I love you.”

He smooths her hair down. The last thing she hears before she falls asleep, blissful and safe, is: “I love you too, Webby darlin’.”

god i. finale came out today and anyone who’s talked to me can verify that i’ve been in constant Duck Mode all day. head full only ducks. i’ve been struggling with motivation lately (as always lmao) but it struck today in the form of my absolute favorite dynamic in the entire show.

if you were in my circles back in 2018, around when confidential casefiles aired, you might remember that i talked a lot about webby and scrooge. i remember requesting them in almost every writing prompt request i was offered. i don’t talk about them much nowaways, and i’m not sure why, because i still love them. regardless of how you feel about the twist in the finale, the pure, unconditional love that webby and scrooge show each other makes me so, so happy. I almost added a section with beakley, because she's an important part of webby's family as well and they need to have a conversation, but webby and scrooge needed their moment. i'll write it later.

this is a bit of trying to make sense of how the theme of found and chosen family fits in with webby’s new biological relation to scrooge and a bit closure. scrooge isn’t the best at having these important conversations, but webby’s pretty good at sticking up for herself when need be.

arianna and blaise are actually based on my OC versions of webby’s parents i made a long, long time ago! arianna was a shush-turned-fowl agent, and blaise was a fowl technician. my plan for them was that they were working for fowl (which was, at the time, based on darkwing duck’s fowl) and eventually, they both cut ties and became freelance villains in st. canard and duckburg. the duck family would fight them, they’d recognize webby and beakley, and the truth would come out. the arianna and blaise mentioned here aren’t my old versions of them, but i wanted to pay tribute to that little picture webby had on her board of her parents. i figured they had to be someone, especially since the woman looked a lot like beakley. my headcanon is that they really were a librarian and an artist, and that beakley raised webby in their images as a tribute to the family she’d lost. also, it didn’t come up in the fic, but blaise is nonbinary and uses they/them pronouns!

when watching and rewatching the finale and watching gifs of it, something that struck me was how awestruck and euphoric scrooge acted when he found out. i think most of us focused on webby’s reaction, and beakley’s, but man, scrooge gets so quietly emotional and it means everything to me. this is basically a love letter to that quiet joy, scrooge and webby’s relationship, webby’s beautiful relationship with family, the finale, and ducktales as a whole. i love this goddamn show, and i’m going to miss it so much. see you, space cowboy.

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #dt17 #webby vanderquack #scrooge mcduck #ducktales spoilers #dt spoilers #the last adventure #wavey writes #ducktales fanfiction

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preciouslittletoonette · 3 years

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So since it’s already considered pretty accepted that Cuthbert Coot is the father of Kildare Coot, I had gone onto my ponderings about who Kildare’s mother is.

One of the wikias said her name was Luna Loon but besides that, I found nothing on her. So I did the next best thing:

I made a mother for Kildare:

Meet Petronella Paperella, everyone!

Born in 1963 to a family of fishermen, Petronella is a spirited young woman hailing from the small sea side town of Cefalu in Sicily, Italy. Out of 5 siblings, she is the second youngest of her brood.

In 1982, while making her way to town, by chance she meets Cuthbert Coot, who was staying with his uncle Clarence Coot up in Palermo for the year and decided to check out Cefalu for the day while his aunt Rosabella shopped and visited friends. The two, quite literally, bumped into each other (both their bikes crashed into each other, it was a nastly bump and fall). Petronella, quickly panicked and fretted over the person she crashed into, apologising frantically in Italian before the other could get a word in.

Cuthbert, however, was quickly besotted with the speckled beauty before him.

And that moment was what could be explained as the start of a wonderful relationship.

Cuthbert and Petronella spent a good amount of their free time together, Cuthbert mainly coming to Cefalu on weekends to spend time with her. Rarely did Petronella ever go to Palermo unless her family had business there and dropped her off at the Coot-de Paperone residence, where Cuthbert stayed. When not being able to visit each other, they sent each other letters. The letters initially started out quite friendly before showing subtle hints of flirting from mostly Cuthbert’s side (ending usually with a blushing mess on Petronella’s end. Safe to say, the flirting was well received). The flirting eventually bled through to their actual face-to-face talks (and hoo boy it’s amazing how red one’s face can become under the right circumstances) and soon their friendship turned to romance.

Cuthbert stayed in Sicily for another year due to the new development in their relationship and quickly went to work on not only his relationship with Petronella, but also to work on further impressing her family and showing/proving that he is capable of taking care of her.

Eventually the time for Cuthbert to leave was drawing closer and time seemed to be moving much faster for the both of them as time drew quicker. Petronella was deeply in love with Cuthbert and vice versa and wasn’t willing to leave him for so long. She had even fancied the idea of running to America with him, buying a ranch and raising cattle, having their own family and watching her children play in the fields without much worries.

So imagine her surprise and delight, when Cuthbert asks her to go with him to Duckburg ala marriage proposal (with her family’s approval and acceptance of course).

After 6 months of friendship and 1 and 1/2 years of romance, Petronella Paperella became Petronella Coot and with tearful goodbyes to her family, left Sicily, Italy for Calisota, USA and from there her life would get much better as Cuthbert had promised to both her and her family.

To say meeting the in-laws was overwhelming was an understatement. The Coot-Duck family had her surrounded the moment she stepped foot on Coot Kin land soil. Gretchen Coot (nee Grebe) had her daughter-in-law in her arms in seconds, happily and enthusiastically welcoming her to the family while Casey merely smiled and shook her hand, offering to take her bags inside for her. Elvira had even baked a special pie for the occasion (which Humperdink kept trying and failing to coax his wife into giving him a slice much to everyone’s amusement). Fanny, Cuthbert’s sister, welcomed her warmly as well and the two came quickly to accept each other sisters. The Coots were quite a lively bunch.

But Her beloved husband’s cousins were an even livelier group. Meeting Quackmore, Daphne and Eider would forever be one of Petronella’s favourite memories. The absolute chaos that followed the trio wherever they went was hilarious to witness and getting involved in their misadventures was even moreso. The misadventures she had ended up in led to her striking a lovely friendship with Daphne and Lulubelle, Eider’s wife and Hortense, Quackmore’s wife.

And when she was not out and about with the cousins and siblings, she was helping Cuthbert out with the ranch. It was thrilling compared to fishing to her. Getting to ride a horse and guiding cattle to and from the large open green fields was an absolute pleasure to her compared to fishing.

However, one little family disagreed with her.

6-year old, Donald Duck vehemently disagreed with her notion. His adoration with the sea and sailing was the most adorable sight she had ever witnessed. Really to her, all of the kids were adorable. She’d often babysit them all when things were too hectic at the farm for Elvira to take care of them.

All-in-all, Petronella’s relationship with the Coots and Ducks were as great as she had hoped it would be.

Then there were the McDucks.

Hortense’s family was... strange to say the least. Learning they too had immigrated to America from Europe made her feel a little more at ease with them when she’d first met them. But she noted the relationship between the siblings wasn’t as.... like the Ducks.

And while interacting with one of the members of the McDuck family, Douglas McDuck, the Ducks and the Coots (minus Cuthbert) see that, despite being a sweet and demure lady, there was a lot vitriolic rage hidden under that sweetness (which honestly just strengthened the friendship she had with Hortense).

Long story short, for his own safety, Douglas and Petronella were no longer allowed in the same room together unless

But life was good for Petronella.

Then it became great, because by 1988, she was greeted by what she considered her and Cuthbert’s greatest treasure.

Her eyes, beak and- from what she could tell just by his size- her small body. Cuthbert’s hair and feather colours.

Little Kildare Coot, or Sgrizzo as she lovingly called him.

Kildare was simply the light of Petronella’s life. Her first child, her baby boy who’d she sing sweet soft lullabies to like her own mother once did. While the family and his birth certificate say his name is Kildare, Petronella (and Cuthbert at times) call him Sgrizzo. She also spoke mostly Italian to him as a baby and would mix in English as he grew older.

By 1991, Petronella felt like she was truly at the height of her life, despite all the exhaustion and aches she felt from taking care of Kildare and helping Cuthbert and the rest of the family. She’d gone from Petronella Paperella, to Petronella Coot to now known as “dear Aunt Nellie Coot” as her nephews and nieces called her. Her marriage was great, she was to have another child soon, the family was at peace despite certain bumps in the road. Her life was great....

Until it wasn’t.

UGH, this took way too long to write out. I’ve been thinking about Petronella and her story for a while now, since she does have a bit of a role, albeit a minor one, in The Obscure Family members of Coot-Duck-McDuck so I decided to introduce her.

I have no other reason for giving her speckled feathers other than for the fact that it looked nice on her and I am very much attached to her right now.

Feel free to ask any questions about her or the story!!

#ducktales #duckverse #the obscure family members of coot-duck-mcduck #dt17 #dt17 oc #kildare coot #donald duck #donaldism

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knivxsanddespair · 3 years

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@lettheladylead not to 87!/comics!magicstone on main buuuuut

When one thinks of the end of their life, usually the final moments of it will bring them back to thoughts. Thoughts of family, thoughts of loved ones.

The two ducks lay motionless, sparing only enough energy to talk. "Ow..now that hurt." 'Understatement of the century' was what the other duck went quietly mumbling.

"Look. At least now we have all the time in the world..ghk." He knows he's gonna get called out for that one.

"Is this any time for your morbid sense of humour? We are both rendered useless and immobile as far as I know right now!"

Defeated sighs let out in motion. "What else can we do? You can't use your magic, and I am out of luck. I guess this is how two of Duckburg's most unwanted ducks go."

Fury was in her tone. "Poppycock! You want to talk about hated? You got no room for it darling! You don't know how lucky you are that you have family who loves yo-"

"Do..do I?"

"What nonsense are you spouting now?"

"I'm lucky, that's all i have with me and that's all I'll be known for. My cousins treat me like I was some tick of their backs, and the only people who were around me just wanted some luck..like I'm some walking four leaf clover. So yeah..I think I do have room to talk about it. It ain't easy being green with luck when others are green with envy."

"...Gladstone."

"I'm sorry. I do not want to spend my final moments with someone who understands me like this. Rather..let's just..take the steering wheel off and let go. Let go and never come back."

The only good thing about their situation right now was that they are close to each other. Magica took a deep breath, and force herself to turn to him. "You're stupid..but at least you know how to comfort people." As if giving a reward, her lips came in contact with his cheek.

"Thanks..I tried."

"I'm..sorry we had to be like this."

"Don't be, who knows? Maybe we can have so much more on the next life?"

"I would love that."

"I would too, I love you."

"The feeling is mutual, Gander."

They can't open their eyes anymore. And that was their final goodbyes to each other in this world, bodies gone. But never seperated in soul.

#ducktales gladstone #magica de spell #magicstone

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amrio · 3 years

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The Jacket War

Not that he was one to blame his daughter on anything, but Drake absolutely blamed her for starting the war for Launchpad's jacket. Sure she was just pushing his buttons at the start, but by the time that they were quite literally chasing each other for a coat, it had turned into a downright competition. One that neither of them had any intention of losing.

Launchpad was never one to forget things, as he rarely had anything with him to misplace, but his jacket? The pilot never left anywhere without it. You never know when you might take a nosedive into the side of an icy mountain after all. The only time Drake ever saw him without his beloved bomber jacket was when he stayed with him and Gosalyn after a night of patrolling and he took it off to sleep. Even then, it was never far away—either thrown over the back of the couch he was sleeping on, or on one of the bedposts if he managed to make it to the bed they had set up for him without falling to the ground snoring in that ever so loud, but quite endearing, way he does when he's truly exhausted.

So when Drake got up one morning and found the leather coat on the back of the couch, with no sign of Launchpad anywhere, he was certainly surprised. The pilot must've gotten up early that morning and left in a rush if he forgot it. Not to mention that he managed to leave without either Gosalyn or himself noticing. The two of them were such light sleepers that they were normally able to send Launchpad off with a tired goodbye before stumbling back to bed. Not saying goodbye was almost as depressing as having to say goodbye at all was.

McMoneyBags probably called him, Drake figured to himself as he stared down at the article of clothing. It looked so out of place without it's owner. Upon further inspection, he found a new tear and a few scorch marks on the back. They weren't from their patrol last night, he knew that much for certain. They had been dealing with another liquid type villain that had escaped from a lab and sought to wreck havoc on the scientists that created it. McDuck better not let this happen often, he groused picking up the jacket and feeling the worn leather between his fingers. He's my partner. If anything ever happened to him...!

It took the man all of two seconds to realize what he had just admitted, despite being in his mind. Drake quickly whipped his head around and scanned the area, lest he find that his thoughts had been projected for the rest of the world to hear. Or worse still, Gosalyn. She had been poking fun at him ever since she found them curled up together on the couch after a particularly rough night.

They had been tired, beaten, battered, and emotionally exhausted after Darkwing had accidentally gotten captured. None of them had the strength to even look at the stairs leading up to their bedrooms and instead flopped over onto the couch dead on their feet. Launchpad had fallen asleep first, three hour drives between St. Canard and Duckburg taking up a more obvious toll with the additional stress of the night. Much to no one's surprise, Launchpad was a sleep hugger. And okay, maybe Drake enjoyed the sleepy affection too. It was something he was very unaccustomed, but not entirely opposed to. Launchpad was warm, he was tired, and with Gosalyn safe and nearby he may or may not have allowed himself to cuddle into the much bigger duck's chest and fall asleep that way.

The thought of that comfortable evening brought more warmth to his cheeks and a nervous twitch to his fingers as he looked around. Thankfully the pale morning light illuminating the tower was his traitorous thinking's only audience.

Launchpad could handle himself. He had proven it on any number of occasions, matching Darkwing's battle prowess with ease. Now...what that had to do with the sudden worried possessiveness that his brain had just given words to and his fondness of that sleepy evening...well...Drake wasn't going to sit there and ponder that while it was still so early. That was a problem for several cups of coffee and some breakfast. Yet he found himself holding on to the jacket for a few moments more, looking it over and marveling at just how big it was (and how big it would be on him), but it ended up being for a few moments too many.

"Hey nerd! Whatcha doin'?"

Drake yelped and quickly dropped the coat back over the couch as a warm red re-exploded on his face. "G-Gosalyn! Uh! I'm not doing anything! W-what are you doing?" He couldn't figure out what to do with his hands as his ten year old eyed him suspiciously and ended up shoving them into the pockets of his purple bathrobe before they gave away his nervousness.

Gosalyn stared him down, her eyes taking on that glint that he often saw when she was trying to work out how to save her grandpa. Her analyzing look. Much to his horror, he watched her gaze drift to the couch and land on Launchpad's coat. Oh, he really didn't like the look on her face now. She was grinning in the same way that said she was going to try a new trick shot with her crossbow that would absolutely send his coffee mug spilling to the ground.

"So, have you tried it on yet?" she smirked, knowing exactly why her father had gotten flustered.

"No! And I have no idea why you would suggest I do such a thing," he said trying to grapple for at least a little bit of his dignity. "Why are you up anyways?" It was a Saturday and neither of them were much for mornings.

"I heard you up." She crossed her arms over her green pjs with a huff. "Why are you awake?"

"Oh you know...uh. Just trying to get a jump start on those files from yesterday." He gave a nervous laugh, knowing full well that WANDA had already sorted and sifted through them the moment they were uploaded.

Gosalyn wasn't impressed. "If you say so."

After a staring contest that Drake quickly lost to the knowing eyes of his daughter, he ended up trudging to the kitchen for some coffee. In the back of his mind he was aware of how empty the spacs was without a certain pilot serving up coffee with a cheery grin. Drake would never understand how Launchpad was such a morning person. He got less sleep than the average college student and yet he still managed to shine brighter than the sun at six in the morning when he woke up either to a demanding phone call from Scrooge or to the sound of Drake struggling with another nightmare.

As he was pondering this he all but choked on his coffee when Gosalyn wandered—and almost tripped—into the kitchen.

"What? You weren't using it," she said as she struggled to climb into her seat at the table.

She was wearing Launchpad's jacket.

If Drake had thought the coat would be big on him, it was downright gigantic on Gosalyn. It all but swallowed the girl whole as she looked up and challenged him to do something about it. She wasn't a dress kind of girl, but that's the only thing he could even remotely compare it to. It buried her at the table and hung over the edge of the seat, hiding her arms and feet entirely. Well, maybe a king sized blanket would be a better comparison.

"Isn't that a little uh, big for you Gos?" he finally asked as he tried to decide if the sight was more adorable or comical.

"Nope," she said, somehow with a straight face, as she got situated. All of her moving and struggling with the coat had thrown her bed tousled hair into her face and she ended up pulling her arms out of the sleeves so she could shove it away and reach for the mug of tea he had made for her. "It's comfortable. And really warm." She sipped at her drink before grinning around the edge of the mug. "You should try it on. LP certainly wouldn't mind."

"I—! You—!" he sputtered trying his hardest to keep the blush out of his feathers. "That's none of your concern, Waddlemeyer."

Though she gave a genuine smile at the name, glad to hold onto her grandpa's name for a little while longer, she couldn't help but taunt him in her reply. "No? Or are you just too afraid to take it from me and find out?"

Should he stoop to the level of his competitive ten-year old? Probably not. That wouldn't sound very good on paper now would it? "I'm not fighting a child for a coat."

"Chicken."

"I am not."

"Are too."

"Darkwing Duck is no chicken."

"Prove it then!"

Well if that's how it was going to go, screw the paper and how it would sound. Drake set his coffee down and narrowed his eyes at the girl only to find her mirroring his actions.

Some part of him knew how ridiculous they were being, but that was heavily outweighed by the fact that A) he wasn't going to back down from any challenge no matter who it was from and B) Gosalyn was smiling more this morning than all the other mornings combined. He had seen her sleep-fits often enough that they were probably tied when it came to who had nightmares the most. Mornings were fragile things unless Launchpad was there to comfort them or snap them out of it. Now it seemed that his jacket was doing a good enough job at keeping them light-hearted in his place.

So yeah. He was totally going to steal that coat from Gosalyn.

If the fact that she pulled a hair-tie off of her wrist and pulled her wavy red hair back in a messy ponytail said anything, it was that she was more than happy to make the challenge as difficult as possible.

When Launchpad came back to St. Canard later that day after returning the Duck family to the mansion from an adventure involving magical dirt...? he hadn't caught the name of it; all he knew was that it was blue and turned Dewey into a mini dragon (it took them an eternity to convince him to change back). Regardless, he certainly wasn't expecting to find Drake and Gosalyn chasing each other around the base in some sort of game before lunch.

"Hey guys! Guess who's back!" he hollered stepping through the main door.

"Hi LP!" Gosalyn greeted as she sprinted in front of him. She had something in her grasp, but she was moving too fast for Launchpad to figure out what it was.

Hardly a second later, Drake ran past him as well and gave a distracted hello before he jumped up and off the wall at his daughter. The two of them ended up in a roll as they fought for whatever item the girl had until Drake was the victor. Not for long though, as his rather loud victory "HAH!" was cut short when Gosalyn snagged the item out of his outstretched grasp and made a mad dash in the opposite direction.

Launchpad couldn't help but laugh at the frustrated growl from Drake. He had no idea what they were doing, but he was happy to see them getting along. Drake had formally adopted Gosalyn a couple of months ago, but they were still adjusting to the whole family dynamic thing. Gosalyn was stubbornly independent and Drake got caught up in his nightly alter-ego all too easily. There were good days and bad days, but today just happened to be an exceptionally good day.

Eventually Drake got up from his dramatic pouting on the ground and gave chase to his daughter once again.

Seeing the determined look on Drake's face and the cocky grin on Gosalyn's made the pilot realize, not for the first time, just how much he adored them. They were chaotic and a little bit of a mess—he noted Drake's bathrobe abandoned on the couch—but they were a family. He knew Gosalyn couldn't say it yet and that Drake would hesitate to admit it, but it was true nonetheless. They were his adventure family. So he let out a fond sigh and rested his arms against the railing to watch their antics for a time.

As the green blur of Gosalyn sped down the stairs, Launchpad realized that she was struggling with the something in her arms until it unfolded into something he recognized. She had his coat! So that's where he had left it! He knew it had to be here with them, or at the fast-food place he frequented between cities. It was a good thing it was here and not the fast-food joint, because he forgot to stop there in his excitement to get back to them.

Gosalyn fought with the gargantuan jacket until she managed to get her arms into the sleeves and continued running with the rest of the coat trailing after her. She tried to scrunch up the sleeves so she could use her hands, but there was simply too much jacket so she gave up and let the sleeves flap as she ran. It was adorable to say the least. What was even better was how much she resembled her father. At some point, Launchpad couldn't remember when exactly, Drake had stolen one or two of his shirts for pjs. So now both Drake and Gosalyn were running and jumping around in Launchpad's clothes and both of them were absolutely dwarfed by the bigger sizing

Launchpad couldn't have squashed his grin if he tried. But he didn't try. He smiled openly at the sight presented and laughed when the much-too-long sleeve of his coat got caught on a desk and brought Gosalyn to a screeching halt. Drake jumped at the opportunity and immediately scooped up his daughter so she couldn't escape again, holding her in front of him to avoid her kicking feet.

"Ha-HA! Can't get away this time can you!"

"That doesn't count! I got stuck!" she cried trying to fight out of his hold.

Before Drake could retaliate with some sassy remark or another, Launchpad spoke up with a laugh as he made his way down the stairs and to them in the living room. "So...you two haven't seen my coat anywhere have you?"

Their responses were immediate.

"Nope haven't seen it."

"What coat?"

When Launchpad got closer it finally sunk in that they were still in pjs. "Wait...you two aren't dressed yet...don't tell me—" his voice rose in concern and too much volume "—that you haven't had anything for breakfast?!" Because he could see the kitchen, and there were no plates or bowls or even orange peels left out to indicate otherwise.

"Um. About that," Drake started nervously. He was no stranger to "Uncle Launchpad's" mothering and neither was Gosalyn.

"We got...distracted?" Gosalyn supplied after a beat.

Launchpad was having none of that. Drake and Gosalyn were quickled ushered into the kitchen and to the table, their game of keep-away momentarily forgotten, while Launchpad set about righting the wrongness of no breakfast. It wasn't long before Gosalyn had a stack of waffles drowned in syrup in front of her and Drake had a bowl of cereal and half an orange to dig into. As Launchpad brought over refills to their coffee and tea, he marveled at how small his family was.

His coat was filling more chair than Gosalyn was and she had to reach out from behind the zipper to reach her sugary meal even sitting on her knees. He had no doubt that she could shut the zipper and hide in the thing and no one would know the difference. Meanwhile on the other side of the table, one of his green t-shirts was hanging loosely off of Drake's wirey frame, looking more like a night-gown than a shirt. Warmth blossomed in the pilot's chest as he really took that information in. His little adventure family really was little. They could handle themselves, but he would always be there to have their backs and protect them. How could he not? They didn't even fill his shirt!

"You good LP?" Drake asked, snapping him out of his thought. "You stopped talking."

Was he talking? Oh right! He had been telling them about the adventures of Dewey as a fire-breathing dragon while he fixed their food. "Buh...Uh ye-yeah I'm good. Sorry about that."

"Where did you go?" Gosalyn asked around her mug.

"Where did I go? Did I leave the kitchen too?!" He hadn't thought he had left the room, but he wasn't paying attention. What if he did and he didn't know it?!

"What? No!" She snorted at his stricken expression. Her mug was set down so she wouldn't spill it as she clarified. "I meant what were you thinking about."

"Oh! Ok yeah that makes more sense." He wasn't one to lie, so he didn't and told them. "I was thinking about how small you two are."

Drake gave an indignant "hey!" in response while Gosalyn just giggled at how offended he got.

"I think it's the other way around LP," she said lightly. "You're big and so are your clothes. Look at this!" She gestured to the jacket surrounding her. "It's like, way bigger than me!"

"I guess so... hey! Speaking of my coat, can I have it back?"

"Nope!"

#familyfluff #dwd #drakepad #gosalyn #launchpad's clothes are too big for his family #launchpad #fluff

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kawaii-mango · 3 years

Text

Babysitter Blues

Surprise @kitkatzrgr8! I’m your Secret Santa! 😁

I hope you enjoy this bit of Donald bonding with his boys for @ducktalessecretsanta2020

Fanfiction.net

Note: Mrs. Birdwell is the babysitter shown in "Woo-oo!'

Chapter 1

The delicious scent of toasted bread wafted through Donald Duck's room. Even in a deep sleep, he couldn't help but smile. The pleasant aroma brought back memories of his dad cooking breakfast, or even better, his old roommate José Carioca making tasty pão na chapa.

But a sudden "CLANG" startled Donald and he fell out of his hammock bed.

As he sat up, he groaned and grumbled about his sore back. Even over his complaints, he heard three whispering voices coming from the living area. He frowned.

Something was up.

Donald stood to his feet and removed his sleep mask, but nearly fell over once he saw how bright it was outside.

"Oh no."

He scrambled over to his nightstand to check his phone, but when he pressed the button to check the time, the "dead battery" logo flashed dimly onscreen. His heart sank.

He overslept!

"Oh no! Oh no! Oh no!" He dashed out of his room. His poor boys! They must've been starving!

Once he got to the kitchen area, the three ducklings stopped what they were doing and looked at him. Huey was sitting at the table spreading peanut butter on toast, next to him was Louie who was eating cereal, and Dewey was sitting on the floor eating a toaster pastry and playing video games.

"Good morning, Unca' Donald!" They greeted.

Before Donald could speak, Huey jumped up and ran over to him. "Look, Unca' Donald! I made breakfast for you!" He proudly held up a plate with two pieces of peanut butter toast with banana. "Don't worry, I used a plastic knife."

"Thanks, Huey." Donald said. "Boys, I-"

"C'mon sit down and eat!" Dewey hopped up and grabbed his arm to lead him to the table. Huey set down the plate and pulled out a chair and Dewey sat him down. "You've got a busy day ahead of you!"

Donald sat down. "I-"

"Don't forget the milk." Louie poured him a glass and slid it across the table, stopping just short of his plate."

Any initial guilt Donald was feeling about oversleeping was quickly being replaced by suspicion again as he looked at their smiling faces then down to his plate and back at them again.

"Okay, what's going on here?" He asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

"Nothing." Dewey answered, a little too quickly for Donald's liking.

Huey sighed. "Okay, Unca' Donald, you caught us." His brothers looked at him, but Huey simply shook his head causing them to back down.

"We don't want a babysitter anymore!" They said.

"Especially not one as boring as Old Mrs. Birdwell." Louie added.

"And we won't be home alone. We'll have each other!" Huey asserted.

"Yeah!" Dewey piped up. "Between the three of us, we're like 24-years-old!" The boys looked at their uncle with wide, toothy smiles; however, his expression remained unchanged.

"Sorry, boys, but no dice."

"But Unca' Don-"

"No being home alone until you get to high school, and not a moment before."

"Yes, Unca' Donald."

**********

Thankfully, the rest of breakfast proceeded without incident, and Donald returned to his room to get ready for the day. Before he began, he plugged up his phone to get some charge and sat in his hammock. He figured he could spare a few minutes to check and see what he might've missed since last night

Moments later, the phone's loading screen appeared and shortly afterwards, his lock screen. Not soon afterwards, notifications began to appear: News from Duckburg, a reminder about his phone's limited storage space, a special Cola Crash event, and finally, a voicemail from Mrs. Birdwell.

The last one puzzled Donald. Mrs. Birdwell seldom called unless it was a holiday or she was just letting him know that she would be running late (which was even more rare).

He shrugged it off. Maybe she was just checking in. This had been a busy week after all.

**********

Meanwhile, the boys sat in the living room, glaring at each other, yet avoiding the other's stare at the same time. Neither has said a word to the other since breakfast, but for Dewey, the silence was starting to become maddening.

"So what now?" He finally spoke up.

"I don't know, do you have any other bright ideas, Llewelyn?" Huey cut his eyes at his green-clad brother who responded with an equally dirty look

"You're the smart one, figure it out yourself, Hubert." Louie crossed his arms and turned away from him. Huey responded by also turning away from him in a huff.

Dewey scowled at his brothers. "Well somebody needs to come up with something!" He shouted. "I'm not about to have Old Mrs. Birdwell cramp my middle-school style!"

Louie scoffed. "Face it, Dewey, we don't have a snowball's chance of changing Unca' Donald's mind right now." He pouted and slumped down further on the couch.

"'Right now'." Huey echoed. "Hmm…" He got up and walked away. Dewey and Louie exchanged curious glances and followed him.

"Wha'cha got?" Louie asked.

"Well, it's going to take a lot more than just one day of showing Unca' Donald that we're responsible." Huey pondered. "If we're gonna get him to change his mind, we're going to need to keep this up for much longer."

"No problem!" Dewey said as Louie let out a disgusted grunt. "How much longer are you thinking? A couple of weeks? Maybe a month?"

"A year, at least."

This time Louie and Dewey let out disgusted grunts. Before Huey could speak again, Donald appeared in the hallway.

"Okay, then. Let me know what the doc-" He froze when he saw his nephews."Er, keep me posted. Bye." He ended the call and smiled at them.

"Are you ready to go, boys?" He added a nervous laugh. In response, they gave him looks that ranged between suspicious to concerned

"Unca' Donald, what's going on?" Huey asked.

Donald's grin dropped slightly. Instinctively, he wanted to tell them that nothing was wrong so that they wouldn't be worried, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Honesty was the best policy after all, especially given the situation.

"Boys," he started, "Mrs. Birdwell has just been taken to the hospital."

Chapter 2

A heavy, almost suffocating, cloud of gloom and guilt had fallen over the unusually quiet Duck household.

The triplets had retreated to their room and Donald was left alone in the living area. To get his mind off of things, he decided to straighten up the room a bit; however, his efforts quickly proved to be fruitless.

He couldn't help but feel guilty for ruining his nephews' day. Couldn't he have just waited three seconds to finish his call before stepping out into the hallway? In fact, he could've waited to call and check on Mrs. Birdwell. If she had just gone to the hospital at that time, it would probably be a couple of hours before she knew what was going on.

Donald sat on the couch and let out a ragged sigh as he placed his head in his hands. Although he was hoping for the best now, it was a sobering reminder that Mrs. Birdwell was up in age and won't always be around.

He shook his head, took a deep breath, and exhaled.

He wasn't about to let his mind fall in a whirlwind of worries, especially when there were more important things to think about.

Like cheering up his boys.

And he knew just the thing to do it.

**********

"Hiya, boys!"

The triplets muttered some form of greeting back to their uncle as he entered their room. Donald's smile dropped at seeing his normally rambunctious kids look so down. Huey was laying on the floor halfheartedly flipping through his Junior Woodchuck Guidebook, Dewey was sitting upside down in a chair, and that lump on the bed meant that Louie was hiding under the covers.

Donald made his way through the room and sat on the bed. "So," he began, "are you all just gonna sit around here all day?"

"Mm-hmm." Huey said as he turned a page.

"Yup." Dewey responded.

"Pretty much." Louie answered from underneath the bed covers.

"Oh, I see." Donald looked down at his folded hands. "Well, I suppose that-"

Suddenly his phone rang. Huey and Dewey looked up at their uncle with concerned anticipation as he hurried to answer the phone.

"Hello?" Donald paused for the response. "Okay. … I see." By this time, Louie peeked his head from under the blanket.

"Well, are you up for talking to the boys?" Donald smirked at them as he saw their faces light up. "They were- … But I- … I didn't m- … Yes, ma'am. … Okay. … Okay, hold on a second." No sooner than Donald could remove the phone from his ear, to put it on speaker, the boys already crowded around him.

"Hi, Mrs. Birdwell!" They greeted.

"Hello, boys." Although she sounded tired, they were just glad to hear from her.

"How are you feeling?" Dewey asked.

"Much better." She replied. "But I probably won't be back for another week."

"That's okay, Mrs. Birdwell" Huey responded. "We'll miss you, but we want you to get better."

"Oh, you boys are so sweet."

"Okay, boys, I think we should let Mrs. Birdwell rest." Donald said. "We'll talk with you later."

"Bye!"

"Goodbye."

Once he hung up, Donald smiled at his nephews. "Well, you boys seem to be in better spirits." He mused.

"Yeah." Louie said, looking away.

"We're sorry about earlier, Unca' Donald." Huey said.

"Yeah, we didn't mean all of that stuff we said." Dewey added. "Well, we didn't mean to be mean about Mrs. Birdwell, but-"

"I understand, boys." Donald ruffled Dewey's hair. "You're growing up. It's only natural to want to be more independent."

"Yeah." They agreed.

"And maybe I need to step back and give you room to grow."

"Yeah!"

"And maybe we don't need to go to Funso's this afternoon."

"Yeah-wait!" The boys protested and pleaded with their uncle to reconsider that last decision.

"Okay, never mind that last one." Donald laughed. "Are you ready to go?"

"YEAH!"

Before he could get up to move, his nephews tackled him with hugs. "Thank you, Unca' Donald!' They said. Seconds later, they ran out of the room chanting the familiar slogan, "FUNSO'S FUNZONE! WHERE FUN IS IN THE ZONE!"

Donald laughed. Even though deep down he was still worried about the future, between Mrs. Birdwell and even his boys growing up, he decided to put that aside for now and just enjoy the moment.

And later on, some decent pizza at a fair price.

#Ducktales #DT17 #Donald Duck #Huey Duck #Louie Duck #Dewey Duck #Ducktales Secret Santa #My Mango Leaves

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queenie-main · 4 years

Text

Honestly I’m looking forward to “Let’s Get Dangerous”, but I’m mostly afraid that it means Launchpad will permanently leave his family in Duckburg at the end, possibly even disappearing from the plot until the season finale. The pacing in season 3 so far has been super rushed and tends to leave a lot of important character moments to happen offscreen, so I’m sure that’s exactly what’s going to happen.

Personally, here’s what I’d like to see happen in “Let’s Get Dangerous”.

Launchpad teams up with Drake for the third time since they met, and they meet Gosalyn together. Their team and family dynamic starts to take shape, and Launchpad starts getting attached to them. But FOWL is out in the open now, and due to the immediate threat they pose to Scrooge and his family, Launchpad chooses to stay in Duckburg to help. The episode ends with Gosalyn in Drake’s care, and they tell Launchpad he’s always welcome in St. Canard, leaving him with the choice to come back when the time is right.

As the season goes on we learn that Launchpad keeps in touch with the Mallards and finds himself slowly getting more involved with their lives. He misses them and soon he feels like they’re as much a family to him as Scrooge’s family is. Then his loyalties become conflicted. He starts to wonder where he really belongs. Launchpad is deeply loyal to Scrooge, and shouldn’t be willing to give up his life in Duckburg immediately.

And of course we can’t forget about Dewey’s importance to Launchpad. The two of them are best friends who would do anything for each other. Launchpad loves this kid so much that he’s terrified of letting him down. Saying goodbye would break them, and should be a big moment.

But, like I said before, this season tends to rush things that shouldn’t be rushed, and let important things happen offscreen. Maybe none of this will happen. Maybe Launchpad will get shipped off to St. Canard without much fuss at all, and his old family will hardly miss him. Which, as I said before, seems all too likely to me.

#ducktales #darkwing duck #launchpad mcquack #drake mallard #gosalyn mallard #dewey duck #scrooge mcduck #my post #long post #queenie talks

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mighty-ant · 4 years

Note

Let me say this before the episode comes out. I was emotionally preparing myself for when Launchpad had to leave and be with Drake and Gosalyn and have some tearful goodbyes with the family, but that was before I found out that Launchpad didn't actually live in the garage that was connected to the mansion and was by himself.

Yeah, the reveal that the garage where Launchpad lives is a completely separate entity still really throws through me for a loop haha

But even the possible inevitability of LP leaving Duckburg still has a lot of tearful angst potential! He’d be leaving the main cast in a sense, with his practical role as the pilot has largely overshadowed by Della and his position as driver replaceable by someone like Duckworth (a la 1987). But feels like a natural progression of his character to join his new family with Drake and Gosalyn, just like DW91 did.

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dellyduck · 4 years

Text

Age Swap AU

For the last ten years, since when they were still precious, fragile little eggs, until their tenth birthday last month, Huey has dedicated his life raising, protecting and keeping out of trouble a mischievous pair of twins. His nephew and niece, Donald and Della Duck.

Huey would like to think that he knew those two as the back of his hand. After being the only responsible for them their role lives, he had to know how their minds worked.

Maybe that’s why the duck in red was having such a hard time to accept he really hadn’t connected the coincidence between the babysitter getting lost, his niece’s absence, and his nephew trying to rush him out of the house. But just between you and I, dear reader, the only reason why Huey noticed that there was something wrong, was because of the explosion coming from his backyard.

Huey instantly stopped in his way to the car, hands going to his hips and his frowned gaze lowered to a now very nervous Donald.

“Where’s Della?”

“E-er… Um… Who’s dela?” Donald forced a smile, knowing too well that their plan was phooeyd already.

Arching an eyebrow, Huey left his nephew on the house’s entrance and went to the backyard. Their house was very simple and so was the backyard, but through the years Della and Donald had managed to build a sort of small shack there, a place where they could play and make messes as much as their little hearts wished.

Right now, there was a dark smoke leaving through the wooden planks, and a lot more left when Huey opened the shack’s improvised door. Even before he could see the big piece of metal that looked like a mini-car, he heard Della coughing.

“NAILE- Cough, cough –Nailed it.” Though her evident discomfort, Della’s face was still shining with pride behind the smoke. “Hey Donnie, it worked! Goodbye, Duckburg! Hello-” The girl lifter her dirty aviator goggles, her excitement dying when she saw that it wasn’t her brother. “… Uncle Huey.”

The next thing the twins knew, they were both being tossed onto the car’s back seat.

“You were supposed to get him out by ten o’clock, Donald!”

“And you were supposed to wait for the signal, Della!”

Instead of keep fighting, though, the two just crossed their arms and huffed, exclaiming together:

“We never get to do anything!”

#sneak pick #delly writing #ducktales #ducktales au #della duck #donald duck #duck twins #huey duck #duck twins au #age swap au

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archester-creations · 4 years

Text

Nighttime Visitor

Dewey

There was an empty bowl of popcorn on the couch. The bowl sat between Dewey and Launchpad as they watched through their last movie. It was a friday night, one they set aside for a movie night. Those didn’t happen as often as Dewey would like. He liked watching movies till it was hard to keep his eyes open with his best friend. But Uncle Donald wouldn’t allow that on school nights. And Launchpad went back to his own house early most nights. So they had to keep it to fridays.

At the halfway point there was a bang that sounded too loud to be from the tv. Launchpad sat up with a jolt, arm out in front of Dewey. It was accompanied by a voice. Dewey didn’t recognize it, but it made Launchpad relax.

"So." They both turned toward the voice. "You've replaced me." It was a girl. She looked like a young teenager, maybe a little older than Lena. It was hard to tell with her purple mask and Robin Hood hat. The hat was green with a large purple feather and she had a matching green outfit with a thick purple belt. A superhero.

"Aw, I could never replace you, QW." Launchpad smiled sincerely at the girl and she matched it with a grin of her own.

"Uh..." Dewey looked between the two of them, frozen. It looked like they knew each other. Though Dewey couldn’t figure out how. He knew Launchpad liked superheroes. The Darkwing Duck picture he kept on the dashboard of the limo was evidence enough of that. Plus, being Launchpad’s certified Best Friend, he knew Darkwing was his favourite superhero. But to have one just… in Launchpad’s garage?

“Who’s the kid?” The girl asked, gesturing to Dewey with her head.

"Dewey," Launchpad put a hand on Dewey’s shoulder. "Dewey, this is Quiverwing Quack."

“Darkwing Duck’s sidekick?” Dewey blurted.

The girl- Quiverwing Quack- smirked. “Sure am. So you’re Dewey?” Dewey blinked at her and she laughed. “Launchpad’s talked about you.”

Slowly, Dewey looked at Launchpad. “You’ve talked about me to Quiverwing Quack?”

“Of course, little buddy!” Launchpad smiled brightly at him. “How could I not tell her about my best bud?” He turned back to Quiverwing. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“Liquidator’s causing some extra trouble so dad wanted me to come get you.” Quiverwing said and Dewey felt himself be surprised for the second time that night.

‘“Sorry, bud,” Launchpad looked down at him with a frown. “Seems we have to cut this movie short.”

“That’s alright, Launchpad,” Dewey said, distracted. It was one thing for Launchpad to know Darkwing and Quiverwing. But she came here specifically for his help . Before he could actually question anything, Launchpad steered him toward the mansion.

“G’night, Dewey,” Launchpad said and Dewey mumbled it back, heading to the room he shared with his brothers.

Louie

Dewey had told all his siblings about his encounter with Quiverwing Quack. So Louie wasn’t really all that surprised when she showed up in the mansion one day.

“Have you se-” the older duck started to ask, but cut herself off. “What are you watching?”

“Ottoman Empire.” Louie looked back at her from where he hung over the armrest. “Wanna watch it with me?”

She looked unsure, eyes glancing between the screen and behind her. Then Johnny and Randy showed an especially bad ottoman and she made a face. “Grossaroonie, what is that! Do people pay for that?”

“Yep,” Louie nodded, turning back to the screen. The couch dipped at his feet. Quiverwing had joined him.

They sat there together in relative silence, both laughing as the customer complained. It was a while before anyone else entered the room.

“QW?” Launchpad’s voice came from the doorway. Louie turned his head to see him, but the pilot wasn’t looking at him. He was looking at Quiverwing. “Shouldn’t you be on patrol?”

“Yeah…” Quiverwing looked awkwardly at the ground. “Splatter Phoenix kinda got away from me and hopped over to Duckburg.”

“What?” Launchpad asked. “Does DW know?”

“No! Don’t tell him!” Quiverwing clasped her hands pleadingly. Louie tilted his head at that, eyes narrowing. “He’d never let me patrol alone again, you know how he can be!”

For a minute Launchpad just looked at her. Then he nodded. “Alright. Want me to help?”

“Please,” Quiverwing said. “It’s actually why I came over.”

“C’mon,” Launchpad pointed a thumb over his shoulder, “let’s head.”

“Right!” Quiverwing jumped over the back of the couch. “See ya!” Louie stuck a hand up to wave his own goodbye. It seemed their resident pilot’s family wasn’t all he said..

Scrooge and Donald

A plane sounded overhead. Scrooge and Donald looked at each other before they looked up. It wasn’t the sunchaser that did a large loop above them. No, it was too small for that plane and Donald had seen Launchpad working on the limo earlier. The plane did a second, smaller circle above their heads. Then it nosedived- practically literally, the beak at its front dipping dangerously. There was a crash behind the mansion and they looked at each other again before they took off running.

When they got to the plane, its bill was deep into the dirt. From their angle, they could see a large crack splintering up the front window. There was a girl next to it. Her expression was pinched with worry, a hand in the hair under her hat.

“You okay, lass?” Scrooge walked up to the teen. “That was quite a crash. I think my one pilot would be impressed.”

The girl looked at him and amazement replaced the worry quickly. “You’re Scrooge McDuck!”

“I am,” Scrooge nodded. He was used to being recognized. It came with being the world’s richest duck. Really, at this point he was more surprised when someone didn’t recognize him. “And you are?”

“Quiverwing Quack!” Quiverwing stuck a hand out and Scrooge took it, “Keen gear, it’s really neat meeting you, Mr. McDee!”

Her words struck a delayed chord with him and he frowned. That… was what Launchpad called him. It was the first time he’d heard anyone else call him that. Especially a stranger. “Lass-”

“Mr. McDee!” Launchpad’s voice called out like he was summoned and suddenly he was there, panting a little. “I heard a crash! And it wasn’t me.”

“No, Launchpad,” Scrooge gestured to the girl in front of him. “It was this lass here.”

“QW?” Launchpad frowned. “Shouldn’t you be-” Then he seemed to notice the plane just behind them. “The Thunderquack!”

“Yeah,” Quiverwing drew the word out.

Launchpad brightened. “It’s such a good crash!” He looked back at her, hands going to her shoulders. “Are you okay? You did so well. No.” The last word was said firmly to himself and he stepped back. “You should be in school. Does DW know you’re here?”

Her shoulders hunched, Quiverwing looked away. “No…” she said quietly. “I just wanted to come over. I didn’t think I’d crash.”

Launchpad sighed. “Let’s check out the Thunderquack.”

They walked the short distance to the plane and Scrooge and Donald watched in amazement as she deflated just like the kids did when they were admonished. It wasn’t an affect they’d ever seen Launchpad have on anyone. Nor was it an effect they thought he could have.

“Do ya think…” Scrooge started, unsure what he wanted to ask. He knew Launchpad had a bairn. His chauffeur talked about her quite a bit on drives. But he only knew her as ‘Gos’, the girl who made the most winning goals on her school’s hockey team. Not as a superhero.

“Uh,” Donald drew out the word before shaking his head. “No.”

Webby and Beakley

` A noise drew Webby and her grandmother into the kitchen. There was a girl in there. Her head was in the fridge, but the purple feather bobbing past the door let Webby know just who it was. Quiverwing Quack: her hero. And she was stealing food from her fridge. It was awesome. Even if a tad confusing.

“Quiverwing!” Webby’s granny said, voice scolding, and the girl startled before turning her head, a cold slice of pizza hanging from her beak. “Why are you raiding our fridge?”

Quiverwing looked sheepish, removing the piece and swallowing down her bite. “There’s nothing good at home.”

“So you thought you'd sneak in here and take our food without asking?” Granny asked, arms crossed.

“... Yes?” Quiverwing smiled awkwardly.

Granny sighed, hand moving to pinch her beak. “And how would your fathers feel about this?”

Quiverwing’s shoulders drifted to her ears. “They wouldn't be happy.” There was a pause. “Can I still have this slice?”

“Yes, you may,” Granny sighed again and Quiverwing smiled.

“Thanks, Aunt B!” The awkward smile was replaced by a genuine one as she closed the fridge.

Finally, Webby couldn’t contain herself any longer. “ You’re Quiverwing Quack! ”

“I am.” Quiverwing’s smile grew as she looked down at Webby, who was jumping excitedly. “Wait till I tell Dad I have my own fan.”

At this point Webby’s arms were flapping. “Ohmygodohmygodohmygod! My hero is in my kitchen stealing from my fridge and did you call my granny aunt ?!”

Quiverwing blinked at Webby, but the smile didn't fade. “Yeah, she's a good friend of my pops’. You said you're her grandkid? Guess that makes us family, kid.”

A long, muted scream came from Webby’s clenched lips as she practically vibrated before ‘Quiverwing Quack’s my cousin!’ came out in a long rush. This time Quiverwing laughed. But it didn’t seem like she was laughing at her. It felt more surprised.

“I think you’re my first fan,” Quiverwing said and Webby gasped, scandalized.

“But you’re the best !” She argued. “I wanna be just like you when I grow up!”

Chuckling, Quiverwing asked, “How old are you?”

“I’m eleven,” Webby said.

“I’ll tell you a secret,” Quiverwing leaned closer to Webby. “I actually started three years ago, when I was your age.”

“What?!” Webby exclaimed.

“Yeah. My dad was pretty against it, but my pops convinced him to let me join patrols here and there,” Quiverwing leaned back. The good mood seemed to drop when she looked at Webby’s granny, though. Webby looked back to see why. Arms still crossed, Granny was frowning at Quiverwing.

“I wish you’d be a better influence on my granddaughter,” Granny said simply.

Quiverwing looked back at the fridge awkwardly. “So… are you gonna tell my dads?”

For the third time that night, Webby’s grandmother sighed. “Not if you don't do it again.”

And once again, Quiverwing broke into a grin. “You're the best, aunt B!”

“Yes, yes. Now get going before your father realizes you're gone.” Granny waved her away.

Quiverwing snapped a salute before she jumped out the open window.

Huey

“Alright, Huey, so you take this thingamajig-” Launchpad was saying. Huey glanced over at him from his place standing on the stool. This whole time Launchpad had said maybe one technical term. But it was still surprisingly helpful. Somehow, Huey was sure he’d get his mechanics badge.

They were pretty deep in the engine, Launchpad covered in grease to his elbows, when it happened. A girl skidded into the room. Her arms were flailing. None of her words really made sense to Huey. Not with the way they were coming out like half-formed, half-thought things. “Dad! Quackerjack!” The girl’s arms went wide and stopped there. “ Big bear!! ” But they must’ve made sense to Launchpad. He straightened up out of the engine quickly enough that his head hit the hood. If it hurt him, there was no indication.

“Is he hurt?” Launchpad asked her, hands going to her shoulder.

Quickly she shook her head. “No worse than usual. We need your help.”

“Alright,” Launchpad nodded before he turned to Huey. “Sorry, Hue. Can we continue this later?”

“Sure,” Huey said, feeling a bit thrown. This had to be the ‘Quiverwing Quack’ his siblings had mentioned. But actually seeing her wasn’t quite like it’d sounded. She appeared out of nowhere, sure. The way the others explained it, though. Well, Huey thought it would be more magical. Or something. Definitely more controlled and calm.

She left as quickly as she had come. This time with Launchpad in tow.

Gosalyn Mallard-Mcquack

It’s raining outside. Like, really raining. They’re at the McDuck manor, still in costume. It was a weekend so her pops didn’t join the patrol. As Quiverwing adjusted her dad on her shoulder, she wondered if maybe she should’ve asked him to. But it’s too late to ask that. She adjusted him again so she could knock on the door. In her hurry she’d skipped the gate, but maybe she shouldn’t have. Aunt Beakley would’ve let her in both doors immediately. All well. That was past too.

She didn’t stop knocking on the door, hoping she’d be heard over all this rain. Under her hand her dad’s shoulder feels tacky. Her clothes have been sticking to the wound in her side for the past ten minutes. There were more wounds, too. Her dad’s foot was definitely probably broken, a wound on her thigh would likely need stitches, same with her dad’s arm and his shoulder. He’d gotten it worse than her. Neither of them had expected Bushroot’s new carnivorous rose bushes. The bushes had caught them completely by surprise, taking a chunk of her dad’s arm. At least they’d beaten Bushroot.

Though it didn’t quite feel like it. Especially as Mr. McDee pushed the door open, grumbling about patience and uninvited guests. As her dad started to slip in her grip, she smiled shakily. “Hey, Mr. McDee. My pops here?”.

For a minute that felt like forever he just searched her face, looking confused. Then he called out for Aunt Beakley, who immediately took her dad from her. Once that weight was removed, Quiverwing felt her body slump. All the pain she'd held at bay to keep her dad up came roaring to the front. The pain in her thigh made her knee buckle. If not for Mr. McDee she’s sure she would’ve been on the porch. “Where's… my pops?” Quiverwing asked him, not sure why he'd gotten her aunt instead.

“Who, lass?” Mr. McDee asked her. The confused look hadn't left his face. It took her a minute to understand why. Her pops must not have mentioned their family’s superhero side business. Or, main business for her dad.

“Launchpad.” At this point, Quiverwing wasn't sure if the pain was getting worse or if it was numbing. Maybe both. Could it do both? After a second a light practically visibly flickered on in Mr. McDee’s head.

“Don't worry, lass, I'm sure Mrs. Beakley is getting him.”

Quiverwing smiled. “Good.”

Then she finally let it go black.

“Gosalyn!” Her pops’ voice was the first thing she heard, fading in until it was too loud.

“It’s Quiverwing,” she moaned, sitting up. The wound in her side smarted. She ignored it. Instead she opened her eyes to see her pops staring at her. Worry all over his face. Quiverwing smiled. “Gee, what’s the matter? It’s like you’ve never seen me injured before. Remember when my coach kicked the soccer ball into the goal while I was still in it?”

Her pops smiled a little wavery and chuckled. “Your first concussion.”

“Yep.” Neither mentioned that this was worse than that. There was no reason to. They both knew it. “How’s dad?”

Briefly he looked somewhere behind himself. Quiverwing tried to look too, but her pops covered her entire field of vision. “He’s good. Aunt B’s helping him.” From Quiverwing’s side there was a bit of a gush. It was a voice she recognized.

“Is Quiverwing alright, Launchpad?” Her little fan asked. Quiverwing turned to see the four kids she’d briefly met standing to the side. All with expressions varying from confused to worried.

“I’m alright, Webby,” she told her.

“Why’d you come here?” Dewey asked. His eyes were narrowed. Suspicious. A similar look was on Huey’s face.

“And how’re you getting past the gate?” Huey asked.

She frowned at them. “There’s a portal to the hideout on the grounds.” The ‘where’ was left out. It was best they didn’t know. And she could only hope the mansion had enough rooms to keep them from realizing where it was. Dad would kill her if random kids entered the hideout. Especially if he found out she told them.

“What?” Huey frowned at her. “Why would Launchpad have a portal to a superhero’s hideout?”

The question threw Quiverwing. Why wouldn’t he? He was part of a superhero family, after all. They had to know that. Though, she guessed they did look surprised whenever she came for him. And Mr. McDee hadn’t even known… Oh. Oh . With a pained laugh she eyed her pops. “Forgot to tell them something, Pops?”

“Uh…” Her pops said, rubbing his neck awkwardly. If he wasn’t so close to her it would’ve been drowned out by the chorus of ‘What?!’s that followed. A single “Told you!” broke through it and Quiverwing turned to see Louie smiling triumphantly at his siblings. It caused her to snort. “Sorry, guys. Meet Quiverwing. My daughter.”

“Gosalyn Mallard-Mcquack,” Gosalyn introduced herself. “Nice to formally meet you guys.”

“Mallard-Mcquack?” Huey asked, turning to her pops. “Are you married?”

Gosalyn gasped. “Have you not told them about us?” But her pops just looked at her confused, nodding. Yeah, he had.

There was a pause. “You know… he has mentioned a kid before,” Webby said.

“And I guess he does talk about a ‘DW’ sometimes,” Dewey added.

“Wait,” Huey said. “Isn't DW… Dark… wing…”

Everything went quiet as the four siblings stared at each other. Then they all let out a simultaneous ‘oooooooh’.

“Totally makes sense,” Dewey said.

“I don't know how we didn't see it sooner,” Webby agreed.

Everybody agreed with both sentiments. If she didn't know it'd hurt, Gosalyn would've laughed. For now she settled on lying back down. The others’ voices washing over her. She knew that when her dad woke up they’d be having a long talk. Or, more likely, argument. But that was a ways off. So she let herself doze, knowing that her and her dad would be fine. Pops would keep an eye on them.

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momomaizono · 2 years

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Oops I did it again

#hajime hinata #danganronpa #Super Danganronpa 2 #super danganronpa 2 goodbye despair #sdr2 #ducktales 2017 #ducktales #camp duckburg #screenshot redraw #my art

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waveypedia · 3 years

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got fears but i face them

Lena and Webby finally reconcile.

Ao3

Webby and Lena don’t talk until three full days after the FOWL raid.

Oh, they talk, all right. Dewey never misses an opportunity to drag the kids together and gush about the adventure. While they had floated and filtered throughout the family on the long ride home, the ten kids had made an unspoken home base in the bottom corner of the plane, near the emergency hatch that Launchpad had accidentally opened. They chatted brightly, sharing jokes and trading jabs, high on the adrenaline of a long day and a treacherous fight won. But Webby and Lena never interacted directly in their conversations beyond pleasantries.

They didn’t talk in the way that mattered.

After the comfortingly familiar sight of Duckburg had crested over the horizon and the plane had landed, Webby and Lena left each other without so much as a goodbye. Ty and Indy were hovering impatiently at the Sunchaser’s doors, flooding inside as soon as they possibly could and scooping Violet and Lena in their arms. Webby stood off to the side, her grandmother’s steady hands on her shoulders. She watches two doting fathers hold their daughters close and thinks about family. She thinks about her Granny, and Huey, Dewey, and Louie, and Uncle Scrooge-Dad, and Uncle Donald and Aunt Della. She thinks about May and June, safe and happy with Uncle Donald and Aunt Daisy.

She thinks about June in her room and a flippantly cut string and Lena’s wrath. June watches Lena too, with Aunt Daisy’s hand on her head, and guilt flashes in her naive eyes.

It’s almost the push she needs. Energy floods Webby’s tired body, and she tenses to surge forward and crash at Lena’s feet, blubbering with apologies and tears.

Granny’s hand tightens on her shoulder, a silent warning.

Webby glances up. Granny’s eyes meet hers, as wise and clever as ever. She shakes her head, a tiny signal. As always, Granny can read Webby perfectly. Webby may not be able to read Granny so accurately, but this time the message is clear. Now is not the time.

Webby understands. With her family’s help, she’s getting better at social cues. This is the Sabrewing family’s moment, not hers.

Webby looks away.

Webby looks away, and promises to claim her moment soon.

After that, the next few days are both a flurry of activity and uncharacteristically empty for an adventuring family such as the McDucks. As per usual after an adventure, they trudge into the mansion, adrenaline sludging off in droves, and crash in bed for the next twelve hours. Webby wakes to the smell of blueberry pancakes, her favorite in childhood, and stumbles downstairs to where Granny is occupying the empty kitchen, a small, knowing smile on her face. She eats, watches the unfortunately missed Ottoman Empire series finale with her brothers (“I can’t believe we missed the series finale!” “We had to go rescue Webby and Huey, Louie.” “Yeah, but it’s the series finale! Now the show is over and there’ll be no more Ottoman Empire, ever!” “Eh, I’m sure they’ll reboot it in another thirty years.” “Yeah, but I’ll be old by then!”), eats less-than-healthy food that the adults let slide, and sleeps again.

On the second day, Webby and her brothers set up a room for May and June at the mansion while Aunt Della, Uncle Donald, and Aunt Daisy make last-minute arrangements to bring two extra kids on their vacation. May and June apologize, awkwardly and haltingly, at every possible occasion, and it’s all Webby and her brothers can do to lessen their guilt. But there’s one apology that sticks with Webby more than the rest.

June pulls her aside late into the afternoon, while Huey is teaching May the Junior Woodchuck certified method for hanging up curtains.

“I’m sorry for cutting your string,” June says, nervously playing with her pigtails. “I know it’s really important to you.”

“It’s fine!” Webby’s voice is much brighter than she feels. The memory leaves an acidic sensation in her stomach and a bad taste in her mouth. Tears prick at her eyes at the secondhand sensation of Lena’s destructive fury and June’s panicked cries. But most of all, the helplessness and unsureness Webby felt in the moment. She had to watch her best friend tear into her adopted sister without a second thought, and part of it was justified but not all, and she didn’t know what to do. Her undying loyalty was shot in the face of uncertainty of who to pledge it to.

June frowns at her. She may be a FOWL clone, a test tube baby, barely a few months old, but she’s sharper than she looks. Louie’s lessons must be paying off. “It- it doesn’t have to be. I know I messed up. I messed up a lot.”

“You didn’t know what you were doing,” Webby says. The lie is heavy on her tongue, even if she means well.

June can’t meet her gaze. “Please, Apri- Webby.” Her sister’s head snaps up, her gaze shining and uncharacteristically serious. “Don’t make allowances. I want to earn your forgiveness.”

Webby blinks, stunned speechless, for a few moments. When she finds her voice, she clears her throat hesitantly. “Thanks. I… I appreciate that.”

June licks her lips nervously and nods her head, slow and careful. “Thank you for listening to me. It’s… new to me.”

Webby smiles awkwardly. “Of course, sis.”

As she had intended, June’s eyes light up at the term, and her vivacious smile is back in full smile. She squeals and squeezes Webby in a quick hug before returning to Dewey and Louie, the former who is trying to get the latter to do his laundry. Webby smiles fondly.

Webby knows most siblings don’t really call each other “bro” and “sis”. It’s a fixture of the media. Dewey explained it to her a week after Huey, Dewey, and Louie sat her down and told her in no uncertain terms they wanted her to be their sister. (She cried.) But with May and June, it feels right. They may not be normal siblings by both the media’s and society’s standards, but they’re sisters all the same.

The smile slips off Webby’s face as her thoughts spiral. June was right. The string issue is still bothering her, and she needs to address it.

Lena and Violet haven’t stopped by the mansion since the original failed FOWL raid. It’s not unusual for them to stop by later after an adventure, but usually they stay for the night after the trip.

They didn’t this time. Ty and Indy swept them away.

In bed, on the night of the second day, Webby lies awake long after lights-out. She stares at the ceiling, at the glow-in-the-dark stars she and Lena stuck up there two years ago, back when Lena was stuck as Magica’s lackey. The fear in her gut curdles into steady determination, and Webby Vanderquack makes a decision.

She picks up her phone, charging next to her, and texts Violet. Can I come over tomorrow?

Despite the late hour, Violet replies immediately. That would be agreeable.

No text bubble pops up to indicate Violet wants to say more, so Webby likes her message and sets her phone on the nightstand next to her. She lies her hands crossed on her belly and breathes deeply, wide awake. But a few minutes later, her phone buzzes again.

Is this purely a social call, or do you wish to speak to Lena?

Webby stares at the screen for a couple minutes, biting her lip. She knows Violet’s seen her read receipt, and usually that would spur Webby into action, but she can’t spew nonsensical responses right now.

Finally, she settles on a simple Yes.

Violet’s reply is swift. Good.

This time, her typing bubble pops up almost immediately. Lena has been much more reticent since we departed Alexandria. My research has shown me that communication is the most effective path to healthy relationships.

Webby’s beak quirks up in a small, fond smile. Yeah. Me too.

I do not doubt that the pair of you will heal each other. Violet responds. Good night, Webbigail.

Gnight, Vi.

At precisely one-thirteen PM on the third day, Webby stands on the doorstep of the Sabrewing household, clutching a small purse and a bag of candy.

She rings the doorbell, and Ty greets her at the door. His face splits into a warm, fond smile at the sight of her, and it warms Webby’s heart. Ty and Indy are by no means the adults she’s closest to in her family, but from the moment Webby met them, they’ve never failed to make her feel welcome and safe and loved.

“Come in, come in!” Ty gushes, guiding her into their familiar foyer, where Violet is peacefully reading a book. “Lena’s upstairs.”

“I’ll show her, father. Thank you.” Violet rises from her armchair, placing a bookmark in her book and carefully setting it down on the coffee table. She gracefully crosses the room and latches onto Webby’s arm.

“Okay. Have fun, you guys! I’ll make some snacks.” Ty gives Webby a quick hug and kisses Violet on the head, and then waves them away. Violet tugs Webby up the stairs and up to Lena and Violet’s shared room.

They pause outside the shut door. One of the Featherweights’ old albums floats through the walls.

“This is where I leave you,” Violet intones. “Call me when you are finished.”

Webby smiles. “Thanks, Vi.”

Violet starts to step away, but pauses. “Webbigail?”

“Yes?”

Violet turns to fully face Webby, her expression deathly serious. “You are my best friend. But if you ever hurt Lena, I will hurt you. Tread carefully.”

Webby grins. “Thanks, Vi. Don’t worry.”

Violet sniffs, offended at the mere accusation. “I will not.”

She leaves, and Webby turns to face the door. She spends a moment visually exploring every nook and cranny of the soft oak, and then takes a deep breath and knocks.

Lena opens the door, hair disheveled. “Dad, I don’t want chocola- Oh. Pink.”

Webby rocks nervously back and forth on her feet. “Hey, Lena.”

Lena blinks at her, her expression unreadable, before stepping aside and gesturing to the inside of the room. “Well, I guess you’d better come in.”

Webby smiles nervously and steps inside.

Lena and Violet’s room is messy and cluttered in a way nothing in the mansion is, because for all the Duck family’s characteristic untidiness, the mansion is simply too big and Granny is too competent of a housekeeper to let any clutter stay. Like Uncle Donald’s houseboat, Lena and Violet’s room, and the entire Sabrewing house, is cluttered because it’s lived in. It feels homey. It feels like family.

The room is filled to the brim with Violet’s various books - both hobbyist and scholarly, and Lena’s hair dye and vinyl albums. In the corner, Lena’s pet raven watches Webby carefully from its cage. They’re all in agreement that he’s not a normal raven, but his latent abnormalcy has yet to show itself.

“So.” Lena crosses the room to stand by her bed and her raven’s cage, shoving her hands deep in her pockets and rocking back on her heels. She won’t meet Webby’s eyes. “What’s up?”

Webby fidgets with the friendship bracelet on her wrist. The strings are frayed and soft from three years of constant wear and similar stimming. “I… I came to apologize.”

Lena’s hand strays to her bracelet as well. “Me too, Pink.”

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you for blowing up at June,” Webby says. “You told me not to forget you and, in your perspective, I basically did.”

“No, it’s my fault,” Lena sighs. “I let my temper get the better of me. I knew June was basically a little kid, and I still blew up at her. It was because of me that she got the opportunity to run off and steal the Sword of Swanstantine.”

Lena tugs at the hem of her sweater, scowling darkly. “I guess I just almost killed my family. Again. It’s fine; I’m used to it.”

The words are barely out of her mouth before Webby launches herself at Lena, barely able to contain herself. She wraps her arms around Lena and buries her head in the soft, worn cloth of Lena’s sweater. “You shouldn’t be! It wasn’t your fault before and it’s even less of your fault now. You’re part of this family.”

Lena’s arms rest lightly around Webby’s shoulders, and her chin touches the top of Webby’s head. “Yeah, I know that by now, Pink. I’ve come a long way, huh? But that doesn’t erase the fact that I messed up.”

“Well, so did I.” Webby replies stubbornly.

Abruptly, Lena pulls apart, her hands set steadily on Webby’s shoulders. She stares straight into Webby’s eyes. “Webby, I know the boys are your brothers, but for the first time in your life, you had a link to your biological family,” Lena states. “I don’t blame you for defending them, and you shouldn’t either!” For the first time, Lena drops her gaze, her beak curling in frustration. “I overreacted. Plain and simple.”

“But it came from a place of love,” Webby insists, her lower beak wobbling. “I- It means so much to me that our relationship means so much to you that June cutting our string set you off like that! Really!”

Lena smirks. “That’s sweet, Pink. It’s true. But I still shouldn’t have used my magic.”

“Maybe it was a little much,” Webby finally admits. Lena scoffs at that, but otherwise stays quiet. “But please don’t blame yourself. Bradford and Black Heron set May and June up to steal me and the Missing Mysteries. They would’ve found a way to cause an issue with or without you.”

Lena squeezes her shoulder. “There, you see? It’s Bradford and Black Heron’s fault, not yours.”

“But they were after me,” Webby insists. “And- and maybe if I’d been a little more forceful with Granny, maybe she would’ve told me about my real heritage.”

Lena snorts. “Please, Pink, Tea Time wasn’t the best spy in the biz for nothing. She didn’t spill her secrets until all other hope was lost and her literal worst nightmare had come true before her eyes.” Webby flinches at that, and Lena’s tone and grip softens. “Point being, it’s not your fault.”

“Well, it’s not yours either,” Webby insists.

“Maybe not,” Lena admits at last. “But I’m still going to apologize to June. Maybe I didn’t cause the Annual Duck-McDuck Family Crisis, but I still hurt June. That wasn’t okay.”

Webby smiles. “Thanks, Lena. I’m so happy you guys are trying to get along.”

Lena grins back. “Eh, we’ve got a lot in common. I’ll bring her and May over to my weekly ‘So your childhood guardian was a villain who used you to try and kill your new family’ hangouts I have with Boyd and they’ll be sold. Hopefully.”

The mental image of Lena, Boyd, May, and June hanging out at one of Lena’s favorite dives and discussing the perils of their childhoods over greasy burgers brings a smile to Webby’s face. “I’m sure they’ll love that. Eventually.”

“They’ll come around,” Lena says, but she doesn’t sound entirely sure.

“They will,” Webby affirms. “They’re… it’s not easy to adjust. Their entire lives were upended. But they’re trying.”

Lena smiles. “That’s all I ask for,” she says simply. “As long as I can help.”

“You will,” Webby promises. “Now, do you agree that you weren’t responsible for the incident?”

“Yeah,” Lena smiles wryly. “But neither were you.”

Webby clutches her elbow. “I still messed up, though. I could’ve handled it better. And I still hurt you.”

Now it’s Lena’s turn to rush forward and squeeze her in a hug. “Well, I guess we both did,” she murmurs, a little too flippantly. “Good thing we both came to apologize, yeah?”

“Mhm.” Webby nods into Lena’s chest. She’s so soft and warm and stable. “So, are we good?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Lena replies. “I need to apologize to June.”

They sit on Lena’s bed, and Webby leans into Lena’s side, toying with her friendship. “I missed you,” she murmurs, avoiding Lena’s eyes.

Lena chuckles, and while it’s in good faith, there’s not much amusement behind it. She ruffles Webby’s hair lightly. “I was only gone for a couple days, Pink.”

“Three,” Webby corrects absentmindedly. “This is the third day.”

Lena grins. “So you kept count, eh?”

“Of course,” Webby responds matter-of-factly. “It was all I could think about.” She readjusts herself so she’s leaning against Lena more, and tilts her head back to see Lena’s face.

Lena is blinking, baffled, before her beak curves into a small, fond smile. “Huh. Me too.”

Webby’s smile grows and grows. Lena’s come a long, long way since Webby followed that fateful message in a bottle. She’s been much more comfortable with open affection for a long time now, but it still makes Webby’s heart sing.

“We should do something,” Lena hums. “Hang out, with no adventure or magical villain threatening our lives. We haven’t done that in a while.”

Webby laughs softly. “Yeah, it has been a while, hasn’t it? But you should know by now. There are no normal hangouts in this family.”

Lena chuckles, soft and fond. “Yeah, well. I’ll take whatever I can get as long as I can hang out with you.” She wraps her arm tighter around Webby, and snuggles closer. “I know what I signed up for when I joined this family.”

They sit together on Lena’s bed, facing away from each other, in the comfortable silence.

“You know,” Webby breaks it after a few minutes. Her nervous fidgeting has returned. “You know, sometimes I wish it didn’t happen like this.”

Lena blinks. “Hm?”

“I-” Webby gestures animatedly, frustrated, days and months and years of pent-up emotion spilling out all at once. “I wish I didn’t have to find out about my family this way. I wish Granny could’ve just told me, without the FOWL capture and fights to the death and kidnapping all of our friends. I’m okay now, but… but it was really scary,” she finishes in a small voice, burying her head in her hands. “I didn’t know what was going to happen. I didn’t know if my family would be okay.”

“Oh, Pink.” Lena gathers Webby into her arms and pulls her onto her lap. “I know how you feel. It must’ve been really scary.”

“It was,” Webby murmurs. “It really was. But I love adventuring, and I already know what would happen if we stopped - heck, Uncle Donald already made that wish! And it didn’t turn out well! I shouldn’t feel this way, and I hate it.”

“You know, those two feelings aren’t mutually exclusive,” Lena says, raising her eyebrows.

Webby twists in her embrace to meet her gaze. “Huh?”

Lena shrugs. “There isn’t much to it, honestly. Your daily, run-of-the-mill adventures aren’t the same as this scheme Bradford’s been cookin’ up for decades. They don’t usually involve life-changing revelations.”

“Yeah, but…” Webby sags in her embrace. “It’s still an adventure.”

“Honestly, it’s not healthy for you guys to keep having all your major events in life-or-death situations,” Lena snorts wryly. “But I guess that’s our family for you. Doesn’t mean it should stay that way, though.”

“Sometimes it’s out of our control,” Webby murmurs, a half-hearted protest for a battle she already knows she’s lost and didn’t even want to win in the first place. “Like when Lunaris chased Aunt Della down to Earth. She thought he was a friend. Or… or when Magica attacked us.”

“Yeah,” Lena mutters. “But your grandma still shouldn’t have lied to you.”

“She said she won’t anymore,” Webby says.

“And that’s great.” Lena squeezes her tighter. “That means it probably won’t happen again. The past is in the past, Pink. You can’t change it. Trust me, I’ve had my fair share of troubles with that fact.”

“You can’t control what other people do,” Lena continues. “Like with Lunaris and… and Magica. All you can control is yourself.”

“I’ll do my best to spill all my secrets before one of Dad’s mortal enemies has to threaten my life for it,” Webby snorts, half-sardonic and half-lighthearted.

Lena punches her gently. “I don’t think you’ll ever have a problem with that, Pink. You’re a pretty open book.”

Webby bites her lip. “That’s not a bad thing, is it? Bradford and my sisters were able to manipulate me pretty easily.”

Lena scoffs. “Yeah, and it ended so well for Bradford, didn’t it?” Webby keeps her gaze away from Lena’s face, and instead watches Lena’s hands clench and unclench into fists.

Lena sighs, taking a deep breath to reorient herself. “What I mean, Pink, is that it’s not a bad thing. Honestly, it’s one of your best qualities. I know I wouldn’t be here today if you weren’t so trusting and earnest.”

Webby smiles, but it’s forced. Evidently, she hasn’t picked up enough of Louie’s tricks yet, because Lena’s unwavering, deepening frown tells Webby she can see right through her.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t train,” Lena offers. “I don’t think you should become more distrusting and cynical, but maybe you can work to recognize when others are trying to manipulate you.”

Lena glances down at her hands, spinning a stray pencil (where did she get that?) around her fingers. “I could help you, if you’d like.”

Webby grins up at her, teary and emotional. “I’d like that.”

Lena drops the pencil and wraps her arms around Webby again. For the millionth time that day, Webby buries her head in the comforting familiarity of Lena’s soft sweater.

“I missed you,” Lena murmurs.

“Me too,” Webby replies. “So much.”

“So very much,” Lena echoes, and tugs Webby closer.

For the first time in three days, the tension dragging Webby down loosens, and she is free. She is home.

i started writing this either the day of or the day after the finale, left it alone for two weeks, and wrote the second half today during a writing sprint (shoutout to silv’s server!). funny how these things work.

i have a lot of feelings on the finale, both good and bad, but i’m always going to be sad that lena and webby’s direct interaction in the entire series was a fight. they didn’t deserve that.

i love dropping in little headcanons and doing little worldbuilding with places like lena and violet’s room. it sounds like a cozy place. there’s literally no way to prove this unless frank returns from his hiatus and answers an ask ig but if poe isn’t still out there and doesn’t end up drawn to lena i’ll eat my hat. let him be her weird familiar/uncle!! cmon disney!!

title is from i’ll show you by k/da! i originally used a different lyric (”heart full of fire”) as a placeholder and now i want to use it in something else because it’s so pretty haha

i love webby and lena. while i was writing this i was thinking about how in some of the recent amphibia episodes, one of the characters was hurt by another’s good intentions and wants to forgive them, but needs time. i thought about going that route but honestly? i think they just need to talk this one out. neither of them were really mad. the moment just caught up to them. they’re so close and in tune with each other.

reblogs > likes!

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #dt17 #webby vanderquack #lena sabrewing #june duck #ducktales june #ducktales fanfiction #the last adventure #wavey writes

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strawberrytheduck · 3 years

Text

Belle Quacks-Chapter 15

Morgana stood frozen, an unknown look on her face. Belle looked down at the floor, trying to avoid crying. Negative thoughts swirled through her head, causing her to second guess everything. ‘Megavolt was wrong, I know it.’ She thought, along with many other things. Morgana could never love her, not with other women so much more beautiful than her. There were so many ugly things about her and she was so childish, Morgana was too good for someone like that. Why was she just standing there, not talking? Was she thinking of a good way to reject her? Was she just confused? “J-JUST- ... please, just- j-just say s-something...”Belle begged, fighting back a sob. The sorceress seemed taken aback by her sudden outburst, opening her beak to say something. But nothing came. She was utterly speechless. Belle hated it, looking up at Morgana before storming off outside. She wasn’t necessarily angry, just hurt despite not hearing anything. The smaller duck, consciously in her desire for solitude, zoned out from hearing Morgana call her name in effort to get her to stop. Picking up the pace, she ran to the bridge between Duckburg and St. Canard, the sun beginning to set as she got there.

Her jade eyes stared down at the water below the bridge, tears still falling like tiny diamonds from her eyes. Who was she kidding? Morgana was too good for her, out of her league. It felt like her heart had been ripped out and thrown on the ground. Painful. Looking at the water helped a little, especially due to how her tears just merged effortlessly into the dark, cool liquid beneath her. She began zoning out when she felt a large strong hand on her shoulder. “Go away.” She muttered. “Are ya’ sure you want me to?” Came a very familiar voice. It was Launchpad, Darkwing’s sidekick. She didn’t respond, just kept looking down. “Come on, tell ol’ LP what’s got you down.” He said, rubbing her back comfortingly. She told him what she said to Morgana, saying how she just stood there. He listened to her explain how it played out in her head, how it hurt her deeply. “She doesn’t love you? Huh, strange, that’s not what I thought. She would always talk about you.”

‘Sure she did.’ She thought bitterly. LP could almost tell she didn’t believe him, opting to just pull her in for a hug. It was a little strange to her, given she wasn’t really close with him, but everyone she knew talked about how he was amazing at reading emotions, how he only ever has good intentions. Belle hugged him as tight as possible, sobbing into his shoulder. The pilot stroked her hair, reassuring her constantly. She felt safe with him, strangely enough. Maybe because he had a similar air to Camellia, being nothing but caring towards her. It was nice to be held, especially right now. “I know that Morgana really likes you, she loves talking about you. She goes pink every time too.” She did? No, that doesn’t seem right. Morgana wasn’t easy to fluster she didn’t think, an intimidating but actually very sweet sorceress wouldn’t be like that. “Belle, there you are!” She looked up to see Morgana, her hair down and soaking wet. It took Belle a second to register it was raining, something she noticed when she saw Morgana. The taller of the two ladies took Belle from LP, hugging her and crying. “You had me so worried!” She did? Belle kept crying, tangling her smaller hands in Morgana’s. LP pat them both on the back, waving goodbye to them before leaving.

“I’m sorry I worried you, I just had to get away before hearing you say you don’t love me back.” Morgana’s breath audibly hitched for a second. She buried her face in Belle’s neck, sobbing. Belle was frozen, confused. This was new for Belle, no one really did this to her often. She wasn’t the shoulder people cried on. Morgana pulled away, looking Belle in the eyes. The smaller duck used her thumb to wipe away Morgana’s tears. The taller nudged her cheek into the smaller’s hand, smiling at the pale haired lady in her arms. Oh how Belle wanted to kiss Morgana, but she couldn’t, not now. “Your eyes are so beautiful Sweet, I could stare into them for the rest of eternity.” Belle blushed, smiling warmly. Morgana took the scarf from around her neck and put it around Belle, acting much as a shawl due to how wide it was.

Belle snuggled into Morgana, letting herself be carried back to Morgana’s house. Halfway there, Belle repeated something she admitted earlier. “I love you Morgana, so much.” The rain made it sound like she was mumbling, she kinda thought Morgana didn’t hear her. “I-I love you, too. S-Sorry I didn’t say earlier, I-I almost couldn’t believe it s-so it took me a minute.” Belle’s heart skipped a beat, her face turned bright pink. Despite the rain, she felt warm. She loves her? She loves her! Belle squealed, letting go of Morgana to flap her hands. She kicked her legs a little too. Morgana giggled, smiling at the smaller duck in her arms. Belle’s giggles were super cute, Morgana loved it, along with much more. Morgana set her down, letting Belle stand up and hug her arm, tail wagging ecstatically. Belle got her tiptoes, grabbing Morgana’s cheeks and gently pulling her down. Neither cared as the rain fell, soaking them through to their very core. Suddenly but softly, their beaks met in a kiss. Fireworks lit up behind Belle’s eyelids and her heart sounded louder in her ears. Morgana could feel the same, who would’ve thought she would be kissing the woman she loved in the rain.

Pulling away, Belle started crying again, overwhelmed with positive emotions. Morgana started crying too, giving Belle a second, chaste kiss on the beak. Both were incredibly happy, enjoying each other’s company. “Morgana?!” A recognisable voice said in disbelief. Under an umbrella was Darkwing himself. “There you are, your granny was... so worried... Am I interrupting something?” He gestured to the two. “Yes actually Dark, you interrupted my GIRLFRIEND and I.” She replied, emphasising girlfriend to confirm to Belle that this was in fact real. Darkwing apologized, offering to walk both girls home given he had an umbrella. They accepted, walking hand in hand. Belle hugged Morgana’s arm again, sighing softly and contently. The sorceress kissed her on the forehead, smiling fondly at her. A girlfriend, Belle had a girlfriend and it was the most gorgeous woman she had ever seen. She got a text from Camellia, checking up on her. Belle texted back that she was great and that she was now dating Morgana. Naturally, she was going to tell her best friend.

It started a little rocky, but it ended wonderfully. Morgana got scolded by her granny, but she wasn’t fazed. They both took showers and changed into their pyjamas, sitting on the couch to watch some stupid comedy. Morgana’s granny said she was glad they were okay, warning them though to not do that again. The smaller snuggled into Morgana’s side, hugging the plushie of her brother close to her chest. Morgana stroked her hair, saying “I love you” as she did. “I love you too, so much.” Megavolt was right, she loved her.

#morgana macawber #oc x canon #darkwing duck oc #darkwing duck ocs #darkwing duck #launchpad mcquack

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callme--starchild · 4 years

Text

Sleeping Agent

Crossing the door of the manor, Donald rubbed his temples trying to ignore the back pain and migraine that were starting to increase, feeling his wings burn. He was sure he had lost a few layers, and though he had made sure to shower properly on the return jet, he was sure to continue to suck in the mix of odors that were sweat, tobacco and leather from his last mission well above the excess second-hand cologne that had been oversprayed.

Or maybe those scents were still permeated in his nostrils and he was being very dramatic, because he had inhaled them when he was wearing his tuxedo, tuxedo that he now kept in a briefcase in the trunk of his minivan, and he was completely sure that the signs of Kay K's perfume was still present on his shirt from the moment she'd hugged him when he said goodbye to her.

Finally stopping the car, and feeling full in the familiar environment that was the mansion, he allowed the ghost of a smile to appear on his face. He could perceive the lights on inside, indicating that the family had already returned from the recent adventure.

He could already hear his sister's talk about the temple they had visited and the treasure she had found, even how the children, being the incredible preteens they were, had favored the search. He could already hear Huey talk about the discoveries he had added — that even though he didn't understand it was worth it to see his nephew smile. He could already hear Dewey and Webby bragging about the amazing — and dangerous — maneuvers they had performed. And he certainly could hear Louie stammering about the treasure they would now have found, the value it might have had it not been for Scrooge keeping everything in his money bin.

Surely they would add one more pang to his headache, but that was the charm of his family and he doubted he could trade it for all the treasures in the world.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he got out of the vehicle turning the key between his fingers, inhaling the warm aroma of home. Until he finally chose to crack his back, growling under his breath at the sound of his bones snapping.

"Not bad for a sleeper agent," he dared to murmur cautiously, grinning as he felt his heavy lids. And is that to have dealt with life-threatening missions, the Agency had commissioned a walk in the park; that it had been as exhausting as an old mission— wow, he hadn't realized how much he missed feeling this adrenaline.

Which, by the way, was not easy to hide during adventures. Fortunately his yearning to protect from protecting triplets — and Webby — was stronger.

"I'm sure Kay K thinks the same thing..." He sighed happily, remembering the sparkle in the agent's expression when they made eye contact, feeling the same haze in his gaze before Head H's attentive gaze, "we've been apart for so long, I have a lot to tell her."

But now, Donald thought allowing a yawn to escape his beak, it was time to rest. Yes, he had missed being the agent DoubleDuck, but his favorite part of the business was finishing the mission, going back to being Donald Duck, taking a relaxing warm shower, and sleeping; just him, his hammock, and his cozy houseboat, waiting for him with its lights on—

Wait a minute. He stopped abruptly, catching the key before it could escape his grasp. Though he used to be confused on some occasions, he was sure that he had kept the place in darkness at the time he was called, because the sun had not even set when it was solicited by The Agency, and his nephews would have called him if needed.

Unless ... no, no. He shook his head. Perhaps DoubleDuck's adrenaline was still flowing through his veins, because it was practically impossible for The Organization to be. The place would be practically a bigger mess than usual and, modesty aside, he was cautious enough to keep his double life apart — that is, ever since he accidentally involved Daisy in it.

"You're overreacting, Donald," he said to himself, taking a deep breath to slow his pulse and let out a maniacal laugh, mocking himself, "surely it's Dells trying to use your stuff again."

Without realizing it, his steps had become more distant and hesitant. He was trying to think of his sister snooping in the boat one more time, or the triplets preparing to play a prank on him. His paranoia was bringing out the worst in him, he thought as she walked across the gangplank. The thrill of being the agent was over and it was time to go back to being the boring, simple Donald F. Duck, he was trying to remember himself.

"You certainly know how to hide better after so many years, DD" or maybe not. Kay K sat on his worn sofa, casually sipping from a recyclable cup. Her short hair was tied up in a yellow headband and she was wearing a new change of clothes.

In front of her, a paper bag with a dessert logo rested on the coffee table. Well, he couldn't say he was surprised.

"How did you get inside?" For a moment his voice came out rougher than normal, and clearing his throat he headed for the kitchen. He definitely needed a gallon of water after that self-infused death scare, feeling his rapid pulse.

"You hide your spare keys in very typical places. You must be cautious about it." Still, she couldn't help but smile slyly, watching her partner pour himself a glass, crossing both legs in an absentminded mannerism.

If the agent was able to sense Donald's stench, she said nothing. She must assume that he was already aware of that. And definitely, the duck was thankful for that; he had enough exhaustion to bear himself with to tolerate some sarcastic behavior from his fellow agent.

"I want my family to know that they can always count on me, or that they can easily find me if they need it." What he knew was a vile lie, his presence pushed aside since Della had returned. At least it didn't sound as bad as it was on his mind, and while Kay K wasn't as credulous — she was one of the best at the agency for a reason after all, he preferred to have the benefit of the doubt about what his relationship with his family was like.

The glitter in his gaze had dimmed for a moment, and Arianne smiled empathetically. Donald was a lousy liar, but there was no doubt that he had a great heart.

"You are definitely still the same sensitive man who once entered the Agency not knowing how he entered in the first place" and judging by her smile, Donald did not feel that for once Kay K was trying to play with him, putting her vase of coffee on the coffee table, next to another closed disposable cup. "But as much as I would have liked, I didn't come here to hang out."

She tried not to laugh when her partner growled under his breath, she was as unhappy as he was. Donald's feathers had been a mess, practically since they returned to Duckburg, and that made her companion's dark circles more noticeable. At least his shirt didn't have as many wrinkles as she expected and it was neat, she could give him credit for it.

"I'm not on another mission right now, Kay K, I'm exhausted," and the agent knew he was serious, her friend had never had filters with her... outside of missions. In short, one of the benefits of being able to understand Donald Duck when you enter his social circle.

Besides, she was sure that Donald's yawn would have been able to wake up all the people who slept in the mansion if it had been stronger. Yes, he was definitely still the same man after years, and she couldn't help but be touched by that; it was as if time had never passed between them, both being aware of all the changes that had occurred in the life of the other.

It was comforting to Donald, in a way.

"Easy, super agent, this mission is more discreet, this organization is being quieter than it seems."

Well, at least they don't stand out as much unlike The Organization. At least he could rest long enough before the Agency called him to take care of it alongside Kay K, a piece of cake. Nothing he hadn't faced before...

"Have you heard of FOWL?"

Or not?

"Once?" Donald wasn't sure, but he was too exhausted to even try to remember. "I mean, I wasn't born yesterday." He smiled nervously, leaning his elbows against the sink. He was aware that he was not the only agent in the family, and his work as Paperinik had allowed him to become friends with entities that were literally out of this world, but he could not expose such information when he did not fully know the effect that this could have. Jargon of the work "but I thought SHUSH are the ones who primarily take care of them."

"They do, but we can't sit idly by until FOWL decides to act..." Ironically, Kay K crossed her arms, letting the palms of both hands rub against the leather of her jacket despite the scant cold. "Behind the back of the boss I checked cameras..."

Well, that did sound like something Kay K would do. It was not the first time he had learned of the agent's unorthodox methods on and off missions, and it certainly would not be the last.

"... How about they have the fixed point in your family?" Donald's shoulders stiffened, feeling the intense lump that had formed in his throat. From afar Arianne showed him the screen of her cell phone, where a video was played.

In it were frames, each one or several members of his family — including him — on certain adventures. The disturbing thing is that they included moments from his youth with Della, as well as with Panchito and José during their visits to the mansion.

He had been used to all manner of oddities since he crossed the porch of the mansion holding his sister's hand. Damn, a few months ago he had rediscovered alien life, on the moon of all places. Knowing that — very literally — each of his steps was watched from day to day, yet it was extremely chilling.

"Certa— certainly I wouldn't be surprised," he tried to assure, but the doubt in his voice was evident. And Arianne knew it was easy to say as a nephew of an infamous adventurer; but this was not part of what Donald was used to, and added to the mental and physical exhaustion, the agent could think about how stressful this could be.

"Sorry, I should have waited until tomorrow to say it" at least she had the decency to admit it, "but you are my friend, and since this involves you I want you to be cautious."

A worried glow stood out in Kay K's gaze, but despite the smallest duck's tired sigh a bitter smile formed on his face, silently taking his cup and removing the lid to drink the black coffee in his thoughts.

"Okay, just let me get ready enough, then we'll talk," he claimed, wiping the traces of coffee on his beak. At least, the strong taste could keep him awake long enough "but try to go unnoticed, my niblings are too perceptive and curious for my taste."

A grimace had formed on his face as he went to who-knows-where, and the woman couldn't help but snort. Boy, was Donald Duck's family.

But it seemed that an agent's job never ended. Much less for a sleeping agent.

#el's fanfiction #ducktales #ducktales 17 #doubleduck #double duck #donald duck #kay k #pk references #fowl is mentioned #this was written before i knew she betrayed him again #idk where to read the new issues #so yeah #lmao

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