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ghouljams · 5 months

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I just saw a tiktok where the caption was “pov: your situationship just kissed you in the forehead, said ‘I left you a backstrap in the fridge’, and left for work” and the videos is of the woman checking her fridge, seeing a piece of meat, and then looking like she’s reconsidering her whole life. My city slicker suburbs ass didn’t know this but apparently backstrap is the equivalent of beef tenderloin for hunters, each deer/elk has like 1-2 pieces so giving someone a backstrap is downright a marriage proposal.

I have no idea where this would fit into Ghost and Goose's relationship (definitely before they get together officially), or even if it would be (would Ghost hunt?) but all I can think about is Goose staring at the meat on the countertop when Duck walks in and is like "what's wrong?" and Goose just points to the backstrap and goes "Ghost gave me this." And now both of them are staring wordlessly at it when Price comes in and goes "what are you two gawking at?" and they both point at it and say in unison "Ghost left this." and now the whole family is staring at this declaration of undying love on the kitchen counter.

God the backstrap, I've seen that tiktok and that's the most beautiful cut of meat I've ever seen in someone's fridge.

I know I just made a post about Ghost being an animal guy and not hunting like a normal person, but I also think hunting is something he would take a lot of pride in. He likes the survivalist element, but he also likes the feeling of being a provider in a very primitive way. He went out and got food, killed it and butchered it himself, just for his little family. Anyway *throws fic at you*

"Left you somethin' in the fridge," Ghost tells you on his way out for the day. You give him a look of quiet confusion and he tips his hat a little lower over his eyes, not looking at you.

"It's not another frog is it?" You grimace, thinking of the last time you went gigging.

"One frog, one time," He grumbles, not bothering to answer you as he walks towards the stables. You sigh and go to clean up whatever mess he'd left. You wish he'd stop leaving things in the main house's fridge, if he wants to put live animals somewhere he should put them in his own damn house. You shiver remembering the frog you thought was dead leaping at you as soon as you'd opened the fridge door. You're not squeamish with cold blooded critters but that would scare the pants off anyone.

You brace yourself as you tug the communal fridge open. Nothing jumps at you, which is a good sign. You crouch down to sort through the contents for whatever Simon left and freeze. Sitting right in front on the top shelf, neatly covered with cling wrap, and a post it with a hastily scribbled out heart, is the most beautiful cut of meat you've ever seen. Brilliantly red and marbled. You tug it out to inspect, push your finger against the plastic film to check that it's actually meat. There's no fat, and the cut is a lovely sort of tenderloin. Where did Simon...

He went hunting recently. You remember the deer in the back of the truck, the marrow filled bone he'd tossed the dog. Jesus fucking Christ, you know exactly what this is. You quickly stuff it back in the fridge and slam the door to go get your mom.

You both stand in front of the open fridge as she inspects the meat. She stiffens, apparently coming to the same conclusion you did and forces the plate back into your hands.

"What is this boy doin' givin' you the best cuts off his venison?" She asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Momma, I swear to you I don't know," You carefully settle the backstrap back in the fridge. If your brain wasn't so stuck on the fact that Simon is the one who gave it to you, you might be cooking up recipes already.

"Where's your daddy, he needs to see this." She looks out the kitchen window, surveying the pasture for your father's horse. The last thing you need is her calling him in to see Simon's... declaration.

"No momma," You pull her back, "Momma please, you're gonna scare him off."

"I'm not scarin' anyone off, he's-" She gives you a look, her smile scrunched to one side and her brows drawn in confusion, "Baby, you think I'm gonna scare off the man giving you prime cuts from his hunt? Please-" She waves your concern off and you groan. It's not like he's proposing, you doubt Simon even- He probably doesn't even know he's giving you something the butcher won't even sell.

Actually how did he wrestle this away from the butcher? Usually the guy in town will pay through the nose for good venison. You've never seen a cut this clean from the usual guy though.

At least Simon has the good sense not to look startled that you're in his house at the end of the day. There is a sort of silent confusion around your cooking in his tiny kitchen, but he's nice enough to stay quiet as he goes to shower off the day's dirt. When he comes back he's smart enough to take a seat at the little round table, but just stupid enough to ask, "What's this?" When you set a plate in front of him.

"Backstrap," You glare at him, "with some veggies and potatoes. Why? What is it to you?"

Simon glances up at you, waiting for you to elaborate on this line of questioning. You know he doesn't like these games. You sigh and drop down into the seat across from him, he crosses his arms and leans back in his chair.

"Why're you giving me the best cut?" You ask, trying not to sound like you're expecting anything.

"What'm I suppose to do with it?" He responds.

"Didn't the butcher offer to buy it off of ya?"

"Didn't go to the butcher," He tells you evenly. You stare at him. This fucking- God you could wring his neck. He killed a deer, went through the trouble of butchering it himself, and he still gave you the best cut. All the work just to- to-

You press your hands against your face with a groan.

"Ghost."

"Princess." His low rumble makes you shiver, how pleased he sounds to have caught you off guard...

"You know my momma thinks we're gonna get married now," You tell him through your fingers. He hums, and you hear the click of his silverware as he starts eating. Done with the conversation apparently. You truly hate how much you love this man. He's going to be the death of you.

God but what a way to go.

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golswia · 11 months

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My “Aziraphale is a goose, period” era

#good omens #good omens fanart #crowley #aziracrow #aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #ineffable husbands #golswia #golswia art #WELL #Goose or duck #But geese have that threatening aura aziraphale can provide #HAVE U SEEN GOOSE T E E T H #but they are also adorable #so its perfect mix

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jupitercomet · 1 year

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Morning Person

summary - Goose is a morning person. You are not.

warnings - language, talks of sex

word count - 627

I probably shouldn’t post this at butt fuck o’clock, but I am going to anyway because I want to. this is dedicated to @bradshawsbitch my Goose Girlie sister in arms. please enjoy the little intro to college boy, hockey player Goose!

follow the adventures of Goose and Duck in Duck, Duck, Goose!

“Good morning, duck!”

You groan, shoving your pillow over your head as the peace in your dorm room is interrupted.

Goose ignores your current, clear disdain for light, turning on your overhead light and you groan again. “Rise and shine, my radiant little cherub.”

“I specifically picked afternoon classes so that I wouldn’t have to wake up at the asscrack of dawn, Goose.” You turn, squishing your cheek into the pillow, to glare at him.

“I know,” Goose grins widely, his eyes softening at your sleepy features. “But I thought, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I deprived you of my company for the whole morning?”

“Fuck off.”

“Well, since you said it so nicely.” You let out a slightly less frustrated groan as he falls on your mattress, getting comfortable on your twin bed.

For a man who claims to want to wake you up, his hand goes straight to scratching your scalp and you sigh contentedly, snuggling up to his leg and letting your eyes close again. It’s quiet for a moment—too quiet for a room holding Nick Bradshaw—but then he’s shuffling against your headboard as his thumb massages your temple.

“You think Mav and Ice are fuckin’?”

You wrinkle your nose against his thigh. “Why the fuck would you ask me that?”

“Listen, I’ve been theorizing—”

“You’ve been theorizing?”

“Don’t interrupt me, ducky, it’s not nice,” Goose’s finger stretches to tap your nose. “But yes, I’ve been theorizing. Every time we let Mav and Ice privately duke it out in the locker room, they always have their best practice literally the next day. I’m like 86.3% sure they’re fucking.”

You prop your head up on his leg, tapping his hand so he’ll resume massaging your scalp. “Is this what you woke me up at 7 in the morning for? To theorize about your best friend’s sex life?”

“I’m worried about him, it’s not good for a boy his age to go this long being celibate,” Goose sighs deeply, his fingers moving against your hair again.

You fake a gag. “See, these are things about Maverick that I didn’t need to know.”

“But who else would I tell? You’re the person I tell everything to.”

“You know, if we weren’t talking about Maverick getting laid right now,” you let out a yawn, moving to fully cuddle Goose’s right leg. “That would be cute.”

“You’re cute,” Goose grins.

You pat around the bed without responding, refusing to open your eyes. Goose seems to know what you want already, grabbing your hand with his free one. You hum at the feeling of his hand and the weight of his fingers against your scalp. “I’m going back to bed now. Good night.”

“Fine,” Goose sighs wistfully. “But I can’t be held responsible for the sharpie mustache that will inevitably end up on your face. We’ll be twins.”

“I can’t stand you. I hope you trip on the ice tonight and eat shit.”

Goose laughs. “I love when you sweet talk me, duck. Do it some more.”

“Let me sleep!” You whine, stretching out the word pathetically.

The mattress creaks under his weight as he dips down to press a kiss to your lips and you feel him smile against you. “Since I’m the best ever, you get one hour, duck.”

You bury your face in the fabric of his light gray sweatpants with a grumble. Finally, it’s quiet, and with Goose’s fingers massaging your neck and head, you find yourself being lulled back to sleep. Tension seeps from your body as you melt against his thigh, a small smile making its way onto your face as you relax.

“Be honest, do you think I’d look good with a mullet?”

“Goose, for the love of God!”

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#nick bradshaw imagine #nick bradshaw imagines #nick bradshaw x reader #nick bradshaw fluff #nick bradshaw au #goose imagine #goose imagines #goose x reader #goose fluff #goose au #top gun imagines #x reader #duck duck goose #buggy's got a pen

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pink-diamond-and-serenity · 6 months

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OK GUYS HEAR ME OUT

Halsin making a goosetarion out of wood and giving it to astarion

#i mean a goose is basically a little foot shaped duck #he can do this baby he knows the law #astarion #halsin #astarion x halsin #ursa minor #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #cassie hoshting

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ducklooney · 2 months

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It's rare to see Brigitta MacBridge in Dutch comics. Besides, today is Leap Day (February 29th) and to everyone celebrating a happy Leap Day, plus whoever is celebrating a birthday today, happy birthday to all.

However, Brigitta usually appears in Italian comics every time it's a leap day. Unfortunately, I don't know who the author is, but it's definitely from the Dutch version of the Donald Duck comics. Besides, Scrooge and Brigitta are really an underrated couple for me.

If you want to make Leap Day a special day, feel free to like and reblog this! Happy Leap Day!

P.S. Danish comic actually, and this comic cover is Dutch.

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ducktoonsfanart · 28 days

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Donald and his family celebrate Easter - Redraw from my old drawing - Duck comics and Duckverse - Happy Easter!

Happy Easter to everyone! Admittedly, I didn't have time to do some specials related to Easter, although there will be some in the coming period, but for now I did a redraw from my old drawing, only in a better way. Anyway, this is an old text from four years ago when I drew that old drawing: "Here comes that day. Hallelujah! I wish you all a happy Easter! I care that the coronavirus rules, since I’m certainly in isolation, but I won’t let myself celebrate one of the biggest Christian holidays, which is Easter. I know that it is a holiday that has many pagan features and characteristics, but it is certainly not to be forgotten and that it is a holiday dedicated to the Resurrection of Christ. This is as far as the comics themselves and it has nothing to do with Ducktales and this is actually taken from Topolino comics (Italian comics-on Italian “Buona pasqua!”) and I did a bit of my own. Since they are all ducks and geese (Brigitta is a goose), and it would really be a shame to eat real eggs, here are actually colorful eggs, but chocolate eggs. chocolate but decorated eggs. There are also decorations there. I failed to draw everything as far as decoration was concerned. Grandma Duck herself made Easter cakes for Donald’s nephews (Huey, Dewey and Louie), and the nephews themselves are very happy about it. Donald and Daisy are definitely in love with each other and have colored eggs together. What about Scrooge? He is disguised as an Easter Bunny and runs away from Brigitta MacBridge who is howling him. Certainly for the Easter kiss. Certainly one family reunion for that holiday and I wish everyone a Happy Easter! Happy Easter to all who celebrate!"

I mostly drew now differently, but in my own style. My only apologies for the bad background. I hope you like this drawing and I wish everyone a happy Easter and Easter holidays!

If you like it feel free to like or reblog this, but please don't copy these same ideas without mentioning me! Thank you!

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babblingbonnie · 10 months

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PARASOL

CHAPTER ONE: Peculiar Parcel!

when a peculiarly shaped package arrives on Scrooge's desk, he takes some time to reminisce about the day he arrived in Louisville to find that dinky steamboat on the Mississippi river and the ducks that took him in. Albeit one seemingly reluctantly...

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hello - I'm very much in love with 2k17 ducktales as well as the older versions! I wanted to try and merge some of the complete life and times of scrooge mcduck by Don Rosa with 2k17 ducktales because for some reason I adore ducks that also happen to be sailors.

There is a major spoiler warning for 2k17 ducktales season 3 finale, though it came out a few years ago I wanted to add this just to be sure you're aware. This is cross published on Quotev -- I also apologize for any inaccuracies, I really hope you enjoy this silly little story! :-)

CHAPTER ONE: Peculiar Parcel!

A PARCEL HAD FOUND ITS WAY TO SCROOGE'S DESK THAT MORNING. It was long with odd bulges along its surface and seemingly insignificant. It sat, and sat, and sat.....then sat some more.

In fact, the sun was already setting slowly in the foreground behind wide windows by the time Scrooge had actually taken a look at it.

It had been a busy day full of mundane meetings and even more soul-wrenching interviews for a new Board of Director as his old one turned out to be evil.

Figures, with a name like Bradford it was only a matter of time before something mildly evil became of him.

The children were lively as ever, an occasional scream and the sound of something thumping on the ground could be heard outside his office. Shenanigans afoot.

Della's voice seemed to carry throughout the whole manor, and it was assumed that she was an avid player of whatever game the children were participating in as the duck's battle cries rang across the air with promises of multiple darts to whichever body part was exposed if she caught them.

Scrooge had passed Donald in one of the numerous sitting rooms before he had retreated to his study, sharing a few exchanges of words and his one daily comment about his nephews free-loader status.

By the sounds of furious quacking it seems like the rambunctious group had roped the sailor into their chaos.

Scrooge chuckled into his work, cringing ever so often at the sounds of crashing followed by 'oops!' every time, without fail. Usually he would go out there and wave his cane around like a true old man telling dastardly kids to get off his lawn, threatening them that they would be the ones paying for everything with a crack.

But that afternoon paperwork demanded the McDuck's full attention, he couldn't go on any longer without a Board of Director. Mostly because he had taken up the duty himself and he was very much over it. Just because he was willing and able to put in the hard work, doesn't mean he enjoyed it.

The Scottish duck could only hope with all his heart that Beakly or Duckworth would step in and tell his family to STOP BREAKING EVERYTHING.

Trying to push all that, as well as the nagging thought of how much the damages were going to cost, to the back of his head Scrooge hummed a small tune that sounded vaguely familiar.

But he couldn't put a finger on what exactly while he began to hunker down and start reading through words printed in a font size that shouldn't be legal to use.

Something about racecars...lasers...airplanes maybe? It was all a blur, really.

Sifting through the sea of papers, his hand eventually hit the previously mentioned package after a quite violent display of signing a document for the hundredth time. The hand that held a golden ball tipped pen tightly froze midair, a couple inches from the table while Scrooge blinked out of work mode tiredly.

Glancing at the clock that hung just above the study doors it was no wonder why the brutal festivities had died down, leaving the manor deadly silent. It was almost two in the morning.

Had time really passed so quickly? Bah, of course paper work would keep him beyond the hours he could be sleeping.

Tugging the signature black top hat that had suctioned its place on his head from extensive use off his skull, Scrooge flipped it over and placed it beside him on the table before returning all attention towards the brown package that now sat before him.

A hint of confusion mixed with a healthy dose of suspicion took over the duck, after all the richest duck in the world has many enemies and those enemies try all sorts of tricks and schemes. Perhaps it was Flinty sending him some sort of deformed bomb just to inconvenience the McDuck.

Not that it would be the first time. Probably not the last.

Poking the hazard with his pen, the Scottish duck was able to determine it passed the first test of not exploding immediately.

Closing his eyes with a tired sigh, Scrooge almost left the mysterious item alone for a problem to deal with in the morning....well it's already morning. Fine, that afternoon.

That of course, was the original plan before his eyes caught hold of the particular handwriting scribbled on it's rough surface. It was small, almost as small as that blasted font on the multiple resumes he just read.

Slightly shaky, but with beautiful penmanship nonetheless and a unique lettering for the first initial of his name that only one person had ever done for him.

Despite the excitement (one that he would never tell anyone about) that bubbled up through his webbed feet and to his hands, Scrooge jabbed the package one more time in cautious habit before nodding to himself with a confident smile that this was for sure not a bomb.

Sitting back in the chair he had stood from in order to glare at the now-safe package properly, Scrooge sat with his back straight and hands folded in front of him in an attempt to regain a dignified appearance despite no one else being in the room.

It didn't matter anyway, as the next moment consisted of the McDuck leaping forward in his chair and ripping open the wrapped item like a duckling on Christmas morning.

Shredded bits of packaging laid about the table and floor, the now uncovered item placed delicately over a thrashed background of brown and torn paper with paper work thrown about.

A fond smile found its way to Scrooge's bill, running a feathered hand over the top with a ghost of distance between it and his hand.

"Well...Bless me bagpipes."

Scrooge laughed quietly, brushing off some loose dust and strands of fabric that no longer clung to it's original place. The quiet moment felt slow, and moonlight poured in around him like a thin blanket. Specks of dust seemed to shine in the light like diamonds, while the item before him looked like it almost glowed like magic under the light.

The item in question was a vintage parasol -- a white base with beautiful blue lace work over it. Lace that use to be pure white hung along the edges for a couple inches, now a tiny bit darker in coloring due to its age.

Something that Scrooge himself wouldn't have paid more then a few seconds attention to back then, and probably wouldn't now if the duck hadn't happened to know the history behind this specific sun blocker.

A small part of Scrooge couldn't believe that the thing was sitting on his desk right now, he thought it was long forgotten or turned to dust by mere age.

A bigger part of him use to stew in disbelief that his uncle hadn't included the parasol in the inheritance, but he had gotten that years and years ago so this showing up now clued him into the bigger mystery that he was pinning down in his head.

Eyeing the umbrella with a scrutinizing gaze that only an old miser could perfect, Scrooge took mental notes about any rips or snagged lace admonishing the top layers of the parasol with an intention to get it fixed as soon as possible.

During his search of fixable imperfections Scrooge came across a small note on some stiff stock paper that was stuck in one of the folds of the parasol, and the McDuck's interest peaked immediately.

Plucking it from its place, Scrooge took a few moments to adjust his small spectacles that sat snug on his beak and began to scan the card.

'Dear McBrat,

Wasn't sure where to send this to where it would reach you personally. Your mailing system is ridiculous and I want to send a formal complaint but your HR is just as, if not more, preposterous. I'm sure this is by design, but jeez kid it's like you expect bombs in the mail. Ha!

Your aunt wanted this sent to you with Pothole's things, but it got lost due to some sort of events that I couldn't relay to you because I have no idea how it ended up in the Forgotten Brewery Caves. I knew it was hers because of the stitching, I'd recognize that nuisance of a last name anywhere. I'm only sending this because I unfortunately owed one last thing to your uncle.

If you're ever down in Kentucky, come finish that race that old Pothole was too cowardly to finish. You'll win me that Southern mansion.

regrettably,

Porker Hogg.'

The idea that Porker was even still alive shocked Scrooge almost more then anything else described in that letter. He had already finished the race anyway, with the guys nephew.

What's with the information about the parasol being found in the Forgotten Brewery Caves anyway? That was one of the few caves located along the Mississippi, and even then most of it is blocked off.

How was it even lost in the first place, and now that he really thought about it how was it that Porker had found the parasol without packaging as stated in his letter but Scrooge received it in a package with his aunts handwriting?

Immortality for the first problem...maybe time paradox for the second...? Rubbing the bridge of his beak, Scrooge groaned into the open air and let out a deep sigh knowing he would end up checking whatever was happening down there one way or another.

If one thing as important as this was lost, imagine the other heirlooms that could be scattered in some other cave without his knowledge. The idea sent chills down Scrooge's spine.

An almost silent sound of the door being pushed open brought Scrooge out of his deep contemplation, eyes snapping towards the entrance that was now cracked open.

One of the many ducklings that resided in the mansion poked her head through the doorway, curious eyes glinting in the dark while she looked around the room before landing on the older duck.

"Dad...?"

Scrooge straightened at the title, if the McDuck claimed he was use to being called a 'dad' he would be absolutely lying through his teeth.

He didn't detest it, obviously. The duck was more then overjoyed to learn that the duckling in front of him named Webbigail was of his own flesh and blood, but that didn't make the title any more normal to him.

He'd gone through life without any real thought put towards having kids of his own, he never settled down quite enough for that and by the time it was even a feasible idea, he had all his other free time taken over by nephews and nieces and other family members.

"What're yew doing out of bed, Webby?"

Scrooge pushed on through his slight dilemma of the title that was bestowed upon him only a couple months ago.

"I was just thirsty, but now I'm thirsty for whatever you've got on your desk!"

Webby gasped, having noticed the blue umbrella that her dad placed a hand over. Scrooge smiled in response, lifting the laced parasol with both hands under it, making sure it was secure before shuffling over to Webby who bounced around on her feet.

It was an ongoing mystery to how she had any amount of energy this early in the morning, and Scrooge was sure he'd never truly find out.

"Now...careful dear, this is my Aunt (Y/n)'s beloved parasol. Technically I own it, she never did pay me back."

Scrooge mused, the last bit of the sentence hushed under his breath while he counted up the combined interest of what he should of been paid by now. Not that he ever forgot, every year he counted up what his aunt and others owed him. Like his uncle Jake who owes $8362 of accumulated interest.

"Aunt (Y/n)," Webby repeated quickly, excitedly looking over the parasol "Pothole McDuck's wife! Originally daughter of Blackheart Beagle, but after she married she took the McDuck name! She saved you and Angus during a steamboat race against Blackheart and the Beagles."

"Aye, she did. She jumped into the muddy Mississippi just for me dime too."

Scrooge added onto the list of facts that Webby was enthusiastically reciting from memory. Letting his shoulders relax as the duckling with messy white hair took the parasol from his hands and held it delicately in her own.

Reaching into his coat Scrooge pulled out the familiar dime that hung around his neck 24/7 while talking about the experience.

"Thought she might not come back up after she went headfirst in," Scrooge murmured, the vague feeling of terrified desperation that his younger self had been frozen in was crawling up his neck as he turned the dime over in his feathered hands.

It's face was a bit rough but that would be expected for how long Scrooge has kept it. The fact that it was still shiny and readable was a miracle.

Holding it in front of him the older duck briefly thought over just how much panic he went through when the dime had rolled off the edge of the boat all those years ago.

"Both my uncle Pothole and I couldn't believe it, but she managed to grab it in time and then single handedly stopped 'em from throwing us over!"

"Wow, she sounds so cool! I've been wanting to learn more about aunt (Y/n) and uncle Pothole - I mean I know they lived in Louisville for awhile and Pothole sold his steamboat to you but I couldn't find anything about the actual race itself-- ...."

Webby trailed off, noticing the cane wielding duck was only half-heartedly listening.

Gazing at the shiny silver coin, Scrooge let a fond expression take over his features before moving the dime out of view to focus on his daughters face again, noticing her abrupt silence.

She was watching him closely, hugging the parasol closer in an upright position and probably wondering where Scrooge had just gone to in his memories.

A hopeful grin tugged at the corners of Webby's beak, having recognized the mood that her father was in. A story telling one.

She quickly grabbed his hand, rushing them both back to Scrooge's desk without any warning. Webby always knew when the billionaire was stuck in reminiscing something that had happened years and years ago in his oh-so daring life, a telltale sign being when Scrooge had his eyes glued to his number one dime.

A piercing but glazed over gaze, when ranges of emotion from sadness and happiness and everything in between suddenly became very apparent on his face.

"Tell me everything," Webby all but squealed, a dash of wonder sprinkled her eyes and wide smile.

Almost shoving her father back into his large lounge chair, Webby plopped the parasol down before scrambling after it onto the desk. Completely oblivious to the previously important paperwork that was now rather unimportantly laying on the ground.

Chuckling nervously at just how much joy seeped through Webby's small body at potential McDuck information, Scrooge took a few moments to get comfortable in his chair.

It was moments like these that the small girl loved, moments that were few and far between where she would spot Scrooge staring ahead (usually at his dime,) but in his head he was far away. She would practically corner her dad and lovingly ask (force) him to tell her about whatever memory he was thinking about.

Moments when it was just her and Scrooge.

"Well, what do ye want to know, lassie?" Scrooge asked slowly, stuffing the precious dime down his red coat.

Placing his cane on the ground so it leaned on the chair, the McDuck reached out over the edge of the desk and grabbed Webby by the armpits and dangled her in the air like a wet cat for a few moments before placing her on his knee with an expectant stare.

"Everything! Tell me everything -- oh oh! How'd you meet them? Were they nice-? How about every single detail about the race, how did you guys find the treasure in such muddy water-?! Uhm- also what about the parasol? How'd aunt (Y/n) get it -- what was she like? Why did she jump into perilous waters for your dime? Was uncle Pothole really a writer? Is he as stingy as other McDucks? How did he know the location of the Drennan Whyte? Did he really sell his steam boat to you at a cheap price?!"

Webby rambled on, intense hand motions flaring everywhere while squirming in Scrooge's lap.

"Well-!"

"And who's Porker Hogg?!"

Scrooge stared down at the duckling bewildered, not because he was cut off nor was it from all the overwhelming questions. He was far use to that, it was mostly because she mentioned Hogg. He wasn't aware Webby even knew vaguely the name, let alone the guy.

The white feathered duckling in his lap craned her neck slightly to look up at him, blinking a couple times before pointing behind her at the somewhat crumpled letter Scrooge found in the parasol that sure enough had Hogg's dastardly name signed at the bottom.

Forming his beak into a slight 'o' shape, the older duck nodded in understanding.

Clearing his throat after a couple seconds had passed by of more winded questions, Webby stopped short and excitedly began to shake about a bit in her seated position.

She looked like she was going to burst at the seams with more questions if Scrooge didn't start talking now. So he did, placing a comforting hand behind his daughters shoulder as a support while she leaned into his side.

Scrooge let her settle down a little more before he used his other arm to spread out as far as it would go, pointing to a slightly large round oak picture frame that held the image of two white feathered ducks on the wall, just to the left of his parents grand photo.

One duck, the taller and gruffer looking one, had a scruffy white beard under his beak with eyes that looked permanently grumpy, much like his fathers stern face in the aforementioned picture next to this one.

A long wooden tobacco pipe was held between his beak, and a sailor outfit adorned his body. A bright blue sailor's captain hat sat perfectly on his head, tuffs of short feathered hair poked out slightly.

The boatman had an arm in a bent position, having offered it to the other duck in the photo who had her dainty arms wrapped tenderly around his. She had a large giddy smile and kind eyes, long lashes curled a bit above them.

Her hair was short and a little wild, and she wore a short sleeved blue collared dress that was buttoned up on the right. A blue lace parasol was held tight in her hand, casting a shadow above her in protection from the sun that beat down that day.

Both ducks were facing a little tilted from the camera in a candid sort of way as if just having noticed the camera during a normal walk, and despite the gloomy attitude of the sailor, Scrooge knew he absolutely adored the woman next to him more then anyone else.

His uncle Pothole was happiest with (Y/n)…and maybe a little money here and there that he horded. Mainly aunt (Y/n).

Webby followed Scrooge's hand all the way to the photo, beaming as she noticed who it depicted.

"Let's start with meeting my uncle Pothole and aunt (Y/n), eh?" Scrooge began, restating their names as if introducing characters in a book.

A playful tone went along with his words and he leaned forwards slightly again to fondly touch the parasol one last time before diving into retelling the long and daring adventure of childhood memories.

Tilting backwards, the old miser thought for a bit before opening his mouth. Webby sat impatiently by his side, fidgeting with her hands as she anxiously waited.

"It all started when I got a job as a cabin boy on a cattle ship from Glasgow, heading to New Orleans."

Scrooge spoke, and with each word Webby saw her father become more and more sucked into the past. Starting to truly relive past events, and the white feathered duck swore he could smell the ocean salt that wafted in the wind while he stood on the deck of the boat.

He was suddenly there, transported to the stylish streets of New Orleans and feeling the murky river water of the Mississippi that he travelled up. Hearing the constant chatter and buzz of enthusiasm upon reaching the dock in Louisville, Kentucky.

He made sure to tell Webby just how marvelous the gala he had docked on was, how the air tasted of fortunes being made. How exciting the view of this bustling town meant to him.

Scrooge chuckled, recalling his wonderment for the whole event that never really did stop phasing him. Glancing down, the duckling that was stuck between his side and the firm armrest could bearly contain her excitement any longer, and Scrooge knew he should probably get on with the tale.

"Quite a sight for a penniless lad from Glasgow, but I still needed to find my uncle."

END . next chapter: Bet on Drennan Whyte!

note

I'm going to be changing around certain aspects of each story to try and fit, so this is very much canon-divergence in both universes. Keep in mind, some parts about reader are already predetermined but other things are customizable!

Thank you so much for reading, I have no idea how to tag things :)

#dt17 scrooge #dt17 webby #angus 'pothole' mcduck #porker hogg #ducktales 2017 #the life and times of scrooge mcduck #ducktales x reader #reader is a anthropomorphic duck #a silly goose if you will #more like a silly duck more accurately #Ducktales Parasol #female reader

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ticklishcicada · 2 years

Photo

https://ko-fi.com/ticklishcicada

I made a freakin kofi if u wana donate or wana commision a super quick $5 doodle lol

#give me your money #clack #Cloud x Zack #AerTi #aerith x tifa #duck doodles #goose doodle #ff7 #final fantasy vii

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marschocobarsreal · 6 months

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LILITH X PURALOS EDIT!!

#duckduckwiggle #duckduckgoose #duck duck goose #duck duck wiggle #Lilith x Puralos

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baby-meringue · 1 year

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here's some ship scenarios cuz why not- (THESE WERE COPIED FROM VARIOUS OTP PROMPT GENERATORS) (SUGGESTIVE WARNING FOR SOME OF THE SCENARIOS) GUIDE OF WHERE THE CHARACTERS ARE FROM: mcsquizzy - open season tuesday - uglydolls professor marmalade - the bad guys cuddles - the bad guys master shifu - kung fu panda chickenhare - chickenhare and the hamster of darkness meg - chickenhare and the hamster of darkness rusty - chickenhare and the hamster of darkness mr wolf - the bad guys diane foxington - the bad guys carl - duck duck goose pb - dc league of super pets chip - dc league of super pets maddie - back to the outback pretty boy - back to the outback jimbo - paws of fury: the legend of hank lulu - dc league of super pets pop - trivia crack tito - trivia crack al - trivia crack tina - trivia crack aaaand (y/n) is you, the reader! - mcsquizzy helping tuesday dry and brush their hair after a shower. - professor marmalade giving cuddles a tight hug that makes them lose their breath. - (y/n) spreads out master shifu's legs as he rubs his thighs. This causes master shifu to get all blushy and let out quiet moans. - chickenhare falling asleep during the car ride home and (y/n) carrying them into the house. - (y/n) holding meg's hands when they are shaking - rusty and (y/n) having a tickle fight until they're breathless - mcsquizzy and (y/n) driving in heavy rain. It’s getting hard to see anything, so they pull over and find a covered picnic area to wait out the storm. They talk until it’s safe to drive again, and find out loads of new things about each other. - mr wolf goes up to diane and grabs them into the air and spins them around, diane asks what they are doing and mr wolf responds with, “I just realized I love you, and it feels amazing.” - carl crossdresses for baby-meringue - (y/n) comes home to find professor marmalade lying on the bed seductively, wearing a lacy bra, silk stockings, and silk panties. - pb helping chip undress - chip puts on their best lingerie to seduce (y/n) - maddie having to rescue pretty boy from a pack of kittens/puppies. - pretty boy participating in (y/n)'s hobby even if it doesn't personally interest them - (y/n) and jimbo carrying around balloons so they don't get lost in the crowd - (y/n) burns their tongue on something hot, lulu kisses it better - pop hogs all the blankets and tito gets cold so they cling tightly to pop for warmth - al gets the hiccups, causing tina to laugh every time they try to talk until tina gets the hiccups too hope u like it!! have a happy valentine's day with these!!!! all rights belong to sony pictures animation, columbia pictures, stx entertainment, alibaba pictures, dreamworks, aaron blabey, universal pictures, paramount, netflix, sony pictures, nwave pictures, original force, warner animation group, dc, seven bucks productions, warner bros., reel fx, weed road pictures, nickelodeon, aniventure, gfm animation, cinesite, and etermax *wipes the sweat off of my face* phew!!

#open season #uglydolls #the bad guys #kung fu panda #chickenhare and the hamster of darkness #duck duck goose #dc league of super pets #back to the outback #paws of fury the legend of hank #trivia crack #ship scenarios #x reader #valentine's day 2023 #love

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shifus-real-soulmate · 11 months

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if they met, i imagine these two blonde rodent bfs fighting over me

READ MY DNI BEFORE PROCEEDING

#duck duck goose carl #duck duck goose movie #duck duck goose #carl #carl the squirrel #carl x myself #the bad guys #professor marmalade #professor rupert marmalade iv #professor marmalade x myself #marmalade x myself #love triangle #f/o community #f/o gush #furry f/o #animated f/os

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ghouljams · 4 months

Note

Price comes off as the type of husband who no matter if it's kid number 1 or kid number 4 he's always overprepared. He'll phone in shit for himself, but his family? Hell no 110% for them always. He's spending the weeks leading up to child birth getting your post op care kit put together, even making 4 or 6 weeks worth of padsicles (frozen aloë vera soaked pads). Like you swear he's nesting worse then you are.

You're not worried because you have John he's already written down what you want for your birth and you can bet your ass he's advocating for you especially when a nurse gets a bit too pushy about things he knew you didn't want. He might've even hired a Doula who could talk through the things he doesn't understand.

If you had to have a c section he was already prepared for that making sure the fridge is packed with ice packs and calling for extra hands to help (with the house and extra chores, like farm work. he'll take care of the wife and babe) he'll be by your side for the months it takes to recover. This man will make sure that the postpartum care he gives you is just as good as the prenatal care. He is up with the babe at night even if you're breastfeeding getting you back to sleep quickly while he just gently rocks baby Price to sleep make sure they're happy before he'll crawl back into bed with you.

-Hot Mess Rambler

(He just comes off as a guy who wants to make sure bad labor/recovery isn't the reason you don't have more kids especially if you wanted a big family)

God, you're so right. Price is a family man, and I firmly believe that. There's a universe where Price leaves the service after Goose is born, and she ends up with 4 extra siblings.

There's a lovely little pocket universe where Price is only home long enough to be there for the birth of his baby girl before he's deployed and he can't handle it. He can't handle not being there for you, wondering if you're handling the post-partum well, if the baby is alright, if you have the support you need. It kills him not being able to call you, not being able to see you. He misses so much, and it makes the military feel hollow. He thought this was what he wanted, the job he wanted, but not if it means missing the chance to be a father.

When he gets home his baby is so much bigger, she's eating baby food, she's smiling and grabbing for things. And you tell him it's alright, that he didn't miss the important things, didn't miss any of the firsts, but you have bags under your eyes. You're quieter, the house is messy, there's take away in the fridge. It's not how it should be, you're not taken care of like you should be. So he doesn't renew his contract. He leaves and he doesn't look back. You're in medical school, you're stressed enough. He stays home with the baby, and looks after things while you get back on your feet.

It's not the life he thought he'd have, but it's better in all the right ways. He's there for his baby's first steps, for her first word. He's there when you hold up a second positive pregnancy test and tearfully tell him you don't know if you can do it again. He reads every book, he talks to every expert, he prepares for everything, but he can never handle your tears or his own short comings. He can only promise that this time will be different, and that he truly isn't going anywhere ever again.

So you decide to have another baby, and Price makes up for everything he missed. He nests more than you do, he keeps Goose entertained, he takes over your prenatal care, he preps for the postnatal stuff. You have your baby with the utmost certainty that nothing will go wrong, and that even if something does at least Price will be there to fix it. You graduate medical school with a husband and two babies in the audience. Your little flat feels smaller with four people in it. Price suggests looking for residencies near your parents for the extra help, and you can't think of any reason not to.

So you move back to Texas. You wrangle a toddler and a baby onto a plane, you ship all your meager belongings, and you find yourself back on the farm with a lucrative position at the nearest hospital. And Price finds himself, once again, in a life he never imagined for himself. He discovers his toddler has an affinity for horses, he finds out his baby tries to eat worms, he realizes he wants a million more of these little things when their laughter fills the big old farmhouse. He realizes there's something special to coming in from a long day on the farm and seeing you passed out on the couch with two little girls cuddled against your chest.

He never misses the military. At least never more than he missed you in those months away. He goes to dance recitals, and 4H shows. He teaches a gaggle of kids how to shoot, how to ride a horse, how to rope cattle. He's never misses anything, he's never not there. He picks up five little Prices from soccer practice and realizes he's never been happier than he is sitting outside the hospital with your pack, waiting for the end of your shift.

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miss-mossball · 2 years

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more Paris! and Roulette too <3

#paris the guitar #doodle heaven #roulette mallard #rou's amazing ocs #my ocs #roulette x paris #parilette #what was their tag its not showing up D:#weh #i did not need to go off on that back there #fabric who??? only back...#the best way to describe their relationship is that its a duck x a goose

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jupitercomet · 1 year

Text

Love You for Real

summary - You get drunk and Goose learns about horse breeds. And your thoughts on The Truman Show.

warnings - language, mentions of drinking, a lil Mav slander but I think it’s funny so it’s fine, like one sex joke

this blog is 18+, minors please do not interact

word count - 1.3k

follow the adventures of Goose and Duck in Duck, Duck, Goose!

“Oh goodness, you reek,” Goose makes a show of waving his hand in front of his nose. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Do I really?” You look up at him, tears accumulating in your glazed eyes as you pitifully attempt to smell your own breath.

Goose’s face drops when your lip starts wobbling and he lets out a whispered curse when he realizes he’s miscalculated how drunk you are. You’re in your sensitive stage. Scrambling forward, he pulls you into a hug. “I’m just kiddin’. I’m just kiddin’, ducky. You smell so good. You smell like roses— No, a whole garden! You don’t smell like a frat house on Halloween weekend, not at all.”

“Oh, okay,” you perk up a bit and Goose sighs in relief, moving to an empty couch and settling you on his lap.

You don’t fight him—yet another thing Goose is relieved about, there have been a few times he’s had to throw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes to stop you from drinking your body weight in alcohol. Instead, you slump against him, resting your head against his shoulder as you watch the rest of the party with hazy eyes.

The team was celebrating a big win that happened to coincide with your psychology midterm, so Goose opted not to get drunk to grant you the opportunity to fully let loose. And, given the fact he’s had to track you down no less than five times tonight, you clearly took it.

“Were you ever obsessed with an animal as a kid?”

“Hmm?” Goose looks down to see that you’ve started playing with his fingers, still watching the party.

“Like,” you wet your lips, your speech slurred. “I was obsessed with horses. If I saw a horse, I could tell you what breed it was and— Wait! Find a horse, Goose! I’ll prove it!”

Goose can’t help but let out a confused laugh as you jostle around on his lap excitedly. “Where am I gonna— I don’t have a horse, duck.”

“Oh,” you pout, deflating.

“How ‘bout this?” Goose rests his lips against your temple, letting them brush against your skin as he speaks. “How ‘bout you just tell me about your favorite kinds of horses?”

Again you seem to bounce back to life, beginning to list your favorite horse breeds on his fingers—which Goose thinks is a little funny. “Well, there’s Appaloosas. They have spots all over their ass. Some of them are covered in spots, but I knew one who was gray and he only had spots on his butt. They’re so cute, Goose.”

Goose sneaks his hand between the two of you so he can scratch your back. It’s something he knows makes you sleepy and he’s hoping to tucker you out before you catch a second wind.

“There’s Thoroughbreds,” you continue with a yawn. “They’re basically just brown, but a lot of the best racehorses are Thoroughbreds… I think Slider would be a Thoroughbred.”

“Oh, yeah?” Goose grins. “What about Iceman? What horse would he be?”

“I think he’d be a Friesian,” you decide.

Goose doesn’t know what a Friesian looks like, but he decides you’re right anyway. “Why’s that, ducky?”

“They have pretty manes.”

“Right, of course,” Goose nods along knowingly, his hand traveling up to scratch at the back of your head. “Ooh! What about Mav?”

You don’t even have to think. “He’s a pony.”

Goose can’t stop himself from laughing, tightening his grip on you so you don’t fall as he doubles forward. “Oh, that’s too fuckin’ good! But just a pony, ducky? You don’t got a breed or nothing?”

“I know about horses, Goose, not ponies,” you make a face and Goose smiles at you endearingly, kissing you temple.

“No, you’re right. That’s a very important distinction,” Goose amends. “Okay, we got Sli, Ice, and Mav... What about me, honey? What horse would I be?”

You turn in his lap so that you're facing him fully, your legs on either side of his hips, and look him in the eye resolutely. “You’d be a white Arabian with little, brown dots.”

“Well, that’s specific,” Goose raises his brows slightly.

“That’s because they’re my favorite.” You smile, reaching up to cup his cheeks and squish them together. “So you’d be my horse and I’d keep you at a barn and come to visit you all the time. And I’d ride you every day—”

“I don’t think you’re fully hearin’ all the words you’re saying, honey.”

“—And I’d pick your hooves so you never got rocks in ‘em. And I’d brush you, and feed you lots of carrots and apples. And… and I’d get you those horse blankets and fly masks. And all the other horses would be jealous because I’d take such good care of you, because I love you soo much!” You’re giggling and Goose can’t help but melt at the sound, pulling you closer onto his lap.

“Carrots and apples? You spoil me, ducky,” he teases, though it comes out muffled through his puckered lips.

You drop Goose’s cheeks suddenly, mumbling something that sounds an awful lot like “Prettiest horsie” before relaxing on his chest with another yawn.

It’s quiet for a moment and Goose takes the opportunity to simply stare at you, taking in your features under the dimmer lights of the house party you’re at. Sometimes he finds himself wondering how he got lucky enough to be the person you ramble about horse breeds to, but he’s grateful for it every day.

“Would you tell me if this were The Truman Show?”

“What?” There’s a lilt of amusement in Goose’s voice as you draw his attention back to you.

“If I was Jim Carrey and my whole life was a TV show, would you tell me?” You roll your neck up to look at him. “Because that would make you an actor and we’d be, like, fake… And that’s really fucked up.”

Goose caresses the back of your head, coaxing you to relax your neck again. “Yeah, duck, I’d tell you if this were The Truman Show.”

“You promise?” You hold your pinky up.

“I promise.” Goose wraps his pinky around yours, and then he teases, “Would you tell me if my life were The Truman Show?”

“Of course, I would!” Your eyes widen earnestly. “I’d tell you— I’d tell you the second I saw you. Cross my heart and hope to die! But…” You trail off.

“But what, ducky?” Goose goes back to gently scratching your back.

You look at him decidedly. “But, even if I were an actress in The Goose Show, I’d love you for real.”

Something cinches in Goose’s heart. It’s almost painful how utterly soft and cherished you make him feel. He peppers your face with kisses until his own smile makes it impossible to continue and then bites one of your cheeks gently.

“I’d love you for real too, honey.”

“Okay!” You smile. “Then I wouldn’t care if I was in The Truman Show. As long as you’re real.” You relax back onto Goose’s chest and he wonders if, through your drunken haze, you have any idea just how sweet you’re being. He doesn’t even mind the fact that you’re going to be drooling all over his favorite sweatshirt in a few minutes.

“Oh,” you perk up suddenly with a bleary blink. “I gotta end the episode.” You turn your cheek against his chest, like you’re about to talk to someone and Goose has to hold back a laugh at the fact that no one’s there. “Good morning, and in case I don't see ya, good afternoon, good evening, and good night!” And then you promptly fall asleep.

It’s not long before Goose feels you drooling on him and all he can think is that he’s really, really lucky.

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