#Beakley is shaking her head

[aaandbackstabbed]

Scrooge: Goldie is my wife and i love her. No matter how many times I’m charged as an accessory

[drawingducktalesducks]

ooooh i wrote a thing, aaah here it is. weblena. au. slice of life, humor, slight angst, thought exercise, what-if, same rating as show

There are no Terrafermians in the subway.

(not that that'll stop them)

The tunnel doesn’t collapse. Beakley never fidgets with her glasses, adjusting them like a TV antennae as if that would change the image of Lena, quintessential sullen teen, helpfully applying a crowbar to the train cars’ stuck pin.

This just before the train crash.

Before the unconsciousness, the feeling of being dragged across a rough stone floor.

Before Beakly wakes up to see Lena’s wide, terrified eyes, and feel hands yank her out from under the falling train car not a second too soon.

"You-?" "Yeah- me. Let's go."

There’s no moment of tearful reuniting with Webby, the boys, and Launchpad. No anxious voice in the dark, Lena’s voice, checking in-

"Everyone here, everyone okay-?"   

There are no Terrafermians in the subway.

There is no moment of Beakley inviting Webby's new friend over for pancakes.

Instead, there's only a slow trudge up out of the tunnels, and the grim look on Beakley’s face as she marches them all back onto the street.

-

“Granny-”

"No."

"Granny, just listen!"

Webby starts again, journal of theories forgotten in her hands, grip so tight the binding squeaks in protest.

“You don’t understand! Lena’s a good person- she just LOOKS like a mysterious, enticing, rebellious teen ne’er-do-well with a love of trespassing and vandalism! Which she is, actually."

Webby admits with a thoughtful head tilt.

"And she does. Do that. She did it just a second ago, to prank Huey with me, and it was really funny!" Beakley's scowl deeps and Webby hurries on. "But she's also-!”

“First the Beagle Boys birthday,” Beakley mutters, steering Webby on with a firm hand. “You insisted that was an accident and that she never intended to put you in harm’s way.”

“She didn’t! She-”

“And I was almost willing to believe it. Almost."

Beakley storms down the sidewalk, sensible low heels clacking on the pavement with a sound so sharp it should've been sending up sparks.

"After all, what teen hasn’t done something immensely foolish to impress someone else, only to regret it afterwards? Likewise, lying about the ‘educational’ Mole Monster film. Mostly harmless, if irritatingly irresponsible. But this.”

The hand on Webby’s shoulder tightens.

“This goes too far. She knew entering that tunnel could put all three of you in danger. There were warning signs everywhere, and yet she led you down there regardless! No, I'm sorry." Beakely shakes her head, glowering behind her square framed glasses. "That girl does NOT have your best interests at heart.”

Currently Webby’s heart is pounding in her chest. “I’ve been in worse danger before! Much, much worse!”

“Only with myself or Mr. McDuck supervising you.”

“I had Lena with me!”

Beakley snorts. “Oh yes, how reassuring. I’m sure she would have done everything in her power to keep you safe, and not run off to save her own skin. Again.”

At that the boys trailing behind them finally speak up.

“I mean to be fair, it was us she wanted to feed to the Tumblebums that one time, not Webby.”

“Yeah, her and Webby were supposed to slip off together while we got traumatized. Then my dear brothers decided to use me as bait instead, which, I feel, is obviously worse-"

“She just wanted to stop us arguing!”

Huey’s feet patter as he hurries to catch up.

“It’s my fault too, for getting all worked up and angry over some made up subterranean monsters- that’s why she got the idea of going down there in the first place! She was trying to help!”

“By putting you all in danger, as opposed to debating the issue safely above ground, obviously.” Beakley remarks dryly.

“And and AND!” Webby jumps in craning to peer pleadingly up at her grandmother. “We could’ve said no! She wasn’t going to force us down there or anything!”

“Well.” Huey hedges, hunching down, awkwardly honest. “She did throw my guidebook down the stairs…”

Webby stamps on his insole. Huey yelps.

Ducking out from under the protective hand of her grandmother Webby turns to face Beakley, forcing them all to a stop.

“Granny, please.”

Somewhere nearby there’s the sound of four people knocking into each other and tumbling to the sidewalk.

Webby ignores it. Taking a deep breath she says, softly. “...She’s my best friend.”

Bentina Beakley looks down at her, posture tired, eyes sad.

She sighs.

“… no, Webbigail. Not anymore.”

And the whole world falls out from under Webby’s feet.

“Yes she- yes she is!” Stammering, Webby tries to hear herself over the thundering in her chest. “She is and nothing you say is going to change that! Right Lena!?”

No one answers.

Webby looks around. “Lena?”

Launchpad, Huey, Louie, and Dewy stare back at her from under a nearby street lamp. The shadows around them are empty. No one else is there.

Lena is gone.

“Good riddance,” Beakley says, her hand settling back on Webby’s shoulder. “You are not to see her again, even if she does reappear, understand? You four are all good children with bright futures ahead of you-”

“Five, missus B.”

Beakley rolls her eyes. “Yes alright Launchpad, you five. The last sort of friend any of you need is someone like that.”

Weak-kneed, the weight of her Granny’s hand makes Webby sag.

Someone like that. Someone like that…

The words echo the rest of the way to the car and all through the long, silent drive back home.

It continues as they trudge through the double doors of McDuck manor, as Beakely hesitates on the landing outside the library and Webby's room, as Webby walks past her to brush her beak and heads back to the loft, quietly shutting the trap door behind her.  

Webby doesn't sleep.

Later, long after her Granny has given up on patrols for the night, a climbing rope dangles its way down from Webby’s window.

Webby has somewhere to be.

Tonight, she has something more important to think about than her Granny’s rules.

Rushed tracks lead down the sandy beach towards a set of stepping stones, and a derelict, empty stage....

-

This time Webby leaps the stones with a single long jump.

"Lena, are you here?!"

Frantic, she doesn’t even bother with a summersault as she thumps down on the moldering floorboards, eyes darting hopefully at every shadow.  

“Lena? Lena!”

The cavernous stands make her already loud voice even louder. Webby waits one breathless moment, then rushes on.

“Please be here, please be here, I don’t know where else to look for you if you’re not here!”

Blurring across the stage Webby yanks back the tattered curtain and races behind the leaning and broken stone columns, checking every corner, chanting all the while.

“And also please please don’t be mad! I’m sorry I didn’t say more to my Granny, and sooner, and better. But most of all please be here! Please?”  

There’s no one behind the curtain or columns. No sounds answer her, except her own panicked voice.

Slowly, Webby comes to a stop at the edge of the stage.

“…Lena?”

'Lena?' echoes back the amphitheater, hollow and abandoned.

She stands there a long time. Listening. But just like on the playground, and just like on the street that night, the dark corners of the world stay empty.

And Lena doesn’t answer.  

Knees wobble. Webby sits down hard on the old theater floorboards.

“Oh.” Pulling her legs up to her chest she tucks her bill against them, eyes filling as she starts rocking herself slowly back and forth, back and forth. “Okay. Okay. You’re not here right now. That’s okay.”

Lena doesn’t answer.

Webby shudders. “No. It’s not okay.” The tears spills over. “It’s not okay. It’s not okay.”

She blinks hard, still staring out into the stands.

“You- you didn’t even wait to hear me tell Granny she’s wrong about you.”

A whimper.

“We didn’t even get, to say goodbye…”

Burying her head in her knees, Webby wraps her arms around her head and squeezes tight, shuddering.

And behind her, a trap door opens.

The hinges of the mechanism make no sound, well-kept and carefully oiled into silence, and the figure that trudges up the steps also moves with practiced sneakiness, even with her arms full of ropes and bent-over pieces of rusty old piping.

Lena stops on the last step, bright green converse pausing mid-air, expression surprised.

Then she frowns.

“Uh, Pink? You okay?”

Vehemently Webby shakes her head without looking up.

“Okay? No! I’m n-not okay! Granny thinks my best friend is a ‘bad influence’, banned you from the manor, and won’t let me out unsupervised anymore! And and and-”

Her breath catches with a sob on every ‘and’.

“I never got your address or phone number or had time to surveil you, or plant a tracker, so the only place I know you like is the place we met- but you’re not here! And now,” she chokes, “now Granny says I'm not supposed to see you again and worse I don't know how to find you so I’m REALLY never going to see you again….”

Lena’s eyebrows skyrocket into her side-brushed bangs, then drop down like dark and moody thunderbolts.

“Are you kidding me?” she groans, “Ugh, what is with her!”

Slumping over, Lena dumps her armful of supplies and drops herself next to Webby on the stage, shoulders falling into a brooding slouch.

“I mean, I get that Tea Time doesn’t like me, but I didn’t think she’d try putting you on lockdown over it.”

Fabric rustles as Webby nods into her skirt. “I know. She’s a- a little overprotective.”  

“A little?” Lena seethes.

Webby giggles. “Maybe a lot.” Sitting up with a sniff she scrubs her eyes on her sleeve. “She means well and I don’t want to break rules, it just hurts so much, and I miss you and… Wait, Lena!?”

Beak dropping open Webby whirls around, gaping.

Lena smiles back at her.

“Hey.”

And in an instant, Webby’s eyes are full of tears again.

“Lena!”

Launching herself forward Webby has Lena wrapped in her arms a split second before the tackle sends them slamming to the floor.

An ‘oof’ of air burst from Lena, thanks to the hug or the impact or both. Face half covered with Webby’s hair she grimaces up at the night sky.

“Wow great, missed you too.” It comes out as a wheeze. Having the air knocked out of you is a good excuse for being breathless. “Th-thing is, I’m really not much of a hugger…”

“Oh!”

Jolting upright Webby holds her arms out wide, as if they were dangerous weapons that could kill with a touch. Which they were.

“Right! Hugs are like whatever, or whatever- But you’re here!”

Pulling her arms in Webby hugged herself tightly and did a happy little wiggle as Lena sits up again.

“Even though it’s the middle of the night, you’re here! Were you waiting this whole time? Is that rope? And a crowbar!?” Every observation brought on a new level of excitement and new intensity of the wiggles.

Lena grins. “Yep. It’s rope and nah, I haven’t been here the whole time, had to go get some stuff. Like rope. Aaand a crowbar. Then I figured, hey, this sort of thing is way easier when it’s dark out anyway, you know?”

Jumping to her feet Webby pumps her fist in the air triumphantly.

“Yes! No! I have no idea what you’re talking about! What thing?”

Leaning an elbow on one knee Lena props her cheek on her fist and watches Webby, grin softening.

“Like, climbing over big fancy gates and up mansion walls to see my best friend, and stuff.”

Webby gasps. “You were going to break into the manor for me?”

“Well, try anyway.” Oversized, off-shoulder sweater slips a little further down as Lena shrugs. “Parkouring up walls isn’t really my thing, not everyone’s an amazing awesome acrobat like you, Pink, but eh. Girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”

“Oh.”

Webby bites her bill, happy look fading into something hesitant.

“…to see your friend?” she echoes back cautiously.

Lena raises an eyebrow. “Uh yeah, duh? What, you thought I was just gonna-” a finger snap and a vague flutter of Lena’s free hand indicates the deepening gloom of night. “Ka-pwsh out of there and be bored without you for the rest of my life?”    

Webby winces. “I guess? A little?” Her hand burrow into her skirt, grip crinkling the neatly ironed pleats.

“I thought… I thought you were angry at me. For not standing up to Granny better, about you.”

Both Lena’s eyebrows shoot up this time. “She’s your grandma, Webby, what’re you gonna do? Send her to time-out?”

Webby smiles weakly. “Heh.”

“I’m pissed at her, not you. And.” Leaning in, Lena makes a show of hiding her beak from non-existent observers in the empty stands. “To be honest she’s not even wrong. I’m a VERY bad influence.”

Hands relaxing, Webby smile comes back with a twinkling in her eyes.

“No you’re not. You look all cool and smooth on the outside, but you’re all soft and gooey on the inside. You’re the best.”

Lena snickers, lounging to her feet. “Sure, and you broke rules just to come looking for me. I’m sure Colonel Crumpet wouldn’t blame that on bad influence at all.” She holds up a hand, palm out. “Who’s the rebel now?

Webby high-fives her with a laugh and doesn’t let go.

“Me! I’m a rebel now!” Gleeful laugh turns into a nervous giggle as she swings her and Lena’s hands between them. “Oh Granny’s going to be SO MAD when she finds out….”

“Who’s gonna tell her?”

“Also me, probably. Or maybe my empty bed, if I’m not home in the morning.” 

“Orrr…”

Lifting their linked hands Lena leads Webby in a little giggling twirl before letting go with a flourish.

“You could be back in snug in bed before she even knows you were gone.” Bending down she started sorting through the pile of ropes and break-in implements. “Only after having some fun first, of course. How long until she notices you’re missing?”

“Hmm.” Webby hums, absentmindedly rubbing the hand that had been holding Lena’s. “Her next security sweep should be in approximately two-and-a-half hours.”

Lena looks up, pausing her search with a flat stare. “Security sweep? Seriously?

It’s Webby’s turn to shrug. “My Granny really likes a secure perimeter!”

“I guess I can dig that...” Muttering, Lena leans back down and pulls a couple of small cannisters from the jumble. “I can also think of at least three adventures we can have before you’ve gotta head back.”

Webby perks up so quickly her hairbow seems to snap to attention. “Adventures?”

Lena tosses her a cannister with a grin. “You up for it? I’ll even walk you home after.”

The sound that escapes Webby would have shattered the stage lights, if they hadn’t already all been smashed.

“YES! Yes to adventure!”

Bouncing up and down on her heels she makes a move as if to pounce on Lena again, then checks herself and clasps her hands together around the cannister instead.

“With my best friend!”

She pauses and blinks down at the thing in her hands.

“An adventure in… painting?”

“You got it.”

Tossing her own spray paint can from hand to hand Lena leads the way to a second set of stepping stones, these ones heading off the stage and into the stands.

“Okay so for this first adventure we’re gonna need to ditch the rope and get some water balloons. And paint. More paint. Like, a lot more paint. I’m thinking something in pink, maybe a day-glow... You cool with messing around with the Beagle Boys some more, right?”

Webby skips after her, almost floating on every step. “Totally! We only ALMOST died last time, after all!”

Lena snickers. “Yeeaah it sounds bad when you say it like that.”

“Bad as in good?” Webby askes, coming alongside her.

“Bad as in awesome.” Lena agrees, clinking their cans together in a toast.

“Aha!” Webby cheers as they set off into the patchwork shadows of the city night together. “I knew it! Oh hey you know what these spray cans remind me of this time Granny let me test out bear spray on a real bear, for practice, just to be safe, before dropping me off on the survive or die island for holiday, but- you know that phrase ‘kicking the can down the road’? It comes from this game kids play together and I’ve never had anyone to play it with but it sounds fun and anyway, the bear, right! Well back then I remembered that thing about the can kicking game too! And I got so excited I dropped the can and kicked the bear…”

The night deepens as Webby’s fills the air. Lena watches her, quiet and smiling, as the shadow lengthen around them.  

One shadow, trailing reluctantly at Lena’s heels, pulls itself up a wall and twists itself into a new shape. The sharp figure of woman appears, with a short bob of ‘hair’ and a disgusted scowl.

Blegh...

The shadow hisses, soundless as the darkness.

If playing along with this pink little wretch doesn’t get us into Scroogie’s manor soon, I am going to be SICK.

Lena’s shoulders twitch.

It’ll be worth it. She thinks back at the shadow as it coils in behind her, insubstantial and somehow still breathing down her neck. So just shut up for a sec and let me focus.

Shut up?

An accusatory hiss rasps in her ear, discordant against the backdrop of Webby infodumping about the origins of pepper spray.

Are you telling me to shut up? ME?

Lena flinches.

The shadow dances at her back, it’s whisper turning ice-cold, smooth and scornful.

Poor little dumb-dumb Lena, so desperate that you're actually enjoying this, aren’t you...?

No, Lena think back quickly, wrenching her eyes away from Webby’s beaming smile and back to the street ahead of them. I’m not. I’m really, really not.

Hmm….  

If Webby had looked up right then, instead of being busy reading out the ingredients listed on the spray paint can and listing all the ways they could be easily weaponized, if she had looked up, she might have seen Lena’s smile slip at the corners.

She might also have noticed an exhausted slump in the teen’s shoulders, or realized she’d seen a similar sad, guilty look in her Granny’s eyes only a few hours beforehand.

Or maybe not.

Lena hadn’t chosen to live under an abandoned theater for no reason, after all. She was very good at lying.

Especially to herself.  

[emilou-keen-gear]

can you draw Della & Daisy Duck together like future sister in law?

Interesting request. I drew a sketch, but I thought a little story should go with it.

            “Donald.”

            Daisy said his name with such sweetness that Donald felt something inside of him melt.

            “Daisy,” he said back, loving how her name felt on his tongue.

            “Donald, we’ve been dating for quite a while, haven’t we?” Daisy said, playing with the salad on her plate.

            “Yes, we have,” Donald said. Although he had dated some and had a few girlfriends, Daisy had stayed with him the longest. In fact, Donald hoped that she was the one. He hoped that he would have no other dates but with her.

            “I was just thinking that perhaps I should get to know your family a bit better since we’re so close,” Daisy said. “We’ve had dinner with my parents several times, and you get along great with them. But I hardly have spent time with your family.”

            Donald knew that Daisy wasn’t talking about his mother. They already had that discussion. Did she mean Uncle Scrooge and the boys? How much more did she want to spend with them? Daisy had already helped them fight a monster and settled a dispute with the Olympic gods. She helped him out with May and June all the time, clones of a clone of his Uncle Scrooge. Webby was constantly on his houseboat so to get to know her “sisters” better, meaning that Huey, Dewey and Louie weren’t far behind. She spoke frequently with Mrs. Beakley since she had been to London several times because of work, and they had a lot in common. Even Uncle Scrooge had several conversations with Daisy, mostly about starting a new business and the troubles that one has with marketing and spending.

            What more did she want?

            “Well…they’re always off adventuring, and I didn’t think you liked that kind of stuff,” Donald said. He hoped she didn’t. He had sworn off adventures. Of course, he said that after each new adventure, and somehow, Uncle Scrooge and the boys always roped him back in.

            “No, of course not,” Daisy said, shaking her head. She gave a tentative smile. “I guess what I'm getting at is that there are…certain members of your family I’d like to get to know more.”

            “Who?” Donald asked, ready to give her everything she wanted. If she wanted to strike up a better relationship with his family, he would do whatever she wanted. His family all loved Daisy, and he was sure they would be willing to spend time with her.

            “Della.”

            “Oh,” Donald said, his resolve dropping. It wasn’t that Della disliked Daisy, but his twin couldn’t have been more different than his fashion-savvy girlfriend.

            “She’s your twin sister,” Daisy said, her voice getting stronger. “I want us to get along, but I feel as if she’s avoiding me. Maybe I’m wrong. It think that once I get to know her, she won’t feel so standoffish to me.”

            Donald smiled. He knew Della had been avoiding Daisy, but he wasn’t going to tell her that.

            “Do you think you could get Della to agree to a girl’s night out with me?” Daisy asked, taking Donald’s hand. “It would mean so much to me.”

            Donald couldn’t say no as his face heat up. “Sure. Della would love to have a girl’s night out,” he lied.

***

            “No!”

            “Oh, come on, Della,” Donald protested. “It’s just one night.”

            “No. Absolutely not. No way!” Della protested, shaking her fist at her brother.

            “It’s not going to hurt you to do something with her,” Donald said. He almost used her full name to goad her like he used to when they were small, but goading Della would almost certainly make her grind her heels in even more.

            “I won’t and you can’t make me,” Della said childishly.

            “I’m just asking for this one thing. You owe me,” Donald said, raising his voice.

            “Owe you?” Della shouted, her voice rising as well. “I don’t owe you anything. You’ve got nothin’ on me.”

            “Oh yeah,” Donald said, feeling as if he had trapped his twin. “I raised the boys for ten years.”

            “I was stuck on the moon,” Della protested.

            “But I still raised them,” Donald said. “I did it because they are family, because I love you and I love them. I could have went off and started a band and become famous…”

            Della rolled her eyes.

            “…but I didn’t because the boys needed me. So I think that makes it so you owe me this one favor,” Donald reasoned.

            Della folded her arms. “That’s not fair that you’re using the boys against me.”

            “It’s not fair that you won’t spend time with Daisy,” Donald said. “I really like her, and I want you to get to know her.”

            Della made a face. “But she’s all girly and into clothes and shoes and junk. She’s going to make me go to the spa and get my nails done and everything that I hate.” She stuck out her tongue, but then took in a deep breath. “But if you really like this girl, then fine, I’ll go out with her for one night. But then we’re square?”

            “Then we’re square,” Donald affirmed.

            They both spat in their hands and shook, just as they had when they were young.

***

            “Penny, you have to help me,” Della shouted into her phone.

            “What is it, Della?” Penumbra asked, her muscles tensing. “Are you being attacked? Is it another super villain? Did someone capture any of the little Dellas?”

            “No, no,” Della said in a calming tone. “Nothing like that. I just need you to come with me while I spend time with my brother’s girlfriend.”

            Penumbra paused. “Say what?”

            Della sighed. “You don’t understand, Penny. Donald’s dating this girl and she’s totally different than me. She wants to spend time with me for some reason, but she’s into all these fru-fru, girly things. It’s going to be torture.”

            “Your brother’s girlfriend is going to torture you?” Penumbra asked, reaching for her ray gun.

            “No. Penny, put down the weapon. It’s just an expression,” Della said, knowing her friend all-too well. “It’s complicated. We just like different things and she’s going to want me to do things I don’t like.”

            “Kind of like what Webby and Dewey did to me?” Penumbra asked.

            “Yes…No, nothing like that because you actually learned to like some of those things,” Della said, doing a terrible job of explaining things to Penumbra. “Look, just come with me. You can be my buffer. Like, if Daisy is talking about shoes and makeup and junk, you can—“

            “Put her in a headlock,” Penumbra quickly guessed.

            “No…I mean, maybe. We’ll leave that as a second option,” Della said. “But try changing the subject first. Mention something that isn’t boring.”

            Penumbra thought about Della’s dilemma. She recalled Della’s brother from the moon. He was a bit high-strung, but he could certainly take a punch. She liked him. And if Donald liked this Daisy-girl, it was hard for Penumbra to believe that she was as terrible of a person as Della was making her out to be.

            “Please, Penny,” Della pleaded. “I know I’m asking a lot from you, which will probably mean going to a spa, getting mani-pedis, makeovers and a hair blowout, but I promise you that I will owe you bigtime if you do this for me.”

            Penumbra’s eyes widened. Della had said it wasn’t literally torture, but those words made her believe otherwise. Hair blow out? Makeovers? Whatever this “spa” is, must be the worst place on earth.

            “I’ll be there,” Penumbra said in a dark voice and hung up.

***

            Daisy waited patiently on the bench just outside the Duckburg Downtown park, waiting for Della to show up. It was only a few minutes before their meeting time, and she checked her messages on her phone while every once in a while looking up and watching the traffic go by.

            A few minutes later, a stretch limo careened through traffic, drove up on the sidewalk, and hit a cement garbage can, denting the bumper. Della jumped out, along with a female moonlander that Daisy had seen around the McDuck Mansion every now and then.

            “Thanks Launchpad,” Della said, wincing at the damage to the car. “I’ll call you if we need a ride home.”

            “Have fun,” Launchpad shouted before backing up, causing several cars to honk their horn, then driving off.

            Daisy didn’t even say anything about Launchpad’s driving or his purpose as a chauffeur in the McDuck family. She had been around enough eccentric rich people to know they had their quirks—and surrounded themselves with even quirkier people—and there wasn’t anything to do about it.

            “You look nice, Della,” Daisy complimented.

            She didn’t think she had ever seen Donald’s twin in anything other than her aviator clothes. But Della was in a form-fitting t-shirt that set off her eyes and a pair of flattering slacks. It was the most feminine she had ever seen the pilot.

            “This is my only nice outfit, and I’m not apologizing if it’s not good enough for where we’re going,” Della said in an almost rude tone.

            Daisy ignored Della’s prickly nature, thinking that was just how she seemed to everyone. Perhaps when they had spent some time together, Della would lighten up. She then turned to the moonlander.

            “No, what you’re wearing is great,” Daisy said, trying to be friendly. In fact, she was dressed similar with a simple V-neck shirt and designer jeans. It was a step down from her usual style, and she had hoped it would put Della at ease. “And who is your friend?” Daisy asked, not mentioning that this was supposed to be an evening for just the two of them.

            “Oh, this is my friend, Penny,” Della said. “She helped me rebuild my rocket on the moon.”

            “Nice to meet you,” Daisy said, offering her hand.

            “Likewise,” Penny said in a dark tone, narrowing her eyes.

            Daisy took a step back. Okay, so maybe Della just like overbearing friends.

            “You said this was a girl’s night out, and Penny is a girl,” Della said. “You don’t mind that I invited her, do you?”

            Daisy was a bit irritated, but she was used to surprises being sprung on her. She could roll with it. “No, that’s fine. Maybe next time, you could call me if you want to bring a friend. Let’s exchange numbers.”

            “Next time?” Della muttered, putting her hands on her hips. “Sorry, but I didn’t bring my phone.”

            “But you should still know you’re number,” Daisy said, confused.

            “Oh…uh…Penny, how are you liking your phone? Pretty cool, huh? I bet you didn’t have this kind of technology on the moon,” Della said, changing the subject and using Penny as a buffer.

            “Yes, this technology is quite interesting,” Penumbra said in her matter-of-fact way. “We would never have thought to use communication devises in such a lackadaisical way to play mind-numbing games and view videos of cats.”

            “Ha ha. Good ol’ Penny,” Della said, patting her friend’s arm.

            “I also find it interesting that you earthlings use your phone to collect the numbers of other phones,” Penny said. “My collection is not so impressive, and this seems to make me of a lower rank because of it. May I collect your phone’s number?”

            Daisy was a bit confused by the way Penny spoke as well as how someone she just met had asked for her number, but she was too polite to say no. They exchanged numbers.

            Penny had a small smile when she was able to type in Daisy’s number.

            “Shall we go?” Daisy asked, gesturing down the sidewalk.

            “Ugh,” Della said before remembering she should be on her best behavior for Donald. “I mean, sure. Let’s go have fun!”

            The three walked side-by-side, Daisy a little ways in front leading the way.

            Penny tilted her head to better to ask a question. “If I may ask, when we get to this… “spa,” how much of my hair am I to expect to be removed in the explosion?”

            “What?” Daisy said far too loudly.

            “I don’t mind losing all of it, but I just want to know what to expect,” Penny said. “And for the make-over, is the body alterations going to be permanent and will I receive a gold medal if I can make it through the entire thing without screaming?”

            At that point, Della slapped a hand over her friend’s mouth. “Oh, ha ha ha. Oh, Penny, you joker. Wasn’t that a barrel of laughs?”

            Daisy’s eyes had widened before her mind realized what was going on. Having dealt with her share of moonlanders—you’d be surprised with how many became successful quickly in the fashion industry—she knew how some of them could be.

            “Penny, this is not how a buffer should act,” Della hissed at Penny.

            “Della, did you think we’re going to a spa?” Daisy asked, stopping and putting her hands on her hips.

            “Uh…isn’t that what…Aren’t we?” Della asked, looking uncertain.

            “Della, I’ve seen your nails,” Daisy said with a shake of her head. “It’s clear to me that you haven’t set foot within a mile of a nail salon. Nor do you seem to be the type who would enjoy being pampered or dolled up.”

            Della frowned. “You’ve been making a lot of assumptions. I might like…all that stuff.”

            Daisy didn’t take Della’s comment as belligerent. She had known people like Della, who used sarcasm and humor when she felt uncomfortable with a situation.

            “Well, we can go do that next time if you want, but I chose spending the evening here,” Daisy said and raised her arms at the establishment they were approaching.

            Della’s jaw dropped. It was a bar. And not just any bar. But one of those themed one that specialized in a unique type of entertainment.

            “No way,” Della said when they went inside, seeing a row of cages set up where anyone could pay for throwing knives, Chinese stars, hatchets and a variety of other throwing weapons to attack a wooden target. “Sweet!” she shouted as a burly man threw a full-sized axe at his wooden target.

            “First round’s on me, both on the drinks and the game,” Daisy said. “Next round, loser pays.”

            “Heh,” Della smirked, putting her hands in her pocket. “Get ready to pay for a lot of rounds then, Daisy.”

            “We’ll see,” Daisy said, raising her hand to the bartender to indicate that they wanted three beers. He filled them up and slid them down the wooden bar.

            Della caught Penny’s just before it slid off the bar.

            “I don’t get this,” Penny whispered. “This doesn’t look like the spa that you described.”

            “This isn’t a spa,” Della whispered back.

            “Then what is it?” Penny asked, looking down into her drink and sniffing it. “Della, I have to warn you, Donald’s girlfriend has bought us drinks with an inebriating poison inside it. Do you think she intended to drug you?”

            “Oh yeah,” Della said, taking a big drink. “And it’s not poison. It’s alcohol.”

            “Alcohol is a poison,” Daisy said. “And you two are whispering way too loud.”

            Della grinned sheepishly, looking very much like her twin brother.

            Another of the bar’s employees came by and showed them which cage they would get to use for the weapons throwing.

            “Don’t drink too quickly. If you get too drunk, they’ll take away your toys,” Daisy said with a grin. She set her drink down at a table, picked up one of the throwing stars and threw it at the target. It sunk in deep in the white ring just short of a bull’s-eye.

            “Whoa,” Della said, her eyes wide. “Why do I get the feeling you’ve done this before?”

            “After working for Emma Glamour for years, a girl has got to find a way to take out her frustrations and burn off some stress,” Daisy said. “I tried yoga, but it wasn’t my thing.”

            Della gave her a big smile. “Maybe I will have to buy a few rounds. Now move over. It’s my turn.”

            “Do you have something heavier?” Penny asked the bar’s employee, hefting the largest axe they had.

***

            Donald lay in his hammock with his phone against his ear, listening to Daisy talk of her evening. He was falling asleep to the sound of her voice, which would most likely give him sweet dreams, but it might also irritate Daisy. He had to pay attention.

            “I’m glad you and Della had a good time together,” Donald said, which had surprised him. Who knew that those two had something in common? “I’m sorry, Daisy, but I’m so tired. How about I take you out to the movies tomorrow?”

            “Can’t,” Daisy said. “I’m going out with Della again. She still owes me a few rounds.”

***

It was a really fun story to write, although I'm not a fan of the picture. Daisy, Della and Penumbra aren't characters I've drawn a lot of (or at all.) Thanks for the request.

[wacky-nameless-inventor-24]

WIP Wednesday #14

Over My Head stuff!!!!

The conversation was interrupted when the duckling scrambled down off of the bench she was sitting on and ran over to Blue, holding a hand out. “Hi, I’m Webby!” 

Blue took a startled step back. “Oh, hello. I’m Blue!” They shook hands, and Webby was so enthusiastic Blue was convinced she’d shake their hand off. 

Scrooge stood as well to better introduce them. “Blue, this is mah niece-” 

Beakley cut in, “-and my granddaughter!” 

“-Webby, she’s staying at the castle this week.” Scrooge walked over and ruffled the duckling’s hair. “She can be a little troublesome sometimes, so don’t be afraid ta come get me or Beakley if she’d doin’ anything she’s not supposed to.” 

Webby wore the dimmer more ragged clothes of the commoners, besides the large startlingly pink bow in her hair. “I’ve heard so much about you!” Webby exclaimed, looking up at Blue in awe. “Is it true that you’re the one who destroyed the gardens?” 

Slightly overwhelmed by her enthusiasm, Blue took another step back. “I- um-”

Blue's got a new admirer.

“Wait, I didn’t know you two were related?” Blue asked, glancing between Scrooge and Beakley. If Webby was Beakely’s granddaughter and Scrooge’s niece, then the relation between those two was-

“We’re not,” Beakley said, setting a bowl down in front of Blue. 

“I’m adopted!” Webby explained. 

“By…” 

“Both of them!” 

“Oh.” 

The meal was delicious, and Blue was only now realizing how hungry they were. They were nearly halfway done with their food when they noticed that Webby had been staring at them the whole time, an amazed look on her face. 

Blue cleared their throat. “So, uh, Webby… where do you usually stay?” 

I don't know what I'm doing with the whole Webby clone thing yet, but this is a start. XD

[gladly-be-the-good]

Danny Phantom Ducktales Crossover Part 3

The next time Scrooge saw the youngsters, their parents were trying to sneak into his Manor.

He quickly called Duckworth to his office and warned him to steer clear. Lena wasn't supposed to visit today, so the pesky ghost gutters wouldn't be anything Beakly couldn't handle. She had been informed of their intentions and would no doubt expel them more quickly than she would normal intruders. That went to show how much she liked Lena and tolerated Duckworth, since intruder removal was already remarkably efficient.

Lena hadn't planned on visiting Webby today, but Violet had a Woodchuck thing and Lena knew from past experience that if she was left alone for too long things tended to get… dangerous. So Webby was getting a surprise girl's day. She was going to love it. The way her best friend’s eyes lit up when she saw Lena, never failed to brighten even the teen’s darker moods.

She took one look at the people in front of her first home and pulled out her phone. Two adults were creeping up the tall hill toward McDuck Manor, having somehow gotten past the gates. Duckworth usually took care of people if they started to trample through the gardens. Brutally.

She kept her expression casual as she texted Mrs Beakly and walked over to the two teens who waited as far from their parents as possible. The boy was close to her age, maybe just fourteen. The older girl was shaking her head and constantly looking around them.

"We are going to be so arrested." She muttered anxiously.

"Nah. First time offenders are fed to the shark." Lena said casually. The boy almost smiled, even as his sister jumped in surprise.

"Any shark that could successfully eat all of my dad would immediately die."

"Your dad is absurdly tall. What is he, seven and half feet tall?"

"Two feet of that is fudge. That's what'd kill the shark. Diabetes." Lena hummed in amusement and said,

"Magic shark. I like your style though. What's your name kid?"

"Danny, and I bet I'm older than you."

"I doubt it. I'm fourteen. Almost fifteen."

"Ha. I turn fifteen this weekend."

"I'm Jazz, the only member of this family that has never willingly tried to break and enter." Lena hummed.

“Future president?”

“Not with a criminal record I won’t be.” She was such a Huey.

“People try to sneak in here all the time. I used to sneak in here all the time. Only a few have actually been arrested.”

“That’s…good? Oh! You must be Lena!” Jazz’s eyes lit up. “I’ve heard so much about you! I was actually wondering if you had a minute to talk-” Lena felt all her walls slam right back up. People didn’t want to talk to her. Not about anything good. Not unless they were family.

“Don’t tell me you came all the way here just to talk to me?” Because you’d be lying.

Her eyes were hard and her posture defensive.

Jazz felt the already vibrating anxiety in her chest, exasperated by her parents breaking the law and breaking into someone’s house, someone Jazz needed on her side, starting to match the tempo of a hummingbird’s heartbeat. Desperate, utterly desperate, she tried to explain. To pull Lena back out of the box she saw Danny close himself into all the time.

“No! It’s not like that! Our parents are ghost hunters and they have wanted to come out here since the portal opened. We just got dragged along-” Lena scowled.

Seriously?

Ghost hunters?

Duckworth was in that house. She was in that house. Sure, Lena was more than happy to wreck any supernatural threat to her family, but some of those supernatural threats were her family!

“Yeah you’re definitely going to want to get out of here. Beakley will not go easy.”

The ginger girl looked ready to protest or…cry? But her brother shook his head.

“Leave it Jazz. It’s not worth it. It won’t change anything anyway.”

A familiar accent rang down the slope and Lena felt herself relax. When had she started to think of Bentena Beakley as someone who’d keep her safe?

“You will leave this property immediately! Should you return, and I strongly advise you against returning, you will be thrown into prison without hesitation. Mr. McDuck has elected to ignore my advice that you already be dealt with so severely.” The adults, who honestly looked more like pouting, sulking, kids, were followed closely by a red-faced housekeeper.

“But this whole place radiates paranormal energy! You could all be in very serious danger!”

“And this would be the perfect chance to try out the Fenton Spector Shredder!”

“We are well equipped to handle danger and we already have a shredder. I’ll thank you to leave quietly before Mr. McDuck is given the ‘perfect chance’ to try out any number of security traps.”

In all the time Lena had been alive, so like, a year, she had never seen the housekeeper falter. But when she saw Lena, she faltered. It was easily missed, a footstep out of cadence, a shadow of worry hiding in her eyes. Beakley was… scared for her?

“Lena, what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be with the Saberwings today.” The fear wasn’t quite well enough hidden and Danny and Jazz’s mother whipped out a scanner of some sort. No sooner did Lena see it than a red light started blinking and two voices shouted in tandem,

“Ghost!” Just as the hunter’s reached for their weapons- (how had Beakley not taken their weapons?) -and Beakley reached to break their bones- (maybe she was just having a bad day and was looking for an excuse to break some bones) -a head of bright orange hair blocked her from view. Their daughter stood in the line of fire and they still didn't lower their guns.

Danny started talking quickly, eyes darting to her occasionally with concern and something like hope?

“You said this whole place registers as ghostly. Lena lives here, so it makes sense that she registers too, right?” They were protecting her. The ghost hunter’s kids… were protecting her. From their family. But maybe they weren’t family. Maybe it was like her and Aunt- like her and Magica.

You must be Lena

I’ve heard so much about you

I was actually wondering if you had a minute to talk-

We just got dragged along-

The only member of our family who has never willingly tried to break and enter-

-never willingly-

“That’s a wonderful observation Danny. Why can’t you apply yourself like this to your school work?” His mother’s praise and reprimand reminded Lena so much of the things Magica used to say. She felt sick.

The excuse he’d given for her, it carried the same desperate denial that Lenas' always had, when Magica confronted her about Webby. Her mouth was dry and her stomach was churning.

Danny sounded pained when he responded.

“Just, not as fun as ghost hunting, I guess.” Lena’s heart pounded in her chest.

“He’s a chip off the old block! Come on, son, I’ll show you how the shredder works!” Jazz quickly interjected,

“Wouldn’t it be best to do that in a controlled environment? Where there are no external factors like dust or sudden weather changes or, I don’t know, police officers?” She smiled tightly. Their Dad lit up.

“Good thinking Jazzy! I know just the place! To the Fenton-mobile!” Jack bounded toward the gate, dragging Jazz behind him like an excited, reckless kid with an old toy.

Maddy put her hands on her hip and frowned at Danny.

“I know what you were trying to do just now young man.” She started walking to the gate and Danny followed and Beakley followed and Lena followed, although she couldn’t figure out why she would want to see anymore of this flaming, familiar, trainwreck.

Danny missed a beat.

“You do?” Beakley reached for something at her waste subtly. Lena was right next to her, practically pushed into her side, and she still couldn’t tell what the weapon might be. Maybe it was invisible. Weirder things had happened. Like Lena letting Beakley walk so close to her. Like Beakley choosing to walk so close to her. Both of them liked their own space.

No personal bubbles, ghost hunters, strangers standing up for her, trauma that she hadn’t had to deal with in a record month coming back to haunt her….Yeah. Weird day.

“You might be able to distract your father with ghost hunting but we will be discussing your school work later.”

“Right, of course.” Danny’s relief changed to muffled annoyance. “Of course.” They reached the main gates, still warped from Launchpad’s last crash. So that’s how they got in.

Jazz was shifting nervously from foot to foot.

“Hi. Sorry about, all of this. I hope, I mean I’d like, could we start over?” Lena could feel Beakley bristling, but that was just because she didn’t know yet. She didn’t see what Lena could see.

The almost fifteen year old offered a half-hearted, mock solute and said,

“Madam president. I look forward to your candidacy. I’m gonna have to vote against you if my best friend’s brother runs at the same time, though.” If she could vote. And was in the country. And paid attention to boring political stuff like that.

Despite Lena’s lackadaisical attitude, or maybe because of it, Jazz looked relieved.

“Naturally. I’d vote for my brother too.” Danny’s tired expression twisted into disgust.

“Ew, no. If I ever run for public office, assume I’ve been overshadowed, cloned, or replaced by a shape-shifting alien.” Lena snorted but noted his terminology. Overshadowed. Maybe it was a ghost hunter’s kid thing, but that wasn’t a word most people knew.

She gently probed the waters as Jazz started to climb into the mobile home and Maddy offered Beakley a curt good-bye.

“Yeah, getting possessed is the worst.” Her mouth tasted like tar how could a shadow taste like anything- oh yeah it was because Magica wasn’t actually a shadow she was a shadow and she had been all along-

Danny’s eyes widened. He checked to see if his parents were listening before he breathed,

“Yeah. It really, really is.”

“I’d never do that to somebody. Ya know. If I could.” Danny ducked his head.

“If that was something I could do, I might have. If I didn’t know what I was doing or what it felt like or was desperate.”

He couldn’t raise his head. He had found another Halfa and they were going to hate him. He was so good at that. “But I think, if I had, I’d hate myself for it.”

“I’d forgive you.” Lena’s response was automatic. She hadn’t even really thought it through. But in the face of his stunned expression, Lena realized that, yes. She wouldn’t be able to be angry at Danny for anything he’d done in the past. It was like looking in a mirror. Only this time, no trace of Magica was anywhere in sight.

Maddy stalked back over to Danny and said,

“Let’s go. It’s clear that we’re not welcome here.”

“Okay, sure. I was just telling Lena about Inviso-bill. I thought she might have heard about him since he was on some local Amity park blogs and, ya know, the internet gets things all over the place.”

Maddy’s eyes brightened, a sickening similarity to the way her daughter’s eyes lit up. She hadn’t caught the message.

Look up Amity park’s Inviso-bill.

“Oh? That’s wonderful Danny! The more people who know about the danger ghosts pose to the public the better.” How could he live like this? Lena folded her arms and shifted her weight.

“Yeah, I’m vaguely interested. What ghost calls themselves Inviso-bill, though?” Danny blushed furiously.

“Nobody knows that that’s his name!”

“That’s true.” Maddy added, eager to educate the poor Ignorant living part time under Scrooge McDuck’s roof. “There is a lot of information about him that can’t be trusted. Some people in Amity think he’s a hero, if you can believe that.” She laughed and it was like nails on a chalkboard. She tipped her head back the same way as- The goggles over her eyes made them look red just like-

“Okay Mom, we should really head out.”

“Here’s our business card, just call the second number if you have any questions or see anything here that might be specter related.” Maddy handed over the card but made the mistake of putting her hand on Lena’s shoulder.

Most days, Lena was fine. She was surrounded by her friends, her family, and the phantom weight of slim fingers made of darkness faded into the recesses of her mind. Most days, reminders of Magica were few and far between and when they did show up they were dealt with because now Lena knew that bottling it up wouldn’t help any. Now Lena knew she could lean on people sometimes without them shying away and leaving her to fall. Today was no longer one of those days.

She jerked away from the touch and turned around and walked as quickly as she could without running back through the gates and up the hill. Beakley was shouting below her. Then, purposefully heavy footsteps followed a respectful distance behind her.

Eventually, Lena stopped, just shy of the main house.

“I’m fine.” She insisted, voice carefully light but not all together steady. “I am. Just, they’re just memories.” She gripped her friendship bracelets and repeated. “I’m fine.”

“I know.”

The accented voice was soft and coming from her height. She turned around and hugged Beakley, who was on her knees, ready to catch her.

Lena cried and sputtered,

“This is, this is just because I promised Webby, that I’d hug you someday. That’s all!”

“I made a similar promise about a week after she met you.”

“She’s the best.”

“She is.”

After a moment, or a minute or five or ten, who knew? Lena pulled away and swiped at her eyes.

“He’s like me.” She sniffed.

“I gathered as much.”

“Of course you did.” Lena folded her arms and hated how much like a hug it was. She should be past needing hugs. Right? “We won’t just, we’re going to help him, right?”

“Of course we are.” Beakley confirmed. Lena nodded, but sensed some reservation in the former super spy’s tone.

“We’re going to save him, right?” There was a moment of hesitation before her answer.

“Of course we are.” Lena nodded and finished heading into the house. She waved off Duckworth's aloof but worried glances and Scrooge’s fury and awkward attempts at comfort. She just wanted to be alone until Webby got home. She didn’t want to ask anymore questions that would result in promises that everything would be okay for Danny. That nothing would stop them from saving him from his so called family, even risk to their own. She didn’t want them to have to say any of that.

Because they’d be lying.

[cotton-tails]

So I saw this last night, and the little angsty plot bunny in my head woke up and I just had to write something. Fully intended to be a drabble of sorts, but of course it turned into a four page tear-fest, so grab the tissues and strap in.

Oh, and I haven't edited this, it's just 3am word-vomit, so enjoy the mess!

-

“So, this hasn’t exactly gone to plan.”

Della snorts cheerlessly at Donald’s deadpan comment, struggling into a sitting position and wincing at a twinge in her elbow. The chains dig into her arms with every movement, a very clear upgrade from the ropes they’d all been able to break out of within several minutes not too long ago. These idiots don’t know who they’re messing with.

Or they do; probably a little too well, hence the plan that fell apart very quickly. And the chains. And the scary looking red lightning below them.

“Shut up!” Heron snaps behind them, cuffing Donald a little too roughly around the head.

He doesn’t react more than a sharp hiss and a dark glare behind him, and Della can’t help the sharp pang of guilt under the surge of anger. She bites back a comment, keeping her eyes fixed on the ground until the villain is out of earshot.

“I’m sorry,” she breathes, keeping her voice low.

“What? Why?” Donald sounds confused but she can’t bring herself to look at him.

“You should be with Daisy right now,” she says, “I’m the one who guilted you into staying, into coming on this stupid trip. And now we’re facing the very real possibility of dying.”

Donald is quiet.

Forcing herself to look up, she frowns at the look on his face. He still doesn’t say anything, but the expression says it all; ‘Della-you-absolute-idiot-what-are-you-blathering-on-about?’

“I came on this stupid trip cause our kids were in trouble,” he hisses eventually, “my family were in trouble! You think I wouldn’t ditch my vacation in a heartbeat for any of you?”

“I-” Della starts, but her voice catches, rendering her utterly speechless. He’s not lying, she knows exactly what he would do for the family, for her. Yet, somehow that knowledge isn’t exactly helping.

She misses her chance to reply, all conversation cut off with the explosive arrival of Scrooge and Bradford through the roof.

Della clenches her fist and almost bites through the inside of her cheek as he slams to the ground. She manages to chime out a ‘Hey Uncle Scrooge,’ with Donald when his pained gaze finds them. Beakley mutters a sarcastic ‘Fantastic,’ from her other side. She can only watch as a now armoured Bradford, armed with the sword, picks him up by the back of his coat and drags him up the stairs. He’s blathering on about something, but she’s stopped listening; too busy focusing on her battered and beaten uncle and how this could have gone so completely and utterly wrong.

It’s the usual spiel anyway, threats to destroy his family, his adventures, everything he had worked for, blah blah blah.

Then the contract is revealed, and her stomach drops to somewhere around her knees. If they don’t find a way out soon, Scrooge will have to either sign his life away or they all die, and frankly, neither option sound particularly appealing.

It’s only when Bradford sacrifices his own agents that the desperateness of the situation really sinks in. It’s one thing to talk about murder, it’s entirely another to actually do it. And if Bradford is willing to throw away his own agents, Della can’t imagine what he would be willing to do to her family if Scrooge doesn’t sign.

He tries to buy some time. Della can almost hear the cogs turning in his head as he tries to figure out how to get out of this one. She huffs out a half-hearted laugh at the sharp quip about the fine-print. He’d figure something out, he always does. Not to mention the kids are bound to have found a way out by now, they’d pick up the rest of their allies and be on their way to disrupt the whole evil plan.

It’s just a matter of-

“Ugh! Enough stalling!”

Never mind.

“You need some incentive.”

Della does not like where this is going.

“Perhaps the life of your most trusted ally?”

The three of them snap their heads forward as Bradford stalks towards them, sword dragging on the concrete threateningly. As the screeching rings in Della’s ears, the only thought racing through her mind is ‘not Donnie, not Donnie, please, don’t take my brother.’

Her heart almost stops when he scoops Donald up by his collar, his cry echoing in her ears.

“Donald!” Three voices scream.

She can barely breathe, crippling panic bubbling up inside. All she wants to do is close her eyes and scream, break these chains and drag him back to safety, but she can’t move, she can’t take her eyes off her twin as he’s dangled over the edge.

“What will it be Scrooge? Adventure? Or your Family?”

‘Just do what he wants!’ She’s not ashamed of the thought. They’ll figure out a way to reverse the contract, there’s always a way, always a loophole. Just do it so she can see her brother safely on solid ground.

“Alright, I’ll do it.”

She can’t say she’s surprised at how quickly he gives in.

“No! Don’t!” Donald screams, “find a way out! You can beat him!”

The pen is already in his hand. “It’s not worth the risk lad.”

They can only watch in horror at the golden glow that circles around him, lifting him up and binding him with unbreakable chains that drag him to the ground.

“I did it!” Bradford crows triumphantly. “The great Scrooge McDuck, now only a poor old man!”

Della’s heart breaks just a little at the look of absolute misery on her old uncle’s face, but she doesn’t have time to mourn properly, because Bradford is talking. Again.

“Normally I wouldn’t indulge in such petty villainy,” he says, his gaze turning back to Donald, still dangling over the edge, with a glint in his eye that makes Della’s blood run cold. “But since this is a special occasion.”

He lets go.

Della’s eyes meet Donald’s for an agonising second, and then he’s gone.

There’s a flash of red, and someone is screaming.

She doesn’t even realise it’s her until a rough hand knocks her back.

“Shut it! Or it’ll be you next!”

Hot tears stream down her beak and she presses her forehead into the cold concrete, not even bothering to choke back a sob. Over the pounding of her own taunting heartbeat in her ears, she hears the sound of the machine powering down (‘Too late’ her traitorous mind provides), of her kids voices yelling something, and Scrooge shouting for them to be careful.

And Bradford, confused and angry as her family finally, finally step in to save the day.

His voice sets off something inside that she hadn’t felt since the day Lunaris betrayed her. A raging anger that burns through her, overwhelming any other emotion and completely taking over her mind.

The chains are no longer an obstacle, and even Beakley can’t stop her from launching herself at the buzzard. They tumble down the stairs, fists flying and feet kicking. Everything blurs after that, which may or may not be a side effect of a rather painful bump on the head as they hit the ground at the bottom of the staircase. She’s kicked off, then it’s just a cloud of lights and bodies and a strong arm holding her back from doing anything overly-reckless and potentially stupid.

The kids, her (their) beautiful, wonderful kids, figure out the loophole and the ever-binding contract disintegrates.

It’s done.

The maniacal villain is defeated once more. The world has returned to rights and the sounds of celebration fill the air.

But Della can only stand and watch, her hands trembling and eyes burning. Beakley stands behind her, hands hovering just behind her shoulders, ready to give comfort if needed.

He’s gone.

Her brother, the other half of her soul; just… gone.

And… oh.

Her knees buckle, a wrecked sob forcing its way from her throat. Beakley catches her with a arm round the shoulders and a hand under her elbow, lowering her gently to the ground as she crumples into a ball. She presses her hands to her eyes in a hopeless attempt to stem the tears as everything comes crashing down.

“It’s okay, let it out dear.”

He shouldn’t have been here. He should’ve been on that amazing adventure with Daisy, sailing together on that old houseboat. After everything life had thrown at him, after all the madness they’d been through, he’d finally caught a break, finally found that amazing person who loved him as fiercely as he loved her.

Then Della had come along, crying about lost time and not being ready. She hadn’t wanted to him to leave, even on a stupid vacation that he would very clearly be coming back from.

Now he wouldn’t even get the chance to go.

And it’s all her fault.

“Mom?”

The obvious confusion and concern in Huey’s voice is enough to send her tumbling over the edge all over again, fresh tears springing up at the thought of having to explain what happened to her- to his kids.

Scrooge hurries them away, and she tries not to listen to the hushed explanation, the startled gasps, and she has to cover her ears for the rest. She can’t stand it.

It’s all her fault.

“DELLA!”

‘What?’

There’s no mistaking that voice.

Her head snaps up so fast she’s half sure she’s given herself whiplash. Even through blurred eyesight, she knows that silhouette, that outfit, that stupid hat. She blinks, sniffing and scrubbing at her face with her sleeve, hardly daring to believe.

It shouldn’t be possible, there’s no way it’s possible. She saw it, she saw him fall, saw the flash of lightning, the empty space where he had been only moments before. She watched her own brother die. So how was he standing ten feet in front of her, laughing as he’s tackled by several small and colourful blurs?

A hand appears in front of her face and she looks up into the stunned face of her uncle. He looks almost as much of a mess as she feels, tearstains tracking down his cheeks and spotting on his coat.

“I think it might be best if we just don’t question it,” he says, helping her to her feet.

His hands are shaking as he holds hers tightly, but she doesn’t comment; it can’t be any worse than her own trembling limbs. They turn back to Donald, who’s ended up sat on the floor under the collective weight of the kids. He’s got a tearful Louie on his shoulder and several kids wrapped around his torso as he struggles to his feet, and Della can see him mouthing a headcount as he takes them all in.

“I swear every time we see you, you have more children.”

She hadn’t even noticed Panchito and José just beside him, grins wide and eyes twinkling with amusement and, in José’s case, something else that she can’t quite place. Donald just laughs at Panchito’s observation, the sound sweet as honey and causing even more tears to well up all round. The pure relief that sweeps through her is almost enough to make her knees give way again, but Scrooge’s hand gripping hers and Beakley’s arm still around her shoulders is just enough to keep her grounded.

Then he catches her eye.

“Hey Dells.”

The kids must see something in her face, cause they have to good sense to dart out of the way just moments before Della hurls herself at her brother. They almost topple backwards, but Donald is able to keep them just about upright while Della just focuses on wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his shoulder. His arms circle her waist, holding her just as tightly. The tears are streaming freely now, but she’s beyond caring. He can yell at her about ruining his shirt later and she’ll just take it with a grin.

“You idiot!” she yells, her voice muffled by his shoulder, “I thought you were dead!”

“For a minute, so did I,” he says into her hair, “how about we just call it even?”

The soft jibe only makes her laugh, and she holds him just that little bit tighter.

Miracles do happen, and in the end all that matters is love, family and adventure.

But if he thinks she’s going to let him go galivanting off on some adventure without her now, then he’d better think again.

[rare-yanderes]

(F/H) =favorite hobby.

I have the weirdest crush on this freaking duck and I don’t know why, so I’m taking out my confusion on this matter by making him yandere. Sorry that this is so long, boring and slow but I’m a sucker for slow burns and just dislike instant love. This went from just from headcannons to a freaking long ass story. I think I’ll make more on how the reader reacts when they find out just how mentally fucked Scrooge became.

Who knows, maybe I’ll write one for good ol’ Flinty. I have a feeling he’d just drop kick any rival he spots without much qualms about it. Meanwhile, Scrooge has a full on psychological derailment.

TW: manipulation, dependent behavior, stalking, and more.

______________

•To be honest, the likelyhood of Scrooge turning into a yandere might be higher than you think. He’s capable of self defense and can fight. He literally hunts treasure for a living. He also has a trillion dollar stockpile sitting around begging to be used for cover ups. His determination is pretty crazy, and he’s seen a lot on his adventures, things that would kind of instill a paranoia over time or an unhealthy me mentality. He can easily hide behind a professional front. Oh, and if he so wanted, he could travel and bury any evidence under a volcano. :)

•Since this is a yandere AU or, I’m gonna go with the idea that this is a what if the show had a TV-14 rating as well, so much darker themes can link and be explored.

•After pretty much a century of adventure, most of which includes violence and fighting through perils, human or not so, Scrooge is desensitized to quite a bit of violence and the dark and greedy side of the world. He’s seen the best of people and also the worst. This plays majorly in anyone who becomes a yandere; how exposed they are to people’s bad side or their own dark tendencies.

•Scrooge himself is not perfect and has demonstrated some traits of greediness, paranoia, and general distrustful behavior which is perfectly reasonable considering his work and the things he exposes himself too during it.

•Even though he loves adventure, there are a lot of bad things that happen on them that he seems to bottle up or keep to himself. Bottling up things causes a negative buildup in anyone, especially Scrooge because he expects that loving his life’s work will repair the same damage it sometimes does to him.

•Most likely, Scrooge developed an affinity with you through your similar drive for adventure. Maybe you worked for him in some way and he saw you defend someone or maybe you outsmarted one of his adversaries on an adventure he decided to bring you on. Regardless, you’ve caught his attention and this is only the beginning.

•A rival love interest’s biggest mistake is mistaking his age for a weakness. One minute he’s complaining about someone being on his lawn, the other they’re buried under it.

•Scrooge would probably connect most if he’s seen that you used to be in his shoes before, or at least a similar situation. Maybe you’re struggling financially but working your ass off to stabilize your income. As someone with the humble origins of a shoeshiner, Scrooge understands perfectly. Despite his incredible stockpile of wealth, he knows what’s it’s like to be at rock bottom.

•At first, you’re probably obviously very suprised with Scrooge’s involvement in your life. He’s from an entirely different world than yours after all, the top of the pyramid. Depending on your origins, you might react quite differently. Currently, you managed to find yourself stuck in a job you hated, working for someone you despised. It was a miserable, repetitive job that brought to your life a void of boredom.

•You craved adrenaline, even if it would get you killed, you finally figured that at least you’d go out with a spark. Putting on a smiling face, you accept a position at McDuck industries thinking that it was going to be another office job. By your luck, (or, later on, unfortunate luck), you managed to score a position that required you to be near Scrooge quite often.

•This gave both of you time to acquaint with eachother and the opportunity for him to see the potential in you as an adventurer instead of just an employee. Scrooge rarely lets people in beyond family, and is quite reserved so he himself questions what he sees in you at first, distrusting you even.

•When you are taken on your first adventure, you nearly boil over with eagerness. There’s a worry at first of the treachery involved but eventually, as you venture on more and more explorations, that fear dulls and you think the adrenaline as far more important than the possible loss of your life.

•Craving adrenaline is the main reason at first as to why you to want to stay around Scrooge. Despite his repeated attempts to brush or push you away, you find yourself excited every time you get to explore and finally get to see a world that you thought you’d never visit.

•Still, Scrooge remains cold and you can’t figure out why beyond the reason that he’s just a pessimistic old capitalist. As much as you want the adrenaline, you kinda can’t help but eventually enjoy his presence as well despite his temper and general grumpiness. Having been alone for over two decades without friends does that to someone. You needed warmth again.

•Maybe you grew attached to all the times you felt you were winning when you snubbed an artifact. Also, after collecting and sneaking a few gold coins into your own pocket, you were finally getting out of debt and on track to actually start your own business involving (F/H). You had the dream that you could travel where you wanted and finally find peace from your own mind and problems.

•Scrooge, despite his own warnings to himself not to persue, can’t help but offer you a job working for him. You made adventuring a million times better and were a great addition to the team, providing your own perspective or plan for the times he and his family would journey out. Oh, and he’d finally get the opportunity to be around you more. It was refreshing to see how optimistic you managed to remain despite your current financial predicament. (Which he contemplated solving.)

•Soon, however, Scrooge began to see that you were not as happy go lucky as you pretended to be, at least not when you weren’t on another treasure hunt. Something appeared to be gnawing at you. Deep down inside, it appeared to plague you and Scrooge began to worry for your well being and as a too curious for his own good duck, he needed to know what was going on. Especially when he had caught you quickly wiping away tears while you began to head home. What could possibly be causing you this pain?

•He had to find out and to his own realization, he had to know now. After all the times you saved and helped him, he wanted to make sure you were at least doing alright in return. He ordered Launchpad to tail you home and Launchpad, oh so very loyal, doesn’t question it much.

•Most yanderes might suffer from the constant delusion that their victims love them back or that they’re in the right but that’s not the case with Scrooge. There are times where he does try to justify himself, but this is mainly due to a fit of rage or to play innocent to you. Most of the time, he knows his actions are wrong and the burning temptation is causing a war. Very early on, he suppresses his curiosity and the growing feelings he has about you. Especially when they begin to boil into something far darker. Although he’s done this to nearly everyone, being cold to you and pushing you away seemed to be his way of trying to ensure your well being instead of his. He was finding it hard not to think about you sometimes.

•Soon enough though, he begins to grow inquisitive about your personal life as you open up to him and define yourself as a person instead of another blur. You were always quite genuine to just sit around and talk to him and despite denying it to himself, Scrooge was lonely, especially after the Spear of Selene. Sometimes you’d joke to him, sometimes you’d think philosophically. Sometimes it was just a mutual, comfortable silence.

•Scrooge might make excuses aloud to you, but doesn’t lie to himself. All the times he’s made you work later or given you an extra dose of paperwork was because he wanted to keep you around and in his line of sight. 12 hours without you was turning into a painful reminder of how isolated he was, even with Beakley around. You were a warmth, a cool, calm warmth.

• “I’ll eventually need to know her address later on in case she’s attacked by one of my adversaries anyways.” Nope, Scrooge wasn’t fooling himself with that sentiment. He knew he was invading your privacy, but he also knew that he was too nosy to care enough.

•The main problem is that although Scrooge knows a lot of what he’s doing isn’t right, he begins to care less and less. (Though this process takes quite a while.) You’re a valuable and positive part of his life, you had stayed when everyone else had abandoned him for his admittedly awful mistakes. He can’t lose another person he treasures. Especially not you. You’re becoming the shiniest yet. Losing you might mean losing himself in some sense.

•Scrooge tries to shake off the guilt but only finds that maybe it’s better to punish himself by feeling it. He’s currently following along your path to wherever your destination currently is.

•Of course, his iconic shiny limousine would be a sore thumb sticking out to both you, the media, and Duckberg in general so he makes sure to either trail far behind or to have another mode of transportation available. Regardless, Scrooge never hires another person to watch you in place.

•Scrooge doesn’t even install cameras. He’d rather experience your life from his own two eyes and not as reported from another bird or screen. He rather liked tracking you himself. It gave him a place to go and at least he’d be able to bask in your duality himself. Sometimes you cried, he found to his own breaking heart. Sometimes you’d smile, (mostly only in his presence, to his delight.)

•Most of all, though, you seem caught in the present of life. Distracted, even. It seems though, that sometimes you’re so distracted that you don’t even notice something is off. Or maybe you yourself are too unable to break the cycle of adrenaline adventure to see it. Maybe you yourself were actively creating excuses, at least at first as to why you sometimes ran into Scrooge McDuck everywhere.

•If there’s something else Scrooge is a master at other than money, it’s with keeping up the detached and reserved persona of a wealthy individual. After all, who would suspect him of such crimes like these? He’s just a selfish, greedy businessman that only cares about his wealth, right? He’d never bother with other birds unless he was shaking hands at a conference table.

•Wrong. As you and him grow to become more like mentor and student, Scrooge begins to insert himself everywhere he possible can in your life, especially after seeing the shitfest that was your social group, what little of it there was. Apparently, you’d finally made a few friends over the years working for him and there was only one out of all of them that Scrooge approved of.

•Two of them, both identical Peacock twins appeared to be fascinated with your link to him and nothing more. It made some sense. After all, who could say they were a close worker to the richest duck in the world? The other one, a tall and lanky chicken, was getting far too handsy with you, and the final, a feline male was nothing but gossip and drama.

•To add to insult, you were a pretty big pushover outside of work which meant that they would drag you to places you didn’t even want to go and pressure you to have drinks you didn’t want to taste. They were in love with the mask you put up, not the complex and amazing face behind it. The one that you were beginning to let Scrooge see.

• Scrooge watches from a distance as your laugh reverberates. The laugh appears to Scrooge as unwavered and solid, mechanical in nature like it was a reoccurring script. Gazing at your face, he could see that your smile was strained, beak scrunched. You just wanted to go home and nothing more.

•The chicken next to you he was sucking a cigarette and the smoke blew in your direction, replacing your laugh with coughing and the others cackled with drunk glee, their solo cups tipping as they did. You blew it off as an accidental push in the wind which, by the way, wasn’t even blowing.

•Out of all of them, Scrooge hated the lanky chicken, who’s name he learned was Gale, the most. You deserved far better than that. Surely you saw through his sleazy act, right? Why were you hanging around such a ratched group of birds? Just how blind were you to their usage of you?

•Almost without even realizing it himself, Scrooge had tailed you the entire way home. After having to torment himself with an hour of seeing you torment yourself, he figured that maybe you’d find something that made you happy other thanyour little flock of “friends.”

•So he was admitting to being a stalker to himself. Did that mean he’d be able to admit it to oblivious ol’ you? Well, no. At least, not for now. Not until you trust him completely. Oh well, he’ll never go further than then that, right? He was watching you, but not engaging in any way. Nothing worse could come out of it..

•Wrong.

•After a while of having you working under him at McDuck Industries, Scrooge began to realize just how much financial control he had over you. Not only did you depend on him cod for paycheck, your landlord worked for someone who worked for him. In other words, the spot of land you were living on was an apartment company that belonged to him. You were living under one of his roofs. All he’d have to do was shift some circumstances and you’d either be homeless or debt free forever. Scrooge of course, plays the benevolent route and lowers it significantly for you. Why antagonize you?

•After having taken that action, Scrooge noticed more and more of a smile on your face as you realized that you didn’t have to depend paycheck to paycheck for food on the table. He had also been aware that you had a side hobby now, involving (F/H.) sometimes you joked you’d start a business and go off parting ways with that hobby. It was source of entertainment to watch you be..Well, you. There was this genuine behavior about you that just drew him in.

•If Scrooge wasn’t adventuring with you or at a meeting also with you, he was still with you. You just didn’t know it yet. Interestingly however, you’d begun to pick up the signs that there was a presence in your life. Whereas you didn’t close the blinds before, you did now. Or maybe that was from all the adventures you’d nearly died on fighting others off. Maybe it was paranoia.

•Eventually, Scrooge managed to break into your apartment under the guise to Launchpad that he’d been invited by you. A ludicrous lie, of course, but Launchpad is gullible to a fault when it comes to Scrooge. He’s loyal like that, and his friendliness to you plays into Scrooge’s emotional manipulation later on.

•As Scrooge sneaks in while you’re still home, he makes his way behind the kitchen counter which seperated your living room. He didn’t expect you to be right there in the living room, but you were, just five feet away from him and the window he snuck in. The window was to your right. He had carefully parted the curtains. Your couch was sitting approximately five feet from the window balcony, facing a corner of the wall with the T.V off.

•Peculiarly, you hadn’t even noticed he’d entered by rigging the door. You were right there, not staring at his direction, but he should have at least appeared in your peripheral. Just what were you doing to be so disconnected to the reality around you? It was worrying.

•Now hidden behind the counter directly to the left of you, he observes your desensitized form. For a moment, Scrooge thought you were a corpse until he peered closer. You were still there, physically. Mentally you looked as if you were in a whole other dimension. In a rather bold move, Scrooge slowly stands up and positions himself in the archway, watching you from his spot.

•You were still, so very still unlike all the times you’d fidget at work or with those “friends.” You still breathed and your hands shook slightly and there was color to your eyes but you yourself didn’t even seem present whatsoever. Your eyes were glazed and far away. It was just your body sitting there in that couch. It was worrisome and yet there was a blissful smile to your face seconds later.

•It was you, daydreaming about something. Something you obviously enjoyed. Scrooge, to his own shame, hoped it involved him. For a few more moments, all you did was sigh like you were meditating. It was haunting how easily you had lost yourself within the confines of your tumbling mind. Somehow, you were blocking out the world beyond, maladaptively.

• Scrooge knew he was taking a huge risk. All you’d have to do to spot him now was swivel your head a few inches or wake up from dreamland. It would take a few inches to ruin what you thought of him.

Just then, to Scrooge’s horror, you had slowly picked yourself off the couch. Your body shuttered as your head snapped up. He knew he was taking a huge risk with this and began to think that maybe it was a terrible idea after all. (Who was he kidding, it was terrible in the first place, he knew what he was doing.)

•He quickly fell back to his crouched position behind the counter, silently and expertly as you turned around and made your way closer and closer. There was a tense moment in which Scrooge contemplated just knocking you down completely and rendering you unconscious. All it would take was a few seconds. Maybe you’d forget or maybe he’d give you the dreamland you seemed so desperate to reach. It would certainly give him peace of mind to know where you are 24/7..All he’d have to do is knock you out and take you to the manor. You’d be secure and have everything you need there…

•Your presence was setting him alight, in the good way and bad way. He loved being near you. But hated the idea of you getting any closer right now, because you getting any closer would ruin your trust in him entirely. A few more steps is all there was between the idol you saw Scrooge as and the monster he was growing to be. You were like a fire. The heat scorched his feathers. Then, when you were away, his thoughts.

•Your steps were louder than they’d ever been. Then, to Scrooge’s unbelievable luck, you turned towards the hallway away from the kitchen. Scrooge knew not to push his luck trying to follow or stay, so despite his clawing urge to figure you out, he hesitantly snuck out with unanswered questions on your concerning mental state.

•It had been a months since that incident and Scrooge was moving onto bigger and bolder actions. Sometimes he’d swipe you away from any conversations you had with your friends by calling you in for a task. Sometimes he’d eat up all your time by keeping you in late, and taking you to places far away that required days of travel.

•Sometimes he’d drive bad influences away by financially ruining their life forever.

You noticed Gale’s downfall quickly, but you didn’t have any idea it was Scrooge who was responsible. Gale lived actually, three complexes from you and oh so suddenly, rent had begun to skyrocket in the particular room he had to himself. This led to him being presented with an eviction notice. You didn’t even have the chance to say goodbye. (Not that you wanted to, though.) deep down you were glad he was gone and Scrooge knew it. Gale had to move far off to find an affordable spot. It was a mercy considering how often Scrooge had dreamed of just throwing him into the ocean tied up for the sharks to find. He was a toxic influence.

•Maybe if someone pushed his button just right, Scrooge would end up killing them, and who would care? There were seven billion fellow people on the planet. Scrooge could just get rid of any threat he wanted and no one would notice or ever suspect it was him. After all, he’s just a grumpy old man with a cane.

•It turns out, Scrooge had picked up on your plans to possibly quit your job. He had never felt his heart sink like it did now. He was fighting off his initial shock as you stood in his office, masking it with a detached face. You hadn’t even confirmed the statement. All you’d said was that maybe you’d found a company within your favorite hobby.

•It was just a small implication. But, Implications could become statements, which could turn into actions, and Scrooge couldn’t let the thought even be a presence in your mind.

•You had stayed with him throughout the years of his loneliest moments, had confessed secrets, had confided in him. You were like his pupil, learning from him and you were like his partner, fighting alongside him. Maybe you were something different altogether.

•...Was it a friend that convinced you? It had to be. Scrooge knew how much you enjoyed galavanting around the world with him. There’s no way you’d just fly off without him.-

“I promise I’ll still occasionally go with you, Scrooge. (A first name basis. This was devolving from anything normal.) I found my passion. We can still adventure together, but I found a path that also makes me happy and doesn’t ya know, get me killed.” You chuckle as if it were nothing. A light joke.

•So you were leaving. You were going to go. Why? You had a great paycheck, (an expensive one that took a lot of money,) you had the opportunity to travel the world. You had the best job you’d ever get. Who else was going to be as good as him? He won’t let you destroy your future by applying for a Mediocre position at some dumptruck company.

•As it turns out, the bird responsible for swaying you was none other than one of the peacocks, her name was Shelby. She and you laughed, and for the first time, your laugh was genuine. Genuine with her and not with Scrooge. You both shared each other’s stories, and she in return had encouraged your little dangerous fantasy of being independent.

•Now of course Scrooge realized how ridiculous this all sounded. He had willingly allowed you to go on perilous adventures with him, but at least then, you were with him. How could he keep an easy eye on you if you just moved off to some rando spot? Plus, he was plenty good as saving you. He was your hero.

•Bad influences needed to go away.

•Scrooge might lie to himself about how much it digs under his feathers, but to see you around other people really dug wrong. He itched every time you decided to take advice from other people, or confide in them instead of him. He was the one you could go to, not them. Your secrets didn’t need to be shared with anyone else but Scrooge. All those rare and precious things that made you yourself didn’t need to be snatched by thieves like Shelby or Gale or whoever else.

•He knew that his criminal actions would scare you. Even with your growing trust and dependence on him, he knew it was too early for you to want to stay with him if you knew what he’s been doing. If he wanted your presence, he’d keep it through lengths you’d find terrifying.

•Scrooge found your biggest flaw was that you always attracted the wrong crowd, and it was primarily because you were always trying to impress others when they really didn’t deserve the magnificent canvas you painted yourself to be. To his even greater detriment, you were beginning to spend your time more and more with Shelby. The canvas you painted was beautiful, as always. But it wasn’t for him, and he found that he was not happy with this new development.

•Don’t you know people take advantage of kindness? It happened to him all the time and still does. It happened to you over and over and yet you kept venturing forth giving out your trust like it was nothing. The world is a sour place if you’re not careful. Cursed kilts, you were already naive about Gale. Who knows how badly future people would hurt you, even if they were well intentioned.

Scrooge could tell that, despite him insisting otherwise, you thought leaning on his shoulder was burdening him. He wanted to make sure you knew it was anything but that. As a matter of fact, he wanted you to lean on his shoulder every moment he possibly could get you to. What was just you occasionally asking for advice on impersonal things becomes entire sessions with Scrooge encouraging you to reveal every personal detail of your life.

•You had revealed that many times, you just wanted independence. A company of your own to possibly build so you could pursue life your own way. Scrooge knew these dangerous thoughts were one of the final roadblocks. Scrooge had to prevent them. Be it through roughening you up financially or discouraging you. Be it from murdering outside influences, too. Who was going to miss the miserable miscreants that plagued your life anyways?

•It is three days before the date you had decided that you would resign. Instead of being merry, you were miserable. The opportunity you had to get the job was burned by them not even calling you for an interview. After your resume, why would they reject you? You had the word of one of the finest businessmen out there to back you up. Scrooge himself promised to put in a good word for you! You were perfectly qualified for the job you were looking for. In your days of being rejected from the position you wanted, you confide in Scrooge. You don’t know it but as he pats your shoulder, he’s thinking of the next way to sabotage your efforts of leaving him.

•Shelby ends up going missing. She was one of your closest friends and the only one who finally treated you well. Your devastation causes a major setback in any ambitious plans as you isolate yourself from anyone else but only the closest person left in your life; Scrooge.

•Currently, you were enveloped in a warm hug, the side of your face leaning in the crook of Scrooge’s neck as he calmed your crying form down, patting your back and promising you his presence would remain forever. You wept at Shelby’s funeral, so did her twin sister and their parents, who, upon seeing Scrooge, had nearly fainted in shock.

•Despite your tumultuous relationship with Shelby, she had actually begun to redeem much of her previously antagonistic actions towards you. She was in a rough place when you had developed a connection with her. So you wept in your boss’s, or rather, your best confidantes arms. You wept.

Scrooge, however, did not.

[lettheladylead]

The Golden Heir Chapter 7 - Family [Ch1] [Ch2] [Ch3] [Ch4] [Ch5] [Ch6] [Ch8]

Goldie didn’t know what to do. She thought Scrooge would’ve found a way out of this nonsense by now!

Watching Black Heron perish hadn’t been the treat she always imagined it would be. It’d been terrifying, instead, as Goldie watched the villain disappear into a bright red light. Next it could be her. It could be Twenty-Two or Della or Donald, who were kneeling next to her and looking just as helpless and scared.

But instead of finding a loophole or taking down Bradford in a surprisingly suave swoop, Scrooge was just mumbling over this paperwork and trying to buy time. Goldie knew stalling when she saw it and just hoped that meant Scrooge had some sort of back-up plan in the works.

“You need some incentive!” Bradford said angrily after sending a blast of energy towards Scrooge. “Perhaps the life of your most trusted ally?”

Goldie breathed a sigh of relief, happy to know that wasn’t anywhere near her role in Scrooge’s life. She did, however, immediately fear for Donald, and struggled a bit against her chains as did Beakley and Della.

He skulked over to Donald and picked him up like he was a toy, holding him over the vortex without hesitation.

“Donald!” Scrooge screamed as Donald cried and shook in fear.

Goldie stared at the scene before her and felt her eyes start to water. She knew, realistically, this wasn’t her fault. Bradford’s beef with Scrooge had nothing (mostly nothing?) to do with her. But she led them to Dickie. If she had to guess, they probably used Dickie to get that Papyrus. If she’d just let Black Heron kill her, they wouldn’t have been able to get it.

“What will it be, Scrooge? Adventure? Or your family?”

She looked down at Scrooge. He was going to find a way out of this, wasn’t he?

“You have til the count of five. One…”

“Alright, I’ll do it.”

Goldie looked stunned. She’d never seen him give up so quickly. She’d never seen him give up at all before...except when it came to her. Surely this had to be part of his plan...he couldn’t give up adventuring. That was everything to him.

“No, don’t! Find a way out!” Donald screamed, still struggling in Bradford’s grasp. “You can beat him!”

“...it’s not worth the risk, lad,” Scrooge said softly, taking out a pen.

Goldie watched in awed silence as Scrooge signed the Papyrus. Adventure was such a vague term. If he couldn’t go on any kinds of adventure - nothing magical or mystical or worldly or secret...then she didn’t know where she stood. She could still go wherever she wanted, but it wasn’t worth it without him.

No one made a sound as Scrooge was surrounded by magical yellow light and he floated up into the air. He gasped as the Papyrus’ chains wrapped themselves around him and slowly forced him back to the ground. Goldie and the others just watched in miserable realization...the bad guy had won.

“I did it!” Bradford said happily. “The great Scrooge McDuck, now only a poor old man!”

Scrooge had never looked so defeated. Goldie felt her heart break.

“Normally I wouldn’t indulge in petty villainy, but since this is a special occasion…”

Bradford dropped Donald towards the vortex, laughing evilly as the duck tumbled towards oblivion, while Scrooge and Della screamed out in shock and pain. Goldie felt numb as she watched a duck she’d known for so long - and known as one of the kindest, genuinely well meaning people she’d ever met - head for an untimely death.

“Ow!”

“...ow?”

“Ow?”

Goldie blinked and leaned over the edge to see the vortex had disappeared and Donald had managed to get free of his chains. She wanted to revel in the joy of seeing one of her favorites of the McDuck family still alive, but as the red triplet’s voice reached her ears, Bradford was already back on his plan.

“No! No more adventures!” he screamed down at the kid - and she wondered who else was down there with him - before diving past the three ducks still chained on the ledge and drawing his sword with intention clear.

Scrooge screamed out and Goldie closed her eyes. She couldn’t save him this time. He was going to die and all she could do was sit there and listen.

Instead, she heard the clang of metal against metal.

“Get away from my grandpa!”

Goldie’s eyes widened and she struggled against her chains, shuffling her legs to move closer to the stairs so she could see what the hell was happening. Beakley and Della followed suit, clearly curious as to what was going on.

“Wait, what?!”

She looked down and saw exactly what she feared: Dickie was not just in danger, and not just with Scrooge, but she was holding a broken cane up to a giant magical sword wielded by a homicidal maniac. That was the opposite of the safe, danger-free lifestyle she’d tried to give her.

Webby and Dewey immediately flew down and kicked Bradford in the face, giving Dickie time to get away from him and rush towards Scrooge.

“You need to get out of here!” Dickie shouted, tugging on his arm.

Scrooge just struggled against the magical chains that disappeared and reappeared over and over again. “I can’t!”

As Louie ran around to grab the contract off the ground, Bradford gave chase and Dickie stayed with Scrooge to keep trying to get him to move. She watched helplessly as the kids ran for their lives and Gyro, Gandra, and Ludwig got blasted by a painful-looking blast of energy.

As Bradford transformed, Goldie, Della, and Beakley managed to wrangle their way out of their chains and the two McDuck Manor residents immediately rushed towards the villain, ready to fight for their lives. Goldie, on the other hand, tossed her chains to the side and rushed towards Dickie, who was visibly shaking in fear while still trying to stay strong for Scrooge.

“Lass, you need to get out of here,” Scrooge said to her sternly.

Dickie shook her head and sobbed. “But I just...I just learned about you now, I can’t lose you already!”

Scrooge looked both confused and sad at the strangely familiar teenager crying over him and wished he could reach out and comfort her somehow. As he opened his beak to say something, he was cut off by a voice he hadn’t heard in weeks.

“Dickie!” Goldie shouted, suddenly grabbing the girl by her wrist. “You need to get away from here! Come on!”

The teen didn’t fight as Goldie pulled her away, running in the opposite direction of Bradford’s fighting. Goldie glanced back at Scrooge with a sad, guilty expression, and Scrooge stared back incredulously. “Goldie?!”

As they ran away from the fight, Bradford flew over Scrooge and the kids and started powering up the sword for one final, deadly attack. Dickie pulled her arm out of Goldie’s grasp and stood her ground. “We can’t run away!”

“Yes, we can, they’ll be fine!” Goldie shouted, trying to grab her granddaughter’s arm again. “They’re the McDucks! They can take care of themselves!”

“But...I’m a McDuck, too!” Dickie said angrily, taking a step back.

Goldie stared at her sadly, then looked behind her to see Donald protecting Scrooge with a piece of the vortex chamber that fell apart. She looked back at Dickie and gave her a small smile. “...yeah, you are. And no kid of Scrooge’s is gonna run away from a fight, huh?”

Dickie smiled and reached out a hand, which Goldie grabbed with only a smidge of hesitation. They ran towards the rest of the family and joined them in holding up the one thing protecting Scrooge from death.

Goldie didn’t think about how it felt to be working alongside the family she’d known and avoided for so many years. She didn’t want to think about how long she’d kept Dickie from this group of people who would do absolutely anything for the people they considered family. How Goldie had never been a part of that before, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be a part of it now.

Louie and Huey ran up to join them and huddled over the contract.

“The only way to break the Papyrus’ spell...is to find a contradiction on the Papyrus!”

“This contract’s air-tight! Scrooge only gets his family if he gives up adventure!”

The four kids who’d spent the last few years together echoed a simultaneous DING! before Huey took the lead again.

“Bradford! Your contract is flawed!”

The buzzard stopped in his attack. “What? Impossible!”

The shield went down and Goldie backed away, feeling the confidence radiating from Scrooge’s kids. They’d won and he was going to be alright...and she didn’t need to be there any longer.

“I worked on that contract for thirty years! Went over it with the finest tooth combs!”

Goldie took another look at Dickie’s back before turning to make her usual silent escape.

“According to this, Scrooge can be with his family as long as he doesn’t adventure!”

Completely by accident, she lifted her head and made eye contact with Scrooge, who was cycling between hopeful and desperate and tired and confused. She couldn’t look away from him. Her heart pounded in her chest like it never had before.

“But family is the greatest adventure of all!” Huey shouted.

“That’s...the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. There’s no way that-”

Goldie turned back towards the rest of the family and Bradford, her feet refusing to move, and witnessed the Papyrus float into the air and disintegrate into nothing.

Bradford screeched in agony and reached out for the pieces of the contract, dropping the sword and sending one final blast towards the family. Goldie didn’t even have time to react as she realized the blast was headed right towards Dickie and Webbigail.

Scrooge, on the other hand, finally broke free of his magical chains and rushed towards the girls, tackling them both to the ground just as the blast singed the top of his hat.

Goldie breathed a sigh of relief as Scrooge and the girls nodded at each other before getting up to enjoy Bradford’s angry screams.

“I will not lose to Scrooge!”

“You didn’t lose to me,” Scrooge said with a confident smirk. “You lost to my family!”

“All of them.”

Goldie turned around to see a variety of people all walking up to stand behind Scrooge both physically and emotionally. She looked at him and felt an unfamiliar sense of pride mixed with her usual complicated feelings of love and adoration. He looked good in that moment. Strong and sincere. She knew she’d softened up quite a bit after spending time with Sharpie, but seeing Scrooge and his family standing tall together was making her heart do backflips.

Dickie walked over to Goldie and grabbed her hand, smiling softly. “Thanks for staying, Granny.”

Goldie rolled her eyes and scoffed, ignoring the conversation between Bradford and some familiar faces in Scrooge’s life and choosing to focus on how nice it felt to be with people she loved. Maybe she could stand to do it more often.

They both looked up to see Scrooge talking to Webby, who proceeded to hug him tight and then point directly at the two blondes. He looked back down at the girl he’d known for so long - his clone, apparently, which was giving him all sorts of confusing feelings - and then back up at the girl he’d never met before.

Goldie felt an urge to get away before this confrontation that she never wanted to have, but Dickie held tightly onto her hand and wouldn’t let go. Scrooge walked over to them and smiled.

“...grandpa?”

Dickie smiled awkwardly and let go of Goldie’s hand to wrap her arms around herself. “...yeah, um...my name’s Dickie. It’s nice to meet you!”

He looked over at Goldie who was avoiding his eyes, but when she felt his hand wrap around two of her fingers and tug her a bit closer to him, she couldn’t keep herself from him. Too much had happened for her to just walk away...she had to make it right.

“...surprise?” she said with a small smile.

Scrooge breathed out a short laugh and pulled both of them into a big hug. Dickie hugged back without hesitation, but Goldie’s face turned red and she stuffed her face into his shoulder to avoid looking at anyone else. She was fine with PDA but only when she was the one initiating it. The loved feeling he was giving her was overwhelming.

She looked up to see Louie and Webby and Della and Donald giving her similarly smirky smiles and Goldie sighed before finally wrapping her free arm around Scrooge’s back and holding him close. She loved him so, so much and was so happy he was safe. But there was no way she’d say something that sappy, so maybe a hug would be enough.

He finally pulled away from them and smiled happily, one of his hands still intertwined with Goldie’s. “Come back to the manor. Both of you,” Scrooge said.

Goldie looked down at their hands and then up at Dickie, who was clapping her hands in excitement. Dickie cheered, “I’ve always wanted to see the inside of that place! It looks awesome!”

The older woman sighed, but she couldn’t pretend to be annoyed. “...alright. Sure.”

Scrooge smiled brightly and leaned forward, capturing Goldie’s beak in a sudden kiss that it made her cheeks light up in embarrassment. He pulled away as fast as he started, but gave her a look that made her think going back to the manor would be the best decision of her life.

He let go of Goldie’s hand and looked back at the rest of his family. “We do need to talk, Goldie Girl. But...it’s been a long day.”

“You have no idea how long of a day it’s been,” Goldie mumbled, thinking back to her weeks of imprisonment.

“So we’ll talk tomorrow,” he said softly. “And...Dickie?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s nice to meet you, too.”

[gravityfallsweirdgirl]

Ducktales 17 Darkwing Headcanon idea 4: drake goes super overprotective dad mode

At the mcduck mansion, drake and Scrooge were negotiation each other about Launchpad.

They were in the living room and drake thought about his offer but shook his head.

Drake: nope sorry but I won’t agree

Scrooge: ugh you are a stubborn one

drake

drake: I’m sorry but I won’t hurt Launchpad, unlike someone

Scrooge then remember that he had a daughter.

Scrooge: well then what about gosalyn

drake: huh

Scrooge: she is friends with the kids, and since she’s good friends with webby wouldn’t that mean Launchpad comes back to mcduck mansion so she can play with the others

drake was about to say something but he then thought about gosalyn.

Drake: alright mr. Mcduck, Launchpad her era to cone back to work on one condition

Scrooge: ugh alright what is it

Drake: you treat him better

He gets up and holds his hand out.

Drake: deal

Scrooge looks at him hand, smile mischievously and gets up.

Scrooge: deal

But before they could shake on it, webby, violet, may, June and Lena came in running in a panic, with a terrifying look on their faces but a guilty look on webby’s face.

Scrooge: webby what happened girls

Earlier today Gosalyn was asked to hang out with the girls, drake looked around looking for her only to find me gone.

Drake: where Gosalyn

Lena: well she-eh-um

Webby had a look Louie had on that timephoon incident then she yelled.

Webby: THE BEAGLE BOYS GOT HER

Drake made a furious look as he clutches his fist, ge didn’t look happy:

Drake: WHAT

Webby: we accidentally left her alone at funsos

Ms. Beakley: webby how could you abandon her like that

drake watch the grandmother scold webby then realized he was wasting time, he gad no time to change so ge ran out to get Gosalyn.

Ms. Beakley: webby I’m most disappointed in you

Webby made a sad look.

Scrooge: well I say she’s done a good job

Ms. Beakley: what

Scrooge: excellent job webby

Ms. Beakley realized that Scrooge asked webby to abandon gosalyn purposely and webby knows it was wrong.

Webby: but dad, this is wrong and you know it

Scrooge: bah

Ms. Beakley: you could just let Launchpad be happy would you

Launchpad overheard everything.

Launchpad: what why would you do that Scrooge

Scrooge: it’s what’s best for you Launchpad

Launchpad: best me (he frowns angrily) or best for you

Scrooge: you need to know that how can you be with a man who can’t save his own daughter

Launchpad: you really are a selfish duck

Ms. beakley: you are a cruel duck Scrooge, come on we need to go help him and when I come back, you’re grounded webby

Scrooge, Della, Launchpad, Ms beakley and Scrooge went to help rescue Gosalyn, while webby was feeling guilty and sorry for what she’s done back at Funso's Fun Zone.

Gosalyn was in the hands of the beagle boys.

Gosalyn: ugh (grunts) let me go or my dad is going to make you sorry

Bouncer was holding her upside-down.

Beagle boys: (evil laughing)

Bouncer: aw no is daddy gonna hurt us (laughing)

Gosalyn: ugh

Burger: I think it’s time she swam with the fishes

Bouncer held her above the ocean, she eyes open wide in fear, then bouncer saw how scared she was and decided to torment her.

Bouncer: (chuckles)

Gosalyn: (gasp)

Then he throws in the air and catch before she could fall in the watery grave.

Gosalyn:ah!!

Bouncer: (snickering)

Then he held the back of her hoodie with his thumb and index finger, getting ready to drop her, no joke this time, she grabbed onto his arm.

But before he could drop her, big time beagle made a terrifying look.

Big time beagle: uh guys

Drake: hey let her go!!!!

They turned to see a furious drake.

Gosalyn: (whimpering)

Bouncer turned around and laughed, he didn’t see drake as a threat…yet.

He puts gosalyn high in a tree and walks slowly towards drake and bends down to him.

Bouncer: or what, what are you gonna do daddy, (baby talks) are you gonna hurt me

He press his big fat finger on his chest and when he kept it there, drake snapped, he glared at him and went Donald Duck nuts on bouncer.

He grabbed his finger and twisted it.

(Crack)

Bouncer: ah (wincing)

Then he gets on his back and pulls his arm up, sliding it up and twisting it again.

Bouncer: AH!!!!

Big time and burger were terrified and backed away then drake let’s bouncer go, walks towards the two beagle boys and he cracks his knuckles.

Beagle boys: (gulp)

Back with Ms. beakley and the others.

Scrooge: Ms. beakley honestly I don’t see why this is such a big deal

Ms. Beakley: Scrooge you don’t see how bad this is, you put an innocent young girl in danger

Scrooge: I’m sure she’s fine

Ms. Beakley: I just hope those hooligans haven’t done anything to get or done much pain to mr. Mallard

Della: I don’t think we need to worry about that

Scrooge/beakley: huh

They saw Della hiding behind a bush, got down and were shocked to see drake fighting the beagle boys single-handedly.

Drake: (grunts)

Big time swing his fist at him but drake moved and he grabs him by the shoulders swing him around and threw him into a pile of trash.

Big time: ah-oh

Then he turns to burger and kicks him with his feet.

Burger: ugh

They were all surprised but amazed.

Ms beakley: wow, that was amazing, I wonder if he can reach me that

(Blow punch)

Drake: YA

Della: is there nothing he won’t do for that girl, he’s unstoppable, he’s invincible, he’s-

Launchpad: well yeah he cares about gosalyn, he’d do anything for her, he loves her kinda like

Della: how we love the kids

Launchpad: exactly

he turns to Scrooge as he made a guilty look when Launchpad scolds at him.

Launchpad: you see mr. Mcdee he can take care of himself as much as he can take care of gosalyn

Scrooge: launchpad I-

Launchpad: save it

After drake finishes beating up burger, he was getting an unexpected surprise by ma.

Ma beagle: HEY

He turns around to see her, she walks towards him.

Ma beagle: how dare you hurt my boys

She raises her crane about his hit his head when he forcefully grabs it, takes it away and snaps it in front of her.

(Crack)

She saw the angry look in his eyes and she backed away.

Drake: go

She rubs away, her boys regain consciousness and saw him looking back at them.

Drake: the same goes with the rest of you

Beagle boys: AH!

they all ran away.

Drake: AND IF I EVER SEE YOU HARM MY DAUGHTER AGAIN I’LL MAKE SURE TO MAKE IT LOOK LIKE A ACCIDENT

After they all ran, Gosalyn fell from dangling From the tree and landed in his arms.

Gosalyn: AH!!!

Gosalyn/drake: whoa

He caught her, she looks up at him, smiling nervously.

Gosalyn: (nervous laughter) hi, I got lost and-

Just then hugs her tight, she was surprised but returns the back.

He nuzzled his beak against her hair.

Drake: are you okay

Gosalyn: I’m good now

Drake: good we’re Leaving

They walked away from the fun zone, he was still carrying her.

Gosalyn: you know I can walk right

drake: I’m not taking any chances

They then got in the car, drake putting her in the backseat.

Then he saw Launchpad standing in between them.

Drake: Launchpad we’re leaving

Launchpad: ok

Della: what?

Scrooge: launchpad wait

drake got in the passenger seat as Launchpad went to the front seat Scrooge stopped him.

Scrooge: launchpad please

Launchpad: I’m leaving mr. Mcduck

Scrooge: can you please listen

But he didn’t listen instead he got in the car.

Launchpad: goodbye mcduck

Then drove off it left everyone feeling down.

[aaandbackstabbed]

Heron: Is there any one here who’s actually straight?

Beakley: *puts her hand up*

Goldie:*shaking her head puts her hand back down*

[sergeant-history]

The Anitrix

 Beakley slammed her fist on the table, Steelbeak whimpered.

 "You captured my granddaughter and my honourary grandson! What do you think I'm going to do? Not interrogate you?" She scowled

 "Please! All I wanted was recognition!" He pleaded. Beakley wasn't buying anything.

 "Where are the plans to unite F.O.W.L?" She pointed, almost flipping the entire table over.

  Steelbeak continued to whimper, he got smarter over the years, reading the sacred martial artist books of Alexandria.

 Still, he was no match for Beakley. That was going to change, however. "Webbigail!" She called, with Webby opening her closet. "Granny?" She asked.

 "Take care of this... idiot for me. I need to get some equipment." Finding Webby still slightly weaker in the arts than her grandmother, Steelbeak tried, this was his only chance for escape.

 He looked at her, after the closet closed he started "So, how are you and that... Dewey's been doing." He raised an eyebrow, only to be met with hand slams on the table by Webby.

 "We don't talk about Dewford Duck... He's not within your area, Do you understand Mr?" She closened up, almost terrifying the steel out of his beak.

 "Correct." The Harp sang, smirking at the disgraced villain.

 He merely grumbled. Webby picked up his gauntlet, examining the build and structure of it.

 It had a circle plate in the middle, it was entirely red with black color schemes on it. With its sides were tubes that seemed to contain some sort of genetic material within.

 She glared at the Chicken, finally opening her mouth "So How'd you... build this?" She asked. The Harp looked at him, getting ready to foil any tricks up his sleeves with truth and honesty.

 Steelbeak shrugged "I already had the basics, all I did was add in some minor touches." The Harp glared at him "He's Fibbing." Her usual sing-songy voice became that of one with a serious tone, sharper than Scrooge's.

 Steelbeak chuckled as Webby pulled out her blaster, equipped with a laser gun, capable of burning through the skin, bone, flesh, feathers, and even Steel.

 "Fine! I made the plate so I can choose between Animals by arranging them in those tubes. It was a slow process but now, inside of that plate, with every turn, you'd have 1 choice which the Hologram will show." The Harp nodded, still glaring fiercely at Steelbeak.

   Being as wreckless as Dewey, Webby placed the gauntlet onto her right wrist, as the colors changed, into Pink, purple, and a slight hint of blue.

 "Woah." Steelbeak gasped, the entirety of the Plate too turned Pink with a Pink Bow in the center.

 She turned it, revealing different types of animals. "A Unicorn?!?" She gasped, making Steelbeak shake his head. "Wha? That's impossible! I didn't add the DNA sample of that." The Harp nodded.

 She spun it 9 times, revealing 9 other holograms including a Koala Bear, a Butterfly, a Cat, a Fox, a Cheetah, a Duck?, a Canary, a Dophin, and a weasel.

 Beakley reopened the door, noticing Webby already getting a hold of Steelbeak's weapon. "I think I'll call it... the Anitrix." She said. Beakley glared at Steelbeak again, this time with the harp, he felt knives charging at him.

 "Tell her how does it work," Beakley demanded, placing down injection tubes filled with radioactive yet somehow contained liquid.

 Steelbeak sighed "It alters your DNA with the selected being, allowing you to take the form of the animal but also retaining your sanity, experience, and memories." The Harp nodded to Beakley but Webby was all too interested in the gauntlet to pay any attention.

 "Webbigail, I trust you to use it but after your now shortened 3 days of being grounded." The young female nodded, walking off almost right after.

 Beakley then turned back to the Chicken who was exactly what the term 'chicken' meant.

 "I wonder what the others will have if they wear it." She tapped her chin, wondering about the animals the others would acquire.

 "Dewey would probably get something like a shark, Huey... Owl or something smart, and Louie... maybe an elephant? or a Monkey?" She thought, shaking those off before admiring her own animal selection dial.

[callme--starchild]

I Could Do About Anything

Della was able to see all angles, she was sure of that since she was a child. She couldn't remember if it was a skill that she had always had or that she developed as she grew up, but it was undeniable that it was there. Also, there were other possibilities that the sight of it offered her, and that was to read people, particularly her brother.

Of course, there were non-believers (including Donald himself) who claimed otherwise, and there were others who argued that it was because they were twins that Della was able to know what he thought, and that was partially true. Because while there were times when they found themselves thinking the same thing, the truth was that both also worked individually, and Donald himself was a different world from her.

A world that was commonly incomprehensible to many, including her. Not exactly because of the way her brother speaks, but because of the way he acts. It was not a secret that they were completely opposite, even Della had heard such comments since they were in high school, and she knew that he did as well because of the erratic way in which his behavior changed despite remaining like the typical shy boy from the corner.

Perhaps that was why she had sensed the discomfort of her twin throughout the journey, even if she was a few kilometers from him and even if she turned her back to him, as if it were a gentle breeze brushing her feathers and fiddling with her clothes. Her gaze remained focused on the sky, a path that she recognized on the way and that she recognized back; however, a part of her was focused on the conversations that were going on behind her. Goofy chatted with the children, Max's name popping over and over with such a familiar fondness that it left an emptiness in the pilot's stomach,

(Especially since it reminded her of her brother while talking about the triplets, but it didn't make sense: would Goofy have a child?

Her brother always got on better with him than her, but she had always known him as a loving guy, and surely she would have known of a child before she had taken the Spear of Selene; particularly what will his wife be like? She must be very gallant if she, again, had managed to conquer Goofy of all people.

Which, in turn, made her wonder about Mickey and Minnie, because so far the only clue she has had since her return has been that melon that Donald had with him on the island and—)

on the other hand, and now that she had stopped talking to LP, she could hear her brother having a pleasant conversation with Agent— Beakley. And though Della couldn't figure out what they were talking about, her hands were shaking on the wheel. Because Donald's desire kept tickling her mind.

Specifically, on his reason for asking it.

Not having to worry about the family being captured or lost.

"Della." Her uncle's calloused hands on hers made her blink, and she returned to focus on the flight — much to the extent that Launchpad took care of it to her apparent distraction, though she did let her uncle know that she was listening to him with a gesture, "are ye okay? Ye've bin very… quiet since we got on the plane."

In fact? No. At least, not quite. Lost, lost. Lost. The word poked at her brain incessantly, and it frustrated her.

Della cherished having discussed the Spear's topic with the children, and having her uncle's support despite yelling at each other — it was to be expected, though, with their tempers. However, she acknowledged that she still owed her twin a conversation; not only about the rift that she had formed between them a decade ago, but also about the time when he was the one who was on the moon and her apparent disinterest when he told her through that bizarre melon. Her brother had always been someone who refused to talk, particularly if it involved his feelings, but he had even refused to speak after the invasion and it made her stomach clench.

Lost.

Della knew she was lost even when she returned to her home. From the terrible second impression with her uncle to the relationship with her kids. She had no idea how to be a mother, she had barely read a thing or two even when she was waiting for the triplets because her thoughts were more focused on the world behind that stardust she saw through her window after every adventure, and when she landed on the Moon her priority had been to repair the rocket and return to Earth. Instead, her brother had read all the books on parenting the moment he discovered that she was waiting, and even she could claim that he had been made from other sources that she was still unaware of to date.

Her mind had always been in the clouds and that had led her to be stranded in space without being able to develop her motherhood. But Donald had always been on Earth, being the father and mother of her sons; But having wished Gene for a normal and perfect family, she had a feeling that perhaps it could be something more.

"Yeah, yeah, Uncle Scrooge," she said in a distant voice; though she knew she had been slow to respond, her uncle's concerned expression confirmed it once she returned to concentrating enough on the vast stage in front of her, “but I need to think a few things. Launchpad, would you mind continuing the flight to the mansion?"

Of course, the other driver was an incarnate sunbeam, and he only responded with a thumbs up and a smile without reciting any words or questions before taking the wheel again.

But no matter which direction her mind took, they all came to the same conclusion: she should speak to Donald soon.

It was with that thought in mind that she headed for the houseboat, feeling her shoulders grow heavier as she approached. The triplets and Webby were watching TV, and she had literally seen Beakley in the kitchen not long ago. Scrooge had retired to his office with Isabella's journal and Duckworth was away, doing ghost things; ergo, there was no one who could interrupt her during her conversation with her self-proclaimed best friend, but that did little to relax her and, otherwise, made her tenser. Not just because it wasn't a secret that Donald was more emotional, the lamp incident had proved it to her, but because with their infamous temperaments it was a lousy combination in case the situation got out of control, what if …?

When she was least aware of it, her metal foot stepped onto the hatch that gave her access to the boat. And even though she knew it was more sensible to go to the door and knock, especially remembering how strict her brother had been about his privacy from their distant adolescence — that, on second thought, it made no sense when it came to Donald because: what could he hide from everyone that required a dress code that never existed? —, the truth was that she was very impatient to discuss this issue to walk the deck only to go to the bow and also wait to be attended.

No. If she was going to do this she was going to do it now, and with that conviction, she raised the hatch.

"Donald, listen. I know I'm coming unannounced, but you and I have to…" Down the stairs, her words died in her throat when she saw the aforementioned accompanied by… a strange-looking duck, who had also become tense at her presence. They appeared to be looking at a framed photo, but the abrupt way in which they parted, as if they had been caught doing something wrong, did not go unnoticed.

This puzzled Della much more than expected, perhaps due to the fact that...

"Dumbella! I told you to knock.” Donald was really calm, when he used to be on the alert for a visit from any stranger. If that in itself was strange, he just looked a bit annoyed at her sudden entrance.

"Don't worry, D," however, his features seemed to relax when said stranger addressed him, approaching to murmur something that caused him to stifle a laugh. That definitely didn't twist something in his stomach.

Her brother looked relaxed, off guard, more cheerful than she could remember, and it took the pilot out of focus on the reasons that brought her to the houseboat in the first place. Sure, she remembered seeing him like this during junior high and high school with Mickey and Goofy, or in college with José and Panchito; but right now there was something in his gaze that she was unable to define.

Particularly, there was the fact that her brother used to chat about the antics he did with his friends all the time, and the visits did not wait when they were in the mansion on an almost daily basis, not to mention the multiple sleepovers that her little brother did per week.

In one way or another, they had adopted a small place under their roof, allowing her to know and grow fond of them, even if they got on better with her twin.

But this guy? She didn't recall Donald mentioning an outrageously dressed mallard, not even in a slip; there were no antecedents, there were no visits. Still, his calm in the face of this unfamiliar new face tickled the back of her neck, and she didn't like it.

"Er…" She cleared his throat, and it seemed that they too had been pigeonholed into their little bubble. There was also the look that this guy gave her at all times, as if he was watching her and reproaching her for some reason she did not know. "Donnie? Don't think I'm planned to be rude, but who is he?"

Having to fight her willpower not to point him out because Donald would scold her for the rudeness, she instead pointed her eyes at him, and the frown of her strange companion didn't soften - at least, not with her. That did less to reassure her, especially considering the way her brother's eyebrow arched in confusion, at least until he met his partner's gaze and his face lit up in an unusual way, and it lit a small sparkle in the pilot's gaze.

"Oh, where are my manners?" he exclaimed with a small blush blurring the feathers of his cheeks, and her desire to make fun of him increased but she was held back when she noticed that Donald was really sorry and her conversation with him continued in a pendulum.

"Easy, Ol-Don," he cleared his throat, letting his hand rest on the sailor's shoulder for a second, though of course, it would be enough for him to relax, before addressing her again with a serious face, all traces of complicity that he seems to have with her twin fading away.

And judging by the way his eyes widened, he noticed it too.

"Uno Ducklair, Donald's old friend. Nice to meet you.” His voice had certainly turned strict, enveloping in a dark aura that mystified Della as he shook her hand, with a smile that might look real if not for her keen eyesight.

She wasn't sure if the other duck in the residence would have noticed, but it seemed to be eyeing the blissful Uno with an indecipherable expression. Most disconcerting was the way he tried to hide his outstretched arm from her brother, as if he were trying to protect him.

But from who?

"Erm, I'm... Della Duck, Donald's sister. I'm sorry for the… intrusion, but I didn't know my brother was expecting visits" and she was really sorry, considering they both seemed to be in the middle of a chat when she arrived "nice to meet you."

Before shaking her hand with the mallard's, she sighing aloud at the grasp.

"Wow, you really have a strong hand, huh?" Laughing nervously, she heard her brother reproach her in the background.

But Uno knew.

Uno knew he wouldn't find himself in the Ducklair Tower again until years later as Odin Eidolon, when Donald and his adventures as Paperinik, as well as the friends and enemies they had made along the way, were nothing more than a vague memory in the abandoned lair. However, there he was: the tower reviving while he was reactivated and his data was transferred, the memories that he had kept hidden from his creator becoming overwhelming during the moments in which he became accustomed again to the environment that was the hiding place that once witnessed the tommyrot of two partners who saved the city and saw Anxieties in their spare time.

Uno knew that the first image in his database after that memorabilia was Donald's face, cheerful and full of life, always telling bad jokes as he faced Evronians and the misadventures of daily life. The glint in his gaze as he thought of the future with his nibling, who would later become nephews. And Uno knew that he should appreciate that look again, being almost instantaneously that he looked for his old fellow in the system while his arms were in charge of giving the last details to the body that had begun with so much care before being deactivated.

He had missed him, he had to confess. He was not ignorant that many of the machines of the time of his partner of crime were incapable of feeling any emotion; but after meeting Lyla and himself learning about them after his friend, that stereotype had been erased from his data or, in Donald's words, thrown out the window.

As he polished the finishing touches to what would be the new recipient of his data, he hadn't gone unnoticed the adding of some Gizmoduck and Darkwing Duck as saviors of the city. And though he found the absence of Paperinik alarming, that concern was forgotten the second he found the whereabouts of said vigilante.

In just a few minutes, an Artificial Intelligence had given way to an android that was heading to the McDuck Manor. That, while he took in every detail, feel, and color that the city was from a new perspective.

But as an AI, Uno's data was collected, and he was able to remember.

And he remembered every afternoon they watched every episode of Anxieties, new or old, while they both tried to disguise the effect that Saxony Starbright had on them and made a few comments about the plots and absurd twists that the writers made even if they used to be on the edge of the seat at such absurd twists like the hypocrites that they were.

He remembered every mission he did alongside Paperinik, being his eyes and ears in the tower as the hero took care of the casual villains and the Evronians in his umpteenth futile attempt to increase his army, as both would joke about it later while he checked the little scrapes and bruises between his feathers.

But he also remembered those wounds that were not generated by the occupational hazards, those occasions when Donald had to work harder and not smarter due to the adventures he faced every day in the company of his sister and his uncle. Those moments when he limped into the secret apartment, refusing to be checked to retire to put on the suit of his second job despite the reprimands he gave while Donald was dressing or when the situation was resolved, when the hero was too mentally and physically exhausted to fight the worrying intelligence.

When Donald was on the brink of hypothermia from some magical ice he was on.

When he came in exhaling a cocoa scent and trailing bright-colored plumage, his sensors detecting sensitive peck marks under his own feather coat, particularly in the cranial area.

Or each time he came in with more and more scars, his clothes shattered, bald spots, and even obvious bruises. Many times because of some crazy adventure, other times because he fought someone at school, the character of his partner added to the physical ability that he possessed from his self-induced training.

When he arrived depressed due to an argument with family members, because he refused to go out with them to the next hidden temple, because of his bad luck or even his cousin's getting in the way of each meeting, or because he was still not understood metaphorically and literally by his family or a third party.

For his family.

For his family.

For his family.

Uno did not know how, but until he discovered that Della was waiting even before Donald, the occasions in which he had seen him truly smile, at least with his family, could be easily counted and that because he had collected them, and on the other hand he really stood out when he was with friends, including him.

He really didn't want to feel some things unless they involved Donald, and while this technically involved his partner, he also knew the fondness he had for his family, so his confusion at his reaction was not only valid, but justifiable.

"Uno?" He blinked, and they knew what a relief it was for the sailor to mutter that name again even if there were no words in between, and even blinking out of his thoughts was so strange and wonderful to him, "Is everything okay?"

It was then that he recognized how nervous Della was in front of him, and tried not to feel joy at it because this was his best friend's sister and while he wanted her to fear and more, he did not want to get into an argument with Donald after a decade of estrangement and a lot of time to recover.

"Yes, yes, my apologies," and though he wasn't really sorry, it was gratifying to see Della tense enough because that was the least he feared every time Donald had to leave Duckburg with them. "I'm not that used to physical contact."

And well, that wasn't entirely a lie. Donald has been the one who has gotten him used to it, and that because he used to be very affectionate back in the tower, and getting used to the body was also new to him, but he did not know how much he had changed in recent years if the first thing he had done when he saw him was to keep clung.

But Della was watching them warily, and somehow both knew what the next question would be before it exited the pilot's peak:

"And how did you meet?"

"During the time you were in flight school," Donald began almost instantly, finally intervening between his sister and Uno even if he tried his best not to make it weirder than it already was, "I was looking for a part-time job and coincidentally Uncle Scrooge had just bought the Ducklair Tower so I started working there. Uno is... one of the sons of Everett Ducklair, the previous owner of the tower" Donald had to accept that his lying skills had rusted over the years — after raising the triplets on honesty, but the least he could do and he was grateful for was dancing around the truth because he had become the custodian of the Tower while his sister soared through the skies in search of her pilot's license, as uncomfortable as it was for him to even mention the name of his old friend's master's name.

But he also didn't want to know her reaction to knowing how involved he was with artificial intelligences, aliens, droids, and time travels. Especially when it was all over and it had been a lot to him at the time.

"Hmm, well Uncle Scrooge said you changed a lot while I was in school, that you had become more sensitive or something, and more alert," she commented out of nowhere and with a thoughtful expression, and Donald blinked after hearing someone snort, rolling his eyes after recognizing Uno's giggle even though a smile was visible on the edge of his beak, because if he had heard that several times during his time as a janitor and superhero, many times for teasing or bothering him, the truth was that he missed the teasing a lot — coming from his partner — because, unlike the ones he had heard on multiple occasions, they were not malicious. Besides the fact that facing bad boys had indeed helped his temper during his studies "it must have been for that. I guess I must thank you… Uno."

Still, neither of them missed the discomfort on Della's face, or the way she fiddled with her scarf, and her smile became strained as she spoke more.

Maybe it was because of the fact that Donald had secret friends? Because of the looks Uno gave her behind the back of his brother? Was it some older sister instinct that hadn't been around since high school coming to life and yelling at her to protect her brother from Uno at all costs?

And that was the hardest part, because Donald didn't look at all overwhelmed or alert by the mallard's presence. Indeed, she felt her twin relaxed in a way that only happened when he was with José and Panchito, and that had been while they were in college.

"I was just telling Uno to introduce him to the rest of the family, that you came in was a mere coincidence," Donald commented, with a smile so bright it puzzled Della, when was the last time you saw him so happy about something that surrounded him?

But she couldn't question it too much when Donald's face turned strange, blinking as his expression changed.

"What brings you here anyway? Not that it bothers me!" He clarified quickly, grinning nervously, and Della could have sworn the third duck's face turned warmer, and that was something she could share: she had also missed seeing Donald turn into the same nervous wreck as to when they were young adults. The duck cleared his throat and crossed both arms behind his back, “it's just, well, the only times you come unannounced are when you can't sleep. Now that I think about it, you seemed to want to tell me something… is everything okay?"

As he looked thoughtfully, he acknowledged that sooner or later he would have to talk to his sister about his desire and what happened next was more than evident. However, he did not expect it to happen so soon, and Donald preferred to wait once the situation with Uno was over and he had had enough time to think about what to say to her.

Unconsciously, that little consideration from the sailor had been enough for Della to remember what had dragged her into the boat in the first place, it can't be that she has forgotten so quickly!

However, the pilot couldn't help but wonder if now was the right time, especially seeing how calm it was in comparison to the cave. Actually, it was as if he had never had a breakdown in the first place.

She wanted to preserve that for a few more moments. Furthermore, she would never have known how to start that conversation even if she could chat with her brother at the time.

"It's not that important, it can wait." She shrugged, maintaining a serene expression that she now felt more sincere. If Donald noticed that tiny detail, he didn't say anything. "Don't you mind if I keep you company to the mansion? If anyone had the audacity to put up with my brother's plover head, it's worth knowing."

She olympically ignored her twin's reproach in favor of sneering at him, feeling satisfied when the mallard giggled despite the faint reddish tinge in the sailor's feathers.

"I don't see why not," Uno commented. And even though he still looked relatively tense, his shoulders looked more relaxed when he side hugged Donald. Della could not gloat over that small victory given the strange glint in Uno's eyes. It was a bit inhuman, though the pilot didn't want to jump to baseless conclusions, but they seemed to be on the alert, "but I'd rather wait: the plover head was thinking of wait and respond with the whole family present, he doesn't want to leave anything unsolved."

Unlike her, there seemed to be an iota of homesickness when he used the same nickname to poke fun at Donald, and though he rolled his eyes this time, an exhausted smile took place.

Della flinched when Donald suddenly raised his voice, his voice raspier with the effort.

"Family, can you come over for a second?!" Even Uno smiled, wincing at the future state of the sailor's throat. "I want you to meet someone!"

[stargaze-sunflower]

There’s a scene in Nothing Can Stop Della Duck where Huey and Dewey hug Della after her and Louie almost die, and I thought that Louie deserved a hug, too, so I wrote this. I hope you like it! :]

Ao3 Link

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Huey was happy that their mom came back. He was thrilled, really, he was over the moon (pun not intended). And he was nervous, of course, but that was just how he was. This was completely new territory, and he’d never done well with that – with dealing with things that he didn’t have all of the facts for. He didn’t like when things weren’t easily explained, but this was his mom, and he was prepared to try.

Louie… was not.

Huey didn’t notice that anything was off with his youngest brother until they were all gathered in the dining room. He should’ve noticed earlier, really. Normally he would be better than this at reading his siblings, but he’d been thoroughly distracted for the whole day. Your mom coming back from the dead could do that, he supposed, but he still felt like he’d failed at being a brother.

(“Hey, look, don’t get me wrong, of course I’m happy to have mom back.”

“But?”

“But, I dunno. It’s probably my fault. I’ve gone so long without a mom, I guess I don’t really know how to have one?”)

Louie had been painfully unsure, and stuck in his head so much that he apparently felt like it was his fault that he had mixed feelings. It probably didn’t help that everyone else seemed to be adjusting just fine. Dewey especially was absolutely thrilled, and his pure elation had a way of taking up all the attention in the room and leaving no space for anything else. Louie wouldn’t have wanted to put a damper on everyone’s excitement, and so he hadn’t said a single thing about how he was feeling. It was only when he’d been directly asked that Louie brought it up, and Huey was kicking himself for not having attempted a conversation about it sooner. It’s not like they’d been sleeping last night; they could’ve talked then.

But Huey had been stuck in his own thoughts. Him and Louie were similar like that; they got caught up in their own head way too often and far too easily. The difference this time was that while Huey had been working out the logistics of how Della had gotten home and the affects her extended stay on the moon would’ve had on her body, Louie had been thinking about how conflicted he was and how alone he felt in his uncertainty.

Louie didn’t do well with conflict, and he didn’t trust new people quickly. He was cautious, and careful, and he took things slowly. He hated being pushed into things blindly, and feeling like he didn’t have any choices scared him. Huey knew this, and he knew that Louie was sensitive, but that he would feel like he had to make an exception in his boundaries for his mom, and speed up his process and take it all in stride because that’s what family did.

And when he couldn’t seem to swing it, Louie would blame himself.

All the warning signs for an overwhelmed Louie had been there, and Huey had missed it. How could he call himself an older brother – and be proud of that fact – if he wasn’t even there when Louie needed it? If he didn’t even notice when something was wrong?

He’d been ready to talk to Louie about it right there in the dining room, after Uncle Scrooge had gone off looking for Della, but before he could bring it up and apologize for his obliviousness, a giant robotic monster awakened and burst out of their garage. Normal stuff, really, but incredibly inconvenient.

They’d all run outside, and Mrs. Beakley was knocked out, and Mom got up on top of the thing, and Huey and his brothers had pulled out their airhorns for lack of any better ideas. Then Louie had come up with a plan, and they’d executed it, and then Louie almost died. Huey had run over from the houseboat to stand next to Dewey, and he knew that he was too far away to make it to Louie in time to save him.

Huey grabbed onto Dewey’s arm in a tight grip, feeling the tension beneath his shaking hand as they watched the Gilded Man stumble and begin to fall.

Louie looked so small in front of it, his head tilted upwards as he stood frozen in place. Huey could just barely make out his wide eyes and terrified expression as the huge foot of the robot went hurtling towards him at an alarming speed. Huey couldn’t breathe; he felt like he was living in slow motion. Dewey was breathing rapidly and unevenly beside him, like maybe he was living life too quickly to process.

Della got there before the monster’s foot did, and she slammed into Louie at a high velocity, shoving him out of the way just in time for the foot to hit the ground. Huey’s heart gave a painful lurch as the ground below them shook violently, and he struggled to stay on his feet – for multiple reasons.

The Gilded Man fell to it’s knees, and then lifted a single large hand and aimed it right at his mom and little brother, as if it hadn’t caused enough damage already. The hand came down, and the robot shut down, and clouds of dust billowed in the air and obscured their vision.

There was no noise except the faint sound of his rapidly beating heart in his ears as he stared in horror at the scene before them, Dewey right next to him as silent as he’d ever been. The dust settled.

And there was Louie, sitting beneath the curled hand of the fallen robot, their mother kneeling in front of him, and he was alive; he was okay. Huey took a moment to analyze if his shaky legs would be able to carry him over there well enough, and upon concluding that they probably would, he ran as fast as possible towards the wreckage.

Louie and their mom crawled slowly out from beneath the hand, looking a little dirty and shaken but otherwise alright.

Huey held himself back from crashing into Louie at full speed, but only barely. He threw his arms around Louie’s shoulders as soon as he was close enough to do so, twisting his trembling hands into the back of his brother’s hoodie and closing his eyes tightly as he just took a moment to breathe. Dewey was there a half-second later, wrapping his arms around both of them and nuzzling his head against theirs happily. Huey heard Louie exhale quietly and relax, resting his head briefly on Huey’s shoulder before they all pulled away.

Della was looking at them fondly when he turned to look, a soft smile on her face and something vaguely nostalgic shining in her eyes. Dewey hugged her next, without hesitation, and Huey joined in soon after, sighing as the rest of the tension left his body.

It occurred to him that neither him nor Dewey had gone to hug Della first. They’d been worried, of course, they’d been terrified, but still they’d immediately gone to hug Louie. Huey couldn’t bring himself to regret it, and he wasn’t going to read too much into it, anyways. Della had been back for ten hours, but Louie had been his brother for ten years. Of course he was going to crush his little brother in a hug after almost losing him, and that didn’t mean that he didn’t care about losing Della, because he would honestly be devastated, but the feelings were just stronger and more intense when it came to Louie. And that was okay.

He and Dewey let go of their mom and backed up to stand next to Louie as Scrooge came over carrying Della’s detached leg, seemingly very happy and extremely proud of his niece. Della looked at each of them in turn, called them by their names, and promised that she’d try her best to figure out how to be a mom.

And for now, that was good enough.

[sweetprettygeek]

Whumptober Prompt 6

TOUCH AND GO

bruises | touch starved | hunger

Fandom: DuckTales

Whumpee: Della Duck

Scrooge McDuck has known Bentina Beakley for ages. He’s taken on many roles in their relationship—been her partner, her freelancer, her landlord, her employer, her friend. Her presence in his life is familiar and well-worn. He knows that underneath a serious, no-nonsense exterior she can be awkward, warm, or even fun.

So how can a single glare from her still strike fear into his heart?

“Do something about this.” She points a finger at the offending sight.

He rubs the stress lines on his forehead. “Do we need to do anything about it? It’s just a harmless little one-time—”

“Four times,” Beakley holds up the number on her fingers for emphasis. “Four times in the last week I’ve woken up to this mess. Cleaning up after a grown adult is bad enough, but she’s giving new meaning to the phrase ‘eating us out of house and home.’”

“Come now, Beakley. That’s a bit of an exaggera…” Scrooge stops short as Beakley pulls a receipt out of her pocket. When she holds it up to her eye level, it unrolls to a length extending past her waist. He sees the name of a local supermarket at the top and doesn’t insult either of them by asking what all that money had gone for. He sighs and takes the receipt from her, folding it up and stuffing it in his own pocket for later. “I’ll handle it.”

Beakley crosses her arms over her chest. “Right now.” Neither her tone nor her immovable stance leave him any room for arguments or excuses.

“Right now.” He concedes. She nods, seeming satisfied for now, and brushes past him, closing the door firmly behind her.

Scrooge wouldn’t put it past her to camp outside just to ensure he follows through.

He sighs again, turning his attention to the scene of carnage in his kitchen. The cupboards and pantry are wide open. There’s a stack of dirty dishes piled high in the sick. The kitchen table is surrounded by empty Pep cans and littered with wrappers. And in the middle of this chaos, snoring loudly without a care in the world is…

“Della.” Scrooge puts a shoulder on his niece’s shoulder and shakes her. She shifts, a little sound of protest rumbling in her throat. “Della,” he repeats, louder.

She turns her head. Her eyes open on a squint and look blearily up and him. “Uncle Scrooge?”

“Yes, lass. It’s time to get up.”

The hand Della had been resting her temple on presses against her eyes. “I never meant for this to happen,” her voice, unusually soft, quavers. “It was an accident.”

Scrooge raises an eyebrow. “Which part was an accident? Greedily gobbling enough food to feed the city? Or was it leaving the kitchen a disaster area on par with Pompeii?”

“What?” Della snaps upright. She sweeps her head feathers out of her eyes and twists her neck and shoulders back and forth, surveying the wreckage as if seeing it for the first time. Eventually her darting gaze lands on Scrooge. Her mouth opens and closes several times as she swallows her half-formed thoughts without speaking them. She blinks, and the spell over her seems to break. “Oh, hi Uncle Scrooge.” She smiles and waves innocently. “What are you doing up so late?”

“It’s five-thirty in the morning, lass.”

“…Oh, really?” Della’s laugh is reedy and off-key. “Guess my internal clock is still off.” She hops up and drags a trash bin over to the table, dumping handfuls of garbage in as fast as she can. “Moon time, you know. Hey, did you know that a day on the moon lasts—”

“Della, what is all this?” Scrooge gestures to the remaining disarray with his cane.

“Late night snack!” she replies, way too peppy for the situation and time of morning.

“A snack,” Scrooge rolls a runaway can back in her direction, “is a granola bar or a cup of yogurt. Not microwave burritos, an entire variety pack of chips, and whatever died on my stove.” He can’t tell if the bubbled, burned, congealed mass spewed over the burners and down the front of the oven is one culinary disaster or several.

“It’s no big deal, Uncle Scrooge.” She tosses a half-dozen Pep cans into recycling. “I’ll clean it all up.”

“That’s not the issue here.” He thinks of a certain scowling housekeeper and quickly amends his statement. “Well, it is an issue. Leaving your mess around for Beakley to deal with is very inconsiderate.”

“I said that I would clean it!”

“But hiding the problem doesn’t make it go away,” he points out. “You cannae go on binging sprees like you’re still twenty. It’s neither healthy nor frugal.”

Della’s shoulders drop and she breaks eye contact. Her voice is quiet when she speaks again. “I’ll pay you back for the food, Uncle Scrooge.”

He wants to tear his head feathers out. Of course Della would latch onto one word and ignore everything else he had said. He had forgotten how utterly frustrating she could be sometimes. “It’s not about…!” he cuts himself off because It’s not about the money was an obvious lie that would not help him get through to his obstinate niece. He takes a deep, calming breath. “I’m trying to help us both, lass. Are you not getting enough to eat at mealtimes?”

It’s her turn to raise an eyebrow. “You see me at most mealtimes.” Which is true. They’ve tried to have family breakfast and dinner since Della got home. Scrooge thought dining as a group would help her acclimate to their family dynamics.

She doesn’t eat as much as that first day back, but Della’s appetite is much more voracious than Scrooge remembers. Back in the old days, she could go a month on hardtack and jerky sticks. Now she loads up her plate and makes sure they never have leftovers. Beakley always prepares well-balanced and nutritious meals—none of the empty calories Della has been stuffing herself with on the side. So breakfast and dinner aren’t the problem.

Della is turned away from him, loading the dishwasher. He should have the advantage, with her not being able to read his face—and therefore his tactics—but Della has always been too good at seeing his angles. “Are you having lunch?” It’s the one meal where they follow the every duck for themselves principle.

“Yep!” Her response comes too fast, like she’d anticipated the question and predetermined the answer.

“What did you have for lunch today?” he volleys.

“Sauerkraut.”

“Sauerkraut,” he repeats, voice dipping skeptically.

Della whips around. “Yes.” She looks into his eyes defiantly, daring him to call her a liar. It’s an old tell of hers—as a child trying to avoid punishment to an adult playing cards with him. She wants him to call her bluff because then she’ll have an excuse to stonewall him and leave the conversation.

He doesn’t fall into that pit. He gives her a nod along with the retreat she obviously wants. “Good. Lots of fiber in sauerkraut. You know, if you ever want anything specific for lunch, I’m sure Beakley can make it for you.”

Della gives him a half-smile, half-grimace. “I think Mrs. B has had enough of me.”

“Nonsense,” Scrooge waves his hand. “That’s just how Beakley is. You needn’t take it to heart. Why, you should have heard how she scolded me when she first took this job—nonstop criticism on the state of my file cabinets and draperies.”  

The corner of Della’s lips quirks upward. “She must have had a heart attack when she saw the garage.”

Scrooge barks laughter. “You’ve seen the garage. Does it look like I let Beakley set a foot in there?”

Della grins and shakes her head. “Not for an instant.”

“Exactly. So don’t worry about Beakley.” He crosses to the dishwasher and puts a hand on Della’s shoulder. She inhales sharply. Scrooge’s own breath catches. Has he made the wrong call? But his worries are allayed in the next moment as Della closes her eyes and the tension in her shoulders bleeds out. Then, surprisingly, Della brings a hand up to wrap around his arm, preventing him from drawing his own hand away. Not that he had planned to. She breathes slowly, deeply, and there’s a strange expression on her face.

“Is there anything you need, right now?” he finds himself asking, spurning his morning plans. “Is there anything I can do?”

Della’s eyes open, flitting up to his face. Her lips part. She draws breath. Scrooge can almost see the shape of illegible words on her tongue.

Something changes.

Della pulls her hand away. She shrugs him off and maneuvers out of their narrow proximity. “No.” She gives him an empty smile. “No. There’s nothing.” She walks backwards towards the door and yawns a bit too big. “I’ll let you get on with your day. Gotta go catch a few z’s before the boys are up and ready for adventure.”

Scrooge’s fingers twitch after her. He restrains himself from following her, from getting his hands back on her and keeping her in his grasp until he’s solved her. “If you’re sure…” He leaves his sentence open. Leaves his arms open.

“Have a good morning, Uncle Scrooge.”

She closes the door behind her. The sound echoes and he feels it in his teeth. The tremor from his hand spreads up his arm into his elbow.

He needs tea.

He grabs his teabag out of a cupboard Della had neglected to shut. He stares at the black mess on his stove, absently wondering if it would be easier just to replace it.

His stomach churns, and it’s nothing to do with the thought of spending money. He’d let his niece leave without ever finding out what was wrong.

---

Della pulls the door tightly shut behind her, barricading it with her body. Her breathing comes in puffs: stilted and broken. She hides her face in her hands and feels a mortified heat on her cheeks.

She got caught. It was inevitable that she would, eventually, but the confrontation still has her reeling.

She presses her hands to her stomach, assessing the status of the near-constant ache that’s settled there. She’s bloated and, when she moves her hands in small circular motions, she hears gurgling. Digestive pain she diagnoses, sighing in relief. She isn’t hungry right now.

But she will be.

She shakes and slides to the floor. Her fingers curl into the feathers above her temples and pull. Why? Why? Why? Why can’t she stop?

Why can’t she stop eating?

She remembers her first day home—how excited she’d been at the prospect of having real food for the first time in a decade. She’d gleefully spit out Gyro’s awful Oxy-Chew and gorged herself on meats, cheeses, fresh fruits and vegetables. She shoveled mashed potatoes into her mouth with a fork in one hand and shoved muffins in with the other, alternating between the two with every bite. When Beakley tried clearing her plate, she pulled it back to retrieve one remaining pea. She’d eaten and eaten until the taste of black licorice faded and her stomach felt so pleasantly full that she might never have to eat again.

She’d been yanked from her sleep the next morning by the feeling of hot knives in her stomach. She cried her way to the kitchen, hungrier than she’d been in her entire life. The knot of confusion in her throat choaked her as she ate. She tried to reassure herself, to rationalize that the huge meal she’d eaten the day previous had stretched out her vacant stomach. As soon as she was back to a normal meal schedule, these hunger pangs would cease.

The pain, thankfully, did dull into something more manageable and not nearly as debilitating. But the hunger never went away.

She eats all the time now. She eats at breakfast; she eats at dinner. When she forgets lunch—which is, admittedly, often—her body thoroughly chastises her. She snacks on trail mix during flying lessons with Dewey. She pulls open a new bag of chips whenever she and Huey sit down for a gaming session. She and Louie have popped so many bags of popcorn for their Ottoman Empire binges that the couch has absorbed that warm butter smell.

Della tries to fight her urges, with mixed results. Maybe once a day she can make it between two meals without snacking in between. These wars of attrition between her mind and stomach are long and merciless. Her body will fight back with fevers, full-body shaking, and cramps in a growling abdomen. If she’s with the kids, she pretends to be tired or coming down with something. If she’s alone, she chugs a liter of water and curls up in bed, staving off her cravings as long as she can. Her mind goes fuzzy and, before she knows it, she’s in the pantry consuming whatever she can lay her hands on. On a handful of horrifying occasions, she’s come to herself while digging food out of a trash can because it’s perfectly good still and she can’t let it go to waste because who knows when…

It’s stupid. It’s ridiculous. She’s not on the moon. She’s in the literal mansion of her literal trillionaire uncle. But when she wakes up from her nightmares, the only thing that can calm her down is a grilled cheese or a toaster strudel. The food envelopes her in warm arms and grounds her, reminding her that she’s home, safe, and doesn’t have to worry about running out of the essentials.

Oxy-Chew has ruined her, she’s sure of it. For ten years she was getting nutrition every time she chewed, and she had to chew to breathe. This must be some stupid intense withdrawal. She’s considered going back on the gum, to see if that would take the edge off her hunger, but she can’t bring herself to put that bitter black monstrosity back into her mouth.

There’s no one she can turn to for help. Gyro would call her an idiot and follow with an overly-technical lecture she wouldn’t understand. Beakley already thinks she’s difficult and immature and trying uselessly to explain this dilemma won’t help Della’s case. The kids are only kids; Della can’t bother them with her problems. Donald is off relaxing who-knows-where. And Scrooge…

Della’s eyes sting and her throat tightens.

Scrooge wouldn’t understand.

How could he, when she doesn’t even understand it?

She touches the still-tingling spot on her shoulder where his hand had been—warm and comforting. She had been so close to giving in when he asked if there was something she needed. She was one slip of the tongue away from asking him to hug her. To hold her and anchor her and give her the security and feeling of being wanted that a ten-course banquet could never provide.

He had been the first one to hug her when she arrived home. The first familiar person to touch her in a decade. She’d been shocked when he picked her up and spun her around. Her heart couldn’t stop pounding as her distant, proper, Victorian-era uncle hugged her not once but three times. A younger, pre-kids Della would have never pulled away. She would have burrowed into the embrace and tried to stretch each second into an eternity. But this Della had waited a lifetime to hold her boys. Nothing was going to keep her from them in that moment.

Well, she didn’t know it then, but when she broke that last hug to find her kids a door had slammed shut behind her. Scrooge was too busy with work or adventuring for one-on-one time with her, something she had taken for granted earlier in life. And while he would pat her on the shoulder occasionally, Scrooge hadn’t hugged her again.

Maybe he thought she didn’t need it. Maybe she shouldn’t need it. But for ten years she’d been stranded in the cold vacuum of outer space. She tried to stay positive. To stay busy with her escape plans. To repeat Nothing can stop Della Duck like a magic spell that might grant her wish if she said it enough. But every so often, the gravity of her situation would consume her thoughts.

I’m going to die here, all alone. I’ll never see my family again. No one will ever know what happened to me. Sheer terror would seize her heart in a cold grip and her lungs would heave and spasm until the gum caught in her throat and her survival instincts overrode her panic.

She would have given anything in those times to hear another voice or see a face that wasn’t frozen in picture form. She would wrap her arms around herself, like she’s doing now, and pretend it was Donald or her parents. She only tried to imagine Scrooge’s embrace once. The experience sent her into such terrible hysterics that she’d never done it again.

Now she takes every opportunity for a hug that she can get. Dewey throws himself into each one with enthusiasm. Huey likes to take his time; his hugs are like a cozy blanket. Webby seems shy about asking for one, but will nestle into Della’s arms once she’s worked up the courage. Louie’s are usually quick, but tight. She’s even let Launchpad bear-hug her a few times.

It’s great, and it chases away the empty loneliness she’d felt for so long. But in all those hugs, she’s an adult. The mom. Sometimes she wants to be the kid. And maybe Beakley is right; maybe she is way too childish.

She just wants things to be okay again. She wants someone to tell her that she will be okay again.

Her stomach rumbles. She sighs. Maybe Donald has something to eat in the houseboat.

[waveypedia]

We Are the Lovesick Girls

Webby breathes in and out. Inhale, exhale. She closes her eyes as she reels all the air in, and opens them as she puffs it out, giggling as she watches her breath turn to fog in the cold December air.

“Look, Lena,” she says, her words peppered with stray giggles. “I’m a dragon!”

Lena sits with her feet propped up on the McDuck Manor porch, her gloved hands cradled around a cup of steaming hot chocolate. “And a very fearsome dragon you are, Pink.” Her words are dry and deadpan, but Webby’s antics make her feel as warm inside as the hot chocolate in her hands. Her smile gives her away.

Webby beams. “I’m going to ravage the town and steal you and all your gold for my hoard!”

Lena pumps a quiet fist. “I’ll be there.”

Webby laughs again. The sound is like a beautiful bell, tinkling and ringing throughout the cold winter air, and Lena doesn’t think she’s heard anything quite so pretty. Then again, she doesn’t think she’s seen anything quite as pretty as Webby.

Blushing, Lena’s attention snaps down to her cup of hot chocolate. She doesn’t dare look back up, until something cold smacks into her shoulder. “Huh? Wha?”

Webby stands in front of her, giggling, tossing a freshly-packed snowball from one hand to the other.

Lena’s surprise quickly gives way to a devious smirk. She sets down her hot chocolate carefully, but as soon as it’s out of her hands she’s up in a flash, scooping up snow and tossing it at Webby. “Oh, it’s on.”

Webby only laughs harder, her laughter infectious, and before you could say “Pink” both girls are flinging snow back and forth at each other. They sprint across the lawn, leaving footprints in the snow. Their laughter floats up through the open windows of the mansion and into the cold December air. Their cheeks are flushed pink, and if you asked, they’d say it’s from the exertion.

Lena slows to a stop ten minutes in, breathing hard, with soft, stray giggles coming between each breath. She puts her hands on her knees, her eyes on the ground, and Webby takes the moment to tuck a stray strand of hair in her hat and blush.

“Getting tired already?” Webby taunts good-naturedly, grinning. 

Lena’s head snaps back up. “You wish!”

Lena’s hands light up with a hard blue glow, reflected by Webby’s friendship bracelet. (Inside the house, Violet’s bracelet lights up as well. She blinks at it for a minute before shaking her head, chuckling, and returns to her game of checkers with Huey.) The snow rises behind Lena like the tide, towering over both girls. 

Webby stares back at the sheer wall of snow, undaunted. “Hey, maybe now the odds are finally fair.”

Lena chuckles. “Nah, they’re in my favor.” She makes the first move, with balls of snow flying out of the wall. Quick as a flash, Webby dodges and retaliates, and the race is back on. So is the laughter.

After a while, when both girls are thoroughly tired out and covered with snow, they finally slow down. Webby rubs her gloved hands together and tucks her hat tighter over her head. She shivers. 

Lena glances down at her hands, her face resting in a thoughtful frown. “Wanna go inside, Pink?”

“Your hot chocolate must be cold by now,” Webby replies, nodding. “And I want some!”

“Ah-ah, you have to have actual hot chocolate this time. Your cup was entirely filled with whipped cream and sprinkles,” Lena snarks, rolling her eyes. “The point of it is hot chocolate, not pure sugar.”

Webby’s eyes light up. “Sugar…”

Lena snorts. “C’mon, let’s get you some sugar and not tell your granny. Or at least don’t tell her I’m the one who authorized this.”

“Pinky promise,” Webby replies, holding out her pinky. Lena obliges, taking far more enjoyment than she should have in that little touch.

It’s not like she never gets to touch Webby, Lena muses as they make their way inside. (Her cup of hot chocolate is in fact cold, and she only mourns this fact a little in favor of entwining her hand with Webby’s.) In fact, Webby is probably the most touchy-feely person Lena has ever met. Both of her families are very physically affectionate, except for maybe Beakley and Scrooge (and Duckworth), so that’s saying something. Webby’s abundance of physical touch in every situation shocked Lena at first, but as a touch-starved teenager with no real family before Webby, she quickly latched onto every touch she could get.

At first, Lena thought it was just because she didn’t have any other options. But as she grew closer with the McDuck clan, and then the Sabrewings, both of whom provide her with more touch than she could ever dream of (as long as she’s comfortable with it - and there are times when she isn’t), she found Webby’s touch was special. It gave her something no one else’s touch ever could.

Lena squeezes Webby’s hand without thinking. Heat floods into her cheeks when she processes the action, but before she can do anything else, Webby squeezes back.

Lena glances down at Webby, who’s smiling back at her. Lena grins.

They reach the kitchen, where Donald and Della are bustling around, fighting over the best way to make chocolate chip cookies. Webby chirps at them, successfully catching both of their attention and making them smile, while Lena slips past them with two mugs. Donald ruffles her hair while she passes, and Della gives her a fist bump.

“You kids have fun, all right?” Donald says when Lena returns with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. Della and Webby both have their mouths full of cookie dough, making Donald give his sister a half-hearted glare, but Webby nods empathetically. 

Lena rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. She passes Webby a mug and Della slips her a spoon full of cookie dough, making Donald squawk in annoyance. She and Webby slip out of the kitchen almost unnoticed.

As they leave, Webby’s hand finds itself in Lena’s again.

They end up in the den. They have no real destination in mind, just somewhere cozy and warm, and the den perfectly fits that bill.

“I thought Louie was in here today,” Webby comments.

Lena barges through the door and flops ungracefully on the couch, almost spilling her hot chocolate. “His loss.”

(In reality, Louie was called upstairs by Dewey and Boyd, so he could judge a gummy bear eating contest before Mrs. Beakley shuts them down. He’s being paid, so he doesn’t mind leaving his Ottoman Empire marathon. Much.)

Webby hesitates in the doorway for a moment, before shrugging and joining Lena on the couch. Louie left a blanket big enough for two on the other side, and she wraps it around the two of them.

Lena scoots to be closer to Webby, tugging the blanket over her shoulders. “Let’s watch something.”

Webby picks up the remote and flicks through Newtflix. “We finished She-Ra, didn’t we?” she asks, stifling a yawn. The sugar hasn’t worked its way through her system yet, and the warmth of Lena’s presence is like a blanket of its own.

Lena smiles down at her fondly. “We did… But I don’t mind watching it again.” She knows She-Ra is one of Webby’s all-time favorite shows.

Sure enough, Webby’s grin is big enough to split her face. “You know I’ll never say no to She-Ra,” she says, turning the show on.

Lena wraps her free arm around Webby’s shoulders under the blanket. “And I’ll never say no to you,” she murmurs, low and soft, almost to herself. Webby catches it, though, and her cheeks turn bright red. Lena laughs softly, turning away to hide her own blush.

Webby snuggles up against Lena’s side. “Me neither,” she declares, taking a sip of her hot chocolate and directing her attention to the TV.

Lena sighs contentedly and lets the afternoon wash away in the form of sweets, bright colors, and Webby’s embrace.

~

I participated in a secret santa for the duckfalls server, and this is my gift! I haven’t written for ducktales in a couple months, so this was a really nice change of pace.  title is from lovesick girls by blackpink! the song itself doesn’t fit weblena as well as this specific line does, and i’ve been holding onto it for a weblena fic ever since i heard the song.

happy holidays!

[pilyarquitect]

64. “It’s okay to cry”

I was wondering if you could write an incredibly sad *Ducktales (2017)* oneshot where Scrooge subtly avoids his family out of immense guilt post-Shadow War and the triplets are the only ones to notice this, using Prompt #64 ("It's okay to cry")?

**************************************

Life seemed to be back to normal. The war against Magica and her shadows was finally over. They all came back to the mansion with their uncle Scrooge, and everything seemed to be perfect again. But… not everything was as normal as it seemed. Not at all, and Louie was the first one to notice it.

Louie realized on one of their dinners all together. Uncle Scrooge was inexplicably silent. Even more, he was avoiding to look anyone. Louie asked him if there was anything wrong, but Scrooge just looked at him for an instant and then raised claiming there were some business he had to attend and quickly left the room. No one else seemed to notice uncle Scrooge seemed to be escaping… from them.

The next one to notice it was Dewey. The middle triplet was in the entrance, waiting for Launchpad to come get him and go to a Darkwing Duck fans meeting. While waiting, he could see uncle Scrooge leaving the dining room. The old duck was walking with a sad expression on his face, and when he saw him, he opened his eyes wide and quickly moved to the stairs, disappearing before Dewey could even say something. Was he avoiding him?

Then it was Huey who noticed it. He was walking through one of the corridors, passing just front of uncle Scrooge’s office when the door suddenly open. Huey could see his great-uncle was surprised to see him there. Huey was also surprised, but soon recovered and asked to his uncle where was he going and if he could accompany him. Scrooge looked at him for a moment and turned back closing the door of his office.

That night, the triplets were in their room and obviously, the strange attitude of uncle Scrooge soon appeared on their talk.

“Have any of you noticed how strange uncle Scrooge is acting?” Louie was the first to ask

“Yup,”

“Sure.”

Answered the other two triplets while nodding. Then Huey crossed his arms over his chest and looked at his brothers with some concern in his face.

“I don’t know, but he has changed since the Shadow war.”

“Yeah! He’s ignoring us!” Dewey screamed “He avoids everyone!”

“True! And he seems to be constantly sad.” Added Louie.

There was an uncomfortable silence for a while. Suddenly Louie sighed.

“Do you think anyone else in the mansion has noticed this?” he asked

“Nerp,” quickly answered Dewey “I’ve talk with Webby and she knew nothing, and we all know how much she admires uncle Scrooge.”

“Same with uncle Donald.” Added Huey. “And even Beakley says she haven’t seen or noticed anything wrong with uncle Scrooge.”

“So… it seems just the three of us have noticed something is going on?” asked Louie.

“Apparently… yes.” Answered Huey with a look of concern.

Another awkward silence was established among the triplets.

“Guys? Do you think uncle Scrooge hates us?” Huey suddenly asked.

His brothers immediately looked at him with alarmed expressions.

“What?!”

“No! Why do you think that?”

Huey looked away, remaining silent for a while. He sighed.

“Think about it.” He began “We left after find out the truth, we betrayed him, and even if he seems to have forgiven us, how can we sure he has completely forgiven us?”

The other two triplets remained silent thinking on what their brother had just said.

“That… makes sense…” Louie admitted putting covering his head with the hood of his sweatshirt. He was trying to hide how he was feeling right now to his brothers.

Dewey on the other side could feel his anger grow. He couldn’t accept that! It was impossible!

“The only way to know that is by asking him.” He finally said with a determined look.

Huey and Louie looked each other and both nodded.

“You’re right.”

**************************************

Huey, Dewey and Louie would be lying if they said they weren’t nervous. They were nervous, more nervous than they’d feel in all their life. They wanted answers, but they also feared what those answers would be. To fear their great-uncle could hate them was stopping them to call to Scrooge office’s door. The three of them could feel an increasing tightness in their chests. Why was so hard to do this?

Finally, Dewey took a step forward and knock the door.

“Uncle Scrooge?” he asked opening the door a little to look inside “Uncle Scrooge, can we talk with you?”

Scrooge was looking at his desk, he didn’t even look at them while triplets entered to the office.

“Leave me lads, I’m busy.”

Uncle Scrooge's voice didn’t sound upset, or annoyed, rather sad and heartbroken. Not hearing any hint of annoyance, encouraged the triplets to keep going in their attempt to talk with their great-uncle.

“But uncle Scrooge we just-”

“Lads, please, I’ve a lot of things to do.” Repeated the old duck closing his eyes.

Dewey, on his side, narrowed his eyes and took a step forward.

“Yes, and one of them is to talk with us.”

Uncle Scrooge opened his eyes but he still didn’t look at them.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“If there’s nothing to talk about, why are you avoiding us?” asked Huey worriedly.

Scrooge looked at them with a mixture of surprise and shame, he looked like a kid caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing.

“What?”

“You think we haven’t noticed it?” Louie’s voice sounded maybe a little harder than he liked, but he couldn’t help it. He was worried and maybe a little mad with his great-uncle attitude, “You’re avoiding us. Why? Why are you doing this?”

“Have… have we did something wrong?” asked Huey with concern.

“Do you hate us?” asked Dewey harshly.

“What? Of course not lads!” now uncle Scrooge sounded alarmed and hurried to stand up and approach to his grad-nephews “Ye haven’t done anything wrong, and of course I don’t hate ye!”

“Then, why do you avoid us uncle Scrooge?” asked Huey again still sounding worried.

Once again, Scrooge looked away, unable to look at them.

“I… it’s… it has nothing to do with ye…” he muttered.

The triplets looked each other. Now they knew whatever was going on with Scrooge, it has nothing to do with them, or at least not because they’ve done something wrong. But they still needed to know what was making their great-uncle act in that way.

“Uncle Scrooge, tell us, please.”

“We want to help you.”

“But we can’t if you don’t help us to understand what’s going on.”

The richest duck in the world continued silent, looking away. Huey, Dewey and Louie shared another look. They really wanted to help their uncle, but they couldn’t force him to talk if he didn’t want to. The three of them nodded.

“Okay, if you don’t want to tell us, we won’t force you to tell us uncle Scrooge.” Started Huey

“But… we want you to know we’ll listen.” Continued Louie

“And we won’t leave this time, we’ll listen you and try our best to understand without judging and condemning you.” Finished Dewey.

The three brothers turned to leave the room. They had reached the door when their great-uncle’s voice stopped them.  

“Lads wait.”

The three of them turned to look at uncle Scrooge. The old duck was looking at the ground, but the triplets noticed immediately he was shaking. The boys looked each other. What were they supposed to do?

“All what happened… with Magica… with the shadow war… it was all my fault.” Confessed uncle Scrooge. He looked at them and the boys noticed immediately his eyes were shining despite uncle Scrooge seemed to try really hard to not cry “Just as Beakley said, I pushed you away again. I did the same I did with Donald, I excluded everyone from my life, and lied to myself trying to convince me I didn’t need anyone. And because I was so obsessed trying to believe my own lies, Magica got free and almost killed all of ye. Because of me and my selfish attitude I almost lost all what I love permanently.”

So the reason of Scrooge’s attitude was his guilt… knowing the origin, the boys now could try to help their great-uncle.

“Uncle Scrooge, that’s not true, this isn’t your fault.”

Scrooge shock his head.

“Yes, it is lad. Because of me Magica almost won…”

Dewey took a step forward putting a hand over his chest.

“If there’s someone to blame, it’s us, uncle Scrooge.” he said with the most honest voice he could use “We blamed you for what happened with our mom and we left, you didn’t push us away, we decided to abandon you.”

Uncle Scrooge looked at them and tears were forming in his eyes, but it totally seemed Scrooge was doing a great effort to not cry.

“Uncle Scrooge… it’s okay to cry.” Said Louie, and he was being completely honest this time.

Scrooge’s effort to content his tears yielded and tears start coming down his face without being unable to control or stop it.

The richest duck in the world knelt in front of the triplets and hugged them.

“I’m so sorry lads.”

The triplets returned him the hug as they felt their own tears falling through their faces too.

“We’re sorry too uncle Scrooge.”