#Dewey is THE hammock boy

[franmadaraki]

There's only two types of rats : pod boys and hammock boys

[torturedgenuis]

i day dream of you like a lovestruck fool

thoughts of kissing you as the dusk rises

and the birds sing on a dewey autumn morning

thoughts of swaying into peace on a hammock

during a chilly morning on the porch cause we both hate summer days

as i run my fingers down ur cotton like soft skin

and kiss ur vanilla tasting lips

nothing but euphoria as i sit with you

on the porch as smoke exits our breath

as the fall air and leaves create an aroma

but i’d weather any storm with you

and battle any wars for you

i’d be your happily ever after

after a tragic fairy tale gone wrong

if only you hadn’t muttered the words

“i wish you were a boy”

after our tipsy lips touched

[pinkie-lol]

Coochie Coochie Coo!

Scrooge is bored and then he remembers that he hasn't heard Donald laugh for a long time..

Scrooge McDuck ler/ Donald Duck lee

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Scrooge sighed loudly and heavily pushing the papers away from him. He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling in boredom

As much as the old man didn't want to admit it, he hated paperwork. To him, it seemed like hell for adventurers like him!

Every idea that came to mind was shattered by reality

He couldn't study old scriptures and solve riddles with Huey, couldn't tell old adventures with Dewey, and couldn't discuss finances and his new business with Louie..

"Well, I can't blame them. The boys want to be with their mom" — Scrooge nodded to himself — "And the girls are busy too... Apparently 22 and Della specifically talked about how to spend time with children" — he chuckled, remembering how in the morning Webby enthusiastically told them what was waiting for them that day and how Mae and June listened to her attentively with shining eyes

But 22 went with the girls to the highlands, as did Della and the boys to the city, as did his mood

Launchpad has a date with Darkwing and his daughter

Gyro with his robo-sons and Manny on vacation in China. And Fenton and his girlfriend are there too

What to do?...

CLAP

Scrooge jerked violently. He got up from his chair and looked out the window that led to the pool

On his houseboat, Donald threw a tantrum on his boat again and got angry in his own style

Scrooge chuckled to his memories of this office

At first, he did not even think about the "office" in his mansion and preferred to work at work

But then two problems appeared in the form of his nephew and niece and he could not leave them alone for some reason

First: well... They are his nephews, his family, problems are part of their lives and I didn't really want to pay Duckworth extra for psychological damage

And secondly... He missed them like hell! Working from home, he could calmly watch the twins and not die from the thought that something would happen to them

The location of the cabinet was also influenced by these two

Donald, when he wasn't in his room, was mostly by the pool.

He created boats and islands out of everything that could float and played the traveler when no one saw him.. At least, Della definitely didn't see.

But when he still couldn't get rid of her, Donald just played guitar on the side of the pool

Ah, these beautiful days~...

Scrooge returned to modern days and noticed a strange thing

"Why did Donald smile so little?" — this question shocked him — "Nah, that can't be"

Scrooge was rummaging through the memories of recent times and did not understand where this question came from at all?

Here is their reunion, and how Donald smiled at the boys after the adventure on Atlandita

But still, Scrooge had a strange feeling..

He looked out the window again at the pool, where his nephew was once again trying to relax in his hammock

And suddenly an idea came to him.

A smile spread across the beak, which did not bode well

At least to Donald

----------------------------

Donald was resting quietly in his hammock. The sun warmed pleasantly, the wind rocked his hammock and refreshed the atmosphere, and there was no one at home except his uncle in the study

Nothing could have gone wrong

Well, until this moment

A relaxed and light smile fell from the sailor's beak

He took off his black glasses to look at the cause of the shadow hanging over him

"Hey, lad" — Scrooge stood over him and smiled in a kind way

"Uncle Scrooge?" — Donald raised himself slightly on the hammock to get a better look at his troublemaker — "What do you need?" — his tone abruptly became serious as did his gaze

"Easy, Donald, I just wanted to check on you." — Scrooge raised his hands defensively

"Yeah, sure" — Donald rolled his eyes. He jumped off the hammock and headed to his house — "I'm going to get myself a lemonade, while you come up with a better excuse. Or find the strength to tell the truth" — he said the last sentence at the door

Scrooge shuddered slightly at these words. Even after everything they've been through, Donald is still mad at him.

He shook his head. Donald is right, it's time to stop avoiding problems and behave like a child!

At this time, his nephew came out with a tray in his hands, on which there was a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses.

"I thought you'd want to, too, after all, you've been in the office all day, must be hot?" — Donald shrugged and looked away as he set the tray on the barrel next to the hammock.

Scrooge couldn't help but smile. Donnie could be angry and spit poison all his life, but he would still take care and worry about him

"Thanks, lad, but no" — the sailor just poured himself a lemonade and raised an eyebrow expectantly. — "I.. I was just bored, so I came" — the billionaire rubbed his neck in a restraining gesture

"Okay?" — Donald drawled a little uncertainly — "And what do you want from me?" — Scrooge's face immediately changed from awkward to a smile. A smile — which Donald had known for a very long time and which promised nothing good. He put down his glass and began to walk slightly around his uncle.

Scrooge squinted slightly, but for now he was letting Donald go. And Donald knew better than anyone that if there was a chance to leave, it was better to take it, especially if you contacted Scrooge McDuck.

He turned his head, which was a fatal mistake.

Scrooge, without hesitation, until he was in sight of his nephew, took the opportunity and poked him in the side.

"WAH" — the reaction was not long in coming and Donald covered himself with his hands. They stared at each other for a moment, until.. — "Nah!" — Donald abruptly ran, but it was too late. Scrooge was faster.

His uncle knocked him to the floor and sat on top of him.

"Get off me!" — in an unsuccessful attempt to untie his uncle from himself, the sailor jerked

"I'm afraid my answer is no."

"What are you-" — but Donald couldn't finish. He cringed and tried to hold back the laughter that was about to come out of the treacherously smiling beak. Scrooge's hands were on his stomach while his fingers tickled his nephew.

"What am I what?" — he asked mockingly. From his nephew's beak came rare giggles and giggles, which Donald unsuccessfully tried to keep to himself.

"S-stop.." — only he could speak.

"Hmm..." — Scrooge stopped. He put one hand on his hip and propped his chin with the other in a thoughtful gesture. — "Let me think..." — Donald has already relaxed and started thinking about how to get out of this situation — "No." — But his uncle took advantage of this and abruptly began to tickle his armpits.

"WA- HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" — this time Donald couldn't hold back his laughter — "UNCA- HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! STO- HOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO -P! HAHAHAHA!" — his hands tried to remove his uncle's hands from him, but to no avail. The old man is too strong

"Come on, Donny, aren't you having fun? Yes, for me" — Scrooge chuckled at his gloating, but still decided to spare his nephew — "Okay, I think you've had enough" — with obvious sarcasm, Scrooge got off him and sat down next to him.

Donald rolled over on his stomach and tried to catch his breath. Why is he so ticklish at all?

"Damn it." — Donald wiped his sweat and sat down slightly, having completely recovered his breath. Here Scrooge again seized his hand, which was still on his forehead. — "Wat?"

"Penalty for bad words" — there was a sweet smile on Scrooge's beak, which was only a lie and for Donald it was fatal.

Donald tried to tear off his uncle's hand, but Scrooge just grabbed it with his other hand. He joined his nephew's hands while he struggled unsuccessfully and calmly transferred them to his left hand. Scrooge knelt over Donald.

"No! I don't want to, let it! Let go!" — in unsuccessful attempts, Donald tried to escape.

"Oh, come on Donny~" — his right hand was slowly reaching for his neck while his nephew was trying to move it away, but this was not only useless, but also opened a weak spot for Scrooge. — "Have fun with your beloved uncle." — Scrooge's sweet and gentle voice did not soothe in any way, but only frightened and terrified even more.

"Mmm... He.. He-he.. He..." — a rare chuckles came from the sailor's beak. He was still trying to fight somehow.

Abruptly Scrooge's hand was on his rib and began to tickle there. Quiet giggles abruptly turned into loud laughter. The hand danced expertly on the ribs. Then she moved to the armpit and poked very quickly. And then deftly, and even professionally, she began her journey from the armpit, along the ribs and tummy.

"UNCKI-HEHEHEHEHEHE! STO-HOHOHOHO-P! WAHAHAHAHAHAK! IT TI-HEHEHEHEHE-CKLEHEHEHEHEHES! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" — at this time, Donald kept trying to get out, but despite all the kicking and trying, he couldn't do anything and Scrooge still held and tickled him.

After perhaps an hour, although minutes had actually passed, Scrooge released Donald. He got on his knees, so Donald could stop feeling the pressure on himself and let go of his hands. Donald just caught his breath and wanted to start swearing at his uncle, but..

Scrooge lifted his shirt so that his tummy was free and grabbed his back with both hands and pulled him to his beak.

"Pfffffffffff!"

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NO-HOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO! STOP, STOP, STOP! PLE-HEHEHEHEHEHE-AHAHAHAHAHAHA-SE!!"

Donald writhed in his uncle's arms while Scrooge held his nephew unwaveringly.

A little later, Scrooge finally released Donald.

"Hehe, that was pretty fun, wasn't it, Donny?" — Satisfied, Scrooge wiped the sweat from his face, proud of his work — "Lad?" — Scrooge turned to the still lying junior — "Donald!" — Duck looked too dead and enjoyed the cold floor.

----------------------------

"Hey, 22!" — a cheerful young female voice made the former agent sigh wearily but lovingly.

"Hello, Della, hello, boys." — she turned to the family, receiving a quick "Hello" from the guys.

"How was your special day?" — under the rapid and excited conversations of the children, the lunar mother began a conversation.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you now."

"Oh, yeah.. This is all your spy, agency and other super secret stuff! Am I right, right?" — young Duck winked at the elderly woman on the last question.

"No." — She shook her head slightly with her eyes closed while Della gave her an unexpected look. — "I said "now." We'll tell you, but later. Maybe tomorrow or at dinner." — she shrugged her shoulders in a casual and relaxed manner that didn't really suit her.

"O. Oh.. I get it." — the cheeky smile was replaced by a tender and loving one, like a mother's, when she looked forward at the children again. — "Also learned a couple of important lessons today, right?"

"Right." — a soft nod followed the surprised look. — "What would you like for dinner?" — Bickley asked a little louder so that the children could hear too.

"I don't think it's worth worrying about right now." — Della waved her hand casually, before the children would have started asking — "Donnie's probably already cooking us something. Probably stewed soup or fried pork." — she was careless towards her twin, but that didn't stop the boys from starting to guess in nostalgia.

"Or chicken with tomatoes and beans.." — in bliss Dewey suggested — "I hope he will add marine products this time too!"

"You remember that he only made us this soup when we were sick, don't you?" — Huey asked skeptically.

"Come on, bro." — Louis stretched out in a relaxed manner while he held June's hand — "Now Uncle Donald does not need to save all the time for everything and everyone except us, so he will be able to pamper us more often than before" — the triplets slightly lowered their heads at these words, remembering how sometimes they heard how much their uncle's stomach rumbled, but he still said that he was not hungry and fed them to satiety and even gave dessert — "Plus, you have to admit, this soup is just the food of the gods. We were lucky that only the three of us ate it! Zeus can only envy and cry like a baby, which he always does" — the joke quickly lifted the mood and the group was able to walk to the mansion and enter it (fortunately, a moment of sadness allowed Bentina to continue to run ahead and open the door for the children).

However, when they entered, there was a strange noise, similar to a fight, in the kitchen area.

The children looked at each other, Louis casually squeezed June's hand tighter (not out of fear, of course).

Suddenly flew out of the kitchen (literally) Scrooge. He got up and looked at the kitchen door, which instantly snapped shut.

"Donald! You can't kick me out of my own kitchen! Open the door!" — He started knocking on the door. However, there was no reaction and he stopped. — "Are you... Offended?" — his answer was a door that opened abruptly and a cane flew out of there, which hit him in the face and he immediately fell. The door slammed shut again.

"Um... Unca Scrooge?" — Della asked a little uncertainly after what she saw, and when Scrooge looked at her still on the floor, she continued — "What's going on here?"

Scrooge just got up again, dusted himself off, adjusted his top hat and glasses.

"Well..." — Scrooge looked at the kitchen door and shuddered slightly. He turned back to the group that had arrived — "I'll... tell you a little later. And how did you spend your day?"

After a while, Donald joined with croissants and everyone forgot about this incident.

Except Donald.

He refused to talk to Scrooge until one day he just burst into tears and he had to forgive him and that day they fell asleep hugging.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

My first fan fiction tickle, I hope you enjoyed it!

[godfrey-the-chaos-duck]

*bursts through the door, carrying a TON of loose papers* I THOUGHT YOU'D NEVER ASK!!!!!

Let me open by saying, get well soon, @justaboot

And now for the cringey headcanons I have!! (LONG ASS POST, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED)

Scrooge: We know this because of "The 87 Cent Solution", he is a stubborn old bastard when he's sick. And it is sooooo entertaining to me personally.

Huey: Still does schoolwork and stuff because he's the nerd of the class.

Dewey: INSANELY OVERDRAMATIC.

Louie: Will demand to be taken care of if he has so much as a sore throat. This infuriates Beakley, Duckworth and Scrooge no end.

Webby: I feel like she'd try to emulate Scrooge and tough it out, but that would last all of thirty minutes before Mrs. Beakley steps in and takes care of her.

Donald: Oh, my poor, poor Donald. It hits him hard, and all he wants to do is curl up in his hammock and sleep. However, nine times out of ten, at least one of the boys is sick as well, so he has to fulfil his Uncle Duties in caretaking.

Della: Like Webby, tries to be brave about it like Scrooge. Unlike Webby, she is successful. However, her composure will eventually waver (at around the same time Scrooge's does)

*side note, Donald and Della definitely have the Twin Thing wherein when one of them falls ill, so does the other*

Launchpad: Stays home and binge-watches Darkwing Duck, as is only right 😅

Duckworth: Obviously, I'm not about to get into the whole "can ghosts even GET sick" thing, so I'll just say that even in life he would've been that one person who never seems to get sick anyway.

Mrs. Beakley: It doesn't happen often, but when it does, it hits her like a ton of bricks, and she's utterly helpless. The fam rallies round to help her out, and it's super wholesome.

Let me know what you guys think!

Okay so what do we think the gang is like when they’re sick? Who’s unbearable. Who’s a germ-spewing factory at work. Who’s a baby.

We know Scrooge, and I gave my takes on Louie and Della in in situ, but yall I need your beakley theories bc she could go in so many directions

[stargaze-sunflower]

Donald getting to know Webby. as a prompt

On comfortably cool nights, Donald slept with the windows open. It was a habit he’d gotten into back at the marina, when every now and then they didn’t have the money for the electricity to keep the fans running. There was always a breeze, then, and it had carried with it the sounds of birds singing and fishermen casting their fishing rods and people faintly laughing or yelling on another boat not too far away. He got used to those sounds, and he’d learned how to tune them out, but the one thing that always woke him up – without fail – was the sound of his kids’ footsteps.

Or the sound of them crying.

Which was why he was awake in a heartbeat when he heard soft sniffles trailing through the open window and into his consciousness. He sat up in his hammock, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he tried to place which one of his boys it was. He couldn’t pinpoint it, which meant that it wasn’t one of his boys, and that had to mean that it was—

He poked his head out of the open window, looking around the dimly lit pool area until he saw her, sitting at the edge with her feet in the water and her arms wrapped loosely around her torso in a poor imitation of a hug.

Webby.

Donald was out of his room and on the deck of the houseboat before he even fully thought about it, not hesitating for a single second. Oh well, Della had always teased him about being a mother hen.

Webby didn’t look up at him, even when he came to a stop at the railing of the boat, looking down at her worriedly. For someone as well-trained and normally very aware as she was, it was concerning that she didn’t seem to notice that he was there.

“Hey,” he called out gently, making sure he was loud enough to be heard but soft enough not to startle.

She jumped a bit anyway, despite his efforts, and she tilted her head back to look up at him in surprise. As soon as she met his eyes, hers widened minutely and she set about frantically wiping at the tears on her face, and something in Donald’s chest cracked.

(The same something that ached on every birthday the triplets celebrated. The same something that swelled and danced when they’d given him father’s day cards for the first time. The same something that burned and shook when someone he loved was in danger.)

Quietly and with a mission in mind, he climbed out of the boat and dropped down to the edge of the pool below, waiting a moment before sitting down next to the distraught girl. She slowly pulled her feet out of the water and hugged her knees to her chest, saying nothing. Donald furrowed his brow.

“Do you feel like telling me what’s wrong?” he asked kindly, careful not to touch her until she initiated it.

Webby shrugged a bit jerkily, a strained smile appearing on her face as she glanced at him, not quite meeting his eyes.

“I’m fine,” Webby said in a slightly wavering voice, and Donald just blinked. “I just— I just couldn’t sleep. It happens when I get restless, it’s nothing to worry about.”

Donald had raised triplets for the past ten years. He did nothing but worry.

“Okay,” Donald said, leaning back a bit and settling in. “Do you want to tell me about what’s not wrong?”

She looked up at him in apparent confusion, finally meeting his eyes, and Donald smiled gently.

“Sometimes it’s easier to talk about something else,” Donald explained, tipping his head back to look at the sky. “When Huey’s upset, he talks about his favorite parts of the JWG. When Dewey’s upset, he talks about his favorite constellations, or adventures he wants to go on. And when Louie’s upset, he tells me about his day, or Ottoman Empire, or the things he’s noticed that no one else has.”

Webby blinked at him, letting her knees fall down a bit as she uncurled from her defensive position.

“Do they ever tell you what’s wrong?” she asked, a bit of concern creeping into her voice.

“Sometimes,” he said, nodding slightly, “but sometimes they don’t, and that’s okay, too.”

“So they just… talk? About whatever they want?” Webby asked, shifting so that she was sitting cross-legged.

“Yep,” Donald said lightly. “And sometimes nothing at all, if they feel like being quiet.”

Webby fell silent for a moment, looking out at the pool, lit from beneath by submerged lights. She sighed.

“Don’t you have to go back to sleep?” she asked him, fidgeting with her hands in her lap. “I don’t wanna— I don’t—”

“I’d rather be here,” Donald said truthfully, letting his feet slowly move back and forth in the water. “And we can talk about whatever you want.”

That finally got the girl beside him to crack a smile. It was small and a bit unsure, but still there. Donald smiled back, gently bumping her shoulder with his own.

“Okay,” Webby said, letting her feet dangle back into the water as she straightened up.

She glanced at him somewhat shyly, and he nodded in encouragement.

She started talking. Slowly at first, pausing to make sure he didn’t seem impatient before continuing, but as the minutes passed she gained more confidence, until she was laughing at Donald’s jokes and telling him about how she grew up and what her favorite weapons were.

Eventually, she fell asleep on his shoulder and he carried her up to bed, tucking her in with practiced gentleness.

A few days later, a friendship bracelet appeared on his pillow.

He never took it off.

[zarinaa113]

DT Ficlet: The Word

Donald slid his head through the cracked open door to his three three-year-olds room to check on them before he went to bed. He heard a wimper and a muffled word so he slid over to the bed. Another wimper came from the left side of the bed. Louie. Donald lowered himself onto the big matress and leaned forward to check on him. He was squeezing his green blanky in a tiny fist. His feet kicked and his eyes were screwed tightly shut. "SHTOP! SHTOP! I WANNA GO HOME!" He cried. Donald pinched his beak gently, he had to keep the others asleep. He gently shook a shoulder. "Louie, hey Louie. Wake up. It's just a dream, Lou." Louie relaxed and slowly opened his eyes. Donald let him go as he sat back, ready to ask what was wrong when he was acknowledged. "DADA!" Donald froze with his hands reaching to hug Louie as the word reached his ears. Louie didn't notice and hugged his uncle, blubbering and crying into his shirt. Dewey's foot hit his as he shifted in his sleep, promoting Donald to gather himself enough to remember the need to keep his other boys asleep. "Let's...let's put you back to bed." He rubbed Louie's back to soothe his cries. "Nu-uh!" "Wanna sleep in my hammock?" "Yeah!" "You're lucky I'm too tired for a fight." Gatheting up Banky the Blanket and picking Louie up, he slid off the bed and closed the door. Donald carefully set Louie in his hammock and plucked his own pajamas. He tossed Banky over Louie's head and hurriedly threw his shirt off before Louie'd pulled Banky off. Giggling, Louie peeked around a fluffy corner. Donald threw his hands on his chest in mock horror. "Louie! Give a duck his privacy!" He scooped up his duckling, so he wouldn't tumble out, and tucked them both in bed. Louie was practically asleep already but he grabbed a handful of Donald's pajama shirt in his fist, the other fist clutching his blanky. The hammock swayed with the gentle rolling of the sea, rocking them to sleep. Louie mumbled something unintelligible as he fell asleep. "Sweet dreams." Donald answered, Louie's soft head-down ruffling his beak. ``` Donald awoke with a kick in his shin. He groaned and reached to rub the sore spot but stopped when his hand was blocked by Louie's still sleeping body. He winced. Louie's little fist was still gripping his shirt, but he'd gotten hold of some feathers too and was yanking them. "Shtop! Shtop! I don't wanna! Hewp!" Louie was crying, thrashing around. Donald grabbed his arm to keep him from falling out of the hammock. "Wet me go! Wet me go! Hewp! Dada! Dada!" Dad. 'Dad'. Light. Lots of light. Sharp. Sharp things. Sharp shiny things. Holding on. Holding on or you'll fall. You'll fall and you'll die. Like Dad. Hold on. Don't scream. Hold on. Screaming. Hold on. "AAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!" Louie shrieked. Donald loosened his fingers, when had they gotten tight?, he let go of Louie's arm, the arm he'd been gripping. Louie was shaking with sobs. He was so tiny and delicate, Donald could've broken his arm just now without much effort. He shrunk back, but he couldn't move in a hammock. Louie was still crying, he needed comfort. But Donald had almost hurt him, he had hurt him, he couldn't be trusted with them. He was no dad. These weren't his kids. Three years in and he was still terrified for them every waking moment. Three years in and he was barely keeping them afloat. Three years in and he was still winging this thing called parenting. But every sob Louie gasped hurt like shards of glass digging into his heart. He had to help. Gently, he brought Louie closer, stroking his soft, soft hair. "It's okay Louie, its okay. Dada's here. Dada will make it go away. Dada will keep you safe." And Louie stopped crying and sighed in relief as he was kissed. "Dada."

[kawaii-mango]

Babysitter Blues

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

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

Fanfiction.net

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

Chapter 1

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

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

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

Something was up.

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

"Oh no."

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

He overslept!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Donald sat down. "I-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sorry, boys, but no dice."

"But Unca' Don-"

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

"Yes, Unca' Donald."

**********

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

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

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

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

**********

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

"So what now?" He finally spoke up.

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

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

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

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

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

"Wha'cha got?" Louie asked.

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

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

"A year, at least."

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like cheering up his boys.

And he knew just the thing to do it.

**********

"Hiya, boys!"

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

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

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

"Yup." Dewey responded.

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

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

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

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

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

"Hi, Mrs. Birdwell!" They greeted.

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

"How are you feeling?" Dewey asked.

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

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

"Oh, you boys are so sweet."

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

"Bye!"

"Goodbye."

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

"Yeah." Louie said, looking away.

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

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

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

"Yeah." They agreed.

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

"Yeah!"

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

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

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

"YEAH!"

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

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

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

[space-and-galaxies]

wrote a fic for my set after series but its not showing up in the tag so im posting on main 

Link

Alternative to ao3: 

The lawn of the mansion was more packed than usual but that didn't stop Donald from seeking the boys out with his eyes, it was second nature to him at this point honestly. He found them together -which didn't surprise him in the least-, looking rattled, seemingly searching for something. That something didn't have a word for itself but he knew what it was, and he also knew it was now Della's job to provide that. And that didn't bother him anymore, he was glad the boys had their mom- it was all he had ever wanted for them. But that meant facing a hard truth- he wasn't the one taking care of them anymore. He had come to terms with that by now and he was okay with it, the boys deserved to have an actual parent in their lives, not just an uncle they had to settle for. No matter how much he had wanted them. No matter how much he had thought of them as his kids. They weren't, not really, and now he had the chance to have his own kids.

So why did it feel so wrong?

He watched as Della went over to them, offering comforting and reassurance, but they didn't even register it which made him frown. They had been receptive to her before- well, Louie had taken longer than his brothers but now he adored her just as much, what had changed?

Scrooge apparently had noticed as well and also made his way over to them, trying to help but the same thing happened. His frown deepened, something was going on here. Before he even realized what he was doing he was going over there and bending down to the triplets level, he tried to ask them what was going on but they hugged him before he could get a word out. He easily wrapped all three of them up in his arms and rubbed their backs, whispering soft reassurances to them.

"This is all over now, right? They're not gonna attack our family anymore?" Huey asked; the three of them looked at him wanting comfort.

"It's over." Donald confirmed. And that was true, F.O.W.L had been disbanded once and for all, and even if one or two people tried something it wouldn't as bad as today was. "It's okay now, boys, everyone's okay." He stared up at his Uncle and sister who were watching the scene with an ineffable look, "Right?" He told them promptingly.

"Right." They both quickly responded.

The boys seemed placated by that and let him go, "Thanks, Uncle Donald."

"Of course." They took off after that, probably to find the other kids and he turned back to the other two. "What?" He asked, noting their looks hadn't changed. They jumped out of it.

"Nothing. How did you know what to do?"

He shrugged, "Practice. Experience. Knowing them better than they know themselves. Of course they’re on edge, two of their own were taken today.” Speaking of, where was...? He found Webby talking to Mrs. B and smiled, good, they both needed that.

"Yeah, but," Della shook her head but continued at the stare he gave her. "They responded to you." They did, didn't they? He tried to give her an answer for that but found he didn't have one himself. Why did they do that? They had Della now, she was all they had ever wanted- they had tried to hide it from him but he knew how to read them exceptionally well and really couldn't blame them. He raised them but he wasn't a parent, they wanted a parent. And now there were two little girls who wanted a parent as well, and maybe he could be that for them. And that was okay, the boys had Della, he had the chance to be an actual parent, everything worked out in the end.

Right?

______________________________________________________________

That night he went back to the houseboat, normally after big events like this he liked to be near his family but he still had some packing to do. He and Daisy were planning on waiting a few days for things to settle down -and taking the time to get May and June things they would need- before leaving, but there was still a lot he had to pack. They were coming back eventually, but he didn't know how long they'd be gone and it was better to be safe than sorry. He didn't know why he had ever thought he could move away permanently, today had reminded him of how much he loved his family, and how much he hated the thought of being separated from any of them for too long. Constant adventuring did funny things to the brain he supposed.

He was cut out of his thoughts by a knock at the door and tilted his head, letting out a 'huh'. "Come in!" He shouted figuring it would be Della, wanting him to come back inside the mansion or just wanting to be near him after what almost happened to him. Imagine his surprise when three figures stepped into the room. "Boys." He blinked. "You know you never have to knock. What's up?" They were about to answer when they noticed him packing,

Dewey tilted his head, "What're you doing?" Oh right, here came the hard part. They didn't need him as much anymore, but he still couldn't imagine them taking him leaving very well.

"Packing."

"You're still leaving?" Louie asked quietly.

Donald gave them a shaky smile, “Yeah, you three have Della and Scrooge now.”

“That doesn’t mean we don’t need you too.” Huey protested; his brothers nodded in agreement and Donald's smile grew more genuine.

"It's not forever, I could never leave our family forever. It's just a little vacation, after everything that's happened it's long overdue. But I'll still have my phone on me- anytime you want to call me you can, for any reason. And we're not leaving for a few days, there's no way Della would let that happen." He said with a chuckle.

The three of them looked at each other, having one of their numerous silent conversations. "Can we sleep here tonight?"

He softened instantly, "Of course you can." He then noticed how late it was so he decided to stop packing for the night and moved everything off to the side so the boys could climb in the hammock. Once the four of them were situated he began humming, hoping that would lull them to sleep and pulled them close to him, needing some form of grounding and knowing they needed it too. It had been a long day for all of them, so he prayed with every inch of him that they were able to sleep through the night.

Only a few hours passed before he woke up. He was greatly intuned to any signs of distress from the boys so when he noticed what woke him he wasn't surprised at all. Dewey was having some sort of nightmare and was muttering something in his sleep, but he quickly grew louder. "Dad!" He called out, still not waking up. Oh. Oh.

It was like everything just suddenly fell into place. That was what felt so wrong, he already had his own kids, they were just as much his as they were Della's- maybe even more. He was their Dad, he had always been their Dad, in everything but name. But what was a name anyways? Just a label, there were more important things that determined people's significance to one another. He raised them, he was there for them when no one else was, protected and defended them from everything that could hurt them, no matter how small or infinitesimal -it didn't matter to him, as long as there was a chance they could get hurt he was there-, and maybe that was all that mattered. Names weren't important, actions were.  

Dewey was getting more restless so Donald figured this wasn't a nightmare he could wake himself up from and did it himself. He jolted up, panting, and Donald quickly but gently grabbed him in a hug and started to soothe him; the movement woke the other two up. "Ugh, what's going on?" Louie sleepily mumbled. "Dewey?" He asked, more awake when he noticed where his brother was. Dewey just shook his head.

"He had a bad dream." Donald explained and Huey and Louie shared a look which he understood almost too well, Dewey was the least likely of them to get nightmares, when he did it meant something was really wrong. Of course, today had been, something, so it hadn't been surprising in the least that one of them had gotten one, but the fact that it had been him was especially worrying. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asked once he calmed down.

"It was just about what happened today." Dewey said quietly. "I know I couldn't say anything but it was really scary." Donald hummed, with Huey gone the oldest brother roll had fallen on him and it was something he had always taken very seriously. Louie pressed his head into his brother's and Huey wrapped them up in a hug of his own.

Donald smiled. "You were very brave today, all of you were, I am so proud of you." The look they gave him in return did funny things to his heart.

What was he doing? He couldn't just leave them, they needed him- probably more than they needed anyone else, besides each other, he saw that now. But May and June needed a parent too, only now he wasn't so sure that he could be it, or that he really wanted to be. That sounded bad, but four kids were more than enough for him, besides, those girls deserved a quiet life after everything they had been through and he didn't think he could provide that- adventuring was just as a part of him as it was the rest of his family. But he still needed an actual break from it, he still needed this trip, and looking down at the boys all huddled against him he realized that they needed it too. Hmmm...

The next morning was just as hectic as you'd expect the morning after taking down an evil secret organization to be, breakfast fire and all. Donald quickly threw the food into the pool and the four of them watched it sink to the bottom. The boys started laughing after a few moments and he fondly let out a few chuckles, "Okay, no more experimenting with food in small places." Huey's brothers looked at him teasingly and he playfully shoved them.

"So what dewey dew for breakfast now?"

"Ummm..." Donald said as he noticed Daisy walk into the backyard; the triplets looked at each other and quietly excused themselves, they could just find something in the mansion. Daisy smiled at them as they passed her then made her way on the boat, giving Donald a peck on the cheek as soon as she reached him. He blushed and rubbed his neck, "We need to talk. Not that talk!" He hurriedly added on when he noticed her look. "It's, umm, about our trip." She looked at him understandingly and gestured to the houseboat.

Once the two of them got settled on the couch he started talking, "I've been thinking, a lot, I don't think I can go on it with you- or May or June. It doesn't, it doesn't feel right, I mean, the triplets need me, I can't just leave them. I know they have Della and Scrooge now, but they just don't respond to them like they do me. And after everything they've been through.... they just need to be around someone who really understands them." He rubbed his neck. "And well, after raising them for ten years that's me."

She grabbed his free hand, "It's okay, Donald, I understand. They're your boys. Actually," He tilted his head at her, intrigued. "I've been talking to May and June and while they really like you, we've agreed that it might be best if they be in an environment they can truly heal in, so I think I'm gonna take them in."

"Daisy..." He said with awe.

"I want to, Donald, you've really rubbed off on me. Watching you with the triplets, and Webby... well, it's one of the reasons I like you so much. I know I can do for those girls what you've done for the four of them. Besides, it might be a little too soon for us to do something like this. But someday, I would absolutely love to go with you."  

Donald stared at her completely enamored, "How did I get so lucky?"

She squeezed his hands, "I'm the lucky one." They smiled at each other and she continued, "Anyway, I just wanted to stop by and tell you that, and to see about postponing the trip myself, I really think right now they just need peace and quiet- or as much of that as they can get in Duckberg. Go be with your boys, Donald, I'm not going anywhere." He grinned at her and they shared a kiss, god he loved her. Loved? Yeah, yeah, he loved her. He really did.

He walked her to the front door of the mansion, giving her one last kiss then bent down to hug May and June. The two of them shared a hug with Webby and then they and Daisy were off. Donald looked down at Webby, "Had breakfast yet, Kiddo?" She shook her head so they made their way to the kitchen. "How are you feeling after everything?"

"Good, I talked to Granny and Uncle Dad Scrooge." He hummed, not commenting on the 'Uncle Dad' part, some things took a while to get used to, he knew that better than anyone. "And sure, some things have changed but the important things haven't, and that's what matters! Plus, now I'm really a member of this family!"

"Webby, you always were." He told her sincerely; she beamed and hugged him.

______________________________________________________________

When they got to the kitchen he was surprised to see everyone else in there, Mrs. Beakley was making breakfast -which was not a surprise- and Scrooge was helping her. Della was attempting to help as well but was being shooed away and the boys were giggling at her. Donald's heart hadn't felt so full in a long while. He sat down next to them while Webby went to help and was allowed to, much to Della's chagrin. "How come she gets to?!"

"She's never burnt the kitchen down making cereal, dear." Mrs. Beakley told her and she pouted but went to sit down.

Louie nudged Huey, "So that's where you get it from." Dewey let out a gasp and Huey rolled his eyes at them. "Where did Aunt Daisy go?" Louie then asked, looking around.

"Oh she took May and June back to her's, where they're gonna be staying from now on." The triplets glanced at each other. "They've been through a lot, we've both agreed that this is what's best for them."

Della turned to him, "Wait I thought you guys were taking them on your trip?"

"Yeah, we're not doing that anymore...." The kitchen fell silent and the others shared glances with one another. Finally, Huey spoke up,

"It's because of us, isn't it?" He asked quietly, looking down; his brothers did the same.

Donald sighed, "Yes and no," He said honestly. "Last night made me realize some things, mainly how silly I was thinking I could ever leave you three for more than a few hours." They jerked their heads up. "You said it yourselves- you need me, and what kind of Uncle would I be if I ignored that? Not the kind I want to be, that's for sure." Saying Uncle felt off, but that was a conversation for another time.

The boys shared another look, "Speaking of last night," Dewey said awkwardly, playing with his fingers. "I might've called you Dad in my sleep." Oh, guess it was another time already. "I don't know if you heard, but I wanted to apologize anyways, I know you don't like it when we call you that."

"What!" Della said, making everyone turn to her. "Why don't you let them call you that, Donald? You're the one who raised them for the first ten years of their lives. Okay, yeah, maybe you thought them calling you that would replace me in some way, but I'm here now and I'm telling you that you are their Dad- I couldn't think of a better person to have that name for them. Or a better person to be doing this parenting thing with."

"Well, that was something else I realized last night- when you said that, Dewey, everything just clicked." Donald admitted. "I've had my problems with it before, but if you three want to call me Dad I'm more than okay with it." The triplets grinned and hugged him, he gladly reciprocated with a grin of his own while Della looked at them fondly. After that breakfast was served and everyone ate, sitting around the kitchen table. It was crowded, but they wouldn't have it any other way. As they ate Donald noticed Della kept glancing at him and he raised an eyebrow at her but she just turned back to her food. Huh, wonder what that was about?

Once breakfast was finished and the kitchen was clean everyone went their separate ways for the day, well most of everyone. The boys caught up with Donald and he looked at them curiously. "So you're not going on your trip anymore.....?"

Ah, that was what this was. "Daisy and I agreed that it was too soon for us, besides, May and June need most of her attention right now and you three need mine." He paused for a moment considering something and then continued. "Actually, I still want to go on it- I really do need a vacation, but how would you like it if the four of us went instead?" The triplets looked at one another, their expressions almost entirely unreadable. "Take your time, I'm not in any hurry. And whatever you decide I'll be fine with, it's just a suggestion."

"How long would we be gone?" Huey asked.

"Not that long, a few months a most. Just a small break, you three weren't raised like me and Della and I can tell this constant adventuring is getting to you." He bent down to their level. "I just want you to be okay." They had another silent conversation then turned to him,

"We're in."

The next few days were as hectic as that morning had been, and between the packing and the planning Donald hadn't really had any time to himself. But that was okay with him, alone time was overrated. The boys were slowly getting more and more excited and that excitement was infectious, and not just with him, after they had told the others the updated plan and after some hesitance they got excited as well. Sure, it would be hard for the family to be split up but they could tell how much the four of them needed this. However, there was one person who wasn't as excited, and as Donald loaded his car up he knew he had to talk to her.

He walked up to the step she was sulking on and sat next to her. "Dells, I know you just got back to us and how hard this will be, but I promise I'm not trying to take them from you."

She looked at him, "No I know that, they need us, you need this, but now it's my brother and my boys." He nodded understandingly. "I would come with you, but I know you haven't had any real time with them since you moved into the mansion, and I also know how much all four of you miss that. I'll be okay, eventually; who knows, maybe this'll be good for me too? Ever since I've been back I've been so focused on being their Mom, I need to remember who I am outside of that."

"I'm proud of you."

"And I'm proud of all of us." Louie let out a groan from behind them and they laughed as they turned to him. "Everything good to go, Honey?" He nodded, then hesitated for a moment before hugging her. She let out a small surprised noise and hugged him back, they were joined by his brothers a few seconds later. "You three be good for your Dad, okay? Don't give him too hard of a time."

"Yes, Mom." They chorused, though everyone knew that it wouldn't happen, then started saying goodbye to the others. Donald turned to his sister and gave her a hug of his own,

"I'll miss you, don't get on Scrooge's nerves without me." She chuckled, ignored Scrooge's squawk, then asked if he was sure he was sure about this. "Yeah. I love Daisy, but the boys are my adventure. They always will be.” And then it was his turn to say goodbye to everyone else. Mrs. B's was short and to the point, but was filled with love just like everything else she did for her family, Webby's was longer and more emotional, brimming with assurances and promises to do stuff together when he and the boys got back. Scrooge's, Scrooge's was different, and in a way might've been the hardest one.

"Uncle Scrooge."

"Donald Duck."

"Oh come on, just hug each other already!" Della shouted; they looked at one another before doing so. Donald would never admit it, but he had always loved his Uncle's hugs, they felt like home. This hug, in particular, was especially comforting.

"Ae know ae dinnae say it much, but ae am proud o' yew, Nephew. Yew've grown inta such an admirable man and yew've done such a good job with the triplets. Ae know ae'm hard on yew sometimes, but that's just because ae want ta see yew succeed, and yew have- far beyond what ae had ever hoped. Have fun on yer trip, yew deserve it."

Donald choked back tears, "Thanks, Uncle Scrooge. I know I act like I don't care, but your approval has always meant the most to me. I owe a lot of who am I today to you. Thank you for being a good Uncle, to all of us." The rest of the family joined the hug, not one dry eye in sight, and then Donald and the boys were off. They all waved to each other until the car went out of view then Donald looked at his boys through the rearview mirror,

"You three ready for this?"

"Yeah." They were ready for anything.

[twilighteve-writes]

all the things they might have said to you

Summary: Della went to the moon and wondered how much of it was wanderlust and how much of it was her heart screaming terrified screams over the children she chose to bear but wasn’t ready to.

Donald broke his relationship with the man he thought of as a father and raised his nephews, mourning for a corpse that was still alive.

Scrooge shut himself off from the world. He built glass castles of routine and cold detachment and glue them all together with nothing but spit and spite.

Della comes back from the dead, and the glass castles shatter.

Also available in AO3.

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Sunlight seeped through the gaps of the curtains, shining a light in the otherwise dark room. Mornings were slow in the McDuck household, but something about this felt leaden, heavy and stifling despite the lazy ease that the household always carried, even in the excitement of adventures and treasure huntings.

Della’s eyes fell onto the three eggs gleaming in the sun. She knew why.

Why did she even have them?

A wave of guilt rushed into her like sudden hot wind before a storm. She wanted them. She wanted them. Why else did she even choose to have them? She wanted them, and she was happy and nervous and excited and scared, but wouldn’t anyone? Wasn’t parenthood, in itself, a gift and a challenge in one?

She left the room. The eggs would be fine; they were eggs. The time to worry and lose sleep over babies wasn’t upon her just yet.

It was easy to plaster a smile and assure everyone she was fine, her eggs were fine, everything was fine, she just wanted to walk around because she’d been cooped up in the manor for a long time and she needed to feel the wind in her feathers. It was as fine as fine could be.

She found out about the space ship and every cell in her being vibrated in excitement, in a way she hadn’t felt in a long while. It was easy to steal a look of the Spear of Selene, it was easy to sneak into the cockpit, it was easy to power it up and let it rise to the atmosphere. Just a quick trip, just a test flight, and she would be back to earth. After all, Uncle Scrooge had this made for her to celebrate her children. Wasn’t it in her rights to check if the ship was right as rain, if she, if Uncle Scrooge, wanted to give the little ones the stars?

And then the cosmic storm happened, and she wondered, oh. Was she wrong to have stepped foot in the Spear, when there were kids not even hatched back on earth and a brother she would dump them on and an uncle she basically robbed from?

Why was there a teeny, tiny, guilty part in her heart that was relieved she could get away from them all?

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Della shot off the orbit, got lost in a cosmic storm, and disappeared off the face of the planet, the manor where they grew up, the lives that she had touched with feather light laughter and whirlwind excitement.

Uncle Scrooge did all he could to search for her and bring her home, but to no avail.

Donald decided he had had enough, took the eggs, and made a life out of pennies and anger and too much demand for too little reward in order to prepare something for three children he was in no way prepared for and should never have prepared for in the first place. He built cradles out of wood and sewed swaddles out of muslin and laid himself in patch-sewn hammock and dreamed of a life he wished he could give the kids. As the hatching approached he stocked all cabinets with formula milk and baby food and hoped the gentle sway of the sea could rock the babies to sleep as he glanced at rows and rows of dirt cheap ramen and greeted hunger like a new friend – they would see each other for a long, long time spanning over years and years.

He managed to keep himself together until the week after the babies hatched. He had scrapped the names Della had chosen for them, worried they would give them troubles with bullies later when they’ve gotten to school and worried he couldn’t pronounce the names correctly (worried their names would remind him of a sister long gone and worried he would break in front of them and worried they would one day follow her footsteps and disappeared into the orbit, worried, worried, worried) and instead called them Huey, Dewey, and Louie, color-coding them according to the colors they were drawn to the most. It had been a long day at work, and the kids hadn’t been cooperating, and Louie kept crying and that set off Huey and Dewey and they would spiral and spiral and spiral as they reached an unending feedback loop and Donald was so tired.

Whatever higher being out there decided to take pity on him, and somehow he managed to calm the triplets enough to get them to sleep. He matched his breath to the gentle rush of the waves slapping the hull of his boat, got into his room, and sat on his hammock.

Something ugly that he had been holding back since Della disappeared tore through his chest.

This wasn’t fair.

None of this was fair. He wasn’t supposed to be taking care of children that wasn’t even his, he wasn’t supposed to sit in an empty room cradling his hunger like a lover, he wasn’t supposed to be alone and feeling like half his soul had been stolen and scattered to the wind. Della wasn’t supposed to be gone and he wasn’t supposed to be a parent for her kids.

It was all Della’s fault, so stupidly brazen and reckless and thoughtless, going up to space without even a shred of preparation. It was all Uncle Scrooge’s fault, so arrogantly excited over the prospect of exploring the unexplored and forgetting the danger and the mortality of their blood and bones. It was all his fault, for not being able to convince Uncle Scrooge to stop constructing the Spear, for not being able to tell that Della was about to do something stupid, for not stopping any of it from happening the moment the gears began to turn.

This wouldn’t happen if the kids weren’t here at all.

The moment the thought crossed his mind, Donald choked on a breath that he took in and coughed until his throat felt raw. Once the coughing subsided he went out to get a glass of water, saw the boys sleeping peacefully, and broke down in tears.

His sister was dead, he had cut off all communication with his uncle, and he had three babies he had to care for. Lack of proper nutrition had stripped his feathers from all shine and he was sick of ramen and egg, sick of getting baby milk, sick of choosing what other thing he could do without so he could sell it for money to pay for more baby milk.

But Huey, Dewey, and Louie were what he had now and the last chain to remind him of a sister he lost to the sky, and he would tear heavens to pieces to keep them safe and sound even if it was the last thing he could do.

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Della shot off to the sky and the great expanse of the stars swallowed her whole.

Donald blamed everything on him, took Della’s eggs, and built a life out of cardboard houses and baby supplies and refused to answer any of his calls.

His board of directors forced him to stop his search and face the facts (not facts, not facts, there was no body to be found and no ship to bring back and he refused to accept it until he saw her skeleton) and had him return to his work in a company he built for his glory and planned to gift to her family, but there was no more family, now. There was no family in missing niece and estranged nephew and little babies he didn’t even know the names of.

Fine, if that was how it had to be. Family was nothing but trouble. Family was poison, and he refused to drink poison when he could drink wine, and he shut himself in an empty house and an empty empire and built, built, built until he could build no more.

His life used to be one of blood rushing into his head as his adrenaline spiked, reaching for treasures and breaking curses and escaping crumbling temples. It was the twins laughing and joking and poking, pulling him into their circle of joy, hushed words fondly whispered over a cup of hot cocoa in the gentle glow of the fireplace, brutal game nights that always somehow ended in them hugging each other and tumbling over giggling. Now his life was a cold empty routine with a bumbling driver that tried so, so hard to bring him out of his shell – but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not anymore. Not when his newly built castle was one of fear and cold and brittle cracked glass barely held together, and he would hold it together even if he bloodied his hands in the jagged edges of the shattered glass he pretended was brick.

Beakley brought in a toddler, later. Her granddaughter, a wee one she called Webbigail lovingly, and Scrooge absently noted that she was the same age as Della’s triplets and wondered if the soft, fierce look in Beakley’s eyes would have been the same as his if the triplets were in his life.

He quashed the thought away and resumed his cold routine of going to the Money Bin, work, get back to the manor, and sit silently picking over his mistakes and pointing out what he could have done to keep Della on earth, safe and happy and alive, or what he could have done to keep Donald in the manor, breathing in the same air as him and talking to him, even if it was nothing but callous words and spat curses. He wondered what it would be like, to have the triplets here and grow up together with little Abigail, who had taken to peek through corners to steal glances at him whenever she could, but kept her distance from him.

Those were all what-ifs, useless in the end. He threw himself back into his work, grit his teeth and lied to himself that family was nothing but trouble, and drowned himself in poisoned wine of his own making.

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Della tasted licorice on her tongue, ignored the phantom pains at her stump, and tried to build herself a ship to bring her back home. She tinkered and patched together a way to transmit videos to tell anyone, anyone at all, that she was still alive and as well as she could be and she was trying to get back home. She didn’t know if it would work, but it was her only hope.

(She ignored the ugly elation that she dodged her responsibility to her children and swallowed the guilt whole and tried to convince herself that the only way she could be happy was to go back home and be by her children’s side and be the mother they deserved to have.

She ignored the fact that the word mother terrified her more than the prospect of not being able to go back home.)

It was all so different, on the moon. The silence was deafening, the black sky was dark and bright and blinding, and as lonely as she was, she felt a freedom she hadn’t felt since she realized she was pregnant. She slapped that away and doubled down and screamed to herself and would continue screaming until it stuck; she wanted her kids, she wanted her kids, she had to go back and be with them because they deserved a cool mom and she had a freaking robot leg, of course she counted as a cool mom.

She built the rocket into being from the scraps and garbage she still had in the crash site she had been stuck in for so long, and wondered if the clench in her heart was from anticipation to go back or from dread to face a life she wasn’t sure she wanted to have.

It made her weep, how much relief flooded her lungs when the ship fell into ruins once more.

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The triplets grew, and learned, and laughed, and Donald decided there was no treasure more precious than the three children that had practically turned into the lights of his exhausting life.

There were so many milestones they had passed. He never missed a single one, and he never failed to eternalize each and every one of them in the form of pictures. A part of him wondered if he was doing this purely for documentation purposes, to use to embarrass the triplets later when they bring their dates to meet him, or if there was still a tiny part of him that wished that one day Della would get to see the photos, that one day Uncle Scrooge could be in one of them.

But that was absurd. Della and Uncle Scrooge were parts of a life he no longer led. His life wasn’t treasure and weird magical shenanigans and bizarre spats with mythical figures anymore. It was unfulfilling jobs and PTA meetings and the triplets, laughing and crying and dancing around each other like the world was theirs to conquer and smiling at him, pulling at his hand and bringing smiles into his face until he forgot the scolding he got from his boss or the annoying customers or clients or whatnot or the last time he got fired for the umpteenth time. Huey, Dewey, and Louie was Donald’s whole world and he was theirs, and he was so lucky he had them in his life.

Of course, that thought was always accompanied by a crushing guilt and a sob that threatened to wrench itself out of his throat. It made him feel like he had traded Della for the triplets and it made him angry and sad and so, so helpless in the machinations of fate.

It didn’t mean he didn’t ache for the times well past, still. It didn’t mean he didn’t miss his sister’s feather light laughter and whirlwind excitement, didn’t miss Uncle Scrooge’s arrogant excitement and his ignorance over the mortality of his own blood and bones. But he had Huey with his meticulous planning and note-taking, Dewey with his reckless abandon of rules and safety as he jumped straight into the ocean without a safety jacket, Louie with his keen eyes for details and talent to wring money in any opportunity he could grab. It didn’t mean he didn’t miss what he had years ago, but this was what he had now, and he would cherish it with every single strand of feather on his body and each beat of the stubborn heart that refused to fail with each passing danger he had faced over the years of his life.

He hadn’t realized how stagnant his life had become. It was a routine and a dance, going to work and fretting over himself worrying over the kids, having some unfortunate accident or other, and losing his job over it. It was routine, to go to sleep exhausted and hungry and mourning for a life long lost and building a dam to contain it away, letting it build higher and higher as the water continued to trickle and accumulate as he pushed it away as far as he could because he had so many other things to worry about, so many other things to do, so many other things to take care of.

The boys managed to dupe him halfway, the babysitter wouldn’t be coming, and the houseboat was jumpstarted as the triplets ran him in circles trying to go to Cape Suzette.

Donald decided enough was enough and answered the coos of the rain dove that had sang its song for years and years and drove to the hill he once called home and hoped he could trust his uncle and his ignorance of mortality, and, despite his better judgement, allowed Uncle Scrooge to hold the light that had kept him alive and hoped they wouldn’t burn.

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Scrooge met Della’s three children at last and felt part of his glass castles crumble. That cold façade he’d held on to stubbornly, as if scratching a mosquito bite believing to relieve the itch only to create welts, had been shattered with a laughter and a smile from the boys. He held on to the broken pieces and felt them dig into his flesh and tried to distance himself from them, but they stubbornly clung to him and pulled out each and every jagged piece with each word they spoke.

Family was nothing but trouble, and Scrooge missed trouble, terribly, terribly so.

A part of him ached still, seeing the boys – it was so easy to see Della in them, and her presence was blindingly bright in them that it eclipsed the very boys that they truly were at their core. But he looked on, watched them as they bickered and played and pulled Webby into their orbit and circled around each other as if they had been together since birth instead of the mere weeks they’d known the girl, and he could see Huey, Dewey, and Louie at last, and could see Donald in them just as easily as he could see Della. It wasn’t as obvious; Donald was the moon to Della’s sun watching over the triplets’ earth.

He wondered if he could see Scrooge in them, too, but he dismissed the thought. He didn’t deserve that, not after failing to keep Della safe, not after failing to bring her home like he vowed he would do. Once upon a time he might have dared to claim to be the stars for the moon and the sun, helping them raise the earth, but not anymore. Not after failure after failure after failure and wrapping himself in spite trying to prove that he didn’t need the sun or the moon.

That was stupid of him, he realized now. Donald and Della were the moon and the sun and when it was only the three of them he was the earth under their mercy, and he couldn’t live and laugh and thrive without the light they shone and the pull of their gravity. And who was he kidding? He was never the stars. The stars were the kids, Webby included, shining brightly in the night sky and dancing around each other creating changing constellations that had him pointing and wondering what they would form next.

The glass castles didn’t crumble completely, of course. It was built of work routines and work was work and he had to do them to maintain the empire he had built, because for once there was something to come back to and something to leave his legacy for.

That didn’t mean his life was all sunshine and rainbows later. He – they – still faced many trials, still learning how to be a family, still nursing old hurts that had become infected after ignored for too long, but they were learning, and they made progress, inch by inch, second by second. It still broke his heart to see Donald without Della, and it broke his heart further to know that the weight of the children’s safety and wellbeing robbed him of Donald’s own health, physical or otherwise. It was almost a relief to send Donald to relax on a cruise, but he needed it, he needed it, he needed to slow down and rest up and remember that Scrooge was more than willing to bear the weight with him, as clumsy as his hands were.

And then Della came back from the dead, as bright as she was before she went away, her shine blinding him of what he had just regained as he held the sun in his hands and hung it for the children to see.

The moon had always been far less bright than the sun, but Donald would be fine. He needed his downtime, Scrooge could tell him of Della’s return and made it a surprise later. He closed his eyes and ears from all signs that something was wrong, told himself it was only the new moon, and basked in the warmth of the sunlight.

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Della managed to build her ship back from scratch with the help from the Moonlanders, swallowed her fears and convinced herself she was ready to assume the role she all but abandoned a decade ago, and ran back home fueled by nothing but the rising bile in her throat and the beating of his terrified heart.

Uncle Scrooge was older, but of course he was. Despite that he was still the same bleeding heart that covered himself in a shiny armor to hide the fact that he was a sap that would trade everything for the safety and wellbeing of his loved ones. Donald wasn’t there – on a vacation, she was told, and even as her heart pined for a missing half she had been denied from for far too long, she swallowed the longing and plastered on a smile. Donald was always so prone to stressing out. He could do with a relaxing vacation.

The kids, however. There was a brief burst of anger when she realized Donald had changed their names – she had prepared cool names befitting of her cool kids, how dare he change them. But they were who they were, and names didn’t matter as much as long as they were here and she was here and that was all that mattered. She plunged herself into a role she had no idea how to do and took the mantle of a mother and convinced herself again and again that she was ready, she was fine, she could do this.

She realized she was out of her depth when the Gilded Man began rampaging, and that realization was only deepened with more and more blunder she made. Dewey was forgiving of it, too ecstatic to have her back to really consider them blunders the way Della did, and Huey was patient with her, assuring her that it was as much a learning curve for her as it was for them, but Louie was… aloof. He inched forward to her increasingly frantic attempts to mother them with wariness that reminded her of Donald’s caution. Something in it stung her, how they were as much his as they were hers. Something in her screamed that Donald was stealing her place, but she shut it down as fast as she could. She left, and she came back, and she would regain her spot, one way or another.

So she tried, and tried, and tried, with Dewey and Huey and Louie in particular, but her efforts only seemed to push Louie further into his shell and they bottle everything up pretending it was all fine and dandy, and eventually the bottle was too full to close properly and she shook it up and down by yelling at Louie when he broke time and everything exploded.

She wanted this, she tried to convince herself again that night as shadows creeped and the stars winked. She wanted this, and she could do this, and it was all she had ever hoped for, blunders and all.

She slept with a bed of lies and a blanket of mistakes and convinced herself it was the most comfortable she had felt in her life.

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Donald shot himself off into the orbit, crash-landed on the moon, got taken prisoner, and broke out with the help of a Moonlander. He shot himself back into the orbit, crash-landed on earth, got himself stranded on an island, and spent his days trying to keep himself alive while trying as best as he could do sail back home.

He couldn’t, of course. He didn’t even know where he was, so navigation was basically impossible, and there was no way to get himself off the island. He tried to build a raft but it kept falling apart, and he had spent so much time building it he wasn’t even sure he could rid his hands of splinters anymore.

And then Della crashed into the beach, bringing Huey, Dewey, Louie, and Webby along with her.

Cracks had appeared in the dam he had built over the years. They always do; cracks, appearing. But it was harder this time to hold them back, with thoughts fleeting too fast for him to catch and the realization that his long-dead sister wasn’t so dead after all and that she had taken her place back while he was gone. Something about her was jagged and callous; he wasn’t sure what.

“If you had been home you would have known I was stuck on the moon, which by the way is invading,” Della accused.

“I know, I warned you,” he hissed back.

“We didn’t get any warning,” Della threw back. “And just because I missed you, doesn’t mean I’m not mad at you!”

“You think I don’t miss you too?” Donald yelled. “You think I don’t spend hours every day just wishing you weren’t dead? You weren’t, but you weren’t there!”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you. At least Uncle Scrooge tried to search the sky. What did you do? Sat on your hands doing nothing?”

The cracks grew bigger, and bigger, and it leaked.

“I sent transmissions, and you didn’t even try to intercept them! Instead you’re just there taking the role of a caretaker and then just went off to a vacation while the Moonlanders attacked.”

The dam broke. Years upon years of accumulated grief turned into anger and hurt and flooded his whole being until he could no longer think.

“I thought you were dead!” he screamed, and he could barely understand his own words in the wake of the sob that threatened to wrench itself free from his lungs. “I thought you were dead, and Uncle Scrooge built that ship for you and it brought you to your death, and you left behind children that hadn’t even hatched. What was I supposed to do, leave them to die along with you? Let whatever of you I have left die?”

“You took my place!”

“You weren’t there to take your place. You abandoned your place!” He threw the words like a slap and it made Della stagger as if there was a physical weight to it. “You took that rocketship, and you went, and you were gone, and you were declared dead. You went on your own. No one forced you to go!”

“I – the ship needed testing!” Della defended, but her voice shook.

“Uncle Scrooge had test pilots!” Donald snarled. “You’re a pilot, but not an astronaut, and not a test pilot. It wasn’t your job to test the ship. Just admit that you were just running away!”

Della stiffened. “What do you mean.” It was a demand, not a question.

Donald scoffed. There was a tiny part of him that wanted to stop, stop, shut up, but years of letting grief fester and ferment had made him angry and ugly and he wanted to make Della hurt. “You think I didn’t pay attention back then? You think I didn’t see you grow more nervous as hatching time gets close?”

Della’s eyes widened. “Stop.”

“You think I didn’t hear you ask for just one more adventure, one last time? You think I didn’t notice you getting more scared by the day?”

“Stop!”

Donald had always had a talent to voice Della’s ugliest thoughts in one way or another. “How much of it was because you wanted to explore, and how much of it was because you didn’t want to be a mom?”

There was a choked sob, and Donald turned to see Huey staring at them blankly, Dewey holding on to Louie, and Louie trying and failing to contain his tears. By then, Webby scooted away in discomfort, but seemed reluctant to leave the triplets.

“Did you not… want us?” Huey asked, voice worryingly toneless.

“No! No, no, I wanted you! I wouldn’t have had you if I didn’t want you!” Della hurried to answer.

“But then you… got on that ship,” Dewey said softly.

“It – it was a mistake I made,” Della admitted. “But I’m back here! I’m back home, and I’m here.”

“But you weren’t there, before,” Louie breathed. “You chose to go and you didn’t come back until recently.”

Della reached out to him and he dodged her hands away. He made a beeline to Donald and hugged him tight, gross beard and all. Donald hugged back just as tightly, determined to give one of the boys that had given him joy in the darkest moments in his life any sort of relief that he could offer.

“This is getting nowhere,” Huey broke the tense silence after long last. “We need to go back to Duckburg. Uncle Scrooge is facing Lunaris alone.”

Dewey frowned at him. “But how? Uncle Donald hasn’t been able to leave the island.”

“I’m sure Uncle Scrooge will be fine,” Della said. “He’s a capable man! He can deal with Lunaris on his own!”

“Like you can handle one last adventure, Della?” Louie asked, callous. The use of her given name instead of the title she had adopted had Della flinching, and Donald held Louie tighter.

Gladstone and Fethry arrived atop a giant krill, and any sort of familiar confrontation was put aside in favor of fighting the Moonlanders, but it hung back in Donald’s mind like a shadow that refused to fade.

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Against all odds, they managed to defeat Lunaris and welcomed peace back on earth.

Peace on earth. Not in their household.

Scrooge found out belatedly that Donald was never in the cruise. The crush of guilt as his failure to keep his family safe had to be put aside to handle Huey, who had spent all their time together stubbornly reading his guidebook and ignoring all words spoken to him, Dewey, who had been oddly subdued, and Louie, who had refused to call Della mom and insisted on calling her by her name, and Webby, normally so sure of her position, hovering uncertainly by them like a boat untethered.

And he found out what had happened in the island, and his glass castles crumbled to pieces at last.

He directed the children to their rooms, deciding that the discussion that he would soon have with the twins was something they didn’t need to hear. The kids obeyed without much fuss for once and he herded the twins to his study.

It wasn’t a storm that he had been dreading, but it was… something.

“You took my place,” Della accused, and it sounded like a repetition.

“You abandoned your place,” Donald threw back. “And don’t you tell me I was doing nothing. I was raising your kids for you. I was raising the kids of my dead sister who thought it was a good idea to go to space without preparation.”

“I’m not dead!”

“I thought you were! I thought you were, and there was no one to raise the kids!”

“Oh, that’s rich. It wasn’t like you raised them alone, Uncle Scrooge was there,” Della bit.

Scrooge shook his head. “No. I wasn’t there.”

Della turned to him slowly, uncertainly. “What do you mean, you weren’t there?”

“Donald took the kids and raised them on his own,” Scrooge explained. “I built the Spear for you and the kids. Donald didn’t want me to end up hurting them that way.”

“But you didn’t mean to get me stuck on the moon!” Della protested. “You raised us well!”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I had the ship built,” Scrooge pointed out. “I should have known you were never one to sit contently. I should have made sure you didn’t get into the Spear. I shouldn’t have built it in the first place.”

Scrooge had built many, many castles out of glass and held them together with pretense and stubborn denial, and wondered if Della did the same. He knew what it felt like to have his castles shatter, and he way Della stared at him reminded him of it.

“But… why?” she asked, turning to Donald.

“Because they’re yours,” Donald answered quietly, “and you weren’t there anymore.”

When Della failed to respond, Donald sighed and turned away, walking out of the room and closed the door with a soft click.

When Della truly crumbled at last, Scrooge was there to hold her together and take out the pieces of jagged glass she stubbornly clung to until they dig into her flesh. There wasn’t much he could do, but he would take her old hurts into his own heart if he could.

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Donald was sitting at the pier when Della found him, much later on, watching the sun dip into the waters and letting the red of the sky wash over his feathers. Della sat by his side, and when he didn’t move away, she took it as an invitation to stay.

They sat there, silently watching the sunset. After a while, Donald spoke up, “Did you ever really want the kids?”

Della breathed out. “I did,” she said. “I do. I wasn’t ready when I had them, and I’m still not ready now, but I’m not sorry I brought them into this world.”

“Then why did you leave?”

She blinked into the red light. “Because I do want them, but I didn’t want to be a mother, and I was scared.” She took a shaky breath. “I still am.”

“You have time to learn if you want to,” Donald pointed out. “And if the kids are okay with it.”

“No,” her answer was quick and steady. She wrung her fingers together. “They have had better and they deserve better than me. I’m… still not sure I want to be a mother at all, right now.” She turned to Donald and wondered how much growing up he had gone through in all the time she fled to the sky. “Donald, they’re so much more yours than they are mine.”

Donald stared and took her hand, letting his warm fingers curl around hers. It was forgiveness in all but words, and Della would weep if she still had tears to give.

“I still want to be a part of their life anyway,” Della stated.

“That’s not up to you,” Donald pointed out.

“I know.”

“It’s up to them.”

“I know.” Della closed her eyes. “Louie’s so mad at me. But I still want to be by their side, even if I can’t give them a mother.” She peered at Donald. “Does that make me selfish?”

“Yes,” Donald answered readily. “But everyone is, one way or another.”

Silence fell. After a while, Donald spoke up again, “I’m not sorry, either.”

“What?”

“That you brought them into the world,” Donald elaborated. “I’m not sorry, either. They’re the best thing that have happened to me.”

Della’s smile was small, and soft, and true. “That’s more proof that they’re yours.”

Donald returned the smile. “I’ve missed you.”

She closed her eyes and pressed their foreheads together. “I’ve missed you, too.”

They sat together silently, basking in the dying light of the sun, resting in a stagnant moment as long as it could last. Soon they would go back home to the stars of their sky and sweep away the broken glass and torn boards of the glass castles and cardboard houses they stubbornly held on to. There were still conversations to have, difficult ones with the triplets, but they would build another cottage soon, out of bricks and mortar and stones this time. It wouldn’t be a grand but brittle castle or a façade of a house; it would be a home, warm and loving and strong enough to withstand any hurricane, either from outside or in.

Della closed her eyes and breathed. She was selfish, and greedy, and not at all ready to take responsibility she decided to take on a whim and then fled from over a decade ago, but she was lucky in all the way that mattered, and she had so much more than she rightfully deserved. She curled her arms around what she had all the same and made them hers, and she would fight tooth and nail to keep them, and she would not flee again this time.

[duck-writer]

De-Aged Donald Duck AU Ch.2

Part one can be read here.

Louie paced back and forth frantically while his now de-aged uncle struggled to find his way out of the over-sized clothes. The image would have been adorable and maybe something worthy of slight blackmail material for the future if Louie wasn’t panicking about how badly a turn his plan took!

“Oh man, oh man, oh man...” He muttered to himself as he tried to think of what to do next. It was a horrible sudden reminder that he hadn’t really thought his plan through. 

He was completely fine with there no being a fix when it was him who would be de-aged and needed to be taken care of. Now he was sort of realizing that his family would most likely embark on some sort of quest or adventure to find a way to cure him. After that, he’d probably be grounded for a month if not more! 

“Halp! I needs halp! Dewwa!” 

“Aw man...that would be too cute any other day.” Louie had to admit to himself. Snapping out of his panic slightly, he knelt and helped his uncle out of his adult clothes. “There...better?” He asked gently. 

“Thank ‘ou.” Donald muttered but then wrapped his arms around himself. “No weally. Is cold.” Looking around he frowned before staring up at the other duck before him. “What yous name? Me’s Donal! ...have seen Dewwa? She wook lots wike me!” Donald said happily before he shivered a bit. 

Louie grabbed his uncle’s blazer and used it to wrap the young duckling in, and then picked him up. “Hi Donald. I’m Louie. Uh...can you tell me how old you are?”  

Donald wiggled in Louie’s hold as he tried to get his hands free and then he held up three fingers in one hand and another finger in the other. “Dewwa and Donal fouw!” But then he looked around and frowned at not seeing any trace of his sister. “Where Dewwa?”

“Uh...” Louie hesitated on how to answer. The way Donald was looking around, a slightly scared expression on his face brought back some memories of himself doing that. He used to do it a lot when they each finally got their own beds instead of sharing one. As much as he liked having his own thing, he was very used and very close to his brothers. Not to mention the night seemed scarier when he was on his own. 

Even though he was aware of his uncle and mother being twins, he didn’t think too much of it. But he supposed it made sense that they would have the same strong bond as he and his brothers did. 

Seeing more fear slip into his uncle’s face, Louie held him closer and rocked him a little. “Hey, it’s okay. Shh...you’re safe, I promise. I...I know this is scary, but it’s gonna be okay.” 

He wasn’t sure if it was going to be okay. In fact, he couldn’t even fathom how much trouble he was going to be in if he was caught. That was a thought for later though, his uncle needed to feel secure. Sneaking out of the garage, by some miracle he’s able to make it to the houseboat. He places his uncle Donald on the hammock and starts to look through some of their old belongings that should be in storage. 

“Aha!” He cheers when he finds an old suitcase. It was full of their old baby and toddler stuff. It took a bit of digging but he found Dewey’s old pair of PJs and got the younger duck into them. That at least solved the naked and cold problem. 

Now to think of what to do next. 

The responsible thing to do was to come clean and ask for help on how to fix this. 

That was going to have to wait because Louie heard a stomach growl and it wasn’t his. Looking over he saw the toddler look at him with big, pleading eyes and rubbing his tummy. “Hungy...”

“Four-year-olds can eat solid food right?” He asked his uncle as if he knew. Though the toddler nodded, he pulled out his phone and double-checked on the web just in case. 

Louie picked up the toddler and brought him into the kitchen area and sat him down on the floor so he could keep an eye on him. Looking around he debated on what was okay for the toddler to eat. His uncertainty made choosing hard, so in the end he grabbed some tangerines. Since they were kids his uncle always had them on the houseboat. They were juicy and fresh and very easy to peel. He peeled two and that was enough for now. Louie could go back to panicking about what to do next. 

“Louie?”

Louie’s head snapped towards the entrance when he heard his mom’s voice. “Oh crud!” 

Donald giggled at Louie’s choice of word, and even though he was moments away from being in trouble...that was just really cute. He didn’t have time to hide his uncle, so he simply begged for him to stay put while he handled the situation.

“Donald? Did Louie stop by here? I could have sworn I saw him with a-Oh! Louie, there you are.” Della said when she was greeted by Louie at the stairs. 

“Hi! Uh...what’s up?”

“It’s almost time for bed. The boys said you were having a talk with your uncle, but I thought I saw you running away from the house. Thought I’d check to see if everything was okay?” Della knew that she and Louie still had work to do before they were 100% on the same page. As much as she wanted to come back to her eggs and be accepted as their mother fully she was learning to accept that their mentalities were different. While she had them on her mind all the time she was on the moon, they and the rest of the world had assumed the worst. She had to be patient...not her best virtue, but at least her best practiced one on while away. 

“Sure! Everything is a-okay! Dandy even, ya know?” Louie did his best to sound nonchalant and cool about the situation. 

Della’s parental instincts immediately kicked in and her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Where’s your Uncle Donald?”

“...he’s in here. Ya know, having a snack.” It wasn’t a lie. 

“Well, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if his sister came in and wished him goodnight,” Della said and tried to take a step down. 

Louie blocked her from doing so by standing in her way with his arms stretched out, “No! You...you can’t! Uh, see thing is...uh....since Storkules Uncle Donald’s been really strict about who comes in and...and I think that’s just something we should respect, ya know?” 

“Louie. What’s going on?” Della asked as she knelt down and tried to get a view inside. 

“Nothing!” Louie tried to insist. 

“Momma?” 

Both Louie and Della stilled. Louie turned around and saw his toddler uncle at the foot of the stairs staring up at them. Louie was already scrambling to explain himself, tears of frustration and guilt as he knew he was in trouble and rightly so. 

Whatever form of yelling he expected didn’t come however. Looking up at his mom, he saw a pained and still somehow soft expression as she made her way down the stairs and picked up toddler Donald. 

The toddler in turn furrowed his brow as he got a better look at the woman who was holding him. He crossed his arms and huffed, “Twick! No momma!”

“I...no. I...Oh god, Donald.” She breathed and held the toddler close as she tried and failed to fight back tears. 

Donald fussed and wiggled until Della had no choice but to set him down. He looked between Louie and Della and his bill began to quiver because he was scared! He didn’t know them! He didn’t know where he was! “I wan’ go home! To momma and daddy! An’ Dewwa! Now!” 

“Hey, it’s okay little dude...” Louie tried to calm him down. 

It seemed like his uncle’s anger issues stemmed way back. He could see a temper tantrum about to come on and he could guess it wasn’t going to be pretty. 

But before he could explode, his mom knelt in front of toddler Donald and grabbed his hand. It confused both Louie and Donald for a second, and then Donald’s face shifted to slightly more confusion and then wonder as his mom traced something in the palm of his uncle’s hand. 

Toddler Donald looked up with wonder and confusion as he asked, “Dewwa?”

Della smiled sadly but nodded, “Yeah, Donnie...it’s me.” 

Donald’s bill quivered a bit more, then he began to hit and punch at Della but it didn’t have the anger that had been building up before. “You meanie! You’s old! No fair, no fair, no fair!” 

“Hey. Ow, okay...hey, look. It’s okay Donnie. It’s okay!” Della tried to soothe him. 

Donald jumped back and glared at Della, eyes glistening with tears that streamed down his face. He stomped his feet and had his hands balled into fists at his sides, “It no kay! Dewwa gwow up wiffou’ Donal! Das no how posed go! We posed to go togatha! Das wha’ twins posed do!” Then he fell back on his butt and began to cry, “You’s leave me! Is no fair!” 

Though she didn’t know how it came to be, she got the impression that Donald didn’t have the memories passing the age his body was at, at the moment. He didn’t mean to hurt her, he wasn’t aware of the events with the Spear of Selene. She’d been so focused on the pain she caused for leaving and the consequences of not being there for her sons, she hadn’t paid that much attention to the fact that she left Donald behind too. 

Her twin. 

She pulled him back into her arms, even as he struggled a bit. Eventually, he just clung to her and cried, and she joined him. 

Louie felt very awkward, as if he was intruding in a moment he wasn’t invited to. 

Before he could make his escape or excuse himself, Dewey alerted them of his presence, Huey and Webby not too far behind. 

“Whoa, no way! Was there a fourth brother? And are those my old pjs?!”

~~~~~~~

Chapter two! I hope you guys like it >.> ! 

[a-whole-cosmo]

First joined fic, Trans Louie

Blue is @midnight-fries

Green is @wxrm-pxddxng

Louie was nervous, his Uncle was really protective and he, from his inquieries, only knows Donald isn't against the rainbow community but never dared to ask "what if it was me"

He enters the room, tugging on his hoodie, preparing a backup plan for what if. what if's, always running through his mind.

A thousand miles per second. But he had to do this, he couldn't live to hide anymore. He brought his arm up, reassuring himself. It's fine, you rehearsed this before. To say he was nervous would be an understatement, Uncle Donald would be the first person he would be coming out to. He took a deep breath. He knocked. 

"Uncle Donald? Can I come in?" He gulped. "I.. I gotta tell you something." He fiddled with the sleeves of his hoodie, waiting for his Uncle's green lights to enter.

Uncle Donald didn't respond, so maybe he didn't hear him?

"It's... It's just me. Good old Ly... You already know who."

Louie introduced himself shortly, hoping it was enough for his Uncle to recognize who he was. He needed to buy time.

"It's open. "

Donald replied. It was surprising how Louie could understand his voice, but he had years of listening to it so he and his siblings made it work. The green coded triplet walked into the room. Shorter steps than usual, but also slower.

The more time he took to get there, the more time he had to rehearse in his mind.

'Uncle Donald, I'm trans. This means that I experience a thing called gender dysphoria. It's probably hard to understand, but I trust you and basically, I want to be referred by Louie and he/him pronouns, please.'

He had this little speech prepared to the point he had written it down in his room multiple times until it was engraved in his mind.

Wait, did he throw that note away?

He didn't have time to think of that now as he was finally near Donald.

Donald already knew who it was, he just needed to buy himself some time.

Bills were stacking up, he was trying to find a way to pay them before owing people.

He didn't want Louie, out of them all, to find any, so he hid them, any trace of dept.

He had the time to stuff them all in a drawer before his kid came in.

Now, he had an idea as to what the youngest wanted to talk about, he saw how uncomfortable, well until he knew what the green one identified as, they got when they were addressed by feminine names or even their nickname.

Once he saw the way they were heading towards him, he knew he was right, he remembered his thoughts on the day he had to talk to his Uncle about it.

"Hi Sweetheart, take a seat." He said, patting the free space next to him in the hammock in case they didn't understand his vocal instructions. Looking up, Louie found himself shaking. He obliged his uncle's request with his help.

He found that he could barely breath, he wad there too soon, steps not short enough, his mind was blanked out from all he previously wanted to say, all that was there was an image of his Uncle hating him, he couldn't picture that but.. it was a possibility, he wanted to run, why did he think this was a good idea? It probably wasn't even true, did he really have to tell him?

His Uncle's voice broke through his thoughts, he felt himself being lifted and placed in a warm, parental embrace, it was comforting, he didn't know how he could live without it.

"Deep breaths  honey, it's gonna be fine, you can tell me anything." His uncle whispered words of reassurance in his ears.

"You know there would be nothing you could say that could make me hate you, love." Louie didn't realize his eyes were shut until he opened them, looking directly into the honest eyes of his Uncle.

"I'm here to support you"

That was all Louie needed to hear. Maybe it was too much for the little duckling.

"I ju... just... justasecond"

Louie needed to collect his thoughts and stop himself from crying. A million scenarios of him getting kicked out or misgendered on purpose raced through his mind, even if the words of support he heard were comforting. The anxiety was overwhelming him.

Donald kept the embrace, like a father hugging his son for a while. Louie knew it was too late to turn back now. He just has to rip it off, like a bandaid.

"I'm... " "I.. " bandaid

"I'm a trans guy and please stop using my deadname!"

Louie blurted, quick and unexpected. He then put a hand over his mouth, and let out a muffled sob.

Donald was not surprised, but he was not expecting th-him to blurt it out like that, he couldn't blame him though, it was stressful to come out to somebody you love.

So many possibilities, good, bad, all the scenarios his kid.. his nephew had probably swarming through his head-His kid probably took his silence as punishment as he started rambling,

"Wait do you know what a transgender person is? Wait-no forget everything I said actually this was a bad idea-" "Honey, breath for a second, okay?" Donald cut him off. He put a hand on his head, ruffling his hair gently, his nephew, who he had to ask about his preferred name too, pushed his hand away out of instinct. Donald brought him in again, he knew he needed physical comfort when he was nervous, hugs, cuddles, even a single hand on his shoulder would help calming him down.

"I know what a transgender person is, and considering how accepting she was when I came out, I know your mother would be proud of you... I know I am." Donald felt him clutching his shirt, a wet stain forming where the youngest triplet's face was. Donald felt him lifting his face to look at him,

"when-when you? Oh my god, no way-" Donald chuckled, "What would you like me to call you by?"

"Louie!" Well, he must've thought about that a lot seeing how immediate his answer was.

"Well, Louie, I told you, there's nothing that you could say, do or be that would make me hate you, I'm so proud of you, love." He shifted his fingers through Louie's hair, bringing his thoughts into less of a spiral.

Louie smiled brightly, nearly not believing this turned out so well, he even knew something his siblings didn't know! Who woulda thought Uncle Donald was like him?

"Thank you, Da-Uncle- Uncle Donald, Thank you so much." He sniffled, God why did he have to be so emotional, he didn't know why it made him feel better when he saw his uncle tearing up as well.

"No problem, Louie..."

Honestly, Louie wanted to stay there for a while. The green nephew-, it felt so relieving to call himself that now, felt so nice and comfortable after he let that out.

That didn't match his expression though. He was sniffing and crying and it looked ugly but he didn't feel ugly and that was what was important to him.

He felt safe and in the weirdest way free. Free from something that had been building up for not even he remembers how long.

He still remembered the day he discovered the meaning of trans. He was on his phone as always, using it for information for once instead of doing anything else he usually did. That's when he came across the LGBT community. He had to admit for a while before he came out to himself he identified as genderfluid or non-binary, a form of repression for him, but not everyone uses it to repress.

For him it definitely was.

But that didn't feel right. The name he chose as non-binary stuck, but the pronouns just felt off to him, even though he wants to get used to them because they felt better than she.

Finally after debating and questioning his sexuality for months because, if he really was a boy why we're boys so cute and boys aren't supposed to love boys he heard from a teacher, which he learned was called a homophobe.

He finally figured it out.

And he was happy with the result.

Recalling the memory of when he stopped feeling wrong helped Louie calm himself down.

The last squeeze of his uncle and he released him.

"Thank.. Thank you, Uncle Donald.." Louie couldn't thank him enough, never. He hopped off of the hammock and Donald did the same. The bills will have to wait a bit longer.

"So, I guess this means that I have three nephews now?"

Donald asked in a fond voice, making his son nephew smile in return. Only for it to falter, because as soon as he opened the door he was greeted by his siblings, who were... smiling?

They both immediately tackled him in a hug, the three of them rolling on the ground for a bit. All of them erupted into a fit of laughter. "I have a brother!"

Dewey said in a joking manner, just trying to say something to signify that he was fine with it.

"Aww... My sweet nephews..."

Donald said fondly, but two of them didn't seem to find it that appealing to be called that.

The blue and the red one looked at him.

"Not exactly" "About that..."

They said, at the same time, different things, but with the same intention.

[janetbrown711]

“I didn’t mean to wake you up…” Huey Dewey Louie

The month in which Donald was gone felt like it would never end, at least to Louie. He appreciated his mom and her efforts to make up for the gap, but it still felt empty. He missed his jokes.

They all did, but they didn't admit it to each other. After all, he was having the time of his life! Relaxing and taking a break away from their chaos. It was a shame he didn't get to see his sister though. But soon enough, he'd come home.

Right...?

Louie's subconscious never seemed to agree. At least one dream every three days was about Donald being in trouble. Once, he even imagined he was taken prisoner by aliens. Louie knew the idea was ridiculous but still, they haunted him.

The nightmares would feel so real and intense he often found himself unable to sleep, and sometimes he'd wake up at 12:30 am and would have to find a way to spend the next eight or nine hours.

He often could himself wandering into the houseboat. One time none other than Della was there, but most times he found himself entirely alone.

He didn't like the feeling of the houseboat when he was alone. It was cold and unfamiliar, lacking the warm feeling he had craved. But he stayed there night upon night when he found himself alone with his insomnia.

He missed Donald.

One night he awoke, shooting straight up in his bed, heart and head pounding, and clutching his mattress. He sat awhile, clearing his mind and making sure he hadn't awoken his brothers. He rubbed his face and groaned to himself as he checked the time on his phone.

1:34.

What a miserable time.

He grabbed his hoodie from the ground and put it on over his pajamas before walking his way down the stairs and to the houseboat as was usual now. It was so routine now that Duckworth didn't even question seeing the young boy walk through the moonlit halls at an hour of which only he was usually awake (not that ghosts could sleep per se. It was more like he was the only one doing things that early in the morning).

He went to the pool and went into the houseboat, keeping the light off and walking straight to Donald's room and picking up a book while lying in his hammock. His eyes glossed over the words, not taking them in. His mind wandered elsewhere, though he couldn't quite explain what it was he was thinking. Eventually he closed it and sighed.

He really missed Donald.

He leaned back in the hammock and closed his eyes, realizing the familiar feeling of Donald in the hammock was starting to fade. Louie's eyes shot open at the realization and he got off, lying on the floor instead. He stared vaguely at the hammock, not really thinking anything. It was really too early for cognitive thought.

"Louie?" A voice called behind him. Louie shot up and had to focus his eyes as he saw vague silhouettes of his brothers against the light.

"Oh sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up..." Huey apologized.

"What're you doing here?" Dewey asked, crossing his arms.

"I could ask the same of you," Louie instinctively got defensive.

"Welllll... we noticed you haven't been sleeping well since Donald left and we just both decided that maybe it was time we came to check up on you," Huey explained. Louie eyed him.

"Why now? Why not earlier or later? And how did you know I was in the houseboat?" He questioned.

"We didn't know if it was getting better, we knew someone came to comfort you last week, we assume mom, and it's clear you're missing Donald and I've seen you through the window walk in here half asleep," Huey explained.

"Yeah, you really aren't that sneaky," Dewey smirked a little.

"Yeah yeah, I get it. What's your point?" Louie crossed his arms.

"Well..." Huey and Dewey shared a look.

"We were missing Donald too," Dewey sighed. Louie sat a moment.

"Oh..." he mustered. He didn't know why, but he hadn't considered his brothers missed Donald almost as much as he did too.

"I know, i know, its hard to realize the world doesn't revolve around you," Dewey teased, but Huey elbowed him which made him quickly drop his attitude.

"So... now what?" Louie sheeped, curling his knees to his chest.

"Well- I- uh..." Huey scratched the back of his neck. Clearly, he hadn't thought this through.

"I mean... we do have to go on an adventure again tomorrow, so i guess our best option is to just stay here and sleep," Dewey said.

"You are so stupid. I can't sleep," Louie shot a look.

"You sleep during the day," Dewey pointed out defensively.

"Short bursts and who cares. It's not enough. I... I want Donald back," he shuddered and rubbed his arms.

"Hey," Huey crouched down to his level, "The month is almost over. He'll be back soon." His attempt at comfort was somewhat effective but Louie still wasn't reassured. Huey must've seen his hesitations because he touched his shoulder and added on.

"You're dreams aren't real. He's out there on a cruise, relaxing like a king, just like he deserves," He smiled softly.

"...you promise?" Louie asked. Dewey glanced at Huey, unsure if that'd be wise.

"I promise," Huey didn't heed Dewey's silent warning. Louie slowly nodded.

"Okay... I... i might be able to sleep now," Louie stood up.

"We can sleep in here and together if you'd like," Huey suggested. Dewey nodded in agreement.

"I'd... like that," Louie nodded too. Slowly (and through a few flipping overs) the three brothers got onto Donald's hammock and it rocked the three of them asleep together, sound in the comfort of having each other.

[transdonaldduck]

94: dewey and donald?

Donald, for all intents and purposes, was not a light sleeper. He could sleep through practically anything the world tried to throw at him- harpies, tornados, Uncle Scrooge banging on his door when he was late for school- but as he’d grown older and especially since he’d taken in the boys, he had this sort of sixth sense when he slept- he liked to call it his uncle senses- that let him know when the boys needed him, or were up to no good. He’d woken up form a dead sleep before with no clue why before he’d realized Louie’d had a fever before, and there were many instances just like that in the years that followed. it was just a thing, and he’d always sort of appreciated that he was so atuned to them he’d wake up at the slightest hint of anything wrong.

So when he wakes up for no reason one summer night, blinking up at the ceiling in the houseboat, his first thought is that something’s up. He sits up as much as his hammock allows, blinking sleep out of his eyes and- there’s a knock at his door. it actually startles him enough to jump, the boys had been staying inside the Manor, so he was supposed to be alone.

“...Uncle Donald?” Dewey’s voice rings out, soft and hesitant, as if he wasn’t quite sure yet he wanted to wake up his Uncle.

“Come in.” Donald calls, and the door opens up.

Dewey stands there, hand on the doorknob, “Uhm. Hi.” He says uncertainly, his feathers are messed up around his eyes as if he’d been wiping away tears. His beak trembles a little bit, “I’m sorry I woke you up.” He starts, voice shaking just a little bit.

Donald shakes his head, “You didn’t wake me up,” He fibs, “I was already awake.”

“Oh...” Dewey trails off, taking his hand off the door knob to clasp them infront of his body, “Why?”

“Well... actually, I had a bad dream again.” Donald tells him softly.

“Like the other night too?”

“Yeah.” Donald nods, “I’m actually really happy you came to see me, it’s hard to be alone after a nightmare... Would you come sit with me?”

Dewey nods immediately, ducking out of the doorway and to the hammock, where Donald lifts him up and holds him as he leans back, letting Deweys head rest on his chest. “...Was your dream scary?” He asks tentatively, when they’d both settled in.

“It was.” Dewey looks up at him with wide eyes, “I was lost, very far away, and no one knew I was gone, and I couldn’t get back to you boys no matter how hard I tried.”

They lapse into silence for a very long time, long enough that Donald’s almost asleep again, before Dewey speaks up, “ I had a bad dream too.”

Donald knows Dewey had a nightmare, he knows thats the reason he’d come onto the houseboat that night, he’d done it a few other times these past few months. He also knew Dewey didn’t like coming to the houseboat- not that he didn’t love Donald or want comfort, but just that Dewey figured he was too old to be hiding in his parents room after a scary dream. He waits patiently for Dewey to continue, offering just a gentle hum to let him know he was listening.

“... in the dream we couldn’t figure out the treasure room in atlantis, and the water filled up, and then suddenly I was at the bottom of the ocean and you and Uncle Scrooge weren’t around to help me, and I drowned.” Dewey admits haltingly, voice catching again.

Donald reaches up and smooths down Deweys hair, holding him closer when he began to tremble, “It’s alright, I know it was scary, you’re okay.” Dewey swallows audibly, gasping a little bit, “Both of our nightmares were very scary, but remember, they were just dreams, they’ll never happen. I’ll always be right here.” he reassures him, kissing the top of his head. “Always, okay? I’m here.”

Dewey presses himself closer, breathing out another hard breath. The night goes on, and eventually, they both manage to fall asleep.

it’s peaceful.

[pilyarquitect]

"56. “It’s so good to see your face.”" with Paperinik/Duck Avenger (are you in than fandom though? lol) and Della, in English could ya?

Hi anon, I’m not actually in Paperinik/Duck Avenger fandom, I think I only know that he is Donald, isn’t he? 

But with that limited knolege, I wrote this, I hope you’ll like it.

56. “It’s so good to see your face.”

Donald looked at his Paperinik suit. He couldn’t remember the last time that he actually used it… well that was a lie, he remembered when he really stopped his hero activities, when Della got pregnant.

At that moment, he took a choice, the choice to be there with his family instead of living adventures and putting himself in risk unnecessarily. And he knew he took the right choice when Della disappeared. Della’s kids needed someone who took care of them, and Donald knew he had to be this someone.

But things were different now, Della was back, the kids were preteens now, they were learning to solve their problems by themselves, they didn’t need him as much as they needed when they were just toddlers. They’d grow up, and Donald was really proud of them and the kind of boys they become.

The sailor dressed duck sighed looking his suit again. He felt nostalgic, nostalgic for all the patrol nights he expend protecting Duckburg. He never told Scrooge or Della about his secret job, he never felt the need to share this with them actually, both were good adventuring, he was good acting as a hero, and everyone was happy.

Donald raised a hand, touching the fabric. He knew that new superheroes where protecting the city, Gizmoduck, this robot guy that Huey admired so much, and the other guy, a duck named… what was his name…? Oh right, Darkwing Duck, Dewey talked about him.

Donald sighed again. Then an idea came to his mind.

“Maybe… maybe I can patrol just one night, for the old times”

Donald smiled, why not? Do a night patrol wouldn’t kill anyone, this was just to look over the city and maybe stop a minor thief or something like that. The duck smiled more than before and he took the suit. He was about to do it, just one night.

Donald dressed himself with the suit and then he looked himself at the mirror.

“Ah… how I missed this”

Then he started to make some of the moves he used to do when he was fighting crime, he needed to be prepared if he wanted to go on patrol.

Paperinik jumped through the room but doing so his leg got stuck with his hammock, making him fall on the boats ground. The hero duck heard a noise coming from the outside of his room.

Oh, oh

Who was there? He had to hide, hurry! Nobody could see him dressed like that! Paperinik tried to find a place to hide, but there was no space!

Oh Phooey, why had he to life in such limited space? The door opened and Della’s worried face appeared.

“Donald? Is everything okay?” she asked incoming into the room. She stopped looking surprised when she saw him.

Opening and closing her beak several times, he managed to say:

“Paperinik? What are you doing here in my brother’s room?”

Donald relaxed a little, it seems that Della didn’t recognized him, perfect, he could play dumb and try to sneak out of there. With this idea in mind he said:

“Oh… hi… random citizen… I was… just….”

Suddenly Della started to laugh uncontrollably, and then she said:

“Please, please, Donald, stop”

Donald was surprised, she knew?

“How do you know it’s me?” he asked with surprised voice. Della tried to control herself and she answered:

“Oh please, I’ve always known, we both knew it”

“Both? You mean… uncle Scrooge?” asked Donald again with a little panic in his voice.

Della made a pfff and she answered:

“Who else numskull?”

Donald facepalmed while he said:

“Oh phooey”

Della approached to him and putting a hand on his shoulder she explained:

“Come on Donnie, it wasn’t hard to imagine, a superhero that talks in a… such… interesting… way”

Donald narrowed his eyes at her and said:

“You can say it, incomprehensible”

Della stopped smiling and bowing her head she talked again:

“Oh, Donald I didn’t want to offend you, you know”

Donald looked away, unable to make eye contact with his twin and then answered:

“Yeah, I know, but I also know that it’s true, nobody can understand me”

Della pointed at herself and with proud voice she said:

“Hey, I can… most of the time”

Donald looked at her again with narrowed eyes and with sarcastic voice he replied:

“Thanks Della, really helpful”

Della moved a little away and sounding hurt she said then:

“I’m sorry Donald I didn’t want to make you mad”

“Yeah, but…” said Donald looking away again.

“You are” finished Della.

Donald nodded and said just a simple word:

“Yes”

Both stayed quiet for an unknown time until suddenly Della sighed and sounding joyful again she started:

“You know?”

Donald looked at her but he didn’t say anything, he just waited his sister to talk, and she did it with a big smile in her face:

“It’s so good to see your face, Paperinik”

Donald smiled, he didn’t expect that, but… he liked, a lot. Totally honest, he answered:

“Thanks Della”

Seeing that his brother was livelier, Della asked then:

“Are you planning to come back, officially?”

Donald shocked his head and answered:

“Just this night”

“Oh…” said Della at the same time she stopped smiling. Donald looked at her very confused and then he asked:

“What does it mean?”

With sad face, Della explained to her brother:

“I hoped you to be Paperinik at full time, like before”

Donald couldn’t believe it, was his sister serious?

“R-Really?” with shocked voice.

Della nodded smiling again and then she explained with joy voice:

“Of course, you helped a lot of people as Paperinik, I was proud of you”

Donald’s heart melted, he never knew his sister thought this of him, to be honest, there was no way he could knew, because he didn’t know his sister knew he was Paperinik. It all was an ignorance situation. Even that, Donald was plenty of joy, and with grateful voice he said:

“Awwww, thanks Della”

Della approached to her brother saying:

“You’re welcome, Paperinik”

And then both hugged.

[donaldduckau]

Donald having decide the triplets were old enough to sleep without him in the room starts to prepare their room and his hammock.

He just finished the triplets room a week before and very proud of himself but every night the triplets starting with louie then dewey with huey last coming to him and asking to sleep with him for the night as they were scared.

Donald accept but knew that this couldn't keep happening so he starts to create three plush versions of himself for triplets with each matching the colour code of the other triplets.

The triplets accepted the plushes with great joy and they worked greatly, the triplets slowly didn't need to come to him with few cases.

however as they grew older they stopped needing the plushes with Donald keeping two out of three as Louie hadn't given Donald his and Donald wasn't going to take it.

Della comes across the plush of her brother when she goes to say goodnight to her boys with dewey and huey saying goodnight whilst a already asleep Louie had the plush of Donald in his arms tight close to his chest.

This scene of her boy clutching a plush of her brother whom raised her kids instead of her because of her own mistake just made della more determine to prove and become the mother her kids deserved.

[shadowluverworks]

Remissionem - Chapter 1

Finally getting to post this! If you guys would rather read it on archive, fanfiction, deviantart, or inkbunny, you can find it under the username: Shadowluver1242

Special thanks to @galoots for reading through and editing this! Read the story below.

The Wound A Word Opens

           Scrooge McDuck: the richest duck in the world. He has more money than one could ever dream of, and he made it square. On top of being a businessman, the duck’s a world-renowned explorer. Solving mysteries and rewriting history is his pastime, and his family shares in the love of adventure...that is, all but one. Donald Duck is not as graceful as his uncle, not as smart as his twin, and much more prone to getting hurt than having fun. After losing Della to the call of the great unknown, his view of the “family business” soured even more. However, his three nephews, Della’s kids, have shown the same passion their mother and great uncle shared. After many deliberations with himself, he finally conceded in allowing the triplets to accompany the entrepreneur in his travels.

           There were, of course, strict rules to follow. Donald doesn’t just give the responsibility of his nephews’ lives to anyone. Even with his inhibitions, he relinquished his family to Scrooge McDuck. Heaven help the old miser if something were to happen to those three. Donald had already lost one family member too many, and he’s determined not to lose another.

           The sailor had made a personal vow of no more adventuring. Those days were long gone for him. He had never felt as much of a rush and received such enjoyment out of it as his kin did, which is why he’s currently relaxing on the hammock of his house boat. His family has another journey planned for today, but rather than worry about them returning safely, as he usually does, he attempts to keep his mind at bay with a nap. But fate never seems to be on Donald’s side, and at a loud shout of his name, he’s awakened by the thwack of his face meeting the boat’s wooden floor.

With a groan, he rubs his head as his eyes open sleepily. In front of his beak are spat-clad feet, and he doesn’t need to guess twice to know who’s interrupted his beauty sleep, “Scrooge?” He sits up with a scowl. He should ask why the old duck is on his boat, but then again, his boat is in Scrooge’s pool. Feeling rather agitated at the rude awakening, his mood is more combative than normal, “What do you want?!”

The Scottish duck pushes away the slight pain in his chest at the absence of ‘Uncle’ before his name. That’s been increasing in regularity ever since the events of the Sunchaser. Maybe his nephew had only been referring to him as that in front of his great nephews all this time? After his reputation had been dirtied in their eyes, Donald has been more frequently dropping the ‘Uncle’ and simply calling him ‘Scrooge’. He despises that.

But that’s not what he’s here for. Ever since the Shadow War and nearly losing his family for good, he’s been trying to rekindle the relationship long lost between him and his nephew. It’s been a rocky road at best, and the two of them have been known to lose their tempers at a drop of a hat. So today he chooses to keep the smile on his beak as he addresses the duck kneeling before him, “Came teh invite ye. Teh kids ‘n ah thought it might be fun teh have a sort of...” he waves a hand around, trying to come up with the words, “...family adventure.”

He can feel his fight or flight instinct kicking in. Scrooge is skilled at many things in life, talking to his own kin, however, was a skill he did not possess. Part of him wants to run and pretend he never asked while the other is still hopeful his nephew will accept his offer. Though the rather confused look that comes over Donald’s face as he stands up does nothing to soothe the old duck.

The sailor crosses his arms in front of his chest, “You know I don’t adventure anymore.” He looks his uncle up and down. The old man is good at hiding his feelings, but Donald has known him for years.

Scrooge was obviously nervous, “A-Ah knoo, but, well it’s just been a long time since ye’ve gone ‘n...ah jus-”

Donald holds up a hand to stop him, “I don’t adventure anymore because someone always gets hurt.”

His uncle blinks as he turns away to walk out onto the deck of his houseboat. He’s not surprised when he’s followed, “Thas’ nae troo! We’ve bin on several trips now ‘n everyone always comes back in one piece!”

Donald leans over the railing and looks over his shoulder at the other, “In one piece, yes, but I have to take care of the bumps and bruises!”

Dark turquoise eyes flick away at that. Sure, there are small injuries here and there, but no one had lost a limb or worse! You can’t live if you’re afraid to get hurt! In the past, Donald had been the one to sustain most of the injuries, and perhaps that is where the insecurities are coming from now. But the boys are skilled where their uncle is not. They take after their mother and himself. But then even Della had...

Scrooge frowns at the duck across him, “Thas’ part a teh fun! A bruise ‘r a scar lef’ behind tae remind ye of teh adventure when ye got it! Ye’ve got tae make memories while ye can, lad! Besides, those wee boys are much more capable than yer givin’ them credit fer.”

Donald’s eyes narrow and he straightens, glaring at the other, “I know they’re capable, why do you think I let them go with you?!” He can’t protect them from everything, they would never live!

His uncle’s brows furrow, bringing a hand to his chest, “Donald, ah knoo ye worry fer them, but ye can-” Scrooge cuts himself off, his eyes lower to the boat floor. He can’t finish that sentence because it’s not true.

But his nephew knew what he was about to say, and it only seems to stoke the sailor’s internal furnace, “I can what? Trust you?! I think you’ve made it very apparent that I can’t!” Scrooge’s eyes lift to glare at his kin. His instinct is to defend himself, but he keeps his beak shut for once, jaw clenching.

Donald continues in his fit, “The only reason I let the boys go adventuring with you is so they can get it out of their systems. So that maybe they’ll grow bored of it while they’re still young and can move on with their lives before something terrible happens! I know they’re already better at it than I was because they still actually want to go. They’re only ten years old, but I trust them and their decisions in this! Do you know how sad it is that I trust children more than I trust the adult in charge of them?!”

For a long time, Scrooge knew how Donald felt deep down, but hearing it so blatantly out of the young lad he raised, that all faith in him was lost, it stings. Like many times before, Scrooge abandons any hurt feelings in exchange for anger. His teeth grit as he takes a step forward, “At least when teh boys are with me, a successful businessman, they might learn a thing er two on how tae supply fer themselves once day instead a livin’ on a boat in their uncle’s swimmin’ pool and moochin’ off his hard-earned wages!” He wanted to take that back as soon as he said it. He knows more than anyone that even if Donald was lazy in nature, the duck had tried everything to hold on to a job to support his family. It wasn’t for a lack of trying, he would take any job if it meant providing a safe environment for the boys to grow up in.

Scrooge’s outburst was out of line, but he can’t take it back. Especially not with the hurt expression that quickly flashes across his nephew’s face. Though it’s instantly hid behind anger once again, as their family is known to do. Donald’s fists shake at his side, but he doesn’t blow his top. Instead his voice lowers to a mock calm, “Really? Alright. Why don’t I just see how much they’re learning, then?” With that, he gives his uncle a shoulder shove out of his way and marches off the boat, shouting, “I’ll get Launchpad to move the boat back to the marina after!” over his shoulder. The old coot wanted a family trip? He’ll get a family trip.

As the sailor enters the mansion to most likely cut through and get to the front yard where Launchpad and the children were waiting, the rich avian allows his face to fall in shame. This is not the way to repair the bond with his kin and he knows it. He hadn’t meant a word he said; Scrooge didn’t want Donald to leave, quite the opposite actually. He scolds himself for letting his anger once again take control of his tongue. This adventure is no longer sounding as fun as it did a few minutes ago.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

           Donald mostly ignores what exactly the treasure they’re after is. Most likely something gold and cursed if he knows his uncle. It had been several hours since their argument this morning and they both had time to cool down, but neither made a move to apologize. They mostly avoided one another.

The Duck’s and McDuck’s are good at arguing, not so much at having heart to hearts; a trait that Donald has attempted to break in his nephews. From a young age he made sure to talk out any disagreements with the boys, whether between they and him, or among the triplets themselves. Kids can hold onto grudges, but Huey, Dewey, and Louie had always been inspiring at resolving their fights before it ruined any relationships.

           Scrooge had not been raised that way. He had, in a sense, raised himself since the age of 13, and, knowing nothing about being a parent, had raised Donald and Della from a young age as well. Della had always been better at talking about her feelings, but it wasn’t the same for Donald, at least not with his uncle. He’s learned a lot raising her sons, but the way the relationship was severed between his uncle and he is something not easily mended.

Donald sighs, his glance once again settles on the old duck. They had pushed their anger away for the children, not wanting to bring any negative feelings to the adventure. Webby and the triplets crowd around Scrooge’s seat next to Launchpad in the cockpit of the Sunchaser. He’s explaining the history of the location and what they’ll be looking for, but the sailor isn’t listening. His mind is years away in the distant past when he and his twin had the same wide and excited eyes the ducklings now have. Where had the time gone?

When they arrive several hours later at the ancient Mayan Ruins in Central America, the crew managing to escape a water landing by a feather’s length, his uncle takes the lead through the deep jungle while he brings up the rear himself, leaving Launchpad and the plane behind. They have yet to truly enter the temple ahead, but small native structures could be seen rising and falling through the thicket. The trees above them grow together so close in their canopy, only small rivers of light can be seen cascading through the leaves and lighting the world around them.

The dirt path they’ve taken eventually turns to a stone one. So battered is the path, that the stepping-stones are often broken or missing in places. Small green flora has managed to take root, and they rise up a few inches out of the small cracks of earth the pathway gives way to.

The group hikes for a few miles before the trail leads them to a small mountain, or rather large hill depending on how you look at it, gradually rising them higher out of the undergrowth. Huey occupies himself with identifying different plants, animals, and insects they pass along the way, while also keeping a sharp eye out for any poisonous ones. Webby next to him is jabbering about the native culture and history of the ruins around them.

Louie trails behind, just in front of Donald. He wipes the sweat off his brow as his bangs cling to his face; he should have packed a t-shirt. The humidity is suffocating, as if you can take a handful of the air itself, and the heat draining. You can practically feel yourself becoming dehydrated. He doesn’t know how the others can manage so well.

Dewey stays closely behind his great uncle, wanting more than anything to swing through the trees on vines and cut his way through the vegetation. Scrooge had strictly advised against such acts however, insisting he would lead the way on this expedition, and that everyone was to stay behind him. The kids have noticed his behavior is a bit off today, but don’t bring it up.

           The old duck grits his teeth. Curse the arthritis in his hips. The pain in his legs had started this morning after his and Donald’s argument, and had seemed to only get worse the farther he traveled. He’d hoped moving would bring some relief, however it only increases the closer they get to the temple. It was almost as if his experienced body is giving him a warning. But that’s ridiculous; surely, it’s just one of the many days when his age is making itself known to him. Nevertheless, he’s being extra cautious today just to be safe, especially with his nephew keeping a close eye on him.

He’s sure he’s slowing the group down with his sluggish pace. He hates the fact his cane is proving to be more and more necessary. Most days he has no symptoms whatsoever, and finds little use for it, but then there are days like today when he doesn’t know if he can remain upright without the extra support. Scrooge shakes his head to focus on the task at hand; he can’t let himself be distracted, that’s when someone can get hurt, and that’s not going to happen today.

The group has reached a rather open area, making him take pause. To their right, more jungle reaching up and over their heads as the hill continues upward. To their left, an unnaturally clear view from the trees that shows how high they’ve already climbed. A gravel-like hillside drops abruptly to jungle nearly a hundred feet below. Off in the distance you can barely make out the bright light of the sun reflecting off the metal wings of the Sunchaser in a small clearing near the lake. More jungle filled mountains continue for as far as the eye can see.

Ahead of them, the path leads to a stone door with a rather threatening face carved into it, a trademark symbol of the natives that used to inhabit this land. The door is attached to the beginnings of the temple; however, hundreds of years have made the living forest become one with it, and most of the structure is covered under vegetation. It looks as if it was built into the mountain itself. The entrance lays about a hundred yards yet ahead of them. The senior duck’s eyes narrow; something isn’t right. Everything is too perfectly cleared away.

           Donald hasn’t been watching exactly where he’s walking. The sounds of the forest have distracted and brought him back to adventures of old he’d shared with his family. Looking to his right, his attention is further distracted by a blue morpho fluttering about before silently landing on a native flower blooming on one of the many trees. He hasn’t noticed his uncle and the kids pause at the clearing, that is until he collides with his elder.

The old duck is pushed a few feet ahead and nearly collapses with a wince when the stone he steps on suddenly lowers underneath his weight. The switch seems to have activated a centuries’ old booby trap, as massive boulders are swiftly released up in the hillside to their right and swing on their ropes tied to the tree tops above them. Four stones in total, each twice the height of Scrooge, sweep along the path in front of them, swinging back and forth and threatening to push them over the edge.

           The experienced avian sends a glare behind him, hands on his knees as the sudden movement sent a wave of pain through his body. A pink flush blooms across the younger duck’s face as he gives a grin and a shrug accompanied by a small giggle in embarrassment.

Louie rolls his eyes, “Great! Now what?”

His older brother garbed in blue smiles at him, “Aw, come on! It’s not so bad! We’ve had worse death traps than this!” As if to prove his point, he runs ahead of the group towards the first swinging rock. Pausing to watch its movements, he waits until it just passes in front of him before running quickly to the next safe spot between the first and second boulders. He turns around to his family with a triumphant grin, “See? Not so hard!”

           The other three children and their elder move to follow him, leaving his uncle behind. Donald takes a few steps forward to where Scrooge stood but a moment before, watching his family wait for the rock to swing ahead of them. He holds his breath to keep himself from yelling out as his anxieties surface.

Now that he was focused enough to observe the awkward landscape before him, the layout makes sense as the death trap revealed itself. The boulders are supposed to crush any potential robbers and send them flying through the sudden break in the tree line down to their demises on the jungle floor, or at least that’s the idea. Donald can only picture tiny duck bodies soaring through that very air and meeting an unfortunate ending, but his family runs past the stone, and quickly joins Dewey on the other side. He releases the air in relief. This is why he doesn’t go on these trips, they are far too stressful for him now with the children along.

           As he attempts to calm his racing heart before his family goes to the next stone, a distinct snapping makes him whip his head up to the jungle hillside next him. It sounds as if young saplings are breaking. The sound catches his uncle’s attention as well, making him pause as the kids continue onward. Scrooge’s fingers grip tightly to the cane he leans on, the pain has come to an all-time high; something is definitely wrong. Donald’s eyes widen as his body is rapidly dwarfed in comparison to the fifth massive boulder hurdling down the hillside towards him. The overgrown jungle must have temporarily kept the stone at bay before crumbling under the weight.

           Time seems to slow down, and yet it all happens too quick for anyone to process. Instead of feeling the rough surface of the boulder making contact with his face, Donald feels two distinct hands push his limp body a good five feet away. The duck grunts as he bounces and slides across the rough surface before quickly turning his head back. He stares unblinkingly as a nauseating thud enters his ears, a body flying lifelessly through the air to his left and down to the hillside. Rocks slide along with the figure as it rolls along the rock face before falling down the drop-off into the trees, snapping branches and vines under its weight. Birds flee the scene up into the sky and other wildlife run to hide from the sudden noise before the form finally lands on the ground out of all their view.

           Then all is quiet. The branches shake back and forth, before stilling once again. The forgotten fifth stone swings unaffected, as if it didn’t happen. Donald makes eye contact with his family ahead who stare in equal horror back at him. It feels like hours pass as they process what had just happened, all staring back at each other as the once life filled jungle is dead silent. Finally, it seems to hit them all at once, as they stare in the direction the body flew before crying out in shock, “SCROOGE!”

~~~~~~~~~~

           Donald never remembers running so fast. After the kids made it safely past the swinging boulders, the five of them run down the hillside as quick as their legs can carry them. Huey’s shaking voice tries to determine if someone can survive such an ordeal. Louie’s sobbing, repeatedly screaming, “He’s dead, he’s dead!” Dewey remains silent as the scene replays in his head over and over, tears stinging at his eyes.

Webby is the only one who seems to keep it together as she makes the group stop on the path to catch their breath; they’re all hyperventilating. She grabs Louie by the shoulders and gives him a good shake, “Louie! He’s not dead! We’re gonna find him and we’re gonna get him home!” The boy sniffs in response but says no more.

Donald can see the girl trembling. He’s the adult, he’s supposed to be calming the children down and making a plan to help their uncle! But at the moment, he feels like he might vomit. The sound of Scrooge’s body crumpling under the weight of the boulder still stuck in his head. He no longer feels like an adult, he’s a scared child. He simply exists alongside the kids.

Webby forces Huey to stop his dead-end rambling and focus with a smack across the face. The red garbed boy seems a bit hurt by the action, but he pushes his feelings away for the time being, and determination enters his eyes. Together they track the trajectory to locate where their uncle’s body could have landed. Finally pinpointing the most probable location, the group runs once again. Leaving the path, they venture into the deep thicket. Dewey leads the group, moving branches and leaves nearly as big as him out of the way for his followers. He’s not sure what else he can do, he’s not as smart as his older brother and Webby. But he can at least clear a path for them. It’s a while before anyone says anything, the only sounds to be heard are the twigs breaking under their webbed feet, and the still quiet sniffs of the youngest triplet.

They spot something up ahead. Donald feels himself run faster, ahead of his fellow ducklings. There’s a small clearing where broken branches lay scattered across the ground. One limb, still attached but hanging, swings back and forth melodically. The sun shines through a small break in the trees from its missing appendages down to the forest floor. All Donald can see is red.

A broken and crumpled body lays entangled with vines and branches. The family pauses in shock, taking in the scene before them. Their uncle’s body is motionless, his clothes in shreds. His top hat and spectacles landed relatively close together a few yards away in the tall undergrowth; his cane a few yards on the other side of him, hooked on a low branch. His feathers, once as white as freshly fallen snow, now a dirtied mix between brown and red. So much red. Donald’s heart sinks.