#Ducktales 2020 secret santa

[transgnckon]

I forgot that I wanted to do a secret Santa thing but forgot to look for any events like that that might have been planned & now it’s already December 😑😑😑

[hunter-the-sad-skeleton]

my @ducktalessecretsanta2020​ for @neopuff/ @lettheladylead! They wanted something with Scrooge n Goldie. (Goldie centric, Louie could come too.) They would like writing or edits, decided to go with writing, as that’s mainly my specialty in the requested fields. They didn't want a big cast or anything and prefered a singular focus on Goldie, but Louie is there too, as I struggle to write single character focus stories(Apologies ;_;). They didn't want a specific holiday in their gift, so I just kept it ambiguous. Hope this is okay, bud, I’m none too experienced in writing stuff with romantic “themes”, so apologies if this is a little rough around the edges! This was a BUNCH of fun to do, so I’m hoping to come back next time this pops up!(Under the cut because it’s LONG)(Edit; special thanks to @analyticamethyst for telling me my secret santa and explaining a few things to me as this was my first secret santa I’ve ever done! You’re the best!)

Ah, the holidays...A time for family, a time for cheer! A time for hot cocoa and tales by the fire...A time for being generous and kind to one another, lest you end up on the naughty list.

“Goldie, I know you’re trying to find the code to me Money Bin.” Scrooge sighed.

Goldie shrugged, putting a book back on the shelf. “Actually, no, but ya can’t blame a gal for trying, Scroogie.” Goldie shrugged.

“Goldie, come on now! It’s the holidays! Don’t ye want a little peace and quiet? Just this once?” Scrooge asked, pinching his fingers together for emphasis.

Goldie shrugged, smirking. “I have the heart of an adventurer, Scroogie; my heart beats for adventure like a ping-pong ball on a drum in a bouncy castle.”

Scrooge facepalmed. “Curse me kilts, you’re incorrigible…” Scrooge grumbled.

“Ya know ya love me!” Goldie winked.

“Don’t I know it…” Scrooge sighed, smiling softly.

“So, Scrooge,” Goldie said, sitting down in a chair, sighing as she did so. “Any plans this holiday season?”

“Well, I’m probably going to spend more time with the family, what about you?” Scrooge asked.

“Well, if I ain’t adventuring, I may as well be teaching that nephew of yours, Louie, a few new tricks!” Goldie winked.

“You’re terrible..” Scrooge facepalmed.

“Hey, hey, hey! He needs help with a few business ventures and I’m willing to give him that!” Goldie smirked.

“Since when is pickpocketing a business venture?” Scrooge asked sarcastically.

“When you’re a part of the Mcduck family.” Goldie smirked. Scrooge sighed, chuckling and smiling softly.

“Curse me kilts, I swear I cannae stay mad at ye!” Scrooge chuckled gently.

“Don’t ya know it, Moneybags!” Goldie winked.

“Anyways,” Goldie shrugged, grabbing her coat and walking to the door. “I have something to go deal with.”

Before anything else could be said, she left, Louie following behind. “Wait up!” Louie called.

Goldie turned around, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t ya typically avoid adventure?”

“Yeah, but I wanna spend more time with you! Can I come?” Louie asked.

Goldie hummed thoughtfully. “Ya know what, sure!”

Louie grinned, following Goldie.

(In a shop elsewhere.)

Goldie walked out with all the supplies they would need for the adventure ahead.

“Ready, young duck?” Goldie asked.

“Born ready!” Louie nodded.

Goldie smiled at the excitement from the young adventurer, heading off to a cave.

“A c-c-c-cave…?” Louie gulped nervously.

“Yeah,” Goldie smirked. “What, scared?”

Louie gasped in shock, shaking his head. “No!” Louie pressed onward, earning a laugh from Goldie.

(In the cave)

Goldie walked through the cave, bouncing her flashlight off the rock formations inside, Louie staying close.

Goldie made sure Louie was still behind her, climbing over a large rock. “Grab on, Little Lou!” Goldie called.

Louie jumped up, Goldie grabbing his hand and pulling him over.

“What now?” Louie asked, sliding down the large rock to join Goldie.

Goldie shone her flashlight around the room, turning it off for a few seconds. Before Louie could ask anything, the room was lit up by the crystals in the room.

“Shimmer crystals; they catch any light and reflect it across the room. Nature’s flashlight!” Goldie winked.

Louie stood still, awestruck, while Goldie walked around the room, searching for...Something.

“What’d we come here for again?” Louie asked.

“A present for your Uncle Scrooge, a holiday gift, ya know?” Goldie called, sifting through a pile of rocks.

Louie made a silent ‘o’ before helping search.

“Anything in particular?” Louie called.

“A Shimmer Crystal geode that’s surrounded in gold! They’ve been spotted here a few times!” Goldie called back.

“A geode, got it…” Louie muttered to himself.

Louie shrieked as a loud crack sound echoed through the caves. “Sorry! Tried to find one by cracking a geode open!” Goldie called.

“Did ya?” Louie called breathlessly.

“...No!” Goldie called back. “Keep looking!”

Louie nodded, continuing the search.

“This is okay to do, right?” Louie called.

“This is a mine, Little Lou! This is what it’s made for!” Goldie called.

“Well...Okay!” Louie called back, continuing to search.

Goldie cracked another geode open, still nothing. Then another, then another, continuing before taking a break. “This is getting nowhere…!” Goldie groaned.

“I know, but I’m sure you can find one!” Louie encouraged.

“We’ve been through a lot of geodes, Lou, I’m not sure there’s any LEFT!” Goldie sighed dejectedly.

“I know it seems like that, but I’m SURE there’s at least ONE left!” Louie smiled softly.

Goldie sat back up, and with newfound determination, started going through Geodes once more.

“Any luck?” Louie called.

“Pyrite! Fool’s gold, but that must mean we’re getting close!” Goldie called.

Louie’s eyes brightened up. “That’s progress!” Louie smiled.

Goldie nodded, going through more geodes.

The Geodes started piling up, Goldie slowly getting closer and closer to finding the one she was searching for.

“FOUND IT!!” Goldie called happily. Louie jumped upright, almost falling over.

“Great! We can start heading back?” Louie asked.

“Yep! Just gotta wrap this baby up and-” Goldie said, wrapping it in protective layers so it wouldn’t shatter on the journey back to Mcduck manor in Duckburg.

Goldie stood up, starting towards the way they came, but stopping in her tracks as she heard a rumbling noise. “Uh oh.” Goldie peeped.

“What?” Louie asked, confused.

Goldie jumped back, pulling Louie with her as the way they came through caved in.

The two coughed as the dust settled from the cave-in, sitting upright and brushing off excess dust.

“You okay-*Kaff*-Little Lou?” Goldie coughed.

Louie nodded, coughing as well.

Goldie surveyed the area, looking for a way out.

“Up there!” Louie called, pointing up at an opening near the top of the cave.

“How can we get up there?!” Goldie frowned.

Louie hummed, tapping a finger to his beak in thought. “You can help me up, I can take a rock and your rope with me so I can make a way for you to get up!” Louie suggested.

Goldie thought it over, nodding in approval. “Okay, Little Lou, let’s do this!” Goldie smirked.

Goldie helped Louie up, Louie taking a rope and rock with him.

As Louie got up, he set the rock and rope up so that Goldie could safely climb up, holding it just in case.

Goldie climbed up, settling on the ground next to Louie.

“Now we just need to head home and give this to your Uncle.” Goldie said.

Louie nodded, the two getting up and heading out.

(At Mcduck manor)

Goldie and Louie exited the car, heading back inside after wrapping the Geode up as a gift.

“There you two are! Where have you been?! I’ve been worried sick!” Scrooge asked.

“We went out on an adventure, Scroogie.” Goldie smiled, handing him the box, earning a confused look from the scottish duck.

“What’s this abou-” Scrooge started.

“Happy holidays, Scroogie.” Goldie smirked, giving him a quick smooch on the cheek before heading off to go get some rest.

“Lad, what-” Scrooge started.

“Sorry man, can’t tell ya till tomorrow, it’s a holiday gift and I don’t wanna spoil the surprise.” Louie shrugged, smirking as he did so.

After Louie left the room, Scrooge looked the gift box over carefully.

“Hmm...I suppose waiting one day won’t hurt.” Scrooge shrugged, smiling softly.

[miyakoriee]

Ducktales Secret Santa present for meinezeichnungen_mydrawings on instagram! (I’m not sure what their tumblr tag is bc it wasnt written x’D but I hope, if u could see this you’ll like it!) HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

[wyrmiee]

Happy holidays, @lovetheinsane !! You were my @ducktalessecretsanta2020 buddy this year!

I really hope you like this piece- I took your suggestion of Scrooge enjoying the wintertime with his family and ran with it! I could imagine him besting them in a snowman-building competition, and before I knew it, I was drawing the whole thing out.

From initial brainstorming, to sketch, to lineart, to completion, the whole thing took me around 8 hours to finish. I took my fair share of breaks, though! I enjoyed every minute of it, and I hope you love how it turned out just as much as I do. You’re a wonderful creator and such a huge inspiration; I’m super lucky to be getting to share a handful of my own art with you.

Happy new year! Stay safe, socially distanced and as wonderfully entertaining as always,

- Nia

[sevensimian]

Salutations @theofficialkai517​!!! I’m your Secret Santa!!! I hope you love these lovebirds tangled in fairy  lights since you wanted these two! <3 ^.^ @ducktalessecretsanta2020​

[bruxbea]

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and even Happy New Year from the Mallard-McQuack-Waddlemeyer’s~ (Ahhhh cutting it so close, thank you for your patience!

[stoopakoopa]

So this year for @ducktalessecretsanta2020 I was hit with some amazing luck and was asked to produce something worthy of freakin’ @koizumi-marichan of all people. Tall order! Hope you like it pal!!

[ducktalessecretsanta2020]

Welcome to the Ducktales Secret Santa 2020! [CLOSED]

Hello everyone! The third annual Ducktales Secret Santa event is now up and running! We know it’s taken a little bit more time to get this started than usual - all the mods are really busy this year. That being said, we’re ready to do this and we’re very excited! Thank you so much for all of your interest and we’re all very excited to get this started!

If you want to participate, please fill out this quick form here. For the sake of time, the form will close in two weeks, on December 12. We’ll try to get your assignments out to you as soon as possible (we’ll do it on a rolling basis instead of a hard deadline). All gift assignments should be recieved by December 15 at the very latest. The soft deadline for turning in your gift is January 5. If you need an extension, please let us know. That’s perfectly okay. If you sign up and then need to drop out, that’s also okay, just please let us know so we can assign your giftee a new giver. If you’re willing to possibly do an extra gift, please let us know as well!

An extra thank you to everyone who sent in an ask about whether the secret santa would be happening this year. We really appreciate all of your interest, and we hope you’ll have fun this year if you choose to participate!

Once again, the mods would like to welcome everyone to the Ducktales Secret Santa 2020! We hope you’ll all have a lot of fun! Please don’t hesitate to send in an ask if you have any questions. Thank you again, and we hope to see your name on the form!

The Form

[mighty-ant]

Launchpad 2.0, Part One

Happy holidays and happy New Year @solemn-vow​, I was your Secret Santa for @ducktalessecretsanta2020!

                                                           ____

Part Two

Double-O-Duck never thought he would find himself back in a F.O.W.L. holding cell. 

Then again, he never thought he would be back at all. 

The cell is the same as the ones he and Dewey were trapped in so many months ago, cinder block walls and a protect-o glass shield, only this time he doesn’t have any rubber bands at his disposal or a convenient troupe of hyper-intelligent lab experiments to free him. Best case scenario, they somehow find a way to jerry rig the control panel from over fifteen feet away. Worst case, they wait for an Egghead to collect them and overwhelm the poor devil. 

Of course, that’s not the only thing that is markedly different this time around. 

“What happened to Launchpad?” 

Double-O-Duck sighs agitatedly, running a hand through his coiffed hair. “I’ve already explained. I am Launchpad.”

Darkwing Duck watches him from the opposite end of their shared cell, the distrust behind the eyes of his mask burning and unfamiliar. “Explain it to me again,” he demands. 

Double-O-Duck both is and is not Launchpad McQuack. In some respects, they’re one and the same. Their memories are a singular set, Dewford is his best friend, little brother and charge all rolled into one, and he’ll do anything to protect his family. What the Intelliray granted Double-O-Duck (aside from his existence) was perspective and a straightforward intelligence that three decades worth of crashes had otherwise nullified. 

Simply put, Double-O-Duck is an improved version of Launchpad McQuack, a version people can count on for something other than bumbling ineptitude and the occasional happy accident. 

However, his existence is fleeting. Double-O-Duck is created and destroyed amid chaos; a brief, brilliant supernova that could have changed everyone’s opinion of him for the better and allowed him to be an asset to his family. But Steelbeak’s a fool who doesn’t comprehend the magnitude of what he’s unleashing, and Double-O-Duck does what Launchpad always does best—throw himself headfirst into certain danger. 

It’s with a heavy heart that he makes peace with his necessary sacrifice for Dewey, for Duckburg, and puts himself in the path of a blast that scours away his newfound existence like flame to flash paper. Reduced to an observer, locked behind the eyes of the blind and deaf Launchpad McQuack who once held the knowledge and skills to protect his family and reveal the true face of F.O.W.L. Instead, he does neither. Instead, he lives his life as though nothing has changed. 

For half a year, Double-O-Duck lives a silent and solitary existence as he bears witness to the incessant blundering of the man he used to be. 

Unfocused while facing Jormungandr, despite the fate of the world hanging in the balance and Uncle Scrooge badly injured. Lost to delusion and fear on Halloween, tormenting children and monsters alike. Those crucial nights in St. Canard, Darkwing fitting perfectly in the circle of his arms and Gosalyn looking to him for answers and reassurance as a crimson portal crackled and sparked, all too similar to the blinding light that locked Double-O-Duck away. 

Falling in love with Drake Mallard was as easy falling on him in a dead faint.

 His sheer reserve of strength and steely-eyed determination, the refusal to fail, to give up and stay down, practically take Launchpad’s breath away. He’s humble in the face of his ego, hesitant to don the cape and cowl of their mutual hero until Launchpad encourages him. Launchpad knows that Drake can become something beyond the Darkwing Duck they grew up with, if he just put his mind to it.

Of course, Launchpad doesn’t have the words for this. He could never properly describe the way DW entrances him when he gesticulates, his hands fluid and alive in the air, or how he’s distracted by the breadth of Drake’s shoulders. He can’t put to words the unworthiness that burns through him whenever Drake looks up at him with trust, gratitude, and dare he say it, love, as though Launchpad isn’t the one lucky enough to be caught in his orbit. 

Instead, Launchpad’s clumsiness paves the way. Clumsy bearhugs, clumsy advice, a clumsy confession in the gloom of early morning. Even Drake’s smile, brilliant and blinding in the dark, and Drake’s hands cradling his face, carding through his hair, do little to temper the certainty that Launchpad and Double-O-Duck share, because at the end of the day they are one and the same—he’s still not good enough. 

Rediscovering the F.O.W.L. base beneath Funzo’s is practically a fluke. 

Launchpad hasn’t been here since he played that video game with Dewey, though the events of that day remain hazy and uncertain in his mind, almost dreamlike. Fittingly, that same night is the first occurrence of the Dream. Though perhaps nightmare would be a more apt descriptor.

 It’s the same every time, on and off for the last six months: a beam of red light so blinding he thinks the back of his eyelids will never be rid of the stain and the sensation of a fall, perilous and plummeting, that jolts him to consciousness in a cold sweat. His memory of the nightmare fades until the next night it tears him from sleep. 

He can’t say what brings him to ask Drake to stop the Ratcatcher, can’t explain why the darkened silhouette of a children’s arcade brings him so much dread. They’ve just dropped Gosalyn off the mansion for a sleepover and are meant to be well on their way back to St. Canard for patrol. But even if he wanted to, Launchpad can’t stop himself from gripping Drake’s arm and saying, “Let me check something out, DW.”

Drake humors him; whether because he actually trusts his judgement or because he just wants to try out his new set of lock picks is debatable, but in the back of his mind Launchpad is grateful. The bulk of his focus is devoted to the déjà vu that increasingly overwhelms him as they slip in through the side door. 

The feathers on the back of his neck stand on end as they cross the sticky floor, their footsteps almost soundless in the otherwise empty, expansive building. Aside from Drake’s flashlight, their only source of illumination are the screens of the arcade games a ways off, flickering noiselessly. But Launchpad can’t fight the sensation of being watched that grows in intensity when he makes a beeline for the ballpit. 

“Launchpad?” Drake whispers behind him, as confused as Launchpad has ever heard him. But he has no words to explain the compulsion that’s driving him so he doesn’t try to conjure any. Instead, he climbs into the ballpit. 

He immediately sinks up to his waist, the balls rustling hollowly around him. Launchpad doesn’t hesitate before wading forward, prodding at the uneven foam flooring with the toe of his boots. He still isn’t sure what he’s searching for when he hears Drake climb in after him. 

“Okay,” he says to Launchpad’s back in a tone that demands an answer. “What’s going on here, sweetheart?”

The pet name kindles a new and welcome affection beneath his sternum, stoking the fire that has been burning and steadily building for months. Whereas Launchpad often speaks without thinking, Drake hyper analyzes every syllable before it leaves his mouth. While it can result in his anxiety taking over and making him second guess himself, other times, most times, it gives every stutter and hesitation greater meaning because he chooses his words so carefully. Launchpad knows how much thought is put into every ‘sweetheart’ Drake utters. 

Before he can figure out a response that makes even the barest lick of sense, the secret entrance Launchpad belatedly realizes he was searching for slides open beneath their feet. Both of them fall through with a yelp, and a rainbow cascade of plastic follows them down. 

“LP,” Drake hisses, minutes later as they peer around a corner into a gray stoned hallway nearly identical to all the ones they’ve passed. “How did you know there was a secret base down here?” 

The déjà vu buzzing in Launchpad’s ears has worsened, adding to the sense of unreality that’s plagued him all night. It’s as though he’s dreaming while at the same time never feeling more awake. All Launchpad knows for certain is that he’s been here before, but he can’t remember how or why he’s so certain. 

“I, uh, I don’t know,” he says truthfully, and wishes he had the answers Drake needs. 

They creep down the hall, peering through the windows of the few doors they cross and find unlit laboratories and storage rooms on the other side. Launchpad is grateful they’re taking a stealthier approach, though he isn’t certain why he feels that way. Not until they hear the crackle of a radio from around the next corner and the pound of marching footsteps.

“Squadron 87, report to Sector C. We have reports of an unauthorized P.I.T. entry.”

Launchpad freezes at the same time Drake swings into action. He grabs Launchpad by the front of his coat and pushes the nearest door open with his other hand. Drake dives through the opening, dragging Launchpad with him.

Launchpad has the presence of mind to close the door behind them, as quietly as he’s able, and both he and Drake press up against it to catch a glimpse of whoever’s coming around the corner. Their caution is rewarded as a squad of Eggheads file past the window, all of them armed, their faces uniformly blank. Drake is practically vibrating beside him. 

“A secret F.O.W.L. base,” he whispers as loudly as he dares. “We’ve uncovered a secret F.O.W.L. base underneath Funzo’s. LP, do you have any idea what this means?” 

“Uh, no more two for one pizzas?” Launchpad answers uncertainly. 

“It means,” Drake gushes, clutching Launchpad’s shoulders and shaking him a little, a manic grin lighting up his face, “you and I are going to be goshdarn heroes.” 

Drake doesn’t swear often, and the pointed non-expletives he’s taken to using because of Gosalyn usually get a long laugh out of Launchpad. But the sickening sense of familiarity continues to weigh him down, and he’s barely able to let out a chuckle. 

Luckily, Drake doesn’t notice as he spins away to examine the room they’re hiding in. it’s presumably some sort of storage space, and there are shelves lined with everything from bizarre weapons to spare Egghead helmets. Launchpad follows him without thought, scanning the room as Drake fiddles with his burner phone, muttering about the lack of signal. 

“If I can get ahold of McDuck or Fenton or, eugh, Gizmoduck….”

Drake’s voice fades away as something draws Launchpad to one weapon in particular. 

It’s a gun unlike any he’s ever seen, even with all the adventures under his belt. It’s sleek and geometric, like a ray gun out of a cartoon. There’s a crystal of some kind embedded where the barrel should be, but something tells him that this isn’t the sort of gun that fires bullets. 

The déjà vu that’s been sending his senses into overload finally and abruptly quiets as he picks up the weapon. He should put it down, walk away, because nothing good ever comes out of a F.O.W.L. invention. But a whisper in the back of his mind tells him he should be happy to hold it. That same voice tells him to look at its buttstock, where a dial is pointed to a negative sign. He turns the dial the opposite way, toward the positive sign, and the weapon comes to life, humming in his hands. 

It feels like he’s doing the right thing when he turns it on himself and pulls the trigger. Blue light floods his vision before darkness overtakes it. 

An unknowable amount of time later, he wakes up on the cold concrete floor, looking up at Darkwing’s panic stricken face. 

“Launchpad,” he breathes, relief making his features slacken, but Double-O-Duck barely hears him.

 Memory rushes to the forefront of his mind with almost overwhelming speed, deafening him to all else as he finally recalls his and Steelbeak’s first confrontation, the accidental discovery F.O.W.L., the satellitehouse, his fall. All at once, he’s aware of the half-year he spent trapped, silenced, practically useless to his family against the forces lurking in the dark. That his patchwork memories were enough to spur his return is nothing short of miraculous. 

“Launchpad,” Darkwing says again, when his silence grows too long. Concern has his voice wavering, and his small, strong hands smooth over Double-O-Duck’s chest in an unnecessary, if pleasant, search for an injury that isn’t there. “Are you alright? What happened?” 

Double-O-Duck sits up gingerly. Unfortunately, his collapse apparently garnered him a nasty bump on the back on the head.

 “I’m fine,” he responds, tamping down the accent that naturally arises. No sense in worrying Drake any more than he already has. “But I’m...not sure what that was.” The sting of guilt over his lie is assuaged by the elation he struggles not to let show on his face. Finally, he can be the partner Darkwing deserves, a man worthy of Scrooge’s trust, a proper guardian for Gosalyn. 

He pushes himself back to his feet, and though his movements are smooth, Darkwing hovers over him in a way that makes him smile and feel terribly cared for. When he shows no sign of keeling over, Darkwing briefly stoops to recover the intelligence enhancement ray that Double-O-Duck dropped. 

“Well, I guess it must be some sort of stun gun,” Darkwing says slowly, examining the gun with a wary eye, as though it might fire again at the slightest provocation. Double-O-Duck is abruptly struck with the mad desire to take the ray from Darkwing’s hands and smash it on the ground. It would all but guarantee that he’d never be locked away again and reduced to his old foolish, bumbling self. 

Before he can act on this impulse, they hear voices coming from the other side of the door once again. Darkwing sets the ray down with exaggerated care on the nearest shelf and hurries over to peer through the window. 

“Another patrol,” he says grimly. “We’ve been here too long. We have to let the others know what we’ve found, but I can’t call anyone until we’re topside; something’s blocking the signal.”

“Lead the way,” Double-O-Duck replies. 

Darkwing fixes him with a worried look. The stern vigilante mask that’s started coming so much more naturally to him slips in favor of his true feelings. “Are you sure you’re alright?” he insists. 

Alright? It’s too small a word to describe the depth of his relief and eagerness to leap back into the fray. With his intelligence and skill returned to him, he’s more alright than ever. Confident in a way he hasn’t felt in half a year, he takes Darkwing’s hand and raises it to his beak so he might drop a kiss on his knuckles. 

“Don’t worry about me,” he says, delighting in the startled blush staining Darkwing’s cheeks. He watches Darkwing make a few attempts to swallow, feeling terribly pleased. 

“Okay then,” he answers weakly, before immediately clearing his throat. “Let’s uh, let’s get dangerous.” 

Checking again that the coast is clear, Darkwing opens the door to the supply closet. They slip out into a quiet, gray hallway, heading back the way they came. Double-O-Duck knows they’re walking blind, and his ineffectualness grates at him. But there’s nothing for it; he hasn’t been here in half a year and his enhanced memory might be good, but it isn’t good enough to recall each twist and turn he made in this labyrinthine base. 

The stomp of footsteps around the upcoming corner has them faltering in their tracks. There’s no convenient closet at hand, the nearby walls blank and utilitarian. Unease has Double-O-Duck’s heart rabbiting at the base of his throat, but he ignores it as he grabs hold of Darkwing’s arm, tugging him in the opposite direction of the approaching patrol. A confrontation may be inevitable at this rate, but the longer they go undiscovered the better. 

Darkwing follows him without question, which is heartening, but ultimately for naught. 

Around the next corner, they find no less than a dozen Eggheads waiting for them, each of them armed with blasters. The technology is familiar to him, almost Moonlander in origin. Reverse-engineered copies, perhaps. 

“Well, well, well! It looks to me like we’ve got a couple of trespassers.”

And just their luck, the Eggheads aren’t alone. 

Agent Steelbeak is exactly as Double-O-Duck remembers him: impeccably dressed, his cruel beak curled into a shining smirk. He carries no weapon on his person, or at least none that are visible; there’s no need, when his bite alone is enough to draw blood. And just like before, his arrogance falters in the face of the unexpected. 

“What—you again?” Steelbeak squawks. 

Darkwing darts forward, dropping into a fighting stance. His proud voice fills the hallway. “Thought you’d seen the last of Darkwing Duck, eh, metal mouth?”  

Steelbeak blinks hard, rearing back as if startled by Darkwing’s presence. “Huh? Aren’t you the twerp I beat up for that circuit thingy?” 

Darkwing’s shoulders droop in dismay, only to rise again with his mounting confusion. He follows Steelbeak’s line of sight, turning to look at Double-O-Duck over his shoulder, eyes alight with realization if not understanding. 

While he takes the insult nearly as personally as Darkwing surely does, a small part of Double-O-Duck is thrilled at being recognized, if only to properly demonstrate his reclaimed prowess to his partner. After all, up until fifteen minutes ago, as far as either of them knew Darkwing was the only one to have faced Steelbeak before. 

 “LP?” he says quietly, uncertain and seeking answers. Double-O-Duck is heartened by his ability to finally provide them. 

But this isn’t the time, so for now he just reaches out and briefly clasps Darkwing’s shoulder in reassurance. “It’s been a while, Steelbeak,” Double-O-Duck says loudly, letting more of his accent bleed into his words. “Not that I picture this meeting going any differently than our first.”

Steelbeak sputters indignantly as the Eggheads around him murmur amongst themselves. “It is you!” he accuses, yellow eyes narrowing. “You smug sonova...Wait...how is it you? Last time you got hit with…” Steelbeak cuts himself off with a long, nasal laugh. “Oh, you gotta be kiddin’ me! Did you bust in here just to get smart again?”

“Launchpad,” Darkwing hisses out of the corner of his mouth, more insistent than before. “What is he talking about?”

Double-O-Duck smoothes his long bangs back into the coiffed hairstyle he hadn’t realized he’d missed. “I promise I’ll explain everything once Steelbeak is dealt with,” he begins to say, when the F.O.W.L. agent in question yawns theatrically. 

“Bo-ring!” he says in singsong. “You two can continue this snoozefest with Director Buzzard. Eggheads, scramble ‘em!” 

The Eggheads need no further prompting as all dozen of them launch forward with blasters at the ready. Like a thrown switch, Double-O-Duck blocks out all distractions save for the threat headed his way. The focus that the intelligence enchantment ray grants him is greatly appreciated as he fells the first two Eggheads to approach him with swift blows to the head and flips a third over his shoulder. 

While he’s not one to ever gun for a fight, Double-O-Duck would be lying if he said he hasn’t looked forward to partnering with Darkwing now that they’re more evenly matched in skill. He’s no slouch without the ray’s enhancement, and Darkwing hasn’t voiced any complaints when they spar, but he’s undeniably better this way. A better fighter, a better partner, nevermind Dewey’s long-ago promises that he was enough just as he was. Enough to be a child’s best friend, perhaps, but nothing more. 

Now spared even the possibility of a bumbling mistake, he leaps eagerly into the fray. 

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Darkwing surrounded by a trio of Eggheads, and immediately moves to rectify that. Knocking the blaster out of the hand of the next Egghead that rushes at him, he grabs them by the arm and swings them at the group Darkwing is fighting. Double-O-Duck doesn’t bother with a shout of warning, not for a move they’ve executed half a hundred times before. 

But Darkwing isn’t where Double-O-Duck expects him to be. 

He somehow moved without Double-O-Duck’s notice, the three Eggheads he was facing off against lying in a pile at his feet. Now he’s standing directly in the path of the careening Egghead Double-O-Duck just launched his way, and they collide forcefully. 

He watches with no small amount of horror as Darkwing collapses under the weight of the thrown body. His hat goes flying as he knocks his head against the floor, and while Darkwing looks dazed it doesn’t prevent him from knocking out the Egghead with a swift jab of his elbow. “What gives, LP?” he barks, clutching the side of his head. 

“I-I didn’t see you there, Darkwing,” Double-O-Duck blurts, neatly sidestepping the Egghead running at him with a war cry. While Darkwing might not be badly hurt by his own stubborn standards, the slipup rattles Double-O-Duck in a way he never thought possible. 

Though he shows no outward sign of it as he trips up another Egghead and slams them into the wall, his mind spins like a globe off its axis. They’ve never made a mistake like that before. He’s never made a mistake like that. Even during their brief tussle in Darkwing’s trailer a year ago they were in sync, aware of each other’s movements and reacting accordingly. Double-O-Duck shouldn’t be making mistakes that not even regular old Launchpad would. 

There’s a moment of pause once Darkwing punches one of the remaining Eggheads in the solar plexus and drives their face into his knee, shattering their visor. Double-O-Duck starts to go to him, guilt tightening a stony fist in the pit of his stomach when he sees the blossoming bruise at the edge of Darkwing’s temple. 

“Darkwing, I’m sorry,” he starts to say. “Are you alright?”

Movement in the corner of his eye, and Double-O-Duck’s instincts are all that spare him from the broad yellow fist plowing through the air scant inches from his face. He bends over backward, nearly tripping over an unconscious Egghead to avoid what would have been a crippling blow. 

  “Trouble in paradise?” Steelbeak chortles, unperturbed by his near-miss. His eyes are alight with a sickening combination of malice and glee, fists tightly coiled and shoulders hanging loose. Double-O-Duck hasn’t forgotten the power behind those fists, Steelbeak’s casual, confident violence that allowed him to be ceaseless in his assault. Double-O-Duck was able to best him last time by getting into his head, but he doesn’t have that luxury when his own thoughts drag him down the sinkhole in his mind. 

“Don’t worry, we’ve got a cozy, quiet cell for you two to talk things out,” Steelbeak continues leisurely. 

Double-O-Duck lunges at him, coming in low at the last second to take him out at the knee. Experience tells him that aiming for Steelbeak’s face straight away will turn out worse for him than Steelbeak. 

Still, he fails. 

Steelbeak steps out of his reach and comes back in close to deliver a kick to the underside of Double-O-Duck’s chin. He goes sprawling onto his back, immediately diving out of the way when Steelbeak jabs at him with his jagged beak. It’s a move most birds wouldn’t attempt in a fight out of fear of chipping, or worse, cracking their beak. Having seen Steelbeak once splinter stone, Double-O-Duck knows he has no such compunctions. 

“You’re off your game, smarty-pants,” Steelbeak taunts as Double-O-Duck rolls back onto his feet and blocks his punches. “Maybe Heron’s Intelliray isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

Double-O-Duck glowers, ducking back to avoid a hammerfist punch. His control is fraying, and he speaks without thinking. “It’s enough to stop you,” he snaps, a quick jab making Steelbeak clutch at his ribs with a grunt. When he lifts his head, he glances over Double-O-Duck’s shoulder and his grimace morphs into a smile. 

“What about your little friend?”

Turning around would be a mistake. A stupid, rookie mistake that Launchpad would make, not Double-O-Duck. But what if, his traitorous mind hisses, tying up in knots. What if it’s not a trick. When it comes to Drake Mallard, Launchpad McQuack will always be a fool. 

So Double-O-Duck turns and sees Darkwing dangling limp in the grip of two Eggheads. His head hangs forward in unconsciousness and his eyes are closed and his hat’s still missing and Double-O-Duck’s stomach freezes in painful piercing cold before dropping past his feet altogether. 

“I think it’s about time you joined him,” he distantly hears Steelbeak say, before there’s a pain in the side of his head and the floor is rushing up to meet him. 

[dalia1784-art]

Don't you kinda love December

when the merry snowbells chime

we're together once upon a winterime

every single snowflake falling

plays a jingle down your spine

lovely weather once upon a wintertime

Inspired by Once Upon A Wintertime from Melody Time (1948)

This was made for @kaderp in participation for @ducktalessecretsanta2020, they wanted Donald and Daisy and man did I run with it. You bet I’ll be returning for 2021.

[goldiejake11]

source:  goldiejake11

Happy Hanukkah @angelaorosco!!  I am your Secret Santa!!

Can I just say as a total goy how much I really enjoyed this request?  I loved absorbing all the beautiful stories and traditions surrounding Hanukkah and I now have a much greater appreciation for this holiday.  

When I got to the bit about the dreidel game and playing for gelt this picture was just BEGGING to be made, lol.  Short of Scroogeopoly is there seriously a more perfect game for these two? 🤣

Anyway, happy Hanukkah and I hope you like it as much as I liked drawing it. 

[mai-fanblog]

Merry Christmas late and happy new year

This is my part of #secretsantaducktales2020 and this drawing is for @zukoromantic

I hope you like it. Take care and have a good time this year.

@ducktalessecretsanta2020

[champopular]

For the @ducktalessecretsanta2020 this year I had the love Marie, or @burntersi on Instagram! This is her OC Ellie on a star gazing date with Mark, as she loves the night sky! (The second is just a bonus gift, because I liked how the sketch ended up.) Happy Holidays!! I hope you have a safe, and wonderful 2021 ❤️

[cinnamon-bunni]

Alrightie! Here is my contribution for @ducktalessecretsanta2020! My secret santa partner was @iminwaytoomanyfandoms! I hope you really enjoy this fic! :))

Fethry watched the gentle falling snow outside of the window, a giant smile on his face. The darkness made it hard to see, but the snow was still clear in the moonlight. He tugged at the ends of his sweater’s sleeves out of excitement. “Do you think there will be enough snow to go out and play tomorrow morning with the lil’ Dons and lil’ Dell?” he asked excitedly.

“There better be,” Della answered, walking over to look out the window herself. “If we’re gonna make an awesome fortress and have an amazing snowball fight, we’re gonna need all the snow we can get. Hopefully it starts snowing harder.”

Donald, who was going through boxes of old tree ornaments, shot up. “Snowing?” he asked, and ran over to the window. “I left all the outside furniture out on the deck!” Quickly rushing out to his houseboat, to make sure nothing got snow on it and got too wet, Gladstone gave a laugh, and a small sip at his eggnog.

“These sweaters you made are wonderful, Feathers!” he complimented. “I mean, I got so many free, luxurious, and comfortable sweaters all the time, but these are somehow even better!”

“It’s because they’re made with help from Mitzi!” he said. Gladstone gave a smile to his cousin, who went back to watching the snowfall. Gladstone rubbed against his sweater’s sleeve, the soft fabric nice against his feathers. The one that Fethry had made for him was a dark green, with white snowflakes going across the middle of his chest. Above and bottom of said snowflakes were designs of four leaf clovers, a bright, lime green color with them. His cousins’ sweaters were similar to his--Fethry’s was a bright red with snowflakes, but with pink krills as a pattern. Della’s was a bright blue with snowflakes, with planes for a pattern, with Donald’s being a darker blue, with boats instead.

After watching Donald struggling with the forming ice outside, who just kept slipping and falling, Fethry and Della soon left the window, and went to the boxes of ornaments that Donald abandoned. They started to shuffle through it, looking through all of the old ornaments.

“Can’t believe Uncle Scrooge still has these,” Della commented. “I mean, look at this one! I remember hanging this one when me and Don were like, twelve!” Fethry peered into the box, and gave a small gasp when he noticed a familiar one.

“That was the one we bought during my first Christmas at this manor! I remember it just like yesterday,” he said, a smile on his face. He turned over to Gladstone and Della. “Could we decorate the tree? It’s been forever since I’ve decorated one!”

“Yeah, we should decorate one!” Gladstone said.

“I don’t know, the kids really enjoy doing it. I don’t think they’ll be happy if we did it without them while they’re out with Uncle Scrooge,” Della said.

“Aw, c’mon, Dells! How long has it been since we decorated a tree together, all four of us?” Gladstone said.

“Yeah, and besides, I’m pretty sure if Gladdie went somewhere to buy a Christmas tree, he’ll probably get a big one for free! The kids could decorate that one-we’ll have two trees!” Fethry added, Gladstone nodding to this. Della gave a smile.

“Yeah, you’re right! Let’s decorate this thing!”

“Wait, what are we doing?” Donald said, walking back into the room, holding his head in pain from all the times he fell from walking on the ice.

“We’re decorating the tree!” Fethry said, heading over to the other boxes, excitedly going through all the different ornaments.

“But the kids--”

“We already discussed that, Donnie,” Gladstone said, and took a sip of his eggnog. “It’ll be fine.” Donald gave a few grumbles to himself, but said nothing else. Instead, he went over to his family and to where the ornaments were, and started to go through them with Fethry, Della, and Gladstone.

The four sorted out all of the ornaments and tree decorations. They discussed what they should or shouldn’t put on (“The Woodchuck guidebook says--”  “Sorry Feathers, but I’m not listening to some guidebook that’s telling me how to decorate a tree.”). Tinsel, lights, tree ornaments--all of it. While Donald got tangled in all of the lights--Della tried to help untangle him, but it was hard with how hard she was laughing--Fethry and Gladstone sorted through all the tinsel and ornaments. 

When Donald and Della finally settled on which color lights they should use to decorate the tree (they went with the alternating pink, red, blue, green, and white lights), and when they finally were able to set up said lights without any trouble, Gladstone and Fethry took time to then add the tinsel to the tree, which went better than the twins putting up the lights, since they weren’t fighting and getting tangled in it every three minutes.

Putting up the ornaments was probably the best part for all of them. It was a nice bonding moment for them; all of them talking, having fun, messing around with all of the ornaments and reliving all of the memories they held. The times when they all enjoyed themselves as kids, decorating the tree with Scrooge. Times when they were little ducklings, so happy with just being together like a family and they were so happy to spend time with each other.

When was the last time they were like this? When was the last time they were all happy like this, all under one roof, sharing laughs, with everything perfectly fine? Enjoy themselves without a care in the world, and just being happy as a family without any problems--it had been too long. It’s been too long since they were able to just enjoy themselves.

“Well, what do you guys think?” Della asked, taking a few steps back to look at the full Christmas tree. Gladstone studied the tree with a hum.

“I think it looks great, Dells,” he answered. Donald gave a nod in response.

“It looks amazing! Oh, it’s been so long since we did this,” Fethry said. 

Donald gave a small hum, checking the time. “The kids will be home any minute now.”

“Ah, so chaos will soon come, then,” Gladstone joked. “I say we relax for the rest of the night!”

“I can’t; I have last minute wrapping to do,” Donald said.

“Aw, please Donnie?” Fethry begged. “We haven’t had time to be together like this in so long!”

“Yeah, we got Dells to drop the whole Santa Claus thing for the entire night!” Gladstone chimed in. “Besides, you, out of everyone I know, deserve having a break the most.”

“I don’t know…”

“Please? Please Don?” Fethry, Gladstone, and Della all watched him, expecting to say something. He gave a sigh.

“Alright, alright, fine. I suppose taking a break for the rest of the night wouldn’t hurt.”

“Good choice, D,” Della said, giving a smile. “C’mon, how about we go get some hot chocolate, huh?”

“Sounds good to me,” Gladstone said.

“Awesome! C’mon Feathers, let’s go make some,” she said, running off to the kitchen, which Fethry excitedly followed. Donald gave a sigh, with a shake of his head, but still gave a small smile. He followed them to make sure that they didn’t set the kitchen on fire (but knowing him and his bad luck, he would be the one starting the fire). It was just like what they used to do, like when they were kids.

Just like old times.

[my-intrests-are-yours]

Confessions After A Coffee Date

Hey @fan-art-ic, I participated in the @ducktalessecretsanta2020 event and got you! I wrote a Drakepad winter date just for you, I hope you like it. 

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays. We made it through the year and I’m happy to give you this gift. 

Drake hated the winter season. It makes crime-fighting all a bit harder and makes not crime-fighting even worse. Drake hates the cold and if this was any other day he’d be hiding under his blankets seething at every degree drop. 

On any normal day, Drake would be, what Gosalyn likes to call, a hermit, but it isn’t any other day. 

Launchpad is spending the holidays with us and he wanted to meet up at a quaint little coffee shop downtown. Drake knows Launchpad has a family, two, in fact, so he’s quite confused why he’s not with any of them. Not that he minds, of course, Drake is always grateful for anytime the pilot could spare for the two of them. 

He tries not to think too hard about why that is. 

A gust of winter wind sent a shiver down Drake’s spine. People are hustling and bustling on the sidewalk beside him. Cars are honking and everywhere he could hear ten different Christmas songs blasting. 

Drake’s not a miser but he never really got the hype around the holidays. That was until Gosalyn came into his life. Losing her Grandpa this year had dampened her holiday spirit a bit. It wasn’t until Launchpad came stumbling through the Lair entrance with an armful of gifts and holiday decorations that her mood brightened just a little. 

Drake is amazed at that man. Never as he met someone so wonderful as Launchpad. 

“Drake, Drake, I’m here.” 

The unmistakable voice of his favorite pilot shakes Drake away from his thoughts. 

“Hey, LP,” Drake greeted his buddy. Launchpad stopped for a minute, giving the superhero an odd look. His cheeks are slightly flushed. It must’ve been the weather. 

Launchpad sat down right next to Drake. The pilot’s knee gently brushing on his. The superhero thinks he might’ve caught a virus or something because it got suddenly hotter. 

The pilot calls over the waitress and they put in their orders. Launchpad ordered a cheeseburger with fries and Drake ordered the same. The masked marauder was too busy looking at his friend to even realize what he said. 

Launchpad is not wearing his usual get-up, the mallard notices. He doesn’t have his hat on for once. Has his hair always been that smooth? He’s still wearing his iconic bomber jacket, but he’s wearing a blue sweater beneath it. A purple scarf wraps around his neck. Drake’s not sure why but something about that scarf just fits him perfectly. 

Once the food arrived they started up a conversation. 

“Sorry about the wait. I know you don’t like the cold.” Launchpad apologizes. “I had to go back to Duckburg for something.”

“Don’t worry about it LP.” It warms Drake’s heart that someone knows him this well enough. “I got here pretty early. Gosalyn practically threw me out of the house this morning.” 

“That right?” The pilot was smiling. He’s always smiling when they talk about Gosalyn. Shoot, Drake is smiling too. The little thief had really squirmed herself into their hearts. 

“Yeah, she was all fired up about our lunch.” 

Drake and Launchpad continued for a couple of hours. The food was already gone but the two of them still kept talking. About work, adventures, Gosalyn, and of course Darkwing. It was easy. It was nice. Drake and Launchpad practically see each other every day, but they never seem to run out of conversation. 

Before the two of them knew it, three hours had already passed and the two of them had to get home. Drake had promised Gosalyn he would cook a nice dinner for them.

After paying Drake and Launchpad started making their way back to the lair. He doesn’t really know why, Drake hates the cold, but he insisted that he and Launchpad walk back to the lair. 

“You know,” Launchpad starts drawing Drake’s attention, “I really like talking to you, DW.” 

Drake blushes. 

“I talk a lot with a lot of people. The conversation’s pretty easy for me, but when it's us talking it's way easier than anything I’ve ever done before. The last date I went on was incredibly awkward. We’re friends now, but something just didn’t click.” 

Drake’s whole face is already red. If it was possible it would be redder. Date!? Was this a date? Oh my gosh, this was a date? What am I wearing?! If this was a date I should’ve worn date clothes. Launchpad deserves Date clothes. 

“It’s not like that with you though. We get started talking and we just keep talking. I've been feeling things since Gosalyn came into our lives. And every day I’m out there with you, fighting crime, living the dream, those feelings just grow more and more. When we had lunch, it just confirmed what I already knew.” 

Lunch. He let Launchpad pay for Lunch. He should’ve paid for lunch. Launchpad comes here in the cold dressed up all nice. Takes him out on a wonderful date and he couldn’t have even bothered to pay for lunch!

“Drake,” Launchpad calls out, “I can hear you thinking.” 

Having his name called out like that stops the mounting panic attack in Drake. Launchpad is looking at him so deeply. His smile is kinda happy and slightly scared like Drake could ever hurt him. It melts the Mallard’s heart. 

Drake takes the initiative for once this whole “date” and takes the pilot’s hands on his own.

“LP, I’ve never met anyone as wonderful, as amazing, as kind as you. The day you came into my life was the day everything seemed to turn up brighter. These past few weeks have been amazing and when you came into our home carrying gifts and talking about spending the holidays with us instead of your other families it made me so happy for reasons I didn’t even realize. But… this whole day has been amazing. Lunch has been amazing. Some detective I am because I didn’t even realize how obvious my feelings were.”

Drake is crying a bit, Launchpad is too. He takes a breath. 

“I love you” 

Launchpad couldn’t take it anymore, he was full-on sobbing. He brings Drake into a tight hug. They are gripping each other so tight. It took a while before the pilot could properly form a word. 

With Drake in his arms, he whispers something to his partner’s ear. “I love you, too.” And goes in for a kiss. They don’t know how long they’ve stood there, a few minutes, felt like hours. But once the tears subsided, the two of them walked hand in hand to cook dinner for their ward.

Drake still hates the cold. Never was a fan and never will be a fan. But when Launchpad is on left and Gosalyn saddled up right beside him, the winter chill stands no chance to the warmth his family provides him. 

[lovetheinsane]

A bit late but here is my @ducktalessecretsanta2020 gift for @fearfulmagpie :D

Decided to draw, based on their suggestions, Scrooge and Webby bundled up in blankets, next to a fire place, just having a cozy holiday night. I had not drawn such a detailed background or used color pencils in a while so it was a lot of fun to get to do it again. Hope you like it :)