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maelstrom-of-emotions · 1 year ago

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Watch as I make this unnecessarily dramatic, this wasn't even supposed to happen, but the idea ran away from me, and so here we are, but don't worry, Louie will get the hugs and cuddles he deserves...eventually. I'd suggest you read Part One and Part Two before this, otherwise, it probably won't make sense. ⁂

The day felt unusually long, a rarity, especially when Scrooge McDuck was in the picture. The only times time ever seemed to stretch were during close brushes with death, pulled out like taffy.

Dewey wasn't a fan of that conclusion.

He couldn't wait for nightfall, couldn't wait to unearth the problem, couldn't wait to annihilate whoever had hurt Louie. He just wanted to set everything right, make it all go back to normal.

Dewey attempted to keep his touches nonchalant. There was no need for Louie to suspect anything amiss, although that would've been fine since Dewey was generally a fan of physical contact. But he'd messed up a bit, nearly knocking Webby down in his haste to sit next to Louie—a less than stellar moment.

On a regular day, Louie might've narrowed his eyes and shot him a suspicious look, but today, just like the past few days, it was as if his brother hadn't even registered what had happened, simply staring blankly at the TV.

The ache in his chest intensified. Louie was supposed to play the nonchalant and careless card, not actually embody it. It took everything in Dewey not to shake the answers out of Louie, everything in him to snap at his older brother. Who cared about plans? Louie was hurt, had been hurt for a while now, and Dewey didn't know where to put the band-aid because he didn't know where the wound was or who had cut it.

Huey seemed to read Dewey's mind because when Dewey got up to grab snacks, Huey followed him, giving him "the look." The one he'd borrowed from Uncle Donald, the one that said, 'I know what you're thinking, and no, you can't do it'—but Dewey had never been great at following scripts, especially in situations like these.

"He's hurting," Dewey declared through gritted teeth. It felt like Huey had momentarily forgotten the gravity of the situation. This wasn't some Mark Beaks internship or a hunt for a far-off treasure. This was their brother, the one they'd sworn to protect. The brother who'd composed a national anthem for him, schemed to get him his favorite set of playing cards, listened when needed, and stood by him as a best friend.

"I know," Huey replied, sounding exasperated, as if he were tired, tired of the world, tired of the situation, tired of Louie. "I know he's hurting—"

"Really?" Dewey retorted, unable to contain the anger coursing through him. His voice took on a mocking, cruel edge. "Do you? Because you sure don't seem to act like it! He's our brother, Huey, not some stupid science project. Do you realize how hard it is to watch him hurting? Do you realize how many times he almost died today?"

"Of course, I do," Huey asserted, his voice growing sharper, harsher, defensive. "It's like you said, I'm the only one keeping a tally of these mishaps. Do you think I haven't noticed? I'm as concerned as you are—"

"Oh, don't give me that," Dewey interrupted, his voice getting louder. He didn't care if anyone heard them. "I'm the one who's trying to help Louie, I'm the one who supports his schemes, I'm the one who believes in him. When have you even noticed? If you're really keeping track of these things, you would have noticed that he was hurt ages ago, but you didn't! Because you don't care!"

"For the love of the stars, what on Earth are you talking about, Dewey? You're not making any sense—" Huey's voice was getting louder too. Fine, if he thought he could outshout Dewey, he had another thing coming. Dewey was known for being loud.

"No, we never make sense to you, do we? It's always you who has the facts straight. We're always the ones who can't see the bigger picture, can't see it through your eyes. You talk about fairness but you never give us a chance, you don't even care! You don't even trust us, do you? Do you?"

"That's not true, Dewey, and you know it—"

"Do I? Frankly, big brother, I'm not even sure what I know anymore. All I know is that you've been putting off Louie when we should be comforting him. Instead, you're making some dumb plan that's probably not even going to work. When have your plans ever worked in a situation like this? And you still continue to—"

"Because it's the only thing I am confident in, okay?" Huey's voice cracked on a sob, and Dewey immediately clacked his beak shut, feeling his own eyes water.

"Huey," he whispered, his hand reaching out to grab his older brother's shoulder, but Huey shook his head and so he let it fall against his side again. He suddenly felt heavy, feeling the weight of exhaustion to his bones.

"I had to watch you walk out on a plane wing, Dewey. You could have died, a-and I couldn't have done anything to stop it. Louie's hurt, and I don't even know the reason. You think I don't care? Of course I do. It's just that I don't seem to be able to do anything to stop you guys. Louie's schemes could get him hurt or worse, your antics could kill you, and you both are the only ones who seem to be able to protect each other. It's like you don't even need me."

"You know that's not true—"

"I'm not even sure what I know anymore," Huey whispered, parroting Dewey's words from earlier. He found that he didn't have anything to say, which Huey took as a sign to keep going. "You may have been safe that time, but who knows what will happen the next time? Louie's already hurt, I just, I don't want to shatter him further—"

"You won't know that by avoiding him," Dewey said softly, but winced it came out a little condescending. He wished Louie was here; he knew how to modulate his voice.

"I know that, Dewey, and let's be honest here, you weren't much better!" Huey shouted suddenly, and Dewey felt the rage rise once more, a seething surge akin to molten lava coursing through his veins.

"When did I ever say that I was? Stop putting words in my mouth—"

"Both of you, stop fighting!" Louie's voice sliced through Dewey's rant, his voice tense. They both turned to gaze at their younger brother, his eyes red-rimmed, holding the unshed tears like a storm on the brink. Oh, right, Louie hated conflict, and suddenly Dewey felt like the worst person on the planet. He was supposed to help Louie, not make it worse, why did he have to open up his big beak?

"Louie," Huey began, his voice a mere whisper, raspy and hoarse. Dewey felt a pang of hurt shoot through him at the sound. He had aimed to aid one brother, and now, both of them were wounded.

"You both were taking too long," Louie said, his voice carrying a weight that made Dewey's heart hurt. He showed no sign of having heard Huey, as though tethered to a world beyond their immediate turmoil. His eyes, glossy and wet, fixated somewhere beyond Dewey's shoulder, avoiding eye contact, as though it might shatter him. "I heard shouting."

"Lou," Dewey murmured softly, a fracture forming within him without clear cause. He wanted Louie to meet his gaze, to return to a semblance of normalcy. He longed for the sanctuary of their houseboat, where fear didn't loom every other moment, where the gravest concern was the capricious weather, where his brothers existed in a cocoon of safety untouched by the traumas that now haunted their nights.

But Louie shook his head, still avoiding eye contact, his weariness mirroring the exhaustion that had settled into Dewey's bones. "I'd suggest you carry the talk over to the bedroom, at least in that case they won't hear the screaming." It might be a joke, but Louie's tone is flat, drained of the energy to maintain pretenses. Something in Dewey's chest just snaps—

"Louie," his voice isn't firm or authoritative, just broken. "Louie, look at me, please."

And Louie does, and he appears so adrift, uncertain how to navigate the conversation. It's a disorienting sight, so unlike the Louie that Dewey knows, and something in his heart shatters further. "Louie," he finds himself saying, unable to think of anything else. "Louie, you're not okay."

Louie remains silent, his gaze a haunting reflection of weariness and loss, reminiscent of a stray kitten that has wandered through the shadows of life, its eyes carrying a wariness born from unspoken hurt. The weight of exhaustion clings to him like a shadow, leaving him adrift in a sea of emotions too deep for Dewey to swim in.

"Louie," Huey speaks up, a gentle disturbance that draws Louie's gaze to him. Huey sends Dewey a hopeful look, and Dewey, understanding the unspoken plea, nods. "We need to talk."

"We should," Louie agrees, surprising Dewey. "But not now."

"What the hell?" The words spill forth before he can restrain them. "Louie—"

"We'll talk after dinner," Louie says, his voice meek, a delicate whisper that leaves Dewey unable to muster further protest.

"Okay," he says simply, the word hanging in the air like a fragile thread, because it's all that he can do. "Okay."

Huey nods, trails of dry tears staining his cheeks, reminiscent of the winding paths traversed by lost travelers through desolate landscapes. Like the path Dewey can't seem to make head or tail of, where everything seems to be leading to a dead end.

Louie doesn't say anything further; he merely retrieves a bag of chips and a can of Pep! before heading towards the door. But before he can open it, he turns to them, his gaze intense and calculating in a way Dewey hasn't witnessed in days. "I think you both need to talk more than me, though. What you guys have is more important."

Before either of them can question what the hell Louie meant by that, the duckling swiftly exits, just as quickly as he had arrived, leaving behind a silence that hangs in the air like the echoes of unsung melodies.

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #angst #huey dewey and louie #dewey needs a hug #louie needs a hug #huey needs a hug #brothers #siblings #dramatic #to be continued #part 3

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maelstrom-of-emotions · 1 year ago

Text

The day felt unusually long, a rarity, especially when Scrooge McDuck was in the picture. The only times time ever seemed to stretch were during close brushes with death, pulled out like taffy.

Dewey wasn't a fan of that conclusion.

He couldn't wait for nightfall, couldn't wait to unearth the problem, couldn't wait to annihilate whoever had hurt Louie. He just wanted to set everything right, make it all go back to normal.

"I know," Huey replied, sounding exasperated, as if he were tired, tired of the world, tired of the situation, tired of Louie. "I know he's hurting—"

"That's not true, Dewey, and you know it—"

"Because it's the only thing I am confident in, okay?" Huey's voice cracked on a sob, and Dewey immediately clacked his beak shut, feeling his own eyes water.

"You know that's not true—"

"You won't know that by avoiding him," Dewey said softly, but winced it came out a little condescending. He wished Louie was here; he knew how to modulate his voice.

"When did I ever say that I was? Stop putting words in my mouth—"

"Louie," Huey began, his voice a mere whisper, raspy and hoarse. Dewey felt a pang of hurt shoot through him at the sound. He had aimed to aid one brother, and now, both of them were wounded.

"Louie," his voice isn't firm or authoritative, just broken. "Louie, look at me, please."

"Louie," Huey speaks up, a gentle disturbance that draws Louie's gaze to him. Huey sends Dewey a hopeful look, and Dewey, understanding the unspoken plea, nods. "We need to talk."

"We should," Louie agrees, surprising Dewey. "But not now."

"What the hell?" The words spill forth before he can restrain them. "Louie—"

"We'll talk after dinner," Louie says, his voice meek, a delicate whisper that leaves Dewey unable to muster further protest.

"Okay," he says simply, the word hanging in the air like a fragile thread, because it's all that he can do. "Okay."

Inspired by @stargaze-sunflower 's beautiful fics: Soldier, Poet, King and Left Behind

(My writing is a little rusty, and it's the first time writing anything for the Ducktales fandom, so it may be a bit inconsistent.)

With how often the world seemed eager on calling it quits, Dewey often forgot that his brothers are not an open book to the world as they are to him, they they weren't as transparent as they were to him. The quirks, the idiosyncrasies, the very essence of who they were—lost in translation to those who lacked the familiarity he had.

The realization knocks on Dewey's door with persistent consistency, a disappointment that keeps dialing his number. How many times must the epiphany ring before it connects? The disappointment, an unwelcome guest overstaying its welcome.

Dewey, thanks to a lifetime of triplet camaraderie, wouldn't label his brothers as cryptic, but he clings to the firm belief that others simply lack the decoder. The triplets' language is one he's been fluent in since birth.

Huey, the stoic scholar, wore his emotions like regal insignias, unfurling them proudly in the wake of accomplishment, displaying them like his Junior Woodchuck badges, full of pride with the knowledge that they got him somewhere. His world was one of cold calculations and empirical truths—a ruler navigating the realm of logic, as if his identity were sandwiched between the pages of a textbook.

Dewey, on the contrary, thrives on spontaneity, a heart-wearer in a world of calculated composure. While Huey wears his heart like a crown, Dewey showcases his with the flair of a street performer.

Louie, on the other hand, existed in shades of subtlety; a riddle wrapped in an enigma. His eerie stillness and deliberate quietness give off the impression that every move is choreographed, every smile, every laugh, every subtle movement a masterstroke of intent. Louie's deceptive nonchalance allows him to glide through life, leaving bystanders questioning if he's tuned in. Yet, beneath the surface-level disinterest, a closer look reveals unwavering awareness. Louie observes, constantly on high alert, plotting the next move—a skill heightened since their days with Uncle Scrooge, where death threats, traps, or just death were as common as morning coffee—an escape route woven into the fabric of his existence.

Nailing down what's going on with Louie was a bit of a puzzle. Most folks wouldn't have a clue about what he was feeling, but spending even some time with the guy, and suddenly it was like the easiest thing in the world. Louie's emotions were like this hidden force, internal yet gently seeping, exuding a subtle, almost imperceptible glow, discernable for anyone who bothers to notice. It's not like he's throwing his heart around for all to see, but if one squint just right, they'd find it stitched into every inch of him.

And that was the problem—nobody cared to try.

He hadn't really noticed it, what with the world throwing the towel every five seconds, and Uncle Scrooge's ridiculously long list of enemies having it out for him, and by extension, them. The problem was external these days, and he was focused on keeping them alive, forgetting that just because they were alright physically, didn't mean they were okay emotionally.

Louie certainly didn't seem to be.

Outwardly, his younger brother was doing his damned best to maintain his usual facade—no tears, no forlorn smiles. The dry, sarcastic humor persisted, and his pessimistic outlook on life remained intact. But it seemed carefully curated, with none of the instinctual ease that Louie possessed. Any topic seemed carefully brought up, every joke timed to perfection. If Dewey hadn't known his baby brother for as long as he did, he would have been fooled—scratch that, he had actually been fooled, hadn't noticed the Louie's suffering until now.

For all that Louie made sure the stage was set, there seemed to be something deeper behind the curtains, something was amiss. Dewey observed how Louie would simply stare at the screen on his phone, not scrolling, and no noise to indicate that it was a video—no earphones in sight either. He often drifted into a daze, a startled expression flashing when someone caught him in the act. His posture changed, becoming more withdrawn, as though attempting to make himself as tiny as possible, his hands buried in pockets and figure hunched.

During the Ottoman Empire marathon, an emotionally charged episode failed to elicit a single tear, a departure from Louie's typical reactions. His eating habits shifted, his favorite foods untouched. He absorbed blows without protest—no complaints when Huey accidentally shrunk his beloved hoodie or when Dewey spilled his rare cherry-flavored Pep!; he had simply cleaned it up and moved on.

Louie seemed to shy away from confrontation—not complaining once on adventures, a dry remark here and there, sure, but nothing more than that. Purposely avoiding deeper engagement.

It was like he was waiting for the grand finale, you know, the moment when the sky opens up and all the plot twists rain down. Louie, usually all chill and snark, seemed to be on edge, like he was expecting something big, something that would make a reality show producer jealous.

His entire vibe was off—skittish and scared, eyes playing host to some emotion that looked way too close to fear. It made Dewey want to tuck Louie into his ribcage, next to his heart, the safest place in the Dewey universe. He had the urge to pull him into a bear hug, to scare away whatever was spooking him because nobody messed with his baby bro on his watch.

And that led Dewey to the biggest, glaring, warning sign that something was wrong with Louie, he didn't care for comfort anymore.

Louie was the comfort connoisseur. Not the kind who demanded a five-star suite with golden faucets, but the guy who could turn a budget motel into a cozy nest. He was the master of finding the sweet spots, the snug corners, not the easiest paths, like everyone believed—though, he knew that was a plus in Louie's book—but ones that would lead to the outcome being downright comfy.

The fact that they managed to get such a good houseboat deal? All Louie's doing. Even in sketchy hotels, when Uncle Donald's wallet hit rock bottom, Louie would manage to snag the coziest rooms and the better grub. Louie was the personification of marshmallows over cozy campfires, something warm and gentle, like twinkling fairy lights and comfy teddy bears.

Louie was the comfort guy. Which made the current version of him a puzzle missing a few pieces. Safety was another thing he clung to, like a kid afraid of the dark. He was the kind of guy who'd rather avoid a situation than risk a scrape, especially for the people he cared about.��But these days, apathy, especially toward his own well-being, seemed to have taken over.

A spider crawling on him hardly elicited a blink, an arrow piercing through his hoodie didn't make him flinch. There were no screams or tears when he got hurt—Louie appeared almost resigned, as if letting fate take the reins, even if it meant getting hurt or, worse, dead. It scared the heck out of Dewey, and he was pretty confident Huey felt the same way if the startled stares were anything to go by.

Speaking of which, his older brother seemed to have come to the same conclusion as Dewey, because he kept trying to talk to Louie in a soft, cajoling voice, the one you'd use when talking to a scared animal, and Dewey knew that he wasn't the only one reading the fear in his brother's eyes, it didn't give him relief. They would need to stage an intervention, before both his brothers got hurt.

Huey wore the crown of the oldest sibling with a sense of pride, and Dewey could admit, he handled it like a pro. He embraced the role with great responsibility. Delighted with the knowledge of what ailed his younger brothers, Huey was their soothing balm, guiding them through problems with care and genuine concern. He played the role of healer, tending to their injuries, and the voice of reason, gently talking them out of their fears. This was especially true when it came to Louie. And Dewey knew his older brother must be internally kicking himself for not catching on sooner—especially considering how diligently both of them worked to make sure Louie was okay.

Now, Louie was the epitome of independence. It wasn't like they needed to hold his hand, and neither did they need to circle around him like well-intentioned piranhas, but Louie was just so young. He would clutch their arms when crossing the streets, giggle at the whimsy of bubbles, liked to make blanket forts when he was sad, and, when he had been younger, had been terrified of his own shadow. This was the same brother who had proudly unveiled his first scheme to them with a broken front tooth, the one who glowed when given even the smallest amount of praise, and shed tears over cheesy TV shows—it was hard not to feel protective, Louie was just so young.

And Dewey knew it was unfair, because for all that they called Louie their baby brother, they shared the same minute of birth. Born within mere seconds of each other, they were the same age, so calling Louie young was hypocritical. But, Dewey couldn't ignore the instinct to shield Louie from the cold, cruel world. This instinct had only grown stronger after living with Uncle Scrooge, where danger seemed to lurk around every corner. Louie was just so small, so fragile, and the world was filled with potential threats. Dewey's desire? To obliterate them all.

He wondered if this was a glimpse into Uncle Donald's feelings. A mix of acknowledging Louie's capability to handle things and yet harboring an intense desire to swoop in, shield him, and keep him hidden from the harshness of the world.

Louie, for all his clever schemes and wit, wore his sensitivity like a second skin. Criticism struck deep, and he carried the weight of self-imposed standards. If he sensed failure looming, he was quick to surrender. Louie, much like Huey, was entangled in the intricate workings of his own mind. Both brothers lost in the labyrinth of thoughts, plans, and fears. Perhaps it was this shared trait that made it easier for Huey to navigate Louie's fears, offering comfort and perspective in the storm of his worries.

Dewey and Louie were similar in the sense where they shared a depth of feeling, yet their emotional navigation took distinct paths. While Dewey emerged as an empath, immersing himself in others' emotions, Louie delved further. He didn't just feel the pain; he saw the intricate web of ways it could have unfolded. Louie's ability to perceive and internalize others' emotions went beyond empathy; he could sense their unspoken fears and anticipate their reactions. This insight allowed him to choose words that would elicit the desired response.

So, while Huey used carefully chosen words and guided conversations to comfort, to be able to articulate their feelings, Dewey brought a different kind of solace. He understood that sometimes words fell short. That sometimes, no tears could be enough to express the sadness, no smile bright enough to showcase the depth of happiness one felt, no eloquent expressions could adequately convey certain emotion.

It was why he preferred physical reassurance; so while Huey cajoled and coaxed, Dewey swooped in with hugs, cuddles, and hair ruffling, providing a tangible stability that words often struggled to achieve, actions speak louder than words and all that.

Unfortunately, Dewey couldn't just dive in for one of his bone-crushing hugs, especially without any kind of lead-up. Louie wasn't into grand displays of affection; he preferred subtler gestures like hand-holding or an arm around the shoulder. Dewey had to stick to those or risk sending Louie running for cover.

There was another hurdle: Louie's aversion to vulnerability. He despised showing weakness, so any attempt to breach that barrier had to be done with utmost care, and preferably in private. And Dewey loved his brother, but even he knew he wasn't the poster child for subtlety, so that task fell squarely on Huey's shoulders. Not that Dewey doubted his older brother's capabilities; after all, being a big brother was a serious gig for Huey, and he took his responsibilities seriously.

So, all that was left to do was wait, and make sure Louie didn't die, which seeing how apathetic he was to his own well-being, would be a feat.

#louie duck-centric #louie needs a hug #snippet #big brother dewey duck #big brother huey duck #hurt/comfort #fluff #siblings #brothers #bonding #protective brothers #ducktales 2017 #huey dewey and louie #ducktales #huey needs a hug #they all need hugs #unnecessarily dramatic #to be continued

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