#scrooge mcduck x child reader

[ducktales-lucktales]

Hi! may i please get a comedy/angst one shot of a gn, possibly adhd, young adult reader getting caught up in a duck-mcduck adventure (donald, scrooge, the triplets, della, &/or webby) and just. Being so tired(depressed but in denial abt it) & having no regard for their own life (they fall like 10 feet and go "ow." in a deadpan voice, "lol too bad that didn't kill met, etc)? But they're fully willing to sacrifice their life for others? If too dark, just same reader being comforted on a bad day?

10 Feet Down

Scrooge McDuck & GN!Reader

Word Count: 1K+

Warnings: Implied suicide attempt/no interest in being alive sort of thing. Honestly I just thought Scrooge was such a bad comfort character, but I was wrong, although Donald is the best comfort character and cannot be used for a comedic hurt/comfort with low quality comedy lmao. for real tho, this is not my best work, but it's all i got

AO3: Link

Master List 1, 2

[Y/N] yawned and tiredly recounted the days they have been couped up in the McDuck manor—76 days with the exception of yesterday and that “disaster of an adventure” Donald had called it. It wasn’t because they were being held hostage at the manor or anything of that sort, it was more of [Y/N] not being a fan of going outside and getting a taste of the harsh Calisota sun and breathing in the ocean air. They stared at the humming machine in front of them as it slowly brewed another pot of coffee. They were obsessed with the heavily caffeinated beverage regardless of the off-putting taste when they drank it plain. The homeowner loathed the bitter caffeinated drink but continued to buy the cute little machine capsules for [Y/N]. Despite Scrooge’s generosity, he constantly pushed for [Y/N] to try to drink something healthier, like tea. But to no avail. They refused time and time again. His tea didn’t have enough caffeine for them to make it through the long and boring days, it wasn’t sugaring enough to please their tastebuds, it just wasn’t a good drink.

They sighed and grabbed their favorite Irish pot’o’gold themed mug out of the designated mug cabinet (little joys in life consisted of collecting unnecessary objects that reminded them of their father-figure, but in a “I’m making fun of you, this isn’t meant to be affectionate” sort of way). They placed the mug down by the whirring machine and paced the kitchen, waiting for the slow machine to brew a full pot.

“Good morning [Y]—.” Bentina froze in the kitchen entry way. She watched the young adult pace back and forth in front of the machine. “[Y/N], you shouldn’t be up and about just yet. What are you doing up?” She asked.

[Y/N] stopped in their tracks and glanced over at the housekeeper. “I never went to bed.”

“Oh…” Bentina’s voice trailed. “Dear, that’s not good.” She started.

“I don’t want a lecture about what’s good for me. I know what’s good for me and what’s not, Mrs. B. There is only so much I can control.” [Y/N] snapped. They watched Bentina closely. “Sorry.”

Bentina shook her head. “It’s quite alright, you’re exhausted/. Exhaustion causes irritation.”

“I suppose…” Their voice trailed.

“Mr. McDuck wanted to speak with you today, he’s in his study if you want to talk with him now.” Bentina walked past [Y/N] and continued with her house keeping duties. “And try not to drink your coffee in front of him.”

They smirked. “I’ll drink the whole pot in front of him.”

Bentina sighed and nodded. “I know you will.”

[Y/N] quickly grabbed the finished pot and with a newfound and mischievous energy. They made their way to Scrooge’s study, walking faster than their legs have been moving. They slunk past a groggy Donald, who barely managed a “good morning” as he passed them. [Y/N] nodded in response. They almost felt bad for Donald, but they remembered that he’s only tired because chose to join the McDuck family on their adventure, much like [Y/N] and virtually everyone else. The adventure was something… [Y/N] stopped in their tracks and shifted their thoughts from the events from yesterday to the pot of coffee in their hands. They quickly lifted the pot to their bill and chugged what felt like half of the pot (but in reality, it was probably only two large gulps worth of liquid). They continued their journey toward Scrooge’s favorite hiding place in the manor.

It was strange to [Y/N], being part of the McDuck family without actually being related to anyone within the manor. How it came about was nothing but a blur to the young adult because it literally happened in a blur. They stopped at the door to Scrooge’s study and knocked.

“Come in.” Scrooge bellowed from behind the cracked door.

[Y/N] pushed the door open and flashed their father-figure a tired and lopsided grin. “Mornin’.”

“Do I smell that disgusting drink?” He didn’t look up from his desk. “Close the door behind ya.”

“Mhm.” [Y/N] pushed the door closed behind them and walked toward his desk. They sat down on one of the two chairs in front of the desk. “Mrs. B said you wanted to see me this morning?” They asked.

Scrooge nodded, still not looking up from his desk. “Yes, but I wasn’t expecting ya this early!” He peered up at the young adult. “You’re still full’a surprises.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” They deadpanned.

Scrooge nodded disappointedly. “I know you don’t.”

The silence grew between them as Scrooge had begun to forget [Y/N]’s presence in his study in favor of finishing his work before the day had really begun. His bill was buried deep in financials for the Money Bin and requests and suggestions from the Board and complaints and other papers from his employees and papers upon papers for other things concerning the Money Bin. His desk was full of business things that [Y/N] refused to understand because it looked too tedious and time consuming, they would much rather do anything but business—adventuring, directing, teaching, dance, acting, retail, food service, anything but owning a business! Well, none of those things actually seemed like things [Y/N] would like, but sometimes they did like those things. From their own rising boredom of the world around them, they begun to suspect that Scrooge was going to drill them about their future again. He only did that because he cared about them and wanted nothing more than for [Y/N] to have a future (unlike Donald who became a freeloader and unlike Della who has a list of mistakes that matches the length of her lists of successes). [Y/N] wasn’t the only one Scrooge cared for, the children ought to have futures better than Donald and Della as well; he wanted the future, the new generation to be as successful as he is, if not more so.

“I don’t want another lecture about my future.” [Y/N] spoke up and pulled their father-figure out of his work.

Scrooge looked up at the duck and raised his eyebrows. “What made ya think we were going to discuss that?”

They shrugged their shoulders. “Honestly, it seems to be the only conversation we have anymore. I miss when I could tell you about why the sky is blue or why a car engine works.”

“But you don’t know how a car engine works.” Scrooge knitted his eyebrows together.

“That’s beside the point, Scrooge.” They sighed.

Scrooge leaned back in his chair. “Scrooge?”

“That’s your name and I ought to use it, right?” [Y/N] said.

He blinked. “You’re family.”

[Y/N] inhaled deeply. “Am I?”

“What do you mean?” Scrooge asked.

“I don’t really feel like family, I never have.” [Y/N] said. “And I don’t actually want to talk about that either. I don’t really want to talk to you about anything personal.”

Scrooge swallowed. “I wanted to talk to you about what I witnessed yesterday.”

“I don’t understand.” They said.

“We could’ve lost you. That was a nasty fall. You could’ve died.” Scrooge said firmly. “That was more than a 10-foot drop, [Y/N]. I’m surprised you walked away with scratches.”

[Y/N] inhaled sharply. “I’m fine.”

Scrooge shook his head. “No, I don’t think you are. Honestly, I was beginning to think you were going through a phase that was similar to Donald’s—you know, the one he doesn’t talk about. I thought you were just avoiding the family, being rebellious, and learning who you are. But I was wrong. You willingly let that happened and you laughed about it. You laughed and wished it had killed you.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” They played dumb.

Scrooge sighed. “You’re not well, whether you want to admit it or not. None of us are daft, it’s not like we haven’t seen it before. Sure, at first, we missed the obvious signs, but we all know better now and we’re all very worried about you. [Y/N], family is the greatest adventure of all, and it would be a shame if you weren’t part of that adventure. I don’t want to see a repeat of yesterday.” He said.

“You can’t stop how I feel.” [Y/N] deadpanned.

Scrooge shook his head. “No, but I can get you some help. I have friends who know people, Donald knows people. There are people out there who help people like you for a living.”

[Y/N] looked down. “Are you going to get rid of me?”

“That’s not what I said at all. We’re getting you some help.” Scrooge repeated himself.

“I don’t want—.”

“Instead of getting help, you decide to try to throw your life away?” He asked as he leaned forward on his desk.

“No—yes—I mean…” [Y/N] stuttered. “I don’t think I thought you cared about me. You’re not the greatest at… parenting. But I was never your child to begin with, I was just another problem you picked up along the way.

Scrooge looked down at his hands. “A problem, yes, but you’re my problem, [Y/N]. Whether you like it or not, you’re a part of my family and I will do everything for my family. I will spare no expense on keeping my family alive and well.”

“I still don’t want help.” [Y/N] said.

“I will raise your allowance if you take the help.” Scrooge said. “And I won’t complain about your coffee habit.”

[Y/N] thought for a moment. “Don’t tell the children either. I don’t want them asking me questions the way they do with Donald’s anger management.”

“Deal.”

“And I want to use karate as a cover up since that’s something I did in my youth and the children don’t know about it. Easy lie.” [Y/N] smiled sadly.

Scrooge furrowed his eyebrows. “You took karate?”

“I wanted to take ballet, but the karate studio was the only place that would take an orphan.” [Y/N] chuckled.

“That explains so much about you.” Scrooge chuckled along. “No more adding anything to our deal.”

“Fine.”

Scrooge smiled. “That’s the first time you’ve laughed in months.” “Don’t ruin it.” [Y/N] smiled. “Thanks, dad.”

[karmawonders]

Zhongli brainrot incoming my lovely little ducklings

Notes: imma call god!reader also known as Creator as Divinity cuz it sounds cute aight? Aight. And it makes sense cuz we are the most divine thing, so like? It works. U can argue with me but I enjoy the name, and as a SAGAU x cult au consumer, that name would just FUEL my God complex.

🌸Also this is probably non comprehensive my adhd n more went nyooom with this one, so you have been warned🌸

Warnings: sagau. Religious themes. Reader is God/ above God. Yandere worshippers. Slight zhongli x childe Lemme know if I should add anything.

Aight bitches we know the drill

Zhongli? The loyalist of our devotees. Also the oldest of all the motherfuckers

My dude got arthritis or smth idk I like to think he goes over to baizhus pharmacy for painkillers occasionally since he is just an old old frail wee peepaw. (Jokes ofc)

Now listen. My man's Morax was an Archon. He may of left that title but the dude is still very much a God. Not like, as high of God as the creator is, but a God nevertheless.

Dude gots a whole ass teapot/ pocket dimension solely for a temple to Divinity.

It continuously is expanding as he finds more books that could be about Divinity / theories about Divinity, etc.

Rip to the poor adeptus who is managing it.

Sure he usually has Childe pay for his shit, but it's not cuz he is broke! He is farr from it

Dude just has

Idk

Tendencies to hoard

Curse his dragon nature ig man

All the Mora? Safely in a separate teapot outside of his temple one. You can swim in it scrooge Mcduck style. He probably does take naps in it sometimes in his dragon form ig.

So he has Childe buy a ton of things that He thinks Divinity may even possibly like or acknowledge

It is dangerous when he walks amongst the harbor shops.

Not for the shopkeepers, they quickly learned to put their finest goods out in front when the see the funeral consultant nearing.

Mostly for whoever is gonna be paying for it. Which is usually Childe.

Oh shit man you see that fancy ass tea set that dude is polishing? We gotta look at it.

"Don't drag your feet Childe, we must secure this purchase for Divinity."

Childe can't argue if he knows it's going to Divinity, to you. He's one of your worshippers to ya know, he owes you his life.

He just wishes

Ya know

Zhongli would haggle a little before immediately purchasing whatever it is

He still shudders at the time he spent that much mora for something known as a "Primogem". A solid 5 million.

Just to ya know

Learn that a certain blonde haired traveller basically gets them for free just for being their first vessel / connected to Divinity.

That one hurt a Lil ngl

I mean Learning that Divinity would find a single primogem absolutely useless if not insulting on its own.

Listen man's Divinity is still interacting through Teyvat through a screen at this time, you ain't nowhere near to actually being there physically atm.

Which gives Zhongli a good amount of time to figure out wtf to do with this questionable purchase

Now it's true that Zhongli is a vivid spender

But he knows when something is the real deal, and he won't just let that slip away.

If it happens that his walking wallet at the time doesn't have the cash for whatever item

He will very upsetti spahgetti

Yes he buys tons of things for himself

But when it was something he wanted to get as an offering g for you? Dudes gonna be very upset.

He will begrudgingly procure mora from his more teapot after asking the items owner to have it on hold for a bit, and buy it.

The next few days he works extra hard to replace the mora in his hoard

But on the bright side your temple is just looking so wonderful with that new vase!

He likes decorating a lot. From his own abode, to organizing the mora and gems in his "den", to making sure your personal temple / shrine is absolutely perfect

He really do be like one of those Sim youtubers who spent 30 hours just on the house

If he is to one day show you this, in person, he has to make sure it's absolutely perfect! Everything needs to be the finest of fine!

He sees the rug he bought 20 or so years ago slightly aging?

Bye bitch

Like imma just pawn this off since it's a great rug and I want my money's worth but it's not worth a God possibly walking upon it anymore.

In all his free time dude is in his personal temple to Divinity

Admiring the things he got for you, remembering their history should you ever ask,,, and uh

Dusting

So much dusting

Like this temple gots TON of shit in it

I mean it's bound to when he has worshipped you for so long

Probably goes on for miles

Might as well make it a public museum at this point

If there isn't like, special anti dust adeptus magic or smthing that is

Oh I just had the funniest fucking idea

You know how in other games (worlds?) Dragons live like hundreds of thousands of years before dying of old age or shit

Zhonglis like 7 thousand I think

Aka he is a baby compared to otherworld dragons

(Yes I know he is technically not a dragon dragon but shhhhhh)

So he goes on about how Erosion will sooner then later do him in and everyone's like

Noo Rex lapis perfect geo Archon nooooo fight the erosion oawr nawr

And he like ofc full heartedly believes that this is the case

Until ofc Divinity gets down there, aka you.

And your just like

"Ya old fart

when was the last time you got proper exercise

Hrm?

500 years ago?

No wonder you feel like shit bro- go hit the gym smh"

If he didn't do regular spars with Childe or any other acolytes before, he definitely does so now.

And then he feels better cuz he wasn't getting enough exercise outside of the vessel commission's he went on. Dude just wasn't getting enough dopamine in his head and fr thought it was erosion like smh

Zhongli built up Liyue for you, ya know. To Be like your favorite nation etc etc.

So I think he would be supppppeer interested in the world you were in previously

Like

Wtf is a car and a highway and wdym they are super dangerous but people are on em regularly all the time? Tf?

What the heck is air condition Divintiy you are making up words I think aksksjrdqsdfhjk

...sun...screen? Never heard of this?

Teyvat not knowing basic medical stuff would be hilarious to me

Like imagine someone is coughing on something

Let's say Itto cuz I feel like he would do that

And you just

Get behind him and heimlech him

And everyone's like

????wtf he was good as dead???

And zhonglis sitting their having war flash backs to all the people he could of saved if he JUST GAVE THEM A BIG OLD HUG FROM BEHIND?

/yes I know that's not how it works but shush aight/

Zhongli wants to know absolutely anything and EVERYTHING about Divinity

You say an off comment about liking a certain smell and dude gots like

Notebooks and sticky notes written down the very second after

And then you go back to your abode or to the shrine he has and it smells overwhelmingly like that

Like

Imagine saying you like the smell of freshly cut grass and he just goes

??? How tf do I get that smell?"

I just realized these brainrots are very fun to write and non stressful you can expect more

Anyways I love my man's Zhongli and I will die for him without hesitiation

🌸Abrupt ending queen right here, do not be surprised akkajsks🌸 and if you are shook it ended, boo!

I think this is getting a bit long and I don't wanna like have a post that makes my thumbs scroll miles before finishing it ifykyk

Anyways hope that was somewhat readable akksksksks

🌸Consider checking out my masterlist?🌸

[prose-for-hire]

Secret Santa

12 Days of Christmas: Day 1

Pairing: Wesley Wyndam-Pryce x reader

Request: If you're still accepting winter requests could I have a wesley x reader where the reader tells wesley that they still stubbornly believe in Santa claus so he gets them a gift and they do the "Santa's handwriting looks suspiciously like yours" line? I love your writing btw and hope you have a good winter!

Requested by: @alltheangstmygifttoyou​

You were sat in the library with your nose in a book. He had joined you again. The same guy, always sat two seats away from you. He never spoke to you, sometimes he glanced over when he thought you weren’t looking. You were relaxed in his presence, not many could do that. For some unknown reason in your soul, you trusted him.

You came here for fun, to find a peaceful place to read. Your apartment was full of roommates and you paid too much for very little personal space. So you spent a lot of your free time here. It was an escape from the mundane. You went on epic adventures, got lost in new lands. Met angels and demons. Read tales of good and evil. You could only dream of being a part of something like that. It was everything you wanted. Sometimes you read non-fiction. Wanting to absorb as much information as you could. You liked learning and you knew knowledge was important. The guy often noted what you were reading, he was fascinated by the array of texts you would read.

This man, a rogue demon hunter by night and a regular of the library by day was named Wesley. He had been travelling since his stint as a watcher in Sunnydale and had settled here for the moment. The truth was, Wesley had been building up the courage to speak to you for a while. He loved to sit in the library it had a great atmosphere for when he needed to focus. But since he had noticed you, the last thing he could do was focus.

He caught your eye often and sometimes you shared a smile. It was as if you were both holding your breath, seeing if the other would make a move first. But neither of you did. That was, until one day. In early December. Today. You had been to the market earlier that day and had decided to treat yourself by buying yourself some old trinket from the flea market on your way to the library. This had caught the man’s eyes and you smiled. But today, he didn’t smile back. He was staring from your neck to your face with concern. He paused for a moment, but he had to say something.

“H-Hello, could I, um, borrow that necklace?” he whispered and pointed at the chain around your neck. You blinked at him. Your frown now matching his. He never spoke to you before and the first thing he wanted was to borrow the gold chain around your neck. He hadn’t complimented it. Hadn’t said that he liked how unique it was. Just asked you to remove it.

“No, it’s mine. Sorry” you shifted away from him trying to get back into your book. But he persisted moving seats right beside you.

“it’s glowing and… leaking a yellow liquid that I know for certain is a concentration of yak’s blood and wolfsbane” He stated trying to get you to understand. The necklace had been dipped in the potion and cursed to hold something by his quick assessment of the situation.

“Sorry, you’ll have to get your own. Perhaps put it on your Christmas list to Santa” You offered unhelpfully as he looked at you aghast at the suggestion. Especially so when

“There is no such thing as Santa, now won’t you please listen to what I’m saying”

“I’ve seen you around here, you know… I had been hoping you would say something but you never did” You said slowly frowning at the way he had denounced Santa so easily, “Now I know why, you’re basically Scrooge McDuck”

“I assume that this is some caricature of one Ebenezer Scrooge and not a backhanded compliment” He muttered, shaking his head. He had imagined your first interaction going a lot smoother than this. He remembered what he was trying to do and focused on the threat instead, “I just think it would be wise for you to remove the chain and pass it over to me slowly” he said, his arms raised to highlight how serious he was. You got up to leave and he followed you out.

“But this was my Christmas present to myself, I found it on the market! And, even if I wasn’t attached to the chain, you just ruined my favourite time of year by denying Santa’s existence!” You hissed at him as you left the main room of the library and into the corridor leading to the exit.

“What are you talking about-”

“You know that the magic of Christmas, and more importantly, Santa only works if you believe” you insisted, your face deadly serious as you turned back to look at him. Stopping dead in the corridor.

“Don’t be ridiculous! Just- give me the-” he grabbed at the necklace and tugged it, breaking the clasp and pulling it from your neck. You frown, trying to snatch it back. You end up doing a crude tug-of-war with the gold chain.

This was when you both felt a white hot heat burning your fingertips. You both knew you had messed up as you yelped in unison and dropped the chain to the ground. A white light blinded you both momentarily and when it disappeared a demon was towering over you. Your eyes widened. You had never seen anything like it. You had a certain level of belief in the things you could not see or explain but you had never considered something like this. Never expected anything like the fantasy you had read in books to become a reality. But there was no other explanation than this was a demon. Perhaps it came from the books… or, oh, of course. The necklace.

“Who hath summoned me? Reveal yourself!” The booming voice echoed around the corridor as he shrugged off the tinsel he had knocked down from the walls as he had appeared. He stamped on it for good measure and scowled around.

A librarian came to tell the group to be quiet, her finger hovering over her lip ready to motion you to be silent. However, when she saw the identity of the one making all the noise she backed out of the hall and back through the double doors into the main library, shaking her head. That was more trouble than it was worth.

That left you, the Englishman and this unusual creature that kind of looked half yak, half Santa clause if he had spent the night passed out in a bush. He even had jingle bells on the lining of his cloth outfit.

“Speak, child! Who dares stand before me?!” the giant pointed at you. But Wesley stepped in front of you.

“Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, demon hunter” He recited, staring in his eyes and hoping nobody else saw his slight shaking.

“You wish to hunt me as sport? Do you know who I am?” he asked.

“Hogroth, warrior demon of the Land of Lap” Wesley stated quickly. Your eyes widened. This was too good to be true. Well, it would be if a demon who was tangled up in tinsel as if it was a web

Hogroth unsheathed his weapon and Wesley quickly started to fight against him.

After trading blows and dodging the sharp edge of the sword, Wes managed to knock the weapon from his hand. This appeared to even surprise himself. He grabbed the sword and pointed it at his chest before slashing at it. They fought against each other as you watched on like a spare part,  with the demon unwrapping the tinsel from its upper arm and used it to try and strangle Wesley.

You couldn’t let this happen. You needed a distraction. You shrugged, remembering something you had read in a fight scene. You might as well give this a go. If it was a dream you would just wake up and if it wasn’t, well, you tried to push that thought away. You ran up and jumped onto his back covering his eyes as he hit out wildly. Hogroth grabbed you and flipped you over his head leaving you landing hard on the floor. Wesley saw his chance and plunged the demon’s own knife into his heart. This left him sinking to his knees and disappearing in the same way he came. You managed to haul yourself up, breathing heavily and wondering if there had been something stronger than nutmeg in the Christmas cookies one of your roommates had given you before you left the house that day.

“Thank you, for helping me” Wesley said sincerely, “It means a great deal to me, and I do apologise about your, uh, jewellery” he motioned to the blackened scorch mark that had once been your nice chain.

“Don’t mention it” You shrugged, a lot cooler than you felt. You were still a little bemused. But of course you would help him even if you were still a little put out from the way he had so cruelly cut down your talk of Santa. You liked the magic of Christmas and if a Hogwarts demon, or whatever it was that the man said he was existed then why not Santa? It was hypocritical but you supposed it wasn’t really a necessary argument. You decided to just say your goodbyes although you did avoid the library for a while after this. You decided to have some space away from the demon you had watched die and also the self-appointed demon hunter who had insisted Santa didn’t exist.

Finally, you caved. It was the week leading up to Christmas and you had to go to return your books before the library closed for the holidays. You also needed some time out of the apartment, someone new had moved in and you had no plans over the holiday season not just because you expected your room to have been rented out if you left too far away from town. You decided the coast was clear and you stowed away in a corner to read with some peace. Time had passed and you had been transported to amazing worlds that were detailed on the pages. It made you think about what had happened. About the possibility there were real adventures out there. Real monsters to vanquish. Real heroes. Real people to offer your heart to.

“I wish to apologise properly” a familiar English voice spoke, pulling you from your thoughts. One that had been in your mind since that day. The day you met a demon for the first time. The day you met a man that you could see as a kind of angel. He sat down opposite you, a low table with a poinsettia between you.

“That’s okay, I think Santa’s the one you should be apologising to really” You say without looking up from your page, although you had stopped reading.

He just nodded once and slid a wrapped box towards you. It made you close your book slowly, looking first at him and then the gift. You cautiously reached out and turned over the note attached.

Dear y/n,

I hope that you can forgive Wesley he really likes you – it is the season of forgiveness.

He’s sorry.

Love, Santa

“Santa’s handwriting looks suspiciously like yours” You say seriously which actually made him smile wide. He was fond of you before he had even gotten to know you fully. One more look from your bright eyes or a smile from your lips and he was yours. Forever. It really was a storybook romance as you had been worrying about believing too easily. He couldn’t help but want to be with you, want to protect you. And he hoped this gift would mean that you forgave him and you could get to know each other better.

“You do not know what Santa’s handwriting looks like” He murmured, but you gave him a look as if to say of course you did. Your attention then moved to the gift. You opened the packaging slowly, savouring the moment. You had this feeling. Like this magic inside. You knew deep down that this was the man you wanted to spend the rest of your days with.

When you opened it, a perfect chain was laying on the velvet material. You gasped, trying to insist he didn’t have to do it. This was too much for an acquaintance to give.

“You lost your necklace, of course you needed a new one” He said simply, not allowing himself to gush the very feelings he had now started to harbour. It was too much to put on a person too quick. He had never believed in the kind of love in movies, much less love at first sight. But he truly understood it now.

“But I haven’t got you anything…” you say softly.

“I think, perhaps, you could do me the honour of going on a date with me? I am new here”

“Demon hunting keeps you on the road?” You say and he looks away a little embarrassed. You could see this meant a lot to him. He was lonely, “I can think of a better present” You offered, leaning in. Your eyes cast towards his lips and then back up to his eyes. He threaded his hand between the hair at the base of your neck, pulling you into him. Your lips met and a growing fever ignited inside the both of you. Your affections growing. The potential of this union a dizzying prospect. Your lips moved together softly, such feeling transferring between each other.

This Christmas was the start of a true adventure. Falling in love had been the easy part. But learning of the true extent of the demon underworld and meeting some of Wesley’s acquaintances brought more danger. You wouldn’t trade your place to be back in that cramped apartment without Wesley in your life though. For a start, he let you decorate the flat you shared in any way you liked for Christmas. He often helped and listened to direction with an adoring smile on his face when he looked at you.

Nothing ever took you away from each other. And nothing ever took Christmas away from you. Every year you celebrate with gusto and every year you can feel yourself falling more and more in love for your dorky rogue demon hunter. No matter what anyone else thought of him, he would always be your hero. Since the first day you properly met.

[ducktales-lucktales]

Could i please get Donald Duck adopting gender neutral (they/them) reader who has combined type adhd? They're around lena's age, homeless, & hang around the houseboat (pre-season 1), stealing from nearby markets & ships but never the Ducks', which makes the community sus of the family. Y/n tries to apologize for this by sneaking some stolen food/gift aboard the boat, but gets caught, & then Donald is like "whoa, that's a child"? ADHD doesn't have 2 b a huge part of the plot, just little things!

Salty Sea

Donald Duck x GN!ADHD!Reader

Word Count: 8,844

Warnings: Yeah, actually. I wrote a lot and my word document says this is 20 pages without the text dividers and this top stuff. It's also like 99% exposition and 0% what was asked of me because I am a wee bit special (over exaggeration. it's at least a 90% to 10% ratio). Anyway I'm begging for forgiveness thanks.

AO3: Link

Master List 1, 2 || Next

[Y/N] stared out at the ocean keeping them away from what mysterious things were just beyond the horizon. Perhaps there were folk dressed in sparkles or covered in faux fur on top of their fur (odd, isn’t it?). Perhaps there were Norse Gods, or the Loch Ness Monster was out there. They have always wanted to adventure and explore the world outside of the cage called Duckburg, Calisota. It was a small little town, basically owned by the “Richest Duck in The World”, Scrooge McDuck, himself. A small little hole-in-the-wall business here and there would be owned by his greatest and most bitter rival, Flintheart Glomgold and the junkyard was owned by Ma Beagle, a bitter villain, and the Beagle Boys. [Y/N] scoffed as the names of the three most dastardly figures crossed their mind and haunted the streets of Duckburg. Times such as these ones, alone by the docks, they placed heavy blame on the owners of those names. They returned to the calming ocean waves sloshing in front of them. Off to the side, those same waves crawled up shore and longed to take the dry sand down with them.

The so-called “Richest Duck in The World” was so rich and so cheap that he would never spare a dime for his city’s homeless folk. He passed by them on the street without giving them a second thought or a dime. He let them scavenge for scraps of food and clothes day after day as needed. Even then, the shelters “provided” by the rich duck fell short. No room, no supplies for them because the problem was so significant in Duckburg. Yet the world preached about this place being the place of dreams. Wild dreams like acting, sailing, and having a home to live in. The homeless folk never seemed to show themselves, allowing for the biggest scam of all time.

Flintheart Glomgold was no better than his rival. He accumulated jewels and cash and revenue solely to beat Scrooge McDuck at his own game. He never would. Mister Glomgold was nothing more than a fraud, but at least he tossed them a dime once in a blue moon. Ma Beagle was another story–a strange story. They have a debt to Ma Beagle because they were caught rummaging through Ma’s junkyard for something one night. Food, more likely than not, and that didn’t fly with Ma. They ran a handful of errands for her every Monday in exchange for one meal–usually Monday nights meal. These errands were tedious and hard to complete. Every other meal and day of the week was on [Y/N].

The seagulls overhead screeched, searching for some poor soul with a sandwich in their hands. Seagulls loved to dive down and nearly rip someone’s hand off just to nibble at the poor soul’s sandwich and leave it not a moment later. They circled above them only to leave because they were rather uninteresting.

The ocean beyond the beach called their name. The dream of sailing the ocean blue was overwhelmingly fiction at this stage. [Y/N] glanced over at the boat sitting against the dock. The boat looked as though it could house a family, and they thought it house a lonely entrepreneur all but a few years back–only to find it housed a family of four. The folk living in the boathouse were kempt and inadvertently anti-social, save for when the boys make a friend or three and spending their time with those friends. They were younger than [Y/N] by a few years, couldn’t be more than a seven-year difference and couldn’t be less than a three-year difference. These folk were somewhat of a relief. They most likely didn’t even know [Y/N] didn’t exist, and that was far better than the folk that lived in Duckburg that knew them by name and still let them suffer. Or the folk that had too much money than they knew what to do with and willingly left [Y/N] to suffer. Or the folk that use homeless children and teenagers to their advantage–theft, petty crimes, and other small tasks that [Y/N] just so happened to be highly skilled in–you can forget about large tasks. Ha. But even those small tasks failed to keep their attention. Routine was boring.

[Y/N] tapped their hands against the boardwalk post, thoughtless for the first time this evening. The ocean slowly calmed down and the breeze rolled in. They stood up from the post and ran down to the beach as the sun began to set against the water, turning the water a dark blue and orange color where the sun sat. They could only dream of sharing the view with someone who cared about them. What a dream that is to have someone. They rocked back and forth in the sand and thought for a moment about making friends with the boys that live in the boat–maybe making friends would call attention to their situation and someone would care. Or maybe making friends would allow them to have a real meal. A real meal seems like the most distant memory, if there even is a memory of a real meal. [Y/N] no longer knows. Even having a friend seemed like a distant memory, they probably never even had a friend. What a lonely world.

They looked down at the sand that slowly enveloped their feet as if it were quicksand. But it wasn’t, quicksand being dangerous was a myth, wasn’t it? And it certainly wouldn’t be found in Calisota of all states, maybe more of the desert states that [Y/N] would love to avoid. Desert equals hot. Or was it that quicksand was found more in the tropical places? Quicksand would be wet, tropical places tend to be wet. Maybe the local library would have the answer to that one.

[Y/N] turned in the sand and faced the city of Duckburg. The city was pretty when the orange of the setting sun hit it from this angle. The buildings all had an orange tint–white was now a light orange, pink started to turn coral, blue began turning a grey-brown color. The birds were quick black blobs, whizzing past the skyline. They trudged back up the beach and glanced back at the boat. They almost felt bad for camping near the boat during the day, but the view was… stunning.

[Y/N] slowly climbed off the beach with a mission in mind. Going home. It wasn’t so fun in the dark. They kicked the sand off of their feet on the sidewalk then ran across the street.

“There goes the weird kid again.” The folk whispered as they crossed the three-way intersection.

“Quick, guard your belongings.” One guarded their belongings as [Y/N] walked past the outdoor restaurant tables.

“I bet those kids by the docks have their hands in this.” A couple leaned close together and murmured as they watched [Y/N] pass them with their hands in their pockets and no food in sight.

An elder spoke up. “That Donald Duck is not qualified to raise kids if he lets one of them go around thieving.”

Donald Duck. That’s a name to remember. They began to wonder if the whispers ever reached the ears of this Donald Duck character.

[Y/N] slunk into the alley between the newest Italian restaurant and the local coffee shop, both places usually had plenty of food simply tossed out back rather than thrown away properly or donated as they are required to be doing. Breads may have been stale, and pizzas have been burnt to a crisp and the extra’s on the menu ended up back here as well. The day felt different, almost as if something in the air had changed. Perhaps when the crazy scientist on the news station from the morning claimed to be making artificial air, he wasn’t joking. Air in a bottle would be weird. Flies circled the trash bags that have been sitting for days. [Y/N] watched them as they seemingly slowed down and paid close attention to them as they flew rhythmically.

They turned their attention to the slowly dimming orange light of the sun. As if hiding in an alley didn’t make the sun less vibrant already. [Y/N] watched as the folks elongated shadows disappeared to the left and right of the restaurant and coffee shop. They all seemed to be actively avoiding walking past the alley unless they were across the street. A lovely alley cat rattled a nearby trashcan as it ran up to [Y/N] begging them for their food. They would love to give the poor alley cat food, but they only found a few uncontaminated loaves of bread for themselves. The alley cate stared deep into their eyes. [Y/N] blinked and ripped their loaf in half and placed the half on the ground for the thin cat.

[Y/N] jumped at the sound of a heavy metal door hitting the back wall of the alley and the stray alley cat ran back behind the trashcans with their half of the loaf.

“Sir, the kid is back.” A barista holding trash bags yelled back into her building to her manager.

“Kid, I’ve told you, you can’t hang out back here.” The coffee shop manager stood in the doorway with his arms crossed.

[Y/N] blinked up at the manager with a mouthful of bread. “Sorry, I guess I forgot.”

“Go home.” He sighed.

[Y/N] pulled themselves up off the ground and scooped up the other loaf of bread that they saved. They walked back into the now blueish-grey city. Their eyes flicked towards the birds of the night flocking to their favorite tree to squawk at some unsuspecting night-time runners. They quickly turned their attention to a pair of squirrels running towards a bird-less tree. The night was rather dull and empty, unusual for a Thursday. If today even was Thursday. [Y/N] couldn’t remember what they said the date was on the news this morning when they spent their last wad of cash on breakfast, in fact the only thing they remember from the news was that weird scientist and his air in a bottle.

They began their walk towards their makeshift shelter behind the abandoned mini mall (those strips of small business complexes that were “malls” because they had mall-type stores before malls became large indoor shopping centers–or more recently outdoor malls with the shape of indoor malls but were outdoor strips like strip malls). [Y/N] used to sleep inside the old mom-and-pop owned mattress store on one of the beds that was left behind when the strip went bankrupt from Scrooge McDuck’s unnecessary rent cost. Recently, one of Scrooge McDuck’s businesses bought the complex and cleared out each of the buildings, leaving them with nothing inside and no more inside access by changing the locks upon purchase. [Y/N] had no choice but to make themselves a shelter outside of the mall where no one would bother them as it is technically still abandoned as far as the city cares.

The makeshift shelter consisted of an old sleeping bag that they stole from a sports store–apparently camping is a sport, a makeshift tent made from stilts, blankets, and nails. The tent was really only there to ensure that no one would steal the few things that they owned. A bookbag full of clothes, a small selection of pocketknives, and a pot for cooking. Wood for building a very small flame was gathered depending on whether or not it was needed for food–typically the nights they would sneak onto the ships that sailed into the docks to import goods and fish. Fish at the docks was far from sushi-grade salmon; cooked or suffer the consequences. The boats that sailed in sometimes weren’t unloaded until the following day because they were essentially giant fridges inside, so at least they had that advantage compared to the market and the city shops. The market that surrounded the dock was a bit of a gamble to steal from because it had to be done in broad daylight.

[Y/N] sat down on their sleeping bag and bounded their legs against their feet like butterfly wings flapping–not to be confused with a moth. Not sure why those two things would be confused but butterflies are more pleasing to look at. Moths are terrifying. Their mind wandered to this Donald Duck character. Did he own the boat at the docks that they hung around? If so, why would the folk accuse him of having been involved with their scheme to eat? If he did own the boat, did he catch wind of the accusations? If he ever met them, would he be mad at them?

They laid back and smack their hands to their head in distress. They shook their head and laughed at those pesky thoughts. Somedays it wasn’t just the words spoken aloud that never seemed to let anyone catch up with them, it was also the words spoken in thought that never seemed to allow [Y/N] to catch up.

[Y/N] smiled as they watched the early morning market stalls begin to open up. The fish stalls were closest to the docks and the water while the more agricultural stalls were closer to the land–neat and smart. They took a deep breath; waiting for the stall owners to quit paying attention was so hard. They tapped their foot against the wooden boards impatiently and suddenly they sprinted towards the most appealing fish stall: flat Calisota fish. Sanddabs! They slowed their pace and crouched alongside the front of the stall to remain mostly unseen by the owner who hadn’t notice them yet. They quickly reached into the front most bin of Sanddabs and grabbed two by the tail. [Y/N] dashed towards the agricultural stalls, almost got out scot-free and yet they slowed their pace as they neared the fruits and vegetables, distracted by the boat engine coughing in the distance.

“That kid stole fish!” A deep voice yelled behind them. Heavy footsteps pounded against the boards after them.

[Y/N] exhaled slowly and stared at the shaking boat in the distance. The engine suddenly stopped, and the sound of incoherent yelling floated towards them.

“Grab that kid!” A female voice rang. The sound of a body hitting the sturdy wood echoed behind them.

[Y/N] turned to face the voices that caught them in the act, only for a tight grip to envelope their arm, giving no wiggle room. They thrashed in the large fisherman’s hand, the groaned and grunted as they tried to pull themselves away. All to no avail and they gave themselves an Indian burn.

“Drop the fish, kid.” The fisherman loomed over them. The fisherman wore a yellow raincoat and a matching hat. He had a hook for a left hand and a scar over his left eye. [Y/N]’s imagination ran wild, the swore they saw a flash of lightening behind this monster of a living-thing.

“No way!” [Y/N] continued to wriggle in the fisherman’s grasp. They twisted their arm and tried to walk backwards to get away only for their hand to be unable to slip through the fisherman’s fist.

He shook his head. “Then you got to pay for them.” His voice drew the attention of the entire market. It was a deep, but scratchy voice. He sounded like one of those characters from a ghost story. The Fisherman! That’s a story [Y/N] could write about one day. A horror novel about a scary, tall, freakish boat dweller. A hook for a hand, a scar over one eye, and thirsty for… Blood!

“I don’t have anything, but I have to eat too!” They tried pulling themselves away from the fisherman by using their free hand to free their trapped hand. The fisherman’s grip was tight. Painful even. And no amount of struggle was getting them anywhere – the fisherman had delt with rascals like them before, obviously, and the fisherman was no doubt someone that used to go to the gym. [Y/N] dropped the bag of sanddab and grunted as they kept trying to pull away with some useless strategy. Their heels slid across the boards as they failed to pull back. “Come on! Let go! I’m starving!”

“That’s the dumb kid that hangs around the Duck’s houseboat. I bet you steal for them, you little thief.” A slender fisherwoman noted. She was tall and lanky. Her nails were as sharp as some of the cruel words she kept to herself. “You know, kid, you shouldn’t steal. It might get you into some real trouble someday.” She laughed a velvety maniacal laugh as she reached down and grabbed the fallen fish with her nails.

“Give those back! I stole them square!” [Y/N] thrashed.

The fisherman released them from their grasped and laughed as [Y/N] hurled themselves into the ground. “You didn’t get far enough to steal them square, kid. If that Duck fellow is smart, he’d teach you how to steal properly.” The fisherman poked his hook through the two fish and walked towards the stall they came from.

“Run on home, you don’t want the authorities involved, do you?” The fisherwoman offered her warning.

[Y/N] shook their head and pulled themselves to their feet.

“And tell your old man to quit sending you out here. It’s getting pretty old.” She mused.

“I don’t know the guy who lives in that stupid boat! I just want to eat, why won’t you folks believe me?” [Y/N] raised their voice.

The fisherwoman shook her head. “I’m not going to tell you to get lost again. If we see you around here again, the nice chief of police will deal with you, and you can say bye-bye to your family.”

[Y/N] rubbed their arm and stomped away. These folk don’t seem to listen! They don’t know the family in the boat, they just hang around that area. They’re not family to [Y/N]. But having a family does sound nice. They pace back and forth across the street.

What to do?

What to do?

Do I steal from that family to prove to these folk that I’m not one of them? Do I let that family live without suffering from me thieving from them?

What to do?

What to do?

[Y/N] stopped in their tracks and watched the boat. The three boys ran off the boat yelling their goodbyes to their dad. They sighed and sat down on the curb. Their stomach was rumbling, and it was Fish Friday. It could easily be turned into Pizza Friday or Chicken Friday or something of the sorts, couldn’t it? It could, but they wanted Fish Friday. They didn’t want to keep missing out but sometimes they have to. [Y/N] picked up a white pebble and scraped it along the sizzling Calisota road. White streaks followed their hand movement. It’s a pebble but it draws like it is chalk. Weird. But today has to be Pizza Friday or something at this rate. The Italian restaurant doesn’t open until noon on Friday’s. It was a weird thought but if this family of four was getting hounded for their actions, how much trouble were they really causing? And is the dad a single dad? He must be, [Y/N] has never seen another adult leave or enter the boat. Slowly, they started to feel worse. A dad of three having to deal with the consequences of [Y/N]’s actions.

Ugh!

They continued to scrap the little pebble across the ground and felt as it shrunk. They bounced their legs–right, left, right, left–in rapid succession.

“Hey! What’s the big idea!” An incoherent voice shouted.

“Well, if it isn’t Donald Duck,” the fisherman chuckled. “Come to pick up your thieving brat?” The fisherman pointed at [Y/N].

The short duck, called Donald Duck, looked over at [Y/N]. “That’s not one of my boys.” He protested.

“You’re pulling my leg, Duck.” The fisherman crossed his arms. “You’re trying to tell me that that kid, sitting right there, isn’t yours? They play around the boat. I’ve never seen them anywhere else.”

“I only have three boys.” Donald began.

The fisherman put his hand up. “I don’t want to hear it, Duck. Until you straighten that kid you, your whole family isn’t allowed here. That means quit thieving. You hear?”

[Y/N] accidentally locked eyes with this Donald Duck character. They stood up and prepared for the worst confrontation of their life. Or so they thought. Their jittery brain moved their legs father than they could think of what to do next. They ran through the streets.

“Sorry!”

“’Scuse me!”

“My bad!”

[Y/N] ran through a crowd waiting for a bus and swerved between folk just simply walking. They ran in front of a couple of cyclists and nearly knocked them all down. [Y/N] huffed as they neared the empty public park. The climbed up the slide and hid in the peak. [Y/N] breathed heavily and leaned against the circular rocket wall.

Almost caught!

They squeezed their eyes shut. The “duck” who lived in the houseboat must be furious with them now. Getting him banned from the market because everyone there thinks they are one of his boys. There has to be something they can do.

[Y/N] scooted toward the slide and slid down. They sat at the end of the slid and looked around. Empty as it should be. They ran back to their makeshift shelter with a brilliant plan in mind, sneaking through their usual shortcuts between shops and businesses. Taking 7th Avenue versus taking 13th Avenue. Climbing an apartment buildings fire escape and jumping from fire escape to fire escape, then from rooftop to rooftop, until they reach the corner of Main and 2nd. They jumped from the roof of the pizzeria onto the large oak tree they planted outside of their building. [Y/N] climbed down the tree and walked toward the abandoned strip mall. That actually was not a shortcut, that took a lot longer than [Y/N] had hoped! Maybe they’re losing their touch or time itself is slowing down.

Like a curse!

Oh no, a curse!

[Y/N] walked toward the little strip mall and inhaled. They looked at themselves in the reflection of the dust covered glass. Tattered clothes, the graphic print was faded into near nothingness, hair was a knotted mess–hairbrushes were hard to find. [Y/N] turned around at the sight of a red aircraft taking off from nearby. They walked out from under the awning and watched the craft waver and stagger in the sky. They looked down at their clothes–the color was easier to see when looking down. Brown and blue. [Y/N] turned and walked around the building.

Home sweet h–awe man.

They came face to face with a notice on their tent–how gracious of the new building owners to let them know they only have today to remove themselves from the premises or they will be removed by force or by the authorities (which was by force but with extra steps). They laughed at the notice and crumpled it in their hands and dropped it at their feet. They grabbed their bag and slung it over their shoulder and rolled their sleeping bag up and secured it with three thinning rope pieces. The tent can stay, it’s not worth moving as they have no way to carry it or dismantle the stilt skeleton.

[Y/N] held their sleeping bag under their arm and slowly walked away from the building. They could check the homeless shelters again to see if there were any spaces for them now, or they could skip that and go straight to sleeping on the side of the roads again. They weighed their options and felt like the first option would just land them on the street automatically. It wasn’t so bad sleeping in the open but falling off of a bench definitely felt bad though.

[Y/N] walked on, falling out of touch with reality. They walked out to the docks where there was a single dinghy with their name on it. The SS [Y/N] was ready to set sail into the unknown. They breathed in the salty and fishy sea and threw their sleeping bag and bookbag over the side of the dinghy. [Y/N] looked behind them to take in one last look of Duckburg. The city skyline was bright, it was almost as if they could see everything. The colors of the taller buildings against the shorter ones. The clear avoidance of looking at Flintheart Glomgold and Scrooge McDuck’s buildings. They turned on their heel and climbed into the dinghy and set sail to who knows where! Adventure! Mystery! New life! And danger awaited them!

“YOU!” A scratchy voice called.

“Huh?” [Y/N] found themselves back in reality, walking past the public park yet again–no help from that so-called shortcut.

“Get back here!” The scratchy voice called again. “You need to stop causing trouble!”

[Y/N] stared at the duck from earlier. Run? Run. The answer was to run and avoid confrontation. They ran toward the park and ducked underneath the slide. The duck followed them into the park, yelling incoherently for them to stop running from him so that they could talk. Talking was most definitely[Y/N]’s strong suit but confrontation was not. They ran out from under the playground and toward the fence. [Y/N] came to a screeching halt at the fence. They peered through a crack between two panels. Sweet alleyway. They thew their sleeping bag over the top of the fence and quickly looked back at the angry, unintelligible duck chasing them. They jumped up and just barely grabbed the top of the fence. They started to swing their legs until they could get their heel over the top. Using their heel and their leg strength, [Y/N] threw themselves over the fence and landed on their sleeping bag with a thump.

“Oof–.”

[Y/N] dove into the alleyway and hid behind an empty dumpster. The duck that was chasing them ran straight into the fence with a thump and shouted some explicit words that they have only heard Ma Beagle and the Beagle Boys use in public. The duck thumped his head against the fence softly and sighed.

“I just want to talk to you,” he said.

[Y/N] only held their breath and waited for the duck to disappear. They blinked at the wall in front of them and slowly slipped away from reality to imagine what catastrophe might occur of they came face to face with this crazy duck from the docks.

[Y/N] stood up and walked toward the fence. “Only if you move away from the fence. I’ll come back over.” They spoke slowly. They jumped up and peered over the top of the fence to see that the mysterious duck had backed away from the fence. “I’m coming back over. Watch out.” They said as a warning. [Y/N] swung their leg over the fence flawlessly and flipped themselves over. They landed on their feet as if they had been practicing fence jumping their entire life. They looked up at the duck–he was rather calm for having just screamed incoherently for what seemed like a very long time (well, save for the red flesh-tone poking out from underneath his feathers).

“What are you causing all kinds of trouble for, kid?” He restrained himself.

[Y/N] shrugged their shoulders. “I have to eat. This is how I eat.”

The duck stared at them. “You steal to eat? Where are you parents?”

[Y/N] sighed. “If I had any, do you think I’d be stealing?”

The duck remained silent; it was a valid point.

They outstretched their arms. “My clothes look like I pulled them out of a woodchipper, I don’t even have warm clothes because I can’t find any. I used to live behind the old mattress store, but I was told to leave by one of Scrooge McDuck’s stupid businesses or I’d be in serious trouble, and I don’t want to talk to any mean cops. I can’t even find a brush to brush my hair, okay? This is the reality!” Their voice strained.

“You don’t have any family anywhere?” He asked.

“None.” They spoke.

The duck fell silent again and pulled out a phone. “Someone needs to get involved. No kid should be out here like this.”

“No don’t do that!” They smacked the duck’s phone out of his hands.

In the blink of an eye, the entire police unit jumped out of the shadows and surrounded them.

[Y/N] gasped and hit their head against the wall of the building. They blinked and looked around at the alley. “Man, I’m good at making up scenarios that will never happen.” They whispered to themselves. [Y/N] got up and walked toward the fence again and peered through the crack between two panels. There was no one there. No one was waiting. No one was going to get involved. They sighed, relieved and hid back behind the dumpster for the night.

[Y/N] woke up to a black sky with specks of twinkling glitter. They sat up and rubbed their hands together–it was a little chilly without the sleeping bag encasing them. They slung the bag over their shoulders and picked up their sleeping bag. They peered out of the crack in the fence again and saw nothing except for streetlights illuminating the park and a single raccoon racing its own shadow. They threw their sleeping bag back over the fence and groaned. Actually, they don’t even remember falling asleep–how did that happen?

Again, we go!

They jumped up and grabbed the top of the fence and swung their leg up a handful of times and whined. “This is so much easier in the movies!” They swung their leg up again until they finally got their foot over the top of the fence and flipped themselves over the fence. [Y/N] landed on their sleeping bag with a thump, they rolled off of the bag onto their side. They were so much better at this in their little fictional scenario…

Not cool.

They got up onto their feet.

About that brilliant idea I forgot about.

A gift! Yeah!

And ran toward the docks. The boats were at the docks. That was a good sign. That meant [Y/N] could get their hands on something delicious and raw. They ran across the shaky wooden dock and up to the side of the boat. They backed up, dropped their sleeping bag and bookbag close to the main dock building, and ran, giving themselves enough momentum to jump and land on the deck. And they did just that–sort of. They rolled on the deck and kept rolling until they were in front of the hatch. They opened the hatch. All fishing boats kept their catches below deck, for obvious reason, especially in these new prototype freezer boats. They peered down the now open hatch of the boat and stared down at the stored fish with the help of the moon. They jumped down and looked for the smallest crate of fish. They weaved through the barrels and ice coolers of freshly caught fish until they reached the crates of ready to sell fish. A single crate of five fish on ice wouldn’t hurt for them to miss, would it? It would be a great gift, right? [Y/N] grabbed the top crate and hauled it towards the open hatch. They set the crate down at their feet and turned back around. There has to be a lid somewhere. They ventured back into the freezer and looked around for something that resembled a lid. Most of what was down here were fish, full crates, and empty crates. They shuddered and walked back towards the open hatch and pulled the ladder down. [Y/N] picked the crate back up and climbed up the ladder with one hand and little to no balance.

Once they reached the deck the set the crate down on the deck and leaned over onto their stomach and crawled forward. They turned around and stuck their hand down the hatch and pulled the ladder back up as if they were never there. They then closed the hatch and jumped to their feet. [Y/N] grabbed the crate and held it with their arms over the fish just resting on top. Without much thought, [Y/N] ran in the direction of the dock jumped over the little boat wall onto the dock. They landed on their feet but lost their balance and fell backward.

“Ha-ha!” They laughed with pride. “Success!”

[Y/N] scrambled to their feet and walked towards their bags–now it’s just a game of carrying everything without dropping it all. They set the crate of fish down and slung their bookbag back over their shoulder and lifted held the crate of fish under their arm as if they were carrying a laundry basket and held their sleeping bag under their other arm. The ice will keep the fish cool for a while, but fish alone isn’t sufficient enough. There must be something else [Y/N] could give to the duck that lives in the houseboat.

They walked away from the market dock and back towards the quiet city. The streetlights illuminated everything. Flies, stray animals, wild animals, trash spilling out of the alleyways, and folk just like them. [Y/N] scurried past everything and everyone that focused on their crate of iced fish.

Gotta hide now.

Gotta get to one of those superstores.

[Y/N] turned the corner and started walking in the direction of Duckburg’s 24-hr superstore. The store is said to have it all: groceries, costumes, home appliances, furniture, technology, crafts, plants, and more. Crazy to think that a store could hold so much–terrible to think that it’s okay to be open 24-hrs. Yuck! Two gifts will always be better than one and this superstore is the best place to get another gift. Probably.

I have no idea what that boat dweller likes.

What would you get someone that you’ve inconvenienced?

[Y/N] stood on the barely occupied parking lot. “Oh, my God.” The store from the outside was huge. Now where were they going to hide their stuff while the looked to steal? They looked around the parking lot.

Open space.

More open space,

Oh look, bushes.

More open space,

Wait, bushes!

[Y/N] slowly walked towards the far side of the parking lot the housed the bushes in question. The parking lot was very empty and dark along this side. No one seemed to park over in this direction and for some reason they didn’t install as many lights. Kind of convenient! Maybe the lack of lights is what caused there to be no cars? They picked up their pace as they were somehow moving too slow for their own liking. They set the crate of fish down in the bushes–more ice might be in order for these guys. [Y/N] set down their sleeping bag and untied the breaking ropes. They promptly emptied the contents of their bookbag onto the sleeping bag and rolled it back up in order to protect what little they owned. They rolled the sleeping bag back up and walked towards the store.

[Y/N] walked through the automatic sliding doors and was wowed instantly. The store went on for miles and miles! They looked around with large, surprised eyes and they smiled at how far back the walls go. They walked further into the store and followed the hanging signs. This section is clothes, this one is kitchen appliances. That one toward the back is electronics. [Y/N] has no idea what to look for in this disaster of a store–maybe they can find the arts and crafts section and make this duck something. They had no idea where to start their little gift hunting adventure. [Y/N] turned on their heel and walked toward the kitchen appliances. Pots and pans!

Grown-ups seem to have an endless supply of pots and pans. I am giving him fish so maybe I can give him new pots and pans for the fish.

[Y/N] stared at all of the different types of pans. Stainless Steel, Non-stick, Carbon Steel, Stone Earth, classic pans, double pans, and Iron pans! They are way in over their head right now. They had, however, heard that the newest fancy-folk restaurant uses the Stone Earth pans. If a restaurant uses something that means they’re good, right? They blinked at the ashy stone-colored pan set and grabbed it off of the hook and shrugged. A set of five should be good enough. They glanced to their sides to ensure no one was watching and stuffed the pans in their empty bookbag.

Ice, ice baby!

[Y/N] walked out of the aisle, lost. No idea where to find ice. They huffed and walked towards the front of the store where most grocery stores usually kept their ice. They were greeted with a sign on the ice cooler: “Ice temporarily unavailable at this location.” They groaned. With how early in the day it is, o other store was open and [Y/N] stole those fish for nothing! They stomped out of the store and snickered as they got out without any alarms wailing about a stolen product. [Y/N] continued to drag their feet as they walked all the way to where they had hidden their belongings.

[Y/N] climbed up the side of the houseboat with one arm and coughed out some water they had inhaled. They dropped the Stone-Earth pan set–wrapped in their sleeping bag to avoid getting drenched with salt water–over the ledge of the boat. They hurled themselves over the boat and lay on their side, coughing out ore water they have inhaled. Salt water does not taste that grand, it’s a zero-star review. [Y/N] rolled onto their hands and knees and slowly pulled themselves to their feet using the wall next to them. The boys had left about 40 minutes ago, and the Donald Duck character had left about 15 minutes ago. [Y/N] should be in the clear.

They unrolled their sleeping bag and pulled the pan set out. The packaging got a little wet but that wouldn’t hurt any of the pans, right? [Y/N] rolled the sleeping bag back up and secured it with their last surviving rope (not for long) and looped their hand through the rope, holding the knot as an extra safety measure. They walked along the deck until the found was they thought was a “front” door, it was probably just the door to the hull (the hull? The house part?). [Y/N] jiggled the doorknob–locked, as expected.

[Y/N] walked in circles wondering, now, how to sneak the gift through the door. They aren’t a magician, it’s not like they can snap their fingers and poof! The gift is inside.

“Why you–! What’s the big idea? What are you doing here?” The scratchy voice called out.

“Busted.” They whispered to themselves. “Maybe not.”

He angrily walked up and onto the boat. “What are–?”

[Y/N] held the set of pans in front of their face and squeezed their eyes shut. “This is for you. I know those folks at the dock have been giving you loads of trouble ‘cause of me and I thought I could give you something for it. I was hoping to leave it or that someone was home to take it for you. I didn’t mean the run from you yesterday. Those same folks were giving me trouble–that’s nothing new though.” They slowly lowered and pan and peered over it to view the duck before them.

“That’s… awfully kind of you.” Donald eyed them.

“I don’t want to be your enemy or have those folk make enemies out of you. It’s not right. I don’t know what they expect me to do. I still haven’t found a new place to sleep. And no one even listens to me. I can scream so loud about not being one of your kids, but they don’t hear me. Just ‘cause they see me by the water, they think I belong to you. I just like the way the water looks from over there.” [Y/N] motioned their head towards where they usually camp out in the day. “Your boats nice. I want to live on a boat one day–sail away from Duckburg and all the people here. There’s nothing for me here anyway, I just have no way of getting a boat right now. Here, take the gift.” They shoved the pans toward Donald.

Donald took the gift from their hand. “How’d you get these–actually don’t tell me.”

[Y/N] smiled up at Donald. “I hope they’re good. I heard that new fancy-folk restaurant up near Mister Glomgold’s building uses these types of pans. I thought that if a restaurant uses them, they must be really good. I didn’t really know what to get you to say that I’m sorry for causing all kinds of trouble. I really didn’t mean to be a pain.”

“Would you like to come in for brunch?” Donald asked.

[Y/N] shook their head. “I should leave you be. You must be busy and all. I’ve seen your boys around, they’re crazy. They must be so lucky that you put up with them. I wish I had someone to put up with me.” They flashed Donald a small smile and slowly walked off of the boat. “Oh!” They turned on their heels.

“Yes?” Donald nearly perked up as if they were going to change their mind.

“I promise not to cause trouble around here anymore. It’s not fair to you.” They turned back around and walked toward the city. Blocking out any sound that wasn’t the ocean or the screeching of the seagulls, they ran across the street with nothing to do and nowhere to go.

[Y/N] walked where their thoughts guided them: the police station. Surely that was a smart plan, an action plan. The stuck-up police can guide them in the right direction–more like take control of the situation. Was even walking in that direction smart anymore? [Y/N] paused across the street of the horrific police station. The grey building with black and blue accents and lightening behind it. Suddenly, the thought of using these folk for help was a bad thought and an even worse idea. They gulp and they ran across the street, having no regard for street laws. [Y/N] ran straight to the revolving doors and spun around them thrice for the sake of spinning a third time. They stumbled, partially dizzy, into the station and up to the front desk.

“Can you help?” They squeaked.

“Of course, what can I help you with, kiddo?” The officer at the front desk asked.

[Y/N] took a deep breath. “My names [Y/N] and I can’t find any room at any of the shelters. Is there any way you can help me with that?”

The officer furrowed his eyebrows in distress. “No room at the homeless shelter, ‘ey? Well, let me see if Officer Cabrera is available. Just between you and me, she might have to ship you out to one of the local orphanages–and they aren’t local.” The officer turned away from [Y/N] and lifted the phone.

[Y/N] stared, breathless. Orphanage. Out of Duckburg. For some reason that felt wrong to them now. It was practically a dream come true to get out of Duckburg, they just weren’t leaving on a boat. That glimmer of hope that that Donald Duck character had when they turned on their heel, what was all that about?

The officer faced [Y/N] again. “She’ll be back in about 30 minutes. She’s going to make some calls on her way here to get something sorted out. It’s a good thing you came by. How about I call for some lunch for you?”

[Y/N]’s eyes sparkled. “Lunch? I’m starving. Can I get some seafood? Oh, no! Maybe some sandwiches instead. I do also like pizza. I’m not going to lie; I really like a lot of foods.”

“Slow down. I was thinking pizza since they deliver. What toppings–?” The officer asked.

“Meat lovers! Or chicken, bacon, and ranch! Veggie pizzas are always good! Caprese pizzas are yummy! I can’t decide!” [Y/N] threw their arms over the front desk. “You can pick for me. I’m not picky. How nice is Officer Cabrera? Who is she calling?”

The officer raised his eyebrows as he watched [Y/N] move and talk a mile a minute. “Right, let’s go with cheese. And she’s, um, just making phone calls. Seeing if we can find out if you have family.” The officer paused.

“If I do, they’re not in Duckburg. And it’s not like they’ll just up and take me when they get a phone call. Folk, even family, don’t are all too much. I would know.” [Y/N] snarled. “Don’t even bother looking for any family, if I had any that cared they would’ve helped back when mom and dad–.” They paused as the tears started to form. The pushed away from the front desk and stomped over to the chairs.

“We’ll do everything we can to get you out of this situation, alright?” The officer changed their tone entirely. They voice was now soft and trying to express some level of understanding–the officer will never understand.

[Y/N] sat in the chair and kicked their feet up and swung them back down. They were frustrated, maybe even a little sad now, with even coming here. The officer wanted to help but family was not the way to start. They didn’t even want to know right away what might happen to them when that Officer Cabrera arrives, but the officer at the front desk told them anyway assuming that they wanted to know what was probably going to happen.

They wandered back to that Donald Duck character. Why did he want [Y/N] to stay for brunch? Was he going to call the cops? Did he just want to talk to them? Now [Y/N] wished they stayed back and found out.

“Wait!”

“Stop!”

“Huh?” [Y/N] turned around to see the same duck coming back into the picture for what seemed like the hundredth time.

“Donald Duck.” Officer Cabrera crossed her arms and watched the hot-headed duck approach them. “What are you doing here?”

Donald came to a screeching halt. “They’re my responsibility.” He huffed and pointed at [Y/N].

“Do you have legal proof?” Officer Cabrera asked.

Donald gulped and motioned for Officer Cabrera to step to the side with him.

[Y/N] stood in front of the police car with a slice of pizza in hand and the look of confusion written all over their face. They watched the adults whisper aggressively back and forth while motioning sporadically at [Y/N]. Words such as “homeless” and “proper care” and “orphanage” and “chance” were thrown around in haste. [Y/N] bobbed from heel to toe as they decided it was time to look up–literally, not figurately. Gloomy clouds started to roll over. A large flock of black dots flew strategically away from the clouds, presumably somewhere where they would be dry. The oncoming wind blew a few drops of grease down [Y/N]’s hand. Instinctively, they licked the grease drops.

Officer Cabrera shook her head as she returned to the police car. She clicked the keys and popped open the trunk. “Here’s what I bought today. Clothes and toiletries. I except to see you here next Monday for that meeting I’m going to be setting up.” Her expression quickly changes from hard to a sweet smile. “Until then, [Y/N], keep Mr. Duck here out of trouble for me.” She winked.

Donald tugged at his collar and let out a nervous laugh. He quickly grabbed they few plastic store bags of items for [Y/N] out of the trunk. “What do you mean keep me out of trouble?”

“We’ll see you Monday, Mr. Duck.” Officer Cabrera slammed the trunk shut and crossed her arms.

“What’s going on?” [Y/N] watched Donald walk past.

Donald looked over his shoulder. “Are you coming?”

[Y/N] jogged after Donald. “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking you home.” Donald said nonchalantly. “And on Monday I’m starting the process.”

[Y/N] raised their eyebrows. “What process? I don’t like when you grown-ups talk in riddles. Riddles never helped anyone! I don’t have a home, so I don’t understand where you’re taking me.” They followed close behind Donald and wiped their hands on their shirt to get the crumbs from their pizza off their hands. “Officer Cabrera was supposed to take me somewhere today.”

Donald nodded. “And I changed those plans. You’re coming home with me. On Monday, I have to start–.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Did you just kidnap me?” [Y/N] asked.

“No.”

[Y/N] narrowed their eyes. “Surprise adoption? It’s like kidnapping but legal.”

Donald blinked. “Surprise adoption?”

[Y/N] fist bumped. “Yes! I knew it! I knew it! I knew it! Look out world, [Y/N] has a new home! And a new life!” They laughed. The laughed died out and [Y/N] sunk into their thoughts. They looked across the street at a mother and her two children. The children were like two peas in a pod. They then noticed a mother and a father and their two children getting along. [Y/N] shook their head and tried to focus on walking. But they couldn’t just walk. They thought about Donald’s three boys and if they would all get along. Their hands felt clammy, and they began to feel sick about the whole thing. What if because they were new, the boys didn’t like them? What if the boys just didn’t like them because they were causing trouble or because they were formerly homeless? What if? What if? What if?

“Gah!” [Y/N] threw their hands in the air. “What if they hate me?” They blurted out.

“Who?” Donald asked.

They forgot he was here… “Your boys! What if they hate me for being new? Or because I was causing trouble? Do they even know about me causing all that trouble? Do they even know that you’re bringing me home? I don’t want them to hate me for all that.” [Y/N] inhaled deeply. “I got so caught in you taking me with you that I didn’t even think about them.”

Donald stopped walking and turned to face [Y/N], who walked into him. “They won’t hate you. I’m sure they’ll just teach you new ways to cause trouble–that’s all they do.”

[Y/N] looked up and Donald and balled their fists. “Okay! Let’s go.”

“I’m surprised you understand me.” Donald said.

“Huh?” [Y/N] looked over at him.

Donald sighed. “I’m surprised you understand me.”

“What, with the talking thing? I understand you perfectly fine. Your voice sounds a little rough and earsplitting, but I can understand you fine.” [Y/N] ran up the boat ramp. “Is this boat magic? It looks so small from here. I bet it’s bigger on the inside, isn’t it?”

“That’s what the boys tell me.” Donald chuckled. He set [Y/N]’s bags down next to the door and pulled out his keys. He unlocked the door and turned on his heel to see that [Y/N] had grabbed their bags, ready to go downstairs. Donald led them down the stairs. “Are you alright sleeping on an air mattress tonight if I can’t get you a bed?”

“I’ll sleep on an air mattress forever. Which room?” [Y/N] started walking.

Donald pulled their bags out of their hands and walked towards the door intended for [Y/N]. [Y/N] pushed the door open and smiled at the room. A triple bunk tucked in one corner. Red was on the top, blue was in the middle, and green was on the bottom bunk. There was an air mattress just below the round window with bedsheets and pillows stacked high with an assortment of colors. The closet tucked away on the back wall as full and overflowing with blues. Next to the closet were three dressers. One was overflowing with greens and the other two were neat and nothing was spilling out. The floor was a disaster–toys and things and papers everywhere to the point they were swimming in stuff.

“Uncle Donald! We’re home.” One of the boys called.

“The far dresser is going to be yours.” Donald said.

[Y/N] dragged their bags toward the far dresser and pointed at it. “This one?” The set the bags of clothes and necessities down in front of the dresser and already began filling it haphazardly. “This is so cool.”

“Hey Uncle Donald, what’s going on?” Another one of the boys asked.

“Uncle Donald surprise adopted us a fourth sibling.” The third boy said. “I’m Dewey.”

[Y/N] paused in their tracks. “I’m [Y/N]. And you’re right, I was surprise adopted. I’m surprised!”

“These are my brothers, Huey, the red one and Louie, the green one.” Dewey introduced his siblings.

“Huey, Dewey, and Louie.” [Y/N] pointed at each triplet and listed who they were.

Donald stood in the doorway with his hand against his head. “It’s not really a surprise adoption.”