#lena mcduck au

[mighty-ant]

Shadow's Bane, Chapter 11

Chapter 10

Beneath fading camouflage paint and an itchy ghillie suit, Agent 87 lowered her binoculars and ducked back into the underbrush at the edge of the McDuck property. Her encampment was hidden beneath a haven of white fir trees, consisting of a tent covered in foliage and her survival pack, where food, water, weapons, and equipment were stored. 

Her setup was simple, precise, professional, with one exception: a little plush doll in a pink dress, the fabric faded and bearing numerous battle scars, evidence of a child’s clumsy needlework and the later improvements of an agent’s sturdy hand. The doll was a secret and weakness in one, dangerous evidence of sentimentality, but 87 couldn’t leave her back at base either. 

She stowed her binoculars before sitting down, stretching out muscles that had gone stiff and achy after the forced stillness of an additional hour-long monitoring session. She’d had a close call when her target finally arrived, a split second where she could’ve sworn Agent 22 spotted the shine of her binocular lenses all the way from the front door when an errant breeze shifted the tree branches she was crouched behind. 

87’s ineptitude could’ve easily blown her cover and ruined the entire operation. A thirteen year investment gone utterly to waste. She could already imagine the Doctor’s fury, the accusations ringing in her ears.

Pathetic

Foolish girl

Waste of a test tube 

Pain had little effect on Agent 87, but the Doctor knew that well enough. Her punishment would be metal talons wrapped around the back of her neck, forcing her to curl and contort her body into the trunk that followed them everywhere, every base the Doctor brought her to, as crucial as the rest of her lab equipment. The lid would seal and leave 87 in a darkness so complete she couldn’t see her own hands, couldn’t hear anything other than the rush of blood through her head, the rapid rasp of every hitching breath. Time vanished inside the trunk; the black abyss stretched and pressed in around her and she never knew if she was left alone for minutes or hours, if the Doctor would even remember to free her before she lost consciousness. 

87 shook her head violently, waved her hands out in front of her, just to remind herself she could. The trunk was far away from her now. She hadn’t compromised her mission. She hadn’t. 

The hood of her ghillie suit fell away, revealing her face in full, her white feathers stained by patches of fading camouflage paint. Her cheeks were rounded with youth, the short hair escaping her bun falling around her face in disarray. 

She pulled the laptop out of her pack, queuing up the various security camera feeds she had set up around the mansion’s perimeter under the cover of darkness on the first night of her stakeout. These feeds weren’t an adequate substitute for full observation techniques, but they would suffice for brief stretches. Long enough for her to stretch, hydrate, and get something in her stomach. 

87 could also use this as the perfect opportunity to update her field log. 

Pepper (Egghead Level 6) had been the one to give her the idea, though likely entirely by accident.

“You’re gonna be on stakeout for how long?” she’d demanded in that peppy, shrill way of hers. “Oh, I know mum’s the word for these super spy camping trips, but if you don’t talk to yourself or something, sweetie, you’re gonna go loopy!”

87 was immediately partial to the idea of keeping a log for herself, to monitor and track her progress as she advanced through the organization. This was her first solo mission, utterly official, no more training wheels, no backup. If she could record her thoughts and experiences as this operation progressed, she could go back and study them later, analyzing what she might have missed, where she might improve before her next mission. 

It took a bit of doing to hunt down a recording device that wasn’t already bugged; anything that could be used to contain incriminating information was understandably hard to come by in their line of work. 

Once fed and watered, 87 hit record on her device. She cleared her throat, speaking aloud for the first time that day. 

“This recording, and all eleven before it, are classified Level 5. If you are ranked below Level 5, stop listening now or risk termination, per Policy 8, subsection b.03 in your FOWL orientation manual,” she listed unenthusiastically, in the stilted tone that was intended for the legal record, should any agent above her discover her logs and demand she turn them in. 

“Operation: Hen House. Field log 12. August 10, 2017. Approximately 1100 hours Pacific Standard Time.” 87 let out a great, dramatic huff just as she hopped back to her feet and began another round of stretches. 

“Whew! Now that all the boring stuff is out of the way…The weather’s clear today, with only a few clouds on the horizon. It shouldn’t rain tonight, which means I’ll be able to sleep in my tent again and not up in a tree. I don’t mind the tree, really! She’s a very sturdy fir. But my tent is much more comfortable, when I won’t drown in mud by sleeping in it.” 

87’s breathless stream of consciousness ended when she knelt back at her laptop, pulling up footage from approximately an hour ago alongside the current live feeds. She queued up a few seconds to loop on repeat—specifically, that of her person of interest’s eagerly anticipated arrival, after twelve days of preparation. 

“Anyway,” she said, with a touch more composure. “My target, Lena Downey McDuck, adopted daughter of Scrooge McDuck, landed at Duckburg International Airport at approximately 0710 today. She entered McDuck Manor at precisely 0805, and currently only she and Agent 22 are in residence.”

After a brief glance at the live feeds, 87 focused on the loop of Lena McDuck on the manor’s front steps. The camera wasn’t in a good spot to capture the look on her face, but her shoulders were slumped and she did nothing to brush her long bangs out of her eyes. Then the door opened, and Agent 22 bent down to give her a hug, her severe expression cracking with a smile. 

Over the last twelve days, 87 had observed Agent 22 at every opportunity. To the untrained eye, the former director of SHUSH accomplished very little in her decade-old role as housekeeper; she merely did chores, all the million little things it took to run a household the size of McDuck’s. But 87 was trained to recognize threats hiding in plain sight, and she had never recognized a greater wolf in sheep’s clothing than Agent 22. 

Perimeter checks were disguised as nightly strolls or a need to water the garden. Every duster, vacuum, or soup ladle was wielded with deadly grace, as though they might be repurposed as weapons without a moment’s notice. 

87 didn’t even dare come within 100 meters of the mansion, petrified as she was at the thought of Agent 22 snapping her up and bolting her to an interrogation table. 87 wouldn’t break, and she knew it would be a long and painful process before Agent 22 understood that as well. So, to mitigate that risk, she moved her encampment somewhere new every night she could afford to. 

Agent 22 was surely everything the Doctor described and more, and 87 knew she should be afraid of her. And she was! But…she thought that Agent 22 had a very kind face, too. 

When she opened the door to Lena McDuck, her severe British countenance warmed in a way that almost fanciful, like something out of the films 87 had been allowed to view while researching for her role, full of fake happy families and fake happy endings, make-believe characters playacting in candy colored worlds where magic and chaos weren’t threats to be feared. Where little girls had parents and friends who fought and sacrificed for each other and loved each other. A world 87 had no context for. A world she hadn’t believed existed before that smile.

Anyway. 

The footage repeated from there.

“Today was my first time seeing the target in person. I’ve read her file cover to cover at least fifteen times, but I’m still not sure what to think.” Feeling unaccountably antsy, 87 stood back up and began familiar tai chi movements—Yang Style, as the stomping and kicks of Chen Style would defeat the purpose of a clandestine observation. 

She continued rambling, relishing in the freedom. The Doctor wasn’t here now to demand her silence.

“We know from readings taken eleven years ago that Lena McDuck was created from shadow magic, the same as the one we have on record belonging to the sorceress Magica De Spell. De Spell is classified as an Omega Level Threat, and is currently trapped in a pocket dimension inside Scrooge McDuck’s Number One Dime. An extension of Operation: Hen House is to secure the dime for FOWL. 

“But today when I scanned Lena McDuck, she had almost no magical signature to speak of, which should be impossible for a creature made of the stuff! I guess it’s possible that she has perfect control of her magic, and uses this control to hide her magic signature just like the witch Morgana Macawber. A more likely explanation is that she hasn’t used her magic at all in the last thirteen years, and it's gone dormant. I recommend consulting the Phantom Blot once he’s been given clearance for the target’s true origins.”

87 stopped to consider the looping footage again, scrutinizing her target’s body language the same way she would an armed assailant. 

She knew everything about Lena McDuck the target, but had so little information on Lena McDuck the person. Her social media presence was negligible, and she associated with no known parties. A few Eggheads had even been placed to monitor her schools, and still she did little of note other than get expelled from said schools, all without the media frenzy most rich heiresses would generate. She was unlike any of the wealthy elites 87 had studied in preparation of her undercover work, and even less like a young Scrooge McDuck, whose own ambition had seemed limitless. 

“Lena may be rebellious, and a trouble-maker, but I’ve noticed that more than once, according to her school reports, her acts of rebellion are usually to help someone else. She seems to have more of an altruistic side than McDuck ever did. Maybe the lack of adventure warping her perception of reality is the answer?” 87 wondered aloud. The Director did always say that McDuck was deluding himself, playing God. “Either way, it might be useful to know for when I make contact.” 

Make contact. Her real assignment, not this child’s idea of spycraft, hiding in the bushes with binoculars and calling it a day. Or twelve.

87 closed her eyes and took a breath, as the warrior monks of Tra La la taught her, allowing her surroundings to wash over her. Larks tittered overhead and a breeze sent the leaves in the treetops shivering against each other in gentle susurration. Killmotor Hill was worlds away from the rest of Duckburg, but even on high one couldn’t escape the distant honk of cars in traffic or the bleating of boat horns in the marina even further away. 

This was the world she would help protect. The real world. And she was but a cog in the complex machinations of FOWL, making that happen. 

“This is Agent 87. End of log 12,” she said, before opening her eyes again and taking in her modest campsite. It might've been meager, but the solitude was a welcome relief. 

She stopped the recording, and stowed the device in her pack. 

Returning to her laptop, 87 pulled the live feeds up in full, prepared for another long day and a longer night of continued surveillance.

Agent 22 was the territorial sort, and unlikely to leave the mansion for at least twenty-four hours now that her charge was in residence. McDuck kept long hours, leaving in the early morning and returning in the late night, but his activities were closely monitored by the Director and were of little relevance to her assignment. 

As a matter of principle, she still listened in on all the calls coming in and out of the mansion (she tapped the phone lines on day 3), but both McDuck and Agent 22 spoke little and made fewer calls. The driver was a lot more fun, with his earnest friendliness hiding no great secrets, and his boxer’s strength making 87 itch for a real spar and not just the same boring solo drills. She almost would’ve preferred to follow him around, but he was marked ‘inconsequential’ on the mission report. 

Anyway, she only had a few more days of surveillance to complete. After that, the next phase of her assignment would begin. A house was already being secured for her in town, and once she moved in they would craft her backstory and prepare for the start of the school year. There, 87 would meet and befriend Lena, infiltrate the McDuck family, and ensure they didn’t meddle with the Director’s vision for a better, safer world. 

But then, even the most foolproof plan wasn’t McDuck-proof. 87 had been taught this, but she would learn it the hard way.

Something triggered one of her motion-detectors on the western side of the mansion, where most of the occupied bedrooms were located. Cursing her distraction, 87 cycled through all her security feeds. Had someone slipped past her? One of McDuck’s many, many enemies? Since he stopped adventuring there’d been little activity from anyone other than Flintheart Glomgold or the Beagle Boys, petty and shortsighted criminals who Agent 22 took down easily. It would make 87 the biggest failure of them all if she missed their infiltration, and if her distraction cost them this operation…

Finally, she found the feed that her alarms were crowing over, but she didn’t understand what she was looking at. Not at first. 

Lena McDuck was climbing out of her bedroom window and into the topmost branches of the tall tree just within reaching distance. She had the same duffel bag she arrived with slung over her shoulder. The camera followed her progress until she jumped down from the last branch and disappeared out of frame. 

Cold, horrified realization had 87 lunging for the burner phone in her pack. A single button and a verbal passcode later, the Doctor’s cultured, snappish voice greeted her. 

“What is it?”

Despite the situation, 87 felt the barest surge of relief that her creator answered her at all. 

“Doctor Heron,” she reported as briskly as she could, carefully keeping the panic out of her voice. “The target, Lena McDuck, is fleeing the premises! I think she’s running away.”

The Doctor’s retort was a whip crack. “Then you had better be following her, if you know what’s good for you!”

“I should continue surveillance on foot?” 87 tried to clarify. 

 “No, you idiot!” the Doctor snarled. With no one to bear witness to her weakness, 87 ducked her head in an instinctive flinch. “Stop her from leaving the city! Operation: Hen House will only succeed if the creature stays with Scrooge, where we can keep an eye on her. He’s only just stopped one fruitless search and we don’t need him to waste FOWL resources on another. We’ll simply have to move up our timetable. You will intercept her now . Do whatever you have to to keep her from leaving the city.”

87 was up and running before the Doctor even finished issuing the order. No time to stop at the home FOWL acquired as part of her cover, where a closet full of outfits for a normal little girl awaited her. First to uncover where her target was headed. Then, acquire a disguise. Fatigues and a ghillie suit weren’t going to cut it, but something was better than nothing, even if she had to pull it out of the garbage. 

Operation: Hen House would be a success. Agent 87 was going to become the best friend Lena McDuck ever had. 

—

Thirty minutes. 

Thirty minutes and she would be home free. 

Lena wasn’t anxious by nature, but sitting on that bench, willing the massive gold clock above the information booth to reach 2:30, she’d never felt her heart race harder. 

Her eyes darted back and forth behind the fringe of her hair, on the lookout for a purple cardigan and no-nonsense gray bun, or maybe a brown bomber jacket and red hair. She doubted her dad would come looking, but he’d send his employees out in a heartbeat. Him calling the police was also unlikely. He didn’t trust them, and the press even less; the last thing he would want was to turn her escapade into a media frenzy. 

Still, Lena tried to keep a wary eye on the few cops patrolling the station, but it was doubly hard when she was sitting in the middle of a chaotic rush hour. 

The bus station was a circus and a half and not just because it was packed with travelers of every shape and size. The building itself was a grand, glass and wood panel cathedral to Duckburg’s robust public transit system. It looked old-fashioned, in the way a lot of old downtown Duckburg did. Turn of the century, her dad would’ve called it. She could imagine him standing under that same gold clock a hundred years ago, when it used to be a train station. There might even be an ancient black and white photo of exactly that displayed in a museum somewhere. 

Lena scowled. As if she needed the reminder right now. 

She just counted her blessings that as loud and horribly busy as the station was, it meant she was utterly unnoticeable. She was even almost grateful for her dad keeping her as far away from him as physically possible the last four years, making it impossible for the masses to recognize her at a glance the way they did him. 

This plan had been in the back of her mind for a few months now. Even before the frog incident at Tremaine’s. Students were allowed to work on campus, so she got a job at the bookstore. At her last school, she worked in the dish room. If anyone raised an eyebrow at the idea of the Richest Duck in the World’s kid applying for a menial job, well, she was just trying to start her fortune the honest way, just like her old man. 

She worked and she saved and it paid off in the form of a ticket gripped in her sweaty palm, a one-way trip to Cape Suzette. It was a five and a half hour drive to the city on the edge of the world, the city of sea planes, and from there she could go anywhere she wanted. Only four years away from eighteen, she was practically an adult, and the laws in Cape Suzette still allowed kids as young as twelve to become navigators. She’d get the life of adventure Dad promised and never delivered on. 

Almost her whole life, everywhere she went, was defined by whose daughter she was. Scrooge McDuck. Legend, explorer, has-been. Who was she, compared to that? Little Lena, who wasn’t all that bright, couldn’t make friends to save her life, and was so, so angry all the time. 

Did it help or hurt that she’d never learn who little Lena was supposed to be? Going on some Lifetime movie quest to find her birth parents wasn’t even an option because for all intents and purposes, they didn’t exist. Dad found her, abandoned as a baby, and took her home. Oh, he’d couched it in sweeter words than that when she was five and asked what “adopted” meant, crooning, and there you were, my bonnie wee lass, sprung out of the ground like a daisy! 

Before the cracks between them tore open into a chasm, and Lena was old enough to understand that Mrs. B wasn’t playacting at the whole secret agent thing, she asked her who her parents were, because Mrs. B knew everything. Everything but this one thing, it would turn out. Lena Downey McDuck was all she’d ever be. 

But maybe it wouldn’t have all been so bad if she wasn’t so alone . Duckworth was there one day and then dead the next, and she’d barely gotten to know Mrs. B before Dad was shipping her out of the state. She grew up in cold, distant halls with girls who were either too scared of who her father was to talk to her, or took it as a challenge to make her life as miserable as possible. 

What would it take to make her dad finally see her? 

Her visits back home dwindled over the years, spending longer summers at whatever school hadn’t kicked her out yet, fewer birthday candles blown out under the watchful gaze of her grandparents’ portrait. Christmas was the only reliable constant now, sometimes coinciding with Hanukkah, which meant more time with Launchpad, who never visited his family during the holidays and Lena knew better than to ask about. 

Christmas was the one time a year her dad would unwind. They’d set up Santa traps just like they used to when she was little, sneak cookies before dinner from under Mrs. B’s nose, watch that terrible Christmas movie from the ‘30s that both her dad and Mrs. B insisted was a classic, and at the end of the night they’d pass out on the couch with bats and Byzantine swords in their hands in case Santa tried to be extra sneaky that year. 

But then her dad would be back in the office by Boxing Day and it would be like nothing had changed. Lena, always second to business, to making the richest duck even richer. 

In the week leading up to her flight, she made her decision. If he was waiting for her at the airport, like he said he would, she would stay. If he wasn’t…maybe she’d have better luck on her own. Completely on her own. 

Lena glanced back at the clock, a flare of hope making her sit up on her bench in the furthest corner of the station. 

2:05

Still twenty-five minutes to go.

She dropped her head onto the back of the bench and groaned. Frustratingly enough, she couldn’t even pull out her phone to district herself into making time go faster. She couldn’t rule out the possibility that Mrs. B had some way to track it, even if she didn’t answer any calls or texts, and she wasn’t about to risk giving herself away. Mrs. B had to have found her note by now, reminded Dad that he had a daughter who was now in the process of fleeing the state, and let loose some sort of search party. 

Just twenty-five more minutes until she left Duckburg, by choice for once. 

Lena just had to resign herself to people watching until then, warily keeping an eye out for anyone who might look like they’re searching for the runaway daughter of the Richest Duck in the World. 

There was constant movement in the station, with small pockets of stillness by those sitting on benches like herself or standing still against the tide. There were businesspeople, families, and college students weighed down by luggage, all in a rush to get to their destination. 

Lena idly watched a girl around her age walk past. She was dressed sloppily, in a gray hoodie that was at least two sizes too big, and her hair looked like she’d slept headfirst in a bush. The dark circles under her eyes rivaled Lena’s, though she was bright and alert despite that as she scanned the station around her. To Lena, it didn’t look like she was admiring the architecture but rather as if she was looking for someone. 

The backpack she was carrying wouldn’t have looked out of place on some reality show for survival nuts, huge and utilitarian and practically bursting at the seams. But dangling innocuously from one of the mesh side pockets was a little plush duck in a pink dress.

As the girl whirled around in her continued search of her mystery someone, Lena watched the doll come loose and fall to the floor. The girl didn’t notice. No one else around Lena seemed to either, or if they noticed they just didn’t care. 

The girl made an anxious sort of hopping motion, biting her lower beak, before she turned around entirely, and started to walk away. Accidentally leaving the doll behind. 

Lena hadn’t lost sight of her before she groaned and jumped to her feet, dragging her duffel bag with her. She plucked the doll off the ground and hurried after the girl. 

“Hey! Hey, you—” She shoved past a few strangers, her duffel serving as a handy battering ram. The girl’s monstrous backpack was right in front of her. 

Lena reached out, tapping her on the shoulder. 

The girl jumped, but luckily didn’t scream or anything as she turned around with a wide-eyed expression. It quickly exploded into a grin when she saw what Lena was carrying. 

“Hey, sorry, I saw you dropped—” Lena said unnecessarily. 

“My Quacky Patch doll!” the girl gushed, taking the plush back gratefully. “Oh my gosh, thank you so much! I really don’t know what I’d do without her. I’ve had her since I was little!”

Lena shrugged, feeling a little warm under her feathers at the effusive praise. “No prob. You looked like you were in a hurry, and I didn’t want you leaving little miss pink behind.”

Oh, yeah, I never would’ve noticed! And I’ll have you know, her name’s Mallory McMallard, and she fights organized crime,” the girl said primly, carefully tucking the doll into one of the many zippers that covered her bag. 

Lena snorted without really meaning to. “Oh yeah?”

It was the girls turn to shrug, smiling helplessly. “I did say that I got her when I was little.” She stuck out her hand between them. “Thank you, again! You’re the first person I’ve met in Duckburg, and you’ve given me a great impression of the city so far.”

Lena stepped back a bit, discomfort tightening in her stomach. “Oh, uh, I wouldn’t know about that. I’m actually planning to leave as soon as possible.

The girl’s cheery expression dropped. Lena felt a weird pang of…something. Most new people she met were glad to see her go. “Oh. I'm sorry to hear that. Well…it was still nice to meet you…?”

Ugh, she was being rude wasn’t she? At least Duckworth would never have to know that all his etiquette training had been wasted on her. “Oh, I’m, uh, I’m Lena.”

The girl stuck out her hand again, aggressively chipper. “Hi, I’m Webby!”

[kinuhanino]

I made an au back in early 2023 where Webby and Violet gets transported to a Pirate AU

i wouldve written a fic for it but i cant write long fics unfortunately

[eepyism]

if eated soapno ididnt

any way ess this is an au inspired by stardew valley and the result of a lot of pepsi

[nonexistentbees]

+ a bunch of miscellaneous doodles and thoughts abt my new thing that lives in my brain forever now. the vibe is mickey donald goofy three musketeers in terms of accuracy there can be mcdonalds if its funny enough

[bootay-hole]

BOO tale of the cyclone jumpscare

[skelettflickan]

Woo-oo!

Rewatching the Ducktales reboot and wishing it wasn’t canceled. 

[shadowjinx626]

Happy Halloween with the Age Change Au!!!

[ducktoonsfanart]

Superhero Ducks - Ducktales 2017 - Ducktales AU

Yes, I'm late, but I dedicated this drawing to my follower, whose birthday was last week, and I did it on the theme of superheroes, that is, Justice Ducks, but in the Ducktales reboot way.

Yes, even though I prefer superheroes from comics, OG Ducktales, Darkwing Duck and others, I still tried it out to see how it would look in Ducktales 2017, but I drew it my way, in my style. I drew Duck Avenger (Paperinik), She Venger (Super Daisy-Paperinika), Darkwing Duck (Drake Mallard), Gizmoduck, Masked Top Hat (Scrooge McDuck), Clover Leaf (Gladstone Gander), Red Bat (Fethry Duck) and of course Launchpad McQuack who is not in a superhero suit. I also added Della Duck as Aviator or Rocketquack, Webby Vanderquack as Pink Vanderquack, Lena De Spell (Sabrewing) as Raven, Gosalyn Mallard as Quiverwing Quack, Huey as Huebot (Red Gizmoduck), Dewey as Blue Darkwing, Louie as Paperinik Junior and Gandra Dee as Gizmo-Gandra.

I hope you like this drawing and yes I drew based on the design by @lara-prism-light and @boingodigitalart, to whom I am grateful for such designs and such ideas. And I added some ideas of my own. Of course, this gift goes to @alexcanine, whose birthday was last week, and I wish you all the best and I hope you like this gift. Happy late birthday! And just one piece of advice, please learn to draw properly. Overall, I hope you like this.

[inamindfarfaraway]

I rewatched “The Richest Duck in the World!” and noticed something new. It’s only a theory, but it could easily be true, and… oh my God.

Bradford Buzzard has been working with Scrooge for about two decades or more by this episode, right? He's the CEO of McDuck Enterprises. He can overule Scrooge on business decisions and has access to and knowledge of everything, including Falcon Island, the portion of money afforded to it and that it's used for magical defence. Scrooge took the time to remove that island from all maps because he was so desperate for nobody to ever be able to meddle there. This is as top-secret as it gets. But Bradford knows. Scrooge trusts him implicitly with ALL his money. That's a lot of trust!

So Bradford almost certainly knows about the Bombie. It's hard to imagine a conversation where Scrooge told him about Falcon Island and what resources it needed without telling him why it needed them; and never before this episode has the Bombie been released due to financial strain. Not even in Scrooge and his finances' lowest point, when he was blowing through savings to search for Della, resorting to draining the Money Bin, his personal store of sentimentally valuable coins. Not even with Bradford wanting more of McDuck Enterprises' money available so he can siphon it off for FOWL. There was always, always something less important than Falcon Island.

But then Louie - an inexperienced, physically weak and unskilled eleven-year-old - becomes the richest person on Earth. On his very first morning in this position, he has to compensate for his wasteful spending by taking money from the company and Bradford immediately suggests cutting funding to the Bombie's containment measures. That is the first thing he comes up with. And he agrees to it unhesitatingly without a word of warning. This is why the entire plot of the episode happens!

Even more dammingly, he has a button specifically to deactivate the magical security system on hand at that moment. Without it, the Bombie escapes in an instant. But how did such a button come to exist in the first place? Scrooge would never have asked for it. Nobody else knew anything about Falcon Island. Bradford must have made it and connected it to that magic himself. He saw that Louie was vulnerable and wasted no time engineering his fall, unleashing a lethal threat upon him that was, as far as anyone knew, absolutely unstoppable, yet in a manner indirect enough to deflect suspicion from him.

Bradford tried to murder Louie.

[ducksinspaceadventure]

I wish everyone a happy New Year 2024 with lots of happiness and health! And thank you so much for making me happy last year. I hope to devote myself more to space adventures this year and of course our ducks can finally reach their destinations. Happy New Year! 😄

[mrgladstonegander]

my heart wants to make an ace attorney/ ducktales au but theres so much to consider. are hdlw the silly dudes beside the lawyer? are they there all at once? is scrooge the lawyer? is donald a lawyer? is della part of a 7-10 yr old mystery that needs to be solved to solve the present day murder?

[mighty-ant]

A time skip, ooh la la!

[chillaxzmadudesz]

Here is Webbigail Vanderquack/ McDuck or sth.

Still kinda confused about her uhm name

maybe i just had a bad day yesterday so this looks... uh... the others look better

in other words its kinda crappy

maybe its because i didnt use a pencil

[eepyism]

WOO ok so i had to redesign them bc idk some3thing told me to!!!! weblena wolfwalers au is alive!! also working on a webby time travel au bc yes

[gummygoatgalaxy]

New AU

Its about Webby growing up with FOWL and because of that, Aelius was kept as a prisoner in FOWL Headquarters cuz of her dragon dna, Libby was never adopted and grew up as an embodiment of darkness and Lena was never released from Magica's hold

[citricconnor]

Hi! Decided to post some nega!au designs i did:

First off, nega!Gyro's and nega!Fenton's designs, i drew them first because they're my favorite characters, so they're the ones i have most figured out about yet.

Also i don't have much to say about them for now, what's important is kind of already on the pics, nega!Gyro is still a scientist and nega!Fenton is still an intern and hero villain!

Here's nega!Gandra! I really liked drawing her and even tho i'm not too sure about how i characterized her i still liked the result.

I'd say that she's working a corporate job at Waddle or something, and even though she doesnt hate it she still wishes she was doing something more important. I'm thinking of giving her a villain arc...

Then here's nega!Webby and nega!Lena ! Designing Lena was hard but i ended up really liking the result.

Weblena just kind of switched vibes with each other, nega!Lena is dorky and very naive, and nega!Webby is more like an angsty teen that's kind of annoying, i still don't know if her hyperfixation on the McDuck family stays in this au or not.

I don't have a story yet and i still want to develop these designs more, especially Webby, i feel like she's not edgy enough.