#not duckfics

[duckfics]

Happy birthday, Huey, Dewey, and Louie!

Here are some dew-dles I never posted

[land-of-birds-and-comics]

so about four years ago i wanted to spend twelve years torturing scrooge (in a funny way, probably) about that one time donald disappeared. since it's just a series of vignettes i will try and see how far i get :) hopefully not in real time.

part 1:

Electricity crackles through the air, and then all Gyro can do is stare at the spot where Donald used to be. For just one millisecond, he thinks, he must have left a Donald-shaped vacuum behind. Now, there's nothing at all to prove he was ever there.

Gyro doesn't even flinch when the door is flung open. His mind is going a mile a minute, a minute a mile. Moving through time is nothing like moving through space.

"I've got you cornered!" Scrooge yells, and he yells it from the other side of an information gap so deep and wide that Gyro feels dizzy at the edge of it. "No excuses, Gyro! Where'd that boy run off to?!"

Donald is, of course, well and truly, gone. He's broken the laws of conservation of mass as we currently understand them, that's how gone he is. No one has ever been so fundamentally not here anymore. "He isn't anywhere," Gyro doesn't say. "I would tell you," he settles for, "if I had any idea."

Scrooge only snorts. "You should know better than to play innocent with me, Gyro." He begins to search the laboratory, dragging a frankly frightening wooden club behind him, his bill twitching from one hiding place to another like he's literally trying to sniff his debtor out. He regards the furnace with particular suspicion, winding up to put a dent in the thing.

"He's not here!" Gyro blurts out. That seems like a good enough start. Not the terrifying truth, not a placating lie. Scrooge freezes, shooting him a questioning look. He takes a deep breath. "He was here..."

"And then he snuck out the back, right?" Scrooge interrupts him. "And you’re not technically lying, because you don't know where he went from there." He fully faces Gyro for the first time, pointing the club in his face with a flourish. "I still consider that conspiring against your employer, you know."

Gyro blinks down at him.

"He took my time machine."

The tension leaves Scrooge's stance, taken aback by the confession. "He... stole it?"

"No, no..." Gyro shakes his head, then, helplessly, lets the gesture trail off to rub his temples. "He took a ride on it. He hopped on my unfinished, untested, unsafe prototype of a time machine to get away from you."

That impulsive idiot. Wasn't it always like this? Wasn't there always someone, and, more often than not, a certain someone, who wasn't capable of exercising basic caution and restraint when handling his inventions, and wasn't it always Gyro who was left to try to fix their mistakes?

This might have been the last time, Gyro thinks. He tries not to let the manifold consequences start unfolding in his mind.

"The cad," Scrooge spits. "Thinks he can just wait this one out. Thinks he can just lay low and go about his merry existence..."

Scrooge starts tapping his foot. "Time may heal all wounds, Gyro, but it won't get me my thirty million back." He stops. "Where is he now? Or when?"

It's almost impressive that Scrooge can stand right in front of him and be just as hard to reach as someone lost to the physical plane. "I told you, I don't know! All I know is that it was a one-way trip."

"We’ll have to go pick him up, then." He taps the side of the machine with the club. "Can’t we just-"

"No!" The thing is in Gyro's hands before he knows it, gripped by a hot rush of outrage. "There's no way to predict where it'll go! It doesn't have a control unit yet!" He clutches it to his chest. "There's no way to know where he went."

Gone, but not gone forever. Gone to the future, which is happening right now, moment by moment. Any one of them could be the one Donald reappears at. It could, of course, also happen to be the moment the sun expands and swallows us all.

Gyro slumps against the console. "He doesn't exist at all right now. He won't perceive his own non-existence- He'll just stumble into the Duckburg of the future-"

Scrooge gets a funny glint in his eye. "The future?"

"I- Yes. It can't go backwards in time, either."

"Then..." There's a pause. Scrooge looks at Gyro like he's just snapped out of a daydream. He snatches the club back, hoisting it over his shoulder, and adjusts his hat. "This is his chance at redemption."

Scrooge turns to leave, looking as pleased now as he looked furious when he entered. "Tell him to bring back anything potentially profitable. Advanced technology, promising stocks, consumer trends, that kind of thing. Then I'll welcome him back with open arms."

Gyro stumbles to his feet. "I can't tell him anything! I just told you, I can't-"

"Of course you can," Scrooge says, looking back one more time. "I'm not letting two golden opportunities slip through my fingers in one day." And with that, he closes the door behind him.

Gyro curses Scrooge, Donald and himself in equal measure. Then he rolls up his sleeves. This is far from the first time he's been asked to do the impossible.

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

part 2

[did-i-mention-the-shirt]

MARK BEAKS HAS BEEN ADDED TO DUCKFICS LETS GOOO

[peachonified]

Today is both posting day for BokuAkaExchange AND #AkaBoku day!

my gift for SpookyMoth featuring a (toppy and) overworked, Dr Akaashi Keiji, and a friendly voiced fireman, Bokuto Koutarou.

It's feels like it's been a hot minute since I played in hq universe... but here are too of my fave boys being stupid and cute.

Rated T, attempted humour, and pre AkaBoku

🔥🩺archiveofourown.org/works/46932952 🩺🔥

[peachhoneii]

Goldie visits the archives and finds an unsurprising guest.

Webby buries herself in her work where she finds her not-stepmom rummaging around. 

[relatablepicsofdarkwingduck]

i just had two days off, plenty of time for me to sit down and take some screenshots to put here

but then i didn’t

[coolgirl]

[imperiousphasmid]

Reminder now that S3 is out I’ll probably be doing a LOT of hanging out over at my duckblog if you wanna scream with me!!! :)

[duckfics]

“I would really appreciate it if you didn’t interrupt. I found you in that alley, I could easily put you back!"

- Louie, the romantic /s

[did-i-mention-the-shirt]

Its so embarrassing omg all my cool mutuals know I write Ducktales reader insert fan fic

[did-i-mention-the-shirt]

DUCKFICS READERS LISTEN UP

UPDATE POST ON WHAT'S HAPPENING WITH THE SERIES:

Duckfics update

[duckfics]

INTRO-DUCK-TION

(^I'm a comedian, I swear)

Welcome new and old readers to Duckfics! If you don't know what Duckfics is, it's a series of Ducktales x Reader stories I made about a year and a half ago but never finished, so here I am, rewriting them one triplet at a time.

The triplets are fifteen in these stories, they're SFW (Of course?) with minor swearing and likely some trauma lol. No use of Y/N. Gender-neutral pronouns. Always correct grammar (to the best of my abilities.)

My mistake of last time was writing what was essentially three or four books at once. Now, I'll be writing as you demand, and I've decided to start with Louie since he was the most popular last time.

You can find Duckfics 1.0 here.

And my main blog here.

As always, happy stanning!

[land-of-birds-and-comics]

so about four years ago i wanted to spend twelve years torturing scrooge (in a funny way, probably) about that one time donald disappeared. since it's just a series of vignettes i will try and see how far i get :) hopefully not in real time.

part 1 is here

part 3:

The triplets hesitate before knocking on the door to Gyro’s workshop. It still feels weird not to barge inside, charge straight at the shiniest inventions and make a mess of his workspace in the name of keeping him company, but it feels even weirder to think that they ever did that. That everyone used to do that!

He won’t put up with it anymore, anyway. The door’s locked. The sign says “IF URGENT, PLEASE KNOCK”. Nothing else for it.

It only takes a few moments for him to peek outside. “Boys,” comes the voice, muffled. “I don’t really need your help today. I’ll call you the second anything comes up, I promise.”

“It’s not that,” Huey says. “We just thought you might be lonely.”

Gyro has both hands on the door, hiding most of his body behind it. “Lonely? That’s what I have my little helper for, isn’t it?”

“We just feel bad that you’ve been…”

“...locked up in there for weeks…”

“...working all the time.”

It takes him a moment. “No, no. That’s… I just need to focus, that’s all.” He gives them a thumbs up and a desperate grin. “Not much longer now, though! I can feel the approach of a premonition of a breakthrough.” 

“We brought some cookies from Grandma,” Huey tries, raising the plastic container. “She said everyone needs to take a break sometimes.”

Gyro’s eyes look incredibly sad, which hadn't been the intended effect of the gift. Just as Huey starts to worry, he steps away, finally opening the door. “Alright, boys,” he says. “Come on in.”

The place is in complete chaos, which is comforting in its familiarity. Schematics are scattered across the floor and pinned to the walls, though they’re even more inscrutable than they usually are. If they depict any machines, the triplets can’t make heads or tails of them. Little Helper waves at them from the desk, in the middle of extending the bizarrely looping lines of discarded graphs into colourful abstract art with a set of crayons. 

Huey pushes Dewey up onto the workbench, then Dewey pulls them up behind him, and when they're all settled in, Louie pops the container open before holding out one of the cookies. “They’re white chocolate and cranberry,” he announces.

“Thank you, Louie.” Gyro reaches out to pick it up, then examines it for longer than it could really be all that interesting for. “Let Elvira know I’m… Well, just tell her thanks.”

Louie nods. Then he nods at his brothers. They all nod at each other in silence. They’re doing well, they think. This is a very adult conversation. 

Gyro plops down on his office chair, backwards. "This machine," he finally says, gesturing towards it with his cookie, "doesn't really manipulate time, you know. It manipulates matter, which means…"

He stalls in his explanation, lost in thought as he looks at the thing. "Do you know those little… pop-up toys made of rubber? You push them in and they store kinetic energy…"

Huey scoffs, holding his head up high. "You don't have to talk about toys, Gyro."

"Yeah! We know all about physics. We've got a dozen different badges in it."

"We can build a trebuchet, calculate the right angle for a zipline, and illustrate the difference between string and loop theory using a length of rope and some simple knots."

Gyro smirks, tapping the cookie against his beak. It crumbles all over the place. “I don’t mean to talk down to you. It’s just a good analogy.” He folds his arms over the back of the chair. “I don’t come up with those often, right? Let me have this.”

Huey nods. “Well, if it’ll make you feel better.”

"Thanks." He starts spinning the cookie between his fingers. “The universe is like that toy. Everything above the outer ring is the... physical world we can access. And that machine just… pushed your uncle in. He absolutely has to pop back up. We just don’t know when.”

It isn’t particularly new information, but talking these things through has helped him before. Some part of them can’t help anticipating that he’ll jump up and run to correct the sign on some value somewhere, shout “Eureka!” and set everything right again.

“I can control it now, by the way. The duration of the effect- Do you want to see me travel a minute into the future?”

“No!” the triplets shout, scrambling from the bench, crowding around Gyro before he does anything stupid. “Not at all!”

He awkwardly, almost defensively raises his arms. “It’s safe,” he says, quickly. “I’ve done it before! I had to know- The process is totally safe.”

They look up at him, more upset than they’d like to be. Dewey’s still tugging at the bottom of his jacket. Gyro realises that he’s dropped his cookie to the ground.

“But it’s, uh- It’s not that exciting to watch, anyway. Time just… passes.” He sighs deeply. “It just passes no matter what.”

They all draw away simultaneously, crossing their arms behind their backs. It’s one of those moments where they all know what the others are thinking, but they’re still waiting for one of them to act on it. Little Helper attempts to clear up the cookie-related debris with the world’s tiniest dustpan.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Dewey finally says. “Unca Donald always had some kind of button-pushing compulsion.” 

“Yeah! The less he’s supposed to do it, the more he wants to.”

“No force on earth that could stop him. And we’ve tried!”

Gyro slowly looks up at them. “A button...” His mouth hangs open with a word that never makes it out of there. Instead, all worry is suddenly wiped from the lower half of his face. It remains conspicuously present in the upper half. “Yes, certainly he did!” he exclaims, eyes shifting away from them. “Does! Certainly he does. That’s exactly what happened.” He taps a quick rhythm on his knee. “Can’t keep his hands off those buttons, that… that Donald Duck. Doesn’t even need a reason.”

The triplets regard each other with suspicion. Before they can say anything, Gyro pushes off of his chair, nearly gets one foot caught on it, and starts herding them towards the door.

“Listen- I should really get back to work- Give Grandma my best- And I promise it won’t be much longer, alright? The next time I call you, it’ll be good news. I promise I can fix this.”

“Well, sure,” Louie says, uncertain. “If anyone can do it-”

“No problem too big for a professional genius! None at all.” He almost pats Louie on the back, then seems to think better of it, shooing them off, instead. “Now run along and, uh, don't worry about a thing.” 

The ducklings flinch as the door slams shut. 

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

part 4

[did-i-mention-the-shirt]

Duckfics vague rant 4/?

I forgot the term, 'His face dropped' so I wrote

"Louies face fell off."

[land-of-birds-and-comics]

so about four years ago i wanted to spend twelve years torturing scrooge (and i'd like to say it's in a funny way, but i've actually made myself irreparably sentimental) about that one time donald disappeared. since it's just a series of vignettes i will try and see how far i get :) hopefully not in real time.

part 1 is here

part 5:

The phone rings…

—

Grandma asks the boys how they're doing, and they say they're fine. They say they've been accompanying their uncle on business trips. They say they're learning a lot about modern agriculture, even if it isn't anything good. Recently, they had to learn about squatter laws and the legal rights of the undead, too. They're receiving a highly diversified and practical education.

The four of them have a riveting conversation about topsoil and whether it might benefit from the presence of the howling spirits of the damned, at least in the sense of driving unsustainable farming operations away, and then they say good night, grandma, we love you, and she says good night, boys. I love you, too.

—

Gyro tells the boys about another prephysical, postphysical, extraphysical or superphysical phenomenon he's been researching every other week, expressing great distress over the fact that he started building his time machine before he fully understood it. Most of the words he uses have more syllables in them than there are people in the world who could explain them, but they listen to him, anyway.

The call is largely one-sided - Gyro doesn’t so much as pause to take a breath during which they could interrupt him - until he concludes, and they tell him to take care of himself, and he tells them that he’ll try.

—

More and more often, the boys ask Grandma what their uncle was like when he was their age, and what it was like to raise him, and she can only tell them that he was always going to be himself.

He was always there to help her when it counted, no matter how loudly he complained. It was easy for the other kids to make him angry, and it was easy for him to retaliate, but it was impossible to make him so angry that he wouldn’t come back for them. He could pick up any skill, but only if it interested him, and if it did, he seemed to have little ability to do anything else. He was just as adventurous as them, endlessly curious and heedless of the consequences.

He was her nephew, and her grandson, and… he was her boy, so he was perfect. Just like the three of them were always, at the end of the day, going to be perfect to him, and to her.

He was perfect to them, too, they say. 

—

For three months now, the phone has been ringing at five in the morning on the dot every single day, and lately, it’s been waking him up more often than not. Whenever he’s already awake for it, he thinks of the boys and feels vaguely guilty.

He can never get to sleep after the call, either. If he works through the night, he just sits at his desk, head in one hand, and rubs at his little helper’s head while he recharges.

—

The moment Grandma picks up, her attempt at a greeting is drowned out by three loud little voices, talking over each other in uncharacteristically uncoordinated outrage. He did it again, they say. What, she says. The thing, they say, the thing, the dumbest thing in the whole wide world that he could possibly do and does do on a regular basis because he’s the world’s dumbest duck.

It was like this, he had the forest, and the plans to tear it down, and the contract, of course! The conditions on which he wouldn’t do it. And he went behind their back to fill the conditions, and then he acted like they beat him. Who does that? And more than once? And why go to the trouble of something so stupidly expensive and complicated as importing endangered birds?

Well, she says, at least the forest was saved, but the kids won’t be soothed this time. He can’t keep doing this. He should know that they’re not stupid little babies anymore. They could do it all on their own. And he didn’t have to do it at all! What’s wrong with him? He must’ve agreed with them, so why didn’t he? 

They just want to talk to him. He never talks to them for real. 

—

Gyro has been steeling himself. He’s considered all possible responses: Bawling, yelling, silence. Worst of all, another endlessly kind and patient acknowledgement of the facts he, himself, still isn’t ready to acknowledge, and from people one third his age. He chokes on the words again and again, until, finally, he confesses that he’s started working on other projects on the side, just to keep the lights on.

The boys are shocked into silence on the other end of the line, but mostly because they had no idea that this hadn’t already been the case. He’s not sure what to say to that.

—

Did uncle Scrooge ever love uncle Donald? They’re just curious. They just miss him. They just need to know.

Elvira almost responds on autopilot, the same way anyone in their family would: Scrooge is just bad at connecting with people. Scrooge is just too prideful to admit it. Of course he does, and he always has, and he always will.

But she gets the sense that they’re really asking a different question. And she still wants to say it, and she wants to make up for what he won’t say, and she wants them to be a family, but then, there also has to be a limit. These boys do deserve better. Even Scrooge deserves better than to be coddled like this.

Scrooge certainly loved him when he needed him, she thinks, and then realises that this would be catastrophic to say. He loved him when he was there for him? He loved him when…

He loved him on the day before Christmas, when he was just ten years old. Donald had planned a snowball ambush that enraged his uncle until it escalated into an avalanche that almost impressed him, until he felt justified in fighting back at full force.

They came inside soaked and freezing and chattering and Scrooge, having forgotten all about the evils of federally mandated bank holidays, laughed out loud about how he’ll have to get bigger if he really wants to fight him, and he’ll have to get a whole lot smarter if he ever wants to beat him.

Donald said he could beat him at anything, and that one day, he could even be a better businessman than him, if he wanted to. And Scrooge clapped an arm around his shoulder in front of the fireplace and said that that’s great news. He always did want an heir.

And he loved him, then. She’s sure of it. She can’t be sure of anything else.

Uncle Donald always loved uncle Scrooge, they say. Not just on the day before Christmas.

And she says- Well, they were never perfect to each other. Maybe that’s the difference. They always wanted the other to change, and they never did, but they also never stopped wanting it. She’s not sure what to call that. 

The boys don’t say anything.

There’s love everywhere, she says. They’re never going to run out, not if they keep looking. That’s what matters. They just have to keep looking.

—

The phone rings…

[did-i-mention-the-shirt]

to the people (still very silently) demanding duckfics part 5:

theres duckfics part 5 :)