Ducktales Blog

sounds suspiciously like a proposal


This started as just two scribbles and ended up being a scrappy comic how did I even manage this.

“I love you,” Launchpad says, and he means it every time.

When he’s eleven he falls in love with Theo Robinson, the boy living down the street. Theo’s a year older and he has a discolored patch of feathers around his right eye, and even though he can do all the tricks on his bike that Launchpad is too clumsy to do, he thinks that Launchpad having a family of airshow pilots is “pretty wicked.”

Launchpad falls in love in the way children do, instantly and wholly, and without reservation.

He and Theo are at the park one day in summer, racing along the concrete paths cutting through the grass. Launchpad’s crashed his bike half a dozen times by now, and sports an impressive black eye, but the sun is shining and they’re both smiling and he thinks it’s the perfect moment to tell Theo how he feels.

In the perfect sunlight, he watches the smile slide off Theo’s face like it’s something diseased on his visage.

“That’s gross,” Theo bites out. He shoves Launchpad, who trips over his bike, knocking both it and himself to the ground. He falls backward in a tangle of limbs and handlebars, and scrapes his elbows and palms bloody.

When he looks up, it’s to see Theo’s receding figure, disappearing quickly on his bike.

Later, Launchpad will be forced to explain to his mother why he’s returned home in such a state. Birdie will clean the gravel out of her son’s cuts and hold a cold compress to his swollen eye and, unbeknownst to him, her heart will break over a son who loves too much for his own good.

“You have a big heart, sweetie,” Birdie will say, combing her fingers through his hair. “Anyone who doesn’t see that isn’t worth your time.”

But Launchpad finds that falling in love with someone is easier than falling out of it. 

It was a long flight back to Duckburg, and Gyro slept for most of it. 

He dreamt as he so often did of fire and pain, panic, betrayal. Kind, bright yellow eyes narrowing to pinpricks of red, his failure staring him full in the face. A child rising into the air, or what he thought was a child, his child, wreathed in smoke and sprays of rubble as it dispassionately dealt destruction and ruin. 

Gyro awoke with a start. The memory of 2-BO’s crumpled, sparking body followed him, lying in a crater on a torn-up street after Tezuka’s finishing blow. 

He took a deep, shuddering breath, coming to grips with his surroundings and the reality of the waking world. The plane rumbled around them, and outside the circular windows was an enigmatic night sky. Fenton was snoring beside Gyro, slumped against his shoulder over the armrest and Huey was leaning against Fenton, sleeping just as deeply. 

A small hand pressed itself against Gyro’s chest, nearly over his heart. 

“Are you okay?” came a quiet voice. 

He looked down into a pair of familiar yellow eyes. Only, not so familiar, the blue now standing out brightly against the yellow. 

Not moments after he’d slumped into one of the plane’s passenger seats, Boyd had climbed into his lap and promptly fallen asleep. And he had slept; his wasn’t the powering down of a simple computer. Gyro, too startled to do anything about the armful of child he found himself with, could feel the rise and fall of Boyd’s chest and see the minute twitches of expression as he slept. 

@sophfandoms53 you can't just mesh together two of my favourite things (Ducktales and Sonic -fandubs included-) and expect me not to draw it lol