#make ryn write

(I’ll do you one better, anon. How about FATHER/DAUGHTER BONDING)

(as always, I’m open to requests for more, or just requests in general)

“You ready?” He asks her, not even sure of his own answer as he bends to fix her hair and press a kiss to her cheek.

Gosalyn squirms away from his fussing, grabbing his hand to keep it still, “Of course I’m ready! It’s not like I’m worried they’ll say no, or anything.” She smiles back with the same nervousness as him, “They won’t. Right?”

Drake gives a smile right back, shifting his bag full of papers from one shoulder to the other so he can pull her into a hug, heart beating out of his chest as he hears a clearing of the throat from beside them. He looks to find the guardian ad-litem gesturing for them to enter the courtroom. Gosalyn holds him even tighter, and he takes a deep breath as they walk forward together into the most important moment of their lives. 

He wishes he could say the woman that sat in the Judges’ seat looked friendly and sympathetic. He would be lying. The judge looked just as scary and all-powerful as those he saw in his drama shows, sitting stiffly with glasses perched upon her beak as he was ushered to hand over his documentation he’d brought with him. Then, he was sat at the counsel table with a glass of water. Gosalyn sat at the table across the walkway from him, the guardian in the attorney’s seat beside her.

There was silence for a few minutes as the judge read over all of the documents, and Drake made note of every time she seemed to pause and take note of something she was reading.

Would his income be enough? Did she think Gosalyn would be happy with him? Would she deny him based on the sole factor of being a single parent?

“Drake Mallard.” She eventually spoke, causing him to jump and cough around the sip of water he had just taken. He stood, wincing as the chair scraped awkwardly against the ground and he came to stand beside the table.

“Yes?”

“I see here you are looking to adopt nine-year-old Gosalyn Waddlemeyer. May I ask why?” She peers down at him from the judges’ seat, and his eyes flit over to Gosalyn before going back to her.

“Well...I met her one day while I was out, and she just stuck with me. She was energetic and rambunctious, and the smartest little girl I’d ever met. And she needed a family, and I...I wanted to give her one. Maybe not a big one, but anything’s better than nothing.” Drake inwardly cringed at himself, hands clasped together tight enough to turn his fingers slightly red.

“...Uh-huh. And you swear that you will care for her to the best of your ability?” The judge questioned, one eyebrow raised as he looked between him and Gosalyn. 

“I swear.” He said in a rush, heart swelling with hope as he began to grin, “I just want to give her a home.”

He could hear sniffling behind him, and he turned to see Gosalyn rubbing her eyes and the guardian rubbing her back comfortingly. The judge gave a soft frown, gesturing for them both to come stand, “Miss Beltsville, is Miss Waddlemeyer alright?”

“I believe so, Judge. Just a little overwhelmed.” The guardian gave a tight smile, leaning down to whisper to Gos. Drake’s heart plummeted. Was she rethinking things? Was she sad that he wanted her, and not some nicer family with a big house and tons of siblings to play around with?

“Come join me up here, Gosalyn.” The judge soothes, scooting her chair back slightly. He watches as Gos shuffles her way, hesitant, up to the judge’s seat, and then looking down at him with a smile that could blind anyone. The judge hoists Gosalyn into her lap, which Drake sighs at- she wasn’t the touchy-feely type, he knew, and she was already looking uncomfortable.

“Tell me, Gosalyn. Would you like to be Mr. Mallard’s daughter?” The judge asks her, and Gosalyn immediately nods.

“More than anything.”

“And you want him to be your dad? You’re okay with it just being you two?” The judge asks, looking at the guardian when Gosalyn hesitates, and Drake’s throat closes in anxiousness.

“Well...a mom and dad would be nice. But, he’s really sweet and I like him a lot more than the children's home director.” Gosalyn explains, “And it used to be just me and my grandpa, so it’s not that different, really.” She gives Drake another smile, this one small and tentative.

“That sounds very nice. Do you have a nice room in Mr. Mallard’s house?” She asks, to which Gosalyn visibly brightens.

“Yeah! It’s got all these cool posters and wallpaper, and I’ve got new skates and a hockey stick to practice with-” She rambles on for a while, the judge looking more and more amused.

“That’s wonderful, dear.” She sets Gosalyn down from the chair, nudging her gently towards Drake, “Why don’t you go stand with the others as I get this sorted out?”

She races down the stairs and to his side, and Drake’s hand finds hers quickly, both of them squeezing the other’s hand tightly, unwilling to let go as the judge picks up her pen and uncaps it.

“By my honor as a judge of the city of Saint Canard, I now declare you, Gosalyn Mallard, legal daughter of Mister Drake Mallard.” Her pen gives one last sweep before she smiles and stamps it with her seal.

Drake’s ears fill with the sound of Gosalyn squealing and his arms are suddenly full of her. His daughter. He was hugging his daughter.

His eyes fill with relieved tears as he falls to kneel at her height, scooping Gosalyn into his arms and squeezing her tighter, laughing in relief.

Gosalyn sighs out, trembling as she buries her face in the juncture between his shoulder and neck, “Hey, Dad?”

And oh, his heart soars at that. He lets out a chuckling sob, wiping his eyes clear as he pets the back of her hair. He realizes all at once that he’d be able to do her hair every morning now, just as he had done that morning. Well, every morning she let him.

“Yes, Gosalyn?”

She pulls back to look at him, her eyes shining with tears even as she grins cheekily, “Can we go get ice cream to celebrate?”

Even the judge laughs, as Drake stands and rolls his eyes playfully, “Of course we can. All the ice cream you want.”

(*cries* Donald, sweetie, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry these people want me to make you suffer so much. Oh my god)

#80 “I know you don’t care, you don’t have to pretend” Donald returning from the Moon (ANGST)

Ten years.

That’s how long Della spent trying to get back to her family, to her boys, to Scrooge…

To Donald.

It was a few days before Della went to go get the rebuilt Spear, to show Scrooge and her boys exactly how she had made it back to them. When all they found was an empty field, that pulling feeling in her gut had her looking over the kids’ heads at Uncle Scrooge. A look passed between them: no, it couldn’t be.

Calls were made, and they found out that he had never even boarded the cruise ship. That’s when the panic set in, and she began a frantic attempt to build a new rocket, to get to her brother.

Please, she pleaded, I just got my family back, please, please.

The gods loved to laugh in their faces. Her brother always did have the most rotten luck.

She didn’t even make it halfway through the mainframe before the invasion started. It wasn’t big, obviously, only a dozen or so ships since they had barely a month to pull it all together. Her whole extended family (when had they added a sentient statue and lightbulb to the mix?) fought beside her, and once Lunaris was captured and the people understood what had happened, it went silent.

Dead silent.

The crowds began to part from where she was pressing a foot into Lunaris’ neck, trying to force him to tell her where her brother was, and then he appeared.

Penny was with him, both carrying weapons and holding onto wounds that looked serious enough to make even Della worry about their severity. Her eyes filled with tears and she ran to her brother, beat by the boys barreling into him too fast and hard for it not to hurt. She hesitated around the edge of the group, Scrooge coming to rest beside her as the last of Lunaris’ group were rounded up and taken by jokingly official looking men in long black cars.

“Donald…” She reached for him once the boys backed away to talk to Penny, excited to meet a Moonlander they could trust and wasn’t trying to kill them.

Her brother looked up at her, his smile grim and relieved, “Hey, Del..” He swayed, face paling and eyes rolling into the back of his head, Scrooge reacting faster than her to catch him as he passed out.

Three days. He was unconscious for three days.

In that time, Della and her family had been harassed by the media, government officials had tried to arrest and detain Penny (over her dead body!) and the boys had all asked her at least once if their Uncle Donald was gonna die.

She’d been in his room, doing her best to clean his wounds and keep him comfortable when a hand found hers and squeezed tightly. Her eyes flew up to look into Donald’s tired ones, and then she couldn’t see anything, because she was crying too hard to worry about seeing anything.

He sighed, other hand coming up to touch to his face where a bandage was covering one half of his own sight and frowned.

“…The Moonlanders?” He croaked out, trying his best to speak without it hurting. She sniffled and got him the glass of water beside his bed, helping her twin to take small sips and sit up.

“Baldy and his followers are, uh, in federal prison. They’re going to hold a trial.” She muttered, just staring at him in awe. With the wounds covered and his feathers cleaned of grime and blood, she could see just how old he’d gotten. Molting was usually saved for someone in their late fifties, not barely-thirties. Lines creased his face and he looked weaker than she’d ever seen him.

“Penumbra?” Came the quiet question, his body releasing tension when Della smiled and shook her head, “Safe. Pardoned for her help in taking down ships and taking all the people in Duckburg to safety.”

Silence fell over them, and then they both took a deep breath at the same time.

“I just-”

“You can-”

They stared at each other, before chuckling awkwardly, and Donald gestured for her to go ahead. Della took a deep breath, shuddering slightly before looking her twin in the eye.

“I’m sorry. For everything. I should have listened to you, I shouldn’t have gone. I should have been home faster, and we…I should have looked for you as soon as I came home-”

“Don’t.” The cut off made her frown and squeeze his hand tighter, while Donald just looked away, shaking his head, “Don’t apologize. Not to me.” His gaze hardened and he glared weakly, “Go to your kids. They need you more than I do.”

Her eyes widened in shock, and she shook her head, “What? Donald, you’re my brother! I’m not going anywhere!”

“Well, you’re ten years too late for that line, aren’t you?!” His whole body was tense, and the one eye she could see was squinted and filled with tears that he was desperately trying to hold back.

Della placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently, “Don, I’m so sorry, I-”

“I know you don’t care, you don’t have to pretend.” He shook the hand off, looking away from her, “I’m done talking. Get out.”

She sat there, frozen in shock for a few seconds. Donald kept his face turned away from her, not moving at all save for clenching his fist in his lap.

Della stood carefully, fixing her scarf before pulling it off and setting it on the chair, “Feel better, Donald. I’ll see you soon.” She muttered, before slipping out of the room just as a sob broke out from behind her.

She waited for ten years to see her family. And now she didn’t know if they would ever be okay again.

(*stares into the distance, hand clenched over my heart* My time has come…prepare yourselves, anons, for pure cute and fluff )

“You call that a hug?” Little Donald, Della, and Unca Scrooge

Raising kids was never something Scrooge could have imagined for himself. It was never part of his plans, especially at his current age. Kids were trouble, and work, and financially dependent, and…

And completely worth it.

He admits to himself that he still doesn’t know what he’s doing. When Hortense and her husband had…left him to care for the twins, he was met with frightful eyes and tearful nights where both would wail and cry for their Mam. He tried his best to explain to them why she wouldn’t- couldn’t- come back for them, pick them up, take them home. Those had been some of the hardest times in their lives, he and the twins.

He wished he could say that they settled quickly and without fuss, but it took quite a while until the kids were comfortable living with him. It took even longer for the nightmares to stop.

And so here he found himself, woken by little bodies crawling up into his bed and tugging at his blankets until finally he awoke with a start and flew up into a sitting position. The dual gasps and whimpers had Scrooge sighing and reaching for the lamp, before turning to find his niece and nephew sitting as close to each other as they could, and just as close to Scrooge as they would allow themselves. He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face and then looked at them both, waiting for one to speak.

“Unca Scrooge, Donal’ had a nightmare ‘gain,”  Della spoke up for her brother, who was still shaking and looking anywhere other than him.

“Aye, lass, I can see that,” he spoke gruffly, still shaking off sleep as he propped himself up to sit against his headboard, “What sort of nightmare was it this time, Donald?”

He earned a small shrug in response, causing Scrooge to let out a heavy sigh and turn his attention to Della.

“He was yellin’ for Mam.” She admitted, causing him to frown deeper and turn back to the other duckling.

“Donald, my boy, yeh’ve been havin’ those nightmares again? I thought ye said they were gone.” Scrooge frowned, opening his arms and pulling his nephew into his lap. The little one immediately latched onto him, shaking his head.

“Not the same.”

His brows furrowed, glancing up at Della who just shrugged and moved over to join her sibling and curl up to their uncle.

“Not the same, eh? Care to elaborate?” He asked, smiling when the word caused both ducklings’ own brows to furrow in confusion, “I mean, explain.”

Donald looked up at Scrooge, and all was silent for a second before his eyes filled with tears and he began sniffling, “Mam was a..a mons’er.”

“A monster, eh?” Scrooge hummed, using his thumb to wipe away little tears, “Ye know it was just a dream, right, lad?” He watched as Donald relaxed, giving a slight nod and then holding his arms up for Scrooge, which the duck obliged and picked him up into a hug.

“Mam isn’t a monster, Donal’. She’s an angel!” Della supplied helpfully, grinning when her uncle smiled down at her and nodded, “Yer right, Della. She’s no monster.”

Donald made a small noise of distress, before looking thoughtful, “She got wings?”

“Yes, smart boy! Angels have got wings.” Scrooge chuckled, shaking his head fondly at the two of them, “So, ye see? No family of mine will ever be monsters. Those silly dreams of yers are jus’ trying to scare ye.”

Both twins looked back up at him, and he suddenly found himself with a dual armful of tiny bodies clinging onto his.

“Thank you, Unca Scrooge,” Donald mumbled, the sentiment echoed more enthusiastically by his sister.

“Yer very welcome, kids.” He glanced at the clock, sighing at the time, “It’s time to head to bed, you two.”

A pair of little groans caused him to smirk, while both pushed themselves off the bed and headed towards the door. Before they left, Donald paused and turned back to look at his uncle while rocking back and forth on his feet.

“Unca Scrooge? Can we have a hug g’ night?” He asked weakly, causing the old duck to pause in reaching for the lamplight. He looked at both ducklings, eagerly waiting for his answer, and gave a slight chuckle and a nod.

“Come here, you two troublemakers.” Donald and Della came scurrying back to the bed, climbing up and into his open arms to nuzzle against him, “Oh, you call that a hug? Come on, kids, you can hug tighter than that!”

His ears filled with little giggles and Scrooge faked a wheeze as they tightened their arms around him, “Alright, alright, ye win! Don’t break yer old uncle’s ribs, now!”

They pulled away, each pressing a kiss to his cheek and then squirmed back off the bed and to the door, “Goodnight, Unca Scrooge!”

Just as an FYI, all of my writing can/should be found under the tags “Ryn writes”/“make ryn write”/ “writing asks” on my page. (They may not all be there, you know how tumblr is.)

I reblog writing prompt lists sometimes, but please feel free to send an ask for a prompt even when i haven’t reblogged one of those. I’m always up to writing and love to make you guys happy!

I’m into Ducktales especially, but I do also write for Kingdom Hearts, and you can request other shows/movies/video games as well, and I’ll be happy to do them if I know the franchise well enough. I’m also open to OCs and original writings, if you have an idea in mind.

Sometime in the future I may open up commissions for longer writings/more detailed and individual stuff, so keep an eye out for that!

(This one was tough to write, I’m gonna be honest! I’m not familiar enough with D’Jinn to write him properly, so apologies if this fic is a little awkward! It’s also pretty long compared to my other two so far- idk if that’s good or bad lol)

14. “Please don’t tell me you filmed that.” “Of course I filmed it.” Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera and D’Jinn

He really hadn’t meant to bother with patrol tonight. After all, Mister McDuck had said he could work whatever hours he was comfortable with. But something in his gut told him that he needed to go out, and M’Ma always trusted her gut, so he should, too.

Right?

It took a few hours of just wandering Duckburg, taking selfies with teenagers as he brought them home from a long night out, or the occasional fight that broke out in front of the shabby downtown bars before anything interesting happened…and, boy, was it interesting.

The suit immediately alerted him to a police call in progress in the lower districts of a “suspicious man” wandering the storefronts. Fenton alerted police that he was en route, worried about Beagle Boys or even an armed robber. But when he landed on West Thrasher Lane, what he saw was far more from the “suspicious” man that had been reported. A jackal dressed in robes was wrestling with the guy Fenton must have heard about over the comm- dressed in all black, a hat and mask covering most of his face. He noticed a broken store window, with a few bags of valuables and merchandise sitting beside it.

“You will not be plundering from this establishment today, thief!” The jackal shouted, doing his best to try and immobilize the perp.

Fenton snapped out of his observation and into action, holding his hand out towards the two, “Step aside, civilian, while I deal with this crook!” Two separate pairs of eyes fell on him, one wide with recognition and fear, and the other narrowed in suspicion.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” The man growled, before grunting as the criminal kicked him in the stomach and scrambled up to stand.

In Fenton’s defense, he panicked. He shot the web towards the two, determined not to lose his perp, and caught the jackal in the net as a mistake, and then it all went downhill from there.

The criminal and vigilante both yelled out in alarm, and Fenton raced forwards to help- only to get a knife nearly impaled in him as the man broke the net and knocked him off balance, teeth bared in defense.

“An accomplice! It seems I underestimated this town’s criminals…” He pressed the knife just below his bill, in the one spot that did not fully cover his neck, “Speak your purpose, metal man!”

“Uh…Uh- Gizmoduck!” Fenton blurted out, trying his best to keep still, “Gizmoduck! I work with the police!”

“A clever ruse, Gizmoduck. Attempting to seem like a hero in order to infiltrate your law enforcement and better steal from the good citizens of this town.” The jackal pressed the knife closer, eyes glinting in annoyance, “ I am Faris D’jinn, and I- HEY!”

The criminal looked up from where he was gathering his bags and booked it down a side alley. D’jinn sprang into action, holstering his knife and running after the man. Fenton let out a sigh of relief, before getting up to follow after him.

Out of the corner of his mask, he spotted a group of teenagers waiting by the bushes, each one with their phone in hand. His stomach dropped, and he called out as he raced by them, “Please tell me you didn’t film that!”

Oh no...oh nooo....

You all have no idea what’s coming your way.

So, everyone who sent me a prompt, please check back soon! It’s late for me so I’m going to sleep before continuing the rest. I got some really, really good requests and I’m looking forward to sharing them with you all!

Hi!

I’m sorry, but I’m not comfortable doing a romantic Fenpad dynamic. I do enjoy their friendship, but I don’t particularly enjoy them in a romantic sense, and I’m afraid it will skew my judgement and how I write- y’know, making it jerky and awkward in the bits where they would flirt or Fenton would compete for him.

However! I was talking with a friend about this, and she said she’d be willing to write it for you! If you send an ask over to @feckle-queckle , I’m sure she’d write you a really great fic. ❤️

Thank you for the ask, and sorry again for not being able to write this prompt.