sledgehammer by fifth harmony and toy by netta for the music asks!
couldn’t listen all the way through | not my thing | it’s okay | kinda catchy | ok i really like this | downloading immediately | already in my library
I’m more of a rock gal than I am pop, but they’re both really good!
online classes doesn’t work at all, and the fact that people who don’t even have computers or internet will lost the year sucks, but we have to remember that most teachers are trying their best. and is most the government's fault, because these people don’t care about poor people education at all.
‘ it’s good to have you home. ’ scrooge & donald please!!
sᴏғᴛ ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ ᴛʜɪɴɢs || Accepting!
It was strange, readjusting to a home you’d spent almost yourentire life in. Donald couldn’t exactly describethe feeling; his emotions were a mess, and although its joyous occasion, thefamily reunion hadn’t done much to remedy the internal confusion. But… He was happy. He was happy to be home. Therewas just something so surreal about it, something that made even this realityfeel like a distant dream. Something that made him feel like he’d wake up anyminute, and find himself ripped away from them once again.
And then there was his sister… that was a place he could noteven begin to comprehend. She was the most surreal of all, which was onlymatched with her importance in his world. In their world. Hours ago, there’d been gross sobbing, hugging, and abit of yelling but it was fond despite all. She was back. The part of theirworld was back, and it felt like everything could be right again. Almost…
As Donald had set about putting away the groceries he’dbought earlier, he heard several knocks at the door. The duck turned his head,blinking blankly – though there was an approaching sense of dread that he was needed for something. He was still regaining himself, and that muchthe family had agreed on when they’d left him alone to reacquaint with a placehe hadn’t seen in more than a month.
“Donald? It’s me.”
The voice at the other side surprised him, honestly – the mosthe’d expected were the kids wantingsomething or other… or maybe even his sisterdropping by… but Uncle Scrooge, he expected to turn up the least. Donald turned back to putting his groceries away, notlooking away as he called out to the door across the room.
“It’s open.”
And with that, the old miser let himself inside, gently closing the door behind him. Hestood there for a couple of awkward moments, seemingly composing himself andwhat he wanted to say. There was no telling how long he’d been doing such a similar thing outside the door, letalone in. Donald let the silent pass; it’d come eventually. Probably. Otherwisethey’d be stood here in that infamousawkward silence they’d suffered together many a time before.
Then…
“Donald, I wanted to – ”
“You don’t need to.”
It had clicked so quicklyfor the sailor, the way the man stood,the sorrowful way in which he hadstarted his words, all these actions after one specific series of events. He’dsuddenly realized Scrooge McDuck was infact the most expected visitor of all. Of course he’d be here, about tospill a million apologies because the wound was open once again. He felt he’dfailed Donald. That’s why he was here, but Mrs.Beakley’s intervention months ago rendered that reason effectively useless.
“…There may not bea need, lad, but I still want to,” the old duck responded, a firm line on hisbeak as he briefly averted his gaze. He slowly made his way over to thekitchen, hesitantly sitting down on the end of the booth and watching as theother put juice cartons away. Scrooge paused, frowning before he sighed deeply.“I’m sorry... I should’ve never made that spear… not only did it take Della away from us… ittook you too.”
“It was an accident,”Donald responded, his tone tired but nonetheless acceptant. Did he really thinkthat? For the second time round, most certainly; the duck’s luck always actedagainst him, and his uncle was not to blame for that. And Della’s initialdisappearance had been discussed… it was water under the bridge. He’d movedpast it. He wouldn’t forget it, but he’d moved past it.
Scrooge, however, hadn’t.Honestly, he had a strong feeling he neverwould. The appearance of his niece, thank all that was sacred for her return,had opened wounds he thought he’d sealed away years ago. All those years she’dspent trapped on that rock were because of him. She never saw her kids untilnow because of him. Everything broke apart, because of him. And because of thatvery same mistake he’d made years ago, he’d almostlost Donald… they’d almost lost Donald.
Perhaps someday they’d discuss that at length… it seemed thefocus had to be on something else.
“…we were all lost without you, you know.”
“Really?”
Donald glanced over his shoulder, though the tone isn’twithout a sense of suspicion. Surely they couldn’t have been that lost without him… it sounded likehis uncle was depreciating himself just to make him feel better. The thought ofthat hardly made him feel better, but with the way Scrooge looked back at him,maybe he was wrong.
“Yes,” Scrooge affirmed, the expression on his facebittersweet. “Really.”
The miser paused, his eyes darting across the room towardsthe door. Donald’s absence was… jarring.It was like the puzzle was there, but one piece had gone missing. It was one ofthose things where you didn’t understand how truly important something wasuntil it was gone.
“It was one adventure we really wished we hadn’t livedwithout you.”
“…”
Donald closed the door to the fridge, silent and thoughtfulat these words. The silence passed between them was almost agonizing until theold miser rose to his feet. He felt he had a million things to say to Donald, but even now, after everything,was struggling to say them. Him,Scrooge McDuck – the idea was as bizarre as it was hilarious. He chided himselfat the thought, but at the same time, this was probably the last thing Donaldneeded after being stranded in space for so long.
“…”
The duck’s thoughts drifted briefly to his niece, and of herexperiences he could not begin to fathom still – but he pushed that negativityaside. Not today. Not now, when Donald was recovering from that outer-worldexperience.
Scrooge made his way over to the door, coming to a stopbefore it. He glanced back at Donald, beak pursed to say something. It seemed,after a minute or so, he’d decided, and lifted his head, staring at the other’sback.
“Donald?”
Donald turned, looking at what seemed to be the man’sdeparture. It seemed almost short –was he really leaving already? But Donald supposed that’s how they were. They’dsooner leave than stand these tensesilences, and even despite that, the words that Scrooge had chosen were critical. Donald would forever beappreciative of that. And he never appreciated the next words more.
Scrooge smiled at him, his hand settled on the door knob.
After their fight with Magica, Scrooge feels the need to check on his family before going to bed. Everyone is sound asleep, except Webbigail. So he takes her on a little field trip.
Or, the one where Scrooge apologizes like Webby deserves.
You can also read it on ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18781786
Scrooge hadn’t done this in years. He’d been lucky these past few months, he acknowledged now. Despite the sticky situations they’d gotten into, none had been so dangerous that he needed confirmation everyone was home, safe and in bed, before he could drift off to sleep himself.
He came to Donald’s room first. The door was wide open, and the lad was tangled in his sheets. But whatever imaginary demon he’d fought, he had gotten the best of it, for now he snored lightly with one arm dangling off the mattress.
He’d been so proud of him today – Donald Duck, the daring adventurer, just like he’d always been. The best part about Donald wasn’t that he was fearless – he’d always been the more cautious of the twins. No, the best part about Donald was how he judged fear, how he took it under advisement as part of the equation instead of the whole answer. How he knew when something was more important. Raising the boys had taught him to err more on the side of caution, but the adventurer in him had come out in full force today, even trusting the kids to get involved.
Down the hall, the door to the boys’ room appeared closed, but Scrooge found that all it needed was a slight push. His great nephews were in a pile in the bottom bunk, Huey on the edge looking dangerously close to falling off, Louie pressed against the wall, and Dewey sandwiched in between.
He swallowed hard. Besides what Magica had put them through, he’d almost lost them to his own hard-headedness. He hadn’t realized how lonely those ten years had been until they’d left, and his home was suddenly plunged into silence again.
He pulled the door towards him, leaving only a crack, and continued down the hall. Seeing the boys had lightened his heart and even let his eyes start to droop, but there was one room left before he could relax completely.
Webby’s door was closed. Scrooge winced at the click the doorknob made when he turned it, knowing it would wake her. But when he pushed the door open, and his eyes fell on the bed, it was empty.
The fatigue that had started to creep in vanished as his heart pounded furiously. The first thing was to wake Beakley, they’d find Webby together, and if Magica had managed –
“Mr. McDuck?”
He jumped. He pressed a hand against his still racing heart.
“What the devil are you doing out of bed, Lass?”
“Oh.” Her gaze dropped to the floor as she tugged on her yarn bracelet. “I just…can’t sleep. Sorry…I’m just gonna…go back in my room now.”
“Aye,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “And change into your adventuring clothes. We’re going on a field trip.”
“What?”
“I’ll leave a note for your Granny. Go on now.”
By the time he’d written the note and taped it to Webbigail’s door, she was straightening her bow.
“Where are we going, Mr. McDuck?”
He tried not to cringe at that. “It’s a surprise.”
She stopped. “You’re not an evil doppelganger trying to lure me out of the mansion, are you?”
“What? No!” He cocked his head. “Though I guess that’s not an entirely impossible scenario… Would a doppelganger know your favorite drink is juice? That your favorite booby trap is spike pits? Or that you once defeated Ma Beagle by improvising a ball pit man trap?”
“I guess not…”
“Besides, we’re not even leaving the mansion, technically. To the Other Bin!”
Scrooge didn’t turn to look at her, just listening to her footfalls as he led her into the basement. He changed the riddle every time he added something new. The idea was that someone – Donald or Beakley, most likely – could get in if something happened to him, but no one who didn’t know him so well stood a chance. He was sure, if he asked, Webby already knew the new riddle and could solve it just like she’d done last time. But he just used the key in his cane and held the vault door open so she could walk in first.
“Door 1286,” he said as she passed. She blinked, but began to lead the way. At the door, they both paused. Webby stared, reverently, first at the door and then at him, but he could see the curiosity in her eyes too. He reached out, brushing his fingertips against a door he hadn’t opened in twenty years.
He pushed it open, and stepped inside.
The place hadn’t changed. A brilliant purple sky filled with uncountable glittering stars, glowing against lush grass and trees. Most of the vegetation was a variant shade of pink, but even the ones that were green were a little too bright to be earthly.
When they’d closed the door and stepped away from it, Webby ran around it again and again. Because now it was a free-standing door with nothing on either side.
He waited until she’d finished, then silently led her down an overgrown path, up a hill, and to the edge of a cliff overlooking a similarly lush vista, complete with a white waterfall and a string of luminescence that put the aurora borealis to shame.
He carefully lowered himself to sit on the cliff’s edge. Webby stood, gaping, next to him. Her eyes sparkled as she looked out, and that in itself was lovelier than the view in front of him.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed.
“Besides you and me, only one person has ever seen this.”
“Really? Who?”
He took a deep breath. “Della.”
She turned to him, wide-eyed. As he spoke, she sat down next to him on the ledge.
“She was…about thirteen, or maybe fourteen. It was right after she and Donald moved in with me permanently. He acclimated quickly, but Della…she took a little longer to adjust. I found her wandering the halls a few times, trying to get her bearings.”
Silence settled between them, until Webby said, “I’m sorry you lost her.”
“I’m sorry you lost Lena.”
She sniffed, twirling her bracelet between two fingers. “I know she was working for Magica, and… know she wasn’t exactly a good person the whole time, but—”
He shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. In the end, she chose the right thing. She was going to help me get you all back. She saved you.”
A tear leaked out of her eyes. “I miss her a lot.”
“I know, darling.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Be sad as long as you need to be. Just know, wherever she is, I’m sure she misses you just as much.”
She hesitated just a moment, then wrapped her arms around his chest and buried her face n his shirt. He felt the teardrops first, before she started shaking and her muffled sobs broke his heart.
He didn’t know how long he held her until her shoulders relaxed and her sobs settled back into sniffles.
As she pulled back, she wiped the remaining tears from her eyes.
“Sorry,” she said lightly. “I didn’t mean to slobber all over you.”
“Nonsense,” he said, ruffling her hair. “It’s what family’s for.” He took a deep breath and rushed in before she could say anything. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”
She wouldn’t meet his gaze, and he didn’t blame her. He straightened his top hat. “I know the boys told you—”
“It’s okay.”
“What?”
“I know…families change and grow, and it means different things to different people.”
He didn’t want to underestimate Webby by assuming she was parroting her Granny, but it certainly sounded like Bentina.
“Huey, Dewey, and Louie can be my family without me being yours. It’s okay.”
She wasn’t crying, but she still wasn’t looking at him, and his heart broke all over again.
He sighed. “Rotten uncle I turned out to be.”
“Mr. McDuck…”
“You were right, Webbigail. Building Della the rocket was a bad idea. But I had all sorts of ways to justify it at the time. It was going to be her last big adventure before settling down for good, and she was Della Duck! The question was never who would let her, but who would stop her. Stubborn as me, that one was.”
He sighed. “All things I should have said instead of what I did say, which I only said because I felt outnumbered and attacked and wanted you out of the fight by any means necessary.”
He could feel her gaze on him, but now it was he who couldn’t face her. He just stared at his hands.
“I understand if you can’t forgive me, and if I’m not Uncle Scrooge any more, but…I just needed you to know.” He forced himself to meet her eyes. “I was the one who did something wrong, Webby, not you. You are important to me. I just have a knack for hurting the people I love most when my pride gets wounded…”
Webby smiled. Her eyes were watering. The grin itself was a little lopsided, and when she hugged him it wasn’t quite as tight as before.
But it was a start.
“I’d like for you to call me Uncle Scrooge again. Enough of that Mr. McDuck nonsense!”
Pulling back, she bit her beak. “Can I…can I just call you ‘Scrooge?’ For now?”
“Aye,” he conceded. “That will do, my girl. That will do.”
They sat there for a while, mostly in silence. At some point, Webby drifted off.
He let her doze awhile, staring out at the waterfall as his brain began to work.
Magical beings rarely vanished completely. If Magica had come back after all those years, there was a good chance…well, he’d have to do some research.
But that was for another day. Webby began to stir, and the ache in his stomach made him consider how late (or early rather) it probably was.
“Come on my dear,” he said gently. “It’s time to go home.”
They walked together, back down the hill, through the door. Here it was always night, but the sun was rising over Duckberg. They made their way through the mansion to the dining room.
“Good morning, Webby!” Donald said as they entered. “Don’t let me forget: I found a book I want to show you later.”
Beakley entered the room with a full tray. She raised an eyebrow at Scrooge.
“Not too late for breakfast, I hope,” he said in response.
“I didn’t make your usual because you weren’t here. But if you want French toast, there’s plenty.”
“French toast!” Webby exclaimed. “That’s my favorite!”
The housekeeper finally smiled. “I know, dear.”
“Sounds excellent,” Scrooge said, passing her and taking his seat at the head of the table.
“Where were you?” Huey demanded as she settled into her seat next to him. “We were kinda worried.”
She opened her mouth to answer, but Scrooge spoke instead.
“Don’t you worry about it, Hubert; that’s between a man and his niece.”
Huey narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but pushed the syrup towards her as Beakley set a plate of toast in front of her. “Well, we were going to watch an Ottoman Empire marathon after breakfast, if you’re up for it.”
“I’m there,” she said with her mouth full.
Scrooge opened his paper as the kids began to talk excitedly about the day.
