OMG TODDY THAT WAS SO WHOLESOME AND SWEET!!!!

OMG TODDY THAT WAS SO WHOLESOME AND SWEET!!!!❤❤❤❤

M'ma Cabrera strikes again XD

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summary: In which New Chief Cabrera is a little worried about Duckburg’s most beloved avenger.

word count: 1156

n/a: fly-by-the-seats-of-my-pants writing.

It wasn’t the first time that officer Cabrera met face-to-face with the Duck Avenger, but it was the first time since the day she became Chief. Their actual first meeting came to her mind, shots exchange in the middle of thug war, she almost fell prey to the panic when her partner was shot and lost consciousness and her own shoulder didn’t work as good. The Duck Avenger broke in the scene like a miracle. That day she discovered she actually had the permission to cry while on duty. In looked somewhat like the scene in front of her now, the only difference was that none of her subordinates was hurt, thanks to the Duck Avenger, something that she wholeheartedly appreciated. But there was this feeling about him since the day she met him that was worrying her, and she needed to confirm it.

She walked up to him before he could hop into his mobile and disappear as always, it was now or never. “Avenger.” She greeted, hand up to salute him.

“The new Chief, I assume.” The Avenger took the cue and shook her hand. He seemed to exude confidence. Cabrera wondered how much of that confidence was real and how much was just braveness against the fear. Either way, he looked tired, victorious but tired.

“I think I never thanked you, for saving my life a year ago, you probably don’t remember me.”

“I…actually do.” Cabrera looked at him surprised, the Avenger looked embarrassed and scratched the back of his neck, and he didn’t look at her face. “It’s weird to think that someone I saved is now Chief and not just an officer. Guess functioning adults work like that, right, um, Chief Cabrera?”

Oh. Functioning adults. So, she was right after all. This man was young, way too young. Cabrera smiled, a motherly feeling encompassing her to relieve him and worry about him. “Well, I’m glad. I’m actually wanted to thank you as the Chief, in the name of the whole station, for all the services you give to the city. This city wouldn’t be so safe without you, I gotta admit that much. We’re all glad to have you.”

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KYAAAAAAAAAAAAA❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

I LOVE IT.

Can we please appreciate their faces? Also, Magica looks so threatening OwO

Have I ever told you how cute is your art style?? I ADORE THE WAY YOU DRAW DUCKS :3

P. S: I'm definetely trying the game

Art trade with @ai-higurashi.

I wanted to do something more shippy, but it inevitably became this. I am sorry and I hope you like it. Try to guess who the hunter is. And remember

NO ONE ESCAPES DEATH.

P.S. Play Identity V. It’s a great game. And it’s free. You have absolutely nothing to lose.

Number 14 for Donald and Scrooge

#14. “You’re a disappointment.” + Donald Duck & Scrooge McDuck

Word Count: 1297 (you inspired me too much anon lmao this took longer than expected)

“You’re a disappointment.”

Scrooge stopped on his tracks, the hand that was about to hold onto his nephew’s shoulder hanging uselessly in midair, he felt freeze on the spot, trying to blink away his confusion over the statement. Donald’s back seemed bigger out of nowhere but so far away from him anyways, he didn’t know why he thought it was a good idea to touch it considering he couldn’t reach him at all at that distance. Donald was also carrying three familiar eggs on his arms, Scrooge felt the horrible anticipation of something that was going to go very, very wrong.

“Lad-,” he tried again, but Donald interrupted him with an incredulous scoff that shut up Scrooge immediately by how cold it sounded and did Donald seemed even more away from him?

Since when Donald looked so unreachable?

Donald turned around the exact amount to side-eye him, a dark gaze on his face and a deceptive frown enhancing his angered face. “You said you were going to protect us, you said you were going to protect her. You lost their mother, Scrooge.” Scrooge felt like he couldn’t breathe, like all the air on his lungs left him in a second. Donald kept going, with every word he said, he sounded stronger but muffled, like someone that was screaming at you from a closed room. “You lost my sister, just like you lost yours. Hell, you couldn’t even do one thing right for my mom even after all this time.”

Donald didn´t sound angry even if his face was another issue, but that distressed Scrooge, all the same, that terrified him. He sounded so devoid of emotion like he wasn’t Donald at all, but Scrooge didn’t seem capable of acknowledging it, his mind too busy trying to comprehend the screams and sadness and cries coming from his own thoughts. Donald started to really walk away, he was leaving with the eggs.

It shouldn’t be a surprise that Donald was leaving though, the twins made similar decisions in different circumstances even if they were not aware of it. Scrooge knew this.

Della left.

Of course, Donald would leave too.

Scrooge tried to call him but no sound came from his beak. He tried again, over and over again, but not a sound left. Terrified, his hands went too enclosed on his throat suddenly more scared than before. He tried to say sorry, he tried to beg Donald to come back, to not leave him too. He tried to run after him. All those actions went to no avail. Terror started to grow around him like a vine, entailing him tightly, not leaving room to move, the vines started to grow around his throat replacing his hands that tried uselessly to free him from them. Donald seemed even more far away, Scrooge almost couldn’t see him.

He was sorry, he was so sorry. Why couldn’t he get those words out? Pride? Stubbornness? It wasn’t his fault all of that-. But it was partially his fault. Donald knew this, that’s why he was leaving. That’s why he wanted him to not leave.

He tried to call Donald’s name again in the mist of all the screams that appeared on the room, all of them different, coming from the present and the past, some of them sad, some of them angered, all of them suffering. Scrooge could not bear with it anymore. Please don’t leave me alone…

Donald.

You’re a disappointment.

Nephew.

You fucked up the last chance to make up to Hortense.

Donnie.

You lost her. You failed me. You lost them both in the same day.

Son.

All of them.

“DONALD!”

Scrooge screamed, the sound piercing through the night and the mansion like a bullet, breaking the silence that has been hanging calmly around the place. Scrooge grasped his bed sheets tight between his fingers like he was holding for dear life, kicking and thrashing around, grinding his teeth without being aware of doing it. He sweated even when it was a cold November’s night, there were tears running down his cheeks, he didn’t seem to be awake even if his eyes were open wide, still inside his nightmare, even when two familiar hands started to shake him up and a quacky voice called him worried.

“-ge! Scrooge! C’mon! Wake up! I’m here, Uncle Scrooge!”

Out of nowhere, Scrooge sat up, looking frightened to his core, gasping for air like he hadn’t been breathing for years, he whined like a hurt puppy. Donald almost jumped out of the bed from where he had been sitting trying to calm Scrooge kicking and trashing of the bed and from hurting himself, what was now a disaster, but recovered surprisingly fast, leaving his hands in midair, ready to take action if necessary. Scrooge stared wide-eyed ahead of him, unaware of Donald in front of him, eyes unfocused, his pupils were dilated and his heart raced against his ribcage.

A good time passed from there until Scrooge started to blink away his tears and he could focus on his nephew, reassuring smile in place. Scrooge didn’t know from where the horrible feeling of abandonment came from but it was eating his heart away and so he started crying at the sight of Donald.

“Donald, lad, you came back, you’re here,” he stuttered between the words, touching Donald’s face, his shoulders, his arms, his hands, trying to remain sure of his existence, that he was not alone. That this Donald wasn’t a product of his lonely and old mind.

Donald blinked, a confused expression on his face but remained calm, grounding foundation to the anxious’ base of Scrooge. He continued smiling. “Of course? Where else would I be?”

Where else would he be?

Scrooge let a broken cry escape his beak and kept grasping Donald’s pink pajamas like he was holding for dear life. Scrooge cursed at himself when he felt Donald tensing, but he relaxed just as fast, hugging Scrooge and guiding his head with one hand to his shoulder. And there, tucked into his arms and with his face hidden in the crook of his neck, Scrooge let himself go. Scrooge cried, and cried, completely inconsolable. He couldn’t remember anything, absolutely anything of the dream, but the feeling was still present: terror, horror, fear. Invisible vines tightening around his body and regret nailing him down to his bed.

Scrooge felt a soft caress on his back and hear Donald scoffing, sounding amused. “I’m getting old, Uncle Scrooge. Stop worrying me.”

Scrooge wanted to laugh at that but didn’t found the strength. How could Donald come to him like this? All worried but calm and like he had let go of his anger for Della? But, wasn’t that the thing that Scrooge wanted him to do since the start? To let it go and come to him again? He didn’t feel like he deserved it. Was he being selfish? The question of “Did I disappoint you?” burned his tongue like his saliva was lava. Instead, Scrooge cried a plead of “sorry”s, hiccupping like a kid, holding tighter to Donald’s pajamas.

Donald kept caressing his back until he couldn’t hear Scrooge crying anymore, until he fell asleep again, like nothing had ever happened, snoring away softly, and breathing calmly. Donald accommodates him again on his bed. If the feathers of his cheeks didn’t have that texture of dried tears, he could almost believe this night terror was a product of his imagination. But Donald knew better, like he knew Scrooge wouldn’t probably remember this episode at all in the morning. Night terrors were like that sometimes, it was probably for the better, he didn’t know how to address this to his uncle. Donald said something anyways, sadness in his voice, “I’m sorry, too.”

I was actually going to make Scrooge said this to a younger Donald but then the idea of Scrooge having night terrors of the day both his niece and nephews left him alone came to me like a flash and I couldn’t stop myself. Hope u like it!!! (it hurt me like a trainwreck but well, gotta sleep these feelings away at 2:49am lmao ill read all my mistakes tomorrow ) 

You can send another prompt from this list or send me one of your own, I’ll write it when I have the time. Also, I’m not doing NSFW prompts…yet lmao.

On AO3

@helloplaystationallstarslove So Scrooge is not doing good with horror films... What about horror games?

No matter how many times I read this, it always warms my heart 😭 ❤❤

i was thinking about fenton coming out again to his mamá, how terrible nervous he must have felt to have to come out to his overbearing but well-meaning mother who he doesn’t want to disappoint anymore who maybe accepted the first time out of indifference but now could be mad for this shit happening a second time??? and i wrote this??? i should like end sapphic september but The Feelings™ hit me about fenton and his mamá and i needed to get it out of my system so here have a fanfic.

It happened on a Sunday, he had been planning how to do it for months. When and how in a very detailed manner so his mother would understand and she would not freak out. He would do it a day her favorite soap opera wasn’t on T.V. so she would give him her full attention, a day where she wasn’t as tired of her job, a day she wasn’t stressed out with bills and taxes and paperwork. A day when she only would stare at him in a “normal disappointed and tired” manner, instead of an “extremely disappointed and exhausted” manner. He would prepare her a tres leches with her coffee and sit down with her at the table and they would have a peaceful and normal conversation about it.

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duckvember 2018: 2. childhood duck (parrot & rooster) - The Three Caballeros.

ellos dicen we´re birds of uma pena || part 1

chapter 1: tenho liberdade, quero coragem - josé

summary: What one has, the other lacks. If only they could find each other even when they’re so far away from each other. Someday, probably. In which, José, Panchito, and Donald lack only two things in their childhoods: each other’s strengths and each other’s unconditional love.

word count: 4542

n/a: vovó carioca’s redesign, my take on their childhood, fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants writing, maybe the characterization is not that good? i tried for my favorite birds, josé’s existential crisis about some traits of him in the comics.

“José, are you selling the brigadeiros like I told you?”

José looked over his shoulder, his classmates were eating pretty happily the brigadeiros and branquinhos he sold them in exchange of him playing the guitar in the plaza, the tray he used to bring them to the plaza was completely empty like their pockets. He couldn’t be blamed, they wanted him free for them to use, and he wanted to be free from having to walk around for hours until he could sell all the sweets. It was a valid exchange, right? And they didn’t need to know he oversold them, anyways. It wasn’t his fault they accepted, they could have thought better.

He heard some girls laughing behind him, murmurs and aws, he held the old public phone harder to his ear. If his mom knew he was actually slaking off, instead of going home right after she was going to riot. “Just did, mãe. And the branquinhos too, before you ask.”

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