Real Talk Though, Are You Completely Sure You Haven't Been Secretly Drawing Until Now? BECAUSE YOUR DRAWINGS

Real talk though, Are you completely sure you haven't been secretly drawing until now? BECAUSE YOUR DRAWINGS ARE SO FREAKING ADORABLE AND CUTE >w

ASDFGHJKJHGFDSASDFG AI!!!!!!!  ❤❤❤❤❤❤ being real, i did draw before but like i abandoned it a year ago??? i havent draw anything since last year not even a little doodle lmao i just really recently picked it up again. BUT AI YOU ARE THE CUTEST????!!!! THIS IS NICE!!!! I MEAN I FEEL LIKE THIS:

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Adventure Time Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Princess Bubblegum/Marceline Characters: Princess Bubblegum, Marceline (Adventure Time) Additional Tags: Character Death, Emotional Hurt, like im so sorry honestly i dont know why i did this, Sapphic September, Sapphic September 2018, Grief/Mourning, Bad Ending, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Episode: s09e13 Come Along With Me Series: Part 15 of Sapphic September 2018 Summary:

The person she loved the most, was there, suffering and she couldn’t protect her even when she was right there by her side.

sapphic september 2018: 15. (star-crossed lovers or holding your dead lover’s body)

You beautiful idiot, YOU HAD NO RIGHT TO MAKE ME CRY LIKE THAT!!!!! THAT WAS SO DAMN TOUCHING I CAN BARELY SEE THROUGH MY TEARS!!!! I live for fics with family feels (specially Cabrera's lil' family) and yours are definetely the best ones!!!

I also adore how alive and real they feel in your writings (the small Spanish lines you include make them even better)

duckvember 2018: 8. love duck [first piece][second piece here] - M’ma Cabrera & Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera

don’t give up on me now, por favor

summary: Fenton tells his mamá about his new job as Gizmoduck. Surpringsily, mamá Cabrera doesn’t take it well. In which, M’ma Cabrera and Fenton love each other a lot and are worried about each other because of their jobs.

word count: 1601

n/a: fly-by-the-seat.of-my-pants writing, angsty with a teaspoon of fluff at the end, mamá Cabrera just loves her son so much guys :(

“You exploded, Fenton! In the sky!”

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Beakley carrying him to bed is so sweet 💕 💕 💕

Goldie should probably run though XD

Some BMxWH doodles along with some headcanons.

@ai-higurashi @missmystical12 @cybra-sensei

Scrooge is a HORRIBLE cook. Beakley is too afraid to admit it.

Despite of that, he sings like an angel and Beakley quickly fell in love with his voice.

Goldie is a succubus and she met Scrooge when he and Beakley went to a restaurant. She couldn’t cast a spell on him since he’s blind so she tried to flirt naturally. She didn’t know until too late that her former night school rival Beakley was his wife. And if Goldie fears anybody, it’s her.

Scrooge often overworks himself and it concerns Beakley. She often carries him to bed so he sleeps.

Edit: forgot the link to the song Scrooge sings

https://youtu.be/vunm-W-ovLc

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

OH MY STARS TODDY, THIS ONE IS SO FREAKING CUTE AND HEARTWARMING!!!!!

How the hell do you get me that emotional with your fics???!!!! I'm fangirling and squealing around like crazy!!! And you make me ship them so hard >w<💕!!!! I'm dead, they're too adorable for my heart

duckvember 2018: 8. love duck [first piece here][second piece] - Fentonald [Donald Duck/Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera]

touch me again

summary: “Hey,”  Donald said confidently one night in the houseboat, calling his attention instantly. “Touch me again.”

word count: 2684

n/a: kind of mindless fluff, fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants writing, ptsd!donald, also guys, if u need to go to therapy, dont be like donald and go lmao 

“Hey,” Donald whispered softly, almost inaudible from his place in a chair close to Fenton’s desk, near enough to keep him company and away enough to not distract him. Fenton looked up from the Dr. Gearloose’s new invention that he was assembling. Donald was sprawled on the chair, frowning at his fingers while he twiddled his thumbs.

The thing was, that even if Donald had put himself really far away from him he would have still been hyperaware of him, kind of distracting him anyways, and he knew that was why he heard him loud enough even when he whispered. Fenton addressed him verbally, knowing that Donald didn’t know that he was paying attention to him. “Yeah?”

He continued, hesitantly. “Could we try the touching again? Please.”

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