Can you destroy my soul with 10 & 28 with Don, Della and scrooge, please? X3 I miss reading your writings aaah! ;u;
I don’t want to destroy your soul, my dear @itsdetectiveliz, but I won’t lie to you. I gave it a good shot. (And thank you so much! Ya’ make me blush.)
Metal fascinated Della. Alone it could not be touched, could not bend, but with the right tools and designs, metal held the power of transformation. She watched above, clutching the railings, as the truckers deposited the metal sheets for the rockets. Almost faint with excitement, she ran down the steps - ignoring the shouts of her name being called in the distance.
“We can’t keep this up forever.” Slowing down, she paused at the corner, curling her hands around the edge, “It’s a precarious endeavor.”
“Which is why Ah hired ye’ for the job, Ludwig.” He patted him lightly on the shoulder and stepped towards the half-finished project, “Ye ‘ere the only one for the job.”
The Spear of Selene was a behemoth. Far greater than the rocket that sent Neil Armstrong to the moon. Della sighed dreamily as she stepped into their presence, stars burned in her gaze.
“I cannot believe you’ve managed to get this far, Uncle Ludwig,” magnificent clouded her tone, sending her off onto a journey she had yet to begin.
“I think it is my best work yet.” He wrung an arm around her shoulders, pressing his cheek next to hers, “And my darlin’ niece will see the stars, but don’t go too far.”
“Sorry Uncle Ludwig, my sights are beyond the stars.” Moving ahead she observed the rocket’s foundation as men and women worked on the compartments. Impossible chanced along her lips, but impossibility was a peripheral concept neither she or Scrooge gave much thought to.
“What are you doing?”
Donald rolled in with a three passenger stroller. Thick circles clung under his eyes, but the boys were wide awake, cooing and sucking on their fingers.
“My boys!” Clapping her hands, the rocket’s magnificence was temporarily forgotten, “Did you have fun at the pediatrician?”
Donald shifted the baby bag hanging on his shoulder, “Fun isn’t what I would call it,” digging through the bag he pulled out a sheet of paper, “Louie’s lactose intolerant. Dewey’s downy feathers are extremely sensitive and need to be plucked daily, tweezers and or preening specified. Huey, perfectly healthy.”
She read through the prescription, “What’s this?”
“A specialized formula you’ll have to pick up at the pharmacy.” Donald stared at Scrooge, “I’m sure you have insurance, and if not, I’m sure you can afford it.”
“Aye, don’t worry ‘boot it lass.” Scrooge tapped his cane impatiently, “That lads are being taken care of, and of course anything for their health.”
“Is there something wrong, sonny boy?” Ludwig patted his back warmly and followed his gaze, “Ah, I see you’re captivated by the rocket, eh? It’s a beauty, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, a real treat.” His exhaustion stare became irritated, “Are you going to take ‘em now, or what? They need to take a nap for twelve.”
“Uncle Scrooge and Uncle Ludwig was showing me -,”
“Sweetie, it’s fine.” Ludwig interjected with a hoot, “The little ones need their nappies, look at ‘em.”
“Ah don’t see why ye’ can’t, lad.” Scrooge answered, “See, problem solved.”
Ludwig frowned, “But we don’t want to overwhelm the boy,” his voice turned stern, “he should get a break.”
“Donnie doesn’t mind, Uncle Ludwig.” She looked at him, “Don’t you? You love the boys!”
Donald gazed quietly at his sister and uncles. Her stars were oblivious and hopeful. He sighed tiredly, smiling stiffly, “Course I love ‘em, come on boys, we’ll go for a nap.”
“But Donald…”
“Now, Ludwig, ‘nough of that.” Scrooge waved his cane after them, “Beakley should be at the manor if you stop there; she’ll get anything you need.”
“Thank you Donnie! I’ll see you soon boys.”
Della kissed each of the boys on their foreheads and waved them off before returning to her conversations. Scrooge and Della focused on the rocket, just as Ludwig cast a wandering eye on his departing nephews. Donald’s hands wrung around the stroller handle.
He wasn’t angry. No, far from it. He was so very tired.
But still, his exhaustion pushed through and mustered a tiny, weak, “I thought we were family.”
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I have always wanted to do one of these, but, sadly, I’ve been so lazy throughout my life. I’ve never been able to fully fill one of these because I would have long periods in my life when I didn’t draw. That’s why I’ve made a New Year’s resolution to make as many completed pieces of art to be able to fill one of these three or four times over by the end of this year.
This year, I’ve decided to be positive like @delta-toons (Bless you!! You’ve got me pumped now!). This year’s art collection isn’t just to show my artistic progress, but my progress in determination! A lot of that, I owe to the DuckTales fandom! You can’t really tell here, but I started drawing a LOT more when I got into DT. To put that into perspective, before September I drew 4 pieces a month. Maybe. And that’s including sketches. September on out, I drew 14-18 completed pieces. You guys have been so encouraging and extremely supportive. Thank you.
Especially to these people (I’m sorry...There is a lot): @coldered @donaldtheduckdad (and Lil Lou) @ginyang98 @heythatsdeep @teddy-bear-princess @robinine-blog @miilkyprism @triplettroublex @itsdetectiveliz @day-ni @snowballflo @peeka-boo-blogs @tricia-morvill @janetbrown711 @delta-toons @pansiesanddasies @sylveonprotector07 (EXCEPT I CAN’T FREAKING TAG HER!! Would someone be a doll and tag her for me?)
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The scream that came from the bottom of the dungeon was terrible and drawn out.
It had only been 15 minutes since Laird rushed down the tunnels to get an advantage over El Capitan. Old Fool had treasure on his mind.
Gene, Laird, and Circe were sent to Transylvania in this particular castle because they were informed they could find a clue about either Adam Astronomo or the Wanderer. Gene winced when a tender spot brushed the walls as he and Circe ran down the tunnels to get to Laird. Merlock was...not gentle when he finally had the ‘talk’ with Gene.
“I could make those go away, sweetie” offered Circe.
“Not the time to be talking about this” huffed Gene. Besides, Circe’s generosity usually was a trap.
Circe pouted in response. “Rude”
They finally come upon a tall cavern dimly illuminated and in the middle of it was Laird. Well, what’s left of him. There was a figure on top of him eating the corpse and it then proceeded to tear out his heart.
Circe breathed in awe “W-Well. I’d like to say good riddance but that’s a nasty way to go. Poor Bastard”
Gene was mesmerized by the sight. Something about the figure felt familiar to him. He glanced at the duck shaped being, now tearing chunks of meat out, and suddenly noticed something shine back at him. He stepped toward the figure.
The figure noticed him and stopped eating. It stared at him as he approached.
“Djinni, what are you-”
The thing hissed and bounded toward Gene.
“DJINNI!” Circe had already prepared a spell for attack when Gene put up his hand “Stand down. They won’t harm me”
And indeed the being stopped directly in close proximity to Gene. It then began to sniff him. And then it---
“Is it rubbing it’s head on you and purring?” asked Circe incredulously.
Gene patted the being’s head awkwardly. “Apparently, Yeah”
On close inspection, it WAS a duck. Albeit it was in tattered clothes and a long flowing cloak. It had prominent fangs jutting out of it’s beak still dripping with blood. Most of all it had a gem on its forehead; A violet one and it looked cracked but the gem was identical to Gene’s green. Gene breathed in and touched his own on his forehead. He KNEW it! He wasn’t alone.
Oh, the poor thing! What has driven it to live so barbarically? It must be in a lot of pain because of the crack on its jewel, albeit it didn’t seem to hamper its abilities. No matter, it was an easy fix. His hands and gem glowed a steady green and it enveloped the other’s, beginning the repair process. The being snuffled at him in curiosity.
“You...both have the same gems attached to your foreheads, although it’s violet for that one. Wait...does this mean you both are the same type of monster?”
Gene looked at Circe.
Almost a thousand years ago, when he still held a crying child that came from the sky, that very same question was asked of him:
“Does this mean she is the same as you? A monster?”
When he fell the same way a few decades before that, he was asked by a curious little one:
“Are you a Marid? Or some other monster?”
Are you a monster?
The violet forehead gem of the other one glowed in time with his, casting an eerie light on both him and the one clinging to him.
“Yes”
for @meiloorun-notthefruit @somebitofeverything @sarroora @donaldtheduckdad @lilkitsunemischief @heythatsdeep @robinine-blog @cognicharias @peeka-boo-blogs @snowballflo @itsdetectiveliz @winterpower98 and @miilkyprism thanks for the friendship guys and may we have a long one!
redone post because this didn’t appear in the tags and normally I wouldn’t care but this was a plot important one >:(
You can support me making more of this content by either sharing, buying me a kofi or commissioning me! (Links are in my blog’s description)
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