#amaranthinemuses

[ducktales-wco-oo]

When you've been fighting for it all your life

                  You've been struggling to make things right 

✯ That’s how a superhero learns to fly ✯

{ © } Ind. Drake Mallard and Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera ~ Am & Dragon

[1lilspark]

amaranthinemuses reblogged your post:Drake does/did Hallmark movies....

// I'll add that he'll complain anout how cheesey they are in the public eye, how cliché it is from the acting to the...

THIS!

but also...He’d be the male lead in one of those Movies and Mysteries anthology series and Gos would neg him about it and he’d be “These residuals are going to pay for your College Education someday”

[wcrldtcpa]

@amaranthinemuses --- starter call ( jim & drake )

     There was an uncertainty that came with finally having your revenge. Now that the failed actor had succeeded in ending his replacement's career as Darkwing Duck, Jim found that there was little to motivate him to do anything other than taunt the young actor-turned-hero. Even that was beginning to grow boring, as Drake began responding to his mocking less and less as time went by. It was almost more of an inconvenience to keep the crusader as his prisoner at this point, yet his ego prevented the twisted duck from freeing the other.

     He felt tired, like he had felt for years after the cancellation of his dream role. The same feeling of lying on the couch in his cheap apartment surrounded by his memorabilia and vices that reminded him of his former glory, going out only to buy the basics - the only difference was that the sewers he had taken residence in was more spacious than his old living quarters. Even his short run to grab dinner for him and his captive ( the last thing he wanted was for the other to starve and leave him with a body to get rid of ) had drained him of most of his energy. Trudging through the sewers to his lair, he could feel his head become heavy. He just wanted to sleep, but grub would have to come first or else it would go bad.

     Upon his arrival, he dropped the bag of food on the table to divide it up for the two of them. Out of habit, his eyes traveled to the cage where the ex-crusader resided, ensuring that he hadn’t escaped during Jim’s absence. In his weary state, his eyes caught the others and transferred him to another time and place, where those familiar eyes belonged to someone else who was long gone from his life.

     “Don’t look at me like that, Ava.” He didn’t even realize that those words were spoken aloud, just loud enough to be heard. Yet he hadn’t even process his slip-up in the moment.

[softroseymuses]

@amaranthinemuses​: “Gosalyn held a surprise party for Violet or something and Drake's just watching over along with Violet's dads?” Happy birthday, Violet! (May 15)

She had a feeling that Gosalyn and Mr. Mallard were planning something from how little Indigo and Tyrian were telling her and Lena on the drive to St. Canard. Even so, opening up the door to the Mallard household, she recoiled at the sudden noise. Her new friend was chaotic, she was clearly beginning to see. Even more so than Webbigail or Dewford.

But it was the good kind of chaotic.

She was quick to adjust to the atmosphere, and while Indigo, Tyrian, and Mr. Mallard all sat back together, Gosalyn was leading Violet and Lena in all of the usual birthday party happenings, with a small cake, a few games between the two of them--which even Violet couldn’t resist pulling her fathers and her sister in to play--and, finally, a present.

“This has been fun, Gosalyn. Thank you for having us over. Did you like the hors d’oeuvres we made?”

[soul-heart-and-beyond]

🙈

🙈: If you don’t know what I look like, guess!

MUTUALS ASK GAME

Man, I don’t know if I can guess correct either but I’ll give a try. Don’t get mad or offended if I guess wrong, okay?

Judging by usual standards with roleplaying, or demographics, most rpers are female (Not to discriminate but it seems really common for that), and I want to say you might have dark or brunette hair, maybe a little beige in skin tone, and around medium height? You probably don’t wear glasses either.

[ducktales-wco-oo]

"You're a beautiful person, you know that?" Dana hushed as he tucked a strand of hair behind Fenton's ear. He huddled close to the smaller man, in his winter coat, creating a warm space in the cold frost-bitten air. "If anyone has the embodiment of holiday spirit, it's you Fentaski mou."

- ✩ { @amaranthinemuses } ✩

{ ☆ } This is a lovely moment... If Fenton could, he’d want to frame it and hang it up forever. But alas, he has to settle for mental pictures and memorizing the feelings swarming within him as he nestles closer to Dana, soaking in the warmth of his body and company. A hand holding the other man’s, sandwiched between them as fingers intertwine snugly, Fenton’s other is firmly nestled in his coat pocket, trying to keep his digits from feeling as if they’ll snap off at any moment. From the redness on his nose and dusting his cheeks— far more than just the flush of bashfulness covering them —it’s clear that the chilled air is biting, slicing through the small man as if he were as thin as paper.

But in spite of the bracing air, and Fenton’s notorious inability to handle it, there’s nowhere else he’d rather be...

Head ducks sheepishly when his hair is fixed, gaze averting for a moment even as a smile graces his features, soft and obviously giddy- as if moments like these haven’t happened many times before. Cheeks flush darker with color at the compliments and nickname, heart pattering against his chest so enthusiastically that Fenton fears it may burst through, past his thick coat and out into the open for all to witness. Although, the way he rests his cheek against Dana’s arm, burying his face into his coat and snickering like a lovestruck schoolboy, may do this job well enough.

❝  Pffff... Well, I certainly try my best...  ❞  He humbly replies, words muffled against Dana’s coat. Free hand moving to wrap his arm around his partner’s, Fenton hugs Dana’s arm as he peeks up at him. Hazel hues are filled with nothing short of tenderness, as bright as the festive lights covering the buildings around them,  ❝  Of course, it’s easy to feel holiday spirit when around someone as wonderful as you, mi dulce novio~  ❞  Cheek smushed against the taller male’s arm, he gives Dana’s limb a grateful squeeze,  ❝  This is a magical time of year, and it’s even more abundant when in your company.  ❞  

Tone overflowing with enough sappiness to flood a maple tree, words don’t seem any less sincere as Fenton says,  ❝  If I am holiday spirit, then you are the love that sustains it~  ❞  { ☆ }

[ducktales-wco-oo]

“I am the terror that rises with the sun, I am the bed bug that nibbles on flesh of crime, I am your fiancè Drake Mallard!”

In a flash, the taller male appears behind Fenton, the smaller duck who happened to be wearing his pink flannel shirt, which obviously did not belong to him. From his insatiable grin to his oh so dramatic tone, Drake took the pleasure to ham it up as he wrapped his arms around the smaller’s person.

“The crime for stealing my shirt is punishable by morning breath kisses and cuddles.~”

- ✩ { @amaranthinemuses } ✩

{ ☆ } Ever since Fenton was certain Drake didn’t mind if he borrowed his clothes, there was a substantial increase of flannel shirts going missing… Only to be found draped on the small duck, oftentimes messy-haired and bleary-eyed as he stumbles around their home. There’s just something soothing about being enveloped in Drake’s clothes, like being held in his embrace even when not near his fiancè. The comforting feel of the plaid-fabric between his fingers as he fiddles with it, his lover’s scent washing over him, and whenever he sleeps in one of Drake’s shirts, rest comes a bit easier than usual. Dreams are… better.

Yawning as he stretches, back cracking and a small grunt escaping, Fenton blinks sleepily to try and refocus his vision. After a few days of grueling work— both science and hero based —he had finally collapsed into a heap onto the bed for- he doesn’t know how long. Based on how he can STILL barely think, he’s guessing not nearly long enough. But no matter. All he needs is something to eat and a massive energy drink and he’ll be good as ne-

Blinking with surprise at the sudden intrusion, Fenton begins to turn towards the sound of Drake’s voice. But sluggish movements are halted by arms quickly wrapping around him, enticing laughter to bubble out from his chest in melodious glee. Drake’s antics never fail to endear Fenton, soft feathers already puffing to become even more comfortable in the taller male’s embrace, face flushed thanks to his heart’s sped rhythm.  “PFfffffff… Draaaaaaake!” He lightly ‘complains’, wriggling around in the other’s hold, but with NO intention of breaking free. If anything, it’s merely an invitation for Drake to hold him firmer.

“I thought punishments were supposed to discourage further criminal activity.” Fenton quips, angling his head in an attempt to see Drake. Hands moving to hold Drake’s arms, he burrows deeper against him with a content hum. “Frankly, your threat doesn’t sound very effective.” Not one to be deterred by something as minor as ‘morning breath’— as they BOTH can attest, Fenton known for tackling his fiancè with affection as soon as possible —Fenton is ready to eagerly accept this justice with open arms… In fact-

“Honestly, I think I might have just been enticed into a life of crime…” Fenton teasingly adds, lightly booping the underside of Drake’s chin with his beak, “Don’t be surprised if you find yourself missing a substantial amount of shirts.” { ☆ }

[ducktales-wco-oo]

"Hey, it's ok. Easy..." The masked mallard carefully approaches the green hoodied child as to not startle him. He looked really hurt. Riping a piece of his cape to apply a tourniquet to the boy's leg. ( For Louis )  - ✩ { @amaranthinemuses } ✩

{ ☆ } It’s not okay. 

It’s NEVER going to be okay. Nothing is EVER OKAY. That’s what Louis wants to yell. To scream despite the rawness of his throat, voice near-lost from crying out earlier when... it was happening. He wants to cry and scream and fuss and- and do something. Anything to keep the other person away. To make him leave... Please just LEAVE. But he’s frozen, huddled against the brick wall where he’d taken shelter, draped in the shadows of the alley he had managed to hobble to before his leg gave out. Eyes wide and doused in fear as the other approaches, no matter how careful or calm he might be, they mist over with fresh tears the closer the stranger comes... The masked stranger. He’s met masked mallards before. 

Well... A masked mallard.

“N-No...” He weakly croaks, leg scrambling against the concrete— other lying limply on the ground —as he tries to back up further against the wall, bits of brick crumbling to the filthy ground from his frantic movements and blood smearing on concrete as his futile ‘retreat’ exacerbates his injury. “No. Nonononononnonono- Pl-Please, NO...” He doesn’t even know what he’s pleading for the stranger NOT to do, only that he- he doesn’t want it to happen. Whatever it is. He’s- No. He’s had ENOUGH. He doesn’t want to be hurt anymore. 

PLEASE, just- 

“LEAVE ME ALONE!” He finally cries out, voice cracking from the strain of being used. Words claw their way past his throat painfully enough for him to feel as if he should be coughing up blood, trembling hands clawing at his tattered hoodie and pulling his hood over his face. A pathetic shield, but all he has. All he can think of in his panicked state, breathing growing heavy and frantic as heart pounds so fiercely he fears it may rip itself from his chest. Sobs finally breaking free, Louis closes his eyes and hugs himself tightly, tears streaming down a dirt-stained and bruised face as he incoherently pleads-

“Please... N-No more... I don’t- I don’t want... Please...” { ☆ }