#impassiveness

[seldomscilence16]

Whumptober day 11:

"All the lights going dark, and my hopes destroyed"

Animal trap | captivity | "no one will find you."

Fandom: Ducktales

Prompts used: All

Soooo this combines things with Donald in it, meaning small things were changed here and there. Including the whole Webby being April and May and June being clones etc. If you don't know my military headcanons for Donald, I have a chapter explaining it in the 'Dime a Dozen au'. Brief recap is basically he and his team (including Josés older sister) were held captive on their last mission and experimented on. Donald loses feeling in like half his body, and two members on his team. Any questions, don't be afraid to ask!

…

Donald really needed to just, stop trying to do things. Obviously he just wasn't good at it, wasn't made for this world of doers, was cursed to never be able to complete anything. He thinks the only people that were ever able to work with his bad luck without his detriment, were the Caballeros and co. It feels like every other thing he can think of ended badly for him more often than not. And yeah, sometimes that was okay, 'cause it was saving others, but he's so tired.

He had gone on this little trip, by himself, because it was rumored to have exactly what he wanted. When you have a family like his, it was hard to get them gifts. Donald always hated that he couldn't spoil the boys like he wanted to, but he could do better now. And this time, all he needed was the mineral he could supposedly find here. To make a compass for Huey, a boomerang for Dewey, a shield for Louie-and maybe a piece for him to sell, a dagger for Webby, a new leg piece for Della, a handle for José's cane, a new piece for Panchitos guns, and new glasses frames for Uncle Scrooge.

He had a whole plan, was even hoping he'd find excess for a couple extra gifts for one, but of course, why would anything go his way? 

He feels numb, flat on his back staring up at the sky, one leg is bleeding profusely where iron has punctured skin, something he should definitely take care of, but he can't seem to get the gumstion to rise. He wonders what creatures out here would warrant such a trap, and why it was on a path instead of off it, or he wonders until a shadow falls over him and a face comes into view. 

How many times will he almost die before he does? Especially for being a part of his family, or for the friends he has, he should have kept his emo stage and stayed indoors. 

"Hello Mr. Duck." 

John D. Rockerduck had disappeared after the whole FOWL thing went down, along with several other nemesis' of Scrooge. So why wouldn't Donald find him on his first trip alone? He would have preferred Glomgold, he did not typically use traps such as these- though Donald supposed the hired muscle might of- but as it was, he's got a leg clamped in a foothold trap, an old arm injury acting up, and zero quacks to give. 

"Finally I can hit McDuck where it hurts!" 

"Oh? Is your money bin bigger than his?" Donald knows that he's almost never understood, but he'd burst if he kept all his comments to himself.

"Had to be the noisey one though, no matter. Jeeves!" The lumbering half dead butler muscle comes into view, bending down and slinging Donald under his arm with ease. "It's gonna be over for you, and with Scrooge at his weakest, I will finally show the world who's better!" 

Laughable really. But Rockerduck can think what he wants, Donald can at least envision his face when he realizes he's failed once again at Scrooge's hands, even if he doesnt get to actually see it. 

Panch and Zé had worried about him going alone, worried about his mindset and all that. He can see why now, laying limp in an enemy's arm, leg useless, feeling less than spectacular. He should be angry, fighting, screaming nonsensical barbs… wow, it's a rare state to find him feeling meh without the anger. 

"Say hello to your new home!"

 

Before he can even look up and make a snip about free real estate, he's airborne with an undignified squawk. He sees smooth dirt on all sides for several long moments before he lands with a thump- only years of falling that keeps him from braining himself, though his body would still bite back with a 'hurts like heck'. 

"If you try and get out, I'd keep an eye out for the night beast the locals are all chatting about. Oh and don't worry, no one will find you. Bye Bye!" Donald can hardly make out his silhouette above him, hole so deep the light barely creeps all the way down.

With both his legs, it probably wouldn't be too hard, Donald has gotten out of worse, but with his leg as it is itd take awhile, and he would rather not take his chances if there is a night beast. One could argue it's not laziness if he's avoiding a larger problem. 

Ah, is that where Louie's brain goes? 

Well, if he dies here, his family will surely kill him again for dying so soon after his last almost death with the whole FOWL thing. Maybe Duckworth would let him stay with him? 

Deciding to be semi productive in the meantime, Donald grasps at the two springs on the trap and pushes down as hard as he's able, moving his leg diagonally and hissing as it pulls free. Casually ripping his sleeve off he binds his leg as best he can, grateful it didn't get to the bone breaking part. This is certainly not nearly as bad as his time in the Navy. 

He leans back against the compact dirt wall, cool and damp as the heat of the day fades. But with the fading heat goes the sunlight, and his hole is slowly filling with shadows. He and the moon may not be on the best of terms, but he wouldn't mind its light right about now. 

He jinxed himself, he should know better by now really. Shaking his head, curling closer to himself to keep warm, All the lights going dark, and his hopes destroyed once again. He'd just wanted to make his family some gifts. It was just supposed to be a nice easy trip. 

How long would he wait this time? Would they look for him? Was the effort of getting out even worth it? He scratches absently at the wall, only to catch on something solid. Curiosity piqued and reaching through the bars of his mind, he put more effort into his scratching, revealing exactly what he'd come here for. 

What irony, to be thrown in a hole where his objective was waiting. His laugh is on the edge of hysterics, as he finds his time occupied with digging. Filling a makeshift bag- his undershirt sacrificed for the duty- full of the material, he uses the gouges as hand and foot holds. 'Look at me being productive and stuff, ha!' 

Just as he reaches the ledge, thinking just maybe he could brush all this off and pretend it didn't happen, a growl echoes around him. He groans, dragging his leg over the ledge like the dead weight it is, and lays there for a moment. He ponders staying there vs running- or well hobbling- and ultimately his hard earned loot wins out. He rolls, momentums himself into a standing position, balancing on one foot. He glares at the nature around him and the dumb moon that still evades his vision and leaves his surroundings annoyingly shadowy. 

Before he can get his first embarrassing hop going, the growling is right behind him, echoed by a scottish accented response. He turns an unimpressed head to find Scrooge and Della on a bear of all things.

"Donald!" 

"That's a bear." Donald states it, hoping to remind them of their mortality- however vague it may be. 

"Bah, I speak bear lad, dinnae worry about it." 

"Uh, but maybe worry about your leg, or we'll be twinning from head to toe!" Dellas' flashlight aims right at him and he shields his eyes with a glare.

"Rockerduck is on his way to the mansion." 

"Oh good, Webby's been wanting to test the new defenses. Get on lad, we'll get ye home." 

"I was rescuing myself." Donald says, making his way around the bear cautiously, weird hop not even causing the animal to flinch. 

"We should have been here sooner, we'll do better, no more rescue worthy scenarios!" Della heaves him up, and Donald can see her worry up close. 

A strange thing, what ten years and several life or death scenarios can do to a relationship. Did they care before? Maybe.

He looks at them as they make their way towards the awaiting plane. 

Are they working on it now? 

Yeah… maybe they are.

[dumbassv32]

how does he eat . . .

[alcrego]

Impasse

At MakersPlace

[sualne]

morning routines and old man cuddles

[sheikfangirl]

During the events of Tears of the Kingdom, Link is so tired, sleep deprived, gloom poisoned, unhinged and filthy...He is devoid of what makes Link himself: his warmth, his humor...

And that's why no one in Hyrule but his close friends recognizes him💔

-----------------

Note: I know it's Linktober but life got in the way and gave up at "mirror prompt". I'm busy and whatever free time i got goes on Echoes of Wisdom (which i ADORE btw) So please accept this random doodle from my folder 😘

ALSO: I was overwhelmed with the positive reaction to my FF8 inspired Zelda and Hero's shade reunion. Seems like the Internet loves bittersweet angst as much as i do. And YES, there's a sequel in progress ;) I was already drawing it when i posted my first batch of panels.

Cheers!

[chronic-optimistt]

okay so andriel is like the exact opposite of an insufferable couple. but they do partake in one singular typical insufferable couple activity. footsies. i’ll go to war over this take

like these bitches cannot be sitting across from each other without commencing in full out combat between their shoes. there is no mercy. keeping to ourselves like normal people? nah! let’s put our partners calf in a chokehold! first to cut off the circulation wins!

[tinartss]

the dan and phil of tevyat‼️

request for the haikavetham gotcha for gaza! thank you anon for your donation and also for enabling my brainrot. we are on the same wavelength 

[dlartistanon]

Why does Blaze routinely fall for the most emotionally unavailable women

[csainzzz]

mama piastri telling a story about a minor bike accident they had once that had Oscars heart race peaking as hell (he had a heart monitor on) and yet he only reacted by asking "are you ok?" VS everytime Carlos riled him up on track

[pleuvoire]

please just ONE discussion about people's varying level of social/sex life on this site without the slightest hint of condescending insulting language just ONE. i'm BEGGING

[demonking-propaganda]

Happy birthday Iruma! 💙

Just a reminder that today would be Iruma's birthday IRL, and an appreciation post for one of the best protagonists out there, who found his true family after much suffering.

Cw: Spoilers for volume 21 under the cut.

Chapter 183 (volume 21) is one of the chapters that make me cry every time I read them. As someone who unfortunately has experienced familial abuse, especially linked to my birthday, seeing Iruma's loved ones coming together to celebrate him and be thankful for his existence is something indescribable.

I'll let the art speak for itself, because that's very much my state every time I turn the previous page lmao:

I love him 🥺 so happy for you, buddy!

[owenbroadcast]

[polutrope]

Why Amrod, not Amras, is Telufinwë (and why this is so confusing)

Right, in the Silmarillion "Amrod and Amras" always are listed in that order and the family tree at the back lists them in that order, so we assume Amrod is the older twin and Amras the younger.

We therefore assume that the Quenya fathernames Pityafinwë (Little Finwë) and Telufinwë (Last Finwë) belong to Amrod and Amras respectively. Fair enough.

But! The names Pityafinwë and Telufinwë are not published Silmarillion canon. They come from The Shibboleth of Fëanor, and in that essay Amrod is the younger twin.

And it's not just arbitrary. The fact of him being youngest is a significant detail about the tragic story of his death at Losgar, also in that essay. Amrod is the Sindarisation of Ambarto, which is the name Fëanor (wilfully?) misheard when Nerdanel said Umbarto (Fated). He's the precious baby twin, the Last Finwë, the one she begs Fëanor to leave with her, and who burns.

Does it matter if you're not following Crispy Amrod canon? I mean, not reeeeally... but it matters to me because the source of the Quenya names does reverse their birth order. And he's my Telvo.

[fisheito]

is he a wise mentor or just jealous

[prettyboykatsuki]

my truest and sincerest opinion about writing is that if you want to develop a passion you must write something incredibly and unbearably niche at least once and i mean this. you need to have an almost fetishistic and primal desire towards a man in a fandom with 12 fics in his ao3 and 9 of them are crossovers. you need to let your lust and affection drive you to the depths of earth itself and write your most beautiful soul-crushing gut-wrenching work of an audience of ten. you need to think and be delusional to what feels like a brick wall and tear your meat asunder trying to become sane. after you've seen all nine circles of insane delusion 2d man lust can your fic writing prosper. you will come out of the other side better for it

[kaiserouo]

them dating in impasse