#the great dime chase

[best-ducktales-episode]

ROUND #1

[secret-tester]

Ahh!! Im sooooo scared presenting my project in the next day!!!

[wherefancytakesme]

“What is it doing?”

[hueberryshortcake]

not to post about therapy because that's intensely personal and for my own wellbeing I probably shouldn't publicly talk about it too much BUT. my therapist opens the door to his office. and the first thing he says to me is "I have a question ONLY YOU can answer." and I say "is it the question of why your hoodie is so awesome." and he says no but thank you. no. "I need to know. should my six year old watch the new ducktales or the old ducktales"

[chillaxzmadudesz]

HELLO SO I MADE ANOTHER COMIC

this time with animated gifs!

im still working on my animation skills

kind of self-taught actually

so i dont really expect it to be the prettiest

anyways the because i still cannot draw ducks even when i tried

im still working on it

so i drew them as characters without noses

its ... again kinda crappy

i had something better and less rushed visioned in mind, you could say

but its always like that

so its like... its whatever y'know

[peachdues]

BIRTHDAY SURPRISES — NSFW

Sanemi Shinazugawa x Reader

A/N: there is nothing redeemable about this. It’s just 7.9k words of pure filth in honor of my man’s birthday.

My husband got a boner reading this, so enjoy you whores.

CW: MDNI • Explicit sexual content • daddy!kink • elevator blowjobs • creampies • rough sex • kinky sex • brat-taming/mild dumbification • overstimulation • fluff at the end followed by more smut • not proof read lmao

Sanemi Shinazugawa has never liked the month of November.

For starters, the stupid month can’t decide what damn season it wants to be. It’s somehow too cold to really qualify as autumn and the leaves have usually fallen to the ground, brown and dead and useless, but it’s also still too warm to snow.

And November is such a tease — smack dab between two great holidays yet offering nothing but a restlessness that persists until the end of the year.

So no, Sanemi Shinazugawa isn’t fond of this time of year. But the universe has never shied away from giving him the middle finger, so Sanemi supposes he shouldn’t be surprised his birthday falls during such a bullshit month like November.

He’d been content to spend the day of his birth like he did every other year — hunkered down in his apartment with some cheap takeout, alone, without anyone to make a big fuss about it. That was the plan — his goddamn plan.

So how the fuck did he end up here?

The “here” in question is a suite at one of the city’s most exclusive hotels. The room is stuffed full of faces, some familiar but most not, packed together like sardines. The music is loud and pulsing and it threatens to give him a nasty headache.

It was Tengen who convinced him to allow this — though, Sanemi doesn’t suppose he was given much of a choice in the matter. But his friend group learned of his impending birthday a few weeks earlier, and before Sanemi could level a few, well-backed threats against any party planning, Tengen had booked the massive suite in which he now found himself, and promised Sanemi that he wouldn’t have to buy a single drink.

Sanemi agreed only on the condition that he be allowed to book a separate hotel room — several floors below where this godforsaken party now raged.

At least Tengen had meant it when he promised Sanemi wouldn’t have to spend a dime on alcohol. He took care to run up his friend’s tab by ordering several shots of Grey Goose, throwing them back as easily as water.

Hey, it was his birthday, after all.

The hotel suite is a blur of lights and colors and bodies pressed together in dark corners. Truthfully, Sanemi really can’t find any one thing to pay attention to; it’s ironic that this party is supposedly for him, and yet he feels like the most invisible person in the room.

But then he spots you — beautiful, witty, and charming you — seated in the lounge area, surrounded by both shared friends and strangers, and it’s like a spotlight has been pointed directly at you. All else seems to fall away, recessing into the shadows of the room, and his attention is locked solely on you; the star of the show that is his birthday party.

The feelings swirling in Sanemi’s chest are dangerous; lethal. He knows he should look away and accept the fact that you, with your endless pick of eligible women and men, would never deign to chase after someone like him, someone with as many scars on his heart as are seared into his skin. He knows that. He knows he’s only setting himself up to get more pissed off — to hate his birthday more than he already does.

But he can’t stop watching you.

And even if he could, he doesn’t want to. He’s only been in love with you since the moment Shinobu tugged you into a booth at a bar they all frequented. There hadnt really been any room for you to sit — not with seven of them already packed tightly onto the bench — but you’d taken one look at him and grinned, something that could only be described as mischief lighting your eyes.

“You don’t mind if I sit here, do you?” You’d asked him sweetly as you plopped your ass right down on his lap. “You look like you’re the comfiest one here.”

Sanemi, who was known for having a quick temper and an even quicker mouth, had been stunned into silence by the presence of a beautiful woman, perched on his knee like it was the most natural thing to sit on a stranger’s lap. His friends had been hard-pressed to suppress their smirks at the way Sanemi gaped at the back of your head, and he was fairly certain it was because you’d been so ballsy that you’d secured a permanent spot in their weekly bar rotation.

That had been over a year ago, and Sanemi’s infatuation with you grew deeper by the day.

Not that he’d ever done anything about it — even though, at times, it felt like you were all but baiting him into acting on his feelings. He wanted to believe the way your eyes followed him wherever he went in a room meant something, that your lingering touches were an invitation for more, but he could never bring himself to find out.

That cowardice, he supposed bitterly, was exactly what led him here, sitting alone at the suite room bar, watching as countless others flirted with you and you, right back.

A few times your eyes had tracked him across the room; one time, you looked as though you were about to push through the throng of people shoved into Tengen’s suite to come talk to him, but a hand on your bicep caught you and diverted your attention.

It’s then that Sanemi snaps. The moment he watches as the asshole in question pulls you against him for a slow grind, that jealous, monstrous thing in his chest rears its ugly head, growling and gnawing to be let free.

He’d hoped, for one pathetic moment, that you would push the man away, shake your head, do something that indicated you weren’t the least bit interested in him, no matter how fascinating his multi-colored eyes were, or how charming his feral grin was, but you didn’t. And the moment he sees the douchebag pull your hips flush against his, Sanemi knows he needs to get some air.

So with less grace than he knows he probably should show, Sanemi shoves his way towards the door leading out the suite and into the hallway.

Fuck it, he decides. He would go back to his room, several floors below, take a shower and hit the fucking hay. His birthday was bullshit, anyways.

He storms towards the elevators, slightly tipsy and certainly angry. He stabs a finger against the down button, his leg bouncing as he waits for the elevator to come and save him from his own party.

“What’re you doing out here, birthday boy?”

His stomach sinks to his ass at the familiar cadence of the voice behind him. Reluctantly, he turns and sees you making your way down the hallway wall, a smirk on your pretty lips and looking downright sinful in that flimsy, silvery dress that barely reaches the middle of your thighs.

That damn elevator can’t come fast enough.

“Go back to the party,” he says tightly, though he still won’t look you directly in the eyes. “Don’t let me interrupt your good time.”

You draw up short. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sanemi only scoffs and jabs frustratingly at the elevator button, willing for the telltale ding that will allow him to step into the lift and get far the fuck away from this rager he didn’t want.

From you.

“What’s wrong with you? Did something happen?” You push, resuming your advance on him and shortening the space between your bodies. “Sanemi —“

“Save it,” Sanemi bites, and because he cannot help himself, he adds, “I just don’t particularly feel like watching you spread your legs for some lowlife asshole who can’t be bothered to remember your name.”

You blink, comprehension dawning on your face before melting to anger. “That’s what you’re so pissy about?”

Sanemi silently begs the elevator to hurry the fuck up, because now you’re only a few feet away from him and he doesn’t want you to see his fraying restraint.

You fold your arms across your chest, hip jutting out to the side. “You’re acting like a bitch because some jackass tried to grind on me? Why do you even care?”

Sanemi dodges your question with ease.

“You’re the one who fuckin’ followed me out here.”

The elevator dings and Sanemi is damn near falling to his knees in gratitude at its timing. The double sliding doors have barely finished opening before he’s already inside, jamming his finger into the button marked 26, praying it’ll move faster than it arrived.

The doors start to close but a pair of hands slam against both sides of the doorway, preventing them from joining in the middle.

You stand in the center of the threshold, eyes bright and nostrils flaring, the elevator doors half-closed around you.

“It wasn’t easy to throw this party together y’know,” you snap at him, and dully, Sanemi thinks the glare you give him is strong enough to wither plants. “Everyone went out of their way to try and make you feel special, but you’ve been nothing but an asshole about it.”

“I didn’t ask you all to do this — I begged you not to,” Sanemi retorts just as hotly, his arms folding across his chest. “I didn’t want a fuckin’ party.”

“Well, what do you want?”

the silence that stretches between you is more telling than any answer he could have given. By the way your lips part, you seem to realize it at the same moment he does, and that’s when Sanemi knows he’s fucked.

The two of you stare at one another for a moment, the weight of Sanemi’s unspoken admission hanging above your heads like the sword of Damocles.

But then, the blade drops, and it must impale you both, because suddenly your hands fall from the elevator doors and are tangling in his hair at the same moment Sanemi’s fingers latch onto your waist, and your mouths slam together in a fiery clash of lips and teeth.

The elevator doors slide shut behind you right as Sanemi presses you up against the paneled wall and slides his tongue into your mouth.

At the first stroke of his tongue against yours, you tense, and for one panicked moment, he fears he’s gone too far. But then you’re melting against him, and the way you tug on his hair and whimper his name against his lips makes Sanemi loses his goddamn mind.

Time stands still and there are no thoughts in Sanemi’s brain but the feel of your hands running down his arms, his chest, pushing under the open collar of his shirt to dance along his burning skin.

They can’t get to the 26th floor fast enough, no matter how fast the numbers tick past, bringing them closer and closer to privacy —

The elevator jolts to a stop, somewhere between the 29th and 28th floors, and does not move.

It’s just his fucking luck; the girl of his dreams is pressed flush against him, her lips at his ear as she begs for him, and the goddamn elevator has forgotten how to work. If his hands weren’t so busy pushing under the hem of that slip you call a dress to fondle the curve of your ass, he might’ve put a hole through the one of the doors.

He punches the button for the 26th floor again and again, his sanity fraying with each urgent jab of his fingers, yet the elevator still does not move.

If the idea that the pair of you are stranded in a metal box of death suspended over twenty stories high bothers you, Sanemi wouldn’t be able to tell — not when you’ve decided to turn your attention someplace else.

“What’re you —“ Sanemi’s voice is hardly more than a croak as your hands busy themselves with the buckle on his belt, fumbling and tugging until the leather fastened around his hips gives way.

“Shhh!” A press of your index finger to his lips silences him. “Birthday boys shouldn’t worry!”

Your fingers hook under the waistband of his pants and suddenly they’re following you down as you slide to your knees before him.

Sanemi’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head at the way your half-lidded gaze drifts from his face down his body, coming to rest on the tent of his briefs, jutting out from between his thighs.

Your voice is syrupy and warm as you whisper, “I guess I should let you have your first gift,”

Sanemi forgets how to breathe when you peer back up at him, your eyes suddenly round and wide; he nearly forgets how to stand when you lean forward and press your cheek against the side of his cock where it strains against his underwear.

Sanemi sucks in sharply through clenched teeth at the sudden rush of cold elevator air against the heated, sensitive skin of his bare cock, your fingers having tugged him free from the confines of his briefs.

“F-first?” He can’t stop the way the question stutters out, not when your lips, just barely gazing against him, drag from his base to his tip. The soft exhale of your warm breath up his length has his hands shooting behind him for something — anything — to grip.

You hum in confirmation, and Sanemi’s vision almost blacks out when your tongue peeks past your glossy, red-stained lips to trail over his leaking head.

“But you’ll have to wait ‘til we get to your room before you can unwrap the next one.”

Sanemi swears he’ll set the entire hotel building on fire if the elevator doesn’t start working in the next fucking minute. His vicious promise, however, fades to the back of his mind, along with every other coherent thought he’s ever had as your lips part around his head and you take him into your mouth.

“Holy fuck,” Sanemi hisses and his head falls back against the elevator wall with a dull thump.

You him pleasantly around his cock and Sanemi nearly cums right there, the vibrations from your mouth too sweet, adding gasoline to the already raging inferno of his desire.

At first, you keep your hands primly folded behind you, only allowing your mouth to work his shaft. Every time you slide up off him, you curl your tongue against the underside of his cock and every time, Sanemi has to draw upon every morsel of self-restraint he possesses to not buck further down your throat.

But soon, your hands pat their way to his, and you bring his hands against either side of your head. You hold them there for only a moment, just long enough for Sanemi’s stomach to flip as he realizes what you’re giving him permission to do.

You peer up at him with those big eyes, so wide and deceptively innocent, and he knows you’re trying to kill him.“Motherfucking — Y/N,” he moans, threading his fingers through your hair. “Fuck.”

With his grip in your hair secure, Sanemi begins to fuck your mouth. His cock slides in and out of your heat, every push shoving a little more of himself further into your mouth. You only relax your throat, your tongue still curling against the underside of his shaft in a way that makes Sanemi see white.

Sanemi’s hold on your hair tightens. “Fucking take it,” he pants, hips bucking against your face. “My little cock whore.” From his position over you, Sanemi can see the way his words make you squirm with need, your answering moan long, and deep.

Your hands flutter to the side of his thighs, and Sanemi almost winces at the prick of your nails against his skin. But despite the saliva steadily trailing down your chin and the guttural sounds choking in the back of your throat, you’re tugging him closer, your fingers inching around to grip his backside, pressing him closer and closer to you until your nose brushes his groin.

The elevator jolts with movement and resumes its descent, but neither of you notice. All Sanemi can focus on his the way his tip bumps against the back of your throat, and how your cheeks hollow against him as he ruts into your mouth.

Sanemi makes a strangled noise in the vague shape of your name. “I-I’m gonna —“

You only need to swallow around him once before Sanemi is filling your throat with his cum. With a deep groan, his head drops back, his hand splayed across the back of your skull, keeping your nose pressed against his base as he rocks his hips, his cock twitching violently in your mouth.

His eyes fly open when he feels the wetness from your tears against the sensitive skin of his groin, and he’s quick to pull out of your mouth. Your hands bracing against his thighs as you gulp down air in heavy, shuddering gasps.

“Fuck — I’m sorry,” his hands smooth worryingly over your hair. “That was too rough, I’m so fuckin’ sorry-“

Your head snaps up, and Sanemi feels a brief moment of panic at the sight of your mascara, streaked down your cheeks from an onslaught of tears. Bht then you’re smiling at him, a big, triumphant, radiant smile, and Sanemi feels almost as dumb in the head as he had when your mouth was around his cock.

The elevator slows and Sanemi hastily tucks himself back into his pants. The moment his belt is refastened, his hand is on your arm, gently guiding you up to stand right as a ding! sounds, and the doors slide open to reveal the 26th floor.

You step out first, turning back to him expectantly. “Well? What room?”

Sanemi’s heart falls to his ass as he beholds the assured confidence blazing in your eyes. “2602,” he manages to croak.

You tug him out of the elevator and for a few moments, he’s dumbstruck by his good fortune. It almost feels like a dream, that your here, leading him down the winding hallway of this oversized and overpriced hotel, eager to get back to his room and do whatever the hell it is that’s lit that fire in your eyes.

Sanemi’s awe is short-lived, replaced by a crashing wave of need and boiling desire, hot and furiously bubbling under his skin. His hand tightens around yours and he jerks you around, spinning you until you’re caged tightly between the hallway wall and his chest.

His mouth attacks your neck, biting and sucking his claim into your skin, no matter how temporary. Your leg hikes up to hook around his hips, your foot pressed against his calf, and it seems neither of you care that you’re very much still on an open hallway as opposed to the privacy of his hotel room.

“I’m not holding back with you,” he whispers against the hollow of your throat. His hands slide hotly down your sides, fingers toying under the absurdly short hem of your dress, kneading just beneath the curve of your ass. “You asked me what I wanted — I want this. You.”

Your sultry giggle in his ear chokes off as Sanemi’s finger dips under your ass from behind to run firmly over your clothed slit. A breathy fuck falls from his lips as he feels the wetness seeping through the fabric of your underwear.

“That’s your main gift,” you’re tugging on his hair again until you’ve pulled him away from your throat so that you can slant your mouth over his. “Me. However you want me.”

You take his bottom lip between your teeth and suck, and Sanemi swears he’s died and gone to heaven. “As many times as you want.”

“And in whatever positions you want.”

Sanemi has never been a particularly religious man, but he thinks he’s about one nanosecond from dropping to his knees in worship of you.

Sanemi wastes no time in hauling you over his shoulder, throwing any and all cares to the wind of being seen as he slaps your ass and books the remaining trek back to his hotel room. Youre lucky his room is only around the corner, given that you won’t stop groping his ass.

Somehow, Sanemi manages to fumble for his keycard and swipes it, and he has you inside his room and pushed up against the door before it even fully latches shut.

You’re moaning and panting just from his hands, and Sanemi can feel himself already growing hard once more. His lips are feverish as they roam from your lips, to your neck, and down to the hem of your dress concealing your soft breasts from sight. His hands are even greedier, bunching the tissue-paper-like fabric of you dress between his fingers as he explores the curves and dips of your body.

“God you feel so fucking good,” he mutters against your lips between kisses. “I can’t get enough of you.”

From the way your hands drag down his chest, fingers sliding between the undone buttons of his shirt to explore his chest, he knows you’re just as starved as he is.

With a slight whine, you push him back, breaking your kiss. Sanemi looks at you, but the question building on his tongue does as you kick your heels off, your fingers flying to the straps of your dress.

Sanemi feels locked in place by the heat of your gaze, and he swears he can feel his pulse tick in his neck. One by one, you push the straps of your dress from your shoulders, letting the satiny material fall down your waist and puddle around your feet.

If Sanemi thought he was losing his mind before, he knows for certain that he likely needs to be committed now.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Sanemi’s stare is unabashed and gaping. For beneath that flimsy scrap of shiny fabric pretending to be a dress was not your bare skin, but dark green lace and mesh and corset paneling.

A teddy.

You twist slightly so you’re looking over your shoulder, fully exposing your ass and the thong-like back of your one-piece to the slack-jawed birthday boy.

“I figured you would like this one.”

Your words knock Sanemi right off his axis, his head spinning so fast, it’s a miracle it’s still attached to his shoulders.

You’d worn fucking lingerie for his party.

For him.

You’d gone out of your way to wear something you thought he would like on the mere chance you’d end up as you were now, here in his room. You’d planned for it.

You didn’t leave him any other choice; he was going to fucking ruin you.

His hand flies behind his neck to grip his shirt, ripping it over his head and throwing it unceremoniously to the side.

Sanemi doesn’t fail to notice the way your tongue darts out to wet your lips, your pupils blowing wide at the sight of the sculpted planes of his chest and abdomen.

He kicks off his shoes and his hands shove his pants quickly down his legs, grateful that he hadn’t bothered to refasten his belt or button after the stunt you pulled in the elevator.

“C’mere,” he orders, roughly. Left in just his black briefs, he lunges forward to take you into his arms once more.

Your peal of laughter as Sanemi throws you onto his king-sized hotel bed is the prettiest thing he’s ever heard. He wastes no time pouncing on you, eager to reconnect your lips, to kiss you until you’re left as breathless and wanting as he is.

Between messy kisses, Sanemi’s hands make their way down your body, squeezing and marveling at the way your body seems made for his touch. And as if the feeling of your skin beneath his palms isn’t enough to drive him wild, you’re so responsive to his touch. Every stroke of his hands seems to bring you alive until you’re practically thrumming with want and begging him for more.

His fingers slide over your lace-covered cunt and he swears at the dampness he feels clean through the fabric of your teddy.

“Eager, are we?” He hums, his lips following down the path he traced with his hands. “Tell me what you need, sweetheart.”

Your hips buck impatiently against him as his face settles between your thighs. He grins at your desperation, trailing open-mouthed kisses across your inner thigh until he reaches your covered slit.

He lets his tongue peek out between his lips and drags it over until he reaches your other thigh, groaning at the faint taste of you dampening the lace.

Sanemi’s fingers push under the edge of the teddy, a breath blowing past his lips when he connects with your dripping cunt.

“Look how fucking soaked you are,” he says in awe, marveling the way your slick coats his fingers. “Is this all for me?”

You groan, pushing your hips down to grind harder against his hand.

“Just fuck me already,” you huff. “I’m ready now.”

Sanemi tsks softly at you. “You need to ask a lot nicer than that, sweet girl.”

Your impatient demands taper off into soft moans as Sanemi sinks a single finger into your entrance, his cock growing impossibly hard at the feeling of you clenching easily around him.

Sanemi practically trembles at the thought of sinking into your heat, of how you might feel clenching and pulsing around his length while he fucks you the way he’s been dreaming since he met you.

But while he might be pent up, Sanemi isn’t so much of an asshole that he wouldn’t make sure you were good and ready to take him.

So he simply tugs the crotch of your teddy aside and without any further teasing or torture, he latches his mouth to your cunt with a deep moan.

As his tongue darts between your folds, Sanemi realizes that all the cake in the world couldn’t compare to how fucking sweet your pussy tastes.

You cry out, his name stuttering out between a staccato of moans and cooes for more. Your hands twist in his hair, alternating between pulling his face closer to your core and pushing him away, the pleasure almost too much for you to bear.

Sanemi thinks he could get drunk on your taste. His eyes open to watch the way your face pinches, how your jaw goes slack to let his name drip from your tongue.

Your hands unwind from his hair to tug at the sinful draping of lace fitted against your body like a glove. “Off,” you whimper. “Off.”

It takes him a moment to realize what you want. But after another plea of “off,” Sanemi’s hands are already working to push the teddy down your lithe form.

“I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you,” he soothes, dragging the lingerie off your legs. Sanemi swears softly at the sight of you, bare and spread out on his mattress, your body pliant and ready for him to use however he chooses.

“S-Sanemi,” he can’t suppress his grin at the apparent whine in your tone. “I feel so — so empty —“

He doesn’t try to hold in the groan resounding deep from his chest. Youre asking — practically begging — for his cock, and Sanemi doesn’t have the willpower to deny you.

“Fuck this,” he snarls, and suddenly your body is caged under his, his hips slotting perfectly into the cradle of your thighs. “I need to be in you.”

His lips dance feverishly up the side of your neck until they reconnect with yours.

For a moment, your kiss slows to something more sensual and passionate, as opposed to the heated and frantic kisses you’d exchanged earlier. The sigh you exhale against his mouth is the sexiest thing Sanemi has ever heard, and the feeling of your fingers latching in his hair is a sensation he never wants to forget.

Your tongue swipes along his lower lip in a silent request for entry that he’s only too happy to grant. You moan against the taste of yourself on his tongue.

Sanemi knows he’s been head over heels for you for a long time, but the way your tongue dances languidly with his has him utterly undone.

If you wanted to, he’d let you swallow him whole.

Your kiss melts into something more needy and frantic, and Sanemi feels your wetness grind down against his thigh, a pleading whimper building on your lips. With an eagerness that makes his head spin, your legs shift to lock around his waist, and one of the hands you’d had latched in his hair drifts down his abdomen until it finds his cock, heavy and hot in your palm.

“I’ve got a condom —“ Sanemi manages between desperate kisses. “In my wallet —“

But your legs tighten around his hips and your hand pumps harder at his stiffened length. “Don’t need it,” you murmur against his lips. “On the pill.”

Sanemi thinks he might pass out. “Fuck — are you sure?”

You nod, eyes bright and alert even in spite of your sleepy, fucked-out smile. “Wanna feel you, baby.”

Don’t have to fucking tell him twice. Especially not when you’re calling him baby, even if it’s a pet name you’ll only use on him for the night.

With deft hands, Sanemi flips you so that your front is pressed against the mattress. You scramble beneath him to plant your knees, raising your ass high in the air, your cunt held out in an offering he could never refuse.

He gives one of your pert ass cheeks an appreciative smack before he shuffles forward on his knees. He rests one foot on the outside of your leg, parallel with your hip, and slots his other knee between your parted thighs. One hand grips the base of his cock while the other kneads at your hip, holding you steady while also keeping your limbs relaxed as he lines his tip up with your dripping entrance.

“Unless you say otherwise, ‘M goin’ hard,” he warns, his voice rougher than gravel. “Been waiting too long to do this.”

Ever the devilish little minx, you wiggle your hips back against him, and his breath chokes in his throat when your wet heat catches him at his tip.

You look back over your shoulder and Sanemi’s gaze darkens at the challenge in your eyes. “Give me everything you’ve got.”

Sanemi decides to respond to your taunt not with his words, but with his body. In a single, fluid movement, he plunges his cock deep into your heated core, his fingers tightening around your hips with bruising force.

“Jesus fuck,” he pants once he’s fully embedded to the hilt inside your warmth.

It’s unreal; the feeling of your silken, pleasure-soaked walls moulding around his cock like you were made to take him sends a bolt lightning surging down his spine, making him shudder.

A cross between a cry and a scream tears from your throat, muffled only by the press of your mouth against the starchy blankets of his hotel bed. He’s about to ask if you’re okay, if you want him to go slow for a bit since he knows he’s a larger than average. but then you’re throwing your hips back against him, circling and grinding and mewling for more.

“Fuck me,” you moan. “Fuck me, Sanemi — please.”

“God fucking damn,” Sanemi hisses through clenched teeth. And he knows he can’t deny you, not when your whining so prettily for him; nor when your pussy feels this fucking good.

He draws back, his cock sliding out of you until only his tip remains. He lingers there, for just a hair’s breadth of a moment, teasing.

Your impatient whine doesn’t last long as Sanemi slams you back onto him, the sound choking off in your throat. He doesn’t give you time to recover; he digs his fingers into the flesh of your hips and drives his cock into you again and again, pounding a relentless rhythm into you that has you sobbing into the mattress.

“Yes, yes, yes!” You blubber, your fingers fisted into the blankets below for purchase as you push yourself back to meet his frenzied thrusts.

Sanemi can’t tear his eyes away from where his cock, shiny with your wetness, disappears in and out of you. “You’re taking me so fuckin’ well,” he says in awe. Your pussy is gripping him like a vice, practically sucking him back into your heat. “You like letting me use you, huh?”

Sanemi shifts so that his weight is on the knee resting beside your leg, allowing him to push harder and deeper into your cunt. You try to lift your head, but Sanemi’s hand leaves its place on your hip to press down on the back of your neck, squeezing lightly.

“Oh f-fuck,” you groaned, voice slightly muffled from where your face was half-pressed into the mattress. “Oh god — just like that — D-daddy, yes —“

Sanemi’s hips stutter. Daddy. No one has ever called him that in the bedroom before, but fuck if it doesn’t somehow make him harder than a fucking diamond.

Especially because it seems like it slipped out of you without much thought, your eyes too busy staring at the back of your skull as every punishing thrust of Sanemi’s cock into your pliant cunt makes your body bounce against the mattress.

He likes it. A lot.

“Should’ve known you’d have a daddy kink, filthy little thing,” he groans, his hand reaching under you to toy with your swollen clit.

You only moan in response, and Sanemi can’t help but to swirl his fingers around that nub, savoring the way it makes your thighs quiver beneath you.

The hand still pressing against the back of your neck slides up to grip your hair, and Sanemi pulls your head up from the bed. “Do you call everyone ‘daddy,’ sweetness, or just those who fuck you the way you like it?”

“Not everyone” you gasp, voice strained against the tight arch of your neck. “Just you — ah! Only you.”

With a growl, Sanemi’s arm locks around your middle and hauls you up until your back is flush against his chest. One hand wraps around your jaw, his fingers squeezing your cheeks to keep your head back as he continues pounding into you.

“Look at you,” his exhales hotly against your ear, his teeth grazing your lobe. “Daddy’s pretty little toy.”

Your thighs quake in their effort to keep you up. Your moans raise an octave, warbling out of your throat as you settle heavily against him, utterly helpless against the pleasure rolling through your body.

Sanemi’s hand drops from your jaw to drag teasingly down your torso. When he reaches your lower belly, he presses his palm flat, the pressure allowing the blunt head of his cock to rub against that sensitive spot that makes you sing his name.

“You feel that, baby?” And the whine that slips out of you is one he wishes he could bottle up. “That’s all me — that’s how deeply I’m fucking you.”

He’s practically holding you up, your limbs little more than jelly, but he doesn’t mind. He only increases the pressure of his hand, rubbing slightly over the softness of your stomach.

“And that’s where I’m gonna fill you up, ‘til you’re nice and full, hm?”

A stilted cry of his name is dragged from your lips, and Sanemi swears he’d marry you tomorrow, if you’d let him.

It’s not lost on him that this is likely a one-time thing; that you’ll likely leave his hotel room and the two of you won’t speak of it again, but he can’t find it within himself to give a shit.

It doesn’t matter if this is just a slightly drunken hook up — it doesn’t matter to him if it’s just sex. You’re letting him use your body for his pleasure, and that thought is enough to make his brain turn to liquid between his ears.

Sanemi falls back against the bed, bringing you with him, your back still pressed against his chest. He winds an arm around one of your thighs, holding it open to allow himself to continue fucking up into you with the speed of a racehorse.

“God you’re so fuckin’ tight — don’t want me to leave, do you, precious?”

He chuckles in your ear, catching your lobe between his teeth. His hand wedges between your thighs to play with your clit again, and the way your pussy flutters around him signals that you’re right on the precipice of your orgasm.

The first of the night, if he had anything to say about it.

“Maybe I should make you my own personal cocksleeve — would you like that, sweetheart?” You’re mewling, nodding frantically as you squirm and thrash atop him.

“Would you like to sit on Daddy’s cock all day, keep him nice and warm?”

“Yes!” You sob, and Sanemi’s fingers circle your clit even harder, determined to to make you cum. “Yes, ‘Nemi, please! I’ll be your good girl — I’ll be so good —“

Sanemi’s pace falters slightly at your words, a new idea — a wicked idea, forming fast in his mind. “You will, huh?”

He abruptly pulls out of you, though the anguished cry that rattles out of you at the loss of his warmth tugs at his heartstrings. After all, you’d been so close.

Sanemi wastes no time flipping you under him, hooking both your legs over his muscled shoulders until the underside of your thighs press flat against his chest.

“You’ll cum when I say so,” he shoves his painfully hard cock back into your pulsing warmth, his knuckles turning white under his grip against the rumpled blankets as he fights to keep his eyes from rolling back at the feeling of being sheathed back inside you once more.

“And you’re gonna fuckin’ look at me when i fill you up,” Sanemi snarls between ferocious snaps of his hips. “I wanna see that gorgeous face when I cum inside this pretty little pussy.”

“Yes! Yes s-sir.”

“Yeah? And who’s fucking you this good?”

“Y-you,”

He ducks his head down to nip sharply at your breast. “Try again.”

“You are — D-daddy,”

Sanemi’s pace only increases. “Still not what I’m looking for, princess,” he’s borderline cruel and he knows it, but he also knows what he wants. “Tell me whose pussy this is.”

You don’t answer; you can’t, given how slack your jaw has gone, your mouth frozen in a perfect “o” as Sanemi pushes the head of his cock right at that spot deep within you that makes you seize down on him hard enough that he sees stars.

He growls your name and when you still don’t respond, he snaps his hips particularly hard against yours.

“Say it.”

His hand shoves between your bodies, and Sanemi pinches your clit harshly between this thumb and index finger.

“Sanemi!” You wail, writhing under him. His fingers rub soothing circles against your clit, though the relentless thrust of his cock does not ease.

“That’s my girl,” he praises, and the pressure of his fingers against your throbbing nub increases. “Now cum on this fucking cock.”

That does it.

Your back arcs sharply up off the mattress, thighs tightening around his hips as your cunt clenching around him with earth-shattering force. Sanemi feels a smug wave of pride as a surge of fluid springs forth and coats his abdomen and groin.

You fall back against the bed, limp and spent, but Sanemi isn’t done with you yet; you won’t be, not until Sanemi has left his mark.

He shifts over you, his full weight pressing you down into the mattress; his hands pushing your knees up until they’re level with your chest. You sigh and hum, still wading through the haze of your orgasm, but given the way you let your thighs spread a little wider, you’re aware enough to know that Sanemi is readying you to take his release.

It’s not enough; Sanemi doesn’t want you lost in the aftermath of your euphoria — he wants you crying out for his.

His hand grips your face, your cheeks squishing together beneath his fingers as he forces your head to tilt toward him. Your eyes flutter open, bleary and unfocused before the clouds part and your attention is locked wholly on him.

“Beg for it,” he grits out, his hand smacking against your clit until you howled. “Beg for my cum.”

“Please!” Your cry is shrill and desperate, your hands tightening weakly around his shoulders. “Please f-fill me up — oh, Sanemi —“

He nearly loses it at the way you say his name, like it’s some damn prayer and he, your salvation, but he holds back. It’s not enough — he wants you as filthy and wanton as him.

“Use your words,” his words leave him in a single, inexorable command.

Your lower lip wobbles. “Your cum — please, please fill this pussy up. Fill me up, fuck it into me —“

Sanemi cuts off your babbling with a single, bruising kiss. He feels his balls tighten, and the prickle at the base of his spine grows hotter, signaling just how close he is to nirvana.

His hand finds one of yours where it clings to his shoulder, a fruitful attempt to anchor yourself, and he pulls it away. Sanemi presses your hand back against the mattress, interlacing his fingers with yours.

Your pussy flutters around him in time with your thumb stroking over his knuckle, and that’s all it takes.

“Oh fuck —“ Sanemi grunts before he feels himself explode. With a strangled yell, Sanemi’s hips slam into yours, pushing his cock as deep as it can possibly go, and his release crashes into him with mind-blowing force.

it’s the hardest and the most he’s ever come in his entire life. Nothing else has ever or will ever compare to this.

But even as his release spurts heavily inside your honeyed core, Sanemi doesn’t relent in his pace. His hips keep rolling steadily into you, prolonging his release to the point his toes curl, and he wonders whether his nose might start bleeding.

The corners of your mouth tilt up, a pleased groan vibrating loud and wanton in your throat as you feel him fuck his hot seed right into the Eden of your body.

Despite the mind-numbing pleasure of his orgasm, Sanemi won’t let himself look away. The face you make as he fills you up is the prettiest damn thing he’s ever seen.

Sanemi stays buried in your heat for several more moments as he comes down from his high, his head dropping into the crook of your shoulder. With a grunt, he pulls out, dropping down next to you in a flurry of messy blankets and pillows.

You push yourself to your side, a hand coming to push the sweat-dampened ends of his bangs from his eyes. “Good birthday?” You tease, your cheeks flushed bright red, your eyes bright.

“The best,” Sanemi agrees, his eyes scanning your face, committing every detail of you and your post-sex glow to memory.

The two of you lay next to one another for a little while, talking and quietly laughing. Neither one of you seems eager to leave the bed, and Sanemi in particular finds himself hoping today never ends.

Eventually, nature calls and he excuses himself — reluctantly — to the bathroom. When he emerges, he’s greeted with the sight of your ass, bare and exposed as you nestle into the bed, one leg kicking lazily up into the air behind you.

Fuck, you’re too beautiful, and he is far too weak.

He approaches the side of the bed, stretching out one hand to drag teasingly down your spine, until he reaches your ass, knuckles kneading the soft flesh.

His eyes flit to the small clock perched on the hotel nightstand. Sanemi’s grin turns lupine as he reads time reflected by the green-tinted digits.

Sanemi’s fingers skirt down to your ankle, gripping it firmly in his hand. He tugs you over the side of the bed until your head dangles off the edge, your hair stretching towards the ground. “Looks like it’s still my birthday, darling. I ain’t finished enjoying my present yet,” he grips the base of his half-hard cock and taps it against your lips. “And I’ve been dying to cum all over this pretty face of yours.”

—-

True to his word, Sanemi takes him time ravishing his birthday gift. When the clock on the nightstand finally reads 12:01 AM, he flops down next to you, chest heaving as he works to catch his breath.

You lay beside him, panting in tandem with him from the exertion of the night’s activities. There isn’t an inch of you that isn’t sticky as a result of the heady mixture of your sweat and Sanemi’s cum.

You feel his eyes searing into you as you trail a finger through the milky white splattered across your chest — a favorite place of his to cum, as you’d learned, second only to spilling inside of you.

Sanemi hardly holds back a whimper at the way you bring it to your lips, letting your tongue lick your finger clean of his pleasure.

“You’re trying to drive me wild, woman,” he throws a tired arm over his face, shrouding his eyes. “You torture all your hookups like this?”

He’s surprised at how quickly you sit up in bed, your eyes flashing.

“Hookup?”

Sanemi props a fist under his cheek. “Well, yeah,” he winces slightly, searching for more careful words. “I don’t expect anything from you. I appreciate the birthday surprise, though.”

Your gaze is leveled, and your voice even. “I don’t buy lingerie for one-night stands, Sanemi. That shit is an investment.”

His eyes blow wide, and he feels the erratic thrum of his heart stuttering in his throat.

“I want you,” you say firmly. “And I had every intention when I followed you in here tonight for this —“ your hand waves back and forth between your chests. “— to continue.”

It’s a miracle Sanemi is able to speak at all. “I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give.”

You grin. “Well, now that you’ve fucked me, I guess you should take me on a date.” You pause, trailing one delicate finger down his chest. “But I won’t make you wait until we’ve been on three before I let you fuck me again.”

Your hand dips below the edge of the blanket and glides teasingly over his cock, already beginning to stir once more. “You’re far too delicious.”

Sanemi snatches your hand and rolls you under him before you can blink, your answering giggle the sweetest music ever to grace his ears.

“Y’know, in other parts of the world, it’s still the 29th,” he murmurs huskily, grazing his lips against yours. “So by that logic…”

You nod, eyebrows drawn together in seriousness. “We’re obligated to keep celebrating.”

Sanemi’s lips are already trailing down your body, savoring the taste of himself on your skin. He settles back between your legs, marveling at the way your thighs fall to the side so easily to accommodate his mass.

He presses a sweet kiss against your clit. “You’re just the gift that keeps on giving, aren’t you, darlin’?”

[quiverwingquack]

I'm hyperfixating on Ducktales again and rewatching episodes, as one does, and I realized Louie uses a landline to call Goldie in Outlaw Scrooge McDuck, which I thought was weird because he definitely had a cell phone in Great Dime Chase, cause he and Scrooge talk about it.

But then I realized it's cause he gets a phone for his Louie Inc setup. He’s making a business call to Goldie. This kid is a professional and he has a business line. (Also, I'm kind of obsessed with how much their room changes.)

[silentwhispofhope]

Could I get soooooome headcanons for Vash having a crush on a reader who is kinda sassy and tough and smart mouthed, but also super sweet and caring and goofy?

Like they are there to comfort him and care about him and others all the time but is ready to throw hands at the drop of a dime, or sasses or curses Nick out if he does something mean?

If that’s not something you wanna do that’s totally fine!

Vash just gives me “I love a person who could kick my ass….but wouldn’t” vibes 😂

A/N: Oooooo! I honestly this is such a great idea, and this type of person would be a great match with Vash! I’m totally not procrastinating from studying for my first biochem exam pshhhhh

Vash Headcanons with a Tough but Sweet S/O

Your quips back at Wolfwood’s criticisms of him, pointing out the undertaker’s own contradictions, always make him feel better himself. It makes Vash feel like his own methodology isn’t completely wrong, even though he does know it can be flawed.

He’s also deeply grateful for you defending him. This poor boy has been chased away and betrayed by so many people, your trust in him makes him fall harder for you.

Vash knows you’d be willing to throw hands for him, but he tries to keep you from doing this as much as possible, often having to put a hand on your shoulder to calm you down. As much as he loves you, humans are much more fragile than Plants, and he would rather see you not get hurt.

He also appreciates that you know when to be brutally honest and when to give subtle lies. However, sometimes your mouth does get the two of you in trouble when you don’t hold back. Vash has to do damage control at that point to prevent the two of you from being kicked out of the bar or town.

Your tough love is also something that he needs. Your “nagging” about his latest injury makes him realize he does need to keep himself out of harm’s way as much as possible in order to help others. You also always give him a teasing little flick to his forehead after patching him up, which always makes him laugh in response, lifting the more serious atmosphere of the nagging session.

He loves when your goofy nature slips out. One of Vash’s favorite memories is when your dragged him away from the campfire to dance with him under the stars. The two of you have no idea what you’re doing, but the night ends with him picking you up and twirling you in the air and in a fit of giggles.

You once managed to find an old, battered pun/riddle book that managed to survive the whole journey from Earth. When it’s just the two you traveling to another town, you’ll try and read them to Vash. He knows the answer a majority of the time, but he doesn’t have the heart to ruin the little guessing game going on when your eyes shine that brightly.

[faerytreealtars]

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧𐦍 "Wisdom from the elements "- Air ♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧𐦍

Hello again, Saplings! 🌱 A new PAC today that I hope you enjoy, take a deep breath, and choose whatever images resonate with your soul and heart, Happy reading! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚   The finale part of this series but no less important is the element of air, a being of communication and connection to higher beings and sources. The air element makes me think of inner child energy too but that may be because of the sylphs that float on the breeze and are playful and joyous at their core.

This is a general reading so please only take what resonates with your heart and mind. Remember to trust your intuition first and foremost, don't overthink it! I would love to hear if the message you received resonated with you, so don’t feel afraid to comment, for it makes me so happy to connect with you all! 💕  

Song: Tir Na Nog - Celtic Woman

Faery-tale: Goldilocks - "It does no one any good to open the doors not meant for them"

[ My Instagram ♡ / Personal Readings ♤ /  Faery Masterlist ☆  ]

Pile 1

[Cards: King of Pentacles, Wheel of Fortune & Knight of Wands + "Quit" ]

I feel like someone or perhaps more than one person has put you down, and made you believe your skills & and talents aren’t good enough. They have caused you to give up on a creative passion you wanted to pursue because it doesn’t suit your goals or needs if you dared to put yourself first. The air elementals are masters of communication and thus they tell me you shouldn’t give up, speak your mind, make sure you have clearly told this person or people your desires and boundaries, and always follow your heart. If they can’t support you after all the selfless support you have given them, then as sorrowful as it may be it is time to forge a new path without them in it. Make a new destiny and don’t worry about being perfect as long as you put care and love into what you’re doing and remain consistent then you’ll do great things!

Pile 2

[Cards: Knight of cups, The tower & the fool + "Friendship" ]

It is time to give into wonder & and whimsy, allow the tower to fall & and embrace a new more playful period of your life - For too long you have neglected your emotions & and self-care, you have neglected the child within with a worker and mindset taking over all that once gave you joy. I fear that if you don’t stop to give yourself a breather, time to appreciate how far you’ve come and enjoy the fruits of your harvest you will end up crashing and burning out. All that is meant to be yours will come in time, the harder you chase it, the farther out of reach it will seem to become. Take a step back and observe your life and perhaps note down what it is you want and why you want it? Will it bring you the happiness you truly deserve?

Pile 3

[Cards: Six of pentacles, eight of pentacles & the lovers + "Family" ]

Have you been neglecting the ones who love and are dear to you? I understand the need to work hard & and to put all your energy into achieving your dreams & and goals or even just work hard to stay afloat but don’t forget to appreciate the simple things in life - for they are sometimes the reason to keep on living - the people, places and pets that are always there for you. Perhaps it is time to show them your thanks. Write them a letter, get them a gift or just do something nice for them, it doesn’t have to cost money, for time is far more valuable than any dime. When one brings happiness to another then you will also find that happiness can find its way back to you!

I hope my channeled messages and the guidance from the elementals of the air have brought you clarity, hope and guidance!

-Love, Fae 🍀🧚🏻‍♀

If you are looking for more in-depth readings catered to only you, and you alone. Feel free to check out my personal readings, the link is up top or you can check this helpful post to understand how my readings will aim to help you!

[seasonsbloom]

ROMEO with cowboy!hangman prompt “is that my shirt” & “Use your words, baby.” PLEASEEEEE

♡ pairing ; cowboy ! hangman x female!reader

♡ wc ; 740

♡ warnings ; 18+ only, minors do NOT interact; explicit language, semi-public sex, some dirty talk

♡ note ; dime store cowboy universe, but can be read separately. sorry I got carried away. I swear these two have like an exhibitionism kink idk either.

Jake corners you in the hallway to the bathroom.

In the living room, champagne flows freely in golden cascades, bubbles popping in the delicate crystal glasses. People mingle, talk, flirt, act coy. A trickle of music drifts over, a string quartet performing pop hits that tell you the hostess - some girl you loved in high school and barely know now - has watched too much Bridgerton.

It’s dark here, and Jake’s eyes gleam like burning coals. “Is that my shirt?”

You glance down at yourself, even though you know the answer perfectly well. Your heart has jumped up into your throat. 

“Maybe,” you concede and look at him from beneath half-lowered lashes.

This seemed like a great idea earlier. Jake had been so nervous about the whole thing, about trying to fit himself into the mold of your old life for a night, into a world he didn’t know and you no longer recognized. He’d agonized over it - scared people would think he was a hillbilly, scared they’d make fun of him or wouldn’t take him seriously. So earlier, in your hotel room, you’d seen the blue button-down he’d worn on your first date in his suitcase, and you hadn’t even thought twice about it. Had made a snap decision and ran with it.

Now the shirt works as your jacket for the night, fitting over the tight dress you wear beneath. It smells like him, like his cologne and that underlying scent that’s just him. It’s that, mixed with the champagne you had, that sends tingling warmth through you. All that and the way he’s looking at you.

“I would have worn your hat, too,” you say, leaning against the wall, perfectly aware of what you’re doing, “but I don’t think we ever would have made it out the front door.”

Jake gives you a long, hard glance, something burning in his eyes, and then he’s moving.

“Damn straight,” he says, reaching past you to open the door to the bathroom, to push you inside ahead of him. He flicks on the switch, and the fluorescents flutter to life, then locks the door.

His hand spreads wide and heavy on your stomach as he presses you backward. You go willingly, without breaking eye contact even for a second, your heart racing and your mouth dry. Your back hits the marble of the sink.

Jake is watching you so intently your breath catches somewhere in your throat. Your brain starts fizzling out around the edges.

“You trying to rile me up?” he asks. His fingers travel from your stomach up your torso, between your breasts, then hit the planes of exposed skin on your chest. Goosebumps rise in the wake of his touch, your pulse jumps when he presses his thumb into the dip between your clavicles. “Is that what this is, sugar?”

“No,” you whisper, because you weren’t. Honest. Quite the opposite, you were trying to put him at ease. That’s what you want to tell him, want to explain, but Jake’s leg parts your thighs, presses against your core at the same time that his lips find the side of your jaw, and words elude you.

“If I put my hand in your panties now,” he whispers against your skin, his mouth parting and his breath hot, the rasp of his beard sending shockwaves down your spine, “I bet you’d be dripping for me already, wouldn’t you?”

You whimper, press yourself more firmly against his thigh, chasing the relief of pressure against your clit. At this point, you’re barely registering his words anymore, head spinning, legs spreading, weight bearing down.

Jake pulls back just an inch or two, but you feel the separation like a pang in your chest. Using his thumb and forefinger, he tilts your head back, one eyebrow raised. If his breath wasn’t going as quick as it is, you could almost believe he is entirely unaffected.

“Use your words, baby,” he says, his voice soft but demanding. His thumb finds your lower lip and tugs it away from your teeth. “Are you wet for me?”

You exhale a shuddering breath, mouth chasing his finger, head reeling, stomach swooping. “Yeah,” you admit, somehow dredging up words out of the sludge of your mind, “for you.”

Jake grins. “Good girl,” he says, and then, finally, he kisses you.

Okay. Maybe you were trying to rile him up. Just a little.

It’s not like the result isn’t mutually beneficial or anything.

[best-ducktales-episode]

Found the tweet! Also apparently the original order of the first nine episodes was:

Woo-oo!

Daytrip of Doom!

The Impossible Summit of Mt. Neverrest!

The Great Dime Chase

Beagle Birthday Massacre!

House of the Lucky Gander!

Infernal Internship of Mark Beaks!

Living Mummies of Both-Ra!

Terror of the Terra-Firmians!

but they changed some of them around, like neverrest, so that they would come out at holiday-appropriate times of the year

Ohhh cool! thank you!

[shychick-52]

Here are some Gyro (2017) headcanons I have (longish list, be warned):

After the original Tokyolk incident, young Gyro's reputation was pretty much ruined within the international scientific community, until he got hired by Scrooge (the only one to ever really give him a chance for ten years- Frank confirmed that Gyro worked for Scrooge for a decade or something, and it was stated in 'Astro B.O.Y.D.' the Tokyolk incident happened 20 years ago- so I'm not sure what he did for the first decade until Scrooge hired him, tho).

Because he's Scrooge McDuck, I definitely think Scrooge knew about the Tokyolk incident (how could he not?? Not only was it surely huge international news, but the guy's a globe-trotter extraordinaire), but was willing to give Gyro a chance because: (1) he saw amazing potential in him and his genius, and (2) he's usually on the side of the underdog and the misfit.

Scrooge promised Gyro to never tell another soul about what happened, because that was strictly his business- including Donald and Della, and the Board ofc.

Gyro always had great respect, trust, and gratitude for Scrooge for both giving him a chance and for keeping his secret.

Gyro's inventions officially started turning evil and backfiring nearly ever since the Tokyolk incident (which he always thought was the first instance of an invention of his turning evil).

After some time passed after Gyro got hired by Scrooge, Scrooge began approving of his inventions less and less, especially once Bradford and the Buzzards weaseled their way on as his Board and gained Scrooge's trust to "make good financial decisions" for his company, as stated in Gyro's debut episode 'The Great Dime Chase' (Scrooge mostly trusted the Board, but definitely argued with them about a lot of things, such as firing certain staff and cutting funding for certain other things he deemed necessary).

Eventually, Gyro strongly suspected the only reason Scrooge never fired him- since, from his perspective, he seemed to have lost faith in him for a long time (disapproving of his inventions, telling him they're crazy and dangerous like everyone else thinks, agreeing with the Board when they deny him funding)- is because he enjoys both seeing him fail and laughing at him like everyone else does; this likely deeply hurt him, because he'd thought at least Scrooge understood him, but at the same time he still couldn't help but always look to Scrooge with respect and gratitude for hiring him in the first place.

At some point, especially the more Gyro's inventions turned evil and the more his reputation continued to sink until it seemed it couldn't get any worse, Gyro just accepted and even ironically embraced his label as a mad scientist; as much as he truly resented it and it hurt, he thought if all anyone ever saw in him was a dangerous crackpot and a mad scientist, that's what they would get.

He always believed- or at least deeply feared- that his inventions turning evil meant, deep down, he was evil too; and whenever he told others his inventions weren't "all evil, just wildly misunderstood", he was referring to himself just as much, trying to convince himself of this too.

Gyro's arrogance and emotionally distancing himself from others was mostly a cover for the deep insecurities that plagued him ever since Tokyolk, a mask to convince both others and himself he's anything but a weak loser and a useless failure (I think Frank even confirmed this one on here, at least more or less).

Gyro deliberately made a point of not remembering the names of most of the people in his life (except for Scrooge, obviously, and Manny- who Frank said Gyro gave the name 'Manny', which explains why he remembers it) because he was scared of getting too close to them, or them getting too close to him- to quote Donald, "somebody always gets hurt", whether it's Gyro or the ones in his life (take the Spear of Selene incident, for example)- and also because he was terrified that if he risked letting people in, they'd see him for the failure and the monster he was even more than they likely already did.

Akita very likely always treated Gyro like a worthless failure (and it always tore at his self-esteem), so when the Tokyolk incident happened with '2-BO' and shattered the majority of the rest of his self-image, Gyro always thought his mentor was right about him after all.

@thatduckisgay

[hueberryshortcake]

to what extent do we think webby was isolated as a kid. like tangled rapunzel isolated or like 9am third wednesday of every month webby gets to go on a heavily supervised trip straight to the library to pick out exactly ten books and straight home in the limo situation

i guess quackfaster recognizes her in the great dime chase and it's pretty clear she's begged to be let in before so. idk. thoughts

[writebackatya]

Scrooge taking Louie to the Bin in The Great Dime Chase!

[astro-duck]

Something that gets slept on a little is the fact that Lil’ Bulb, while rampaging and tearing apart the bin in “The Great Dime Chase” (S1 E4) scans Gyro as:

Gearloose, Gyro

- Genius

-Inventor

-Father

I have two big questions, one of which contains multiple offshoot questions.

1. How did Lil’ Bulb come to the conclusion that Gyro was any of those things? The Inventor part makes sense, he is that. But ‘Genius’? And more importantly ‘Father’? Did Gyro program that in to him? It seems likely that he would program an invention to believe that he was a genius, but definitely not to believe he was his son. Especially pre-“Astro-BOYD” Gyro. However! In the first part of the season 2 finale, he does call an army of Lil’ Bulbs “Children!” This probably isn’t quite indicative of his true feelings about the bulb army though, and is more just a term of endearment for the creations he’s proud of.

However, Lil’ Bulb is very obviously sentient and can also come to the decision on his own that Gyro is his father (and also a genius). However it happened, the idea that Gyro is his father seems to be so built in to his core that even when he is going haywire and is “mad with power” due to a high-wattage lightbulb he still remembers it. Even when he’s ‘evil’ and on a rampage, he won’t/hesitates to hurt Gyro because he is Lil’ Bulb’s father.

Maybe you can see where this is going

2. Maybe a similar thing happened to Boyd? Just a thought.

[humankarkat]

@zebsfloppyears asked for more details on Kallus' arc in the MOTW au, and I'm more than happy to oblige.

Kallus starts off as your run-of-the-mill FBI agent sent off to the butt crack of nowhere for a wild goose chase of an assignment, but pretty quickly gets tied up in the whole "monsters are real and the government is collecting mediums for unethical experiments" deal. His arc progresses fairly straightforward for the first bit of the AU, but then we reach the problem of, well. The US government is bad, but it's not "obliterate whole planets just because they looked at us funny" bad.

So when he ends up stranded on the side of a mountain outside a Utah ski resort called Behryn along with a handsome man who also happens to be bigfoot in disguise, that breaks some ice (haha) but it isn't quite enough to fully radicalize him.

But it does mean that, when he wakes up several weeks later handcuffed to the same radiator as Kanan Fucking Jarrus, he's a bit more equitable to working together to get out. Sure, it's a bitch off, how could it not be with those two, but they don't kill each other, and Kallus lets Kanan go once they've dealt with their captors.

So when Hera makes eye contact with him at a party they're both under cover at the next month, she remembers how he spared Kanan. It's not like she could say anything, anyways, since confronting him would break her cover, and if Kallus confronted her it would break his cover, so instead they silently agree to a truce, and unfortunately have a great time together.

And see, now he's fallen into the trap. Now he's actually a bit fond of these people. Now he's willing to give them grace when before he was only doing his duty. Unfortunately, he does still have a duty to perform, so he begrudgingly works with the CIA agent he's been paired with to finally track down and corner Ezra Bridger. Except, then the CIA agent pulls his gun, and Kallus reminds him that Ezra is 16, still a minor, and that they're to take him in alive, because why on earth would they kill a child? But then the CIA agent tells him that his orders were to eliminate their target, and Kallus sighs and pulls his own weapon, but it isn't Ezra he points it at. And Ezra makes it home safe, and he tells them what happened, and oh, maybe that FBI bitch isn't as bad as we thought?

Which is Sabine's first thought when she comes home one day to see a familiar car parked next to the Ghost, the one Ketsu had been driving last year when they'd reconnected, but Sabine really isn't ready for that conversation yet so she turns around and goes back into town to clear her head. And when she sees a familiar mutton-chopped fed sitting on a nearby park bench she remembers how he'd treated Ezra, and she really needs someone to talk to besides the spectres (she's sure they wouldn't understand, since they were the ones who were probably eating dinner with her sorta-ex girlfriend right now), so she plops down next to him. He's confused, yeah, and he asks her if she wants to be arrested, but when she shrugs and says might as well, it's better than going home right now anyways, well, Kallus has sisters of his own, and she's so small sitting next to him, and god dammit if he doesn't ask if she's hungry, tells her there's a pretty good diner around the corner. And Sabine grins at him and says as long as it's on your dime, fed, and all of a sudden they're eating together and talking about their exes and, well. It's all over from there. The spectres have caught him, hook line and sinker.

None of them are surprised, later, when Kallus helps Sabine break those poor cadets out of the Air Force testing facility, or when he tells Kanan and Ezra in the weapons factory that he's been the one supplying their most recent leaks. He may be a fed, but he's their fed.