#savi's answered asks<3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[savi-of-ithaca]

3, 5, 7, 23 for the dbda ask game!!

tysm omg

3. i think a lot of the characters on dbda are loved just the right amount by the fandom, netflix obviously underappreciates all of them because they cancelled the show >:( but if i were to choose i'd say tragic mick. like ohhhh his story actually killed me he has such great vibes. i'd love to write a poem about him if someone compiled his scenes for me to study

5. HAHA THIS ONE IS DIFFICULT see the quizzes can't decide but through unanimous vote it's in the order of charles, cat king, edwin! fun fact i've written rather long poems from edwin's perspective AND my friend who didn't know the quote existed coincedentally said the same thing edwin said to charles. i was having the same crisis as charles. make of that what you will 😭

7. i LOVE LOVE LOVE chorb and orbwin it's adorable but i also love all the domestic love headcanons i see. like the ones talking about how payneland would be in their free time (i have a lot of these myself that i'd kill to share)

23. i have a playlistttttt some of the songs are:

ahead by a century by the tragically hip

we go down together by dove cameron and khalid

better in the dark by jordana and tv girl

angel baby by troye sivan

meteor shower by cavetown

a boy named pluto by hailey knox

ghost town (voice memo) by chloe george

[goblinontour]

Leather Cladded

part 3 | series masterlist

he’ll show you around

warnings: mentions of death, dead animals, implied age gap, fingering, piv, blood

word count: 12.7k

The ground moaned softly under his boots as he adjusted his weight, the brittle frost beneath him breaking in quiet protest. Your breath clouded in the air, but the chill wasn’t why your chest felt tight. Your eyes remained fixed, frozen on his hands — on the crimson trail tracing its way down, gathering at his fingertips, and falling, drop by drop, to stain the white crystals that blanketed the earth and on the fragile form cradled within them. 

Its wings splayed unnaturally wide, its small body limp and fading in his grasp. A gloved hand still gripped its neck, where the final twitches of life dwindled, its sharp jerks softening into stillness.  

He held it as though it were still alive, as though it might stir again at any moment. His grip wasn’t tight — it was protective, almost. His fingers trembled just slightly as he carefully smoothed the bird’s wings back into place. The feathers, once ruffled and defiant in their last moments of struggle, now lay flat, glistening with streaks that blended into the dark tones of its plumage. The blood spread over it like a veil, erasing whatever fight had come before, dissolving its pain into a strange kind of peace.  

He wasn’t expecting you.  

He tilted his head as he worked, his expression unreadable. But there was something tender in the way he adjusted the bird’s form, as though comforting it even in death, as though offering it a moment of dignity it had been denied. His fingers lingered briefly along its neck, brushing over the place where life had so recently fled.  

You felt your stomach tighten, the tension in the air coiling tighter with each deliberate motion of his.  

“Hi.” you said, your voice shaking. The sound felt out of place, small and fragile against the backdrop of frost and silence, betraying every attempt to mask your shock.  

His head turned sharply toward you, and for a moment, you saw something in his eyes—a flicker of surprise, maybe even guilt. But it was gone before you could grasp it, replaced by that same unreadable calm. He didn’t let go of the bird.  

“You weren’t supposed to be here.” he said, edged with something that made you want to step back.  

Your gaze darted to the bird again, its feathers dull now in the dim light. The blood on his hands wasn’t smearing. It looked deliberate, like it belonged there.  

“What are you doing?” you asked, the words barely above a whisper.  

He didn’t answer at first, his gloved fingers carefully cradling the lifeless creature now. There was a reverence in the motion, something that unsettled you more than the sight of the blood.  

“I didn’t think you’d come.” he said finally, his voice so low it almost didn’t reach you. And not an answer to your question.

“You didn’t think I’d come back, or you didn’t think I’d come here?” you asked, trying to steady your breathing.  

“Does it matter?” he replied, not looking at you, his focus entirely on the bird in his hands.  

“It does to me.” you said, and he glanced at you then, his dark eyes catching the light just enough to look sharper than they should.  

He exhaled slowly, a cloud of breath escaping into the cold air. “I’m…saving it.” he said finally, inspecting as though he were looking for something, his eyes tracing every line and shadow of its lifeless form.  

“Saving it?” you repeated, your brow furrowing. “What does that even mean? What did you do to it?”  

His lips twitched. “I didn’t do anything.” he said. “It was already dying. I’m just…” He paused, brushing his gloved thumb over its feathers, smearing another streak of red across the glossy black surface. “I’m helping it find peace.”  

Your pulse quickened. “Alexander, that doesn’t make sense.”  

He finally looked back at you, his gaze steady and unblinking. “Doesn’t it?” he asked.  

“No.” you said, shaking your head. “It doesn’t. You- what does ‘saving it’ even mean? It’s-”  

“Shh…” he interrupted gently, his voice like a low hum. He raised the bird slightly, cradling it closer to his chest. “You don’t understand.”  

“Then help me.” you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “Help me understand.”  

He tilted his head, his lips parting slightly as though weighing your request. “I can.” he said after a moment, his voice quiet, almost hypnotic. “If you’ll let me.”  

You stepped closer despite yourself, your breath coming in shallow puffs. “What are you saving it from?” you asked, your voice trembling.  

He looked down at the bird again, his fingers brushing over its head in a motion that could only be described as loving. “From nothing.” he said. “From everything.”  

“That doesn’t mean anything.” you said, frustration creeping into your voice.  

“It doesn’t have to.” he replied, his gaze snapping back to you.  

You stared at him, at the blood-streaked feathers, at the way his hands held the bird with a tenderness that felt at odds with the scene before you.  

“Let me show you.” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Let me help you see.”  

You didn’t know what he meant, but something about the way he said it — the quiet intensity in his voice — made it impossible to look away. You nodded, unsure of what you were agreeing to, but unable to stop yourself.  

And then he smiled, a small, fleeting thing. “Good.” he said softly. “That’s good. This isn’t what you think.” he said softly.  

“What is it, then?” you asked.  

“A moment.” he said, his lips quirking in the faintest of smiles. “A quiet one.”  

Your stomach twisted. “That’s not quiet.” You gestured toward the blood on his hands. “That’s-”  

“Necessary.” he interrupted, his voice calm but firm.  

“Necessary for what?” you demanded, your voice louder than you’d meant it to be, echoing faintly in the stillness.  

He sighed then, his breath visible in the air as he looked down at the bird again. “For understanding.”  

“Understanding what?”  

“Life. Death. Desire.” He spoke the words with a simplicity that made them feel heavy. “It’s all the same, really. The boundaries blur, don’t they?”  

You didn’t answer. You didn’t know how to.  

“Do you trust me?” he asked suddenly, his eyes locking onto yours.  

“I don’t know.” you admitted, the words spilling out before you could stop them.  

He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “That’s fair.” he said after a moment.  

The wind picked up just enough to rustle the trees around you, and the sound startled you more than it should have. He noticed, a flicker of amusement crossing his face.  

“You’re nervous.” he said, taking a step toward you.  

“No.” you said quickly, though the tremor in your voice betrayed you.  

“You should be.” he said softly, almost as though he were warning you. That sent another shiver down your spine.  

“I don’t understand you.” you said, shaking your head.  

“You don’t have to,.” he replied. “Come ‘ere, gimme a kiss.” he said, his voice low and teasing, the words slipping past his lips like a secret.  

And for some reason, you did, without hesitation. The cold air bit at your skin, but his lips were soft, tasting faintly of winter’s chill and something sweeter. It was quick — too quick, really — but it left a warmth lingering between you that the frost couldn’t touch.  

He pulled back, just enough to look at you, his thumb brushing over your chin as though to keep you close. “You wanna know why I’m always here?”  

Your breath caught. The weight of the question was subtle, and though you hesitated, you nodded. “Yeah. I think I do.”  

He stepped back, his gloved hand brushing yours lightly, not quite taking it but guiding you all the same. Without thinking, you followed. You always followed him, even when you didn’t know why. There was something magnetic in the way he moved, in the way he carried himself, as though the world bent itself slightly around him.  

The trees along the path were skeletal in the winter light, their bare branches clawing at the sky. The crunch of frost underfoot was the only sound, save for the occasional distant caw. You watched his shoulders as he walked ahead of you, broad and steady, his coat swaying slightly with each step. The bird was still cradled in his hands as he walked. He held it as if it were a delicate thing, not a body drained of life, not something he had taken control over, but as if he were protecting it. Every so often, his thumb would brush over its feathers, smearing more of the crimson across the soft black, and you couldn’t tell if he was trying to comfort the creature or himself.  

The way he carried it unsettled you — something in it felt holy and twisted all at once, like he’d plucked a dying star out of the heavens and held it in his palm.  

You trailed behind him, your boots crunching against the ground.

“Have you ever seen someone die?” he asked abruptly, his voice breaking the fragile silence between you.  

Your steps faltered, the question sharp enough to stop you in your tracks. He didn’t look back, but his words lingered.  

“Seen someone…die?” you echoed.  

He glanced over his shoulder, unreadable. “Yes.” he said simply. “Watched it happen. Felt it happen.”  

Your breath fogged in the air as you searched for an answer. “I- I don’t think so.” you admitted, unsure why the question left you so shaken. “Why?”  

He kept walking, his boots sinking slightly into the icy path. “It’s a strange feeling.” he said after a while, his voice quieter now, almost thoughtful. “Having someone die in your arms.”  

You quickened your pace to catch up with him. “Someone?” you asked cautiously.  

He furrowed his brows, glancing down at the bird as if startled by the slip. Then he smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Someone…something.” he corrected, his voice low, almost a murmur. “It feels special. Feeling it take its last breath in your grip.”  

The words made your skin crawl, but you couldn’t look away from him, from the quiet intensity in his expression as he spoke. He wasn’t looking at you now, his gaze fixed on his hands.  

“Special?” you repeated.  

He nodded slowly, his eyes distant, his thoughts clearly somewhere far from where you stood. “It’s intimate. The way life clings to itself, even in its final moments. The way it fights, even when it knows it’s lost. And then…” His thumb paused over the bird’s breastbone. “And then it’s gone. Just like that.”  

You swallowed hard. “Is that why you’re always here?” you asked.  

His gaze snapped back to you, sharp and searching, and for a moment, you thought he might answer. But instead, he turned away, continuing down the path.  

“Come on.” he said, his tone lighter now, as though the conversation had never happened. “We’re almost there.”  

You followed him again, your eyes flicking between his back and the destination that apparently loomed closer with each step. 

“Welcome home.” he said, his voice breaking the silence as he stopped abruptly.  

Your eyes followed the line of his outstretched arm, and your breath hitched at the sight that unfolded before you. Between the trees, a house came into view. It was old, impossibly old, with gray stone walls mottled with moss and ivy that clung like it belonged there, like it had grown from the earth itself. The roof sagged in places, the windows were dark and unwelcoming, but there was something strangely beautiful about it — something haunting and alive.  

“Home?” you echoed, your voice trembling slightly.  

He turned to you, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Mine.” he clarified. “But…maybe yours, too. If you’ll let it be.”  

The words hung in the air, laden with an invitation you didn’t entirely understand.  

“What is this place?” you asked, stepping closer.  

“It’s where I go when I’m not…out there.” he said, gesturing vaguely behind you, toward the cemetery. “It’s where I came from. Where I’ve always been.”  

You frowned, glancing between him and the house. “You live here?”  

“Live’s a strong word.” he said, his tone light but his eyes dark. “I…exist here. When I need to.”  

Something about the way he said it sent a chill up your spine, but it wasn’t fear. It was curiosity, tangled with a sense of inevitability.  

“Why are you showing me this?” you asked, stepping closer to him.  

“Because I want you to understand,” he said simply.  

“Understand what?”  

He turned to face you fully. For a moment, he just looked at you. Then, he took a deep breath.  

“Why I’m always here. Why I’m always…waiting for you.”  

“Alexander…” you began, but he shook his head.  

“Don’t.” he said softly. “Not yet. Just…come inside.”  

You hesitated, glancing back at the house. The windows stared back at you like empty eyes, and yet, you felt an inexplicable pull, a quiet voice inside you urging you forward.  

“Come inside.” he said, stepping closer, his free hand brushing against yours. “Please.”  

“Okay.” you said finally.  

He smiled again, that small thing that you were beginning to realise wasn’t entirely real, and gestured for you to follow him.  

You did.

The moment you stepped inside, the scent hit you like a wave — him. That mix of cedar, musk, and something darker, sharper, like iron, only multiplied until it surrounded you from every corner. It was as if the house itself exhaled him, filling the air so thickly that it made your nose twitch.  

You glanced around, the dim interior lit by muted daylight filtering through the cracks in the weathered shutters. The walls were lined with old bookshelves, their spines cracked and leaning against one another like tired soldiers. Dust motes floated lazily in the air, but the space didn’t feel neglected — it felt…alive.  

“Hey, Lulu.” Alexander’s voice broke the silence, soft and low, coaxing something out from the shadows.  

Your gaze dropped to his feet, where a sleek black cat had appeared as if conjured. It weaved between his legs, rubbing its head against his thigh with an air of possessive affection.  

“Daddy’s home, yeah…” he whispered, crouching slightly to let the cat nuzzle into his palm. His touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the blood still dripping from the bird cradled in his other hand.  

He turned back to you with a smirk, his eyes gleaming. “This is Lulu.” he said, gesturing to the cat, who regarded you with a pair of luminous green eyes that seemed far too knowing.  

Before you could respond, another drop of blood fell, hitting the floor with a soft pat. You glanced down instinctively, watching as it seeped between the cracks of the floorboards, dark against the aged wood.  

Alexander followed your gaze, his expression unreadable for a moment before he straightened, his focus shifting back to you. “Stay here.” he said “I’ll go take care of…” He trailed off, lifting the bird slightly in his hands as if to explain.  

You nodded, your throat too tight to respond properly. He disappeared through a doorway, his boots echoing faintly against the floor as he walked out of view.  

Left alone, you glanced down at the cat, who was now sitting by your feet, its tail curling and uncurling like a question mark. Lulu stared up at you, unblinking, her gaze unsettlingly sharp, as if she were silently evaluating your presence.  

“Hi.” you said softly.  

Lulu didn’t react, her eyes flicking briefly toward the doorway Alexander had gone through before returning to you. You could still hear the faint sound of his footsteps, accompanied now by the creak of hinges and the faint clatter of metal.  

The scent in the room seemed to thicken, growing warmer, heavier, until it pressed against your skin like a second layer. You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to shake off the strange unease that crept up your spine.  

A minute passed, maybe two, and then the sound of water running reached your ears. You pictured him, the bird in his hands, the blood staining the porcelain of some ancient sink.  

“Don’t wander off.” his voice called from the other room, startling you. It wasn’t sharp or angry, but it carried something that made you freeze in place, the idea of disobeying him suddenly inconceivable.  

“I won’t.” you called back.  

You glanced down at Lulu again, who had now curled herself into a neat little ball at your feet, her tail draped over her nose. For a moment, the sight of her was almost comforting, a slice of normalcy in an otherwise strange, suffocating moment.  

But then, out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a faint smear of blood on the floor, leading from where he’d been standing to the doorway he’d disappeared through. And somehow, you couldn’t help but follow it with your gaze, your feet itching to move, your curiosity pressing against the edges of your restraint like a caged animal.

Alexander’s return was as sudden as it was seamless, as if he’d never left. His boots thudded lightly against the floorboards, his presence filling the room again in an instant.  

“Ah, right where I left you.” he said, voice warm and low, though there was an edge of something else beneath it — relief, maybe. He leaned down to kiss your forehead, his lips brushing your skin like a brand before he straightened and pulled off the bloodied black gloves, hanging them neatly by the door.  

“She’s cute.” you admitted.  

“She is.” he agreed, glancing at you with a grin that was almost boyish in its sincerity. “And she’s spoiled rotten, but don’t tell her I said that.”  

You didn’t know why you flinched when his hand came to your shoulder, his fingers brushing the fabric of your coat to ease it off. Maybe it was the memory of the bird, or the sharp focus in his gaze that hadn’t quite softened.  

But he noticed.  

He always noticed.  

His hands stopped suddenly, gripping your arms from behind with enough force to ground you, to make you feel him. His breath was hot against the curve of your neck, and the tension in his voice was unmistakable when he spoke.  

“I didn’t kill it.” he said, his voice quieter now, almost raw, like the words themselves hurt to say.  

“I believe you.” you replied quickly, tumbling out before you could think too hard.  

“Do you?” he asked, his grip tightening, his fingers pressing into your skin. You opened your mouth to answer, but he didn’t give you the chance. “Do I disgust you?” he added, the question cutting through the air like a blade. His face was close, but he didn’t turn to meet your gaze, as if he couldn’t bear to see whatever truth might flicker in your eyes.  

You shook your head, a small, jerky motion.  

His arms moved then, sliding around you in a hug that was as sudden as it was crushing. He held you tightly, his head dipping down until his face was pressed into your shoulder. He didn’t say anything, didn’t move, just held on like letting go would shatter you or him.  

“Okay.” he whispered finally, his voice barely audible, the tension in his body ebbing slightly as if your silent answer had been enough.  

The two of you stood like that for a moment, your breathing steadying as his grip loosened by degrees, though his hands never left you entirely.  

“Do you want to meet Fifi?” he asked, his voice breaking the quiet like a crack of light through the heavy atmosphere.  

You blinked, turning slightly to glance over your shoulder at him, catching the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.  

“Fifi?” you asked, the absurdity of the name pulling a huff of surprise from you.  

“Fifi.” he repeated, releasing you slowly and stepping back, his hands lingering for just a second longer than they needed to. “C’mon, you’ll like her.”  

He reached for your hand without hesitation, his fingers curling around yours with an ease that felt oddly intimate. Before you could think too hard about it, he was leading you down a narrow hallway.

“Who’s Fifi?” you asked as you walked, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. 

That hallway felt longer than it should have, the shadows stretching and pooling in strange shapes as Alexander led you down it. He didn’t say anything, and you didn’t ask where he was taking you. The house had a peculiar hush to it, broken only by the creak of floorboards beneath your feet and the faint sound of your breathing.  

Finally, he stopped in front of a room. “You’ll see.” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost like he was preparing himself as much as you.  

The room was warmer, cozier than you expected. A small fire crackled in the corner, its light casting a golden glow over worn furniture. A blanket that looked as though it had been mended countless times draped across a faded armchair near the fire, and on the rug before it was…  

“Fifi.” Alexander said, gesturing as your gaze locked on the figure by the fire.  

It took you a moment to process what you were seeing. She almost looked alive. Her fur was pristine, her body perfectly posed as though she’d just paused mid-stretch. Her head was tilted slightly, her ears perked up, her tail curling delicately around her paws. But there was something about her stillness.  The absolute stillness. Not even the rise and fall of breath, not even the faintest twitch of her ear. Too perfect, too unnatural. It was wrong.  

Your breath caught in your throat as the realization hit.  

“She’s…not alive.” you said, barely above a whisper. 

Alexander crouched beside her, brushing his fingers gently over her head as if she could still feel his touch. His movements were slow, deliberate, almost reverent.  

“No.” he said quietly. “She’s not.”  

“She’s…she’s beautiful.” you managed, your voice low.  

“She was.” he replied. You didn’t know what to say. There was a deep ache in his voice, a rawness that made the words feel heavier than you expected. “She and Lulu were so close.” he continued. “Always together, always…inseparable. I couldn’t pull them apart. Not even…after.”  

Your stomach twisted, and you took a hesitant step closer, unable to look away from the eerily lifelike cat. “What- what happened?”  

“She got sick.” Alexander said, his voice low, his eyes never leaving her. “It was quick, but I wasn’t quick enough. I couldn’t…couldn’t stop it.” He paused, his fingers trailing down her back, smoothing her fur in a motion so gentle it made you ache for him too. “She was…special. I couldn’t just let her go. I couldn’t break them apart. So…”  

He trailed off, glancing up at you with a look that was equal parts defiant and vulnerable. 

“So you…” you trailed off, your mind racing to make sense of what you were seeing. “You saved her?” you asked softly.  

He nodded. “I preserved her. I made sure she’d stay with us.”   

“Like the birds?” 

“Like the birds.” he confirmed, a faint smile tugging at his lips, or more like his lips twitched, but there was no humor in it. “She almost looks alive, doesn’t she?”  

You nodded, swallowing hard as you looked back at her. She did look alive. Too alive. It was like looking at a snapshot frozen in time, the life drained away but the image remaining. The firelight played across her fur in a way that made her seem like she might move at any second, but she remained so utterly still it messed with your mind.  

“It messed with me at first, too.” Alexander admitted, his voice breaking through your thoughts. “Seeing her like this. But it was better than the alternative. Better than…” He trailed off, shaking his head.  

“She almost looks like she could just…” You didn’t finish, but your fingers twitched unconsciously, like you wanted to reach out and touch her, test if she’d respond.  

“She can’t.” Alexander said firmly, as if reading your mind. “But she’s here. That’s enough.” The fire crackled behind him, the warmth doing little to soften the coldness of the moment. “She was always the calm one. Lulu’s the wild one, the troublemaker. Fifi just…balanced her out.”  

Your heart clenched at the affection in his voice, the way he spoke about her like she was still here, still alive, still his.  

“Do you miss her?” 

“Every day.” he said simply.  

He rose slowly, his hand lingering on Fifi’s head for a moment before he straightened. He turned to face you, his eyes searching yours.  

“But she’s still here.” he said, his voice soft but firm. “And she always will be.” He stood fully then, brushing his hands off lightly, though you doubted there was anything to brush away. “Do you think it’s strange?” he asked suddenly.  

“I…” you hesitated, unsure how to answer.  

“It’s okay if you do.” he said, shrugging off the question like it didn’t matter. But the way he looked at you — the way his gaze lingered, searching — made it clear it did.  

“I think…” you swallowed, your mouth dry. “I think you loved her.”  

That caught him off guard. For a moment, something flickered in his eyes. “I did.” he said, his voice softer now, almost a whisper. “I still do. Do you want to stay?” he asked.  

You nodded and he gave you a small wistful smile.  

“C’mon.” he said, gesturing toward the armchair. “Sit. Lulu’ll come say hi properly soon enough. She likes visitors.”  

“And, uh…?” you asked, glancing back at the still, perfect figure by the fire.  

“She’s already said hi.” Alexander said, and there was a giggle at his thoughts before he said them out loud. “She’s quiet, but she’s good company.”  

You settled into the chair, the blanket soft against your fingers. Alexander lingered before he finally glanced down at himself. His hands moved absently over his shirt, brushing at the dark stains of blood and smudges of dirt. His brow furrowed, his lips pressing into a tight line as though the grime offended him in some deep, inexplicable way. He rubbed harder, but the stains were too set, and with a frustrated huff, he dropped his hands and stood.  

Then his fingers went to his belt.  

Your eyes went wide, pulse quickening as your mind leaped to the worst conclusions.  

“What?” Alexander asked, pausing with his fingers on the buckle, head tilting in that knowing, amused way he had. “Relax. I’m not gonna whip you, if that’s what you’re thinking. Just need to change.”  

“Oh.” you mumbled, feeling foolish for the overreaction. “Okay.”  

His lips quirked at your response, but he didn’t press it. He started loosening the leather strap from its loops. “You’re so…twitchy. Stop being so nervous around me.” His fingers paused on the button of his trousers, waiting.  

“Okay.” you whispered.  

He studied you for a moment, then nodded once, satisfied. “‘Kay…I’m gonna-” He gestured vaguely toward what you assumed was his bedroom.  

“Yeah.” you whispered again, unsure why your voice wouldn’t come out louder.  

He stepped away, his boots thudding lightly on the floorboards. The door to his room creaked open, just enough that you could see him through the gap. Whether on purpose or not, the sight held you captive.  

The quiet intimacy of the moment settled over you as heavy as the blanket, suffocating and comforting all at once. Your eyes darted away as his figure moved through the half-open door, but your gaze betrayed you almost instantly, drawn back to him. There was something magnetic about the way he carried himself, even now, when he wasn’t performing, wasn’t trying to keep your attention. He didn’t need to.  

His hands moved with ease, slipping it from the loops all the way with a quiet whish. The leather hung in his grip for a moment before he tossed it onto a chair in the corner.  

“I can feel you watching.” he called out, almost teasing.  

You froze, heat rushing to your face, but he didn’t turn to look at you.  

“It’s fine.” he added, glancing over his shoulder briefly, his lips quirking into a small, knowing smirk. “I’d be looking too.”  

You tried to muster a response, something clever, something to cut through the thickness, but all you managed was a faint, breathless laugh. His brows raised slightly, as though he were giving you a chance to take it back, but you didn’t. He nodded, almost to himself, and resumed undressing.  

You should’ve looked away. You knew that. But you didn’t. Couldn’t.  

It was as if he wasn’t even aware of how captivating his movements seemed to you. The button came loose, the zipper dragged down, and he stepped out of his pants with ease, leaving only the soft fabric of his socks between his feet and the cold floor. Something about that small detail made your stomach twist. Floors were cold. He thought of such practical things.  

You watched Alexander as if through a veil, strangely unguarded. The faint crackle of the fire played as the only soundtrack to his quiet ritual. The stained shirt slid off his shoulders and pooled at his feet. His skin caught the firelight, a pale canvas marred only by faint marks — scratches, scars, and stories you hadn’t yet heard. The curve of his back, the muscles shifting under his skin as he moved, was somehow more intimate than any touch you’d shared. Because yes, you’d touched him before — his lips, his neck — but seeing him like this was different. He looked different. Every curve and dip turned into something impossibly soft and impossibly sharp all at once. For a moment, all you could do was stare at the smooth expanse of his bare skin. 

It wasn’t deliberate, you told yourself. It was the kind of beauty that didn’t feel deliberate, the kind that sneaks up on you and knocks the air from your lungs. But it felt like it was, as though the universe had arranged this moment just to ensnare you.  

You swallowed hard, your breath catching in your throat. The scene felt too raw, too intimate, as though you’d stumbled into a moment that wasn’t meant for anyone else.  

You couldn’t help but follow the motion of his hands. When he bent slightly to pick up a pair of plaid pants, you caught yourself biting your lip and holding your breath. He stepped into them, pulling them up his hips, the fabric loose but clinging just enough to remind you there was nothing beneath them.

The casual intimacy of it all, paired with his unassuming confidence, the domesticity of it all was jarring. It felt too normal, too soft for someone like him, for someone like you. Yet here he was, not an ounce of menace in his movements, just a man getting comfortable in his own space. It was too ordinary. Too real. But in this setting — his sanctuary, his home — it was anything but.  

Alexander slipped a sweater over his head, the loose fit skimming his frame but clinging just enough to hint at the strength beneath. His hands lingered at the hem, brushing the top of his pants as he ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it slightly. When he finally turned, his eyes caught yours through the sliver of the open door.  

“Caught you staring.” he said.  

You blinked, heat flooding your face as you looked away quickly, your gaze dropping to the rug at your feet. “I wasn’t-”  

“Yes, you were.” he interrupted. The sweater hung loose enough that the neckline dipped to expose a sliver of his chest. He looked comfortable, but in a way that felt oddly dangerous, as though comfort made him even more of a threat. “What?” he asked, a faint smile playing on his lips.  

“Nothing.” you said quickly, tearing your eyes away.  

He stood in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, arms crossed over his chest. “You’re staring again.”  

“Am not.”  

“Are too.”  

You didn’t bother denying it further, the heat in your cheeks giving you away.  

“See something you like?” he asked.  

You rolled your eyes, but it lacked conviction. “You wish.”  

“I don’t need to wish.” he said, pushing off the doorframe and stepping closer. “I know.”  

His confidence made your pulse race, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing it. “You’re full of yourself, you know that?”  

He crouched down in front of you, the smirk softening into something more thoughtful. “You keep looking, though. You’re always watching me.” he said, his voice quieter now, almost contemplative.  

“I-”  

“It’s okay.” he interrupted. “I like it.”  

The confession stole your breath, and for a moment, you could only stare at him, your chest tight.  

“Go on.” he said. “Say something. Or just keep staring. Either works for me.”  

You laughed, the sound nervous but genuine, and he grinned, standing back to his full height. “I’m just…curious.” you muttered, trying to mask how much his proximity affected you. Your breath hitched as he reached out, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

“Curious?” he asked, his voice dropping, the single word hanging between you.  

“Maybe.” you admitted softly.  

“Curious about what?”  

You hesitated, unsure if you even had an answer. “About you.”  

Alexander’s lips curved into a small smile. “Careful.” he murmured, his voice a low warning. “Curiosity killed the cat.”  

You raised a brow, trying to match his tone. “Good thing I’m not a cat.”  

His smile widened, a soft chuckle escaping him. “Touché.”  

The moment stretched between you, heavy with unspoken tension. Then, just as quickly as it had settled, he broke it, standing and running a hand through his hair. He did that a lot.

“C’mon.” he said, glancing back at you as he headed toward the kitchen. “I’ll make us something warm.”  

You nodded, rising to follow him, but your gaze lingered on him a moment longer, the domestic scene etched into your memory. Alexander might have looked at ease in this space, but there was something about him that told you it would never be that simple.

“Still staring.” he teased, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.  

“Still worth looking at.” you shot back before you could think better of it.  

“I could say the same.” he said quietly.  

He reached for a pot, his fingers steady despite the faint tremor in the air around him. The burner clicked several times as he turned the knob, sparks stubbornly refusing to ignite until finally, a small blue flame leapt to life. Water from the tap filled the thing, stream rushing steadily before he shut it off with a flick of his wrist. Reaching into a small tin near the counter, he pinched out loose tea leaves and scattered them. They floated on the surface before slowly sinking, already beginning to stain the water a faint golden hue.

“Gonna take a while.” Alexander murmured. Only then did you notice the faint, acrid scent of gas in the air.

“You don’t even have a proper kettle?” you asked, incredulous.  

“This works for me.”  

“Fuddy duddy.” you muttered under your breath, but loud enough for him to hear. You didn’t look at him when you said it, keeping your focus on the stove as if that would shield you from his reaction.  

Alexander straightened immediately, his smirk deepening. “What did you just call me, eh?” he asked, laced with that thickened accent he seemed to pull out when he wanted to catch you off guard.  

“Fuddy duddy.” you repeated. 

He raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering across his face as he took a slow step toward you. “And what’s that mean, then?”  

“You know what it means.” you said, though your voice faltered when you noticed the way he was looking at you.  

“Maybe I don’t. Tell me.” he said, closing the distance between you, his hands slipping into his pockets as he stopped just close enough to make your breath hitch.  

“You’re really weird, Alexander.” you said instead, hoping to redirect the conversation from the way you nervously stood under his gaze.  

“And yet you’re still here.” he countered easily.  

“I… uh…” Your words stumbled out, and you hated the way he made you feel so disarmed. “I guess so.” you finished weakly, feeling heat creep.  

“Mhm.” he hummed, a deep sound that resonated in his chest, and then — before you could process what was happening — he leaned in and kissed you.  

It was quick. Too quick. Casual, almost careless, and yet it left you breathless. His lips brushed yours with the perfect blend of warmth and pressure, and the tingling sensation lingered long after he pulled away.  

It felt too good for how brief it was, like a stolen moment you wanted to steal back.  

Your heart thundered in your chest as you stared at him, but Alexander didn’t linger. He turned on his heel and strode back to the sofa, leaving you rooted in place, stunned.  

You followed him like you couldn’t help yourself. You didn’t know what drove you to trail after him like a shadow — or worse, more embarrassingly, like a lost puppy — but there you were, settling onto the sofa beside him, your legs curling up over his lap.  

There was a moment of hesitation before draping your legs over his lap, testing the waters. Alexander welcomed the closeness immediately, his large hands moving instinctively to rest on your calves. His palms were warm. 

“Are you gonna kill me now?” you asked, your voice tinged with nervous laughter.  

His fingers traced idle patterns across your legs. His nails dragged lightly over you, and even through the layer of fabric, it still sent an involuntary shiver up your spine.  

“Why does it sound like you’d want me to?” he asked.  

Your eyes flickered down to his hands. There were still faint streaks of red clinging to the edges of his nails, stubbornly clinging like ghosts of earlier actions. The sight should have repulsed you. Should have made you pull away.  

Instead, you whispered, “Maybe I do.”  

His brows lifted slightly in surprise, and then he chuckled, low and rough. His hands resumed their movement, rubbing and kneading gently. “I’m not gonna kill ya.” 

“Okay.” you murmured, though your pulse thrummed in your ears, betraying the strange mix of fear and desire curling inside.  

You didn’t know what possessed you to move, but you climbed into his lap, straddling him with a boldness you hadn’t realised you had. Your hands found purchase on his shoulders, and your knees pressed into the sofa on either side of his hips, bracketing him in.  

His eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t stop you.  

You kissed him again, but this time it wasn’t quick or casual or fleeting. It was slow, deliberate, wet. Your lips moved against his with purpose and his moved against yours with just enough pressure to make you ache for more. His lips, soft and unexpectedly plush, almost pillowy, caught you off guard, their fullness hidden from your eyes, only to be felt.  

But then there was his beard. Rough, bristling against your skin like a low hum beneath the kiss. You hadn’t expected to think about it so much. It should’ve been a distraction, maybe even a deterrent, but somehow it wasn’t. The wiry hair scratched faintly at the corners of your mouth and chin, yet it wasn’t harsh. Just rough enough to remind you that he was there, fully and tangibly, while his lips stayed so maddeningly gentle.  

It didn’t bother you, though. God, it didn’t bother you at all. In fact, it made everything worse — or better — because you could feel every tiny sensation amplified. You told yourself to stop focusing on it, to let yourself sink into the kiss entirely, to drown in the way his hands cupped your waist like you were something he’d been waiting to hold for years.  

But you couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help noticing the way his it tickled your skin when he shifted, the way it somehow made his kiss feel even more intimate. And it was intimate. The kind of kiss that dissolved everything else in the world until it was just you and him and the rhythm of lips and tongues.  

It hit you then, as his hand slid to cradle the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair and pulling you impossibly closer: You weren’t thinking about his beard. Not really. You were thinking about him, and how he kissed like it was the only thing he’d ever wanted to do, like he was pouring something unspoken into you.  

Fuck. 

The thought hit you like a punch to the chest, and it made you press into him harder, your lips parting slightly to taste him more fully. And he matched you and it was making you forget how to breathe.

You caught his bottom lip between yours, tugging it gently, and the sound he made — a low, nearly inaudible groan — sent a thrill through you.  

His hands found your waist again, steadying you as you pressed closer, your chest brushing against his. When the kiss broke, you stayed close, your noses almost touching, your breath mingling in the space between you.  

“You’re full of surprises.” he murmured, his voice rough and gravelly, like the crunch of leaves underfoot from earlier.  

“Am I?” you asked.  

He nodded, his fingers tightening slightly on your waist. “One moment you’re nervous as a kitten, the next you’re climbing me like a tree.”  

You laughed softly, the sound bubbling up before you could stop it. “You still make me nervous.” you admitted.  

“It’s different now.” he said, his lips curving into a half-smile. “Means I’m doing something right.”  

“You’re ridiculous.” you teased, though your words lacked any real bite.  

“And you’re trouble.” he countered, his hands sliding lower.  

“Guess we’re a good match, then.” you said, leaning in again, your lips hovering just over his.  

Alexander’s smile widened, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you down against him. “Guess we are.” he murmured before capturing your lips once more, this time deeper, hungrier, as if he didn’t want to let you go. 

He felt good beneath you, solid and grounding, but somehow you were the one left feeling dirty, like you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t. Despite everything, despite the way his hands gripped your hips like they were meant to fit there, it felt like you were the pervert in this scenario. Was it because you jumped him like that, or was it the way you couldn’t seem to keep your hands off him, drawn to him like a moth to a flame?  

Were you? A pervert? No, that didn’t feel right. It wasn’t just you. It wasn’t just him. This was both of you, a tangled mess of desire and recklessness. Maybe there was no one to blame. Maybe this was just…  

“Ah- careful there.” he hissed suddenly, pulling you out of your thoughts.  

You froze, alarmed. “What? What happened?”  

“You’re pressing on me too hard.” he said, voice tight but tinged with amusement, like he couldn’t fully bring himself to be annoyed.  

For a brief moment, your eyes flicked downward, heat rushing to your cheeks as you realized what you might be pressing on. But then you noticed his thigh twitch beneath you, his hand coming up to rub it absently.  

His hiss wasn’t about what you thought it was.  

“Hurt your manhood?” you teased, leaning in closer to breathe him in, his scent warm and woodsy with a faint metallic undertone. Your lips ghosted against the curve of his neck as you spoke, feeling the subtle scratch of stubble against your skin.  

“Nah.” he grunted, but there was a strained edge to his voice. “I just…pulled something in my leg. Hurts when I move it wrong.”  

You tilted your head, concerned now. “What, like a muscle?”  

“Somethin’ like that.” he said, shifting slightly under you to ease the tension. His hands came up and he pushed you back just enough to look at you. “You wanna bite me?” he asked, his tone casual, but there was something darker simmering beneath it.  

“I-”  

He didn’t wait for an answer. His hands rose to his hair, fingers raking through it in one smooth motion, and then you saw it — how easily he slipped a tie from his wrist, like it had been hiding there for this exact moment. You hadn’t even noticed it before, but now it felt like a deliberate choice, like he’d been waiting for this.  

The motion was seamless, practiced, as he gathered his hair back and tied it out of his face. His neck was exposed now, pale and smooth, a faint vein visible under the surface.  

“You can bite me now.” he said, and there was something in his voice — an edge, a challenge, a dare. He tilted his head to the side, offering himself up, bare and vulnerable.  

Exposed, to ruin. At your disposal.  

But his eyes, locked on yours, told a different story. This was still his terrain, his rules. You might hold the power to leave marks, but only because he allowed it.  

“Does it still hurt?” you asked instead, glancing down at the leg beneath you. You could feel the faint tension in the muscle, the way his body instinctively tried to shield it from further strain.  

His gaze darkened, and his hand came up to cup your chin, firm, not yet rough. “Bite me.” he ordered, vibrating through the small space between you.  

Your heart raced. Fear and exhilaration. He was giving you control, but only as far as he dictated. The way his hand lingered on your face told you he wouldn’t let you escape until you did exactly what he asked.  

Tentatively, you leaned in, your lips brushing against his neck, feeling the heat of his skin and the faint thrum of his pulse beneath it.  

“That’s it.” he murmured, his other hand settling on your hip to keep you steady. “Good girl.”  

The words sent a shiver through you, and without thinking, your teeth grazed his skin.  

He hissed again, but this time it wasn’t from pain. It was something deeper, something primal. His grip on your hip tightened, and you felt his body respond beneath you, the tension in his thigh momentarily forgotten.  

“Harder.” he whispered.  

Your teeth sank in a little deeper, leaving an imprint that faded almost as quickly as it appeared.  

“Don’t be shy.” he said, his lips curving into wickedness. “You can do better than that.”  

You bit down harder this time, enough to leave a mark that would last, and his hand slid from your chin to the back of your neck, holding you there for a moment longer than necessary.  

When you finally pulled back, he exhaled slowly, his eyes half-lidded as he looked at you.  

“Better.” he said. “Knew you had it in you.” 

That’s when he thrust his hips up and dragged you down, as if it were some kind of reward for the bite you’d just delivered. And it did feel like one — good in a way that made you want more. You shifted, trying to settle into the friction he was offering, but it wasn’t enough. The vague shape and pressure of him were driving you mad, and you made a small, frustrated huff that slipped out before you could stop it.  

“Off?” he asked, and you realised his fingers were already brushing against the button of your pants.  

You swallowed hard and nodded. His hands moved with an efficiency that almost startled you, undoing the button and slipping it through the loop with practiced ease. The zipper followed, the faint rasp of metal teeth breaking the silence in the room, and then he paused, waiting.  

You took over, fingers trembling slightly as you gripped the waistband and shimmied the pants down your hips. You couldn’t help the way you rubbed your thighs together as you worked, partly to help get them off and partly to keep the cold from creeping up on your exposed skin. The air bit at you the moment the fabric was gone, your legs prickling with goosebumps you hated.  

“You’re cold.” he murmured, sitting up just enough to pull you closer, his hands sliding over your thighs in a gesture that felt more possessive than comforting.  

“I’m fine.” you whispered, even though you shivered when his fingers dragged up and down the outside of your legs.  

“Liar.” he said, but there was no malice, just a faint smile. “C’mere.”  

You weren’t sure what he meant until his hands were on your waist, pulling you closer until you were practically plastered to him, his sweater soft against your chest. You braced yourself on his shoulders, your thighs straddling his, and the heat radiating from his body was intoxicating.  

“You better be warmed up now.” he said, his lips brushing against your ear. “Otherwise…”  

“Otherwise, what?” you asked, breathless from the way his hands roamed, one skimming over the curve of your ass while the other cupped the back of your neck.  

“Otherwise, I’ll just have to warm you up properly.” 

You couldn’t even respond. He tilted his hips up again, dragging himself against you, and the pressure sent a spark of heat shooting through you.  

“Feel that?” he murmured. “That’s what you’re doing to me.”  

You nodded, swallowing hard, and his hand slid down to grip more firmly as he shifted you against him again.  

“Good girl.” he said, the words like velvet, and you felt your face heat at the praise.  

It wasn’t enough. You wanted more of him, needed it, and you leaned in, capturing his lips in a kiss that was anything but soft. He met you with equal intensity, his tongue sliding against yours as his hands tightened their grip on you.  

His breath was warm against your mouth when he finally pulled back, his eyes dark as they studied you. “You still cold?”  

You shook your head, feeling far too warm now, and he grinned, his hands starting to roam again.  

“Good.” he said, voice rough and teasing. “Then I don’t have to hold back.” 

“Mmm…no.” you mumbled, your attention drifting back to his neck, hips grinding down in those slow, wavy patterns that sent heat pooling low in your stomach. He felt every shift, every deliberate twist of your spine as you moved over him, brushing over his cock with a rhythm that seemed to leave him undone and enraptured at once. His eyes followed the path your body carved, mesmerised by the way you melted against him.

“Do you want me?” he asked, voice quiet and rough, pitched low enough for only you to hear.  

You made a soft noise of agreement, not trusting your words, and the sound seemed to trigger something in him. He chuckled and his hands tightened. His nails dug into your flesh right where the edge of your panties met bare skin, the sting sharp.  

You whimpered at the sensation, your body involuntarily jerking at the pressure, and that was when he twitched beneath you — hard and insistent, the reaction so obvious you couldn’t miss it. It pulled a heat from you, a flush that crawled up your chest and neck.  

“She’s watching.” he murmured, skittering down your spine. “You want me to fuck you with her watching?”  

For a moment, you couldn’t quite follow his words. Your mind, muddled with need, caught up too slowly, and then realisation struck you.  

“She’s…” you trailed off, suddenly uncertain, the moment teetering on an edge you weren’t sure how to balance. What would he think if you said it? Would it matter? “She’s…dead.”  

It felt wrong to say it. Wrong in this moment, and wrong in this space that he had filled with something unknowable. His brow furrowed faintly at your words, but not in anger or even sadness.  

“Death isn’t that simple.” he said, his voice a little softer now, like he was trying to explain something you couldn’t yet understand.  

“I know, but-” you started, but he interrupted.  

“She’s not gone, you know?” there was a strange conviction to it, the kind that made you pause. “I’ve seen death. Real death. I’ve watched beings…go away, slip through my hands. And somehow, she’s still here. I know it.”  

You froze, your movements stilling. The intimacy of the moment felt suddenly inappropriate, like you were intruding on something sacred.  

But he noticed the hesitation, and his hands gripped your hips tighter, pushing you forward, forcing you to move again. He didn’t say anything about it, but the look in his eyes told you enough: don’t stop.  

“Do you believe me?” he asked after a moment, his voice low and insistent.  

“I…I don’t know.” you admitted, breathless as you fell back into the rhythm he demanded, your body responding even as your mind swirled.  

He hummed, vibrating. “You don’t have to know. You’ll see. She’s here, in this space…I feel her.”  

Your movements faltered again, but this time, he didn’t push you. Instead, he reached for your face, cupping your cheek in one large, warm hand. “She’s not watching to judge. She’d want this. She’d want you to feel alive.”  

It didn’t make sense — not in a way you could fully comprehend — but the way he said it made you believe it, if only for the moment. You nodded slowly, your body relaxing into his touch, and he rewarded you with a smile that felt both dark and soft, a combination that was so uniquely him it made your heart stutter.  

“Now, don’t stop. Make her proud.” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm against the strange weight of the conversation. 

And with that, he guided you again, his hands firm on your hips, pulling you against him in a way that chased away every other thought but him. He was an odd man. Jesus Christ, he was strange, and yet that strangeness pulled at something in you. Maybe he saw it too, sensed it somewhere deep inside.  

“Make me proud.” 

That you would. Or at least, you’d try. Something inside you drove you to obey him — not for your own pleasure, but for his. Somehow, his pleasure became yours, as though his approval, his satisfaction, was all you craved.  

Your hands trembled slightly as you hooked your fingers under the waistband of his pants, slowly pulling them down. Your eyes darted back to the spots on his neck, the faint shadows where your lips had kissed and bitten earlier, fixating there as you worked.  

He noticed. Of course he did. He noticed everything.  

“Why’re you looking there?” he murmured. You didn’t answer, but your pupils twitched, refusing to settle on one spot. His eyes followed your gaze before dropping back to your face. “You can look at it.” he said softly, like a suggestion.  

But you couldn’t. Not yet. You glanced into his eyes instead, searching for something, though you didn’t know what.  

“Look at my cock.” he said again, this time with a tone that left no room for argument.  

A quiet command, steady and unrelenting. Something about it shut you up and stripped away whatever resistance was left in you. Your gaze dropped almost involuntarily, and when you saw it, you swallowed hard. It looked just as good as it had felt the last time: thick, flushed, and solid in a way that made your thighs clench together.  

Your hand reached for it tentatively at first, fingers wrapping around the base to feel its weight and warmth. He hissed softly at the contact, but his hands never left your waist, steadying you as much as they anchored him.  

You leaned back into his neck, pressing your lips against the bruises you’d already left there, letting your breath tickle his skin. “Fuck me.” you whispered, barely audible.  

“What was that?” he hummed, one eyebrow lifting as his fingers tightened their grip on you.  

“Fuck…me.” you said again, louder this time, punctuating it with another bite, firmer now, to make your point clear.  

He hummed again. For a second, it almost seemed like he was disappointed. Like he wanted you to ask better, to beg better.  

“Please.” you tried, your voice trembling as you tilted your head against his.  

His response wasn’t verbal. His hand slipped between your thighs, pressing lightly over the cotton of your panties. The faintest brush of his fingers sent a jolt through you, a teasing promise of something more.  

“Daddy, please.” you said again, desperation seeping into your voice. It wasn’t just need — it was need, raw and exposed, and the whimper that followed made it sound like you might cry.  

And that was it. That was what he wanted.  

“There we go.” he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he spoke. One hand stayed firm on your waist while the other pushed your panties to the side. The cool air against your bare skin was sharp and shocking, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except him, the way his fingers grazed over you, gathering your slick and spreading it as though savoring every second.  

“You’re such a good girl.” he said, his voice a low rasp. “All mine, aren’t ya?”  

“Yes.” you whispered, your breath hitching. “All yours.”  

“Prove it.” he said simply, and then his fingers slid inside you, slow but deliberate, making you gasp. His thumb pressed lightly against your clit, teasing, testing, until your hips bucked into his hand.  

You tried to speak, tried to say something, but all that came out was a moan. He chuckled, pleased, and kissed your temple softly as he worked his hand against you.  

“You can take me, can’t ya?” he asked, his voice dripping with faux sweetness. His fingers scissored inside you, stretching, testing your limits. “Say it. Say you’re ready for Daddy.”  

“I’m ready.” you whimpered, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “I’m ready for you.”  

“Mhm…” he said with a grin, pulling his fingers free and wiping them on your thigh. Then, with both hands firm on your waist, he adjusted you, guiding you over him like you were meant to be there, like you were meant for him.  

“Go on.” he said, his voice low and taunting as he positioned himself against you. “Show me how much you want me.”

You took him all at once, your walls stretching to accommodate him, and the sharp gasp that escaped your lips was matched by the low groan rumbling in his throat. A shiver ran through his entire body as he gripped your hips, fingers digging into your skin. His reaction told you everything — you knew he liked it, maybe even more than you did, though that was hard to imagine.  

“Fuck, you feel so good.” he murmured, his voice rough and shaky.  

Your response was wordless at first, just a low moan as you started to move, slowly at first, finding a rhythm. But soon, you bounced on him, seeking more. Somehow, you were so wet that the obscene sounds of him filling you drowned out everything else, even the crackle of the fire just a few feet away.  

It sounded dirty. It felt dirty. 

And he loved it.  

“Listen to that.” he said, his eyes half-lidded as he glanced down between your bodies. His thumb brushed against your clit for emphasis, spreading your slick around, and the way you clenched around him made him groan again. “You’re a mess. Fuckin’ perfect.”  

You whimpered, your head tipping back, heat pooling in your stomach as your hips ground down onto him. “I- God, I can’t…you’re so big.” you managed to say, words tumbling out without thought.  

“You’re takin’ it.” he said, his voice filled with pride and teasing. “Every fuckin’ inch, huh? Look at you, so good for me.”  

Your hands found his shoulders, gripping tightly for support as your movements grew more frantic. He helped you along, meeting your bounces with upward thrusts, deep and deliberate. Each time he filled you, he made you feel so utterly full, and you knew he was hitting every spot just right, making you cry out. He hit every spot so perfectly that it left you breathless, your mind reeling with the overwhelming sensation of him stretching and claiming you.

Then, without warning, he stilled.  

You gasped in confusion as he pulled out of you completely, the emptiness leaving you clenching around nothing. Before you could ask why, he was stroking himself, right in front of you. All slick with your wetness, his cock gleamed in the firelight, his fingers wrapped tightly around the base. He wasn’t subtle about it either, groaning low as his thumb traced over the swollen tip, teasing himself.  

“Why-” you stammered, blinking at him. “Al…why?”  

He looked up at you through heavy-lidded eyes. “Beg for it.”  

Your breath hitched. “What?”  

“You heard me.” he said, his tone firm but teasing, his strokes becoming slower, almost lazy. “You want it back, you beg for it.”  

Your cheeks flushed with heat, and your pride twisted in protest. But the ache between your legs was louder, demanding, insistent. “Please.” you whispered, voice trembling.  

“Not good enough.” he said, leaning back slightly, his free hand resting on your thigh. “You want me to fuck you again, you better tell me exactly how bad you want it.”  

You swallowed hard, trying to find your words. “I…I need you.” you said, your voice cracking. “I need you so bad. Please, I want to feel you inside me again. I’ll be good, I promise.”  

His smirk widened. “There’s my girl.”  

He shifted forward, his hands finding your waist as he guided you back into position. His cock brushed against your entrance, and the tease of it made you squirm. Then he wrapped his fingers around the base again, stretching them wide along the length of it, making it look even bigger as he angled it to press against you.  

“You ready?” he asked, his voice thick with restraint.  

You nodded, bracing yourself.  

Alexander didn’t let go of his cock. His fingers stayed wrapped around the base, stretched wide and firm. He was already thick, so solid. And when he pushed you down, it was immediate, almost unbearable, his fingers sliding in alongside his cock, stretching you impossibly.  

You gasped, your nails digging into his forearms as you tried to take him, as your body trembled at the intrusion. The feeling made you feel so unbearably full, every nerve ending sparking as you sank lower.  

“Shit-” he hissed, his jaw tightening as he watched you struggle to take it all. “That’s it…just like that. Feel that? How full you are?”  

“Al- oh my God-” you whimpered, your voice breaking. You felt yourself teetering somewhere on the edge of pain and pleasure. You didn’t even know what you were taking, how much of him was inside you. All you knew was that it was too much and still not enough.  

But Alexander was transfixed, his gaze locked on the way your body struggled. His mouth hung open, a flush spreading across his cheeks and down his neck. His chest rose and fell in quick, uneven breaths, the fabric of his sweater stretching with each motion. His fingers flexed, pressing against your walls as he pushed you down further, his cock filling every inch of you at the same time. “You’re so goddamn tight.” he muttered. “I can feel you squeezing me already. Fuck- keep going, princess. Don’t stop now.”  

“I can’t…it’s too much.” you whimpered, tears prickling in your eyes as your body fought to adjust.  

That finally caught his attention. His eyes flicked up to meet yours and when he spotted the shiny traces on your cheeks you could practically see the sparks inside his head.

“Yes, you can.” he said firmly, his hands gripping your hips as he took control. He moved you, dragging you down further. He was encouraging enough that you didn’t feel like you were only being used, but he was using you all the same. You didn’t mind it either way. But words did help, and it also meant you got to hear his voice. “Look at you. Look how good you take me.”  

Your head tipped back, your chest heaving as you gasped for breath. The heat pooling deep in your belly was unbearable, the pressure building with every inch. “It hurts.” you whimpered, barely able to form the words.  

“Hurts so good, doesn’t it?” he murmured, his voice low and coaxing. His fingers twitched again, pressing deeper, as if testing your limits. “God, you’re a greedy little thing. Taking all of me like this.”  

You shook your head, your hands scrambling at his shoulders. “I…I can’t-”  

Finally, he released you, letting his hands trace up your sides, his fingers leaving ghostly trails of heat in their wake. His cock twitched inside you now, and the feeling of him pulsing against your walls sent a jolt straight through you.  

“Fuck.” he groaned, his head tipping back. “That’s all me, baby. All mine.”  

“Alexander-” you gasped, your nails digging into his skin through his sweater.  

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asked, and your head went over the mocking tone in those words even as his hands kept you firmly in place.  

“I- I’m so close.” you said, your voice trembling as the pressure inside you built.  

“Yeah?” he teased, smirking up at you. “You gonna come all over me? Gonna make a mess for Daddy, huh?”  

You could barely respond, just a desperate nod as your movements became erratic. He slowed you slightly, forcing your hips into a deeper, slower grind that had you seeing stars and nothing at all, all at once.  

“There it is.” he said, taunting. “Feel that? That’s me, deep inside. You love it, don’t ya?”  

“Yes.” you whimpered, tears prickling at your eyes all over again. “Yes, I love it, I love-”  

His hands gripped your face suddenly, forcing you to look at him, your movements stuttering for a moment. His eyes burned into yours, wild and dark but filled with something…more.

“Say it again.” he growled, his voice rough.  

“I love it.” you said, your voice breaking slightly.  

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. He thought you would have…maybe. But you didn’t. He didn’t know why he was expecting that of you. You’d get there eventually. Now he just held you, his gaze unrelenting, his hips still rolling up into you. Then his lips crashed into yours, messy and consuming, swallowing every sound you made as you came undone.  

“So good for me.” he murmured against your mouth, his own voice trembling now. “All mine.”  

“All yours.” you echoed, clinging to him as the world seemed to blur around you.  

“Good.” he said, his lips brushing against your ear as he thrust into you one last time, harder and deeper than before. “Now come for me, princess. Let me feel it.”  

And you did.

And then his torso twitched beneath your hands, his muscles tightening as he hovered on the edge. You held onto him, clutching at whatever part of him you could find — his shoulders, his arms, even his hair, that tightly tied thing your fingers fought their way into — anchoring yourself as the intensity swept through you both. He hissed through his teeth, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths as he took in the way your body gripped him, inside and out, everywhere.  

With a shudder, he pulled out abruptly, leaving you trembling and clinging to him for balance. The sudden absence made you gasp, but the heat of his skin against yours didn’t falter. He leaned back slightly, his fist wrapping around himself, stroking with quick, wet pulls coated in a mix of you both. The sight was mesmerizing, the slick sounds filling the air as he hovered close, his eyes never leaving your flushed face.  

And then it happened. A guttural groan left his throat, low and broken as his release spilled out, painting your stomach and the curve of your thighs. His hand moved slower now, coaxing out every drop as he cursed under his breath. Somewhere between the heat of it all, you could feel the remnants of him pooling between you, sticky and warm.  

But before the moment could fully register, he was back, pressed into you.  

“Ah- no, no-” you babbled, your body jerking at the sensation of being filled again, the stretch almost too much to bear. Your hands flew to his shoulders, pushing lightly as your lips quivered around the words.  

“Shhh…” he hummed, like a low, calming vibration that only made the sensations sharper. His movements were slow, easing you into the overwhelming fullness.  

“Fuck…” he muttered, almost to himself. His breath fanned hot against your temple as he nuzzled closer. “I’m jus’ keeping you warm.” he reasoned, his tone tinged with something unrelenting, his body trembling with restraint.  

You whimpered, unsure if you could take more, but when his hands brushed over your skin, soothing and steady, you let out a shaky breath.  

“…Okay.” you whispered, your voice fragile but consenting.  

“Good girl.” he murmured, the praise slipping from his lips like a prayer as he stilled inside you. His nose brushed against your jaw, planting a soft kiss there before pulling back to watch you.

Your fingers traced weak, mindless patterns over his chest, your breaths uneven as you finally found words. “I didn’t think…” you started, voice hoarse, searching for the sentence as if it might steady you. “I didn’t think it’d feel like this. That you’d feel like this.”  

He hummed low in his throat, something soft and unbothered, but his mind was miles from your words, lost instead in the feeling of you. The way your body still clung to him, tight and warm, like it knew him, like it wanted to keep him. He could barely feel the air in his lungs because it was all concentrated there, at the seam where you met, holding him hostage in that perfect, agonizing grip.  

“What do you mean?” he asked after a beat, his voice a rasped afterthought. He didn’t mean to sound so absent, but his thoughts wouldn’t still. The way you looked — so undone, marked by him — the way you squirmed when his cock shifted ever so slightly inside you. He couldn’t stop thinking about it, couldn’t stop imagining what it would look like if he kept going, if he didn’t stop.  

You sighed, your forehead falling lightly against his as you searched for the right words. “I don’t know. It’s just-”  

“Yeah?” he urged, but even that sounded distant. He wasn’t really listening, not because he didn’t care but because he couldn’t focus. His whole body buzzed with the knowledge that you were still holding him inside you, still so tight, still so wet from him. Every nerve ending screamed for him to stay there, to sink deeper, to never leave.  

And yet, somewhere in the dark corners of his mind, the sharp memory of the tea interrupted. The pot, the fire, the burner still going. It was like an unwelcome ghost in the room, taunting him with the threat of reality.  

“Fuck.” he muttered, low and bitter.  

You blinked, startled by the sudden change. “What? What’s wrong?”  

He exhaled hard through his nose, his hands reluctantly sliding to your hips. “The tea.” His tone was tight, like the word itself hurt to say. “I- hold on.”  

You whimpered as he withdrew, the absence sharp and uncomfortable. He could feel it too, like losing a piece of himself, and it took everything in him not to push back in, to keep you where he wanted you.  

His hand lingered at your waist, almost apologetic as he tucked himself back into his pants. The wet, sticky remnants of you made the movement slow and deliberate, and when he pulled them up, it felt like locking away something vital.  

“Stay here.” he said, his voice low and rough, but not unkind. “I’ll be right back.”  

As he moved away, his body felt heavier, like gravity pulled harder without you against him. He glanced back once, just to see you there, mussed and flushed, staring after him with something too soft, too fragile. It made him want to destroy whatever distance was forming between you.  

But he forced himself to turn away, his strides purposeful but slow, the weight of his own longing heavy in the room. The burner hissed quietly when he reached the stove, and the faint, metallic scent of gas was much sharper now. He twisted the knob, killing the flame, and for a moment just stared at the pot.  

The tea was forgotten again in an instant, his mind rushing back to the sight of you, the feel of you, the way you’d whispered his name like it was a prayer. The pot clattered as he set it aside, more forceful than he intended, his hands already itching to return to you.  

This was always going to end badly, he thought. You, him — whatever this was — it had no end in sight that wasn’t ruinous. But maybe he liked it that way.

When Alexander came back, his steps softened as he approached the room, though his gaze immediately sharpened at the sight before him. You were leaning over the table by the window, your hands braced against its edge. The flickering light of the fire painted shadows along your back, your half-naked figure exposed in the dim glow.  

“Thought I told ya not to wander.” he said, his voice a low drawl.  

“I didn’t.” you shot back without turning to face him.  

It was only when his words settled that you became acutely aware of yourself — how vulnerable you were, bent over, bare from the waist down. The realization came with a flicker of heat that spread through your chest and flushed your neck, but it didn’t affect you nearly as much as it did him.  

He froze for a moment, a sharp intake of breath breaking the quiet. You turned your head, a small, knowing smirk tugging at your lips. “She came to say hi.” you said, stepping aside to reveal Lulu sitting primly at the edge of the table, her tail flicking lazily against the wood.  

Alexander exhaled through his nose, his expression softening as he walked over and set the cups down on the table. The faint clink of porcelain on wood was followed by the heavier weight of his presence as he stepped behind you. His arms wrapped around you, warm and solid, pulling you back against his chest. The scent of him surrounded you again and you felt the soft press of him against your spine.  

You expected something more — maybe words, maybe his lips at your neck — but he pulled back just as quickly, a sudden sharp crack splitting the air as his palm connected with your ass.  

The force of it made you stumble forward, your hips pressing into the table’s edge. A few drops of tea spilled from the cups, trailing like rivulets down the sides. You gasped, the sting blooming across your skin, but before you could say anything, he spoke.  

“You should go. It’s getting late.”  

The words hit you harder than the smack, though the tone in his voice kept the hurt from settling too deep. He didn’t want you gone, you realised. He wanted you safe.  

“Is that what you want?” you asked softly, turning to look at him.  

His gaze flickered, the weight of his internal struggle evident in the way his jaw tightened. “What I want doesn’t matter.” he said, but his hand lingered at your hip, his thumb tracing a slow circle against your skin.  

“It matters to me.” you pressed.  

He sighed, his forehead dipping until it brushed yours, the moment heavy with unspoken words. “You’ll be back.” he murmured, more a promise than a question.  

You nodded, leaning into him just enough to feel the solidity of his chest one last time. “Yeah.” you whispered.  

“Good.” he said. Then, reluctantly, he let you go.  

a/n: I’m not fully happy with this one, but it’s fine. I just feel like it doesn’t make a lot of sense at times, whatevah. It’s fine.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1k

Warnings: minor fluff, angst, murder (implied), character death

Summary: One good deed turns into your worst nightmare, one that you can’t stop from coming.

Square Filled: heartbreak (2023) for @spnaubingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Before you can leave the bedroom, Dean pulls you in again and kisses you. He knows exactly what to do to get you to stay, but you promised your friend you’d go shopping with her. You wrap your arms around his neck and allow yourself to get lost in the kiss for exactly five seconds before you pull away.

“I gotta go, Dean,” you giggle.

“Come on, stay. I’ll do that thing you like,” he smirks.

“No. It’s not fair to use sex to hold me here. I’ll only be gone a few hours at most. You’re so clingy,” you laugh and push him off you. “You’ll survive for a few hours. I promise.”

“Okay, fine, but you’re not leaving my bedroom when you get back.”

“Deal,” you chuckle. “If I’m not back by seven, you have my permission to come get me.”

You kiss Dean quickly before leaving the bedroom. Dean won’t let you take his precious car so you opt to take one of the other older ones in the bunker’s garage. They’re all vintage classics that Savy fell in love with when she first saw them. She’ll appreciate you taking the 1955 Ford Thunderbird. Savvy is only in town for a few days on business so you only have a few days to hang with her before she goes back home on the East Coast.

“How are you and Jerry doing?” you ask when you pick her up.

Normally, the drive to the mall is only twenty minutes if you take the main roads and the highway. The weather is nice so you opt to take the back roads which will add another thirty minutes to the ride. Neither of you mind.

“We’re trying for another baby, so that’s exciting.” She already has four kids so you’re surprised she wants to bring another one into the world. “What about you? Any kids for you and Dean?”

“Savy, we’ve only been dating for six months.”

“So? You’re not getting any younger.”

“I don’t want kids, and I don’t think Dean will have an issue with me not wanting kids.” Kids don’t fit into the hunting life. “Plus, we’re taking things at a nice pace. He just asked me to move into the Bunker last week.”

“That must be easier for hunting.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Are you happy, Y/N?”

“Very. Are you happy?”

“I am,” she smiles.

“Good.”

You turn the music up and let the wind blow through your hair as you drive down the desolate road. You turn the corner and see a gray car parked on the side of the road about one hundred yards away. There is a man standing by the car with his hands on his head like he’s stressed about his car situation. You slow down and turn the music off when you approach the man.

“Car trouble?”

“Yeah. My tire is flat, my phone is dead, and I don’t know how to change a tire. I know what you’re thinking. A man doesn’t know how to change a tire? I was never a car man, and no one ever taught me,” he chuckles nervously.

“Do you have a spare?”

“Yeah, in the back.”

“I know how to change a tire. I can help you.”

“You’re a lifesaver. Thank you.”

You pull up in front of the car, and Savy looks at you with concern.

“Are you sure you should be doing this?”

“I’m just changing a tire. It’s fine. Ten minutes tops.” You get out of the car. “Stay here.”

“Thank you for stopping. I would have had to walk home,” the man chuckles. “I’m Peter.”

“Y/N. That’s Savy, and it’s no problem. I’d want someone to stop for me.”

You take the spare from the back and get started on taking the current tire off the car. You have just undone the lugnuts from the rim when your phone rings from your car.

“Dean is calling you.”

“Answer it. Tell him I’ll only be a minute.”

Savy grabs your phone and answers his call.

“Y/N’s phone. How may I help you?”

“Where is Y/N?”

“She’s busy right now. Can I take a message?”

“Just tell her to call me when she can,” Dean says and hangs up. Dean puts his phone down and looks at his brother who is looking at his iPad. “So, you thinking ghost possession?”

“Well, the witnesses claim to see black goo coming out of the victims’ ears before they killed themselves.”

“Yeah, ghost possession. We’ll leave in an hour. We’ll pick up Y/N on the way.” Forty-five minutes later, Dean enters the man cave to grab something when he sees you sitting on the couch staring at the TV that’s turned to the news. “I thought you’d be gone for a few hours. When did you get in?”

“A few minutes ago.”

“Oh, well, Sam found a case a few states away. He’s thinking ghost possession. You in?” You don’t answer and continue to look at the TV. “Are you okay?”

“Look what’s on the news.”

Dean walks closer to you and pays attention to the news reporter.

“While on a car chase, authorities discovered a 2003 gray Honda Civic abandoned on the side of the road. When authorities looked closer, there were signs of a struggle. We’re not clear as to what may have taken place, but they found two women’s purses on the ground. It is presumed that two women are missing, but their identities remain a mystery as of right now. Back to you, Sam.”

The news coverage changes to another news reporter who is already on the scene.

“Yes, Jill, what happened here is a tragedy. Local authorities are doing everything they can to locate the two women, hopefully alive.” Shouts from the officers can be heard, and Sam looks behind him to see what is going on. “This just in, I think they found a body.” Sam turns back to the camera. “I am unsure if they are able to identify the body. When we have more information, you’ll be the first to know. Back to you, Jill.”

“Wow, that’s so sad,” Dean says.

You look at Dean with unshed tears in your eyes.

“I’m at the bottom of Waconda Lake.”

“What?”

“Who are you talking to?” Sam asks when he pops his head in. Suddenly, you mist away, and realization dawns on Dean’s face. His knees buckle and he has to sit down before he crumbles to the ground. “Dude, you okay?”

“I think Y/N’s dead.”

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[ghostssweetgirl]

hello luv how are you doing? I’ll let you know u’r curring my depression. Could you please write an angsty pov with simon riley where he finds a fem reader on the old russian base on his mission??? so he sees her russian uniform and aimes his weapon on her but hesitates once he sees she’s unarmed combat medic?? and she kinda hides there in the from her comrades cuz they claimed her a traitor for saving an “enemy” soldier’s life?

if that’s too much and definitely not what you wanna write it’s totally okay. sorry. and thank u again hope u have a good day!!

omg hi anon! i'm doing good, but i hope you are doing even better! <3 yeah, i can do that for you :) hope this is okay for you!

cw: angst(ish), cursing, idk if i missed any let me know

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Combat Medic Reader

Simon was currently securing some intel from an enemy base, exploring what he thought was empty, abandoned. Just before he was about to leave and call it clear, he felt the need to check the only quarters with a closed door.

As he walked in, he instantly raised his gun. He didn't get a good look at first, just noticing her Russian uniform, but his finger let off the trigger when he saw her - froze, hands up, unarmed.

She was clearly beat up, bruises scattered amongst her arms, a neat gash on the side of her head. Messy, matted hair. Could tell you were exhausted.

"I'm sorry! Please! Please don't kill me," you begged.

"What are you doin'... here?" Ghost asked.

You swallowed as you tried to find your words, unsure if he'd believe you.

"Come on, spit it out."

"I am hiding here... from my comrades..." you started. "They call me a traitor."

"Traitor? Why?"

"I saved an enemy's life... They were unarmed, in so much pain," you sniffed, lips quivering as you cried. "They said... they said-"

"Shh, quiet down, now," he rasped. He didn't really know what to think. On one hand, he thought it was brave, heroic of you. It's your job. On the other, he didn't want to risk getting involved with a possible dangerous situation.

"Are they lookin' for you?"

"Yes... I know I need to get out of here but," you shrugged. "I don't know... They could kill me."

"None of that, now," he whispered. "Let's get you out of here first. I'll get you some place safe."

--

He led you back to a safe area, and helped you get into the passenger side of the truck. He hopped in the passenger seat, quietly sitting there as he took out his phone, sending a few texts.

"Suppose you could come with me," he spoke. "But, you can't wear... that. And don't go snoopin' around... or do anythin' to get yourself killed."

You nodded your head understandingly. "Yes, sir. Thank you... thank you."

He got out a few spare pairs of cargo pants and some shirts, tossing them down in the middle seat. "I'll stop somewhere soon. Let you change and... get yourself cleaned up."

--

You were beyond thankful he was helping you. Maybe this was your chance to start over, fully get away from your old comrades, from the military.

You feel cleaner than before, able to make yourself decent at a truck stop and get into a... clean enough pair of clothes.

--

Just as you expected, coming onto this new base, you were questioned by everybody. They had to make sure you weren't putting up an act, but they soon halfway trusted your sincereness.

You were shown to a spare room, and instantly plopped into the bed. Needing the rest as you now felt somewhat safe. It was very much awkward, so you didn't want to leave your room, but you were so hungry you had no choice.

It was late at night at this point, a little bit past 1200. Figuring everyone was asleep, you walked into the shared kitchen to find some grub only to be startled by the large presence before you, the man who saved you, a little bit dressed down than how you met him before.

"Hungry?" he asked. "Food in the fridge."

"Thank you..." you spoke quietly. "Hey... what's your name?"

He just looked at you before he answered. "Ghost."

"Thank you, Ghost..." you weakly smiled. "For saving me."

He hummed as he nodded.

"You didn't have to-"

"I know."

"I-I'm Y/N. Nice to... meet you," you chirped as you opened the fridge, picking up a container of leftovers that seemed decent enough to eat.

"Yeah. Well, have a good night," he walked away from you, not looking back as you watched his tall figure disappear into the darkness of the hallway.

--

A/N - I liked this idea a lot, I just hope I wrote it okay lol.

[majorproblems77]

Hi friend :D Time to get Questioned

13, 24, and 36 for the ask game! <3 If ur answering ofc

Hello friend! Can I call you Savi or would you prefer Matteo?

I am answering! Lets do this :D

13. Do you listen to music while you write? If yes, what have you been listening to recently?

I do! At the moment I've been listening to a mix of TheFatRat and Alen Walker to write my stories, but I often use various videogame soundtracks.

24. How do you choose whose POV to write in?

This one is difficult because I hop around POV a lot. It's a part of my writing style but it's mainly who the main point of interaction is.

36. What Fic are you proudest of?

Unravelling, definitely unravelling. I love it so much I'm so proud of how it's panning out. I could be excited about it all day.

But, honorary mention of Five days, Five months, five minutes, five years. Im really proud of how that one was received, its definitely a great story.

Thank you for the ask!

[wonik1ss]

0.15 the wicked witch is dead !! + written — SURFS UP ! 🏄‍♀️

It had been an hour or two since the party started and you already had to go to the basement to get some more drinks. Just as you got a large pack of cola’s you pulled your phone out of your pocket to answer a text.

J had just gotten to the party so you told her you were getting soda’s from the basement and for her to just wait in your living room. But it had been sometime since she’s seen you so she just ignored you and ran to your basement.

As you tried you best to not topple over with the heavy cans of soda’s in your hands, you felt someone’s hands your own. You looked up to see J taking the soda’s off of you and winking at you. Your eyes grew wide as she giggled and you both excited the basement.

J placed the soda’s on your kitchen counter as she turned to you and smiled.

“ Seems like the party going well! “. J said as your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to hear what she said, as she got closer to you and whispered in your ear.

“ Party’s going well isn’t it “

“ Ya! But I don’t know where half my friends are! “. You giggled as J did too.

“ J COME JOIN US! “. Sieun yelled grabbing the younger girls hand dragging her to the dance floor. You chuckled as you felt someone towering over you.

“ Hi! “. You looked up to see what you thought was the tallest person ever. The girl giggled as you stared up at her.

“ I’m Sullyoon you are? “

“ Y/n! I’m one of the people who are throwing this party “

“ Cool! I don’t really like party’s but this one’s pretty- “

“ What’s going on over here? “. J said as her hand smacked around your waist you looked up puzzled.

“ Oh I was just talking to Sullyoon! “. You yelled to J as she nodded and slightly glared at the taller girl.

“ I think I’ll get going now! Need to make sure my friends are ok! “. You nodded as Sullyoon left, and immediately turned around to J.

“ Why’d you run to me like we are dating? “. You didn’t have any liquid courage but for some reason your were being really bold infront of J.

“ I know we’re not.. I just wanted to talk to you.. I’m the bathroom! “. You tilted your head at the girl as she dragged you to your beach houses down stairs basement.

While on the other side of the party Hanni was trying to rizz up Aran.

“ Have you ever been to a beach party? “.

Hanni asked one arm draped around Arabs shoulder the other on the girls knee.

“ No! They’re not really my thing! “. Hanni nodded as she got closer to Arab’s ear.

“ Ya while I do like party’s I rather be watching a movie at home “. Yunjin who happened to be close by rolled her eyes. Hanni was one of the biggest extroverts she knew, always partying or doing something with a big group of people.

“ Really? “

“ Ya! … I actually wanted to know if you wanted to watch a movie at my house tomorrow.. “. Hanni stared at the flower as Aran smiled and finger under her chin and tilted her head up.

“ I would love to.. “. Hanni turned away face as pink as her hair a few days ago, as the girl giggled. What a turn of events.

-

“ So what did you want to tell me in this bathroom? “. J looked up confused before her face finally relaxed.

“ I.. I just wanted to know.. why you haven’t been coming to our swimming lessons.. “. You walked up to girl as her eyes grew wide.

“ Oh.. another one of my cousins just came back so I was just hanging out with him im so sorry J! “. J started to smile as her hands went to cup your face.

“ You know your very cute when your worried.. “. You blushed as J giggled. She could feel the heat coming of your face as she got closer to you. You were trying your absolute best to not stare at her lips, when you saw her eyes drift down to yours. Before you heard yelling and dashing.

J took her hands off your face as you cracked open the bathroom door.

You were busted…

-

“ WHAT WERE YOU THINKING! WE WERENT EVEN GONE FOR 3 HOURS AND YOU ALREADY HAD A PARTY SAVY! “. You watched as your mom yelled at your sister as you just keep your head down in shame.

“ And you! You the responsible one why did you let- “

“ I only had this party because.. I’m not going to or throwing any more! After this summer I’m buckling down and actually studying! That’s why Karina’s always over! She been helping get prepared for next year.. “. Your parents started at Savy in shock as you did too. You new your sister had grown but not this much.

Last year your sister was on the brink of being kicked out of her college because all she was doing was partying instead of studying.

“ Plus it was going to end at 12 and I was going to clean up the after math.. “. Your parents nodded as you smiled at your sister and she smiled back.

“ As sweet as this is your both still grounded until Monday.. “. You sighed as you and your sister went upstairs to your rooms.

“ Hay Savy.. are you actually going to try this year? “. You sister looked back at you as she opened her bedroom door.

“ Yes.. you got to lean on someone of something goes wrong and partying all year won’t make me that person.. “. You smiled as you sister went into her room and you into yours.

So much happened tonight.. but all you could think about was that almost kiss between you and J..

What if she just saw a bug on your face? Or maybe a hair? Or maybe she was just actually going to.. kiss you..

masterlist | next

summary : it was your 1st trip to the sunny beaches of cali. you had never been interested in anything else but surfing.. well that was until you saw the new teen surfing instructor j. she was everything you wanted and more. But with that came a really really REALLY dense girl who would probably never see your feelings.. which is what you thought for now.

[hyperionshipping]

1-5!!! (kittyandco)

AH UM. That last question x.x;;;; Kitty... I will be answering forrrr Lee!! Lee needs more love

1) what does your f/o’s youtube recommendations look like?

I think it's lots of ranch/rodeo stuff. Or horse care. Lee doesn't often use YouTube. I think specifically he likes Post 10's videos. It's one of the few channels he's subscribed too. (He needed to ask how too)

2) if your f/o has any social media accounts, what’s their icon?

Again, Lee is... he's not old school but he's NOY tech savy. Anything public has his face. Or a photo of something else he found pretty. If he took it, it's slightly blurry usually

3) what’s in your f/o’s bookcase/e-reader/etc.? does your f/o even like to read?

Ummmm!! God I don't know actually? He's totally got a favorite book. I just don't know what...

4) what’s in your f/o’s camera roll?

LOTSA photos of me, and me and him! Lee loves taking photos of me because I'm his favorite human. He thinks I'm the handsomest thing around so of course he takes a bunch. He also takes photos of nature, shaky photos of dogs for me, things like that!

5) how quickly was your f/o ready to call you their s/o or spouse?

UM. WELL. OKAY. SOOO. Uh. >.> <.<

Lepos was. Very very ready to a. call me his boyfriend but also b. call me his husband. I. Think sometimes he refers to me as that without hearing himself because I'm that speical to him! Nothing's happened yet but... maybe one day

@kittyandco  

[queen-scribbles]

Pick 2 OC questions for each of the A6 girls

Savi

7. What song reminds you of this oc? Does this match up with the type of music your oc likes to listen to?

Fly (Maddie & Tae) which isn't exactly the type of music she likes. She likes stuff like Kelly Clarkson or Christina Perri more than country, but she'd probably listen to Maddie & Tae without complaining.

11. Does your oc have any interests/hobbies that they hide from everyone? Why do they hide these interests?

Not so much hiding as just shy about her embroidery and the sketching she does to plan out designs. Most people never cared about it when she was a princess, it doesn’t have any practical value so she feels like it would be a silly thing to bring up on the Andromeda Six, and she doesn’t think she’s all that good at the sketching. (June and Bash would both roll their eyes and disagree strenuously if she confessed that while showing them her sketches)  But the first time she fixes a rip in her uniform with a spray of embroidered flowers, Aya and Bash are immediately “THAT’S SO COOL :D” and she starts reevaluating her views of that talent.

Rue

1. What’s your oc’s most irrational fear? Is there a specific reason this fear came about?

Slugs. She stepped on one barefoot once and completely squished it and the sensation of cold and slimy on her foot took FOREVER to go away(this may or may not be inspired by personal experience >.<) so she's always freaked out at the thought of it happening again bc it was really gross. Vexx teases her about it a LOT during his time as her guard.

20. What’s a superpower or magical ability that this oc would hate having?

Invisibility. She already feels like no one (except Vexx and Nerissa) sees her, why would she ever want to make that literal?

Faith

16. What’s your oc’s nighttime routine like?

Strip down to tank top and undies for sleeping, brush teeth etc, read/otherwise mess around on her holopad for about an hour, then sprawl on her stomach and be dead to the world(50/50 shot she's snoring juuuust a little) in five minutes tops.

25. How does your oc handle sadness?

Talks it out, usually to plants, but a wall will do. Back at the palace she would have basically lived in her greenhouse and talked/cried it out to her orchids for a couple days(Who'd miss her?). On the Andromeda Six, she borrows Ryona's flowers since she hasn't had time to collect many of her own. If it's really bad she'll just curl up and cry her eyes out.

Aurah

4. Is your oc good at keeping secrets?

Oh, yes, very good. She says her lips are sealed, no one will hear so much as a syllable of it from her.

10. Who’s the first person your oc goes to to talk about something that made them happy? Sad? Angry?

At the palace, the answer to all of those was Nerissa(for a while Sorenn got her angry venting, but they drifted apart after he joined the Crown Guard) with Vexx in a close second, on the Andromeda Six it's Ryona for happy and angry and Calderon(romance) gets the sad bc she doesn't feel like she has to be strong around him. :))))

OC Ask Game

[honey-milk-depresso]

Frickin’ Kahoot (TWST; Random)

Riddle Rosehearts

He’s super smart and probably knows all the answers-

The only reason why he rage quits is because his phone connection

S U C K S

“OH MY GREAT SEVENS I PRESSED THE RED BUTTON SO MANY TIMES IT WOULDN’T RESPOND, NOW I DROPPED TO 6TH PLACE BECAUSE OF THIS STUPID WIFI-”

d a m n-

He would also be the one of those usually good kids to not give a shit anymore about keeping up an appearance-

He just go fcking feral child rage quit

He just really competitive alright?

He also puts a normal name when playing Kahoot.

Like

Just “Riddle”

Or like his full name “Riddle Rosehearts”

Sometimes when he feels like it he puts “Riddle Rose<3″

That’s the most amount of informality you’ll get-

And he usually comes in 4th and 5th place because of his stupid wifi-

Trey Clover

Lmao

He loves it

Not too much

But it makes him relieve and scared at the same time when the professor says it’s Kahoot time-

Like-

He’s veryyy normal

Though he can be so done when the class is in the midst of pure chaos-

Gets a decent amount right and wrong-

Super chill

Unlike Heartslabyul Dorm leader-

He just lay back-

Relax.

But if he feels a bit of competitive spirit,

He’ll manage to get 6th to 8th instead of the usual 10th to 15th place-

He names himself “Trey”, “trey”, “4leafclover”, “bakes a win”, “trey clover”, “lucky clover” stuff like that.

He doesn’t rage quit-

He super chill so-

yeah.

Cater Diamond

Honestly,

he thinks it’s the perfect time to take a picture

correction PICTURES

Listen

People playing Kahoot is like a warzone

But to people who don’t really care-

It’s the perfect time to find memes

It’s like a meme mind field for Cater

everywhere

Riddle rage quit-

perfect cut scream

Trey looking so done

Make a caption saying “Look at the excitement on his face” while zooming in on his face with a perfect cut scream from someone-

He honestly doesn’t really care about the Kahoot game or more rather the meme moments he can capture and upload onto magicam-

Seriously dude-

But he names himself like with a shit ton of emojis. All lower case.

“cater”, “the diamond”, “UwU” 

Look it’s for the aesthetics-

Azul Ashengrotto

The perfect time to crush his classmates’ souls

Thanks to Idia, he got the best wifi amongst all the other Year 2s,

and he’s super smart

So he’ll get 1st.

Only first.

Can’t afford to get 2nd place.

If he didn’t he’ll remain calm in the class,

but back in his room he goes into a rage quit.

I think he’d be the type to get the first question wrong on purpose, just so they’ll answer all the questions right,

immediately jumping to 1st place to crush whoever got 1st place initially and presumes to maintain his place.

Another one who types in his normal, generic name.

“Azul”, “Azul Ashengrotto”

he doesn’t really do much

but imagine that monopoly meme just that phones are everywhere and he raises his own with that screen where you get first place in kahoot when the game ends?

That’s him.

Jade Leech

Plays it like a normal person-

Normal nickname with a mushroom emoji

Gets a decent 2nd - 4th place-

Next-

Floyd Leech

Purposely brought a laptop

Why?

To hack into the Kahoot

He type in a crack shit nickname and spam like 20000000000000000 of it into the Kahoot.

He’d also be the type to laugh at someone’s suffering when they dropped places.

He also hacks into some people’s Kahoot especially Riddle’s to mess up their answers-

As I said, he’ll give himself shitty, totally crackhead energy nicknames like idk-

“I heard you”, “My mix tape”, “loli” or some shit

List could go on-

Leona Kingscholar

Would go into the Kahoot,

and never play it cuz he feels it’s the perfect time to take a nap-

sleeps throughout the entire Kahoot-

so he’ll always get last place cuz he didn’t do shit-

Lilia Vanrouge

He is tech savy grandpa, alright?

And he’s the type to pick the weirdest most memeiest nicknames in exsistence-

“Call me Duty”, “Grandpa 2.0″, “Master Chef”, “Ulikelolis”, “Sexy Bread”, “Baby Bread”-

Ya name it-

he doesn’t really care what place he’s in

But he’ll sometimes look at the memes Cater posted-

Lmao-

Malleus Draconia

The true boomer

Seriously has no idea how Kahoot works-

Malleus bby-

He’s the true grandpa brain here when it comes to Kahoot-

Like bruh-

“Lilia, what’s those numbers?”

“To type in the PIN code,”

“Pin code??”

Writes the numbers down on a sticky notepad on his phone-

“I don’t have a pin. Maybe that’s why it’s not working??”

“Malleus, no-”

He so confuse-

His nicknames are like “Tsunotaro”, “Malleus”, “Gargoyles”

When he made it passed the PIN code that is-

Always asks Lilia or Silver for help.

[savi-of-ithaca]

Ok to participate in the dbd ask game, I want to ask u something, if you existed in the universe, would you hang around as a ghost? And what would you do?

But may I also add, wtf do u think the cause of death would be??

hmmm. i would, yeah, for a while at least. i'm still young and i'd be leaving a lot behind if i left for the afterlife immediately, yeah?

running from death seems fucking terrifying but i think i could manage if i found someone that could see me that i could stick with? ON THAT NOTE i'd 100% try to find the dead boy detective agency office there is no other choice about it

i'd definitely visit my friends a lot too, even if i couldn't interact with them.. @lokis-bitter-ghost i'd come find you before we left to find the dbda for sure

i think i'd travel a bit too, see places i want to see (like the place where different scenes from shows and movies were filmed, i love them too much)

cause of death...(AJSGSHSG my keyboard just suggested it would be "FRENCH" in all caps) would probably be some health issue because i'm very bad at taking care of myself sometimes tbh

[anitmb]

Hi Ani, I’m not the anon who just asked about your new merchant mod, so please don’t come down on them. If you make a mod, you should support it, not tell ppl to tune files themselves. Most ppl use mods because they wouldn’t know how to make their own, or know what file to tune, or how! Mods shouldn’t be an exclusive club for ppl who are tech savy, should they? They gave you feedback about your mod not working properly, your response was arrogant.

My first truely negative ask <3

After 13 years of modding it was about to happen at some time ^_^

I really hope the original anon who asked the question didn't take my answer as an arrogant one because that was not my intent. Of course I support my mods and want to know about bugs and issues and I'm already collecting info on some issues the mod has from other users.

The anon also asked for an option to lower customer autonomy and editing the ITUN file is the answer to that.

I do not assume everybody knows how to mud but I also don't believe in going the EA route and assuming players are incapable of doing anything by them selves. Anybody who plays TS3 and is trying to keep it alive and running 13 years after it has been released and who is using mods has probably at least stumbled on the package editor and xml tuning, which the ITUN basically is.

Could I have given more detailed instructions on what to edit in the ITUN file? Sure. Now that I re-read my answer I should have actually done that. But pointing a player to the correct file and saying that by editing this you can achieve what you asked for is no too much to ask :)

[thebeautyoffanfics]

When the ask box has been dead-

SAVI WHERE R U?!!!!

WAWAh honestly my fault <//3 savvi has asks to answer, but star's,,, procrastinating ;;

[popculturebuffet]

Ducktales Della Arc Reviews: The Great Dime Chase!

Welcome back all you happy people, to my look at the series first arc! I covered the pilot last week and this week i’m going full speed ahead with two more review for this arc, one more for the Lena arc all leading up to BOTH finsihing up next week for DUCK WEEK, my huge celebration of the final episode of Ducktales 2017. So with all that in mind when we last left off the kids moved in, webby gained friends, Donald and Scrooge made the first steps to patching up.. and Dewey found out his mom was also invovled with their adventures setting this arc off. 

This is also where the airing order reshuffling started as this episode was pushed up by two replacing impossible summit as the third episode... and where said order reshuffling for both this arc and the Lena arc really bit Disney in the ass by giving fans the wrong idea about the series pacing. See the original idea was to have a few episodes as a buffer, since this arc itself is only about 5 episodes long, so the pacing would be more spread out and fans while likely getting impatient for the della mystery to be resolved, would expect it to take about that long after a while. The same was clearly planned for the Lena arc. 

The problem is Disney didn’t give one shit about proper airing order, story pacing or any of that at the time despite their most popular show at said time having the same pacing structure and having been aired in the right order. So as a result and as most of you already know, season 1′s structure was a mess: The globetrotting adventure episodes were off ballance with ones set in Duckburg itself, Scrooge sometimes felt like a supporitng character in the first half due to his two focus episodes being crunched to the back for holidays... it was bad. And it was worst here as by having both the Della and Lena arcs progress pretty quickly in the first 6.. it was thus jarring and grating that there was zero progress for either in the rest of the first half, and they had to move the spear of selene up a few episodes when they came back just to make up for it.. which still messed with pacing as that arc wouldn’t be picked up until the final three episodes solving nothing. This made fans blame the creators for sloppy pacing and for taking too long to get to the Della thing when they’d done nothing wrong and HAD staggered it out. It wasn’t till Frank later revealed the order was a bit bungled we got the message and until a few months into the series being on Disney Plus we got a proper order for the series. And again, the arc has pacing issues we’ll get to without this.. but they were made so much work by Disney blatantly disrespecting and ingoring their creative team. 

I will give credit where it’s due though: Disney learned from it. While Season 2 had a few episodes shuffled around, this time it was due to trying out that binge airing strategy they were doing to get shows on Disney Plus faster, airing DuckBombs (Woo-Ooo!) frequently, so they wanted the airing to flow properly with that without screwing up the flow fo the season more than they absolutely had to. They were being careful and delberate this time not to make the same mistake and with season 3, they simply havent’ shuffled the airing order at all> The only two episodes aired out of order were holiday episodes purposefully made to air at the right time and detached from the season as a whole. This stretches to other shows too: Amphibia is two seasons in and Owl House got through it’s whole season with at worst minimal changes to the airing lineup and the arcs all being properly spaced and aired as intended. I give Disney a lot of shit, rightfully so, but I will give them all the credit when they learn from their mistakes and they REALLY did here, learning to trust their creators to know when to actually make an episode and simply having them set aside holiday episodes if they want one. 

Otherwise not a lot of lead in for this one: It introduces a bunch of the supporting cast, reintroduces the board in full, and in general is a pretty good episode. Find out why under the cut. 

We open with the introduction of the shows go to Show Within a Show Ottoman Empire. And what I’d forgotten was Louie wasn’t always into it but there’s a subtle arc to it: he gets into it, slowly obesses over it, by the end of the season he’s got his brothers into it, it’s not a huge thing but it’s a little detail I can’t help but enjoy a hell of a lot.  But him not liking it is part of a larger problem Scrooge has picked up on: Louie’s laziness has reached godlike new levels: he’s opened about 7 cans of PEP! and only taken a sip from each, won’t change the channel because the remote, which is right next to him and would only take him hopping slightly to the left to get to it or incnching over a bit is “too far”. Scrooge finally blows up at the sight when Louie tosses his phone away for not being charged and assumes he can get another one because “We’re rich”. Scrooge corrects him “I”m rich!” and then drags him off by the hoodie with him to the office so he’ll learn the value of a hard day’s work. And really.. the scene is a good showcase for Scrooge: Louie is acting like the embodiment of all deadbeats and Scrooge is still VERY patient with the boy until it’s very clear he needs a wakeup call. Given Scrooge has a temper on the best of occasions it really shows he’s trying with the boys, and only really snapped when it was clear Louie NEEDED someone to snap at him and snap him out of his bullshit. 

Meanwhile Dewey sneaks into Webby’s room to read her secret file on the McDuck family only to LITERALLY be caught red handed as she put glitter on her outside.. because it looks pretty. And as a security measure. Given she lives with a trained spy who likely has riffled through her stuff at least once, or would at least solely try to check her files just to make sure their secure, and lives in a place that gets broken into or nearly blown up, both by Glomgold, on a regular basis, i’d expect no less. But she also points out the obvious once he explains he’s looking for information on his family: He could’ve just asked. As we saw back in Woo-ooo! like yours truly webby will gladly go on about things she’s obsessed about at the drop of a hat and has likely been dying for someone to share her vast conspiracy board with. As for why he didn’t do the obvious, keep in mind he doesn’t know Webby well this point, so he dosen’t know what questions he asked might set her off and also doesn’t know WHY his uncles don’t talk about her, so he’s being cautious and it’s a nice foreshadowing for his secret keeping throughout the arc.. and how it’s an inherently dumb and selfish idea that only slows down his investigation. 

So naturally given the sequel hook at the end of the pilot, he asks about Della. And after drawing the curtains and making sure Scrooge isn’t around to listen Webby asks what HE knows. Naturally given this is a whole story arc he only knows what she looks like from an old photo of her dunking donald’s head in his birthday cake, and Webby.. knows even less. No one talks about Della and the last time anyone did, a mailmain brought some junk mail with her name on it, Scrooge bought out the post office and they never saw that mail man again. Webby naturally thinks Scrooge murdered him... and while I don’t think he went THAT far, I pity that poor shcmoe and whatever ice floe he’s been banished to. And not a small villiage in the arctic mind you like an actual ice floe scrooge left him on with a lifetimes suply of beans.

 This also admittedly answers a question i’ve been griping about for some time that turns out had a logical answer: I thought he’d somehow wiped her out from public record and the internet and then magically put her back. I was wrong and simply hadn’t rewatched this episode and connected the dots. He likely didn’t do.. any of that, but the triplets likely never thought to internet search her with Donald because as far as they knew Donald was an average person, and thus their mom would be too and looking her up wouldn’t tell her anything about them. It still leaves the plot hole of how they knew about Scrooge and not the Della search, I have no answer for that one, but hey sometimes these things happen and it’s a good enough show I can ignore it. Point is they had no reason to research her before then and Donald likely went out of his way to hide anything about her when they visited places.  Likewise Scrooge was likely so miserable and consumed with his search, and once that was called off his failure, he likely pulled every archive and artifact for his own personal collection to pour over them in sadness and loss and simply put most of it back into the public once the boys helped him heal by the end of the season and the truth was out there. Likewise while the internet info was likely there after this episode too Dewey, as foolish as he can be, likely wasn’t stupid enough to look up his mom’s name on his uncle’s wifi. While Scrooge likely isn’t tech savy, given how paranoid he is and how much of a sore spot this is, it’s not a stretch to have him ask gyro to monitor his wifi for certain key words. So yeah i’ll admit when I was wrong and there was a logical explanation, if still with some holes, all along.

Anyways Webby has one place she hasnt’ been able to get into that might have the answers: Scrooge’s Personal Archives. And as it turns out, both parties are heading to the bin: Scrooge since, much like the comics, that’s where his office is, and Webby and Dewey for the same reason The bin being Scrooge’s buisness center, where his office is where he has meetings where a lot of his emoployees are is very accurate to the comics, as while the layout was never entirely consient apart from “Scrooge’s office is the only way in and out of the bin itself” and said office having a very consistent and iconic look that the series didn’t change. But as we’ll see they added two extra parts to it that in the comics scrooge would Balk at the expense of but this scrooge, whiel still probably not happy about the extra money, knows are vitally necessary. 

Speaking of which the plot splits in two pretty cleanly once we actually get to the bin: Scrooge has no real issue with the kids going to the archives and no glimmer of their real intention, so the plots don't’ meet up again outside of when Louie’s literally crashes into Dewey and Webby’s for a second. There’s some thematic connections, cutaways and an intercut montage, but nothing outside of that. So as is tradition for me i’m covering them seperatly and since it’s both the reason why i’m covering this episode and our B-Plot, let’s start with the archives Webby and Dewey in The Mad Archivist of Scrooge McDuck!

Webby and Dewey head to the archive where we meet Quackfaster. In the comics she’s scrooges long suffering secretary, emphasis on suffering. He barely pays her, takes expenses out of her paycheck and she generally seems once minute away from a nervous breakdown at any given time. What i’m saying is the character and the “gag” have not aged well in any way shape or form so instead here she was revamped. Frank and Matt leaned on Scrooge’s love for adventure more than his greed at first, and had his thrill-seeking be his vice more. It does make sense as greed isn’t nearly as good as it was to people in the 40′s and especially the 80′s, but they eventually clearly realized they made it a bit too subtle, as it’s still an iconic part of the character and played it up a bit more in seasons 2 and 3, to the point two of his worst moments in backstory, both revealed in season 3, come from his greed. They found a nice ballance and I do think having his adventuring also be a vice was a nice change of  pace.  As such, they came up with the idea that he’d hire people who like him are exceptionally talented but also a bit reckless and unhinged. The kind of people most employers would unfairly shut the door on but Scrooge sees their true talent and worth and treats them with the respect they deserve. People who in most other works would be super villains, but here are kept from that by being given honest jobs for their talents and a boss who has no intention of ripping them off or undermining them. IT’s a great concept and I wish we’d saw more than two people hired with that in mind, but the two we got are great.

So with all this Quackfaster was reinvented with this idea in mind to someone entirely different but infinitely more entertaining: She’s now a ham of the highest order, not literally, and slightly unballanced. She also refuses to help Dewey until he completes some challenges for her, sorting out a code in the dewey decimel system

And in sorting the books to get to know the archives. Webby is all for it naturally as this is a dream for her: she’s likely tried to access the place for years and couldn’t as a non-relative, something Scrooge hopefully relaxes in the future, so a giant pile of books about adventuring, Scrooge (including an apparently 7 volumes on his favorite smells one of which Webby gives a happy “I knew it” upon finding out it was fresh baked cookies), and places he’s been, including a sly nod to Plain Awful. This is a hallmark of the show making smaller nods to the past incarnations without going into them or doing those adventures again and while I was at first disappointed those tales already happened in some form, I now get they simply wanted to tell NEW ONES, and were a big as fan of the olds ones as most of you reading this and myself. Though between you and me I was never a big fan of the square eggs story. Good idea just a weird and not all that funny execution. 

Dewey however has the patience of a coked up ferret who also took some shrooms and being Dewey tries simply demanding she tell him. Naturally yelling at the weird hammy lady intrusted to guard the private library of someone whose a certified badass.. is not a smart or correct move and Quackfaster decides if they can’t respect the archives they’ll become PART OF THE ARCHIVES and pulls out a crescent shaped sword to apparently murder them. 

So a chase ensues with the two trying to simply throw books at her, escape her and only narrowly doing so for a minute when Louie pops up being chased by a giant robot made by a smaller robot using a giant change machine. I love this show. 

Eventually their backed into a corner while Dewey defiantly demands info on his mom. And his impatience and anger is understandable: this is the first time in his ten or so year old life he’s had ANY chance of learning anything on her.. and he’s having to do various fetch quests. While he could use some tact, may not get him stabbed so much, his viewpoint is understandable. 

Thankfully it turns out Quackfaster was just doing a Mr.Miaygi and secretly testing them, having chased them to the book Dewey wanted, and said code she had them find earlier is the login for the vault. Granted it also has them put away some books (”How much of this is us just doing your job for you?” “About fiffttty perceeennnt”), but she works for scrooge. While he thankfully pays her a living wage here he still can’t be paying her much. Still they find their way to a secret vault and Dewey gets stabbed a bit to verify he is a mcduck.. and let into Scrooge’s secret room, full of treasures Della likely gathered. As I said, he DID put them aside somewhere, and likely just wanted them to cry over and donald didn’t fight it since the last thing he wanted was the boys learning their legacy. D

The telling part here though, despite accusations later.. is that Dewey’s first instinct upon finding this is  to tell his brothers.  Keep in mind Dewey’s all consuming need for attention and validiation, all of which he could possibly get and only have to share with Webby. He has every selfish reason for not telling them.. but he wants to. He knows they deserve to learn to. The only wrinkle is webby finding a note saying “Scrooge i’m taking the spear of selene, i’m sorry”. He decides to hide it for their sake right then and there. But while part of this as we’ll get into later in the week is him simply being afraid of what he’ll find personally.. it’s fair to NOT want to tell them. To try and protect them from the horrible truth whatever it may be. He has no way of knowing the betryal was nonexistant here and neither did we. It’s not the right course of action, awful truth or no they deserved to know too and both would say as much later, she’s their mom: good person or bad they know.. but like his uncles he’s not hiding this out of malice but because the truth might genuinely hurt them.. and as we’ll learn.. it will.. oh boy will it ever. But more on that next week and more on the arc itself later this week. What about the rest of the episode?

Louie in The Great Dime Chase! and Scrooge in The Boardroom Full of Heartless Assholes!

Winding back a few hours, Scrooge drags Louie up to his office, where the boy is genuinely impressed.. before naturally trying to take a swim in the money while Scrooge tries to tell him about his number one dime. Scrooge stops him before head injury occurs explaining that yes, even the money thing requires proper training: Louie would’ve just cracked his skull open and this would’ve either gotten really dark really fast or turned into a horrifying and hilarious child death version of weekend at bernies. It’s what Louie would’ve wanted. Scrooge can do it because he’s built up the muscle and resistance over time, strong enough and skilled enough to travel through the solid metal and dive into it. It’s a nice nod to life and times: While Scrooge didn’t necesarily train to swim in money, he bathed in it at first and when he needed to during an adventure discovered he could swim through it going from one barrel of his cash to another. So tweaking that slightly to an earned skill, and one Louie will have leanred by the end of the season, was a billiant move..and a way of silencing all those head injury jokes. 

But their soon interrupted by the board, who Scrooge dosen’t recall having a meeting with and likely pull this kind of shit all the time when they can get Scrooge. It makes even more sense after the Della reveal, as he likely has to be forced into dealing with the men who, while as far as he knew were trying to help him, still pulled him away from Della.. and in one case, had a shit eating grin about it. Seriously Bradford you smirked evilly about your nemesis not being able to rescue his daughter how do you NOT get that your the bad guy?

The meeting ends up being boring with Louie asleep and Scrooge almost there, as let’s face it most board meetings probably are, until Gyro barges in! It’s our first apperance of 2017 Gyro and a lot of people were upset by how much more of an ass he was. Me, while I like the kind and gentle original, like the more mad sciency version here and feel Jim Rash did a good job with it, and  I only really hate it when he’s around Fenton, and the show eventually addressed how fucked up that was in Season 3 after downplaying it in Season 2 by having them barely interact and have Gyro genuienly show some pride. Otherwise I like my insane prideful version even if I get why some don’t like it as it is nothing like the comics, but as we see with Donald not being a lot like the comics version isn’t a bad thing. 

IT’s one hell of a character establishing moment, as he barges in, is rude to everyone and has to read cue cards to properly intro his latest invention Little Bulb, Gyro’s most iconic invention whose made here to help people not do work. The Board is skeptical though as most of Gyro’s inventions have turned evil, a nice nod to the fact that most of Gyro’s robots in the original series, who are in fact on a list of previous inventions.. turned evil and tried to kill people. IT also shows his warmer side as he insists they aren’t evil just misunderstood, or at least half were anyway, and tries to cover for Little Bulb shaking his fist at them and doing a throat slitting gesture... which while Bradford plays dumb about what that means.. he’s worked in organized Villainy for at least 55 years. He knows what that gesture means. It’s Heron’s favorite. And even if he didn’t he’s also worked with Scrooge for around 30. It’s also Scrooge’s favorite. So it’s rejected though Scrooge encourages Gyro who vows they’ll understand one day and they’ll all pay. Really should save that for outside. 

Scrooge vouches for the board to Louie who questions such a slam dunk, pointing out he trusts their judgment.. mostly because he dosen’t know they’ve been embezzling from him to fund an evil spy orginzation the whole time but still, he usually trusts them. He would’ve found a way to fire them if he didn’t on the Della thing. But sometimes they overstep and they undermine that statment by suggesting cuts to the Bin’s budget, starting with Magical defenses “Do you know how many curses I have on my head?”. And props to the creators as they apparnetly had the whole Bombie idea in mind this far back, and as Bradford later shows towards the end of next season when he lures Louie into cutting it, he KNOWS where that money goes. He just was trying to feign ignorance to get Scrooge killed if he could. Clever bastard. 

So Louie goes to get a drink, and naturally scrooge’s drink machine in his office not only charges but requires an extra ten cents. Louie assumes the dime in his office is an emergency Dime only to walk in on Scrooge giving the full story. As you all likely know, it’s his number one dime, with the origin taken straight from life and times: He was a poor shoe shine, and he worked hard to clean off a ditchdigger’s muddy boots, working himself to the bone.. only to get an American dime which inspired him both to work harder and smarter than anyone and to go to America to seek his fourtune. There’s some extra steps in the original material, and another bit that the show would also adapt later that we’ll get to next week, but point is it’s his symbol of all his hard work.. that Louie just sent into the vending machine.  So said great chase insures as Louie follows the dime, as it’s emptied from the vending machine.. by a gull janitor we only see this season. And he’s a really likeable guy I wish we’d learned more. He then faces his and Charles Xavier’s greatest enemy THE STAIRS. There’s a runner about Louie having to constnatly run up and down the massive amount of stairs the bin has as someone else takes the elevator and by the climax it’s been taken out entirely. It’s pretty great.  So Louie’s seemingly screwed and instead looks up how to pick a lock on YouTube.. no really. That’s what he does. Frank outright mentioned this in an interview, pointing out they wanted the kids to act like a kid would.. and props to him that’s what a kid would do. Hell that’s what I would do if I were locked out of a place and time was of the essence. Either that or look up a step by step instruction on google. He then runs into Gyro though, and gets the idea to use LIttle Bulb, convinces Gyro he has money and would like to invest and just needs to borrow the little guy and Gyro is happy to agree to it. 

Naturally though, Louie’s laziness and a volatile machine who only likes one people just like his daddy, do not mix and Louie leaves sorting the coins to it while he watches Ottoman Empire, actually getting really sucked into it. IN fairness he did start with the Glomgold episode. Little Bulb meanwhile shows just how awesome he is by turning himself into a giant coni sorting mech by rewiring and reconfiguring the coin sorter.. and naturally given who made hi going mad with power. So while he did get the dime out.. he’s not horrifyingly obessed with chasing it and the real great dime chase begins. 

Back at the meeting Scrooge continues to debate the Buzzards who now want to cut staff, both of whom Scrooge rightfully defends. While Gyro is a bit unhinged, his inventions have likely made the company millions and saved them billions, and while Quackfaster is the same as we just saw, there’s a method to her madness and her laziness. And given Quackfaster works two additional jobs to afford a nice retirement, it’s clear that while he pays them decently he’s likely still not paying them gobs. With the power of hindsight i’ts very clear Bradford just wants to try if he can to eliminate two sources of chaos and backup for Scrooge and when Scrooge sarcastically suggests just getting rid of the bin, Bradford goes with it with a shit eating grin, but it’s very clear by that and Scrooge’s frustration this is a non starter, and Bradford’s likely doing it just because he frankly knows it’ll piss Scrooge off. 

So Louie runs for it working harder than he has in his whole life, with Gyro eventually trying to talk little bulb down, to no avail.. though we do get a nice moment of it registering him as father. Awwww. So the chase naturally eventually leads to the bin and Louie stuck in it, slowly swimming across, until Gyro gets to LIl Bulb, and realizes he’s in the wrong time of wattage and has literally gone mad with power and puts him back in his tiny old body fixing the problem. Gyro also crashed in with the bulb mech earlier, and while it disproves Scrooge’s point he’s stable.. he simply rolls with it and points out his staff is dangerously insane, and would likely swear vengeance on the Board if they were fired. And while he dosen’t say this part of it directly given Scrooge treats BOTH Quackfaster and Gyro exceptionally well, he knows they’ll know EXACTLY whose idea it was.. probably even tell them. So the board agrees to keep things as is to not die horribly as supervillains or not they have limits. 

So the day is one, Louie finds the dime, replaces it and passes out with Scrooge none the wiser. it also turns out the Dime isn’t even the real deal, to Louie’s frustration. But Scrooge is proud he clearly worked hard, and gives him the fake dime as his own number one dime, a nice setup for their bond and a nice showing that Louie really has the potential to be as rich as his uncle one day, and it’s clear by this setup there was a lot of potential here for an arc.. which is why we got one. More on that some other time. Louie accidently spends it while Gyro ends realizing if he put himself int he robot it wouldn’t go mad with power.. and thus Project Blatherskite is born. And we all know where this is going. 

Final Thoughts: All in all a decent episode. It has great pacing, some excellent world building, and some really good gags. While the series would do better episodes as it went, for an early episode helping set things up including Louie’s charcter arc, Gyro, Gizmoduck and the board as proper characters, it’s still very good and one of the series early standouts. 

Next Time on Della: Donald is forced to confront his adventuring past when he runs into his old sorta friend THE INCREDIBLE STORKULES, Scrooge is forced into games of the gods by their resident Douchebag Zeus, and Dewey is forced to confront his own fear of whatever it is his mom did. Confront this review later this week. 

Next Time on This Blog: It’s Lena’s Dark Night of the Soul as she and Webby head into “The Other Bin of Scrooge McDuck!” 

If you liked this review share it, feel free to commission your own and feel free to join my patreon at patreon.com/popculturebuffet. Even a buck a month helps, and helps me reach my stretch goals, the current one being just 5 dollars away, and netting you reviews of the super Ducktales arc of Ducktales and a Darkwing Duck Review every month. See you at the next rainbow.

[satrangee-ray]

A, B, R, U, Y from the fanfic ask list please 🥰😘

Thank you so much for asking @adiehardfan. Here we go!

A: Out of the fanfics I have written, my favorite one is not from the OH fandom, but from the Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan fandom on AO3. Honestly, it's not even properly based on the movie, or the main ships, it's more like an original work with a link to SMZS. It's 21 chapter long, and still ongoing. Just in case you're wondering why it is so close to my heart, I'm attaching it's summary. Read it, you'll get your answer.

Next question!

B: The first fandom I both read in and wrote for is Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan.

R: I've read a lot of Agatha Christie and Shakespeare growing up. Though my writing style is obviously nothing similar to theirs', I have developed my love for literature from their works. Currently, I think my style is a bit similar to Savi Sharma, which is great because I admire her work. I'm also inspired by Dreamer, who's an excellent fanfic writer, and I hope she gets published soon!

U: I would LOVE to write Aurora Emery×MC from OH, and I probably will soon. I'm just tryna decide if I should use the same MC or create a different one.

Y: Well... I'm very difficult to please when it comes to my own writing, and NOTHING ever seems good enough. So when I genuinely like something I've written, I don't care if there's enough response, or if it becomes "popular". I know it's good. But me liking what I write rarely happens, so when no one responds I'm usually like duh 🙄 of course they wouldn't. You suck.

Was that too much of a bummer? I'm sorry sweethearts, I'm just being honest. But I'll try to be more cheerful next time. Good day <3.

[samssims]

If you get this, answer with 3 random facts about yourself and send it to the last 7 blogs in your notifications, anonymously or not! Let's get to know the person behind the blog! 💜

Hello! Thank you!! Some facts about Sam:

I have competed in NaNoWriMo for the last 5 years. This year is my 6th. I have completed the challenge every year I’ve done! So far I am on track to do it again :D

I actually work in the IRL Batuu that Journey to Batuu is based on. I am a Gatherer at Savi’s Workshop and help people make their lightsabers every day. 

I am working on two Simblr Advents this year! My own and then helping the Discord server I am in to run theirs! It’s an exciting month for me with lots of projects brewing. For my own advent, I have almost 2 pose packs per advent day. It’s sure to be a completely packed month of poses and I cannot wait to show you all!

Thank you for sending in this ask and getting to know a little bit more about me!