#/ but like. i said i would. i have done it. i figured before Everything

[lanf1an]

SEASONS lando norris x fewtrell sister - pt.9

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6 pt.7 pt.8

wordcount: 2926

The sunlight streaming through the blinds was sharp and unforgiving, waking you far earlier than you wanted. You shifted under the covers, the events of the night before flashing through your mind. Your stomach churned—not from the alcohol, but from the weight of what had happened.

You glanced over at Lando, still asleep beside you, his chest rising and falling steadily. He looked peaceful, his hair a mess against the pillow, and for a brief moment, you let yourself feel the warmth of it. But then guilt crept in, tightening around your chest. What the hell had you done? 

Slipping out of bed as quietly as you could, you grabbed some clothes and padded out into the kitchen. Coffee first, then… you’d figure out how to handle this.

“Morning,” Lando’s voice startled you, and you turned to see him leaning against the doorway, hair tousled, wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt. He looked way too good to be feeling even half the hangover you were feeling. 

“Oh, hey,” you said, trying to sound casual. “I was just making coffee. Want some?”

“Sure,” he said, raising his eyebrows, his eyes lingering on you for a beat too long.

The silence stretched as you busied yourself with the coffee machine. He didn’t move closer, didn’t sit down. You knew he was waiting for you to say something.

“Last night…” you began.

“Yeah?” he prompted, quick to reply.

“It was…” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “I’m sorry.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “Sorry?”

“It’s just…” You hesitated, the words tumbling out. “So much alcohol. And the break-up. I wasn’t—I don’t know. I’m just sorry.”

His expression flickered, something guarded settling in his eyes. “Right... Yeah, of course. I’m sorry too”

Before either of you could say more, there was a loud knock on the door.

“Thank God,” you muttered under your breath, heading to open it.

Max stood there, looking like death warmed over, his sunglasses pushed up into his messy hair, more like you were feeling.

“Kill me,” he groaned, brushing past you and collapsing onto the couch.

“Good morning to you too,” Lando said, handing him a bottle of water from the fridge.

“What did we do last night?” Max asked, his voice muffled by the pillow he’d shoved his face into.

Lando smirked. “You challenged a group of strangers to a dance-off. And lost.”

“Tragic,” Max mumbled. He lifted his head slightly, squinting at you both. “Anyway, what are we watching?”

Before you could protest, he was scrolling through the options on your streaming service, settling on an over-the-top action flick.

You exchanged a glance with Lando, who gave you a small, almost imperceptible shrug before sitting down on the couch.

Max patted the cushion beside him. “Come on, both of you. Misery loves company.”

As the movie played, with Max sitting between you and Lando, you occasionally glanced over to Lando, whose eyes were glued to the TV. Max made his usual sarcastic comments, keeping the atmosphere light. On the outside everything looked exactly the same, but even as you laughed along, you couldn’t shake the feeling that things weren’t quite the same.

- The following months were a strange blur—a whirlwind of processing the breakup, diving into work, and navigating race weekends. Of course, you still went to the races. Skipping them would have been unthinkable, far too weird. But it felt different. You had decided to keep some distance from Lando, convinced it was the right thing to do. Maybe for him, maybe for you. You didn’t expect him to do the same. It wasn’t overt enough for anyone else to notice. To the untrained eye, nothing had changed. You were still at every race, still part of the usual group settings. But the small moments—the ones that used to belong to just the two of you—those were gone.

No impromptu meet-ups in random cities. No late-night texts or phone calls that had nothing to do with racing. The unspoken routine you’d fallen into over the years had quietly unraveled, and no one else seemed to notice. Lando was having the season of his life, the world around him growing brighter and louder with every race. Media attention surged, fans swarmed, and with the success came a revolving door of new people. Girls. Even Magui made an appearance again.

It all looked perfectly normal from the outside—like you were just giving him space to focus, like his rising stardom left no room for anything else. But you knew better. You felt the distance that had never been there before, even if no one else could see it.

Max noticed, of course. He was the one person who would. “You and Lando good?” he had asked one evening, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.

You’d brushed it off with a shrug. “Just don’t love this side of F1,” you’d said vaguely, which wasn’t entirely untrue. You didn’t press further, and to your relief, neither did he. He seemed satisfied enough, happy, in fact, to have more of your time to himself.

The awkward radio silence between Lando and you was interrupted by the buzz of your phone. His name flashed on the screen. Surprised you picked up the phone.

“Hey,” 

“Hey…” he replied, his voice a touch uncertain, like he wasn’t quite sure how to start.

There was a pause, and then he dove in. “Listen, I wanted to ask you something. I’m sorry to bother you with this—you can say no—but, um…” He hesitated, and you could almost hear him scratching the back of his neck through the phone.

“You know how I absolutely hated the FIA awards on my own last year?” he continued. “It was boring, long, and just... the worst. Thing is, you’re only allowed to bring a date, and I was wondering if you’d come with me. Reckoned you’d look better in photos than Max.”

A laugh slipped out before you could stop it. “So let me get this straight—this is an invite to a boring, long night that you hated? Wow, what a proposition.”

You heard his laugh on the other end of the line, warm and genuine. “Well, when you say it like that, it sounds terrible. But yeah, basically.”

“You owe me for this.” you agreed.

“Big time,” he said, you could hear his grin through the phone.

— 16 december 2025

The invitation to the FIA awards came with more than just a request for your company. It came with a trip—this year, the gala was being held in Cape Town, South Africa. When Lando explained the logistics over the phone, you weren’t sure what surprised you more: that the event was happening on another continent or that McLaren had arranged for the team’s private jet to take you there.

When you arrived at the airstrip, the sight of the sleek McLaren jet against the orange and purple hues of the evening sky made your chest tighten with nerves.

“Finally,” Lando said, a playful grin spreading across his face as he spotted you. He was already dressed casually, a bag slung over one shoulder. “Thought you were going to ditch me.”

“I considered it,” you said with a smirk, adjusting the strap of your own bag.

Oscar appeared next, giving you a quick nod and a grin. “Looking forward to this?”

“Not particularly,” you admitted.

“Good. Neither am I.”

When you were all settled in the jet, it felt familiar. Traveling together like always, the years of friendship taking over, diminishing the awkward last few months.

“Let’s play?” Oscar asked, shuffling a deck of cards. “Lando taught me that complicated game you guys always play.”

Your eyes lit up at the mention. “Oh, really? That’s nice—let’s do it.”

Oscar grinned. “I like it, but I always lose when I play with Lando.”

“Of course you do,” you said with a laugh. “He probably cheats. He always does.”

“I don’t” Lando protested, though the smirk on his face wasn’t exactly convincing.

Oscar narrowed his eyes, glancing at the cards, coming to the realization. “Yeah, sure. That’s what someone who cheats would say.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Trust me, we don’t even count his wins anymore. It’s just embarrassing at this point.”

“Unbelievable,” Lando muttered, feigning outrage as he dealt the cards.

-

Arriving at the hotel, it was as luxurious as you’d expected, with marble floors and floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the city. Your rooms were adjacent, even though McLaren probably did the booking, it was a detail that shouldn’t have meant anything but somehow felt significant, having always shared rooms.

“You’ve got to see the view from my room,” Lando said, leaning against your doorframe with a grin.

“Maybe later, I’m sure it’s exactly the same, we gotta get ready” you replied, pretending not to notice the way his gaze lingered on you. 

-

The sound of a knock on your hotel room door pulled you from the mirror where you were applying the finishing touches to your makeup.

“Coming!” you called, carefully stepping into your heels before opening the door. Lando stood on the other side, already in his tuxedo, the bow tie slightly askew in a way that was annoyingly charming.

He opened his mouth to greet you, but the words caught in his throat as his eyes swept over your dress—a sleek black dress with a low back.

“You look… wow,” he finally managed, his voice lower than usual.

You felt your cheeks heat under his gaze. “Thanks. You look great too” He looked every bit the world champion he’d just become—poised, confident, yet still undeniably him.

“Yeah, but no one’s going to be looking at me tonight,” he said, his lips quirking into that familiar teasing smile. 

You rolled your eyes, trying to shake off the warmth. “Let’s go before you make us late.”

-

The ballroom was breathtaking. Chandeliers sparkled overhead, casting golden light onto the polished marble floor. Tables were adorned with elaborate centerpieces, and waiters weaved through the crowd with trays of champagne. It was a scene straight out of a fairytale, and for a moment, you felt like you didn’t belong.

Lando leaned closer as you both descended the grand staircase. “Forgot how glamorous this all is, didn’t you?”

“A little,” you admitted. “It’s easy to forget this is also your life.”

He grinned. “I’d trade this for a karting track any day.”

You both mingled, exchanging pleasantries with familiar faces. Zak Brown greeted you with a wide smile.

“Wow, look at you two,” Zak said, his tone teasing. “A proper power couple. Took you becoming world champion to finally get her as your date, huh?”

Lando’s cheeks turned pink, but he rolled with it. “Guess I had to up my game, huh?”

‘’Wow,” Max Verstappen said as he passed by, giving you an appraising look. “You look... different.”

“Thanks, Max,” you said dryly.

“No, I mean good,” he added quickly, looking mildly embarrassed. “Not like in the paddock, screaming your lungs out for McLaren.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Lando shot back with a grin. “She’ll still be screaming for McLaren tonight.”

-

The formalities of the evening dragged on, speeches blending into one another as awards were handed out. You tried to keep up, but your attention waned as the night wore on.

Lando leaned closer during one particularly dry speech, whispering, “See how I was dying on my own last year?”

You stifled a laugh. “You poor thing.”

“Don’t worry. I have a plan to make this bearable.”

It didn’t take long for you to discover his plan—a subtle drinking game he’d invented. Whenever the FIA would say how amazing the FIA is, you both took a sip of your drinks.

By the time the speeches ended, you were both giddy, the tension from the past few weeks melting into laughter.

-

As the night wore on, the drinking caught up with Lando. You were heading toward the restrooms when he groaned at the sight of the long men’s line, compared to an empty women’s, illustrative of the crowd at the event.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered, glancing at the empty women’s restroom.

“Don’t even think about it,” you warned.

But before you could stop him, he ducked inside.

“So this is what the women’s bathroom is like,” he said, looking around with mock appreciation. “Fancy.”

“It’s not a sightseeing tour,” you said, exasperated. “Hurry up.” 

He darted into a stall, leaving you to shake your head in disbelief. When he emerged moments later, you were washing your hands at the sink.

Lando leaned against the counter, his playful grin softening as he caught your gaze in the mirror. “Hey,” he said, his voice quieter now.

“What?” you asked, not entirely sure where this was going.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his tone sincere. “I mean, with... everything? Dylan. The break up. Us.”

You paused, drying your hands slowly. “Why do you always wait until we’re in a bathroom to have serious conversations?”

“Maybe I like the acoustics,” he said, his grin returning briefly before fading again. “Seriously, though. Are we okay?”

The question hung in the air, the tension between you almost tangible.

“I...” You hesitated, not entirely sure how to answer. “I think so. Are you?”

His gaze lingered on you, something unspoken passing between you before he nodded. “Yeah. I think so.”

It wasn’t a resolution, but it was enough for now.

-

As the night wore on, the drinks kept flowing. You and Lando drifted back toward the crowd, laughing and joking with Max, Oscar, and a few others.

At one point, Christian Horner walked by, offering a polite nod. As he passed, Lando’s hand casually patted your bum.

“Lando?!” you hissed in shock, your voice low but sharp.

“What?” he replied, feigning innocence.

“We’re in public!”

“So? Is that the only reason I’m not allowed to do that?” he teased, his eyes glinting mischievously.

You gave him a look, fighting the urge to smile.

-

The ride back to the hotel was a blur of laughter and lingering glances. The whole night together had forced some flashbacks from the previous night you spent together. Even though your mind had pushed it away, your body betrayed you, longing for the way it had felt—how good it had been.

You hesitated at your door, fumbling with the key card. Lando stood next to you, his hand resting lightly against the wall as he watched you.

“Goodnight,” you said softly, your voice carrying the weight of everything unsaid.

But instead of moving to his door, Lando took a step closer, his voice low. “You’re just going to leave me alone after a night like that?”

You turned to face him, the air between you charged with tension. “We’ve had a lot of champagne, Lando.”

His lips quirked into a small, playful smile. “Exactly. Perfect excuse for bad decisions.”

You tried to suppress a laugh, but his easy confidence had already disarmed you.

“Come on,” he added, his voice dipping lower. “We’re both thinking it.”

Your heart raced as you opened your door, stepping inside without a word. Lando followed, letting the door click shut behind him.

The room felt warmer, the air heavier with anticipation. You kicked off your heels, the plush carpet soft under your feet as you turned to face him.

“Lando...” you began, but your voice faltered as he stepped closer, his gaze locking onto yours.

“Tell me to go, and I will,” he murmured, his hand brushing lightly against your arm.

But you didn’t.

When he kissed you, it wasn’t rushed like last time. It was slow, deliberate, as though he wanted to savor every moment. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheekbones as he deepened the kiss. It was a contrast to the wildness of your last encounter—a quiet intensity that felt both overwhelming and grounding.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, the heat of his body seeping into yours. When his lips left yours, trailing down your jaw to your collarbone, your breath hitched, your fingers threading through his hair.

WN: This was a fun chapter to write!! Long one!! needed after the previous short one. My original story line has 10 chapters :((( But i think im going to continue it a bit longer, I love this story much and dont want to start a new story yet because I like this one too much. Excited to see a new interview of Lando, so cute how excited he talks about Quadrant, but am I the only one who questions his fashion choices sometimes?? The blazer quarter zip combo, I’m not sure. I don’t know why I’m so critical i love him and its not bad but idk hahaha.

tl: @ash88-yep @lewishamiltonismybf @harrysdimple05@lex2205 @il0vereadingstuff @martygraciesversion381 @joannaln4 @obxstiles@chaoswithus@motorsportloverf1 @therovanperaastonmartini@acesofspadess @widow-cevans @irisesinthegarden@ncrsbrg @f1fantasys @norrisainz33 @mayax2o07 @ipushhimback @milkysoop @annimausi

[itstheghostofmypast]

Sugarplum

Husband Choi San x (F) Reader

Summary: So he loved HIS ROLLS HUH?!

Genre: Fluff

Rating: SFW

Word Count: 1 K

Est. Read Time: 5 min

Warnings: None

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

"IDIOTS!-"

Sitting up straight the man squinted at the dimly lit room, trying to blink away the sleep as he pushed off the soft quilts, the pads of his feet tingling at the feeling of the cold floor. A feeling he did not like but had to endure because his little sugarplum wasn't in bed with him. Well, technically you had not gone to bed with him, instead the two of you had argued about something before he retired off to bed- mind you, it was not his fault, it was the world that was against him today…or maybe he should have been more careful? There was no real defense, but he did not expect to find you at home, glaring at him as soon as he had entered the apartment, declaring his arrival on the top of his lungs.

“Oh look Byeolie, a cheater.”

“I-Excuse me?” he squeaked, staring at you standing there in the living room with your hands on your hips, wearing a messy apron, glaring at him.

“Come on Byeol, we don’t need to engage with cheaters.”

That statement had led to march into the kitchen and stared at his wife teary eyes, “W-what do you mean? Love, what’s wrong? I-I’m sure there's been a misunderstanding!” he’d never do something like that to you, especially not when he started courting you the moment your father had hired him, a college student in his first year, and you had to supervise him, even though you two were almost the same age. From the way you would help him with everything, cleaning, mopping, teaching him how to knead dough, how to use a frosting pipe, and how to make a perfect cup of coffee- he really should thank you for that more.

Though for some reason you didn’t budge, he noticed the way your expressions softened, but you said nothing and only turned around to face the scattered baking items on the counter, taking a deep breath as you mumbled, “I’ll bring you dinner.”

After a silent lonely dinner, he had gone to place his plates in the dishwasher, glancing at you for some kind of reaction but you kept avoiding him, too busy doing something else, even Byeol had decided to give him the silent treatment. He honestly couldn’t figure out what he had done? Even when he hugged you from behind, whispering, “Let’s…go to sleep.” You had slipped out of his hold and cleared your throat, “I’m not tired…you go on ahead.”

Oh…right, he had gone to bed alone too- but why weren’t you there with him?

He had thought of talking to you about it, when you were to come to bed, but he had work in the morning and he was tired, and somewhere between the ticking hours, he had fallen asleep, snuggling with your pillow.

Giving one last look at your shared bed, feeling something brew within him, he continued to walk out to the room, wanting to clear it out no matter what it was, your relationship was stronger than this, you two had gone through worse- but he knew that you were also someone who’d quiet down when you were unsure of something. Like the time he had to quit working at the bakery, simply because he was done with college and needed to pursue a job in his designated profession.

“You're….quitting?” You had mumbled, staring at the letter of resignation your father had signed to let him go with pride. You had watched him appreciate San's success, though you only stared at him blankly before going back to work, and much like now, when he had approached you, you had brushed him off, mumbling, “Bye”.

Only back then he had let you go, nodding and leaving, though over the years he had realised his mistake, the world had shaped the young boy into the same man who had barged into the bakery four years later, admiring the way how you, the new owner since your father had retired, was busy as a bee. That is until he had grabbed your hand and dragged you into the office and kissed you without question, which was stupid because as soon as he had pulled back you had giggled, “What if I said I'm married?” His world had come to a halt at that, the thought of being a homewrecker tearing at him for a good 10 minutes until you burst out laughing at his stupidity.

So, that's what he was gonna do now to, kiss it out of you, he was going to sit you down after and explain to you how if he had never met you back in the bakery, his twink era, he would probably never have found love-

“GOD, I HATE MEN!”

He peeked into the kitchen, flinching at the clang of the pot you had slammed on the counter, it was ironic how Byeol who was curled up on your cardigan that was bunched up on the bar stool, next to the one he was now sitting on, chin in palm.

You turned around and gasped, hand pressed against your heart, taking a deep breath, “I-God, you scared me- s-sorry, did I wake you up, Sannie?”

‘Sannie'- guess the anger had subsided.

Shaking his head he gave you a small pout, “Woke up cause you weren't there- are you…do you wanna tell me…what's going on?” He mumbled, staring around at the several cinnamon roll trays that were lying around the kitchen, the pan filled with the white cream sauce, some that had made its way onto Byeol's tail.

“I…nothing… its stupid.” You mumbled, as you began to clean up, trying not to look at him when he made his way to you and grabbed your hands, pulling you closer, “You signed a contract with stupidity when you married me.”

Closing your eyes at his stupid comment, you mumbled like a child, “I saw you having the Cinnamon rolls from Jung's bakery.”

“What.” He frowned, trying to hear you better, “You saw me having Wooyoung’s what?”

“HIS CINNAMON ROLLS!”

You shoved him away and pointed at the mess, “You bastard! U married me!” You pointed at yourself, “And then you have the balls to go and have his stupid rolls!? And” you picked up a roll, “His recipe is so stupid! Men are so stupid! Why is everything measured according to ‘just wing it gurl’- what does that even mean!?” He blinked at you, watching you screech like a hawk at 3 am, “That bastard! I told him I'd trade my strawberry tart recipe with him if he gave me his cinnamon roll recipe that YOU apparently love-”

The slight pressure on your lips cut you off, as you to fisted his shirt in frustration, tugging him closer until he cupped your face to create some room to take a breath- he'd have to piss you off more if that's the kind of kiss he’d get- “I…” he panted, resting his forehead against yours, “Only had them because your bakery was closed today…remember?”

“...”

“I love you, my sweet little sugarplum-”

“Shut up and help me clean, Choi.”

[lj-lephemstar]

Progress Checkup! (Jan. 2025) | Scratchin' Melodii Devlog

Hey guys! Time for another progress checkup; This is actually the first one of the new year! I hope you were all able to enjoy the holidays. I took a bit of a break from working on most stuff last month and have been getting back on things this month. First, I wanna thank everyone who's wishlisted Scratchin' Melodii on Steam! So far, the game's gotten over 17,000 wishlists! Thanks so much for the support!

In the previous devlog, I mentioned some changes to the rhythm system. In the Dragon Funk preview, you can see the new rhythm system and character icons I mentioned in the previous devlog! Actually, let's unpack some of the new things you're seeing in action there:

Hold Notes This is the first song in the game to include hold-notes! They mostly work the same as they would in any other rhythm game. However, since this game has an emphasis on self expression, moving the control stick during these will let you tune the note's pitch-bend for extra expression points! I showed that off in a post here. As for Pow Notes, I've been working on a way to let the player get expression points from these too! I'd like for most of the special notes like these to be not just a gimmick, but a tool that the player can use to their advantage.

Quadruple Lines Yep! The first blue line in this one is extra long and has 4 rows! Fun fact actually, I had to implement this feature after I realized that part of the song was too long to fit in just two rows. It was pretty difficult to figure out both how to do it and how to execute it in a way that doesn't feel too jarring, but I'm pretty satisfied with the results! In fact, barely anyone's even noticed it; I guess that's just how natural it feels! Not sure how much more often I'll be having lines longer than two rows, but it's great that I have the option now.

AutoPlay You might also notice that the player inputs are perfectly timed... TOO perfect... that's because I've developed an autoplay feature for the game! At the moment, it's mostly for debugging and stuff, but if all goes according to plan, AutoPlay Mode and Replays should hopefully be available to players as well in some form when the game comes out!

"Next" Indicator & Other UI Related QoL Some of the top things players said they had trouble with in the demo were related to being prepared for the next line. So, if you look at the right-end of the rhythm bars, you'll see a little tab that shows the color and amount of rows the next line will have! Also, now each line's suggested notes can be seen before the rival performs them. This did take some thought, as I actually kinda still liked the idea of it appearing as if the characters were making it up on the spot, but to put game design first, it makes more sense to have it displayed as soon as possible so the player has more time to react and prepare. This also opens up more possibilities for future mechanics, so in the long run, I think I've made the best choice here.

Now, let's get into what I've been and/or will be working on that you haven't seen yet!

Act 2's Boss The music for the Act 2 Boss is  nearly complete! I'll likely be starting to animate it pretty soon. This song is the longest one I've done so far, clocking at a duration of a little over 3 minutes long!

More Animation Updates for Stir & Mix At this point, I've done even more cleanups on the sequence you saw in the last devlog and I've finished animating the "I wanna" scene of the song, which will probably have the most changes out of any other scene in the song. When I first animated Stir & Mix, I didn't quite have the time or skills to do everything I really wanted to do with it. That scene in particular I felt was WAY too stiff and boring, especially compared to the more dynamic and fluid scenes that appear in some of the other the stages now. I'd say I'm about halfway done retouching all the animations for this one!

Refined Model Sheets I don't talk about these very often, but sometime around 2023 I started using model/reference sheets for the characters. (I might show them off someday, but for now they're staying private!) Before this point, the designs are pretty inconsistent from shot to shot, so this helped a lot with that. Recently, I've done some revisions I'm really pleased with. Their designs are finally becoming... well, final! I'll be reworking the affected characters' hub world sprites at some point to reflect these changes.

Slight Reworks for some Act 1 Songs On the sound side, Stir & Mix's vocals have been reworked again! As I've mentioned in the previous devlog, 2cada's tuning style and techniques have evolved a bit since we first started working together, so we thought it'd be fun to go back and incorporate some of that into it. We'll also probably be reworking the structure of Nami's song a little bit at some point just to make it a feel a bit more solid, which may require a new line or two from her voice actor, Meggie-Elise! So funnily enough, it seems some of the songs will have end up having TWO unused beta versions after this.

Also, a quick PSA: Please note that beta versions of content will NOT be included in the full game. I've heard people ask for them to be "brought back" or toggleable, but in my situation something like that is both easier said than done and I also just... don't want to LOL. With as many directions I can take this game, I know I can't satisfy everyone, but I can make a game that satisfies me, so I'm aiming for that! And hey, maybe other people will like it too.

I think that's all I wanna talk about for now! Thanks so much for reading. It can be a bit of a daunting task to write these at times, but I'm glad to keep you up to date on the project when I can.

-LJ

[flamewarrior11]

I was summoned to the chamber of the Supreme god, I was intrigued as to why they would summon me, I figured I would understand when I got there. Upon arriving at the massive door I adjusted my outfit, despite being a god of fire, born since the beginning of my powers, I adopted outfits similar to humans, much like the other gods and goddesses in the realm, this time it was a simple dark red suit.

I entered the chamber, it was a massive room of space, the state shone brightly as I walked on a semi clear platform approaching the center of the room, there I saw the Supreme God, a being larger than all the others. Their body changing and shifting, it shines brightly as they were made up of the very stars and space they created. “Ah welcome Pyros it is good to see you” Supreme said, their voice sounding of multiple different people from earth. “The honor is mine oh Supreme God, I must ask however, why have I been summoned?” I asked, bowing before them.

“This child here” Supreme God said waving their hand as before me a young child appeared, they were small, roughly the size of a human child, they wore a grayish black dress, their hair was a bright red and yellow, much like my own. “And they are?” I asked. “A new God, born from man’s work, in a similar way to you” Supreme God said, i looked at the little girl, she was scared, and confused. “I would like you to raise them.” Supreme Then said. “Why me?” I asked. “You both have much in common, for she is the goddess of Explosions.” Supreme said. Suddenly I found myself outside their chamber, the child goddess next to me.

“So your the goddess of explosions eh? I’m Pyros, God of Flames” I said kneeling down to the kid. “I-I didn’t mean to” she said, sniffling, they sounding like small pops and crackles. “Didn’t mean to do what?” I asked. “Hurt the humans. They made explosions, and me a-and used me to hurt eachother. I-I don’t wanna be mean” she said. “Ah. I see.” I said.

It then clicked in my head why Supreme wanted me to raise the kid. We were similar in a sense. Man found fire and used it to warm themselves but eventually they used my gift to destroy and harm themselves. “Come with me” I said standing up and offering her my hand. “B-But won’t I explode?” She asked nervously looking at it. “Don’t worry kid, you’ll be fine” I said, giving her a reassuring smile. She then placed her tiny hand in mine. I held her hand softly, yet firmly as I began to lead her down the long corridors, showing her around the domain of the gods.

"See you are are rare occurrence kid, not many gods or goddesses born from the creations of mankind. Some do adopt human interpretations, like electricity, lightings been around ever since the planet earth, but they adapted how humans utilize the stuff." I explained as we arrived at a window, looking down on earth.

"But isnt electricity useful? I just destroy things" the small goddess said. "Yes, as do I, but that doesn't make us evil, none of the gods, goddesses and deities here are inherently good or evil. we all have a role to play, look" I said tapping the window, suddenly it zoomed in on the earth, showing a war, as multiple explosions were seen. I saw this scared the kid. "Some roles bad, but other roles are good" I said swiping the window as we now saw a building being destroyed via explosions.

"See they blew that old building up because it was damaged and could've hurt humans, but with careful explosions they were able to destroy it so a new one could be built' I explained. "So, not all explosions are bad?" She asked. "Nope, heck Supreme made an explosion to create everything around us, I'm honestly surprised you weren't here since the beginning, but hey you are here now" I smirked.

"But, can i make it so the humans done use explosions for bad stuff?" The young goddess asked. "No, but you can guide them to find the more enjoyable parts of the explosions. You gotta take the bad with the good, that's life, not just for humans but for us, just know to always look on the bright side." I then said showing the young goddess what humans call a fireworks display. Her eyes lit up in amazement. I smiled, seeing her timidness go away as she was in awe of what she can do.

I soon began to show her around the domain, various places and some of the others. I told her everything i could about the domain of the gods. "Since Supreme asked me to watch you and mentor you, you will be staying with me, is that okay kid?" I asked her. "Uh Sure thing Mr Pyros" She replied. "Just Pyros is fine" I said before realizing something.

"Thinking about it, you are gonna need a name" I said, carrying the little one on my shoulders. "What do you mean Pyros?" She asked. "Well that, see I have a name the others call me, Pyros, but in some religions I am Nyambe, Ra, Ogun, Zhurong, Helios and many more, every fire god and deity in human religion, I am them, to the humans." I explained. "Do humans have an explosion goddess?" The young one asked. "Not that I am aware of, don't worry I'm sure you can get a name or two from them, but for now how about Powder?" I suggested.

"Why powder?" she asked. "Like gun powder, the first explosion man made." I explained. "Oh, how do you know that?" She asked

I gave her a hearty chuckle. "I'm the god of flames, I was pretty much there when they first tested gunpowder, that's why Supreme wants me to teach ya, heck if ya think about it, you are kinda like a daughter to me, or something, I dunno if it works that way" "Hm, okie! I am Powder goddess of Explosions!" She cried out triumphantly. I smirked and began to take her to my home. "Hm hey Pyros Can I change my outfit?" Powder asked. "Of course, our forms are simply based off of how we imagine ourselves, if that makes sense, watch" I said placing Powder down. My suit soon became fire as it turned into a red leather jacket and jeans. "Ooooh! Lemme try!" She said focusing, suddenly she exploded.

"POWDER!" I yelled out as the smoke cleared she stood there unharmed, her one greyish black dress was now a dark blue with bursts of color on it, her hair done up in a pony tail looking like the wick of a firework as a hairclip that looked like a cartoonish bomb was seen. She also had the biggest grin on her face. Soon we both laughed as i ruffled her hair chuckling "Do not do that again ya little firecracker" I smirked. "heheh no promises" She said giving a giggle that a human would call a gremlin laugh. I could tell, things will be interesting having her around. "So the bomb hair clip?" I asked. "Well, you said I should accept the bad of my powers too, I kinda figured this would be a good step" She said. "Good thinkin kiddo" I smirked

We continued our way to home, and I knew this would be the start of a good mentorship.

"Oh! Probably should mention my wife huh" "whos your wife Pyros?"

As the God of Fire, the Supreme God has tasked you to supervise and educate a newly manifested Goddess. You find a sad, terrified, and confused child, fearful of her powers and the destruction it caused the mortal realm. You are to guide a being born from Man's work, The Goddess of Explosions.

[tales-of-wocdes]

Because of their past, MC developed huge pain tolerance. If everything suddenly felt colder than usual, MC didn't feel it. If their stomach kinda hurt, MC just ignored it. Then it stunned MC when they suddenly couldn't move their body or fainted. Harvard and Lexia had to schedule the medical check-up more often.

Hmm, you feel a bit odd. There is this odd twisty thing happening in your stomach. Why is the world so foggy? Why is it spinning?

Oh well. You dash off, there is a cookie jar to raid.

Reaching the kitchens you reach out to open the door. Why is your hand shaking so much? It's even harder to open the door than usual. You still manage it, you have lots of practice with your bad hands.

Soon you are inside the kitchen, and head for your goal. The cookie jar is just there. So close.

So close, yet so far. Why is it getting farther? Why are you seeing the floor? Did your legs fail again? Why is it so foggy?

"Kid?"

Is that Lexia. Darn, you are caught... again. Maybe she will let you have a cookie. Why is she up there? Was she waiting for you clinging to the roof? That's not fair...

"Kid?!"

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

Lexia dashed forwards to catch MC as they went down. The kid was burning up.

"Kid?" She asked, and got no real reaction "Kid?!" She asked again.

Instead of answering, MC's eyes closed and the child went limp. "Fuck". Lexia grabbed MC and went running towards the healing baths, grasping her communication pin.

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

"Havard, the kid's out cold and burning hot. Meet you in the baths." Lexia's voice ran through Havard's head and the Head Custodian stood from his desk.

Soon he was running towards the healing baths.

"What happened?" He thought into the pin.

"Passed out while trying to steal cookies." Lexia's thoughts came quickly.

Havard pursed his lips. Of course MC told no one, or perhaps did not notice, when something hurt or something was wrong. Still, sickness again? So soon. It was not that long ago when MC had had that whole rabies episode.

He was worried, so he made a decision. He focused on the his communicator pin and thought. "This is Head Custodian Havard. I would like a healer from the spire to visit the orphanage."

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

It's wet when you open your eyes. Ah... you are in the baths again, floating. Why do you spend so much time here? It is so odd.

"Stay still, tiny human." Says a voice you have never heard before.

You blearily look about but only feel something hold your head steady, gently but firmly.

"Stay still." The voice repeated... and you stayed still. It was not that you did not try to move, just that some force did not let you to. It made you panic, as you remember hands holding you down, knives carving into you.

You already dreaded the first cut, tensing as you waited for it. How? Why? How are you back here?.... It took you a good while to notice there was no pain. It was a gentle force, like a heavy blanket on top of you.

"Do not panic, adjusting for that will be annoying with those hands being so sensitive." The voice said.

"MC, please stay still."

Havard. That second voice was Havard, and this was the orphanage.

"I am done." The voice said and only now you noticed something retreating from you. A slight warm feeling that was all over you, except your hands. "The tiny human is fine but regular visits into the bath will help."

You hear a splash and try to turn to look but Havard is suddenly there, covering your vision and picking you up from the bath.

"Thank you, Lo...." Havard starts, but is cut off.

"Leaving now. Try to teach the tiny human to tell you if they feel pain."

You look up at Havard and notice that he is not looking at the person either. Looking around around, you note Lexia is standing outside the bath and pointedly staring at the wall instead of the the figure walking out of the bath.

All you see is the steam off their clothes as they suddenly dry outside of the bath, and the long luxurious black hair reaching down to their waist.

The figure walks out and you never see their face. As soon as the figure is out of the room, both Lexia and Havard exhale in relief.

Lexia smiles at you and glares at Havard. "What did you say when you contacted the spire?"

"That we needed a healer." Havard says, looking a bit shaken.

"Then why did the fu..." She glances at you. "Freaking Archmage of the Ancients show up?"

Archmage? Who's that? You peer at the two... and in a rather Lexia like display of nonchalance, Havard shrugs.

"Maybe he was bored?" He offers.

[cleolinda]

JANUARY 5: I got turned around and went all the way back to the cemetery. You know, the second place you go ever in Silent Hill 2.

JANUARY 6, TWO WEEKS AGO: I actually downloaded and learned to use Audacity to clean this audio up at least a little, because a beloved family member opened and closed the garage door at the beginning and end of my very first attempt at fighting anything in a video game ever. (A "lying figure" that vomits acid at you; I don't describe it and you don’t hear it, but consider that a content note.) I would have scrapped the recording, but you never get a first time twice, I guess.

By this point, I am still bumping James into things and my camera movements are a bit wild, but I can mostly get him through doors.

(Comments directed at my player character are in parentheses.) {Comments directed at the enemy/monster are in brackets and bold.}

[Muttering at first:] All right, so I gotta get to this door to get our radio, our monster detector/wife communicator. (All right, point you through the door—we're gonna die. We're about to die.)

Okay. [Determined sigh.] I've got the mouse, the external mouse. We're gonna move the phone back a little bit to record. [Sigh.] 

(Go ahead and look at your nails. Go ahead and grunt at me.) 

I have to... I’m gonna take off my sweater, it's getting hot. Here we go. [Pep talk:] No, I got a mouse. I got a mouse. Everything is left click. Everything is left click, except space is dodge. And then we hope we're not gonna die… okay. Listen, if this is humiliating, the point of it is that y'all can laugh at me. That is the point of this recording. 

All right, can't turn back. What—get the—get the camera! Okay. When I hit this letter E... [sigh] I can't turn back. Shit starts up. Here we go: E. 

[Unfortunate sound of garage door.] Ohhhhhh, here's the cutscene, ohhh nooo. Okay, here's the monster, I'm so scared. I'm not scared of the monster, I'm scared of getting humiliated. (I know, I'm not happy about it either, James.) It breaks... it breaks through the... wooden... barrier somebody has. It's... fucked-up looking. He turns around... he grabs Nails on Stick from the window. “Stay back,” he says—oh, my God. [Vehement mouse-clicking.] Oh my God. Hit it. Hit it, hit it. Oh, we're not doing terrible. We're not doing terrible.

[Indignant:] {Oh no, don't you hit him!!}

Ohhh, I got vomited on. Okay. [Tone you would use to beckon to a small animal:] {No, no, c’mere... c’mere...} I got vomited on a lot. Here we go. {No—don't you dare, don't you dare—}

Oh, oh God, okay. Heal? Heal? Heal. Just—fucking heal. [Garage door.] Okay—oh, that was a good one. Got a good hit. {Oh, don't you fucking do that.} Oh God, he's gonna die. He's gonna die—I've never done this before. He is gonna die so hard. [Vehement mouse-clicking.] Hit it. Hit it. Stomp it. There we go, get it. {Are you dead? [Click.] You're not dead. [Click.] You're still not dead. [Click.] } (Stomp it. Stomp it. Okay.) {Are—are you dead?} Ohhh it’s dead—he said, “What was that thing?” [which indicates that the tutorial is over], he’s dead, she’s dead, somebody's dead. 

Okay, so I'm dying. I'm like, super plus… dead. Okay... I've got the plus sign [that indicates you are near death] come up. 

(I know, buddy, I know, I deserve everything. I deserve all bad things.)

Do we go through the door? [I hit the wrong key:] He's dodging. Yeah, that's fair. Okay, we go through the door? We don't go through the door. The game is like, “Fuck that door. You can't go back.” [Long pause.] He's trying to go through the door. 

(Sweetie—sweetie, can we—thank you. Why… why are you… swinging at things?) 

Oh, he's limping so bad. He's... he's... he's hurtin’. He's hurtin’ real bad. 

At a key point, I accidentally held the V key down, which means I… would have used a syringe [a healing item stronger than a health drink], except I don't have one yet. That was bad. Please give me a syringe. This man is... not doing well, he's not. He's struggling. A lot of my problem—

(I know—sweetie, don't make those noises. I'm so sorry. I'm doing my best. Come on. My best is—) 

[Long gasp] It’s a syringe box!! (Go get it! Go get it! Get it! You can make it, you can make it.) You have to tap V for health drink and you hold it down for syringe and I didn't have a syringe yet. And that cost me precious time. Yes... he’s struggling, he's struggling so bad. 

[After using a syringe to pretty much fully heal:]

Okay. All right, so now we're gonna go through a window, right? We're gonna go through a window, we're gonna learn to do that. Oh, he's doing a lot better now, okay. Press—yeah, okay. Breaking glass is like the primary mechanic early on [laughing], that’s mostly what you do. Okay, so he's gonna stop and listen to the radio.

Okay, that was rough. But... I did better than some people. Some people get killed. Some people get killed in that first part, I did okay! [Tiny voice:] I didn't feel okay. I did okay! I got him out! (That's your wife, that's your wife on the radio. Just—let's get through this.)

I may go back to that save and try it again at some point. But see? It wasn't terrible? It wasn't terrible, we did okay! We did okay... 

That was… bad. That was ugly. That was real—

(No, I'm taking you—I'm going to—I'm sorry. I bumped you. I'm sorry.)

------

After that, I practiced fighting in the first area of the game on a couple of mini-runs through South Vale, and then went through the next two major areas. I'm very good at fighting basic monsters now, plus I’ve learned enough OBS to record gameplay with voice commentary! I’ve already inflicted further audio clips on everyone on Patreon, and I’ll probably bring a few more over here. As of today (1/22), I'm about to fight Pyramid Head for the first time, possibly with a video clip, and that'll also hit Patreon first.

If nothing else, it’s been fun to document my progress. I really did not think I was the kind of person who would stalk a dark apartment shouting “I HEAR YOU! COME OUT! COME GET ME!” but here we are.

[supernotnatural2005]

Cherry Pie

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Dean's feeling blue when he believes you have forgotten his birthday... or have you?

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: Swearing, SMUT!! (18+ONLY) fluff.

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAN WINCHESTER!! 🎉 in honour of @scoobydoodean 's birthday party for Dean 2025 post, I have wrote a little something for our favourite hunter. Boy it's a ride 😅 but I really enjoyed writing this one. I hope you enjoy. ☺️

Masterlist

Dean wasn’t one for birthday celebrations. To be honest, he’d never truly experienced one—not in the way most people did. Growing up in the life of a hunter didn’t leave much room for cake, candles, or balloons. Birthdays were just another day, marked by a new set of scars, another hunt, or a quiet night spent patching himself up. 

In his adult years, if he wasn’t in the middle of a case, he’d spend the night nursing a beer in some dimly lit bar, convincing himself he didn’t care. If he was lucky, he’d even find someone to warm his bed for the night, a fleeting distraction that never really filled the void. Birthdays were hollow, just another tally to another year alive.

But then, everything changed when he met you.

You’d stormed into his life like a hurricane, dismantling his defences and staking a claim on his heart before he even knew what hit him. At first, your insistence on making every occasion special baffled him.

He’d brush off your plans with a dismissive shrug, insisting he didn’t need all the fuss. But you were relentless. You made it your mission to show him he was deserving of celebration—of love—and you did it with such conviction that, slowly but surely, his walls began to crumble.

It wasn’t easy for him to accept at first. The scars of his past ran deep, and the idea that someone would go out of their way just for him felt foreign—almost wrong. But you had a way of breaking through his stubbornness with a smile, a laugh, or a simple touch that reminded him he wasn’t alone anymore. Over time, you turned his scepticism into something unexpected: anticipation.

However, as he shuffled into the kitchen that morning, seeing as you weren’t in bed when he woke up, he couldn’t help but glance in your direction, half-expecting some grand gesture or, at the very least, a good morning kiss. Instead, you barely looked up from the coffee machine, murmuring a quick “morning” before heading out, muttering something about reorganising supplies, leaving him confused beyond comprehension.

The rest of the day was no different. Every time Dean tried to strike up a conversation, you were already onto the next task—cleaning, organising, cataloguing. By lunchtime, he’d given up entirely, retreating to the war room with a beer in hand.

Dean told himself he didn’t care. It was just another day, after all. But the lack of acknowledgment, at all, from you stung more than he wanted to admit. He kept replaying moments from the day, wondering if he’d done something to upset you. Maybe he’d said something stupid. Maybe you were just tired of him? The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.

By the time evening rolled around, Dean was nursing his third beer and wallowing in a cocktail of self-doubt and resignation. “Figures,” he muttered to himself, leaning back in his chair. “Not like it matters anyway.”

But the ache in his chest told a different story. Maybe it was childish to sulk, but it was you who had made him this way. He was happy going on not caring, he didn’t need it. But you had somehow made him want it.

He eventually dragged himself to the kitchen for another drink. However, when he opened the fridge, his eyes landed on a folded note taped to a bottle of beer. Frowning, he pulled it off and read it:

“Beers on me, birthday boy. First clue: Where you pretend to ‘hit your mark’.”

Dean blinked at the note; it took him a minute to realise you’d been playing a game this whole time. He released a scoff of disbelief as well as slow smile creeping across his face. Boy did he feel dumb. Of course you wouldn’t forget.

A jolt of giddiness as well as warmth sparked in his chest, until he reread the note. “Okay, smart-ass,” he muttered, pocketing the paper.

He made his way to the armoury, scanning the shelves until his eyes landed on a second note taped to a shotgun.

���Nice work. Next stop: The place where you steal my snacks.”

Dean chuckled, especially at the hand drawn angry face. Shaking his head, he headed toward your bedroom. Sure enough, another note was waiting on the little snack box you stashed in your top draw.

“Getting warmer. Now, find the place where you brood the most.”

“That’s a low blow,” he grumbled, making his way to the war room. The next note was tucked under a stack of books on the table.

“Last one, Dean. Head back to where you lay your pretty little head at night.”

Dean laughed outright this time, pocketing the final note before heading to his room. When he pushed the door open, he stopped dead in his tracks.

The room was transformed. Strings of fairy lights crisscrossed the walls, casting a warm, intimate glow. On the desk to his left sat a cooler of his favourite beer, what looked to be a homemade baked pie. Apple, from the sweet and cinnamon’y scent, and a small box wrapped in colourful paper with a neatly tied with a bow. 

You stood in front of the bed, dressed in a pretty silk robe; your smooth legs bare, leaving him wondering if the rest of you was underneath, with your hands clasped nervously in front of you, a shy smile on your face.

“Happy birthday, Dean,” you said softly.

Dean stepped into the room, his eyes taking in every detail in awe. “You did all this?”

You nodded. “I… uh, baked the pie early this morning. That’s why I wasn’t here when you woke up. And I know it’s small but, here.” You handed him the gift, a nervous tick in your movements.

Dean took the box from your hands, his calloused fingers brushing yours. He turned it over, examining it with curiosity before shooting you a questioning look.

“Open it,” you scolded playfully, a giggle slipping out as he raised the box to his ear and gave it a testing shake. He smirked at your reaction but obeyed, tearing into the wrapping paper. He set the crumpled remains aside carefully, revealing a plain box underneath. Sliding off the lid, he pulled out a cassette tape.

It was labelled in your handwriting: ‘Dean Winchester’s Playlist.’

“I compiled all your favourite songs onto one tape… you know, for the longer drives. I figured it might come in handy,” you said, shrugging nonchalantly, though your insides churning with anxiety.

Dean’s smile was soft, almost reverent, as he looked at you, then back at the tape, cradling it like it was something precious. You always found new ways to surprise him. “I love it.”

“Wait,” he said suddenly, as a thought came to mind from a few days ago. “Is this why you ‘borrowed’ my box of tapes to reorganise them?” he asked, making air quotes with his fingers.

You grinned. “Guilty.”

Dean chuckled, a deep, warm sound that made your heart flutter. “I thought it was strange when you returned them, and they didn’t look any different.”

You bit your lip, the memory of sneaking around to plan this flashing through your mind. It had been no easy feat keeping it a secret, especially when you were together so often. And then this morning, when you kept up the facade not acknowledging his birthday, all in a ploy to get things ready.

You were thankful for Sam helping you place the notes whilst you got the room ready.

“Unorthodox methods had to be taken,” you said with a teasing glint in your eye.

“And here I thought you forgot,” Dean murmured, shaking his head. A pang of guilt crossed his face, knowing now how much effort you’d put into this.

“Forget your birthday?” you teased, though your tone was soft. “Not a chance.”

Dean’s smile softened as he took a step closer to you, setting the tape back on the table. “You didn’t have to go through all this, you know.”

“I wanted to,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, everything else faded. His green eyes shone in the glow of the fairy lights, filled with an emotion so raw it made your breath hitch.

“You’re something else,” he said, his voice thick with feeling as he reached up to brush a strand of hair from your face. His hand lingered, cupping your cheek as his thumb gently traced your skin.

And when his lips met yours, it was soft, almost tentative, as if he was savouring the moment. But as you responded, his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

The kiss deepened, a slow-burning fire igniting between you. Every ounce of tension from the day melted away, replaced by the warmth of his touch and the passion that simmered just beneath the surface.

You were lost in the moment, captivated by the way he held you, kissed you, made you feel as though you were the only thing that mattered. His free hand found your waist, anchoring you to him as he poured every unsaid word into the kiss.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and dazed, you managed a soft laugh. “I have one more surprise,” you mumbled, though it was hard to form a coherent thought when he was looking at you like that.

Dean’s arms tightened around you, his lips brushing against your jaw and trailing to your neck. “And what’s that?” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and husky.

You giggled, placing your hands on his chest to gently push him back just enough to speak. “You’re going to have to let me go first.”

He groaned dramatically but stepped back, his hands lingering on your waist. “This better be good,” he teased, a playful grin on his face.

“Oh, I’m positive you’ll think so.” You grinned over your shoulder as you pulled out a small box you had hidden behind the bedside table. Dean raised a surprised brow, only now just realising now how cunning you actually were. 

You opened the box and dumped the contents onto the bed. Dean walked over and stood behind you, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders as he examined what you had. Various bottles of scented oils and lotions spilled across the mattress, and he frowned in confusion.

“What’s all this?” he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

You turned to look at him, your grin widening as you leaned back slightly against his chest. “It’s for you,” you said simply.

“For me?” His brows furrowed further, though there was a hint of amusement and wonder in his eyes.

“It’s the next part of your surprise,” you murmured, your voice soft and teasing as your hands glided up his chest and over his broad shoulders. Your fingertips pressed into his muscles gently but with purpose, kneading just enough for him to feel the hint of your intentions.

Dean’s eyebrows lifted, his lips curving into that familiar boyish grin that always made your heart flutter. “A massage?” he asked, his tone tinged with playful curiosity but unmistakable enthusiasm.

“Mmhm,” you confirmed, stepping back with a bright smile. You moved toward the bedside, gathering a neatly folded stack of towels he hadn’t even noticed sitting off to the side.

Dean watched you with growing intrigue, his eyes flickering between the towels in your hands and the way you were now spreading them out across the middle of the bed.

“Just making sure the sheets don’t get ruined,” you replied with a sly grin at his questioning look. “These oils might smell good, but I don’t think they’re exactly laundry friendly.”

Dean chuckled, shaking his head with amused disbelief. “You’ve really thought this through, huh?”

“Damn right I have,” you shot back, your grin widening as you pointed toward him with playful authority. “Now, Winchester, off with the layers.”

Dean’s grin turned roguish, a familiar spark of mischief lighting up his green eyes. Slowly, he shrugged off his flannel, letting it fall to the floor before pulling his T-shirt over his head. His broad, toned chest came into view, the scars scattered across his skin telling stories of battles fought and survived. You bit your lip, letting your gaze linger a second longer than you intended.

Dean noticed—of course, he did. His smirk deepened, and the heat in his gaze was unmistakable as he kicked off his boots and slid his jeans down, leaving him standing there in nothing but his boxers.

“Face down,” you instructed, your voice steady despite the flutter of anticipation in your chest.

Dean tilted his head, giving you one last cheeky grin before doing as you asked. His strong, bowed legs carried him toward the bed with an easy saunter, and you couldn’t help but watch the way his muscles flexed and shifted with every step.

He stretched out on the bed with a low, satisfied groan, his back muscles contracting briefly before settling into the soft towels beneath him.

“Man,” he muttered, his voice muffled slightly by the pillow. “This is already shaping up to be the best birthday ever.”

A smile tugged at your lips as you grabbed one of the bottles of oil laying on the other side of the bed. With a quiet squeeze, you poured a generous amount into your palm, rubbing your hands together to warm the liquid. The rich, earthy scent of sandalwood mixed with the comforting sweetness of vanilla, filling the air between you.

Carefully straddling his hips, you started at his shoulders, your hands gliding over his skin in slow, deliberate movements. The tension in his muscles was evident immediately, knots hardened from years of carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders—both literally and figuratively.

“Damn, Baby,” you murmured, pressing your thumbs into a particularly tight spot between his shoulder blades. “How are you even walking around like this?”

He groaned at your touch, his head turning slightly to the side. “Years of practice. That, and the occasional beer.”

You chuckled softly, your movements becoming more purposeful as you kneaded the stubborn tension from his shoulders. “Not tonight,” you whispered. “Tonight, you’re going to relax.”

Your hands moved with intention, gliding down the curve of his spine, pausing to work out each knot and tight band of muscle. The scars beneath your fingertips were rough reminders of everything he had endured, but you treated them with reverence, your touch gentle yet firm.

Dean let out a deep, contented sigh, his body visibly relaxing under your hands. “Where the hell did you learn to do this?” he asked, his voice heavy with gratitude.

“Spent some time watching videos,” you admitted with a grin. “Figured I’d need to bring my A-game if I wanted to impress you.”

“You’ve got nothing to prove, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and full of affection.

Your hands moved to his arms next, massaging the strong muscles there before returning to his shoulders for another pass. The sound of his deep breathing filled the room, a clear sign that he was letting himself fully unwind.

As you leaned down, your lips brushed against the shell of his ear. “I love you,” you whispered, your voice rich with warmth and sincerity, the emotion swelling in your chest as your hands continued their devoted exploration of the man beneath your fingertips.

Dean turned his head slightly, his eyes still closed, but the slow, genuine smile that spread across his lips told you he’d heard you loud and clear. It wasn’t just the words—it was the way you said them, with a love so deep it felt like it wrapped around him, soothing the cracks he’d hidden from the world.

Although he was a man of very little words when it came to it, more of a shower than a teller, you knew he felt the same.

The tension seemed to melt away beneath your touch, replaced with the softness of surrender. You lingered at his shoulders, sweeping the area one last time, before sitting upright with a satisfied smile.

Dean’s eyes blinked open at the absence of your hands, his brow furrowing slightly before he rose onto his elbows with a deep groan, rolling his shoulders as if testing how light they now felt.

“Damn,” he muttered, his voice a little rough. “Didn’t think I could feel this loose.”

He turned to look at you over his shoulder, his green eyes narrowing with curiosity at the sly smile playing on your lips.

“On your back,” you instructed, your voice soft but laced with an unspoken promise that made the air between you hum with anticipation.

Dean’s brows lifted slightly, his lips twitching into a grin as he rolled onto his back, letting you slip off him to make space. His movements were deliberate but eager, his gaze never leaving yours. His eyes were hooded, glinting with both wonder and heat as he watched you, waiting for your next move.

You trapped your bottom lip behind your teeth, your gaze smouldering as you reached for the belt of your robe. Slowly, you untied it, letting the fabric part and glide down your body to pool in a crumpled heap at your feet.

Dean’s breath hitched audibly, his chest rising sharply as his eyes roamed over you, drinking in the sight. You were clad in nothing but a satin night-dress that skimmed every curve, the soft fabric clinging in all the right places and leaving little to the imagination.

“Sweetheart,” Dean rasped, his voice thick with admiration and desire, “you’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

You stepped closer, your bare feet silent against the floor as you leaned over him, your hands finding their way back to his chest. “Not tonight, Winchester,” you murmured, your lips curving into a teasing smile as you pressed your palms to the solid planes of his body.

“Tonight, I’m going to take care of you.”

Dean’s heart thudded in anticipation, licking his lips as you once again climbed aboard, this time settling snuggly against his crotch. 

He moaned his approval as he realised you’d forgone underwear, the warmth of your slick heat seeped through onto his hardening cock. 

“Fuck.” He cursed at the sight of you. His hands instinctively running along the flesh of your thighs.

“Look at you, all tense again.” You tutted disapprovingly, your lips twitching into a sly smirk. You leaned over to the side of you again, making sure to grind your hips into him as you did. 

His responding moan sent a bolt of heat straight to your core, his hands tightening on your thighs just enough to leave a dull, thrilling ache. The unspoken tension crackled in the air, thick and heady. You shifted slightly, settling back into your previous position, pouring another generous amount of oil into your palm.

You never broke eye contact as you rubbed your hands together, warming the oil between them. The heat wasn’t just from the friction—it radiated between you, an unspoken promise that left your breaths shallow and synchronised.

Then, slowly, you pressed your palms to his chest, letting them glide over the firm, taut muscle beneath. The oil slicked his skin, making your movements smooth and deliberate as you traced the hard planes of his chest and shoulders.

Dean let out a deep, gravelly moan, the sound vibrating through your hands and sending shivers down your spine. His head tipped back slightly, eyes fluttering shut for a moment before they reopened, hazy and half-lidded. He stayed still, patient for once; his hands resting on your thighs, his grip firm but reverent as though grounding himself in the moment.

Your touch shifted between soft and purposeful, your fingers digging into the knots buried deep beneath his skin, ones he didn’t even realise he had in those places. When you reached more tender spots, your pressure softened, your hands moving with care.

All the while, Dean’s gaze was locked on you, flickering between your concentrated expression and the curves of your body. His eyes were dark with desire, but there was something more profound there—adoration, reverence. He was utterly captivated, wholly yours in every possible sense.

To him, you weren’t just beautiful; you were his safe haven, his sanctuary. Every touch of your hands, every gentle motion across his skin, reminded him of how much he was loved, how much he belonged to you.

His chest rose and fell beneath your palms, the rhythm steady but deep, a testament to how completely relaxed he was under your care. For a man who’d spent his life fighting, carrying the weight of the world, and never allowing himself to fully let go, this moment was a rarity.

His heart felt impossibly full, warmth flooding through him in waves. Watching you, feeling you, he was entirely at your mercy. And there was no other place he’d rather be.

His body was sinking again, your, almost professional, hands lulling him into a state of pure blissful relaxation. He’d almost forgot about the feel of your bare pussy, separated by only a thin piece of fabric, against him until you shifted back on your hunches. 

“Hmm.” You frown in though, your expression almost serious. “I think there’s still a part of you that’s not quite as relaxed as I’d have liked.” You punctuate with a role your hips.

Dean groans and drops his head back, his hands quickly finding your hips, feeling rather than guiding the grind of your pussy against his stiff cock. 

“Dammit.” He huffs, both amused and incredibly turned on. “You really are try’na kill me.” 

“I told you.” You smile as you slide off of him again, only to remove his boxers, which he’s happy oblige as you glide them down and off of his legs, dropping them unceremoniously to the floor. You climb back onto the bed, but this time settle between his spread thighs. “I’m going to take care of you.” 

With that you tenderly kiss along his inner thigh, suckling gently at his hip bone before repeating the action the other side. Dean gasps and gawks at you, his hips twitching upwards every time you get near to his aching length. 

Just as he’s about to beg you for more, he feels your lips seal around his leaking tip. He all but cries out. The slow torture of watching you touch his body with so much care and tenderness, all the while feeling the wetness between your legs soak through the front of his boxers, because of that. He’s about ready to burst. 

However, you take your time to suck and lick at the reddened tip, welcoming the salty tang of pre-cum on your tongue with an appreciative moan. Dean fists the sheets beneath him as you work him over with your mouth this time. The sensation is too much and not enough all at once, but again, before he can whine - because that’s what you have resorted him to - you engulf him into your mouth. 

It’s warm and wet and “oh so fucking good”, Dean thinks. You build a steady rhythm, taking him as far as you can go whilst your hand, which was still slick with oil, caresses his balls. 

Dean was a moaning babbling mess, his skin shining with a thin sheen of sweat, his chest heaving, back arching slightly as he fucked up into your mouth. You welcomed it with encouraging moans of your own, sucking him harder, deeper until he was shouting out his climax and spilling down your throat. 

You swallowed everything he gave you, softening your movements as you gently sucked him clean. He hissed at the sensitivity when you finally pulled away, his body going slack and weightless against the mattress. If his heart wasn’t beating so wildly, he was sure he could easily pass out. 

“Relaxed?” you murmured softly, settling against his side. Your hand moved in gentle, soothing strokes over the heated, flushed skin of his chest as he lay there, catching his breath and slowly returning from the blissful haze you’d pulled him into.

Dean let out a shaky chuckle, his chest still heaving slightly. “Holy shit,” he finally managed, turning his head to look at you. His green eyes shone with a mix of awe and disbelief, like he couldn’t quite process how someone could make him feel like that.

You smiled bashfully, your heart swelling with pride at his reaction. “Good?” you teased lightly, though your voice was warm and tender.

“Incredible,” he corrected, his tone reverent. “That was just… wow. I don’t even have words right now.” He let out another breathless laugh, and you couldn’t help but join him, the sound of your shared laughter filling the room with a lightness that made your chest ache.

When the laughter faded, you found yourselves locked in a quiet moment, your gazes tangling. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable; it was charged with the raw connection you both shared. Dean’s face was still painted with the glow of his post-orgasmic bliss, his features relaxed and open in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

Even as a dull ache thrummed between your own legs, you ignored it, content in the knowledge that tonight wasn’t about you. Tonight was for him.

One of his hands reached up to cup your cheek, his calloused thumb brushing tenderly over your flushed skin. The gesture was so intimate, so full of unspoken love, that it sent a shiver down your spine.

His gaze softened further, the warmth in his eyes making your chest tighten. “How the hell did I get so lucky?” he whispered, the words barely audible but carrying the weight of his sincerity.

You didn’t have a chance to respond before he leaned up slowly, his hand guiding you down to meet him. His lips pressed against yours in a kiss that was achingly slow and sensual, the kind of kiss that spoke volumes without needing words.

His lips moved against yours with deliberate tenderness, savouring every second of the connection. The kiss wasn’t rushed or demanding—it was deep, filled with raw emotion, gratitude, and an overwhelming love that poured from him into you.

You sighed softly against his mouth, your fingers threading through his hair as you melted into him, feeling like the entire world had narrowed down to just this moment, just him. However, things quickly began to heat up again.

The kiss grew more needy, more desperate. A new surge of wetness coated your thighs as Dean trailed his lips from your mouth, jaw and to your ear, nibbling on the sensitive lobe until you were a whimpering mess. 

He grabbed your thigh and lifted it to rest against his hip, pulling you flush against him as he did. You gasped in both surprise and pleasure at the feeling of his hardening length pressing against you. 

“Already?” You breathlessly asked, your tone laced with awe and giddiness. Dean hummed in acknowledgement against your neck as his lips sucked and nipped at your most sensitive spots. 

You tugged harshly at his hair as a hand slipped between your bodies, long, thick and callused digits pressing against your swollen clit. You cried out desperately as he began a slow circling motion, tiny shocks of pleasure jolting through your body with each sweep of his fingers. 

Just as you were building, that coil inside you winding tight, his fingers suddenly retracted and you were pushed onto your back. Dean hovered above you, his eyes dark and hooded as he gazed down at you. 

“You know. I have one criticism to make about to night.” Dean confessed and leaned down to peck your lips once, then your jaw, your neck, your collar bone. You frowned, confused but curious. 

“And what’s that.” You asked a little breathless at his ministrations, and he pulled his head back up to look at you again, a devilish twinkle in his eye. 

“My favourite flavour of pie.” He said almost nonchalant, before he slowly returned to kissing down your body, keeping his eyes on yours as he pulled down the top of your night dress, exposing your tit to him. 

Your mouth opened in a silent moan as he wrapped his lips around the sensitive bud and sucked, hard. You arched into his mouth, shivering at the pleasurable pulse travelling down between your legs. 

After lavishing both breasts with his talented mouth, he released you with a soft pop and looked at you again, gradually slipping down your body until his broad shoulders were forcing your legs to part to accommodate him. He slowly slid the hem of your dress up your waist, exposing your soaked pussy to him with a deep hunger in his eyes.

“You’ve always known my favourite is cherry.” He winked, licking his lips before diving in for a taste.

AN: This was so much fun to right. I wish Dean could have really been shown this much love on his birthday. 😭 As always let me know what you think and thank you for reading ❤️

Dean Winchester Tag List:

@bettystonewell , @lyarr24 , @nancymcl

[mayapapaya33]

Well, I haven't read the origins comic yet, so I'll take your word for that. Some of the comic stuff is a bit wibbly on canon so I'm not sure if I do take it as campaign canon really, but I'll just go with it for the purposes of this conversation. (The fact that she never once mentions being run out of town by Yeza in the campaign makes that a little weird but sure ok. It also feels a little retconny to brush over her major fear that her family would reject her even if they DID know it was her under the curse, which was what was implied to be a big reason she stayed away in the campaign, in favor of it being because they DID chase her away based purely on what she looked like before she could say anything. It feels...strange. I'm not sure how I feel about it, I'll have to think about it. It just feels like after the fact justification of her staying away from them to me, but oh well. LET WOMEN BE FLAWED 2025! lol I am eventually going to get my hands on all of the origins comics, I just haven't done so yet.)

My point wasn't really a moral argument about Veth and Lilliana having done equally bad things in the world, obviously that's not true. I could have said It better, but I guess I just thought that was obvious and I was tired? lol, silly me. So to make it clearer: Veth is a hero who helped save the world, and Liliana fell in with a cult and did terrible things under the woefully misguided belief she was doing the right thing. I'm more saying I could see Veth turning out like Liliana if things went differently and their initial act of abandonment is fundamentally similar. Also, it's not just the hag thing btw, that was just the most obvious and memorable example I could reference and know everyone would know what I was talking about without writing a 5 page essay and hunting down obscure time stamps lol.

Another example was her stance in that discussion about justice and vengeance from ep 98 (26:26) with Caduceus. Cad basically said: Hey, going after criminals in the Empire sounds great if you can be smart about it, but if you're just doing it to make yourself feel better, I don't really see the point of that, so maybe don't because you'll probably restart the war if you aren't extremely careful. And Veth's response was very understandable from her characters pov, but makes me think that, yeah, in the right circumstances, she'll do what she wants, when she wants, and damn the consequences and it won't be about justice, it'll be about making herself feel good and she'll find the internal justification she needs to. "You can stand by -You can just watch bad people get away with it?" If the price of stopping one bad person is reigniting a WAR, um yeah, I can Veth. He's basically saying, don't cause more problems than you are going to fix by your actions, and interrogate your motivations and she wasn't having it. I think he might have gotten through to her in the end but I'm not sure because they "dissolved" using mouth sounds and hand waving into the next scene of Jester finding Marion.

There are many things that make me think this about her. Anger and desperation can cause people to make poor decisions. (I think you might have misconstrued the one bit where I was debating whether letting your family think you were dead and staying gone or just saying goodbye and abandoning them was actually worse or not, I personally vote dead being worse but I'm genuinely not sure, like I said. So, in that one aspect I think Veth's worse, but not for everything lol. The misguided hope left behind from what Liliana did might be worse.)

My point was that they both abandoned their families in order to solve a problem. Yes, Liliana left "voluntarily" right from the start in the sense that she wasn't kidnapped by goblins and transformed against her will, her "against her will change" was foisted upon her by a God Eater trapped in moon jail instead. She was essentially kidnapped by her own powers, she couldn't control them and needed to figure out what they were and how to deal with them. So yes, it was a choice for her to leave as you so aptly pointed out, just not quite as voluntary a choice as people keep presenting it as. I suppose it's more accurate for me to say it was Liliana's choice to leave, and Veth's choice to STAY gone (yes, even with the addition of the comic lore).

Don't you remember early campaign Imogen constantly having to be careful and worried about her telepathy? How it hurt her to be in large crowds? How her town DID treat her like garbage, like a pariah, "like an outright monster" even. It's not like Liliana left for fun. She was scared she was going to hurt someone if she didn't learn how to control herself, and worried that Imogen would develop those powers too. (That was her initial reasoning, and then things devolved of course). You said it yourself; The Grim Verity was taking too long, and she wanted to go home so she fell in with Ludinus and co because he promised answers and a solution.

Veth's initial separation from her family OBVIOUSLY wasn't her fault, and apparently in the comics she tried to go home and was run off for looking like a goblin. Well, that truly sucks for Comic Book Veth and she has my sympathy. There are still a variety of things she could have done, including once she befriended Caleb enough where she trusted him, have him go to Yeza in person and explain the curse and everything while she hid at the outskirts of town. She could have told Caleb a bunch of things only Veth would know to help convince Yeza, Etc.

At a certain point, Veth's Choice to stay away from her family was just as voluntary as Liliana's. She could have tried (or tried again if comics are canon) at any time, and she didn't. The problem wasn't solved so they "couldn't" go home and then events spiraled. Again, they aren't the same, I just think their situations parallel each other interestingly. Becoming "not a goblin" was not the only way for Veth to reunite with her family. It's perfectly understandable that she thought that it was considering all of her trauma and her shame and her fear, but that doesn't make it true. It was still an active choice that she made to not try to reunite with her family until she looked "normal" again, even once her circumstances had changed and she could have had help. She didn't try because she didn't want her family seeing her like that and because she was scared of what they would think. (Again, very understandable, but still a choice). What if Caleb couldn't find a way to change her back into a halfling? Would she never have gone home, continuing to look for a solution?

Liliana "couldn't" go home until she understood and could control her powers, a reasonable yet tragic decision, which then spiraled into it being that she "couldn't" go home until she helped "save" the world from the tyranny of the Gods, etc. Somewhat less reasonable I think you'll agree. How long does Veth's decision to not try (or not try again) to reunite with her family until she's no longer a goblin remain reasonable? One year? Five years? Ten years? It was a combination of luck and hard work that got her a new body as relatively fast as she did. Caleb and Essek meeting and becoming magic bffs might never have happened without Caleb's "I'm never going back to jail" moment in the Bright Queen's throne room for example lol.

More than all of that though, I'm not a huge fan of Veth's parenting while she IS present in Luc's life but seeing as Liliana hasn't really been present in Imogen's life for more than like a month, that's about where any parallels or comparisons stop lmfao. A lot of Veth's bad parenting once she's back in Luc's life is also due to the fact that Sam Riegel is a comedian first and an actor second so if he sees an opportunity to be funny, he'll pounce. Which unfortunately for poor Veth, does mean that if you look at her with a sober eye she comes across as a dreadful parent. Hilarious of course, but I did end up feeling bad for Yeza whenever I saw him futilely trying to be responsible whenever the M9 came trampling through their lives being bad influences. Honestly, she wonders why teenage Luc is like that! I learned it from watching you mom!

If the Good Moms of Critical Role ever learn about the shit Liliana's pulled it's on sight 😤

[cokoweee]

There are a few things that I really liked about this “nothing” update. (But also as a writer, I love these “small, mundane moments”) So something about this expression, I don’t know if I can google it, but it feels like a Donnie expression from the series. He’s annoyed, he’s mentally and physically exhausted, but he knows he has to check on her. He needs to make sure that Kendra is okay, before the alcohol erases everything.

And moving forward, the expressions in here are delectable! Donnie’s awkwardness, irritation, and concern are cracking through the big ass wall he’s built around himself. No longer is he fronting blank or angry expressions, he’s really being open, and I love, love, love how we can really see how he’s feeling about her.

Also this paneling! I envy you! (I’m still figuring that out myself) It could be one big panel, but I love how you split it in half to give focus on Kendra’s admittance, and Donnie’s hand shaking. Last update he was lambasting himself on why he wasn’t more angry at being kissed without consent. Here he is considering that with Kendra it would be different, and here she is saying she drunk herself into a stupor so she could forget the night. Though to be fair, I feel like Kendra is trying to remember the eldritch horror that is Big Mama more than anything.

And then… a little vulnerability. Donnie tells her that if she had decided to kiss him, without Big Mama’s coercion, not only would he not have minded, he would want her to remember that they shared that moment. It’s not a full confession, but it’s definitely not a “kissing you is not the worst thing, in fact, I would have welcomed it.” And considering everything, that is a big deal to Donnie, especially since he tried to back track immediately. But that caught Kendra’s attention!

And poor Donnie, holding his tail for sensory comfort again, having said his piece.

And Kendra looks back at him… so yeah, she does go inside after him. It’s a little hard to place her thoughts, but she is tired, drunk, and maybe has a shift in perspective. But she is still likely forgetting in the morning…

But also, knowing you do like visual foreshadowing and theming… I’m a little worried about the cigarette in the blood image… What are you planning?!

(Side note, it completely glossed over my mind that Donnie’s markings were covered up last few updates, despite you telling us that was what the goop was for…but that was so sweet that Kendra wiped them off, I died)

Expressions! I never know them but I do make them when I draw! No mirror though so it’s solely based on how the emotion feels on the face.

Paneling! I honestly just imagine a movie camera and how it moves. Using panels to emphasize what I want you guys to see but pretty sure everyone thinks like that ahevrhwjd

Drawing Donnie more expressive is fun. Haven’t done it in a long while whehahehe and as for your last question…

>:)

[sysig]

Coding woes (Patreon)

[13thdoodle]

bunch of Phantasy AU doodles n wip from earlier this year

Basically I just found out this year that ball-jointed dolls actually have strings in them and not just... magically attached by the ball joints themselves? And 31 in this AU is a ball jointed doll that were made out of Danny's energy so here we are :3c

I've been watching a lot of doll customization since earlier this year and found out from dollightful's video that no they are all connected by elastic strings inside so that's where the idea came from

...i was looking on google to find a good example to put here and clearly I'm not exactly paying attention to how the main body strings are actually.. pinned to?

the video I've been watching the most is dollightful n moonlight jewel and they have their bjd usually only to the bottom of the doll head instead of all the way to the top on the skull pin like the diagram above

Which is why 31 has his strings all connected to the 'heart' in the middle instead of the head kasjdnkasjnd

But yeah uhhh specifics aside...

----

Those ball jointed dolls made me think of 31, and then thinking about the clones in Phantasy AU and like.. the logistic of it

for 31, the idea is that during the circus gothica arc for this AU, Danny actually got kidnapped all the whole way into another universe/plane in which he met Valeska (Enn's oc) who unalive what his face the circus leader n break Danny's hypnosis

and now that Danny is essentially stuck in a whole other plane/realm/or sth he just following Valeska hoping she'll help him find his way back.

In one such trip, Danny got kidnapped (again) by another group/cult who wanted to use his power/energy as a gate keeper to the ghost zone to make their own gate keeper so they can open portals to ghost zones and maybe other realms too

31 is part of the experiments. He's a doll made with part of Danny's energy as his core.

And then it's.. uhh.. sth sth Valeska finally found out where they kept Danny and devour everyone there safe from Danny n 31 who helped him escape so now the three of them travel together~

The last pict is me thinking about clones and kingdom hearts :tm: so dramatic about Danny being the soul separated from the main body and 31 a clone made from part of the soul too and all that Not sure where I'm going with that but it do sound cool

And there's also Danielle but I'm not exactly sure.. how she would fit in? but it would be interesting if she was made from Danny's body somehow

so 31 made from part of teh soul and Dani from part of the body sounds poetic somehow

[magiclwritings]

Cass' gaze drifted from where Apollo had stood to where he had disappeared to. It had been a long time since the two of them had a go about anything but it was about to happen whether any of them liked it or not. He usually kept his opinions to himself where it concerned Apollo because he'd understood at his core that things hadn't been easy for him especially and that he was adjusting that would take a lifetime of work to undo but fuck that. He was quick to lay the little boy down on the sofa opposite Isaac but not before he made sure to deliver a look to rival that of a god in fury at the man quietly sitting there.

Isaac didn't say a word. He was at a loss for what to do. It was his fault Apollo found himself in such a frenzy and everything was so disjointed. He could hardly blame Oliver and Cassio for being so apprehensive and stand-offish. He'd been an asshole and in-turn had corrupted Apollo to a point he wasn't sure he could pull him back from. What was he to do? Call his parents and beg for help? They'd laugh and insist he figure it out. After all, what had all their teachings been for in the first place? They'd warned against anything outside of their small hoard for this reason. Isaac angrily ground the ingredients and only then did he feel the look from across the room. His eyes simply raised and he took in a snarling blond that had ever right in the world to wring his neck at that moment.

"I'm going to fix this." Cass said very plainly and quietly. His rage was hardly something to be feared but he was pissed. More pissed than he'd been in a while and he was over whatever this rift was. "Whatever Oliver told you to do with that then do it." Cass shifted around, pulling his wand from his waist band and he snuck one last look at the sleeping child. His cheeks were so pink and his little curls just fell on his face so perfectly it hard not to see Apollo in him at that moment. "This thing between you and I is done. And whatever you did to him." He gestured towards the basement door with his wand. "I'd better never catch you doing it again. He is my friend. Will always be my friend and I respect your relationship a hell of a lot more than you respect ours." If he could have compared this feeling to anything it would have ben to when Curr's fur was completely on end and eyes were as wide as saucers. Cass had had enough. Between this and the deal he and Apollo had struck with their 'bosses', there wasn't room for this jealousy. They had to figure this out and they had to do it before it was too late. Before Isaac and Oliver find out what we've gotten ourselves into. Again.

Isaac simply nodded. What else was he going to do? Cassio had a point. He'd put them in a bad spot and he nodded. "Go. I'll keep a' eye up he'e." Cass didn't nod or acknowledge or thank him in any way but instead opened the door to the basement, only to hear Oliver and Apollo already talking in tones he didn't like. "Fuck." His wand was out but at his thigh as he walked down the steps as quietly as he could manage. Oliver's face was the only one he'd seen, Apollo's back was to him but he held his hand up signaling for Oliver to not acknowledge him. What the fuck is he doing?

Cass felt himself edging more and more behind Oliver as the moments ticked by. Apollo was out of his mind and all he wanted to do was run. There was something seriously wrong with all of this. He could have accepted the kid and that mess on it's own but for Apollo to be using something so dear to them like that? He wasn't sure what the hell was going on but it had to get figured out and it had to get figured out now. He smiled down at the boy in his arms. Whatever was going on he just wanted to make sure that he got out of this. The more and more Cass thought about it, the more it seemed they were being punished for something. That was the only rational way he could figure this in his head. It had to be something he and Apollo had done.

Isaac gaze drifted from his work to the sight of their hands clasped together. He could feel the heat radiating through Apollo's palm and he looked at him then, concerned that he was looking so out of it still. Granted there had never really been a guideline for his magic but this seemed ... well, he was pretty pissed when all of that went down. He chewed on his lower lip for a moment and slowly pulled his hand free from Apollo's grasp. He even went as far as scoot his leg off of Apollo's in that instance. And then his gaze drifted towards Cass but his focus was not on the blond but rather who was in his arms. What was happening now was his fault, they could have already had a lead and Isaac took that from him.

"Cass an' I will wo'k o' our differences la'a." He spoke softly but matter of factly. Something told him from the look Cass was giving him in that moment that they would indeed be speaking later. That was fair. Isaac owed him a few apologies for the years of cold shoulder he'd often served to him. "Yeah ... later sounds good, Isaac." He bowed his head, more grateful than he could even express in that moment. "Why don' ya go get the chalk." He offered, turning back to look at Apollo. Isaac needed to explain a few things to these two if he could get a moment. "We already pu' this off fo' too lon'. Poo' Oliva will be loo'in all ova." Isaac gave him the biggest smile, whatever Orion had told him to do, Isaac was quite certain they could make work with Oliver and just themselves if it came down to it. What mattered now was that little boy in the arms of Cassio.

"Please my lo'e. We can' be wastin' mo' time." He realized how hypocritical that was but they had to get moving. Apollo had to just work through the magic in his system. It would stop .... eventually.

[dynmghts]

@keshimasu / villain au starter.

a lot of things happened in rapid succession. clearing the final exam and earning his way to the summer camp. travelling there and fighting waves of foes made by pixie-bob's quirk. settling in and working to enhance his quirk, right until nightfall, where they're given the task of traversing through the forest and enduring class b's spooky antics... even to the alarm sounding that villains were there. and not only that: they were there for him.

the last thing he expects is to see his homeroom teacher, the man he's trusted to help him learn and grow as a budding pro hero, among their ranks.

it's a bitter feeling. like venom sitting at the tip of canines, ready to sink into flesh with newfound hatred and disgust, to thrash and tear through skin as a personal vendetta builds. it's bile at the back of his throat and a churning feeling in stomach. he had intentions to throw him under the bus when he got out of there - but ah, he never got out of the league's sharp grip.

they hadn't made an executive decision on what to do with him, now that their merry little leader got his ass kicked by all might and dragged into custody. katsuki despises that his quirk is hindered by metal, and whatever the hell the doctor's been concocting in his freaky-ass medical horror corner - there's no window.

so katsuki directs his energy to the person he's most angry with.

❛ you fuckin' asshole, ❜ he spits out. venom drips in tandem to his emphasised words, glare rivalling that of a sun, blinding and dangerous and burning. he writhes in his restraints. lunges. ❛ you knew it was gonna happen, didn't you? you lead 'em to us too? put everyone in danger 'cause you're a part of their merry band of fuckin' inconsiderate, two-time, b-lister- ❜

teeth clench shut for a moment when he feels eyes boring into him. glare quickly redirects to the other person infringing on their space, and though it doesn't seem to deter them away any faster, he likes to think so, with how they stride through the space with a new level of efficiency.

lethality on features turn from the offending extra to aizawa once more. ❛ didja tell 'em i was gonna be the easy target too? huh? they pissed you got your prediction wrong, sensei? ❜

[rosicheeks]

😓🤬

[dexaroth]

ive already said this before about how ive felt so disconnected from art. its all just lines and poses and specific distances away from the camera, layers of color... something triggered a switch in my brain that is making things just not feel real anymore.

and its like. ok. whatever. its still fun to draw and i get very happy when i manage to draw something good. but i lack the motivation! so.. lemme think.. ah! my characters! perhaps i should try to actually flesh them out as real people, with a past and personalities and relationships..

and the more i read about it the more disconnected i feel. is that all life is about? traits and backstories and being bound to everything that happened to you.. the ways you think and act being somewhat easily traceable to your history..character arcs. stories just being a means to an end(?)

and i also want a world for my ocs to live in that is a bit believable and justifies them, but every bit of advice and apparently common worldbuilding things have all just been done before.

is there any chance of making something that matters when its all been done before or if everything else feels unreal and abstract. is there a point to anything

[kuiinncedes]

bro