#and then all the energy would be released into that

[h4m1lt0ns]

HEARTBREAK SYNDROME.

episode sixteen :: BABY DEER

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ pairing ︴various drivers x y/n

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ genre ︴social media au / irl snippets

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ summary ﹔y/n finally takes a well deserved break, but leaves everyone with one last song for the year.

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ face claim ﹔ wonyoung jang (28)

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ warnings ﹕ cussing, light angst, none.

t

☆ IMESSAGE with ; BOARD OF DIRECTORS

babygirl alex: wait

babygirl alex: so to summarise what this 3 hour zoom meeting

babygirl alex: HE’S upset because you asked a rational question and decided to push YOU away????

y/n: basically yeah

honey badger: lewis hamilton.

honey badger: lewis hamilton when i catch you

my baby lando: when i fucking catch you lewis hamilton

chal eclair: wtf is his problem

yukino: no like why

PIERRE GASLYYYY: what would push him to even think like this

girlfriend kika: one thing a man will have is the god damn audacity 😒

angel carmen: amen

princess george: exactly

chili!: genuinely what was the reason

papaya baby #2: y/n are you okay?

y/n: no

y/n: that actually fucking hurt me

babygirl alex: my poor baby 💔☹️

my baby lando: it’s on sight when i see him istg.

angel carmen: do you want us to come over? alex and i are close by

y/n: no, it’s okay, thank you tho

y/n: i’m meeting up with seb later, gonna talk to him

y/n: i’m busy for the rest of the week, i have grammy rehearsals so i’ll be in the US

albono: yeah, it’s probably best if you stay out of monaco for a bit

chili!: ^^^

chal eclair: yeah, but we’re always here when you need us

y/n: i know, and i love you guys

y/n

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y/n what a year. can’t say it was amazing, nor can i say that it was awful. it was a learning experience to be fully honest. major lows and phenomenal highs, different places, different people, so much seen and heard. this year genuinely re-wired my brain. and to end it with six grammys, i couldn’t be more thankful 💕 i’ve said this so many times, and i mean it more and more each time, thank you —truly, humbly, and from the depths of my heart. for everything. for the love, the support, the messages, the energy, for every time you showed up, for everything you did and every word you said 🫀🫂 i’m so grateful to have all of you by my side, to know that all of you will always have my back 💌 i’m sending you nothing but love and light, and i’m wishing you growth and warmth as we enter this next year. i love you. always. forever. ♾️🤍 very deerly 🦌

tagged: sebastianvettel

the comments have been disabled.

y/n and y/l/nestate

♡ liked by alexandrasaintmleux, carmenmmundt, and 5,204,104 others.

y/l/nestate and for her last trick, y/n secretly worked on a new song over grammy weekend. just one last song for the last month of the year. the newest single “baby deer” comes out at 12:00 am EST, december 1st. set your alarms 🤍🦌🪽. have a well deserved break our deerest y/n <3

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username and the crowd… the crowd burst into tears???

username you ain’t had to release this one brochacho 💔

username “SHE’S HAPPY! SHE’S NOT HEARTBROKEN AGAIN!” i scream as they drag me back to the padded room 😞

username ho did you just stab me

username “but i adore than man, like nobody can, he moves mountains and pounds them to ground again” hey so like, stand up maybe????

username me when i play the song of fucking pure heartbreak

username DIVA DOWN!!!!!! I REPEAT. DIVA DOWN!!!!!!!

username name dropping seb is crazy btw

alexandrasaintmleux 🫂🤍🫂🤍🫂🤍

username WHY ARE WE BACK TO SAD SONGS AGAIN

username hey so how about we not do this 😀

username i just started crying i dont even know why 😭😭

username wait sO WHO IS THIS ABOUT?????

→ username HAS to be lewis. HAAAAS TO BE.

→ username it’s abt m4x i fear

→ username there’s no way she’s still singing about max

→ username deadass this could be about any of the dilfs lowkey

username WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS ME TO ME 💔💔💔

username where does she keep finding these villains oh my god

username may this kind of situationship never find me

charles_leclerc 🦌🦌🦌❤️❤️❤️

username shaking ass to c,s&a then this comes on shuffle 😞

username 💔💔💔💔💔💔WHY💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

sebastianvettel 💐💐💐

→ username wHAT DO YOU KNOW

→ username TALK HOE

username guys i think we know who the perpetrator is ☹️

→ username right. bc who else has bambi eyes

→ username i’m gonna have to turn a blind eye bc i ship them hard

username she said i watch “my” baby deer. dear god why. 🫩

username NAME DROPPING SEBASTIAN?? wtf does he know

username i’m glad she’s on break bc this is getting out of hand

→ username i’m gonna hold ur hand when i say this.. it’s time to stop dating for a while 🫱🏽‍🫲🏼🫱🏽‍🫲🏼🫱🏽‍🫲🏼

→ y/n you’re probably right

→ username OH?

→ username UHMMMMMMM.

mercedesamgf1 and y/l/nestate

♡ liked by alexandrasaintmleux, carmenmmundt, and 4,204,104 others.

marcedesamgf1 Y/n Y/l/n has decided not to renew her contract as the ambassador for the Mercedes AMG Formula One team for the 2025 season. More on our website.

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[yukkiji]

betting on you

blue lock masterlist. leave a little stardust on my ko-fi

starring. michael kaiser x fem!reader

genre: fluff, romance, suggestive, enemies to lovers-ish

wc: 5k

author's note: idk why the hell i've been thinking about kaiser lately but ig this a bit self indulgent so i hope you enjoy hehe (i'm also thinking about making a part 2 of this that's a bit hehe)

it all started with a bet.

it wasn't just any bet with someone.

it was with michael kaiser, the notorious golden striker of bastard münchen. the guy whose ego was as massive as his talent, whose smirk could disarm crowds and whose confidence filled every room he walked into. and now, he was looking at you like you were his next challenge.

you were the newest intern on the pr team, fresh into the whirlwind that was managing blue lock’s chaos. they’d warned you, over and over, that this job wasn’t just about one team. no, you were in charge of all five — barcha’s flashy social media blitz, ubers’ tight-lipped press demands, pxg’s controlled chaos, manshine’s risky rebranding campaigns, and of course…

kaiser.

you hadn’t even gotten your desk properly set up when he found you, slipping in with that cocky grin that made your skin prickle.

“let me guess,” you said, already tired of his smug attitude, “you think i’m just another girl who’s going to fall for the star striker?”

he cocked an eyebrow, like you amused him. “no. i know you’re not just another girl. that’s why i made it interesting.”

you crossed your arms, keeping your voice steady despite the way your heart beat faster. “i don’t have time for games.”

his eyes glinted with challenge. “then try to keep up, liebling [darling].”

he leaned in, his voice dropping to that infuriatingly smooth tone that made you want to punch him and laugh at the same time.

“winner gets bragging rights. first to fall in love loses.”

you swallowed the lump forming in your throat, fought the impulse to smile, and looked away. this was going to be a battle — and somehow, you already knew it wouldn’t be so easy to win.

you quickly learned that being the newest intern on the blue lock pr team meant diving headfirst into chaos — and managing more than just one team was a lesson in controlled madness. each squad had its own personality, its own challenges.

barcha, being the loudest with bachira over there has their flashy social media content demanded constant attention. their fans craved excitement, and your phone buzzed non-stop with requests for new posts, player interviews, and viral clips. managing their image was like trying to hold a firework show in a hurricane.

ubers took the opposite approach — stoic and serious, their press demands tight and unforgiving. every word had to be measured, every statement vetted carefully. no room for mistakes. you’d spend hours drafting and redrafting press releases, balancing professionalism with a hint of warmth.

pxg? pure chaos. their locker room was a storm of personalities and egos, and your job was to make sure none of that spilled into the media. sometimes you felt like a juggler with too many balls in the air, praying none of them would drop.

manshine was in the middle of a rebranding campaign, trying to reinvent themselves. the pressure was on to make their image sleek, modern, and appealing — but with a hint of mystery. that meant tight deadlines, surprise meetings, and frantic brainstorming sessions.

and then there was bastard münchen.

the team that was as much a force of nature as they were a soccer club — rough around the edges, fiercely competitive, and infamous for their wild energy both on and off the pitch. the media loved to paint them as rebels, the “bad boys” of blue lock, and you quickly understood why.

and within those bastards was michael kaiser — their golden striker, the guy who refused to play by anyone’s rules but his own. his ego was as massive as his talent, his confidence filling every room he walked into, his smirk disarming crowds and teammates alike. he was the heart of the team’s chaos and charisma all at once.

kaiser was impossible to ignore. the moment he entered a room, his presence took over. and somehow, he always found you. calling you “liebling [darling] ” or “kätzchen [kitten] ” with a wink, like it was a game — and you were the prize.

one afternoon, you were coordinating a complicated press shoot for barcha’s latest campaign. cameras flashed, stylists fussed, and players posed with practiced ease — but you were focused on the schedule, clipboard in hand, barking out orders to keep everything on track.

kaiser appeared at your side, his voice a low murmur meant only for you. “you’re too serious, kätzchen. you need to lighten up.”

you glanced at him, arching an eyebrow but resisting the urge to laugh. “someone has to keep you in line, micha.”

he chuckled, that deep laugh that made your heart skip just a little. “maybe. or maybe i just like the way you challenge me.”

you rolled your eyes but the smile you couldn’t hide betrayed you. it was dangerous, this back-and-forth. the way he could make a simple phrase sound like a promise.

later that week, as you were helping ubers with a press conference, you found yourself surrounded by players from other teams, answering questions, sharing laughs, and juggling requests. it was a lot, but you liked the challenge.

kaiser wasn’t far off, watching from a distance, a flicker in his eyes that you didn’t catch right away. then he came over, sliding in beside you with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“so, liebling,” he said, voice teasing but edged with something sharper, “you seem very interested in what pxg’s star forward just said.”

you glanced at the player, a tall, charismatic guy who was mid-story, and back to kaiser, who was watching you like a hawk.

“he was just telling me about their new training routine. it’s relevant for the press coverage.”

“hm,” kaiser hummed, “interesting. but not as interesting as me, right?”

you smirked. “don’t flatter yourself.”

kaiser leaned closer, lowering his voice. “i don’t flatter, kätzchen. i know.”

there was a brief silence between you, charged and electric.

“you’re jealous,” you said softly, amused.

his smirk twisted into something almost vulnerable. “maybe. or maybe i just don’t like sharing the spotlight.”

you nudged him playfully. “micha, it’s not a competition. you know that.”

“maybe not,” he said, eyes locking on yours. “but i don’t plan on losing.”

you laughed, but your heart was pounding. beneath the teasing and bravado, something real was brewing, a challenge neither of you expected, and neither were quite ready to admit.

and with kaiser, every moment felt like the start of something that could never be just a game.

there were also some moments when kaiser would suddenly show up in your office unannounced just to tease the hell out of you, like right now.

you were buried in a pile of press releases and social media schedules, fingers flying over your keyboard, when the door creaked open.

there he was—micha, smirking like he owned the place, leaning against the doorframe with all the casual arrogance he could muster.

“working hard, liebling?” he drawled, voice dripping with playful mockery.

you groaned, rubbing your temples. “micha, what are you doing here? i have a million things to do.”

he stepped inside, closing the door behind him like it was a stage curtain dropping. “just thought i’d remind you who’s winning our little bet.”

you didn’t look up. “you’re dreaming.”

he moved closer, too close, until you could feel his warmth right behind you. one hand brushed your shoulder, fingers tracing slow, teasing circles. “maybe, but i like my odds.”

you finally glanced over your shoulder, catching his mischievous grin. “stop it.”

“stop what?” he whispered, leaning in so his breath tickled your ear, “making you fall for me?”

your breath hitched. you twisted in your chair, just enough to meet his eyes. “micha…”

he pressed a light kiss to your cheek, just below your ear, before stepping back with a victorious smirk. “see? easy to fall, liebling.”

you rolled your eyes, but the flush creeping up your neck betrayed you. “you’re impossible.”

“and you love it.” he winked, heading for the door. “don’t work too hard — i might have to come back for another visit.”

there were also times when kaiser would secretly pull you into the locker room after practice, using the excuse of needing a quick word about the upcoming press schedule.

the door clicked softly behind you, shutting out the distant echoes of the players wrapping up. the air inside was cooler, tinged with the faint scent of sweat and leather. the usual bustle of the stadium faded away, replaced by a charged quiet that made your skin tingle.

kiser didn’t say much at first. instead, he stepped close, his presence overwhelming in the tight space. you could feel the heat radiating off him, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath his shirt.

“liebling,” he murmured, voice low and rough, “how long are you going to keep pretending you don’t feel this?”

before you could answer, his hand found the small of your back, steadying you. his lips followed a slow path down your neck, soft and deliberate, brushing against your skin like a promise. a shiver ran through you, his warm breath fanning over the sensitive spot just below your ear.

your heart hammered in your chest, caught between shock and something deeper — a pull you couldn’t resist. your fingers curled into the back of his shirt, anchoring yourself as he deepened the kiss on your neck, just for a moment, teasing but full of intent.

he pulled back slightly, eyes dark and searching. “i’m winning this, kätzchen.” he whispered, voice thick with something almost tender.

the tension between you wasn’t just a game anymore. it was raw, dangerous, and beautiful—a line you both danced around but neither dared cross completely.

and in that quiet locker room, away from the crowds and cameras, the bet faded into the background, replaced by something real that neither of you could ignore.

kaiser may have the tendency to tease you and make you frustrated most of the time, but there were also moments when he’d tone it all down. moments that caught you off guard, when the sharp edges of his teasing softened into something quietly caring, almost tender.

like that late afternoon when you were buried under a mountain of work, your eyes heavy and barely staying open at your desk. the office was quiet, the hum of the city outside fading into a soft background noise. your head dipped lower, and you fought the pull of exhaustion.

you didn’t notice when the door opened quietly behind you, footsteps soft but deliberate.

then, you felt it, the weight of his jacket slipping gently over your shoulders, the fabric warm and familiar, shielding you from the chill creeping into the room.

you blinked up, surprised to see micha standing there with a small coffee cup in hand, his usual smirk softened into something almost protective.

“for you, liebling,” he murmured, voice low and sincere.

you let out a tired laugh. “what, you worried about me now?”

he shrugged, but the spark in his eyes was different. “someone’s gotta keep you from killing yourself with work.”

you wanted to protest, but before you could, he pulled out the couch nearby and sat down. “come here,” he commanded softly.

you hesitated, but exhaustion won. you eased down beside him, barely able to keep your eyes open.

without missing a beat, he gently pulled you into his lap, careful as if you were fragile. your head found its place against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear.

“you’re not getting enough sleep, meine liebe” he said quietly, fingers threading through your hair, soothing and slow.

“i’m fine,” you murmured, but your voice was thick with tiredness.

he pressed a kiss to your temple. “no, you’re not. and i’m not letting you work yourself into the ground.”

in that moment, the teasing faded away, replaced by a quiet warmth that made your chest ache in the best way.

“micha,” you whispered, voice barely audible, “you’re impossible.”

he chuckled softly, lips brushing against your hairline. “i'm aware”

you closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the rare peace he offered — a soft, stolen moment away from the noise and the bet, where just being close was enough.

as you rested against him, kaiser’s fingers gently tracing slow patterns in your hair, he muttered something under his breath — almost too soft to hear.

he pulled back just a bit, eyes flicking down to you, voice low and hesitant, “maybe... i’m losing the bet.”

you blinked, but you didn’t catch what he said. maybe it was just your tired mind playing tricks.

“what was that, micha?” you asked, half-smiling, but he just shook his head with that signature smirk, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face.

“nothing, liebling. just thinking out loud.”

kaiser was sure he was losing the bet. how could he not be? every time you showed up at his games, standing just beyond the sidelines or leaning casually against the press area, something inside him shifted. suddenly, he wasn’t just playing for the team or the fans anymore—he was playing to impress you.

he caught himself pushing harder, sprinting faster, weaving through defenders with a flair he usually kept tucked away. his smirk after every goal wasn’t just for the crowd, it was for you.

“why else would i care so much, liebling?” he muttered one evening, half to himself, half to the empty office as he slumped into his chair.

he knew the answer, even if he tried to deny it. this wasn’t just a game anymore. it was something more, something he wasn’t ready to admit, but couldn’t hide. and deep down, that terrified him.

yet, whenever you smiled his way, or called him “micha” with that tired, knowing grin, he felt something fierce and stubborn flare inside him.

he was falling, fast and hard, and damn if he wasn’t going to enjoy every moment, even if it meant losing the bet.

you started noticing it—the little things. kaiser’s teasing never stopped, but there was something different now. beneath the sharp banter and playful jabs, you felt the weight of something real, something genuine.

like the way his smirk lingered a moment longer when you caught his eye. or how, after a joke that usually made you roll your eyes, he’d catch your reaction and soften it with a quick, almost shy glance.

one afternoon, you were wrapping up a press release for manshine when micha popped into your office unannounced, as usual. “schatz,” he drawled, leaning casually against the doorframe, that trademark smirk in place. “working late again?”

“obviously,” you shot back, already expecting the teasing.

he pushed off the wall and stepped closer, voice dropping a notch. “you know, if you keep burning the candle at both ends, i might just have to drag you away from your desk.”

you raised an eyebrow. “oh really? and how would you do that?”

without missing a beat, he grabbed your wrist and tugged you up, pulling you into a mock struggle before settling you down on the couch. “just like this.”

you laughed, trying to squirm away, but there was a softness in his eyes that made you pause. “micha…”

he brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear and his grin softened into something warmer. “i’m serious, liebling. you’re not invincible.”

it struck you then, his teasing was still there, but it was laced with care, with concern.

and as you leaned into him, feeling the easy tension between you, you realized maybe kaiser’s game wasn’t just a bet anymore. maybe, just maybe, it was something more.

it’s a random thursday when it happens.

the media shoot for bastard münchen runs late, and the rest of the team’s already long gone by the time you and kaiser are left in the pr office. the lights are dimmed, just the glow from your laptop and the faint hum of your playlist filling the quiet.

you’re kneeling near the storage shelf, sorting through camera gear and tangled mic wires, too tired to care about how stiff your blazer’s gotten from wearing it all day. behind you, kaiser leans against the doorway, arms crossed, blue eyes sharp and unreadable.

it’s one of those moments, the ones where he shows up unannounced, just to tease the hell out of you. he always has a smug quip, always something to say. but tonight, he’s unusually quiet.

you glance back over your shoulder. “you good?”

his gaze flickers across your face like he’s memorizing every inch. and then, casually, like he’s commenting on the weather —

“i think i’m in love with you.”

you freeze.

your hands go still on the cables, your breath catches just enough to betray you.

there’s a long pause.

too long.

too quiet.

he sees your reaction—the way your spine straightens, the way your fingers tighten slightly around the gear—and immediately, panic flickers in his expression. his smirk reappears, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“kidding,” he says, tone light. too light. “obviously. still part of the bet. you’re almost there, right?”

you turn back to the equipment, force your voice to stay steady. “right.”

you don’t look at him. don’t let him see the hurt that blooms sharp in your chest like a bruise spreading under your ribs.

because you really thought… maybe it was real.

and maybe, that was your mistake.

you finish organizing the last mic, carefully winding the cord like your hands aren’t trembling slightly. behind you, kaiser shifts, but doesn’t say anything else. the air feels colder now, like whatever fragile warmth had existed between you had slipped out with his words.

what you don’t see—what you don’t know—is that kaiser had meant every damn word.

it wasn’t a line. it wasn’t part of the bet.

he’d said it without thinking, with the kind of quiet honesty that scares even him. and the moment he saw how still you went, how surprised you looked… fear kicked in.

he’s never needed anyone to know him before. never cared if people loved him or hated him, as long as they watched.

but you.

you make him want to be real. and that terrifies him.

so he took it back.

because kaiser didn’t know if you’d ever feel the same… and pride has always been easier than heartbreak.

but now, standing there in the doorway while you refuse to even glance his way, he realizes what he’s done.

he pushed you away the second he was closest to pulling you in.

and for the first time since he made that stupid, arrogant bet…

he’s terrified that he actually lost you.

then the next day came.

and the shift was unmistakable.

kaiser walked into the pr office like he always did, head held high, trademark cocky swagger in full force, expecting the usual. your unimpressed side-eye. the sarcastic “you’re not allowed in here, you know.” maybe, if he was lucky, the quiet smile you didn’t think anyone noticed when he leaned too close or called you liebling under his breath.

but this time?

nothing.

you were already at your desk, posture perfectly straight, headset on, fingers flying across the keyboard like you hadn’t just been the recipient of a half-confession the night before.

no teasing. no sarcastic quip. no glance in his direction.

just silence.

kaiser blinked, momentarily thrown off. okay, he thought. maybe she’s just busy.

he stepped inside anyway—uninvited, as usual—leaned casually against the filing cabinet near your desk.

“morgen, liebling.” he said with practiced ease, the pet name wrapping around the room like it always did.

your response?

a quiet, barely audible “morning.” you didn’t even look up.

his smirk faltered.

not that anyone else would notice, he was too good at keeping up the front. too good at hiding the fact that the cold brush-off felt like a punch to the chest.

he stayed there for a beat longer, waiting for the real reaction. the one where you'd roll your eyes and throw a pen at him. the one where you’d smirk and say, “don’t call me that at work, kaiser.”

but nothing came.

he walked out without another word, unsure if it was better to laugh or scream.

it only got worse from there.

during practice, he caught himself looking through the glass window of the upper level, where your office overlooked the training pitch, and you were there, clipboard in hand, headset still on. but you weren’t watching him. not like you usually did. not like you used to, when he’d send a wink your way after a goal or mouth a smug “for you.”

you didn’t glance at him even once.

and for someone who thrived on attention—who lived off reactions, validation, control—your silence hit like a direct kick to the ribs.

“yo,” ness nudged him mid-warmup. “you and the pr girl good? you’re off today. it’s creepy.”

“she’s busy,” kaiser grunted, brushing it off.

but his tone lacked conviction. even he could hear it.

isagi joined in a few minutes later, towel slung around his neck as he jogged beside him. “dude. did you mess up? she’s been acting different. super professional. formal. like—” he whistled low “—back to intern mode.”

kaiser didn’t respond.

because yeah. he’d noticed too.

the way you didn’t walk beside him down the halls anymore. the way you addressed him like a client in the media meeting, “kaiser, you’re expected at the post-match interview in ten” voice crisp, tone detached, like you weren’t the same person who once called him micha with something close to fondness under your breath.

not once today had you used that name.

and god, he missed it.

he missed you.

the real you, the version who didn’t flinch when he leaned in too close, who rolled her eyes when he flirted, who pretended not to smile when he brought you coffee just to watch your expression shift. he missed the quiet tension that buzzed between your fingertips whenever he reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the spark in your eyes when you pretended not to care.

and now?

now, you looked right through him. like last night had never happened. like the words “i think i’m in love with you” had been a figment of his imagination.

but it wasn’t your distance that killed him.

it was the fact that you didn’t confront him. didn’t retaliate. didn’t even acknowledge it.

because if you’d fought him, he could’ve argued back.

if you’d teased him, he could’ve spun it around, turned it into another game.

but this quiet, clinical version of you?

it meant you were hurt.

and worse, that you were hiding it behind professionalism.

that’s when it hit him.

you’d thought he was serious last night.

because he was serious.

what you didn’t know—couldn’t know—was that kaiser had never meant to say it out loud. he hadn’t planned on confessing anything. he was michael kaiser. prideful, untouchable, golden boy. he didn’t fall.

and yet, there he was, leaning in the doorway of your office after hours, watching the way your fingers moved and thinking i’m in love with her.

he’d said it without thinking.

and then panicked. covered it up with a joke because he was terrified of the shift, terrified of losing the upper hand, of admitting that the game had stopped being a game weeks ago.

he saw the way your shoulders stiffened.

he heard the pause.

and still, he laughed.

called it a joke.

just so he didn’t have to deal with the weight of what he’d just said out loud.

now you were slipping away from him, inch by inch, behind a wall of professionalism and distance.

and it was entirely his fault.

for the first time in his life, michael kaiser didn’t feel like a winner.

he felt like someone who was about to lose something real.

and the worst part?

he wasn’t sure how to fix it.

not yet.

it all comes to a head at the gala.

blue lock’s annual fundraising night, suits, champagne, media appearances, and gold-dipped smiles plastered across every player’s face. the pr team is in full force tonight, and as one of the top interns, you’re assigned to coordinate behind the scenes.

you didn’t expect to be seen.

definitely didn’t expect to be noticed.

but you were wrong.

your dress is nothing too extravagant, just a simple off-shoulder satin piece in midnight blue, elegant, understated. but it hugs in all the right places. a little more skin than usual, a little less guarded. your hair’s pinned up, leaving your collarbones exposed, catching the soft golden light of the chandeliers.

kaiser notices the moment you step into the room.

and his entire chest goes tight.

he's halfway through a conversation with a sponsor, flute of champagne untouched in his hand, but his eyes are glued to you, the way your fingers brush a curl behind your ear, the soft laugh you give when someone hands you a glass.

you’re not looking at him.

and yet, every man in the room is looking at you.

and then he walks up, some finance guy, older, tall, too smooth with his words, asking if you’re free for a drink after the event. kaiser’s too far to hear what you’re saying, but he doesn’t need to.

the guy leans in closer. his hand brushes your lower back. you don’t step away.

kaiser’s jaw clenches.

and then another one joins. some smirking ex-pro turned broadcaster who’s all too eager to compliment your smile. and god, you smile back.

that’s it.

he’s had enough.

“excuse me,” kaiser says, voice tight as he hands off his glass to the nearest staff member without a glance. his teammates call after him, confused. someone asks where he’s going.

but he’s already striding across the ballroom.

you don’t even notice him until his hand wraps gently but firmly around your wrist.

your eyes widen. “kaiser?”

“we’re leaving.”

you blink. “what—? i’m working.”

“not anymore.”

his voice is low. controlled. but there’s something wild simmering beneath the surface, jealousy, frustration, something close to desperation.

the two men standing beside you step back, startled.

“hey, man—” one of them starts, defensive.

but kaiser’s not listening.

he’s pulling you away from the crowd, past the confused eyes of sponsors and players, down the hallways of the stadium and back toward the pr wing like a storm on legs.

you protest once, “kaiser, let go—” but it’s weak. your heart is thudding too loudly, your breath catching at the heat in his eyes.

the moment the door to your office slams shut behind you, he turns—fast, sharp, like he’s been waiting for this.

you barely have time to draw a breath before his voice slices through the thick silence.

“do you enjoy it?”

you blink. “what?”

his jaw tightens. there’s heat in his eyes, something stormy and restless. “having them look at you like that. letting them touch you.”

your brows pull together, confusion giving way to disbelief. “it’s part of the job. it was harmless.”

“harmless?” he takes a step closer, the air between you shrinking. “they had no idea who you are to me.”

you flinch at the words—not because of what they mean, but because of what they don’t.

“maybe that’s because you made damn sure i wasn’t anything to you,” you fire back, the words out before you can reel them in.

the sentence lands like a slap. the silence that follows is louder than any scream.

his expression falters—just for a second. a flicker of something wounded passes beneath the cool, practiced arrogance.

“you think i don’t care?” he asks, quieter now, his voice laced with something raw. “you think this doesn’t eat me alive?”

he moves again, slow but deliberate, until your back hits the edge of your desk and you’re caged by his presence. it’s not threatening—but it’s consuming.

“you wear that dress,” he murmurs, eyes dipping to your collarbone, lingering like a touch. “you smile like that. and you expect me to stand there and watch them put their hands on you?”

you meet his gaze, unwavering despite the way your pulse races. your voice comes out steady—cool, despite the fire beneath your skin.

“you don’t get to be jealous,” you say. “not after you said it was all a joke.”

his mouth opens slightly, like the words caught him off guard.

then—barely audible—he says, “it wasn’t.”

you go still.

but now that the dam has cracked, he doesn’t stop.

“you think i didn’t mean it?” his voice is rough, strained. “you think i’d say i think i’m in love with you just to play some twisted game?”

you don’t answer. your silence is louder than words.

he exhales, ragged. “i panicked,” he admits, softer now. “i’ve always been in control. of the game. the spotlight. the way people see me. but you…”

he swallows, and it’s the most human sound you’ve ever heard from him.

“you’re the only thing i can’t manage.”

your gaze drops, but his fingers gently tilt your chin up again, forcing you to face him.

“i meant it, meine liebe,” he says, voice trembling at the edges. “every damn word.”

the room feels still, suspended in that fragile space between what was and what could be.

you hate the way your heart clenches.

hate the part of you that wants to believe him.

hate the way your breath stutters when his thumb brushes your cheek, soft like a secret.

then, in a voice barely more than a whisper—

“tell me it’s too late. and i’ll walk out that door.”

you don’t.

instead, your voice breaks the silence, quiet but sure.

“you really fell first, huh?”

and when he kisses you—desperate, deep, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he doesn’t hold on tight—it’s not about the game, the act, or the mask he wears so well.

it’s real.

and this time, you let yourself kiss him back. completely. unapologetically.

like maybe, just maybe, this was always meant to happen.

[glitchy1938]

I had seen the fem version of shadow milk and I thought, what if in her fem version she falls in love with Y/n but as a man, where she makes a family but because of her corruption the last one, causing her son and husband to die, when he is locked up and after a while he is released, she meets the reincarnation of her son and husband who is now a woman y/n, not only is her son no longer hers or his, but he is not Ginverbrade

Maybe he'll find her in the paradise of eternal sugar when he goes to bother her in her female form.

Maybe We'll Meet Again... Somewhere...

Warning : sad, blood Jam, death

He never thought he would be falling in love at first, all of this was suppose to see if the village was worthy to see and leave it like it is or destroy. He decided to use his identity by disguise himself as a "lost woman who doesn't have any home", he then meet you. You were a simple cookie who worked in a baker shop not too far from your home, you were just pick some Berry for your pie then you meet her gaze. He then act to take advantage of you and see if you'll fall for him in this form, but to his supriced, you just told him that he can come with you and live as long as he want with a kind smile.When you two arrived in your home you give her some hot cocoa, Shadow milk tried again to butter you up as she take the cup, "This is such a lovely cabin you have~, what was a generous cookie like you doing all alone~ ?" She's taken back when you told her that you enjoy solitude here, it bring you peace and a sense of calmness , your world unaffected by Shadow milk's attempt at charming you. She find it intriguing from you, so she decided to stay here a little longer....

Nothing special....As time passes you two became inseparable, she enjoy your company much more the just a mire intriguing thing.... She then realised that she fell in love with you... You were the first to confess your feeling to her, as she accepted with no lies... No acting... Just.... Pure love.... You two got married and one day, you had a little boy to complete the picture.... He was hiper active, kind, and Brave... Shadow Milk never thought he would've been this happy before, having a family..! He felt... Peace... After so long.... But alas.. Happiness never last long for villains...He doesn't know exactly what happened, but there was only fire, destroyed houses, jam, and crumbled cookies....

He was still in his disguise as he called you and your son praying for you two to be alive, but it was useless.... He found you both dead.... Your son was next to you as you were hugging.... You probably attempted to protect him but that cause you both the end of your life.... He couldn't believe it.... no... Not you...!! He... He can't live without you !!... He cried... Uncontrollably as he held you and his boy's body.... Why ?...After the witches sealed him him and the others, he couldn't think anything else but you two... Was this that called a "Breaking Heart" ?... He hated this feeling... The Witches can do whatever they want to him... He just want you two back... !! Centuries passed, and when he got free, he start with his minions to cause deceice to cookies for fun until he meet Gingerbrave, from the distance, he can't help but fell like the young cookie remind him of his son... The same energy, passion, bravery... He doesn't want to be fool and think one second that it was him but... Reincarnated.... But then there is you....

You weren't a boy, no. You're... A woman... But... You still the same... Same kindness, sound, manners... But also, you were like a mother to a little boy... Always caring to him and his friends, he even called you "mom"... He doesn't know if it's fate or not... But he doesn't want you near him or even the kid... He doesn't want to make the same mistake he did back there and unable to save you both...

But when he saw that you're with Hollyberry and his soldiers, he couldn't wait any longer. He decided to go back to the paradise of the "Bright Of Happiness" in his female disguise, you were with Wildberry cookie and Raspberry cookie at the moment. And after the little "chat" they had, he just went off to look for you to see if you were okay, as he stalk you, he saw that you've made Sugarfly cookie get her butterfly wings free and go against Eternal Sugar Cookie's chains of happiness, he knew you would, he had never doubted from you. He knew you. Even if he can't show himself right now, he know you two we'll be together again with your son.

"Wait for me, Mi Amor... We'll be together again... I promise...."

[earthsparked]

Greetings! It’s the A Quiet Place AU anon again. Ever since I sent my first ask, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this concept. Because of that, today I decided to watch the movie again, and I was reminded that the death angels are in fact capable of carving up metal like a hot knife through butter.

Originally, I was thinking it would be more of a “the cybertronians save the humans and adopt us and all is well” thing, the end of the apocalypse and such, but I think the idea that the death angels pose a considerable threat to them as well could be more interesting.

(btw I love everything about the coterie, being a space cat would be rad)

———————

“I thought you said this planet was safe, Prime.”

The Autobots stand over the battered frame of their fallen comrade. Though these creatures were far less advanced than their own kind, they certainly put up a fight. They were fewer, and yet resisted the mech’s weapons long enough to extinguish the poor bot’s spark. His last expression still on his faceplate, making it clear that it had been a painful end.

The Prime scans the scene, before letting his optics rest on his lost soldier. Another member of his family, gone, and not even as a result of the war. No, his friend was taken from him, by an unknown species, on a strange and distant planet, far from the war. A planet that was supposed to be a respite, where they could recuperate before plunging back into the fray.

“…..It was supposed to be. All data gathered of Earth indicated that it would be safe enough to shelter us.” There had been no time to send in scouts. The Ark was losing power fast, and he had to take a chance for the sake of his crew. It was a risk, but one he thought would be minor based on his research. “There was even the possibility that some of the indigenous life forms might welcome us…”

The lieutenant scoffs. “Well, what a warm welcome, eh?”

“No… these… creatures, were not listed among the native earthlings…” He stills, and lets the sounds of the forest fill his audio receptors.

It’s quiet.

“…Something is wrong.”

———————

Alone and afraid, a human makes their way to the place the giant spaceship descended. They know it’s foolish, considering the last things to crash-land on this planet have proven to be quite the unsavory bunch, but they still find themselves carefully making the trek.

Might as well, they think. With long-term survival feeling like some distant hope that slips away with every new morning, perhaps death by curiosity would be a release. The human’s inner cat was scratching at the walls of their mind to find out what happened.

The sandy path other survivors poured in days long past only stretched so far, and when it was gone, so began the careful stepping over twigs and dead leaves. Even barefoot, every step was too loud. With each foot placed on the ground, the human paused and listened. Waited. Then another step.

The pattern repeated until they came upon a newly formed clearing. Burnt and broken trees, singed and upturned earth. At the end of it all, a vast star-faring ship.

But that is not the interesting part, no. The human’s attention is solely on the giant robots near the entrance to the ship, one of their kind seemingly deactivated, and the broken bodies of four Listeners.

The relief is short lived, as now there is the matter of new, stronger, and presumably smarter creatures.

That thought, too, hasn’t the chance to linger, as the sound of an alien screech brings a horrific realization…

There were five Listeners in this area.

Before they can turn around and face their impending doom as it thunders towards them, one of the robots swiftly turns and raises its weapon. With a flash, a bright beam of energy flies over the human’s shoulder, making painful sounding contact with the creature. Its body limply thuds on the ground.

The human stands frozen, watching as their rescuer lays down its weapon and strides over to them. The other robots hang back, quietly speaking to one another in a strange language.

The rescuer stops to kneel in front of the human, a futile attempt to appear smaller. Bright red and blue metal shines in the sunlight, and the robot’s mask retracts.

“Greetings, little one. My name is Optimus Prime, and I come in peace.”

The human gapes in astonishment, amazed by the robot—Optimus Prime’s—voice, and that he speaks their language.

Gathering composure, they close the distance, and carefully lay little hands on his much larger one, before speaking for the first time since this all began.

“…Optimus Prime, on behalf of every living creature on this planet, welcome to Earth.”

Anon I've had this stuck in my inbox and could not post it for some reason, I am sorry! This is FANTASTIC.

[herotome]

Hi-ho, Wudge here!

I'm pretty excited to write this update. It feels like the past few(?) have been kinda downers that bum me out cuz I felt like I didn't do enough, but this past week I accomplished a lot!!!

A little preview...

ID: art of a phone. the screen displays a youtube apology video. The title of the video is "About the Smokescreen Situation," and the comments are turned off.

When I started out as a developer, I didn't really understand what would be built-in for me in ren'py, and I'd have to code in on my own.

Until this point, my playtesting process was....

play through the game from the very beginning

save the game at certain points

take a break for the day

come back another day and squint at the save files trying to determine where I left off, and what still needs doing

replay the game from the beginning again because the save files didn't contain the exact location/world state that I needed to test

...And as I made progress on writing and coding the story of Herotome, it became more taxing to playtest the game from the beginning.

It didn't hit me until very recently, many years into devving, that I could make my own devtool to jump between scenes.

I even wrote little recaps for myself per scene. :') feelsgoodman.jpeg

It took about a full day to code as test these screens, but they've worked beautifully. I'll likely still playteset Herotome from the beginning again sometime before releasing the next episode -- but I no longer have to playtest from the beginning almost every time I playtest.

For now, these screens are for my private use; but with some modifications and testing, I may make them available in the next edition of Herotome.. or in the release after that. We'll see. No promises, because jumping into the game from Scene Selection is useful for me as the developer, but it's a lotlotlotlot more likely to cause immersion-breaking bugs for a player.

And now that I have these screens, it made it soooooooooo much easier to jump to my newest story segments and to work on them - mainly to code in sprite/art positioning segments. Behold...!

I have art representing MC watching #superhero videos while jogging!

Phone and video stills art courtesy of @qkayoostudio

I worried a lot that this solo scene with MC would be boring, but having visible art has really helped it feel more engaging.

If you notice the video titles, view counts, comment section... that's all manually written and coded in by me. Having it all in code (rather than put together in a .png file) means I can alter the writing in renpy very easily without ever switching to an art program, it's an absolute treat I did for myself and I'm very happy about it.

I also uh... made these.. lol.

I've been feeling particularly unsatisfied with my sprite concept art lately, so my tactic to stop indefinitely fretting/fussing over them was to turn the sprites into shadowy stand-in blobs. I'm much more satisfied with the blobs. I no longer have to worry about their sprites' face shapes, fashion choices, body postures, or how I feel like my art isn't good enough.. because for now they're just blobs!

I'll be replacing the blobs with actual character art later, of course, NPC art is just soooo low priority that fretting over their imperfections felt like wasting time and energy.

I also did a bit of positioning for Katie... nothing new to show off from my success, but I do have a curious failure to share.

Somehow, Katie's cute little kitty sprite went to sit on the cabinet and fits there perfectly (aside from uh.. being a bit too big for a cat lol).

Going back to my Scene Selection screen - basically, I got through most of scenes 11-13! Having all the scenes numbered here in a list and immediately acccessible (in various worldstates of my choosing) is sooooo much better for me than the save file thumbnails... Idk if I've been able to explain it clearly at all, but I hope at least my excitement and relief shone through in this devlog.

Stay safe and keep warm,

Wudge.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Howdy! Can I request rut/heat scenario for Hobo with an S/O who is willing to help in any way possible? NSFW or SFW, whichever the muse leans into

I got so excited to write this request <3 I did a mix of SFW and NSFW since Hobo tends to have more behavioral changes overall. I did go with headcanons though so I could ramble about it more, I hope that's okay and that you enjoy :)

You're the first partner Hobo has ever had and gotten this close to, to the point that you'd be willing to help him through his heat. Of course, he did give you the rundown about what his heat would be like months in advance, and when you eagerly agree that you'll help him however he can, he gets so flustered but also so eager and excited as well, because he finally won't have to deal with his heat alone. Once the seasons start changing and he can sense his heat is starting to come on, he does check with you like an additional 100 times to make sure you're still interested, and when you reassure him that you are, his clinginess begins to skyrocket once his symptoms start hitting him.

I've said a lot before that Hobo gets VERY aggressive during and before his heat. It's jarring sometimes, seeing the sweetest, quietest member of the mansion suddenly turn into an aggressive and possessive person. He clings to you at all hours of the day the weeks before his heat, constantly having a wing around you, glaring at anyone that gets too close, caring for you and making sure you have everything you need, making sure he's keeping his mate happy and safe. I've also said before if someone tries to get too close to you or does something to upset you while Hobo is in this stage, he WILL beat the shit out of someone for you because his brain is telling him that he has to protect and defend his mate (which he always feels extremely sorry about after the heat is over). Normally shy about PDA, once he starts getting closer to his heat, days away, you have to drag him into privacy all the time because he can't contain himself. Smothering your mouth with his kisses, trailing them down your neck, his hands wandering around your body, hands slipping below your clothes. It doesn't matter if you're at the mansion dinner table, in a meeting, or just hanging out with others, he can't stop getting touchy with you, and you have to be the one with self-control to take him to his room so he doesn't try and strip you during dinner. Your scent just drives him crazy, and once it's the day before his heat officially starts, you physically can't get him off of you because his mind and body are so clingy and possessive over you.

Once he's actually in the heat, when you so eagerly decide to help him however you can, you're not getting away from him now. He's on top of you the whole time, biting and sucking and licking every inch of your skin, his hands constantly wandering and caressing and groping, doing their best to map out your body, doing their best to bring you pleasure as fast as possible. He keeps his wings fanned out over the two of you, sheltering you, keeping you safe while he satisfies the two of you. Normally, Hobo tends to be quite submissive in the bedroom, but once his heat hits he wants to be the one in control, controlling the pace and what's happening. Of course, he puts your needs first, as his brain drives him to satisfy his mate, to keep you happy and pleased so you'll stay with him, so you'll keep helping him, so he adapts immediately to even the smallest changes in your mood and energy during this time, and it gets to the point that he makes you have way more orgasms than he does. When he's not fucking you into his mattress so roughly you can't breathe, he's clinging to you, covering you in bitemarks, happily chirping, and doing his best to care for you and keep you content, never releasing you from his grasp, before he jumps back into relentlessly fucking you. One second you're feeding him and making him hydrate while you cuddle, the next you're on your stomach and he's losing himself to the pleasure you bring him all over again. You have to force him to take breaks to shower and eat, because otherwise if he had it his way you'd stay in his bed for the entirety of the week of his heat. The lengths you go to so you can please him and help him as much as possible drive him crazy and push him more desperately into his lust for you, so you're lucky he cares for you all the same because you won't be able to walk for several days once his heat is finally over. Covered head to toe in his love marks and more exhausted than you thought you ever could be, congratulations, you've helped your bird boy through his first heat. He'll be much clingier next year when the second one rolls around due to his brain acknowledging that you'll do whatever you can for him, and let him fuck you as much and often as he needs.

[validinsanity]

To be seen

Hey everyone! i need some help with this piece :3c Im not sure how to continue it any suggestions or what would yall enjoy?

summary:

Konig struggles with people. Horangi wants to spend time with konig

they fall in love

He’d always been like this—for as long as he could remember. No amount of training or punishment could fix him.  

At first, as a small boy, it had been considered cute and adults paid no mind. Children flapped their hands and made cute little noises when excited. It wasn’t until one day at seven years old he’d been playing with a toy car that his mother had called attention to his odd behavior. 

He’d been flapping his arms in joy of his little car having been the winner of his imaginary race, when his mother had suddenly grabbed his arms and pinned them down. König’s heart had leaped in fear having been handled so abruptly. He squirmed, confused, as she scolded him: Act your age! Stop this weird habit. 

He’d cried, not understanding what he’d done wrong. 

After that, he’d tried to stop—whatever it was that had upset her. He hid during his playtime. Away from prying eyes his little body just had so much fun it let out these involuntary movements or sounds. Cooing or hopping around in excitement. He just couldn’t help it. 

His parents had done their best to curb his fidgeting and disruptive behavior. At first it was small little reminders or writing out multiple Hail Mary’s to quell the endless need to release the energy. Then when nothing had worked it led to more drastic measures. 

His mother began to tie his fingers together to keep them still, muttering that his endless twitching was the work of the devil. He had to overcome! His father had him simply sit on his hands for hours until his hands had gone numb. 

Then came the whispers. 

His mother and her friends would talk about him: Surely by now he would have grown out of this? He must be acting out! Is he simple? From then on he knew there was something wrong with him.

From then on, he’d done his best to avoid adult’s stares. Entering grade school kids picked up on his oddities as well. Fueled by their parent’s whispers, he started to feel his classmate’s ire. They mocked him for looking at their shoes when he talked. Picking on him for not being able to look at them at all at times. 

He’d tried to explain. The strange feeling he got when looking at faces. The skin-crawling anxiety that crept up when he had to talk to strangers or solve a problem at the front of the class. Being miserable when people asked him to partake in group activities. 

It made no difference. 

To everyone König was just weird. 

Different and wrong in his peer’s eyes. 

So he adapted. As he grew older he learned to mask what made him different.To hide himself from prying eyes. 

Joining the military had been his saving grace. There he’d managed to get a clear structure of everyday life. Clear rules, routines, predictability that eased his anxiety of not fitting in. In uniform he was like everyone else. He followed orders and kept in line.

He rose through the ranks faster than anyone had expected, surpassing his peers in disciple, strategy, and focus. That’s how Kortac found him. 

On paper he was a machine. Task focus, obedient, a tool to be pointed at an enemy without care. A master strategist and trained killer. His reputation had landed him in high regard. 

Now, as one of the top strategists for Kortac, he was seen as only König. Nothing less—but nothing more either. The small boy who was frightened of people now stood tall among his peers. Easily one of the most deadliest contractors in Kortac—an apex predator on the battlefield.  

A king of his craft. No longer a man. A beast. 

Something he never realized until another beast started hunting him. 

“SCHEISSE! HORANGI!” 

The Korean just laughed as he jumped out from behind König’s office door. König wasn’t sure when their odd companionship had started, but he wasn’t about to complain. After years of bullying and then focusing in his adulthood on the military, König had never learned how to make… friends. 

Even now, he wasn’t sure what Horangi and he had going on.

They drank together. After missions Horangi would drag him into card games, talk tactics, maybe trade stories. Not much more than coworkers, really. 

But how König wished it was more. 

With a flick of his wrist, he snapped a paperclip at Horani’s exposed forehead and flipped him off for good measure.  

“Asshole! Why do you carry so many of these shits?! Your a fucking walking office supply room!” Horangi grumbled, rubbing the spot. “I swear I find ‘em in our washing machines!” 

He was probably right. König always kept paperclips in his pockets. If he couldn’t pick at his nails or skin, he needed something to fiddle with. Something he could hide. Something they couldn’t take away. 

“What do you want, Horangi.” he asked, moving over to his desk and dropping the latest reports. As much as he enjoyed the man’s presence, he had work to do. König reached for the folder, not missing the way Horangi dropped into the chair across his desk like he owned the place. 

“Don't tell me you're actually going to work on that crap,” Horangi said, pushing his shades up, squinting at the dense reports. “It’s not due till ten days out and we’ve got mandatory leave for a week anyway ‘cause the last damn mission was a bust.” 

König grunted. “Unlike you, I don’t want to leave things to the last minute to finish them.” 

“Huh. That’s a shame. You know, I was thinking—” 

“Gott help us all.” 

“SHUT THE FUCK UP. I was thinking we should go out! Team’s hitting that bar near base. You should come.” 

König paused. Refusing to look up, he asked “Why?” 

Everyone on base knew he wasn’t very sociable. Most gave him a wide berth. The few times he’d joined the team for drinks or outings, he’d floundered—unsure what to say or how to behave. 

Faced with so many people all from different creeds he struggled to find common ground with anyone. Too many faces. Too many accents. Too many subtle cues he didn’t understand. Just expectations he couldn’t meet.  

He remembered his early days at Kortac: stiff posture, overly formal speech, no eye contact— it was as if he was back in grade school all over again. Without the buffer of command or orders he was making enemies of his team rather than merging in.

It wasn’t until Horangi had all but dragged him out yelling “TIME TO MET EVERYONE!” that he’d stumbled through his first outing with Kortac. That night, Horangi had acted like a human shield. Standing between König and the others, intercepting conversations and deflecting attention. It had felt as if he had intentionally put himself as a wall to be able to still be present but not forced to speak to everyone. König had been silently grateful—but also furious. 

It had left him reeling at the time with how insightful Horangi had been to his discomfort. Even more so, it had left him angry that after years of battling himself— he could still not be normal. 

König could command a whole platoon, snarl orders, present his mission reports without a single stutter—yet when faced to sit with strangers and expected to just be… Every facial expression on display, all body language meant to convey some kind of message that he didn’t understand, secret or double meanings to words that everyone else just knew but him! It infuriated him to no end! 

He hated that he wasn’t normal. 

“I wanna go out and it would be great to spend time with yea outside of these four walls.” Horangi leaned back on his chair, tipping it. “We should—” 

“No, thank you.” he did not feel the need to feel humiliated again. 

“헐! Come on! There’s gotta be something you wanna do out of here!” He grumbled as he slammed down his chair crossing his arms like a sulking child. 

König did not want to disappoint him. He did want to spend time with Horangi. But a bar full of strangers…being in a crowded bar with people he did not have any interest in was unbearable. 

The urge to pick at his skin was creeping in. His fingers twitched. He did not want to promise Horangi something he could not do. 

Suggesting something outside of the base was not undoable…

“H-Hong-jin…I-” König swallowed hard, trying to steady his resolve. “Would you join me…on a holiday?” 

[bean-face]

sketches of a couple of my oc's

knight maid elf and goblin mage

@firefilledhikey figured you'd wanna see these girls

sorry the trans homunculus isn't around i don't have a drawing of that one yet

[idontmindifuforgetme]

megan thee stallion is the perfect example of unbothered energy. nicki has repeatedly vagueposted about her, gone on unhinged rants about her, gone so far as to mention her dead mother (such a classless low blow), threatened her on live, and has now released the tackiest diss track in history. and what has megan done? literally nothing. she straight up ignored her, aside from that one ig story where she posted herself laughing (which was perfect btw). she is the epitome of “i will not dignify that w a response.” i love it.

[scftmen]

A sleepy smile adores lax features as arms sprawl open for company to embrace him, naturally grunting at the weight shift but it's a welcome comfort all the same. A left arm wraps loosely over the upper back once company settles into a comfortable position. "What?? you're not tired?" Brows knit in disbelief, and then briefly ponders to the tv. "I don't think you had anything to drink, did you? Cause if not, that makes sense." Damien could have put more effort into thinking about it, but it truly didn't matter at the end of the day.

Damien was a very big baby as a bottom, so he might have exerted more energy with drinking that made him a sloppy mess- but thus far Jamie didn't seem to give any indication that was an issue. Then again, mental aptitude was so lost in the present moments mixed with alcohol, his alertness was rather low. If there was any judgement happening, it was far above his ability to clock it; "I dunno, nothing special, you picky about your tv? Sports, gaming community, asmr, lo-fi, what?" It was evident that there was very little thought about what was to happen next, he's content to relax, and just be. A left leg still loosely out of the throw and off the side of the couch a little bit.

"A rough job? T'yeah, especially with you on top of me again, but i think we can snuggle a little and watch something for a little bit before I bother to get up and start drinking water. If I pass out before then, oh well. Not the end of the world. Wouldn't be my first hangover." The left hand would splay fingers against skin or worn fabric as he'd caress the upper back in loose circles, occasionally dragging nails for a more tingling, ticklish sensation. "You can grab the remote, put whatever you want on." A loose gesture is made toward the coffee table. "Or you can leave it off if you prefer quiet, I'm fine either way."

Brown eyes wander down to the man in his arms with a dopey smile, and occasionally around the room before eyes close. Comfortable and relaxed, a loud, heaved breath has the chest rise.. and slowly release. "You care if I touch your hair?" A right extending a first and second digit at the nape of the neck where the hairline ended. This felt good, too good.. addicting. He was in trouble, and he knew it.

Jamie caught that crinkle in Damien's nose and couldn't help the grin that tugged at his own lips. "Posh and uptight? Yeah, Jameson's got that vibe for sure. I don't know what my parents were thinking; they swear they named me that because they shared a bottle of Jameson the night I was conceived or some stupid shit like that. Jamie's definitely a better fit. It's more relaxed, less likely to show up with a monocle and a top hat." He smirked, meeting Damien's eyes like it was some kind of silent, unspoken truce. This felt different and warmer somehow, like giving names to the people who were usually just passing shadows. When Damien laughed, Jamie felt the tension between them loosen a little. That retreat inward, the playful embarrassment, it made him want to lean in closer, to reach out and bridge the space. "Look at you, all vulnerable and shit," Jamie teased gently, voice dipping into something softer. "I might just have to take you up on that cuddle offer before you talk yourself out of it." He shifted a little, scooting closer to Damien, pulling the throw over both of them like it was the start of something new. "I'm not tired yet, but I'm definitely curious about what 'something' we're gonna watch. And you? Staying up sober sounds like a rough job. Good thing I'm here to keep you company." When Damien said his name, Jamie caught the way it hung in the air, like it carried more weight than before and it hit him that this casual thing was already slipping into something more. And for once, he wasn't scared of it. "Yeah, this is... Nice."

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

it's been a little bit but i gotta say. that diary of a wimpy kid punchline was SO GOOD. like you /told us/ that the first two were a set up for a joke and yet it still landed absolutely perfectly. like. /wow/ i was CACKLING and i still giggle a little whenever i think about it. just phenomenal execution

Comedy comes in threes, and sometimes that means two great high fives before slapping a diary of a wimpy kid crossover in your hand.

[townofcadence]

He doesn't mind the exchange ending how it does. As it is, the Crow has shown kindness he did not need to give him, and that is enough for him to know that he is kind. And that is all he needs to know. He accepts what little he is given, because it is enough.

"It.... wasn't all that much." He protests one last time, but he doesn't move when the Heart insists. He bites his lip, and allows the hand to place against his own beating heart. The minor injuries knit and mend, and while little change seems to take place in demeanor, subtle shifts occur, from the fraction of a hunch he'd had, or the smallest degree of tension in his chest and shoulders that is released as the pain subsides and he no longer has to control it.

"I....thank you. I do appreciate your kindness." He admits, rubbing at his neck and stepping back, once its done. He shivers, at the way the energy seemed to run through his body. He feels-- charged. Electric, somehow, like that energy is still beating in his veins instead. It's hard for him to describe the sensation, but he feels-- further than alive. Like for a moment when that palm touched him, he knew what it was like to be the heart of the forest too. Even if he never would be, for a fleeting beat he was. "I still apologize for the inconvenience. To you and Crow both."

🎬

The crow does not ask anything about Artair, nor does he express joy at having met the other. It's not that he doesn't like Artair, as far as strangers go, he's quite a good one to be around, but the crow has never had any opportunity to socialize or meet new people. He is admittedly too focused on the task he's been given to really think about forming relationships with others.

The Heart looks at Artair with a raised brow before stepping closer. "Please, do not talk like that. You did do something, and that deserves a small reward, at least. Healing you would hardly take any energy at all, so please, let me." He presses his hand against Artair's chest, and the energy that always seems to hum around him now vibrates inside of Artair's skin, mending that which is broken and bruised within seconds.

[antennatoheaven]

my thoughts on The Murderbot Show:

idk man

‎

[ganondoodle]

watched a video of someone reacting to skittys totk video and it really reinvigorated my hatred for that game- HOWEVER i am gritting my teeth and am not writing about it bc i feel like whatever rant i will write is gonne be wasted time since the stupid book exists and can change it all (from what i HAVE seen for the worse lmao) so i feel like until i get my hands on it (be it physical or digital though i do not want to spend money on anything with that name attached ever again) i shouldnt write anything ...

[spiritusmuses]

Calvin chewed his lip for a moment trying to think of how to respond. “That’s not what I am saying. You just give off a strong energy babe and I was not going to go all alpha male again and ruin this too.” He told her as he heard that she wanted him too. “I don’t think you understand I’d be in control of your orgasm, no amount of begging would I let you release until I say so or all the teasing I’d want. You can’t say no.” He told her as he narrowed his eyes a bit. “Your face in my chest half the time it is.”

She chewed on her lip nervously. “I asked Harper why things didn’t work out. Because I can’t imagine my life without you and I just wanted to understand why she’d ever not want you. And she said you guys both liked to be dominant in bed and that’s why she stopped wanting you.” It was awkward to talk about, especially during date night. “Well, would you rather watch a scary movie or a musical?” She chuckled softly.

[electrivolt]

// sitting against the corner. i do miss my grusha