#it was made VERY clear to me as a consumer that this was NOT a health drink lmfao

[himasgod]

King Deshret x Reader II

Where Cyno, through the eyes of Hermanubis, begins to have all the memories about the Queen, you, and King Deshret

KING DESHRET X READER I!

SCENARIO: Currently, Cyno has visions about Hermanubis, a person very close to the Queen, you, and King Deshret, living through her entire story in pain first hand, stories that torment Cyno every night.

(I'm definitely loving this a lot. I loved the first part, and I love this one even more. Should I another part about the relationship between Reader and Hermanubis? I love them so much. Thanks as always to sailorstar9 for her amazing idea for this request and I love you all, enjoy!)

(And just to remind you, there will be a third part posted on my profile on Friday the 15th!)

VII.

The nights after receiving the second fragment of Hermanubis were a silent torture for Cyno. He would close his eyes, hoping for rest, but instead he would be drawn into a whirlwind of visions so clear that he seemed to live in another time, in another skin. Through the memories of Deshret's faithful priest, he witnessed a past he had never imagined.

He found himself walking through the halls of the palace under a sky tinted red at dusk. Through the eyes of Hermanubis, Cyno watched as the Queen, you, stood by the throne, your gaze fixed on the horizon of the desert that stretched beyond the palace walls. There was a mix of determination and melancholy in your eyes, a longing for something you could no longer reach.

Hermanubis watched you from the shadows, sensing a loyalty that went beyond duty. You were the light that had guided Deshret through his darkest moments, the anchor that kept him steady when his ambitions threatened to consume him. But now, your dear Hermanubis could see that light slowly fading.

Cyno felt Hermanubis’s anguish, his thoughts mingling with his own. How could a king who promised to protect you, a man who shared his dreams with you, have become so lost in another’s promises?

VIII.

One night, in one particularly vivid memory, Cyno felt the gentle desert breeze caress his face as you and Deshret walked together beneath the starry sky. Deshret, wrapped in his regal attire, spoke passionately of his visions of a kingdom that would challenge the celestial gods. But this time, your responses were slower, less enthusiastic than before.

“Deshret,” you whispered to him with a softness that contained all the love you had shared, “do you still remember the day you promised me that nothing would come between us?”

The king stopped and turned to you, his eyes shining with an almost feverish intensity.

“I remember, my queen. But now…” his words trailed off, his gaze distracted by a thought that no longer included you. The silence that followed was deafening.

At that moment, Cyno felt a lump form in his throat, a sharp pain that he could not attribute to his own feelings, but to the echo of the anguish Hermanubis had experienced upon seeing you. The priest had seen how, in that instant, your heart broke silently, but you said nothing. You simply nodded, letting your tears get lost in the darkness.

IX.

The memories became more and more painful. The palace, which had once been a haven of love and warmth, was now a place filled with shadows. Since Nabu Malikata’s arrival, the air had changed; there was a fragrance in the air that did not belong to the desert, but to the lush gardens she brought with her.

Cyno, still seeing it all through Hermanubis’ eyes, noticed how you struggled to maintain your composure as Deshret spent more time with her. The Goddess of Flowers had a grace that seemed to enchant everyone around her, and despite your best efforts, you couldn’t help but feel the connection you once shared with your husband fading away.

One night, in a vivid memory that made Cyno shudder, Hermanubis approached you in the palace’s private garden. The flowers you used to tend to had been neglected, a reflection of your own inner state. You stood alone in the palace gardens, your face hidden under a veil to hide your tears. You, the strong and resolute queen, were kneeling on the ground, your hands shaking as you tried to hold back your tears.

Hermanubis, ever respectful, approached without making a sound. But you, sensing his presence, spoke to him without turning around.

“I am fading, Hermanubis,” you whispered, your voice barely audible above the murmur of the wind. “My love means nothing to him anymore. His eyes only seek her… and I…” you paused, as if afraid to utter the words that would bring your pain to reality, “I don’t know if I can be here anymore.”

Hermanubis closed his eyes and took your hands, kissing your knuckles softly as he whispered a prayer to try and calm you down.

“You know, Hermanubis?” you whispered, your voice broken and barely audible, “If there was a next life… I wouldn’t want to see him again.”

Those words fell like a sentence, a whisper that pierced Hermanubis’s soul… and, through it, Cyno’s heart. The pain Cyno felt in that instant was heartbreaking. It was as if the weight of centuries of desolation and resentment was seeping into his mind.

What kind of pain drives a person to wish never to meet the being they once loved more than themselves?

X.

Cyno continued to witness the events that followed. You went to the Great Dendro Archon, Rukkhadevata, to beg her to help you disappear from history, faking your death so you could start anew in adistant land.

The Archon and your friend, moved by your grief, acceded to your wish. In a secret ritual, your death was faked. And so, with tears in his eyes, Hermanubis watched as you faded into the night, leaving behind the realm you once called home.

XI.

When Cyno awoke, his hands were shaking. He had spent entire nights reliving the Queen's desolation, feeling the love you once had for Deshret turn into a hatred so deep that you did not even wish to see him in another life. Those words were a dagger still stuck in his mind.

Back in the actual Sumeru, Cyno could not stop the memories from mixing with his own emotions. He found himself in front of the statue of Deshret, looking at it with new eyes.

"Were you really a wise king?" Cyno murmured, his voice full of disdain. "You abandoned what held you most dear for an illusion of grandeur… and in the end, you weren’t even able to keep the simplest promise: to be there for those who needed you."

“I’ve seen the price of your ambitions,” Cyno snapped. “I saw how she loved you, and how you condemned her to oblivion. Her last words, King Deshret, were that if there was a next life, she would never want to see you again. Can you live with that?”

The silence that followed was as vast as the desert itself. Even the great Deshret couldn’t escape the weight of the words of the woman he had loved and betrayed.

Here is my masterlist, in case you are interested in any more of my work or want to send me a request <3

[nicholaschavezslut]

MAKE YOU MINE - father charlie mayhew

★warnings: nsfw content (dni if you're under 18), smut, degrading, blowjob, cussing, oral, use of "daddy", use of "father" during sex, size kink, (m! receiving)

!! English is not my first language, sorry for grammatical mistakes!!

The soft glow of the scented candles danced through the stained glass of the church window, casting gentle, colorful reflections that flickered across the stone walls. You had been sitting on the kneeler of the old, traditional church pews for quite a few minutes, silently whispering your prayers in your head. Suddenly, faint footsteps echo in the distance, growing louder and louder. "It's not often I find someone so young so late here. Is there something on your heart you'd like to share y/n?" the moment you heard that low-pitched, warm voice, you knew it was Father Charlie. A young, handsome priest who had just moved to this lonely town a few months ago. Word had spread quickly- every girl in town seemed to have found a reason to attend mass. Whispers of Father Charlie's striking looks and commanding presence echoed through the pews, as if the very sight of him was enough to draw them in. He was aware of the effect he had on many young women, but it never seemed to faze him. His passion for the sharing of the word of God was evident in every prayer he spoke, every prayer he led. It wasn't just his looks that drew people in ; it was the way he lived his purpose so wholeheartedly, without a hint of ego, that made him truly captivating.

She hesitated in telling him the truth, torn between the respect for him and the uncomfortable feeling of guilt building up inside her heart. She was afraid that he might see through her and know the sinful thoughts she couldn't shake. Cause the truth was, she had been falling in love with the priest. No matter how many times she tried to suppress those thoughts, they would just grow back and stronger. You took a heavy sigh and replied reluctantly: "Hello Father, uhm- I've just had some thoughts and decided to come here, nothing special."

Father Charlie studied her carefully, a flicker of doubt in his eyes. He didn't quite believe her- something about her words didn't ring true. His voice was gentle, but insistent. "Come with me." , he said, nodding toward the confession booth. "Let's talk more privately. I think there's something you need to share." Y/n follows him, heart racing and uneasiness building up inside her. When they entered the booth, the air was filled thick with anticipation, the heavy wooden door creaked shut behind them. He looked at her, gaze steady as he motioned for her to sit. She hesitated for a moment, unsure whether she should speak the truth or continue to hide behind her shame. But Father Charlie, sensing her nervousness, gently encouraged her, his voice low and steady. " Take your time.", he would say, his tone warm yet firm. "This is a safe space."

The priest leaned slightly closer, offering a reassuring warm smile. After a long pause, she finally spoke quietly "I-it's him..." she murmured, her gaze dropping to the floor, utterly ashamed of herself. "The way he carries himself, the way he speaks..I can't stop thinking about him and I feel so guilty..." She couldn't bring herself to say it outright, but the truth was clear- her thoughts were consumed by a man of God.

"Who is the man you're referring to Y/n?" Charlie softly asks with a genuine hint of concern in his tone. Y/n stays silent for a few more seconds until she softy replies: "It's so embarrassing father, I cant speak these impure thoughts...you might think differently of me after this. He nurturingly chuckles and reassures her: "Y/n, I promise you can tell me. We get more confessions like these than you think. it's human nature and it's completely normal. No wrorries."

"It's you, Father" she confessed, barely above a whisper. "I never meant for it to happen, but it's you..and- God I can't stop thinking about you. I feel so guilty.." The room goes silent. She doesn't dare to look up. She braces herself, expecting to be thrown out of the church any moment now. All of a sudden, she feels a big, warm hand holding up her chin. "Look at me, I'm not mad. Now get up and get on your knees." , The handsome man speaks up, feeling the buldge in his pants growing. She could barely comprehend what she had just heard, the words swirling in her mind like a blur. "you heard me, get on your knees." he speaks up again.

She obeys and slowly gets up, her hands shaking of emancipation, nervous about what was going to happen next. Without warning, he pushed her to her knees, forcing her into a position of submission. She looks up at him in admiration, knowing she's deeply in love with this man and everything about him. The best thing about him being his beautiful dark brown eyes. "What are you waiting for? unbuckle my belt you slut." , he aggressively speaks. She does as he says, and slowly moves her hands toward his belt, slowly unbuckling the belt and letting out a heavy sigh, nervous about what was about to come. She was soaking and was hoped he wouldn't notice. Once she pulled his pants and boxers down, his cock jumped out. It was huge, the biggest she's ever seen. The tip was bright red and dripping with precum. She slowly stroked his cock a couple of times and then started licking his slit, making him moan. "Fuck..." Charlie breathed out. Without warning, His hands started pushing her head and gripping her scalp, and even though it hurt, she liked it. More than she shouldve. She took him further in her mouth, the church filling up with disputable and obscene noises. There was no doubt that anybody in the radius of 20m would hear everything. She sucks off what's left that she couldn't fit in her mouth.

"mmm fuck, just like that baby, such a fucking good girl for me" she finally feels him twitch. He puts her hair up into makeshift ponytail to make the process easier for her. He looked so done, but she didn't care, cause in her eyes he was the most handsome man to ever exist, he was majestic. Instantly, he finished in her mouth and pulled away. "You did so good baby, but we don't have time to finish this anymore, the service is about to begin."

It's safe to say, her wildest dream came true.

[ollimus-prime]

sorry if it’s a little complicated, but maybe Megatron meeting Y/N again after so long, since having known them as D-16?

One Last Choice

A/N, not important: I don't think I got his personality right my b. If y'all have any tips or could point me towards some, I'd be forever thankful. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: Major Character Death(Reader)

Words: 1750

Summary: A final meeting with an old friend.

You’ve been captured. At least, you think you have. Unfriendly servos were wrapped around your shoulders and hauling you across the floor with a fury you hadn’t seen in years. Although, that’s about the most you could gather from the situation. Your systems were completely out of whack. Up was down and down was up. Nothing made sense anymore. You could feel your arms bound behind your back, restricting your movement and disorienting you further. 

The only thing you could be sure of now was the pain. It radiated through your frame like the energon flowing in your lines. Your HUD was flooded with warnings, the never-ending assault of painful information suffocating you and swallowing you whole. You could barely hear, could barely see. Everything was coated in a thick static that had taken over your world. Muffled voices sounded above you as you were dragged to whatever pit you would be left to go offline. 

You try to count the steps for a moment, willing your aching processor to sputter back to life and erase the static from your every thought. It consumed you, drove out your very will and forced you to accept defeat. What were you even fighting for at this point? Your friends? Freedom?

The war had been going on for so long at this point, you weren’t sure you remembered. Optimus Prime—though you’ve never gotten used to calling him that—had tried so hard to keep everyone’s spirit alive. To keep the hope of winning strong.

You weren’t sure you’d say he’d failed, but you definitely weren’t hopeful now. No one was, not if they weren’t insane or a liar.

The impact of your face onto the ground surprised you more than you wanted to or were willing to admit. Pain floods your systems again, your vision going completely black for an awful moment. You hated to consider the option something as stupid as being dropped took you offline. You weren’t weak. You’ve proved it in the mines, on the battlefield, yet this little extra shove seemed to blow your circuits more than you liked.

The voices sound above you, muffled arguing hinting at the nature of your predicament. You grimace, letting your face fall fully against the ground. They were probably debating which one of them got to end you.

When rough hands grab at your helm, you try to fight back. Every movement felt like it’d kill you, sparks from your own fried circuitry burned your face. Then, with a painful tug at something lodged in your helm, the static lifted. You take a harsh vent as your mind clears. You felt alive again, no longer stuck in the hell that was your own mind.

You dare to lift your helm, hoping to face your captors and get in some insults before they blow your processor over the wall. Instead of the grunts you were expecting, you face the dark pedes of the mech that started it all.

“Leave us,” he orders, causing whatever soldiers who grabbed you to quickly flee the room. You wait a second, still stuck on your front with your neck painfully bent to be able to face his pedes. It would be humiliating if you were able to think properly. 

The silence stretches between you until it becomes so heavy you feel you can’t properly vent. The fans under your plating sputter and pop with each second you’re stuck on your stomach, the weight of your own frame causing you to slowly overheat. Megatron lets the silence permeate the room for a few more moments before he takes another step towards you.

Your designation rolls off his tongue so much easier than you expected it to. There was no bite to his words, no underlying bitterness or anger. You shift on the ground where you’re left, ignoring the sparks shooting from your injured shoulder plate. You stare at the monster before you, the mech you once proudly called a friend. 

His plating looked just as weary as your own, his optics dimmed and lacking anything but hatred and contempt. There was pain in his stance, a pain you felt deeply mirrored within your own frame. It was hard to see him like this, to see him as the one who killed Orion and caused him to become the Primus-chosen leader instead. You search his facial plating for any sign of the friend you once knew, the hot-tempered but easy-going miner who just wanted to get through the day with his friends.

It hurts to admit you can’t find him.

“Well,” he prompts, taking a small step towards you. The dark red of his optics burn starkly against his chrome plating, the room’s poor lighting not helping the menacing look. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“I’m stuck,” you gripe, letting your forehelm touch the floor once more. You weren’t really stuck. Not truly. You weren’t being held down, and if you could gather the will power, you’d definitely be able to face him on your knees. The problem with that, however, is that you have no desire to make the effort. Whether you stood, knelt, or laid in front of him, the outcome would be the same. There was no part of you that expected to make it out of here with your helm attached to your shoulders.

“Really now,” Megatron chides, his pedes thudding against the ground as he circles you like a helpless animal. Every step makes your helm ache, the vibrations shaking your entire frame. “I always thought you were stronger than that. I’ve heard stories of your retaliation against my troops while you fight against our freedom.”

Megatron stops somewhere to the left of you, the tension growing thicker. You bristle slightly, sighing. His engine revs in anger as he regards you, examining your broken frame tossed upon his floor. “You betrayed me. You’ve betrayed Cybertron. You stood against me and chose to maintain Sentinel’s Primacy-”

“Sentinel’s dead,” you cut him off, irritated at his growing anger. “You fixed that problem. Let it go.”

“Let it go?!” He roars, grabbing the back of your frame and heaving you up. You grimace at the new pains shooting through your spinal struts, trying desperately to find leverage on the ground. “We toiled away in the mines our entire function because of him! He desecrated our bodies before we were even online! And yet you still turn to his beliefs and follow in the Primacy’s footsteps!”

Megatron stares into your face with white-hot fury, his teeth grinding against each other as he waits for you to respond. You can’t respond for a while, unsure what to say or what to do. You hesitate for too long, Megatron’s scowl growing as he throws you back onto the ground. You wheeze at the impact, optics flickering as you try to recalibrate your senses.

“You’re right,” you manage out, coughing up energon and spitting it out onto the floor. You grimace at the rancid taste, trying to clean your tongue on the roof of your mouth. He was right, in the important ways. Sentinel needed to be rid of. Sentinel’s rules needed to be changed. But that had happened, before the war between Megatron and Optimus really started. Megatron got rid of Sentinel, and Optimus got rid of his system. The only problem now was the hatred that had sprouted in the very sparks of the cybertronians.

“Excuse me?” Megatron laughs, walking closer to your limp frame. “Did my audials get miswired? Is the great major of the Autobot army agreeing with me?”

He kicks your arm, trying to get you to meet his optics. You stubbornly refuse, keeping them trained on the ceiling. “I’d never expected to see the day.”

You scoff at his words, leaning your helm back against the cool metal of the floor. “More ‘bots do than you’d expect. Your problem is how you went about it.”

“Right. Because getting the job done is such an issue.”

Megatron fumes above you, pacing next to your side again. You ignore him for the most part, beating down old feelings of warmth and safety he used to bring. He was a different bot now, and so were you. Nothing between you was there, made obvious by his clear disregard for you. You were a means to an end now, nothing but a tool to be used to further hurt Optimus and his fight for the wrong freedom.

“You know what I don’t understand?” Megatron starts again, scowling down at your hapless form. You don’t bother to respond before he starts again, his anger rising and voice growing heavier. He continues to pace, stomping around your head like it would fix all of his problems. “You say you agree with me on the fundamentals, yet you still side with the Prime. You side with the system that ground us down until we were broken and then still demanded more. Sentinel was a traitor and a liar who betrayed our kind. And you still follow his lead.”

“I follow Optimus’s lead, actually.”

The glare that comment earned you could have burnt straight through your frame, his face scrunched up and filled with more hostility than a single bot should be able to possess. His eyes glowed brighter in the dark, his face now leering over your own.

“Do not say that traitor’s name in front of me. He is the same as Sentinel. They’re all the same. True freedom won’t be accomplished until they and every single bot that dares share their ideals are dead.”

The sound of his cannon extending surprises you at first, the warm glow of death casting over your frame. You couldn’t find yourself to be scared as you stare down the barrel of the cannon. It was there, somewhere, but not enough to make you tremble nor react in any significant way. You knew this would happen eventually. Whether now or later down the line, you’d die in this petty war.

“Any last words, Autobot?” He snarls. You stare at him for a second before letting your helm fall back, refusing to show fear.

“Good-bye, D-16.”

He doesn’t wait long for you to speak before you can feel the blast burning through your chest, consuming your spark and your entire being with it. The aching pain from your frame halts, letting you be surrounded in a cold unfeeling. Your optics sputter for a moment more before shutting, letting you fall into the arms of Cybertron itself.

[icedb1ackcoffee]

to my fellow creatives: never stop making art. art is an act of protest.

[ladywaterfall]

I wish all the tiktok and Instagram «tutorials» that wildly cut on the beat and show what they do so fast you can’t follow because then you have to repeat watch multiple times which games the algorithm a very merry stop

[carrionfourth]

I log onto tumblr dot com, and the lefties are consuming propaganda and misinformation again. guys I am so so fucking tired. I'm begging. you are not immune to propaganda and misinformation just bc they fit your politics, PLEASE. I'm not going to go into it but I just. I do not have the energy in me to argue about it but for the love of god I cannot take it anymore. every day that passes I grow to hate online activism more and more. it's a fucking joke. it's people playing at moral superiority through any means. ethics? who ever heard of those. I am breaking at the fucking seams at this stage

[pixelsjoy]

Me playing Tears of the Kingdom: As much as I miss the champions, it makes sense they're not mentioned much. It's been a hundred years since they died. Even if they survived the Calamity, most of them would probably be dead at this point. The only exception being Mipha, who would have been the only one that would still be alive if she survived the calamity due to her age. The reason they're still remembered so much in Breath of the Wild is because the Divine Beasts, one of the last remaining connections to them, are still active and looming in Hyrule. Impa also said that their spirits feel uneasy knowing their task of defeating the Calamity wasn't done. They were at peace when the Calamity was defeated and passed on. They're not brought up from that point on because them and their era are over and can be laid to rest.

Also me playing Tears of the Kingdom: - holding back tears - Damn I miss the champions

[mitzvahmelting]

in retrospect, timmy turner was right to wish for guava juice

(that's a fairly uncommon flavor in the U.S., so I never really knew what it was when i was younger except that it seemed like some kind of exotic or expensive treat in the context of the other lyrics of that song. but i had guava juice for the first time when i was in Mexico as an adult and it was a transformative experience. if i had fairy godparents i would also wish for that.)

(this post brought to you by: the guava gelato i just had at the farmer's market)

[lebrookestore]

oh girl what the fuck

[doozclops]

I hope people understand that when I spam posts begging people to please throw me a dollar if they like my photography, it's not out of greed. I'm not trying to amass this huge wealth, I'm trying to afford things I've spent months saving up for. Months I spend getting 0 dollars and 0 cents towards.

I end up having to sell my possessions or spend money given to me as a gift by friends or family to buy things I need for my Art.

Most people can't even be assed to give me One Dollar ($1). So I make sure to remind people as often as I can in hopes that maybe someone will give something.

[victorluvsalice]

Valicer Calendar Finale: OTP To OT3

Happy New Year's Eve, everyone! It's time to talk about the final date on the Valice (r) Calendar post I made to celebrate 15 years of shipping my Valice OTP, and two years of shipping the Valicer OT3! So what's the significance of New Year's Eve to my OTP/OT3?

Well, it's basically the date I feel like my OTP became an OT3. XD This is basically how it all went down at the end of 2021, when I first learned about The Smiler coaster:

December 26th: I watch "One Night In Alton Towers" with my parents (a show where comedians Josh Widdicombe and Alex Brooker, accompanied by a guest comedian -- in this case it was Roisin Conaty -- spend the night at whatever UK attraction happens to be in the title) and see the fabled theme park in action for the first time. The show itself does NOT contain the group going on The Smiler (I believe the entrance is shown briefly in a montage, but the X-Sector ride they actually hit is Oblivion), but my family and I are intrigued and start looking up videos showing what riding the coaster feels like. Along the way, we discover The Smiler, and while we don't watch a video on it...

December 27th: I am sufficiently intrigued that the next day, my birthday, I start looking up stuff about it in earnest.

I quickly discover that the "brainwashing machine designed to make people permanently happy" theme is, uh, "relevant to my interests." XD Cue me going on a binge on YouTube and tumblr looking up the coaster, its history, its lore, and it's fandom, and getting pretty well obsessed. XD

December 28th: New coaster obsession continues, and I get the idea that I could use it in one of my private little snippets about Victor and Alice having a hypnokinky relationship. After all, I'm pretty sure Victor would like to be brainwashed to be happy, the poor anxious noodle! I start coming up with various scenarios in my head regarding Victor and Alice visiting the park and riding the coaster and using the theming to have some more saucy fun later to add to one of my private docs later, which get gradually more complicated as I look up more and more stuff...

December 29th: And by the very next fucking day, a certain anxious noodle has come up with his own AU within my AU where the coaster has an AI behind it and he and Alice are in a relationship with it. Specifically it's him doing art of that scenario in my AU where, you know, the coaster is just A FUCKING COASTER. I'm like, "excuse me, I'm trying to write down this completely normal scenario where you and Alice just have fun with the coaster theme! What is this bullshit where you want to fuck the roller coaster?"

He is unrepentant.

December 30th: "...would you like me to make the coaster human, because it occurs to me I could do that in Sims 4."

Victor: "I would not object."

December 31st: I've already come up with three different Smilers for three different AUs (the original Modern AU, the VTMB Malkavian!Smiler, and the FO4 Robot/Eldritch Horror!Smiler) and wondering how I completely lost it so freaking fast. XD

Sooo -- yeah. That was the point where I knew this was going to be a Thing. XD (And I hadn't even come up with Smiler's actual human design yet! That was nine days later!) Two years in, and it is still a Thing, as you are all very much aware. XD Here's to my bizarre Things, and the ships that were created from them! I hope to get much enjoyment from them for years to come.

[crayonurchin]

I got the job :)

[metallteeff]

still thinking about this tweet i saw this morning that was like guys petscop is bad bc the creator based it off a real case and like yea that was shitty. we shouldn’t let him forget he fucked up with that but then people were all like this is why i never liked petscop petscop is soooo bad and i’m just kind of like. okay.

like you guys realize really impactful art can have shitty production behind it or like be hard to consume right. idk this isn’t about what tony did or like defending him it jisy very much seemed like i’m going to hate this thing now bc of this fucked up thing in its production and it was clear the ppl saying that really had never watched petscop idk

[vampirehowl]

ik its actually because you have to actually read and put a significant amt of effort in comparatively to like know enough abt mina and gideon to enjoy them over katya so the fan spaces for them are smaller compared to katya but the fact that gideon is the ONLY butch on the ENTIRE bracket and shes still is only getting just under 1/3rd of a three way poll (although thats still significant considering the popularity of goncharov) is. well it just brings me a lot of questions i guess abt the types of characters ppl are more willing to support over others

[thebibliosphere]

Speaking of therapy, I say, as though we're old friends, and you're not a stranger trapped in this metaphorical elevator with me and you can hear the suspension wires starting to fray.

I've been doing a lot of work recently that's focused on imposter syndrome and the feeling that no matter how well or how much I do, I'm not good enough. That I'm somehow tricking everyone into thinking my work is actually good.

Some days it's a minor niggle in my head that I can gentle and soothe with logic and affirmations. Or smother, depending on the mood. Other times it's loud and all-consuming and the mental anguish it causes me is so real I can feel it twitching in my muscles. This desperate fight-or-flight instinct with nowhere to go and nothing to fight but myself.

Anyway, because I'm several types of Mentally Unwell™, I was switching between workshop sheets ahead of next week. Filling in different forms. (Trying to get a good grade in therapy) And I got my "recognize your harmful ADHD coping mechanisms" worksheet mixed in with the "you're not actually lying to people, you just feel like you are because your brain is full of weasels" worksheet, and seeing them side by side made something go topsy turvy in my head, and I just had to sit and breathe for a couple of minutes until the urge to scream passed. Because it clicked, it all suddenly clicked.

The reason the imposter syndrome workshops and therapy sessions aren't sticking was because I do routinely trick people into thinking I'm someone I'm not.

Because I'm masking my ADHD for their convenience.

I've always known there was something wrong with me. My neurotypical peers made it abundantly clear I didn't fit in or was failing in some way I couldn't see nor remedy, no matter how hard I tried.

So I compressed myself into a workaholic box of hyper-competence in the hopes they'd stop noticing the flaws and exploit like me instead. And then subsequently lived with the daily fear that if they looked too close, they'd realize I'm a monumental fuck up with enough personal baggage to block the Suez Canal.

If you ever need someone to burn themselves to ashes for your comfort and convenience, I'm your gal.

Or I used to. Until I had a bit of a breakdown, and the rubber band holding my brain together snapped and pinged off into the stratosphere, never to be seen again.

Unfortunately, the trauma of living like that didn't also fuck off and instead left a gaping maw where my personality ought to be, so now I get to deal with that aftermath.

And it's that aftermath that's affecting the imposter syndrome shit. Because yes, I am hyper-competent and good at what I do-- but it doesn't feel real because that is how I mask.

And the truly frustrating thing is I am good at what I do. I am not pretending. I worked hard to be good at this. It just feels like I'm dicking around because 90% of my personality turns out to be trauma masquerading as humor in a trenchcoat, and having people genuinely like something weird I'm doing is so foreign my brain has decided it's just another form of masking.

I'm pretending to be a good author so people will think I'm a good author, and my brain thinks we are in Danger of being found out. We are in Danger, and writing is Dangerous because then people will know I'm Weird and not whatever palatable version I've presented myself as for their NT sensibilities.

Like the neurotic vampire with a raging praise kink wasn't an obvious giveaway.

Anyway. I got nothing else. Thanks for listening.

I'm going to go be very normal in another room and not stare into the abyss of my own soul for a bit.

[giannaln4]

GIANNA'S KINKTOBER '24 SEASON

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Kinktober day seven.

Dry Humping (1k words)

summary: You simply couldn't wait to be in a private place to show Lando how proud you were of him, so you decide to do it even though you are very aware of the people around you.

warnings: NSFW, +18, smut, MDNI, stablished relationship, very heavy makeout, dry humping, public sex-ish. lmk if i should add anything else!

The music that thrummed through the huge speakers was loud, and the people cheering any time a new song came were even louder. The air was so thick with coloured lights and a layer of smoke that you couldn’t quite distinguish your surroundings, and there were drunk people stumbling on their own feet anywhere you looked. Lucky for you, you found yourself in the VIP area with your boyfriend, some other drivers, and a few friends.

You were all out celebrating Lando’s newest win, and you couldn’t be happier for him, so of course you had to go out to commemorate such an achievement.

Everyone was already feeling the alcohol they had been consuming since you got there, including you two, as you found yourselves sitting on one of the bigger couches, passionately making out and him gradually placing you onto his lap. It was heavy, and you didn’t care one bit; it had gotten to the point where everyone around you disappeared, even with the loud reminders of the people that were currently around you.

The VIP area was on a high platform and was secured with side rails to avoid any incident, so whatever you had going on there couldn’t really be seen from the lower ground. That included any cameras and phones that were constantly being pointed in your direction.

All they could really see were your faces basically devouring each other, which wasn’t exactly new to the public. What they couldn’t see, however, were your hips starting to rock against Lando’s and his hands grabbing you with such force only to bring you closer to him.

As expected, you were way too out of it to fully analyse what you were doing, and if you did know and were aware of it, it was clear you didn’t care; you just wanted to show him how proud you were of his fantastic race. You came straight to the club after leaving the track, so you didn’t have any alone time afterwards, and all you got to say was “I’m so proud of you,” muffled by the hundreds of cheers coming from his team and the fans.

But that was long forgotten, and all you could do right now was hold onto his shoulders as you continued humping his hard cock still stuffed inside his pants, your combined saliva falling from your chin and into your chest as the kiss got messier. 

“You did so- so good,” you managed to say between kisses. “I can’t even describe how hot you looked coming out of the car with the number 1 cardboard in front of it.”

“Yeah?” He asked, squeezing your hips as his lips left yours, trapping your lower lip between his teeth until you were too far from his face. 

“Mhm, all I could think about was having that one finger inside me.”

“Shit, baby, you are driving me insane.”

You got closer to his ear, and with a very seductive voice, you whispered. “So you are gonna go even more insane when I tell you I’m not wearing any underwear right now.”

“Fuck.”

He held you even tighter as you started to drag your hips harder, a moan scaping his lips. Your dress was rolled up, and it was now covering only your thighs, but it was pretty obvious what you two were doing to anyone at surface level.

With your pussy being completely uncovered, the feeling of the hard fabric of his jeans was heaven to you, and the thought of all your juices going straight to his jeans, pretty much the only layer between you, made you eager to come.

One of his hands came under your dress and sneaked between your folds; he just wanted to feel you, and God, he almost let it all out when he realised how wet you were.

“So wet for me, baby.” He whimpered, leaving your core and placing his hand back on your side.

You were both feeling so desperate that he also started thrusting up into you, making the sensation for you not only better but easier. A thin layer of sweat was forming on your bodies, only adding to the hot atmosphere the club naturally had.

Luckily, your moans were being muffled by the loud music and the people around you, so no one could even hear you no matter how loud you were being, and right now, it was a little embarrassing how loud you were being.

Your legs were already getting tired, but you were so close that you knew you only had to chase your orgasm for a little longer. His hands that were previously on your hips were now everywhere, feeling every inch of any uncovered skin he could find as he moved along with you.

“Mhm, Lan.” You moaned, moving a little faster than before, making him squirm under you.

“Yeah? You gonna cum in my pants in front of all our friends?” He whispered. All you could do was nod in response, and you could feel his smirk on your neck. "I wanna rearrange your guts and turn you into a mess, baby. I’m making you all mine as soon as we are back at the hotel." 

“Ah,” another loud moan left your lips.

"You want that, don't you?" 

“Please, let’s get out of here.”

As soon as he heard you say that, his hands fell back on your hips to make you drag them even faster, harder, as his own picked up his desperate pace. He could feel your body starting to give out; that could only mean you were about to snap.

With a few more thrusts, he felt your orgasm hitting you, making you drop your head on his shoulder as he chased his own release, which came a few seconds later.

“Shit,” he whimpered as his cum stained his clothes, the warm and thick fluid coating both of you.

You pressed your foreheads together as you tried to catch your breath, a laugh escaping both of you as you came down from your high. 

“We can never come back here,” Lando whispered as he kissed you again. Not as desperate, but just as hungry for more. 

“Are you done-?” You heard Oscar yell above the noise as he came close to you, making both of you look at him in pure embarrassment as Lando pushed you off his lap, revealing his cum-stained jeans. “Oh my God, you are done... Okay, we are getting out of here.”

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