#dont tell me im wrong i can't handle that

[certifiedsexed]

i dont know if this is the right place to go but im so lost why do i have crying meltdowns when my boyfriend turns down sex? it makes me feel disgusting and like im pressuring him to sleep with me, but i would never and thats not my intention. I just get filled with an overwhelming feeling of rejection and disappointment that it hurts physically

I know this may sound hurtful. That's not my intention. I mean this genuinely, in the kindest way possible but it may be that one of the main reasons you have crying meltdowns when your boyfriend turns down sex is that you are not in a space where you should currently be having sex.

It sounds like you have a very strong reaction to what you view as a rejection. I don't know if that's a general thing or just a sex thing but clearly, it's an issue you need to work on. It's not an unheard of issue-What you're describing is word-for-word something that plenty of people who have RSD [Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria] deal with regularly.

But if it's causing you to have meltdowns when your boyfriend turns down sex, it might be a good idea to stop putting yourself in that situation until you've got a better handle on all of it.

That should definitely start with sitting down with your boyfriend and thoroughly discussing with him, "Hey, I have this issue but it's not me trying to pressure you," and listening to his feelings about it and seeing where to go from there.

But from there, you have a lot of options. Therapy, generally exposing yourself to rejection to build yourself up, learning more about how to manage your reactions, etc, that's up to you.

I can't tell you exactly why you have those meltdowns but I can tell you that some people feel things very intensely. And sometimes we can't control our exact reaction to those feelings.

That's not something that makes you evil. Often, there's nothing wrong with feeling things strongly, even if you express them in ways other people view as "inappropriate" or "strange."

But sometimes, it's something you need help with! Like when it's so intense you're feeling physical pain because of something repeatedly! Or when it might interfere with your boyfriend's ability to consent properly. That's definitely an issue you need help with. But it doesn't make you evil.

Not sure how helpful this is, Anon. But let me know if you have any other questions. <3

[eclarinet]

same soup... different day

[britneyshakespeare]

He won't leave my fucking friends alone.

[fallowtail]

i try not to let it get to me but the knowledge i am always going to be The Stupid One in every situation i’m in just…really, really sucks. sigh. oh well. i stay silly :3c

[mrfoox]

Once I learn the difference between me having a crush and me being (hyper)fixated on a person, it's all over

[hauntingblue]

Skypiea time

Robin saying that because I know she only got on a ship to then leave it...

Nami sees Conis and gets sanji out of there so SHE can talk to her akdhksajka not a single second lost

Hello my favourite panel of nami maybe ever

Sillies...

CHOPPER YOU ARE THE CUTEST

Robin throws this guy off a cliff and to make just to make sure she breaks his neck too akdjsksk who is doing it like her???

OMG ACE!!!! IT IS TIME!!!!

[seiwas]

@augustinewrites @mysugu @soumies

he doesn't mean to make you sad, you know that. it's just that, when atsumu's upset it becomes everyone's problem—yours especially.

you don't know how it starts. atsumu had been bouncing off the walls just a moment ago, drunk off of booze and the afterglow of victory. you don't know which one of his teammates had invited her to the after-party, just that right now, you can't help but hate them.

it's just for a second, but you catch it. the way his eyes immediately dim, how his hand falters around yours. you don't want to jump to conclusions, but it's obvious—atsumu's in love with her. painfully so.

he drops your hand as if burnt and turns away, letting himself be carried off into another conversation. atsumu laughs loud enough to be heard over the music, a deafening house mix that thuds through your chest like a second heartbeat. anyone else might not spare him a second glance, but you know that when atsumu laughs that loud there's something he's trying to hide. then, as if remembering that you're still there, atsumu turns over his shoulder. you answer before he can ask the question.

"no no, go ahead. go have fun!"

atsumu tilts his head, though you know he's only asking to be polite. "are you sure?"

you smile. "no worries."

it's a bold-faced lie, but atsumu's never been that good at paying attention. he returns your smile with an excited nod, letting himself be led away by the shoulders. "don't go anywhere!" he shouts, though you know later on he'll forget to come find you. that's the way it always is. always has been.

you nurse your drink against your chest—water, you don't have the stomach tonight—and try to look on the bright side, if there is one. atsumu had been the one to invite you, hadn't he? and though you're still "just friends", he'd held your hand earlier, so that has to count for something, right?

it's useless. you down your water in one go, figuring that if you treat it like alcohol it might work like it is. it doesn't, and now you're alone at this party with an empty cup and an even emptier hand.

you sigh and snake your way out of the kitchen, making your way up the stairs to the first door that opens. the upstairs is off-limits, but you hope that whoever owns this room is drunk enough to be forgiving. you don't even bother to turn on the lights, and instead flop backwards onto the bed. you feel the music downstairs rather than hearing it, a steady thump-thump-thump that shakes through you from head to toe.

you close your eyes, trying very hard not to think about atsumu and the girl he's still in love with downstairs. it's not your place to be bothered, that you know, but something in your chest still aches at the thought. you've loved atsumu since before he met her, after all. it's a shame he hasn't noticed. or maybe he's not noticing on purpose, which is considerably worse.

"woe is me," you say to no one, your voice biting with sarcasm. you're not shocked at how things are turning out, moreso that you thought it'd turn out any differently. with a sigh, you close your eyes. atsumu will find you eventually. and if he doesn't, then someone else will. you'd rather be cursed at for trespassing than anywhere downstairs, faking a smile as you wait for atsumu like a well-trained dog. at least here you can lick your wounds in private.

you don't know how much time has passed when you feel something press into your side, warm and solid. arms wrap around you: one slung over your waist, the other snaking its way under your head. you turn in confusion, seeing nothing in the dark.

whoever's holding you down reeks heavily of liquor, and their arm feels like a dead weight around you. when you try to pull it off they hold onto you tighter, mumbling something incoherent under their breath. "um, hey," you say loudly, voice hoarse with sleep. "get off of me."

the person beside you stirs, and the bed dips slightly as they prop themselves up. they mumble your name under their breath, and in the dark you can make out the vague outline of a face.

with a start, you realize you recognize that voice. "...osamu?"

he lies back down, bringing you along with him. "h-hey," you start to protest, but osamu's grip grows stronger in response.

"don't leave," he mumbles, as you try to sit up.

"but—"

"m'head hurts. shhh." osamu shushes you, curling up against your side. his hair tickles the side of your reddening cheek.

"hey, osamu." you try to move out from under his arm again, to no avail. "you're really drunk."

"and?" he counters, pulling you closer, almost possessively. "just pretend for a little while."

that catches you off guard. "pretend?"

"it's dark, so it's easier," osamu refuses to elaborate. "c'mon. it's my birthday."

"osamu, your birthday's in october."

"is it?" there's an uncharacteristic cheekiness to osamu's voice, one that makes you turn your head towards him in surprise. you can't see him, but you can tell from the warmth that his face is only inches away. "well it's somebody's birthday, somewhere."

something touches your cheek—osamu's hand? no, his face. somewhere near his chin, guessing by the stubble that scratches your skin. "just do me a favor and pretend i'm him," osamu says, and in that moment he sounds scarily sober.

"wh-what?" you can't help the way your mouth hangs open at the request, your stomach feeling like it's about to drop out of you.

"you heard me," osamu mumbles, back to being drunk again. "pretend i'm him. you know what i mean."

"you—what—that's not—"

"am i wrong?" osamu presses, raising his voice like he's imitating his brother. it works. osamu's fingers trace across your face, reading the shock on your face like braille. you turn your head and press your nose to his neck—no cologne, only the soft smell of skin. it can't be atsumu, but for a moment, you're fooled.

osamu tilts his head and sighs, slow and sweet. and when his lips brush your forehead, it's like everything you've ever dreamed. "i'm right," he breathes, nestling his head against your shoulder. it's not a question anymore, but a fact. "i'm right," he sing-songs, still painfully drunk.

"osamu—"

a hand covers your mouth, warm and firm. softer than atsumu's, and just a bit bigger. "don't say my name like that," he whispers, his voice hot against the shell of your ear, "say it the way you say his."

you swallow an audible gulp. "osa—osamu?" you try again.

osamu shakes his head. needy hands pull you in by the waist. you feel osamu's lips kiss up the side of your neck. "not like that," he murmurs.

"o-osa...mu..." you're breathless and dizzy. you feel osamu's smile against the underside of your jaw.

"better," he grins, and this time, his lips find yours.

it ends before you can even react. osamu pulls away with a shaky exhale, as if he's slowly waking from a dream. his eyes shine back at you in the dark, wide and unblinking.

he opens his mouth to speak. "i—"

"you're drunk," you say immediately, and push him away by the chest.

osamu doesn't let you. he brings his hands over yours and keeps them there, and under the thin cotton of his shirt you feel his heart beating rabbit-fast. "so? i'll still want you when i'm sober."

his words choke your own out of your throat. "osamu...i can't—"

"so don't. don't do anything. just stay the night." there's a desperation in his words that makes your stomach flip. osamu holds onto you like he's afraid to let go. "please."

it's late, and you're tired. atsumu's in love with someone that isn't you, but osamu's arms are warm enough to make you forget. you think to yourself: is it selfish if he's willing? are you cruel for wanting to pretend?

you wrap your arms around his neck and osamu relaxes, melting into you the same way butter does on toast. he's soft, comforting. familiar, but not the same. osamu's lips brush on your neck again and the impact shudders through your spine like electricity. he takes his hands and rubs them over your arms, thinking that you're cold. you don't want to tell him that in reality you're burning up, feeling hot everywhere he touches.

"thank you," osamu murmurs into your hair.

"for what?"

"stayin'."

and when osamu kisses you a second time, you don't have the heart to push him away.

[inkskinned]

im having a particularly terrible night with urges and imagery that i dont know how to handle. i gave in to some things. held back on some others. but im barely holding on, dear internet stranger.

you do not owe me your time or your words.. but if you could write some hope into existence for me.. i would be unendingly grateful to you.

please. tell me how you do it. tell me how you survive. because im not so sure i can get through the fifteen days it'll take to get to my seventeenth birthday.

could you please give me something to place my faith in? i dont think the universe is watching out for me anymore.

i don't usually answer these, because i am not a professional, and you deserve professional help. when i was 17 i was terrified of the idea of professional help, because my household was extremely unsafe, and made it clear that if i ever chose to get help, i would be punished for it.

i hope this is not your case. i hope that you can call someone, and they can take you where you should go.

but i will give you the advice that i wish i got, when i couldn't get help at 17, when i was so bad that years later, i literally don't-know-how-i-survived it: what you want is peace, not death. your brain is sick. it has romanticized an ending where there are no consequences. where effort isn't necessary. where you can just... forget.

you want peace. that is a normal, human thing to want. maybe it feels more like you want quiet. or just... to take a break for a second.

here is what i will say: to end yourself means you never get to experience what it's like to actually be happy. i thought i knew what it was like, and i was bitter about it. i'd say - i've been happy, it's not worth it, because i didn't know what i was missing. i thought that happiness meant having a partner or having a job or money or a college degree. it sounded like effort. it sounded like something that had to happen to me.

for the first time in my life, just this week, i was able to go to a concert and just-enjoy-it. no liquor, no drugs. just stomping my feet and getting caught up in it. i didn't feel nervous or self-conscious or overwhelmed. i just had a good time. these days have a lot of these firsts for me - it is the first time i can eat cake without crying. it is the first time i can be around an exacto blade without supervision. it is the first time i have too many people to call when i am crying.

i can't tell you where you'll run into happiness, only that, for me, it started once i was out of that fucking house. it started once i figured out where the pain was coming from. once i figured out that i was not possessed, something medical was wrong with me. that i am not stupid or lazy, i have depression and adhd. the first few years were difficult. at 19, during my efforts to recover, i actually got worse by a considerable margin. and then, with time and patience - i got better.

happiness doesn't feel like what you think it will. in movies it's so golden and all-encompassing. but it doesn't fly into your hands when you buy your first car nor does it arrive in the arms of a partner nor does it require passing your classes. happiness came to me on a tuesday in the form of a red-winged blackbird, and i looked at her, and she looked at me, and i said - oh. the whole world suddenly filled itself in with color. like i had been forever-asleep. like every corner of every room was suddenly glistening.

it ended quickly, back then. it just stopped in to check in on me. but it was enough - this thing i had never experienced, but that i knew (logically) could happen. before that, i was only staying because it would make my mom sad if i died. that was my only reason. and then the happiness came, so strange and brilliant and lovely that for years i couldn't even look at it directly.

these days, things are so different. life is so much easier. i don't wish for death because so much of what i have is already at peace. my boss understands when i need a mental health day. people in general are less prone to high school drama. entire communities hold my hand and have my number. i have a car and a dog and a little apartment garden and candles on all available surfaces and today i bought myself a little cake just-to-celebrate-nothing. my body is my own and we are both dancing.

there are so many things i've gotten to taste in the last 10 years. i know, for you, that is an eon, because it's more than half of your life. but if it helps? in the 5 years between 17-21: i filled myself with laughter and love. i got to be a lead in a ballet and got my first tattoo and then my second and pierced my ears the way i'd wanted to (one of them professionally the other over a hot stove with a potato) and i discovered hozier is my favorite singer (i know. he was new back then) and i got my first real job and my first real paycheck and i hadn't ever been seen as smart but then i started to actually treat my adhd as a condition rather than a burden and people started saying you're like the smartest person in the room and my best friend met her husband who i will one day stand next to as maid of honor when he is her groom and i got to help people and make a stupid blog called "inkskinned" and find out that writing is actually my passion and that maybe i'm actually kind of good at it if i just practice and i got to meet my parents' dog (his name is kaiju) and i slept on couches and kissed people and tried new things and learned how to breathe without feeling my chest tighten and that peace is here, on this planet, that peace echoes everywhere, it is in my hair and my homework and my houseplants, it is quiet and divine and mine because i fought for it and i built it and yes i lost hair over it but holy shit the whole world feels like it is shifted through a sunbeam

recently someone asked me if i could go back in time to 6th grade, with all the knowledge i have now, would i? and without thinking, i barked absolutely not. i know i should say it's because i wouldn't want to risk losing any of this stuff - but really it's because i would never survive being a teenager again. it sounds incredibly lame and impossible, fake - but being a teenager was the hardest thing i ever did. i had no voice, no control, only fear and hatred.

but i did survive it. nothing about me is special. nothing about me is stronger than you or better prepared or more efficient. i didn't survive it perfectly. i made a lot of mistakes and lost a lot of friends and harmed myself in ways that i'm still recovering from. but i did survive it. and there is a part of me looking at you in the past and saying - i'm you in the future.

and holy shit. every day. every goddamn day i'm glad we survived to see the rest of it. because you hit 18 and everything changes. like, everything. and holy shit, it is infinitely worth it.

[meowpupp]

Omg i had read the numbing cream price fic with puppy reader awhile ago and i had the thought of maybe puppy reader being scared to fuck price after cause she thinks he will make her numb again (im not sure if that makes sense) you dont have to do this its just a little thought i had cause im a slut for angst with smut at the end

tw:// none? price is being a tease. hickies, hybrid smut, fem reader

it's always after the more intense punishments that price feels bad. you're just so sweet and soft, he can't help it. but something about your big teary eyes as you whimper and whine around his cock twists his morals. gummy walls clenching his thick shaft tight as you cry, reduced to tears as you take it. 

but its only a couple days after that it hits price. he was a little too mean. you've been skittish, squirming away from his touch, brushing him off. its only once he has you under him, pretty body naked and exposed for him, that he realises. you're nervous, worried his punishment may be the new norm. 

instead, price hums, listening to every wobbly word. after you're done, he sighs, squeezing you gently. "Im sorry sweetheart, i was a little too mean, wasn't i?" his hand snakes down, teasing the waistband of your panties. "bet i left your poor little cunt all needy hm?"

his beard scratches your neck as he kisses your jaw. he pulls away, a hand cupping your cheek, the other next to your head to support himself. his voice is a low purr, thick with lust and greed. "what's wrong pup?" his hand trails, curling around the back of your neck, thumb brushing your jaw, "words, now."

and on command, you spill. words nervous and small as you tell him how you don't want to be numb again. how your ache to feel his thick, veiny cock stretching you out. you miss the sting from when he first fills you, the fullness you feel as he rutts into you. it takes everything in him not to fuck you then and there, fill your poor neglected cunt with more cock than it can handle. but he doesn't.

his fingers dip beneath the fabric, brushing your mons. His eyes meet yours, intense, stormy blue staring into you, "want me to kiss it better?" he almost laughs at the loud, needy wine you let out, how your thighs tense as you soak your panties. your body squirms under his, hips bucking and back arching. you crave him. his thick, rough fingers. his masculine, musky scent. his deep growly voice. everything is so him, so engulfing, and he knows you need it.

price continues to tease, leaving a line of hot, sloppy kisses down your sternum, then your tummy. he takes his time, exploring every dip and curve. your body is like an art piece, something he wants to admire. price stains your skin with lovebites and hickies, marking the soft flesh as his. He leaves no inch untouched, ensuring that you feel the sharp nip of his teeth and scratch from his beard all over. 

his fingers continue to tease. his left traces your slit, fingers only dipping in deep enough to make them slick and sticky. the other pins your hips to the bed, making sure you can't escape his slow torture. he grins and laughs against your skin, the sensation sending a shiver up your spine. He can feel the dull throb of your needy cunt, how you're only getting wetter, whiner. 

"where do you need me, sweet girl?" he kisses your sternum, right between your soft tits "here?" his head tilts, waiting a moment, feigning innocence as you squirm and whine, "what about here, hm? deep in your pretty tummy? rearranging your guts?" his eyes are sharp as they watch you, burning the image of you so desperate into his mind. 

he chuckles, the sound vibrating against the sensitive skin of your pelvis. price lowers his head, taking his time. his beard scratches the inside of your thighs, breath ghosting your clothed cunt. he takes a moment to admire you. flushed and needy, legs spread for him, hands scratching at his hair as you try to pull him closer. if he could, he'd keep you like this forever. desperate for his cock, for relief from the fire in he started in your gut. 

He finally relents, kissing your clothed clit "or maybe here, hm? tell me puppy, words."

taglist; @titaniasfairy (anyone else just send an ask to my inbox or comment n I'll add you)

[alexias-left-foot]

Benção

Ive been writting this one for a while.

!Dont know if i will keep writting on this universe

Wrote this one while listening to a portuguese song, (dont ask please), link below

!Im not english, so im sorry for any spelling mistake!

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You know, she is probably still mad at me- you said to Mapi and Ingrid while making your way to the dressing room- If i tell her she won't probably talk to me ever again.

Cmon she knows you y/n! She has to understand that there is something more important going on. You have to tell her or she is going to break up with you. You can't hide it anymore. You have been so stressed, she is going to notice even more- Ingrid answered you.

You “have a kid”. Not you, but your ex. Your ex was pregnant 1 YEAR AND A HALF AGO! Now you have a kid with 9 months . Before you both broke up, almost 2 years ago, you both were trying to have a baby but it never worked, at least you thought that. Turns out you were wrong! She was pregnant all this damn time, had a kid and didn't tell you anything till last night. 

Last week after your away easy win 6-0 against Valencia she, and your baby, were in the public. She asked you to talk with her, which was clearly strange. Then she told you that the kid that was sleeping like a little angel was yours. She also told you all of a story but you just did not pay any attention to her still in shock looking at the sleepy kid in the grey pram. She told you that didn't want the baby anymore and wanted to give the kid up for adoption and wanted to inform you about it. You were arguing with her and ended up saying that you would stay with the sleepy baby. She was a bit shocked but agreed and told you you have a couple of weeks till you have to go get the baby or the baby was going to be adopted. You just agreed and said that will keep in touch.

Ona saw you both talking and, of course didnt like it, mainly cause of the love story you and your ex had. She was really jealous and didnt talked to you until you were both at home. Where you both fought because  she was jealous of your ex. She clearly made some movies on her head but you didnt want to keep arguing with her, it was a long day and you were so tired, so you just slept on the couch so you could get your head cleared.

 Things got a bit better but you didn't tell her, not yet. Only Mapi and Ingrid know about it, they are your best friends and you needed to talk to someone so you talked to them. They were clearly in shock when you told them that but decided to help you. That's what they are trying to do now.

“Now let's go to practice so you can clear your mind a bit, vale”?- Mapi sayed while squeezing your cheek

Practice was fine but you weren't really present there, which made your teammates worried 

“You need to tell her” Mapi said in the locker room. Mapi was right. You needed to tell her.

After a ride home that looked like an eternity, you were both at home. 

You were both watching some trash tv when she breaked the weird silence.

“Hey, what's going on? You´ve been a bit strange since you talked with your ex” Ona said with a worried look. “I have something to tell you, bebé, I just don't know how to tell you” You said while the brunette looked with an even more worried look “I-I have a baby. I didn't knew it, my ex told me after the game against Valencia, that's what we were talking about. She wanted to give the baby up for adoption, but I just couldn't tell her to do it, when I looked at that little baby sleeping in such an innocent cute way. I didn't knew what to do or say to you, i'm so so sorry…” you gasped and took your eyes full of tears out of the  floor to look at Ona who looked at you in shocked “You have a-a Kid?” she repeated while you nodded “And the kid is going to live with us” you nodded again. A minute of silence was made by both of you. Both of your hearts pumping fast 

“I think I can handle that '' she smacked your arm, with a soft small smile on oour face, joking at you who were in  tears by now. 

She looked a bit unsure because of her smile being so small, but you just hugged her in a really sad but sweet hug. 

“ Hey, hey, stop crying, okay you whiny? I'm here, I'm gonna help you through this, okay mi amor?I love you!” She was still making fun of you but she was as scared as you. It was her way to defend herself, being sarcastic and funny but you loved it even if it makes never be sure if she is scared or not.

“I love you too Oni, thanks for being here…” You managed to say while tears were rolling down your face and starting to get Ona´s eyes.

[littlestsheriff]

mama's little sheriff

paring: mama! cait x masc regressor! reader

summary: sometimes being a big boy just it doesn't work and caitlyn knows that

tags: agere, age regression, cg! caitlyn kiramman, regressor reader, comfort, comfort itens, boyre, boy regressor, sfw, fluffy, sheriff caitlyn, reader regressed around 2-4

autor notes: it's my first regressor reader fic in a while, i hope you like it :)) credits for lottiesboy and criblver for the style! if u want to check, i already have another fanfics on my wattpad :]

You knock on the door and enter carefully. Caitlyn is focused on talking to some enforcers, discussing some important information. But out of the corner of her eye, she notices you and signals for you to enter the room. You're visibly upset about something and she picks up on it. The conversation seems to go on forever, but she assures you that it's already over. Once the enforcers have left the room, she gets up from her chair and walks towards you.

"Darling, what's wrong? You seems a little upset. Is there something bothering you?"

Anxiety takes over your body, you can't respond except for a nervous glance at Caitlyn. She gently puts her hands on your face, trying to calm you down.

"It's alright sweetie. You can tell me what's upsetting you. Im here to help you, you know that, right?"- She says in her soft voice.

You hesitate, but Caitlyn's gentle gaze makes your heart calm and you nod.

"It's because... I failed. I'm sorry"- You say with a sad look in your face.

Her heart melts as she listens you. She gentle places her hand on your shoulder.

"Sweetheart, it's okay. Everyone make mistakes. We all fail sometimes. What happened, my darling boy?"

"I supposed to be a big boy now, but i can't even do that... I failed with you"- You try your best to not let yourself slip

Caitlyn's heart aches at your words. Her maternal instincts kick in seeing you so vulnerable and little. She pulls you into a hug, holding you close to her, feeling how little you are at the moment.

"Oh my love, don't say that. You've never failed to me, never. I know sometimes is too difficult to be a big boy, isn't it?"

You dont answer, just nods with a sad puppy face. Her heart aches even more, trying to sooth you, stroking your hair.

"It's okay, baby. You don't need to be big all the time. Sometimes you just need a little time"- She says with a tender gaze. "You're feeling small now, that's my priority. I can take a break and stay with you, okay darling?"

You feel the guilt sinking into your chest. Caitlyn would have to take time off work to look after you and that makes you feel guilty.

"But mam- Cait, im supposed to be a big boy"

Her heart aches as she listens to you, she gentle cups your face, caressing your cheek with her thumb.

"Shhh, baby. There's no supposed to be anything. You don't have to be big if you can't. Somtimes It's doesn't work and that's okay, alright? You don't have to force yourself to be big if you're feeling so little. Mama is always here for you, my love"

She pulls you into a embrace, gentle rocking you. And you two stay in that silent embrace, but it is cozy.

"Okay, baby boy, now let youserlf completely slip into your little headspace, alright? Mama's here to take care of you"

"But mama, and what if one of your enforcers see me regressed? I can't let myself slip here"

"Oh, i got it sweetheart. I understand why you're worried. But don't worry, no one will barge in or catch you in your little boy mode, i promise you. But even if they do, mama will handle it. I'll keep my kid safe"

Seeing your mama's confidence makes you feel better, less worried. You can't help but chuckle

"Using your sheriff power again mama, how naughty"

Caitlyn chuckles, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischievousness

"You know me too well, right, baby boy? Of course I'll use my sheriff power if i've to. I'm not gonna let anyone mess with my kiddo, no metter where we are or who sees us. Mama's a sheriff, and also a Kiramman, no one can mess with her"- She gives a cheeky smile to you. "And we can lock the door, it will give us more privacity and you can be my adorable little boy. Mama will use her sheriff power and no one will disturb us"- She says, smiling to you.

She take some steps until the door and lock it, then back to you. Your eyes wander to your backpack near the couch, remembering what you brought with you.

"I brought something"

Caitlyn follows your gaze to the backpack near to the couch, and her curiosity is piqued.

"Oh, you brought something with you? What is inside the bag, my love? Show mama. I'm curious to see what you have"

You walk over to the backpack, pick it up and open it, revealing what's inside, some of your regression gear. Caitlyn takes some steps closer.

"Oh, my prince, you brought your gear with you? That's so sweet. You want to choose by yourself or do you want mama to pick for you?"- She says with her voice filled with affection.

You look to her with your puppy face and she knew you started to regress further.

"Mama choose"

She smiles gently and nods

"Of course, prince. Mama will pick for you. I know what my baby boy needs"

She glances through the itens, carefully considering each item. Then, she selects a blue pacifier and a puppy plush. Caitlyn gently lifts the paci between your lips, slipping it into your mouth. Then she hands the plush to you.

"Here you go, baby. All comfy now?"- She gentle asks, with a maternal tone.

You nod and she smiles to you. She sits on her chair and pats her lap, signaling to you come to her lap.

"Come here, baby boy!"

You runs to her and sits in her lap excited. She can't help but chuckle with your enthusiasm.

"Here you go, my little prince. Sitting right here where you belong, in mama's lap. Let me hold you for a moment, okay?"

You nod and rests your head on her chest and she begins to rock you gently. The time seems to stop when you're in Caitlyn's lap, being wrapped in her warmth like a blanket. Then, the paperwork on her desk catch your attention, seemed a very important document. She notices your glance at her paperwork.

"You curious about mama's paperwork? Let me show you"

Caitlyn picks the document on the desk and shows to you. She explain to you the importance of her work. Then, back the paper to the desk.

"So, darling, i need to finish them, but don't worry, i'll wold you all the time and you can be my little helper and keep me company, okay?"

"I'll be a sheriff like mama?"- You ask with your eyes shinning

She can't help but chuckle. She give a kiss on your forehead, filled with affection.

"Of course you'll. Now you are a little sheriff, mama's little sheriff. Can you be a good boy for mama and stay still for me? I promise it won't take long"

You nod with a smile behind your pacifier, Caitlyn smiles back to you and kiss the top of your head. She gently adjusts you on her lap, making sure you're comfortable. She also grabs a couple of documents in one hand, while gently runs her fingers through your hair with the other hand.

She starts working through her paperwork, her focus mostly on the documents in the desk. But that doesn't mean she didn't pay attention on you, she still keeps her other hand around you, occasionally giving head pats and caresses, or murmuring sweet words and praises.

You just relax in her arms, feeling her warmth and the material of her uniform. Having you against her brings the sense of comfort she needs to concentrate on the task. When the pile of document seems smaller, she lets out a satisfied sigh.

"Almost done, my little sheriff! You don't know how much I want to cuddle with you"- She says with her voice filled with affection.

Don't let too much to her finish all the paperwork, organizing the last pile of documents. She sighs in relief, relaxing in the chair. You give a smile to her as a praise for her work.

"Good job mama!"

Caitlyn's heart melts in affection, she gives a gentle kiss on your cheek.

"And good job for being a well-behaved little boy. Thanks for being so patient to mama, made everything easier for me focus and get my work done. You're the best little sheriff"

You look at her with your big puppy eyes.

"Now we can cuddle?"

"Of course, my darling! We can cuddle as long you want. You've deserve some cuddles for being a excellent good boy! Mama loves you so much"

She gently wraps her arms around you, rocking back and forth. Sometimes being a big boy is a hard task, but that's okay, because mama is always there to make things easier.

[scoobydoodean]

losing my entire marbles at deancrits saying he's abusive bc he was parentified like????? a) do you know what parentification IS and b) tell me you dont have real problems without telling me

anw heres a pretty pic of dean w glasses that im obsessed with to help cope w all the anons

DEAN IN GLASSES!!!!

Someone just put it very very plainly in Courtney's inbox, but we all knew Dean's parentification was the force underlying the take that Dean has power over Sam... didn't we? ...I mean. I guess I can't speak for anyone else exactly, but I've written about how Dean's parentification is the driving force behind the narrative that Dean is abusive several times this year alone. In fact, before that anon clarified their meaning, I'd already done it for them.

Hardcore samgirls and others with this take on Dean seem to think Deangirls just "don't understand" the "power imbalance" in play. They think we've just never thought about their perspective, but... they actually just don't understand ours? They don't understand that what is absolutely vile and repulsive about their view is that it begins and ends with the perpetuation of Dean's childhood abuse.

One of the greatest horrors of parentification as a form of abuse is that it involves the illusion of power. It ascribes "power" to a child that that child does not actually have, and then judges that child for mishandling that "power".

"Something Wicked" is a great example of this. John blames Dean for Sam getting hurt, based on a lie that Dean had the power to stop the shtriga. In reality, Dean couldn't have done anything even if he'd been there, because the idea that he had power was nothing more than an illusion. He was far too young and inexperienced to be expected to carry through with a seasoned soldier's battle temperament when faced with a terrifying monster, but that isn't even the most direct expression of the illusion of Dean's power. His shotgun is. To harm a shtriga, you have to have iron-consecrated bullets. Dean did not have a weapon that could have harmed the shtriga. The gun only provides an illusion of power. When John blamed him, and Dean blamed himself—both did so because of a lie that Dean had power in a situation where Dean had absolutely none.

John blames Dean because he doesn't want to take responsibility for his own power and authority. He doesn't want to live with the fact that he had the knowledge, temperament, experience, role of protector, and consecrated bullets... but just wasn't there when Sam and Dean needed him. So he assigns all of the power and authority to Dean. Dean had the power. Dean made the wrong choices. Dean got Sam hurt. It wasn't John's choices or John's absence that nearly got Sam killed. John was helpless.

Every single time that samgirls claim Dean holds power over Sam through parentification, they refer to an illusion used to scapegoat a child for the actions of another. They assign Dean "power" over Sam that Dean does not actually have and then judge him for mishandling that "power".

The idea that Dean has authority over Sam through his childhood parentification is a lie. It is an illusion born from abuse. And when Sam occasionally decides he is unhappy with the outcome of the choices he made and doesn't want to face his own culpability, he does exactly what John did to Dean, because the poison drips down. Sam watched John treat Dean as if he possessed authority and power Dean didn't have for 18 years and some change. He learned how to assign Dean the same false authority and power and he learned Dean would absorb it, and now Samgirls want Dean to "curb that shit", while Sam blames Dean for his own choices in episodes like 1.10, 1.22, 5.04. In reality, there is no power imbalance.

Even if we want to argue that the false perception of Dean's power created the potential for an extremely toxic relationship regardless of whether the power is real or not, Dean would hardly be guaranteed the handle side of the knife. Sam has more than proven he can put that blade to Dean's throat.

[britneyshakespeare]

Sorry I can't stop talking about that ex-mutual who went off on me last night (well really I only made that one, really long and rambly, pretty over-repetitive post about it) but it's been like just running through my mind because of how hurtful that was from someone that on some level I did consider a friend. Not like a close friend who knows everything about me, in fact as I stated to exhaustion in that post I made earlier, the part that really got me was how much they were illustrating that they DON'T really know about me, how much they just ASSUME without ever having heard or seen confirmation from myself. And how unkind those assumptions were. But I did like them (do? I still have sympathy for them as a person and don't wish them any ill...). I cherished the thought of our online friendship we shared around the time I was 18-20ish or so, and even if we never kept in constant conversation (in fact, before I replied to their message last night, we hadn't chatted through DM since early 2021, if that's saying something). I'm sure they still did/do feel that way about me and this isn't easy on them, that they feel hurt by my posts in some way, etc. I did not go on a rant to them, though, attacking their moral character, calling them a coward who can't take criticism and refuses to learn and grow. I told them I think it's ok if we grow apart and though I still hold my differing opinions from them, it's ok to be upset at me for that. But don't bring it to me.

I would've seriously just preferred it if they unfollowed and left. All I keep thinking about these past couple of hours of marinating on it is: entitlement. I've crossed a line because I don't post about issues in the way they would like me to, and ultimately I still will be voting for Kamala Harris. They maintained that much very firmly even after I replied to their first message saying that they were putting a bunch of words in my mouth and not acknowledging how little they actually know about my views and actions in the real world, off of Tumblr; that I might have ways of caring about and engaging with things that are specifically not on my personal blog because of how toxic some zealous communities on this website can grow to be. They still felt the need to attack me at length for all the things I, in their opinion, "support" because I choose to vote for "a fascist" (meaning Harris). Their opinion that both sides are truly the same is the only logical answer and I'm not trying hard enough to be a good person if I don't agree with that. But that's what makes them presumptuous. That's not what makes them entitled.

I feel like the fact that they really did think well of me at one point, that we shared emotions and kind words with each other, that we talked about music and poetry and all sorts of matters of sensibility together, is why they felt the need to bring that to me. When we feel an attachment to someone, even someone we may be lacking a lot of information about, but there's that mutual sympathy there... we feel that we are invested in them. They (and I) felt that the two of us, as friends, reflected each other's values and sense of self. To be honest I was getting annoyed at some of their posts, too, that were basically fatalist about the US Democratic party and how nothing has ever actually changed since Tr mp left office. I simply don't agree with that analysis, and I didn't know how to sensitively bring that up with someone who I did respect and care for as an individual. They were asserting things that basically implied our views were irreconcilable; and yeah, I basically agree that if you're going to call me essentially a g n cide apologist, I don't really know how to reconcile that with you. I don't think that's what I am; they do. They discussed that because they felt that way they were no longer open to a dialogue (one which I never had brought up to them personally) in their reply to my response to their ask, and blocked me afterward. Well, I think it's ok to not be open to a dialogue. In that case, I really don't know how to defend myself. We're on two entirely different levels of interpretation if mild support of Kamala Harris's presidential campaign is seen as akin to me denying g n cide to you. If that's the angle you're approaching me with, I don't want to have a dialogue with you, either. I don't think one in good faith is possible at that point.

They got angry at me though not just for my differing opinion, but for the disappointment they felt in me for it. I ruined the Diana they had so much respect for. Their initial message reminded me so much of when fans hound celebrities to speak on particular issues they may not know anything about. But at least if you're, like, asking the lead singer of your favorite band to speak about a currently topical issue, you probably are falling back on the argument of thinking they have a higher status to their audience that they're neglecting to use for good. Or maybe they've seemed to do and say things in the past that make their current silence seem hypocritical. I don't particularly agree with the former argument, that every celebrity should use their "platform" to raise awareness for certain causes. There are some times when I think calling on a celebrity to speak on this or that specific thing is just kind of silly. I tend not to proclaim instances where I feel that way publicly, because I don't want to trivialize the issue or the fans' feelings. But there's also the parasocial hurt I've seen some people display when they suddenly interpret a person's silence, or (in their perception) 'inadequate' statements and actions, as genuine indifference. That tends to make fans actually angry, the disappointment that this person they admire could be 'doing better' but isn't. I was told by this person that I'm 'not even trying to do better' when we had never had a conversation about what I'm actually 'doing' or thinking or feeling, even a single time. They let their impression of me fester in silent resentment before finally snapping at me about all the things I never actually said to them.

I'm sure they felt like they had reached their limit of tolerating me, and reaching out was only so they could feel like they had some closure. That they had said their piece to a person they cared about but could no longer associate with. I don't think they actually considered what use their message would actually have to me. That it would be hurtful to be accused of all these moral failings by someone I used to just talk about Jane Austen books with. Someone I shared my poetry and feelings with when I was younger. They must have been feeling 'betrayed' at me for not living up to the expectations and standards they set for me, for not being the idealized friend that I must've seemed when we were in our late teen years. But I am feeling shock and confusion at the sudden void of sympathy or benefit of the doubt being directed towards me from someone I once mutually regarded somewhat highly and rather affectionately.

It didn't have to have been a deep friendship, where we shared all aspects of our life with each other, for this to be hurtful to me or for my words to have been hurtful to them. I'm sure they felt so angry at me because they do think I'm a smart and sympathetic person that they expect 'better' from. But I'm really not your confirmation bias friend. None of the sweet but somewhat shallow memories they once respected me for has to be null and void now because I'm not sufficiently radical in my politics for them. And again, I do think that they were under the impression that they knew my current thoughts and personal philosophies a lot better than they do, because of how much more of an open book I used to be on this website when we first started following each other. I never made some announcement that I was going to start being more reserved about certain things, guys, so, like, don't act like you know everything about me. Because should I have to? I don't have a "platform" or really any meaningful social status on this website. But they still thought I wasn't doing "enough" with it because they interpret my blog as being more intrinsically linked to my actual life than it is. My social status to them was the good opinion they had of me, that I soiled by disagreeing with them in principle about electoral politics.

I'm not less smart or kind than I used to be. That's really not how I make sense of people I mostly like, but who have done or said something I deplore and that disappoints me deeply. You don't have to abandon all faith in the individuals you love. People do not always make sense with your own moral compass, but you can still tell when they're not evil. And I don't think they think I'm evil. I don't think they're evil. None of the sympathy I ever had for them is gone. I'm just honestly hurt and confused. I don't understand why they thought it was appropriate to take up their issues with me in the way that they did.

And again, in every single timeline, I would rather have just been disappointed to see that a once-respected mutual has unfollowed me, after some years of growing apart and changing, than I would to be hurt by someone dramatically going off on me about how they can't be friends with me anymore because I'm just not good enough for them.

[iwaoiness]

Japan is one set ahead of Argentina, and if they win this fourth set, they'll make it to the final. However, Argentina isn’t making it easy for them, returning every point and applying pressure, especially with their blocking. Each play becomes more intense, faster, and overwhelming.

The players move with the fluidity of a river, functioning like a perfectly synchronized machine, not a single misstep. Oikawa Tooru takes a glance at the opposite side; two seconds are all he needs for his mind to plan the next move. As his libero delivers a perfect pass, Oikawa rushes under the ball and leaps into the air to set it. Hyakuzawa stays in front of him while Ushijima and Suna handle the Argentine ace. Tooru grins hungrily, drenched in sweat, and in the last second, changes his stance, sending a powerful spike that cuts through the air like an arrow.

The crowd erupts into wild cheers as the point secures the victory in this set. Oikawa is quickly swarmed by his teammates, ruffling his hair and patting him on the back in congratulations. Surrounded by his team, Tooru glances over at the Japanese bench, his lips curling into a teasing smile as his eyes lock with Iwaizumi’s, who stands with his thick arms crossed. Iwa rolls his eyes but can't hide the soft smile tugging at his lips.

A whistle blows, signaling the short break before the fifth and final set. Everyone heads to their benches, Oikawa nearly jogging with his hands clasped together. However, he stops right in front of the opposing bench, his smile widening as Hajime meets him.

"This isn’t your team, Shittykawa"

Tooru wants to send all hell, jump on him, and kiss him again until their lips ache.

"Can't my Iwa-chan handle having a VNL finalist in front of him?" he gasps dramatically, placing a hand on his chest.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes with a snort.

"That remains to be seen, idiot"

"Oh! Speaking of seeing," Tooru leans in, tilting his head as his grin stretches wider, alerting Hajime because he knows that smile all too well. "Did you see the foul in the third set?"

The athletic trainer blinks, frowning slightly in confusion.

"The fuck are you talking about? What foul?"

"You know," Oikawa purses his lips for a moment to keep from laughing, "that foul."

“Tooru, I’m sure there wasn’t any foul.”

Oikawa sighs, pouting adorably.

"Wrong! Just ask me again, Iwa-chan!"

This time, Hajime raises an eyebrow.

"Why?"

"Just ask me!" Oikawa repeats, practically vibrating with excitement.

"I swear if this is one of your stupid tricks, I’m going to—"

"Come oooon, ask meee!"

"Ugh, fine," Hajime groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What fucking foul?"

And like a tulip blooming open to the world, Tooru’s toothy smile blossoms on his face, sweet, serene, and loving.

"Fouling in love with you!"

Iwaizumi’s eyes widen, and for a second, he feels his heart stop completely before it bursts into a pounding rhythm that shakes his ribs, roars in his ears, and flutters in his stomach.

"You... You are—" Hajime, with flushed cheeks and ears, tries to say something, but he’s left opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. "How... Just... Argh, fucking damn it!" he finally curses, covering his face with both hands while Oikawa stands in front of him, laughing, loud, childlike, and affectionate.

"Don’t be shy, Hajime-chan!" Oikawa teases a little more, moving in to wrap him in a warm hug, forgetting entirely about the cameras, the fans, their teammates, the coaches, and the fact that they’re going viral (again) on social media.

...

silly thing of my silly boys cuz i need dopamine and serotonin bc my laptop decided to die 3 days ago and i had to take it to the technician and im still waiting for him to tell me if it has salvation and i HOPE it does bc in there are SEVEN years of my life (and my haikyuu fics im crying dont touch me)

but at least i've my phone and can write little iwaoi drabbles for yall #positivism

thank u so so so much today and every day for reading and supporting <33

u can find me on my ao3 🍉

[mrfoox]

I'm going to struggle to sleep and get up tomorrow

Curse it all

[suguryusei]

"It's my duty" Connor x GN reader

warnings: Both Connor and Reader just had an argument. Reader has hair, no length is specified but its brushable. Usage of pet names (including love, baby, etc.) bare with me here since it's not proof read (i dont edit my fics much, i just let my brain do the work) just a short fanfic, please do tell me if i miss anything!

-

"Y/N?, are you doing something there? you're taking too long. I'm worried, love!" Connor exclaimed, after you both had an exhausting argument. You told him that you needed some space which he obeyed. A simple mission, him respecting your space. Connor thought it's easy to handle this type of situation.

it was NOT easy for him at all.

Which is why he's knocking on the bathroom door, thinking you must've done something wrong there to not respond at his words.

"Baby! are you there? I'm breaking in, okay? in one, two, thre-" Connor interrupted himself and slammed on the door seeing you brushing your hair with a toothbrush on your mouth. You gurgled and placed the toothbrush in a cup holder, with the other hand equipping the hairbrush.

"Oh my God!" Connor was in disbelief when he saw you brushing your hair. "What?" You told him, looking irritated. "No, no. I can't let you do that. It's my job to do that." He tried to get close to you, reaching for the hairbush. You swiftly avoided him, your back was in touch of the wall. Connor is close to you, you between his arms, caging you. "Give me some space, RK800-" Your words were quickly stopped by a stolen kiss. It was soft and delicate, He's a gentleman whenever it comes to you. "Please, baby? It's my duty." He begged, with his 'try hard' puppy eyes. As much as you want this man to understand that your personal space is needed, you can't resist this adorable man.

You sighed, looking defeated. "Fine. But please, don't be too harsh on my hair, okay? You added and he looked delighted as he succeeded, looking like a happy puppy who had just gotten a treat from his owner. "Thank you so much, my love!" He holds the hairbrush with care and started brushing your hair, downward. "You know, i love doing this. Please let me do it everyday to you, Baby." Connor murmured. His tone was soft, he's a domesticated man. Well, you can't say no to your partner. He is truly a lucky man for letting him brush your hair everyday.

-

A/N: HELLOOOOO, i just came back! it's been so busy and im sorry i haven't posted. I've been obsessed with detroit: become human lately and its so good! Im planning to post a blue lock fic soon! thank you everyone for reading this, have a nice day!