#i'm not your fucking therapist

[kylievershion]

me wondering why my 17-30+ deviantart 'friends' have the nerve and audacity to randomly vent to me as if I'm their fucking therapist and continue talking about some random drama that was over with months ago

[triglycercule]

mtt therapy moment except dust keeps taking breaks to talk to phantom papyrus and horror just wants this to hurry up so it can get to his turn because he couldn't give two shits about dust and killer's trauma and killer physically cannot discuss his issues and just starts zoning out while crying for some reason during it

and i'm the therapist listening to all of this writing down notes fervently because ITS CANON MATERIAL CANON I NEED TO GET THE CANON MATERIAL

[torchstelechos]

People be like, how you doing? And I'm like, Loop is never going to see their family again.

[applesontheground]

sing the song or keep it inside 🐖

KINKTOBER 2024 | DAY THREE - SIXTY NINE

i love him. so much. that's why my ultimate fave of a classic slasher gets this one. <3

NSFW | Word Count: 818 | Bubba Sawyer x AFAB Reader (GN Pronouns) contains established relationship, size kink, oral (both receiving...ofc), hair pulling, primal 🎼: x

If you stood square outside the back stretch of the Sawyers’ land, you’d think the coyotes were out and coming much closer tonight. Infact, they were far off in the distance and wailing like the world was ending, a cacophony some who enjoyed the break in silence called a choir, joining in with the crickets. That would be an oddity for them to roam so close, considering that while carrion was common, livestock hadn’t grazed in the fields for decades.

Step closer to the barn, though, and you could realize it wasn’t just the coyotes that were howling.

Noises coming from the large doors, one of them left open with a hen's size space to squeeze through if needed, were far more guttural sounds. Something less like an animal in fleeting moments and more…refined.

It was difficult to catch a quiet, secluded time in the house itself, so the barn had to suffice for things a little more unprecedented than the usual flings you’d have at the end of the day with Bubba, ideas you couldn’t keep to yourself. It had started out on the porch, where you were sitting on the youngest Sawyer’s knee, talking in his ear about a pose that you had heard of in a racy magazine some anonymous member of the home had left around.

With lidded eyes, he was hanging onto your descriptions intently, and you even had to prop a knee up when one of his brothers walked by after accidentally exciting him a bit too much. The sun was sinking behind the flat horizon, turning everything to a warm shade of brown and orange, and that was when you placed a hand on the middle of his back, and asked if the barn would suffice for this new trick you wanted to show him.

He nearly threw you off his lap to stand, and even when you caught your balance, it was taken from you once more as his arms secured around your shoulders, drawing down to your waist as he kissed your cheek a few quick times, eliciting a giggle that got him going, too.

A hay bale was an awkward lay, but you could ignore the itch and pokes as you straddled him, upside down and careful not to settle your pelvis too close to his windpipe. After that, you two found a good fit, and an even better place to put your mouths with this new angle and this new access.

Like a game of tug of war, you two were almost in a subconscious competition on who could make the most obscene noises. Between his bellows and groans as you went all the way down with his size brushing the back of your throat; the wet sound your mouth made as you gagged, but kept licking and sucking on him. Their competition was the little whimpers and breathy pleads to whoever would listen as his tongue slid past your walls, lapping adoringly, gently at times and rough when you could get a wrangle of your sounds. He needed the affirmation through your own uncontrollable murmurs and cries, and finally you had given up when he pulled you by your hips closer to his mouth.

You pulled your mouth off of him in turn, panting against his thigh as you caught your breath, used it to let out another blissed noise. “That’s the spot, Bubba, that’s-“

You were cut short by a hard surface touching your entrance. Teeth were slipping by accident, but it wasn’t anything you’d give him a hard time for, especially since it was light grazes before he whined and got them out of the way again in favor of his tongue.

Noticing your head was up, a hand quickly settled over the back of your head, straightening your messy lengths before suddenly pulling them together – he had just been getting them into something more manageable rather than showing affection.

You wrenched back, hands sliding up his thighs and onto his stomach, not even needing to try and not apply any unbearable weight against his body. The strength he was using to curl your back up, hold your hair in a tight fist as he felt your climax approaching in the way your sounds went mute, but your legs shook against his ears, he knew it was good.

The sudden release, murmurs and praises mixed with obscenities – your mouth was a runaway train that had it all, hands trembling against his skin as you came down fast, the head of his dick bumping your nose as he let go. You glanced down, and heaved through a loss of breath, “Time to take care of you, huh?”

No response was needed, your mouth returning to work and humming in approval against his skin, something to reverberate when sound failed to reach his ears.

Lord knew he liked a good vibration to indicate something was working.

[smolmakerel]

"Do you sit down in the shower, Tara?"

Tara blinked in surprised before narrowing her eyes. "What?"

Her new therapist, Abby Turner, was staring at her with a relaxed expression of genuine curiosity. She didn't really look the part of a therapist, sitting there in a yellow cardigan that matched the socks with SpongeBob on them. If anything, she looked a lot like a teacher Tara had in second grade minus the thick rimmed glasses.

"Do you sit down whenever you take a shower?" Abby asked again, shifting to cross her legs. She drew her fingernail over the metal clip of her clipboard.

Still, Tara was taken aback by such a question. She felt oddly seen through.

"Why?" Tara shot back instead.

Abby laughed softly. "There's no need to be defensive. I was going over our notes from last time and thought about what you said."

What she said? What did Tara say, exactly?

"I don't remember saying anything bad," mumbled Tara.

"No, nothing bad. I'm sorry if I made you panic."

At that, Tara hardened her gaze and looked away. Leave it to the therapist to know when her thoughts were spiraling out of control. God, Tara only had 7 sessions with her, and Abby thought she knew everything about Tara.

"It's ok if you do," Abby went on to say. Tara's face soured, and Abby unfortunately caught that. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Another one?" Tara tried to joke, but Abby saw through her facade. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to play 20 questions."

She chuckled awkwardly. "Why do you sit down in the shower?"

"Because... I uh..."

"Take your time."

Tara was at a loss for words. Why did she sit down in the shower? She never really noticed she did it until Abby sent her back with homework to figure out things she noticed about her dailey routine. Which included an hour long shower; Tara would be sitting in the tub allowing the hot water to hit her back. While she sat, tremors would rack her body and her irritation would rise.

"I get in the shower in the morning," Tara explained slowly, still processing her thoughts. "Before class so no one has to see me all... icky."

"And do you think there might be another reason for sitting down?" Abby inquired. "I only ask because of your water bottle comment."

Tara looked unsure at that. She brought her hands to her lap to fidget with her nails. The comfortable gray armchair she sat on never felt more uncomfortable under the watchful eye of her therapist.

"S-Sorry, but I don't remember talking about that."

"That's ok," her therapist assured her. "Last time, you talked about how you needed to clean your room. You have a lot of water bottles on your table and floor, clothes in your bed."

Recognition flashed in Tara's eyes. "Right. Sorry."

"Depression and anxiety after a traumatic event is completely normal, Tara. In fact, I would be surprised if you didn't have one of those with what you've been through."

Tara shrugged. "It's nothing. Other people have been through more than me; I'm just being selfish."

Selfish. She had always been selfish; even her own mother thought so, and she made sure to remind Tara anytime she was in town.

Abby wrote something down, nodding to herself as if all of Tara's issues were understandable now.

"I sit on the floor," Tara suddenly said in the uncomfortable silence. She didn't look at her therapist at all, ashamed. "I get so... tired sometimes. And it isn't because of the metal in my leg! It's me! I wake up tired, go through the day angry because of how tired I am, and go to sleep tired. But then I can't sleep and I just..." She huffed in frustration, nails dug into her palms. "I don't know what to do."

Abby leaned back in her chair and flipped her clipboard over on her lap. Her eyes watched Tara's face closely.

"Is there anything you have that could help you sleep?" Abby asked. "A stuffed animal, a nightlight...?"

Tara's mind immediately drifted to her older sister. Sam was strong enough to keep Tara's night terrors away, yet she's soft enough to wrap Tara in her arms and calm her down. No matter how much Tara yells and sobs in her sleep, no matter the bloody scratch marks on her arms, no matter how Tara dissociates to protect herself. Sam was always there.

"No," Tara claimed instead.

Abby cocked her head. "And your sister isn't willing to help you?"

Tara shook her head. "No, she is but... I don't want to bother her with my problems."

Abby flipped her clipboard back over and wrote something down. Tara wanted to chuck the damn thing out the window. She lowered the clipboard again.

"Based on what you've told me about your sister, she sounds like just the person you need at night," Abby pointed out with a soft smile. "I'm sure she'd be willing to help if you asked."

'But I can't!' The words burn acid on Tara's tongue.

"Ok."

Fuck.

[♡♡♡]

Tara raised her hand at Sam's door and drew it into a fist. It hovered in the air for a long few seconds.

Then she knocked.

The door opened not even a second later, and Sam was standing there rubbing her eyes.

"Tara?" Sam mumbled. She instantly woke up, eyes darting over Tara looking for some sort of injury. "Are you ok? What are you doing up right now?"

"Can... Can I sleep in here with you?" Tara asked and before Sam could respond, she was babbling. "I'm sorry if I woke you up with this. Fuck, I'm so stupid. This was a mistake, I didn't mean to wake you up with my stupid problems. I-I'll go back to my room. Sorry -"

"Tara."

Tara's breathing hitched when Sam gently cupped her face, and - Oh. That was actually kind of nice. She sank into the warmth of Sam's palms.

"Let's go to bed, ok?" Sam whispered.

Tara nodded, throat thick with emotion. "Ok."

It was about 20 minutes later when they were settled in Sam's bed. Tara was dozing off finally, face buried into Sam's chest as her arms wrapped around her.

She stirred slightly when Sam kissed the top of her head. Her fingers tucked a few strands of hair out of Tara's face.

"I love you, Tara," Sam muttered.

Tara, too exhausted to say anything, simply turned her head and kissed Sam on the palm. She settled back down and relaxed into a peaceful sleep.

[andi-o-geyser]

on my anti dr. jacob agenda sooo hard you don't even know. like the level of just how unprofessional, unethical, and fucking infuriating his choices are is putting me into so much of a rage i can no longer maintain my danny rojas level of live laugh love in this economy. bastard. bastard man. my worst enemy. im calling the kansas college of registered psychotherapy and regulatory board of ethics on him don't test me

[ef-1]

girlhood

[triaelf9]

good morning! if you have a beef with a series or a scene in the series, fanartists can't do anything to fix that! And unloading on them on a post with their art isn't going to do anything but make the artist feel shitty! hope this was helpful! ^_^;;;

[andromedaexists]

"i'm literally never beating the allegations" and then the allegations are that i like skrunkly looking guys

[shiraishi--kanade]

At this point my blocked blogs list on this blog is extemely extensive and if anyone approaches me asking why I've blocked them the answer is 99% likely to be because you thought it appropriate to talk about your trauma on 10 notes personal post rb.

I mean it's weird how this keeps happening, but I think people need to develop some sort of etiquette cause what the hell.

This is a rb website, sure! You can do whatever you want. Except I can see your reblogs and read everything you say even if I don't want to because who would even consider turning notifications off on a post they didn't think anyone would rb with that, let alone rb in general? "Talking in tags" rules don't apply to posts like that.

Unless you are initiating a conversation with me specifically, I don't need to hear how depressed you've been in my notifications out of nowhere when I don't even know you. You're not talking into a void like you would on a 10k note post, you're all but yelling into my face. Have some semblance of courtesy and understand how this website works. Or else I'll whack you away with a block. Final warning.

[lanonima]

Palia is so real for letting you be the town whore romance everyone at the same time

I'm not going to do that but I think it's fantastic that you can

[scorndotexe]

"your father thinks it's all my fault, your sister thinks it's all my fault, you think it's all my fault" okay at a certain point you have to look inward and ask yourself "am i making life difficult for everyone around me?"

[antiyourwokehomophobia2]

God fucking bless. My therapist reccomended I get into an IOP program. I just got off the phone with the woman doing my intake and she straight up said "yeaaa, they're not going to let you do an IOP. The way your thoughts and actions align would have them make you do a full residential treatment which is a month long." and I not only didn't like hospitalization last time but I'm really not interested in taking time off of school AGAIN. This degree has already taken me so fucking long. SO fucking long. It's not my fault. My dad died in my second year and threw me off balance like a motherfucker but holy fuck lmao. I cannot keep pursuing my degree. I think I need to quit my depression cold turkey.

[fayevalcntine]

The whole "Claudia is now his sister"/Louis' sibling comparisons are never gonna sit right with me because that's never going to erase the fact that Claudia exists as a vampire partly because of him. Their relationship will never have this clearly defined role of siblings in the same manner Louis had with Grace or Paul, even if he was their older brother and was implicitly given the role of providing for them as the successor and manager of his family's estate. Because Louis was never responsible in part for their creation, the reason why they existed the way that they do in terms of behavior and life itself.

It also makes his betrayal of her all the more heartbreaking in ways that him and Grace drifting apart never will. He was her father, and didn't provide emotional support for her. She had to turn the tables and try to assume the role of being on an equal level because of this failure but this doesn't make him not choosing her any less painful than it did the first time. Even as they shift roles, take or give emotional responsibility one has towards the other, the fact that Claudia exists the way she does because of him and Lestat will always be there.

[spaciebabie]

I'm tired of ppl wasting my fucking time

[heartshattering]

I hope I can enjoy dressing up again instead of clothing turning into a new form of anxiety for me.

I don't fit into XS sized clothes anymore and I have to keep telling myself that that's okay.

I might hate how I look now (a lot tbh...) but I have to believe this is better overall for my health and that I don't want to go back to how I was before.

IT'S. OKAY.