#i've needed them for like 5 years so this is SICK

[ciaonicole85]

Part 3: What Then?

This was supposed to be a three part series, but it will probably be 4 or 5 parts. Sydcarmy is a tangled mess of intense care interlaced with anxiety and denial. So they need HELP from their friends and family along the way! Here's a convo with Natalie and Carmen. It takes place just a few days after he found out that he'd made Sydney's best meal ever. Then he inadvertently confessed she's the best part of his day and his heart's dearest wish...j/k, but not really ;)

On a brisk Monday afternoon Carmen rang the bell at Pete and Natalie's home. The doorbell's speaker answered back, with Natalie's hurried voice. "It's open Bear! Just come up to the nursery." He entered their home noting the new family photos hanging on the wall leading up the stairs. They were black and white shots with Pete and Nat walking into the hospital, the next just after Baby Angeline was placed in Natalie's arms, another with Pete and the baby, one shot of her curled bitty toes, and the last was all three of them in the hospital bed. Pete had hired a hospital photographer and as antithetical as that was to anyone with an ounce of Berzatto blood, Natalie let him do it. The result was so unexpectedly tender and beautiful that he paused on the stairs to soak it in. Pete is really a good guy. He was made from an entirely different mold than any man Carmy had grown up around. "Carm?!" Natalie called. "Coming." He turned into the nursery to find Natalie bundling up "Angie" and fastening her into one of those baby slings. Then with one fluid motion before he could speak, she slipped the sling over his shoulders. "Okay, Uncle she's yours!" "So, how does this work?" he asked, looking down at his tiny niece, his eyes as big as beach balls. Angie blinked back at him extremely unbothered.

Natalie rolled her eyes and chortled.

"It's already working. It's fool-proof! Okay, let me get my coat and we'll head out." They strolled down the older suburb's tree-lined streets past others pushing babies, walking dogs, and the occasional Amazon delivery truck. "Carmy, this is really nice and you're welcome to drop by anytime, but what did you want to talk about?" Natalie enquired. He had texted her the other night asking to discuss something important. He kept his eyes on Angie's blissful little face, swallowed, and began. "I'd like to split my share of the restaurant with Syd. She's put in so much work, took several months without pay, and even though I'm the EC she's the main developer of at least half of the menu and the weekly specials. When I was sick recently, she ran the place like a pro. She deserves it. Also, I think if I give her a financial stake she'll stay for at least 5 years. We need that. What do you think?"

Natalie contemplated him for a moment. "Well, part of me agrees and the other part...Carmy, please don't get defensive." "Nat. How can I not when you’ve said that?" "Is this a solely a business decision? Because if it isn't I don't think you need to or should do this to keep her. " Carmy stopped walking, his face falling with frustration and shame. "Have you been talking to Richie?" Natalie stopped and took his arm in hers. "No, I haven't. Look, sorry. What I meant is things are so good between you two." They resumed walking. "Yeah, and that's a problem?" "Not at all. The way you are together...maybe it's the hormones but I've cried sometimes because you are just yourself with her. I've never seen you smile so much with anyone else. Your freakin’ posture is more relaxed when she comes in the room. I could go on, Bear." "You see all that? What about-what about her? Am I any good for her?" he asked in a low, wistful tone. Natalie pulled his arm tighter. She paused, to choose her words carefully. She and Camry were no strangers to family interference in their love lives. "Well, I haven't known Sydney that long, but she tends to spiral, and she pushes through until she's sick or lashes out. Kinda like you do. I noticed that it’s gotten better though. Since we opened, you've been consistently checking in with her, collaborating with her, encouraging her, making her take breaks, and pouring time into her. She's far less doubtful; she believes in herself."

Carm nodded slowly, reflecting on Sydney's growth. "Well, she deserves that. I promised her that she wasn’t alone in this. My focus was not where it should’ve have been during the reno and Friends and Family.”

He exhaled heavily and went on.  

“So, it sounds like she lights up my life and for her, I'm a good boss or even her big brother."

Natalie shook her head, smirking.

" Yeah, you’re a great boss now, but little sisters don't look at their brothers the way Sydney does you. Do you remember when we were all talking in my office and you spilled hot coffee on your shirt? You peeled it off and the poor girl looked at you, as your sister it pains me say this, like she wanted to jump you. When you left to get a clean shirt, she didn't remember what she had been saying." " What!?!? Okay...." Carm scoffed trying and failing to suppress a huge smile. "Also, does she ever leave before 11 instead of sitting in those greasy whites with you every single night for how long? One to two hours!?" She continued. "My point is if you want to divide your share with her because it's good business and fair, and I agree it is, then let me do it too so we're even. Otherwise, I think you’re already three-quarters of the way there with her. She doesn't need to be bought."

They walked in silence for a few minutes. "Natalie, I understand, but I still want to split my share. I think it’s the right thing to do. You don't need split yours though." "First I don't want the largest share of the restaurant and second.... Pete and I may move to be near his parents next year." Natalie bit her lip and glanced at Carmy worry etched in her brow.

"We think it would be good for Angie. You know, to be close to her grandparents and she'd have young cousins nearby too." Carm squeezed her arm, missing her already. "Yeah, I met them at the wedding. They were...Pete’s parents for sure. Angie would have a normal set of grandparents around." Natalie took a deep breath, a gamut of emotions crossing her face. "Choosing Pete was the biggest act of rebellion of my life. I honestly felt repulsed by him at first, until I realized that he was real, and I didn't have to be on guard all the time. Angeline should have that from the start." She bent over to kiss her baby's head which was protected from the cool air by a lilac-colored beanie. "Sydney's a really good choice too. Businesswise and/or otherwise. So, if you're certain about this call Uncle Cicero. This won't change anything with our loan repayment, but his lawyer could help draft a contract. Then we'll ask Sydney if she wants to accept and if she refuses...just give her one of those Sydney-land stares of yours."

Carmy groaned. "You did talk to Richie!"

Natalie erupted into a storm of giggles. Carmen dropped her arm.

"Look, he started it. I told him to chill, but that Sydney-land thing...You have an season pass, bro! It’s very cute though.”

Next time on "What Then?"- Sydney's workversary (work anniversary)

[keeps-ache]

eye test scheduled :DDD

[icewindandboringhorror]

I know this is just a silly bad quality random screencap of a screencap that I found on facebook lol, BUT it's a succinct enough image to easily describe the concept in a quick/accessible way hopefully :

-

(and of course, feel free to elaborate in tags, etc.! (especially elaborating about other senses as well.. can you "hear" in your mind just as well as you can "see"? taste? etc.) It's an interesting topic to me, as someone who's like a 4.5 at MOST lol. I'm curious what option will be the most common :0c )

[silenthillbunni]

📖🖊❄️

[snowflop]

I want to be a hater about the cyl results so I'm making my own post so i can bitch in the tags about it. The tags will get long so the tldr is BOOOO everybody but Alfonse.

[prettycottagequeer]

ok maybe I'm a little late to this BUT I'm gonna do a to-do list motivation thingy because I've had the worst two weeks since I started college :)

SO these I should start on asap:

50 I make the snack I really want but I haven't had the motivation to make

100 I clean my dorm. another thing I've been meaning to do for a week

150 I do the presentation about mid-victorian fashion I've been putting off (due Monday)

200 I start memorizing the monologue that was due a week ago (now due Tuesday)

these can wait longer:

300 I spend time outside. It's so nice but I'm getting stuck scrolling because I feel like shit. vicious cycle ect

500 I start setting a better weekend routine (aka getting up before noon)

1k I start working out again. I was doing a routine to get more masc and build muscle and I liked it but life hit me like Crowley driving the Bentley and I've missed like 3 weeks

2k I buy my first binder. I've been coping with sports bras for almost a year now and I haven't been able to justify spending $50+ on a binder even though I know I'd love it and use it everyday.

Do I tag people? I don't know but I'm going to. @the-globe-theatre-maggot @weirdly-specific-but-ok @howmanyholesinswisscheese

here's just some context if you want to read, feel free to skip. some of this I've talked about in the maggot server, some I haven't, but I really just need a place for this to go that's out of my head. tw homophobia, transphobia, car crash(??)

How I Have Been Run Over By The Bentley Going 90 In Central London What Feels Like 50 Times In The Last Two Weeks

I'm going to college about 4 hours away from my parents, and it's been really nice. They.. suck, to say the least. transphobic/homophobic ect, super traditional conservative catholic, racist, all of it. so i tried to move somewhere where I wouldn't have to think about them and I could be myself and do what I can to be happy. March 1st was the start of my spring break, which meant going home because the dorms close. I was already not excited, but I was prepared. the problem with being away from home is I forget just how bad they are. My optimism gets the better of me and I think maybe this time they'll be better. so I decided to not hide my septum piercing.

that was a mistake. it starts a whole fight where they say we know you're trans, you're actually a girl and you always will be, we have the bones argument, they think I'm being influenced by demons or something (if only they knew about crowley) because I want to change my name, and they tell me that going on t will completely ruin my body and give me cancer and other things. They're also mad about my dyed hair, septum, and general style, and say I'm setting a terrible example for my (5) younger siblings and make it a point to tell me just how much of a disappointment I am. I think I'm pretty cute and fun but y'know, whatever. very fun time. I lie so much, don't give them any more details about my identity, and say I'm not planning to go on t to save my ass. which is all on instinct which makes me feel worse because if I'm really trans I should be able to stand up for that, right? maybe I'm faking the dysphoria.

the next morning I wake up really sick, and spend the rest of the week sick and feeling like shit because I'm home and back in the same place and situation I was a year ago that I thought I escaped. at one point I pretty much lose my voice but also kind of get gender euphoria from it. it's weird.

On Friday it's time for me to drive back 4 hours to school, and I make it about 3/4 of the way when google maps takes me on a random gravel road and I crash my car, really crash my car, like sideways-in-a-ditch-windows-broken-crawling-up-out-the-door crash it in the middle of nowhere. (I was fully paying attention to the road, it was raining and super slick) I call my parents because I have no one else to call and I sit in a Subway for 3 hours while they drive to get my car. when they get there they're (understandably) really mad, and they tell me that I'm not mature enough to be going to school so far away and I need to get my shit together and stop depending on them. which. is probably true. but made me feel even more stupid about the fact that I crashed my car. I get back to school and I'm still Very Sick with no energy or motivation to do anything. So I've spent the last week trying to get better and honestly to do anything. it hasn't really worked. I'm a lot better health-wise (Not emotionally), still sick but I have a lot of work due, so I really need a push to get started

[incorrectbatfam]

Do the batfamily members ever get too into their undercover work? (Undercover in an office and theyre worried about spreadsheets, working in a warehouse and coming home complaining about missing parts)

Bruce: Status updates on your undercover missions. Dick, you first. What have you got down at the docks?

Dick: I haven't confirmed the Killer Croc sightings yet, but more importantly, our catch hasn't been measuring up to last year's. Tuna we're doing okay on, but the salmon population seems to be on the low end. I've contacted the Department of Wildlife and Fisheries but it'll be another 3-5 business days before they can come down and check it out.

Bruce: At least you're doing something to help. Jason?

Jason: Class was okay. I think the kids are warming up to me as their substitute while Mrs. Maloney is out on maternity leave. The average on the last vocabulary quiz was 83.53% so either I'm doing my job right or they need to be challenged. I'm worried about Tristan Lancy, though. He's normally a good student but his grades have been dropping recently and his parents don't seem like safe people to tell. I'll talk to him tomorrow and try to pair him up with a peer tutor if he needs it.

Bruce: Also see if he has any alternate contacts besides his parents. Tim, any updates at the chemical plant?

Tim: If by updates you mean OSHA violations, I could go on all week. We got a batch of new recruits today and they were just thrown into the work—no PPE, no safety training, nothing. This is what happens when you place production over employee well-being. I'm gonna file a complaint after this meeting. Also, I think the union will have something to say about the manager cutting people's lunch breaks short.

Bruce: I see. Damian? Please tell me you found something volunteering at the zoo.

Damian: Depends on how you define "found." While I have not obtained evidence of a mutant larvae black market, I did help some of the animals at the sanctuary make progress with their recovery. Bobo the monkey is healing from his broken arms and we're gradually getting him re-acclimated to climbing higher surfaces. Suzie the black bear was born a little prematurely but seems to be catching up to her peers in terms of growth. Lastly, we got a grant for additional wildcat research and enrichment. As an aside, we are having an educational seminar on European mountain goats this Friday at 3:30 and I expect all of you to be there.

Bruce: I'll put that on our calendars. Steph?

Steph: It's not really undercover work for me, just work. Anyway, yes the newest Batburger location is being used for money laundering. But I really need to vent about the customers for a sec. We don't open until 10 and at 9:30 this morning some moron was banging on our door demanding Jokerized cheese fries. Then right in the middle of the lunch rush, Janie got sick so I had to fill in as the cashier and it was hell. After that, I had to step in between a fight at the drive-thru because the customer claimed we only gave him nine pieces of his ten-piece Robin nuggets and tried to beat up the kid who took his order. And to top it all off, an entire high school hockey team came in five minutes before closing.

Bruce: Cass?

Cass, blowing balloons: Can't talk. Arranging bat mitzvah.

Bruce: Duke, you're my last hope.

Duke: Margie's bringing a peanut butter chocolate cake to the bake sale. I swiped her recipe and we can easily beat her. Her ganache is way too watery and just runs off the top of the cake, which isn't even leveled. She's also trying to do something with a raspberry filling that isn't working at all. It's like she couldn't decide on what to bring. The bake sale committee also asked if we can bring some apple pies because the original baker has to go out of town for a family emergency. I think we'll win if we bring them with some ice cream and a touch of caramel, even though this isn't a contest.

Bruce: Thank you. At least our most critical case has been taken care of.

Barbara: ...I'll save my book launch for later.

[skullamity]

PSA for trans men and trans mascs on T who are afraid of/concerned about or experiencing male pattern baldness: Talk to your endocrinologist who monitors your T about hair loss before you talk to anyone else, you have options!

When the hair in the top of my head started to thin, I talked to my regular GP. She told me it should be fine to use Rogaine topically. There were no other options, either because she was somehow not aware OR was under the impression that alternatives might interfere with HRT. If this was the case, she did not relay this info to me, and if she had, I would have made an early appointment with my endocrinologist, who specialises in HRT for trans people specifically, and asked her about my options.

But, since I only have appointments once a year with my endo now because my levels are generally super consistent, I decided to try Rogaine. I lasted about a month, because it basically meant I had to wear a lined hat at all times to make sure I wasn't getting any on my pillow/cats/child. You need to apply it two to three times a day and leave it on your scalp for a couple of hours for the best results, every day, forever, and if you stop using it, your hair goes back to whatever it was up to before that made you concerned in the first place. I quit after a month and resigned myself to eventually going bald.

I finally had a phone appointment with my endo last week (was supposed to be in person but she had an emergency and was working remotely for the day), and when I brought this up and that I had tried Rogaine but couldn't deal with all of the above + my scalp was not reacting well to the alcohol in the foam so I quit, she was like ????? what? why didn't your GP just prescribe you finasteride???

I am now on finasteride! It is a dirt cheap, tiny ass pill. I only need to take a quarter of a pill once a day (my endo also helpfully explained to me that pill cutters exist and are also dirt cheap, so perfectly cutting a pill into quarters takes about 5 seconds and I got it for a whopping $8). Just like Rogaine, I WILL need to take it every day, forever, but it's not going to get all over my pillow and make my cats sick or cause my kid to grow a beard or whatever. It isn't going to dry my scalp out, and it also the cost comparison is a joke. I take it every morning at the same time I take my adhd meds, so it's easy to remember.

I have seen so, so many trans men and mascs online lately worried about this, probably because I've seen so many conservatives and the kind of detrans people that conservatives like to parade around put a lot of emphasis about how T will make you UGLY and make all of your hair fall out. I do feel sorry for any detrans women who are dealing with wonky hairlines or male pattern baldness, but also it sure is convenient that none of them see fit to mention that if you are experiencing those things, you can literally just talk to your endocrinologist about what your options are and then take a quarter of a pill every day to fix it. Almost like making you aware of that might move you away from their end goal, which is getting you to detransition.

[inkskinned]

oh you know it's all latestage capitalism but the thing is. how are you supposed to be a person inside of this. a person trying to be a better version of yourself.

oh, you started working young, which was kind of hard, but it's just the way stuff works sometimes. and it was 2008 and your family couldn't afford heat. but it's fine, you grow a spine and get used to the professional world and besides it was the suburbs we're talking about here, like, your life could have been actually hard, so what if your father lost his job and you can't afford to move or turn the lights back on. and once you start making money, it's good. you keep doing that. because now they're relying on you. so you have to do that.

oh you were in thousands of dollars of debt at 17 years old so that you could go to school, because you have to go to school if you want to get a "real" job. you even did it "right", you worked parttime and attended community college before you transferred to a public school. you were under so many merit scholarships.

which is fine. you pick yourself up and you say like, okay. i graduated college. i'm holding down a job. i'm doing the Adult Thing, which looks and acts like this, according to all the books i've read. you start with the shitty job and then you climb that corporate ladder.

but the shitty job doesn't cover rent and you stretch yourself too-thin so you get sick. good luck with that. the shitty job no longer pays for your meals. everyone asks why you don't just move, but there's nowhere to move to. and with what money are you going to be moving? and then the loans come back, because they were never going to forgive them, because you were 17 and trying to do the right thing, which was stupid. people are now saying you shouldn't have even gone to school.

which is fine. but because you have no other option, so you do the shitty job, and you apply every day for like 5 new ones, and despite the fact everyone says "there's no one who wants to work!" it's actually just that nobody is fucking hiring so you can either work for 13 dollars an hour in the shitty place you know (where at least you have a passingly friendly relationship with the manager) or you can start from scratch again with a different 13 dollars an hour without knowing how much abuse from the new job you'll be taking.

and if you quit you lose your insurance. if you quit you lose your housing. if you quit, you'll be another burnout kid. the lazy ones. these assholes, look at them!

and you come home to a family dinner and you hear from your father the same old thing. how he worked hard at his job and yes it sucked for a while but he was able to provide for the family and then the house and the dog and the rest of barbie's dream vacation. how the insurance did cover some of it. how you just really need to start speaking up more in manager conversations so they know you're a go-getter. you want to tell him - did you know we're actually doing more now hourly than any previous generation? - but you can't remember where you heard that statistic, and you're far too tired for the fucking argument. and then he starts in on his usual bit. where's the house? where's your kids? where's your ambition.

the same job the same money the same hours doesn't do it anymore. the same nose-to-the-grindstone now just shreds your face off. there's no such thing as upwards mobility, not really. and as far as you're aware, the money certainly is not trickling. you do the soulless stupid shit you signed up for because you fucking have to or else you literally risk your life (food, the apartment, the insurance), but it's not getting you anything. you download the stupid "save more" app and you budget and you do every right thing and then the price of eggs is 7 dollars and you say - oh great! another thing i have to fucking worry about now!

and you go to your stupid job and everyone in your father's generation just tells you to be better about being an adult. they have their homes and their savings account and their bailout and they say. well have you tried not drinking starbucks. well your generation just spends too much on clothing. well you might just be too addicted to travelling. and you - because you need the job - you bite your tongue and don't say i am being held prisoner and you're suggesting i stop pacing my cell if i don't like the scenery and you don't say what the fuck do you think i've been doing with my money and you don't say i haven't spent a cent on something nice in literally forever much less coffee you arrogant asshole. you open and close your bank app and check your loans and check your credit score and check fucking zillow and ziprecruiter and apartments.com just one time more. and still they give you that demeaning little grin and say - see, what you need is -

what you need is for your meds to stop being so fucking expensive. what you need is for the housing bubble to explode into dust. what you need is for billionaires to choke on their wealth. what you need is actual help. what you will get is more economic advice from people who are older-and-wiser.

and above you, almost in a glimmer, you can see the wedged smile of your debt getting toothier, wider.

[lovelybrooke]

What’s up with MC? (Platonic yandere Hazbin Hotel immortal au)

So I've really wanted to write some stuff about reader and their life. I hope this helps you guys understand them a little bit more. This doesn't have much to do with Hazbin Hotel, but hopefully you still enjoy.

Trigger Warning for: Very bad/neglectful parenting, disassociation, talks of regretting a child, bullying, please tell me if I need to include anything else.

masterlist

---

You were born a very small and loud baby. You cried and cried, even after your mother took you into her arms and laid you down on her chest. Even when your father took you for a few seconds so he could hand you to the nurse. And even when she rolled you down the hallways of the hospital to get your test done. It wasn't until you cried yourself asleep that it was finally quiet.

Life wasn't always so bad, back when your dad was around and your mom wasn't a drunk. Your father worked at a family pharmacy, had good hours and was home before dinner. Your mother stayed at home taking care of you. She would make you lunch, play games with you, and would even rent movies from the library to watch with you. In your childlike eyes, life was perfect.

Things weren't perfect though. In reality, your mother got pregnant young, forcing her to marry your father when she was 20. In her young, 20 year old mind, she thought she loved your father and he thought he loved her. So getting married seemed like the next step when she realized she was pregnant. And she loved you, she loved your smooth skin, she loved giving you baths, and dressing you up. But she didn't like the crying, and the sick days, and the clinginess. She hated having to be the one to deal with all those things while your father was at work. And when he was at home, he wasn't a help either. He was distant, they never talked or loved each other like they did when they were teens.

Your mother started drinking when you were three. It started off with wine at dinner, then at lunch and dinner, then at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Eventually, she started picking you up from Pre K drunk, the other moms could smell it on her. One mom told an admin who told the principal who told your mom that another parent would need to pick you up. You could faintly remember the fight your mom had in the parking lot and then with your father at the dining room table. Whenever your mom got like that, you imagined that you weren't yourself, instead you were a character in one of the books your mom used to read to you. It helped.

As your mom got worse, your father slowly stopped showing up. He said he had more work, his boss was getting older so he had to pick up the slack. When he was home, he was distant and cold. He never wanted to play with you, he treated you less like his child and more like an associate. As you got older you knew it was because he didn't want this life, he didn't like his 9 to 5, and he didn't like coming home to a drunk wife and a child he never desired to have. And when he stopped showing up, a part of you, even though you barely knew him, was relieved. It meant less fights, less loud yelling, and less time spent inside your own head.

You were a quiet kid all throughout school. You never were good at making friends, but it wasn't something that bothered you. With your dad gone, money got tight, and when you were seven, your mom started working at your local supermarket. It wasn't great, but it was better than having no money. That's also when she started smoking. You stopping kissing her goodnight because she smelt like cigarets. You felt bad, but she didn't seem to care.

When you were eight, you were trying to climb a tree in your backyard when you fell, breaking both of your legs in the process. You laid there until the bright blue sky became black, eventually falling asleep and having the strangest dream. Your mother didn't find you until the next morning, your cries being drown out by the beers and t.v. She took you the hospital where you were apparently fine.

When you were ten your father called the house. It was a Saturday meaning your mom would sleep in, and when you picked up the phone, you heard a voice you didn't know. It was old, manly, and angry. He was shouting something about money and credit cards, and when you hung up, he called again, and again, and again, until eventually your mother woke up. They argued for hours and when they were finished, your mother told you not to answer the phone again, so you didn't.

When you got to middle school you experienced bullying for the first time. A girl in your 3rd period made fun of your clothes, which your mother found at the thrift store. You never realized that you wore the same clothes every day until then, and so when you got home you learned how to use the washing machine. From that day on you did the laundry in your house, and when your mother suggest you make dinner, you did that too. It eventually became a routine, you'd go to school, your mom went to work, you'd get home and clean the house, do laundry, and make dinner, all while you mom watched t.v. It never bothered you, because if you didn't do it, who would.

The bullying didn't stop, even into high school. You were the poor kid with a drunk mom and an absentee father, you were the prime subject for bullying. It was never anything big, the occasional teasing and mocking, especially on days when your mother would pick you up. It was embarrassing, to have her yell at you from her old, beat up truck. Or when she'd smoke in the school parking lot. Or when she rant to you about work and get mad when you interjected. You got better as you got older ignoring it, ignore her, ignoring the way she made you feel.

When kids would talk about your dad, you'd make up a different person in your head since you never remembered who he was. You imagined him as a prince, handsome and knightly. You imagined dancing with him, him kissing you on the forehead before you went to sleep, and him telling you he loved you. You guessed that was the great thing about having a deadbeat dad, he can just kinda be whoever you wanted, even if it wasn't real.

When you were 15, you were working on a project after school when your mom forgot to pick you up. You were forced to walk home from school, alone, in the cold, when a car swerved your way and you fell unconscious. You were having the craziest dream until you woke up, in your bed, your mom asleep in the living room, game shows playing loudly on the t.v.

You stopped relying on your mother for anything after that. You stopped expecting her to help you, stopped expecting her to pick you up from school, or to even pay your bills. You got a job and started contributing what you could so you could keep the lights on. You knew it wasn't right, that this isn't how a parent should act. But she was still your mom, she still loved you, right? If not, then what was all this for.

---

A/n: I think I made readers life too tragic, sorry. Parts of this were based on my own experiences growing up but nothing this bad, so feel free to tell you what you think.

[homunculus-argument]

I was born and raised American, but with everything that's happened over the past few years I've been considering moving to another country. but I don't know if this is just "the grass is greener". Not sure if this really fits with your blog, but as someone from Europe what's your attitude towards living in the US?

I've visited there a handful of times and most of my thoughts are "damn bitch, y'all really live like this?" People in Finland like to complain about the climate, the taxes, and how stingy the welfare systems are (if you currently rely on them) or how costly they are (if you're currently not relying on them), but honestly most of the time that's because people are used to having it so good, or don't really have a perspective of how bad everyone would be doing without the infrastructure that everything runs on.

Sure, nowhere is perfect, and there's always room for improvement, but honestly the people I've met in the US only really seem to think that their system is good because they've never been anywhere else and don't know any better.

Mostly it's stuff that you'd never think about if you hadn't been to both places, like being able to trust that tap water is drinkable or that you can safely walk/bike to wherever you need to go. The US really doesn't have the kind of ability to just hang out in public places, just walking to the town and sitting on benches. Having public parks and libraries isn't really the same if you can't just walk there, and you genuinely need a car to go anywhere.

I moan and lament a lot about how the winters here are hard to endure - at the darkest time of the year the sun rises at 9 and sets before 5 pm - but I wouldn't move from here just because of that, mainly because of how reliably everything is structured here. Sure, it's all run with funds from relatively high taxes, but that is a self-feeding loop on its own. The tax-paying workforce isn't a disposable resource that's wrung dry once and tossed out when it's broken, but even when you're just another cog in the machine, you're one that's maintained, not replaced if broken.

I had a lot of breakdowns when I was younger, largely due to depression and other mental issues I had due to the undiagnosed ADHD. When I started breaking down at work in my old factory job, they couldn't just fire me on the spot because of the workers' union fought tooth and nail to make sure that you can't throw people out for getting sick, and mental illness is treated no different from other health issues. I was allowed to take two years off work in order to study into a career I thought would fit me better. That didn't turn out well either, but I was still allowed to bounce back and forth between odd jobs, sick leave, and studying - all on government pensions during the spots when I wasn't working a wage - until I found the right diagnosis, the right medications, and the right job.

It's not a hyperbole to say that I owe my life to the ample and studry social welfare systems that Finland has in place. Sure, you're just another brick in the wall, a cog in the machine, but if you keep breaking down, it takes a long time until they completely give up on you if you can somehow make them believe that you're trying, because it's cheaper for the tax system to figure out how to make you fit into the machine than just toss you out. A human being is an expensive investment and if getting you to the right job, education, diagnosis, medication or even arranged housing is what it takes to get your ass back into the workforce, they'll at least try.

I'm perfectly happy to pay the taxes here to fund the system that helped me onto my feet when I was in no condition to function, and to support the people who never do recover, find their place, or be able to support themselves on their own. And I can live with the peace of mind that even if I fall apart again, that safety net is still there. It's brutal, pragmatic, and regards your health and welfare as a means to an end - to get you working and paying taxes again - but they still do prioritise your welfare. Cogs are cheaper to maintain than replace.

[unforth]

I had a day off yesterday.

And I can already practically hear the assumptions that such a statement is prompting the reader to make. Those assumptions are wrong. I don't mean I didn't work. I did, for about 8 hours. That's not at all what I mean.

I mean my wife took the kids out at 9:30, spent the night with her mom, isn't back yet the next morning.

There are things I NEED people on this website to understand about parenting. And I've talked about it before, and I'll talk about it again, because honestly the way that Tumblr as a cohort talks about parents makes me sick. Multiple polls have shown that only about 2% of people on here are parents. We're a huge minority, and we're constantly talked over, ignored, or accused of being bad parents (like, personally, I have had people reply to my comments or come on to my posts and tell me I shouldn't have my kids). In my case, being a parent means I'm almost 41, I'm married to @ramblingandpie, and our children are inching up on being 8 and 6 years old.

My entire day, and therefore my entire life, revolves around them. I'm up most mornings at 5 AM, because that's the earliest they're "allowed" to wake up, and so my brain just defaults to being awake around then - better to wake up before them, at least then I get a few minutes in the morning. Between 5 and 7, I sit with them, do my social media, work on side blogs, study Chinese. Then it's helping them get ready for school, then my wife or I or both get them on the bus, and then I work until the last possible minute, which is either when I need to go pick them up for an after school activity or when I need to go down and meet them off the bus. My afternoons are after school activities, chores such as washing the dishes and cleaning up toys, talking with them, working with them, playing with them. Their bedtime starts at 7:40, and my son gets scared if I leave before he falls asleep so I sit with him until about 8:15. As soon as he's asleep, I go fall on my face, sleep as best I can, then wake up and do it again. Overnight, it's hard to sleep deeply, because about once a week someone will wake up in the middle of the night and need help. That could be as minimal as a hug or as complex as having to completely change the bedding on a bunk bed at 2 AM while also comforting a child who is afraid they'll be in trouble, or afraid they're sick, or afraid of their nightmare, or, or, or. Further, if a child is awake, there is always noise. I usually study Chinese with two or more competing sources of noise. I read the same way. My life is loud, and active, and consists of constant interruptions.

I adore my family, and I love my children, but this is terrible for me.

I do all of this as an neurodivergent introvert. My clinical depression is at least medicated, mostly because post-partum depression after I gave birth the first time nearly drove me to suicidal in under a week (we were expecting this and were prepared, fortunately, getting help was as simple as a phone call). The constant noise and interruptions and forced socialibility are about the worst combination of home-life I could be subjected to. I spend far too many early mornings just breathing deeply and gearing myself up to be subjected to the wall of Loud, Boisterous, Needing-My-Attention that is every minute when anyone else in the house is awake.

So what did my day off look like?

I helped get the kids ready to go and did some morning chores. I'd been up at 4:30 AM so I also had already social media'd and studied. Then, while my wife finished the preparations, I started work, and I worked from about 8 am to about 4 pm, straight. I didn't get hungry so didn't bother stopping for lunch. No one interrupted me, no one asked me to look at anything they'd built, no one broke my concentration, no sounds could be heard except those I'd chosen myself.

I'd been out the day before at a local shopping street and listened closely to the things the kids said they wanted, so at 4 I grabbed a couple orders I needed to ship for work and drove to our local downtown, dropped the orders in a post box, then went back to the shops and did some Christmas shopping in the 45 minutes or so before everything closed. I think I'm basically done with what we'll get them - other bigger things will be left to grand parents - so that's a load off, I literally had a stress dream earlier this week about it being 12/24 and having forgotten to do the shopping and having to go to (oh horrors) the mall on the day before Christmas. (Reminder: I'm a Jewish atheist. It's just virtually impossible not to Holiday in the Culturally Christian Hellscape that is the US. Also, my wife is Christian. So.) Found something cute for my wife, too, even tho I already know the main thing I'm getting her. Then, I realized - one of my favorite restaurants is on that block. So. I went there. I sat by myself at a table, only the indistinct restaurant hubbub around me. I read four or five chapters of my book, and ate a savory crepe, and drank lovely fruit tea, and got a scone to-go that I'll eat for lunch today. It was more than I probably should have spent on myself - about $25, including tip - but fuck it. I only get maybe a handful of days off all year, and I'm allowed to indulge a little.

Then I came home. There were no lights on. There was no noise. I had considered doing some more merch work while watching TV on the actual television (my kids are too young for subtitled shows, so usually if I want to watch My Shows I either have to do it on my computer when they're not around, or put them on and read all the subtitles aloud while trying to keep up and process the actual meaning of what I'm reading). But when I got back, the quiet and dark was so goddamn NICE that instead I curled up on the couch and read more of my book. I did that until bedtime - still about 8:15, because I'm exhausted. Then...I went to bed. And I slept long and deep, knowing that there was no chance I'd be interrupted and woken up, I didn't have to be, even in sleep, alert to every noise and possibility that I'd be needed.

I'm still exhausted and burned out, but even one night to myself felt really, really nice.

Saying "Tumblr does X" as a universal statement is doomed to failure, but generally speaking, the parenting posts I see on Tumblr, the ones with tens or hundreds of thousands of notes, speak what's apparently widely seen as a truism on here: that unless someone wants to spend 24/7 with their kids, to be 100% emotionally available at all times, is always kind and patient and perfect, they are a bad parent, maybe even abusive. I remember when covid started, there were multiple posts actively mocking the "oh god, my kids are now home all the time, how am I supposed to do this?" attitude that a lot of parents posted in despair. WhY dId YoU hAvE kIdS iF yOu DoN't WaNt To SpEnD tImE wItH tHeM?

Look at what my usual day looks like.

Look at what my day off looked like.

Do you really think I don't want to spend time with my kids? Do you really think I don't love my kids?

But I'm not a fucking MACHINE. I'm a PERSON. That's what people on Tumblr seem to forget. PARENTS ARE PEOPLE. The same tumblrinas who post ~uwu be kind to yourself rest if you need to, you should forgive yourself for that mistake you made~ will turn around, with zero sense of irony, and post "you're a bad parent if you ever raise your voice around a child."

Expecting parents to be perfect means expecting parents to be inhuman. It also means that a parent can't be poor (can't spend all your time being the perfect parent if you have to work multiple jobs or weird hours!), can't be introverted (can't be a perfect parent if you're not completely emotional available, god forbid socializing is exhausting for you), can't be on the ADHD or autism spectrum (what do you mean you forgot to get your kid to a doctor's appointment once? what do you mean over-stimulation can make you angry? how dare you get angry at a kid!), can't be depressed (gotta get out of bed every single day, gotta always be upbeat, patient, happy, or else that's Evil), can't be (like my wife) physically disabled (what do you mean your hands hurt too much to hold a child's hand? are you denying them touch?? CRUEL). And when the only answer you can offer to that is, "if you can't be that perfect you shouldn't be a parent," then you're saying people who aren't middle class to wealthy, people who aren't neurotypical, people who aren't physically able, shouldn't have children.

And honestly...what the fuck is your problem?

I'm not perfect. I tell my kids to just leave me alone sometimes. I raise my voice, especially when one of my kids starts punching the other, but also sometimes just cause I'm exhausted and Can't Anymore. I've forgotten an appointment by accident and felt like a total fucking idiot, and I've skipped an after school activity because I just wasn't up for taking them. I've served them more unbalanced, unhealthy meals than I can count. I've made many, many mistakes, but I've also done my best, and I love my kids, and I hope that when they grow up, they'll still love me even as they recognize that I wasn't perfect, just as I've come to accept my own parents' short-comings while still loving them very much. They're people, too, and the older I get, the more I understand where they were coming from.

When I fuck up, I apologize.

When they tell me they're unhappy with something I've done, I apologize, and I try to do better. Sometimes I even succeed.

This shit is hard, yo. And it's getting harder every year.

I'm BEGGING Tumblr: you need to start seeing parents as people. The way y'all talk about parenting on here is toxic, and genuinely harmful, and frankly exhausting. You have no idea what the reality of raising kids is like, and you need to shut the entire fuck up.

I had a day off yesterday.

I might get one more before the end of 2023.

I already can't wait. I am so, so, so tired. sigh

(if you actually read this whole rant and even a single word of it resonated for you, please reblog it. I'm tired of never seeing positive posts about parenting while I see negative ones with a bajillion notes.)

[neuralnetsprettypatterns]

Pinned Post

Hi there! I'm Neural Nets. I make kink content. I specialize in audio content about mind control. I also produce video, make games, and create experimental content for personal massagers.

If I have a kinky vision, I aim to make it real. I learn the tools I need for them.

I made the first content for "bimboization" over a decade ago. It was supposed to be private. It got leaked and cycled into thousands of spicy video dishes. I left the scene and returned to find it EVERYWHERE. That was fucking surreal.

My content is much better now. I learned the tools to make the horny impulses real.

Some of my content is free. You can find free things here, on Discord, on Reddit, on Soundgasm, and on Spotify. My media presence is a bit scattered because of bans and illness, but it's there.

The real archive is on Patreon. That costs money. It doesn't cost very MUCH money, and I think it's well worth it. That's your call, though.

I am definitely over 30. I don't disclose my exact age because hacking. "Over 30" should be enough. If you're hoping I run for US Senate, I appreciate your optimism and mourn its imminent passing.

FAQ:

Do you answer asks?

Yes! I turned off anonymous asks here. Trolls should commit to the bit. That said, I appreciate asks and I answer all of them if they're in good faith.

2. Do you answer DMs?

I leave my DMs on here. I wrestled with that decision.

They're on for: a. people I've known for a while or b. people contacting me about projects, like VAs and spicemakers

Any other questions go to asks.

3. How do I voice act in a Neural Nets production?

You contact me. You'll need to provide a voice sample.

If I cast you, I'll direct you to the casting spreadsheet. It has deadlines. If people miss deadlines, their parts get recast. I can direct, but I can't micromanage your time.

Sometimes, people are very underconfident in their voices, and it makes them feel bad. If that's you, I empathize. I'd be happy to answer questions and give advice! I shouldn't direct you, though. I don't want to unwittingly hurt people by directing.

4. Do you believe your content?

I believe in equality and radical honesty. I unequivocally believe in consent. I wish political and economic systems did too.

I have dark impulses. I like some schtick and some kayfabe. I like trickery and manipulation - in consensual kink.

All my content addresses things that turn me on, but my ethics trump my desire for a host of braintrained pleasers.

5. Do you do AI stuff?

Not really. I've tried machine learning tools. Porn is the cutting edge of new tech, after all.

I like automated tools to generate effects. Purely generated stuff, like image generation? Overall, meh. People make me horny. Mechanized people can make me horny. Machines, by themselves, don't make me horny.

6. Aren't you evil?

No. Some people are bad at reality testing. Some people chase clout. I naively engaged them initially. That was a mistake.

If anyone has beef, they failed to contact me privately. That's the damning mark of clout chasing.

I'm flawed and human, but I'm neither your hero nor your villain.

7. Aren't you dead?

No. In late 2022, I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. It's partially genetic, so I sorta saw this coming. That was my worst lifelong fear, and it happened.

Fortunately, though, we caught it early and they have banger drugs for it now. Monoclonal antibodies destroyed the misbehaving parts of my immune system. I'm in NEDA, which is like remission.I recovered compromised motor skills through a year of totally brutal and partially self administered physiotherapy. I ate a lot of pavement, so it's a good thing I used to skate.

If you saw me now, you probably wouldn't clock anything. Lucky.

I am annoyed at people who mass reported my last blog shortly after I came out as sick. It takes a special kind of miserable to delight in that. Regardless, I'm back and that's not my problem.

I missed this platform, as completely broken and dysfunctional as it is.

I am glad to be back, and I'm here for any asks.

[themultifandomgal]

Can I get a little something with either Kelly Severide or Matt Casey please where he sees the readers baby bump for the first time? Perhaps it becomes really prominent and he soon becomes obsessed with it

Kelly Severide- Little Baby Bump

YN and Severide wanted to have a baby for a while. They knew that as soon as they got married they would try for a baby, but unfortunately for them it took a lot longer than they thought for them to conceive. A year later after trying YN started to have pregnancy symptoms like morning sickness, swollen breasts, tiredness.. etc. Of course Kelly was immediately at the nearest shop to get some pregnancy tests and got home in record time. Within a few minutes they were celebrating the fact that they were going to be parents.

That was 5 months ago and while YN has been looking a little bloated there wasn't a prominent baby bump until today. The weather in Chicago has been rather nice recently, so YN gets dressed into a maxi dress. What she doesn't realise is that the dress being tight fitting shows off her small baby bump. YN leaves her shared bedroom with Kelly and heads downstairs into the living room where Kelly is sat watching the TV

"Is it just me or is it really warm?" YN asks

"Just you babe. Well it's warm, but not..." Kelly stops when he sees his wife. Kelly looks at her little bump

"What? Is their a stain on my dress" YN goes to look down

"No it's just, your bump is showing"

"What?" Kelly takes YN's hand and guides her back upstairs to their bedroom where there is a full length mirror "Kel what are you..."

"Look" Kelly stands behind YN rubbing her little bump "our little baby is in there"

"We've waited a long time for this" a tear falls from YNs eyes.

That night YN and Kelly lay in bed together, Kelly rubbing her bump ever so slightly before sitting up and little and then leaning down

"Hey little one. Mummy and daddy can't wait to meet you. Tomorrow we're going to paint your bedroom, well I am. Mummy is going to keep out of the room because of the fumes instead she's going to sort out the millions of clothes she's bought" Kelly laughs making YN chuckles. Kelly lays back down on his back, YN turns over so that she can lay on Kelly's chest

"I love you Kel"

"I love you too" Kelly replies before they both fall asleep.

The following day Kelly, Matt and Jay go upstairs to build the baby furniture and paint the walls while YN and Gabby sort through the already washed baby clothes and the ones that need to be washed. Again the weather is warm so YN is wearing another maxi dress with the air con on. She notices Gabby shiver a little

"Sorry if it's to cold, I've just been so hot"

"No it's ok don't worry"

"I'll grab you a jacket" YN gets up smoothing down her dress

"I bet Severide is excited about being a dad"

"Very. Last night he spoke to the bump, then all night he would either be holding my bump or stroking it a little" YN grabs a jacket off the back of the dinning room chair and hands it to Gabby

"You guys are so sweet. Your going to be amazing parents. Just remember I am godmother" Gabby jokes

"Of course. You want a drink? Bet the boys will want a beer"

"I'll just have a soda"

"Ok" YN goes into her kitchen and opens up the fridge grabbing 2 sodas, one for her and one for Gabby. She then grabs 3 beers for the boys upstairs. YN takes the beers let's Gabby know her soda is in the kitchen while YN takes up 3 beers.

YN opens up the nursery room looking at the sweaty men in front of her

"Beer anyone? It's cold"

"Thank you YN" Matt walks over to her smiling

"What are you doing in here? The fumes..."

"Won't hurt for a couple of minutes. The rooms looking good" Kelly wraps his arm around YN's waist rubbing his thumb up and down against her bump slightly

"How's the clothes folding coming along?" Jay asks taking his own beer

"Ok rather be in here helping you guys, but I'm way too hot" YN chuckles "I better get back downstairs, left Gabby folding"

"We'll be down in a bit" Kelly presses his lips to YN's forehead before kneeling down to place a kiss on her bump.

Since YN started showing, Kelly has been constantly touching and kissing the bump. Basically he's obsessed. Kelly is going to be one of the most amazing dads ever.

[auteurdelabre]

Daddy Morales (one shot)

Rating: 18+ mdni!!!!

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f! Reader

Warnings: Daddy kink, oral (m receiving), power imbalance, infidelity, finger sucking, public sex (truck) dirty talk. Gentle Dom Frankie.

Authors note: I took a poll and you wanted this! This is glorified pwp. Just so horny for Frankie these days. Came to me in a daydream. I blame the fever I've got. Frankie fever.

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

Frankie has come to despise date night. What started as a prompt from their couples counselor as a way to connect has swiftly become an evening every week for his wife Carmen to shit on everything he does.

It always starts the same - dinner out where she complains that they can't really afford it on his salary. This is usually followed by observations that her other friends wives don't need to worry about this. That they're good with their money. That if Frankie hadn't been caught on the job with coke they'd be set.

And he sits there listening, head slightly bowed under his baseball cap and he takes it. He takes it because it's true. He fucked up doing coke. He fucked up back in Columbia. He's always fucking up.

He thinks there's a sick part of Carmen that enjoys how beaten down he is. A part of her that feels superior. He was a pilot and she a secretary when they met. When he didn't work for a year because of his license being revoked she supported them and she likes to remind Frankie of this. Often.

But tonight is the last straw.

"You're a shit father, Frank."

There's a lot Frankie will shoulder. Shitty provider, sure. Emotionally distant husband, yep. But a shitty father? No. That's where he draws the line.

"You're never around," Carmen insists, eyes out the window as the truck rumbles into the driveway. "And when you are you're sleeping. Luca barely knows what you look like."

"I'm doing shift work to save money that you say we need," Frankie grits out, fingers curling around the steering wheel. "Flying helicopters isn't a 9-5. You've always known that."

"We wouldn't be in this mess if your coke-"

"Oh don't fucking start that shit again," Frankie all but shouts as they exit the truck and walk towards their front door. "Every spare minute I have, I spend with my son. Can you say the same?"

Carmen's cheeks go red. She knows he's alluding to her shopping trips and visits to the salon. Yeah, Frankie fucked up for a bit but Carmen has always had a spending problem.

She is furious but she drops her voice so it doesn't carry as he unlocks the front door and they push inside.

"You're sleeping on the couch tonight."

"What else is new?" he growls, tension high. "Just go to fucking bed. We'll talk tomorrow."

He and Carmen both end their bickering as they come around the corner to see you in front of the television. It's on low in the background while you read your textbook.

You've been babysitting his son Luca for months now. Always on time, always cheerful, always thankful when he drives you home. You're doing your masters in education. You talk about your future with the kind of hope Frankie used to at your age.

Carmen doesn't even say hello. She just rushes upstairs to their bedroom and slams the door behind her. Frankie winces at the sound and you start, dropping your book.

"Oh hi Mr Morales," you say cautiously. "I didn't realize you were home. Luca is already asleep."

Frankie gives a wan smile, striding over and grabbing your fallen textbook. He shoves it into your hand, smiling down at you.

"Thanks."

"No problem. Ready for me to take you home?"

He watches you gather up your bag and books, eyes floating away when you bend over to grab one of the books under the couch.

He walks you to the truck, waiting until you have your seatbelt on before turning over the engine.

You don't live too far but Frankie always drives you home at night. He doesn't trust the big bad world outside his doorstep, especially not with a sweet thing like you.

You chat about Luca the entire drive and Frankie is pleased to hear that his son was well behaved.

It's not until Frankie parks in front of your apartment building that you suddenly grow somber. You want to say something, that much is clear. But he sees the hesitation in you. Sees the way that you gnaw at the corner of your mouth in concern.

"What's up?"

"I'm sorry I know this probably isn't my place," you blurt. "But Is everything okay Mr. Morales? You seem off."

He's heartened in the delicate way you speak to him. Maybe that's why he lets it all spill out without thinking.

"Uh no, actually. Apparently I'm a terrible father," Frankie says with a humorless laugh.

"What? No you're not!"

He's surprised by how emphatically you say that. He glances up to see the sheen to your eyes and his heart lurches.

"I've been your babysitter for months now and I've seen how you are with your son," you tell him, coming to shuffle so close to him on the bench seat of the truck that he feels your thigh press against his.

When he turns his head he can see the size of your quickly expanding pupils.

"You're the most wonderful father I sit for," you say passionately. "You know Luca says that? He tells me every night when I tuck him into bed that he's so happy you're his Daddy."

For some reason this comment is what breaks Frankie. Knowing how his son feels about him. The kindness you're showing him. The quiet comfort just being near you brings him. He isn't thinking when he lets his forehead fall to your shoulder, eyes wet with tears.

He doesn't even take time to think of how inappropriate this is but you hold him regardless, your arms coming to wrap around his shoulders. When he feels your gentle embrace he clings to you, tears spilling from his eyes as you whisper soothing words of comfort.

"You're a good Daddy," you say as he nudges his face into your shoulder. He feels your fingers glide through his hair soothingly. "So good."

At the sound of Daddy in your hushed voice at his ear Frankie feels his traitorous cock lengthen in his jeans. He jerks back slightly in shame, pulling his face from your neck and gazing at you, suddenly affronted with a very disturbing fact.

You're incredibly attractive.

He's never realized how enticing you are. Sure you're a good looking woman, but he's never noticed how your breasts fill out your sweatshirt until just now. Maybe he's forced himself not to notice.

What the fuck are you thinking?

You're just sitting there beside him in the truck with a concerned look in your face. He feels disgusting for thinking of you in that way when all you've tried to do is comfort him.

"You're the best Daddy," you say in a voice so sweet Frankie actually feels his cock twitch. His pulse ticks along with it as he watches you drag your tongue over your lower lip.

You don't even realize what you're doing.

And as if in a trance Frankie watches his own hand go to yours. You make a little sound of surprise when he takes your wrist in his grip, tugging gently. Your arm goes limp, allowing him to guide your hand between his legs. He drags your slack fingers over his hard cock overtop his jeans.

He watches your eyes widen in surprise, fingers trembling as you realize what's happening.

"S'okay," he reassures you. "Go ahead."

He urges your hand underneath his boxers, eyelids fluttering when your tentative fingers graze the head. But he is silent when you begin stroking him with gentle tugs.

Fuck that feels good. It's been months since he and Carmen have fucked. She's so mad at him so often he's often forced to find his relief in the shower most mornings, coming against the tile with a whimper.

He feels his hips jump when the tip of his head begins to bead with precome and you use it to aid in your strokes. He sees you staring at him, aroused and flushed.

He watches your delicate hand wrapped around him, fingers not even able to span the entire width of him. He sees his cocks rosy head appear and disappear with every stroke of your sweet hand.

It looks debauched.

He should stop you.

"So big," you say softly, eyes wide on Frankie's burning face as your hand works over his weeping cock.

"Ever seen one this big before?"

You shake your head, blushing prettily. Frankie smiles gently at this, head tilting forward as he watches you jerk him off.

She's my babysitter. I'm married. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Frankie pulls your hand off of him gently, his palm sliding up your spine. He feels as you quiver under his touch and his balls tighten.

"Should stop," he says breathily heavily. You don't say anything, but he thinks you look disappointed.

Unconsciously his hand goes to your face, thumb trailing over your damp lower lip. He pulls it down gently, showing him your slick bottom teeth. For some reason this makes him groan.

He feels his breath catch when your mouth moves forward to capture his thumb in your mouth. His eyes are transfixed, watching as you suck the digit into your mouth, your eyes never leaving his.

Frankie moans gently when your tongue circles his thumb inside your wet mouth, the promise of more.

"You're such a good Daddy," you murmur from around his thumb, eyes growing heavy-lidded. Frankie glances around, thankful it's dark and that the parking lot of the apartment is deserted.

He slowly removes the finger, dragging it down over your lower lip, urging your mouth to part. His wide palm moves to the back of your head, carding through your soft tresses.

"Show Daddy how good," Frankie whispers.

You allow him to slowly guide your face to his cock, your tongue darting out to lick the beads of arousal already there in the slit. Frankie gasps at the sensation, hand tightening in your hair. He feels his cock aching when you turn your eyes up on him, smirking.

Frankie groans something in Spanish, his hand pressing firmer now against the back of your head. He relishes in the fact that you don't even hesitate to take him fully into your mouth.

Frankie let's out a string of garbled noises as he begins to thrust shallowly into your scorching mouth, sure not to overwhelm you. You take it all with your hands on his thigh, moaning in pleasure.

He lifts his hand from the back of your head, watching as you bob your mouth up and down his cock without direction. You feel eager and you twist your tongue, flicking the underside of the mushroom head of his cock.

You pull off only to lick at him, long rapid stripes like he's melting ice cream. Frankie listens to the wet sounds you make as you do this, feeling his spine tingle.

"You're doing so good," Frankie manages to get out between whimpers. "Fuck, your tongue is..Mmmm... Oh fuck, yeah you like sucking Daddy's cock don't you?"

You hum around his cock in approval before he feels your hand coming to the base of his cock and stroking. Frankie gasps raggedly at that, letting out little whimpers as he gets closer to his release.

"Daddy's gonna give you his come now," Frankie grunts out, hand back to your head, but just resting there. "And you're not gonna waste a drop, right babygirl?"

You pull off of him slowly, a string of saliva connecting your bottom lip to the glossy head of his cock.

"No Daddy," you tell him earnestly. "Gonna swallow it all for you."

Frankie stares at you as your mouth descends once against upon his cock, slipping him deep into your throat. Frankie cannot believe this is happening. That he's actually fucking the mouth of his babysitter and about to come down her throat.

This is so wrong. I'm sick.

You must sense his hesitation because he feels your head drifting.

"Want it Daddy," you gurgle from around his cock, eyes tilted up at him from his lap. "Please?"

Everything in Frankie comes alive at this request.

"Fuck yeah babygirl. Take all of Daddy's come. Uh huh, just like that. Yeah down that tight little throat. You suck Daddy dry."

Frankie finally comes with a shudder when you begin whimpering around his cock, pulsing into your waiting mouth as he cries out your name, his hips bucking into your mouth until they stutter to a stop.

You swallow every drop just like you promised.

He watches you slowly pull yourself off his slick cock, wiping your mouth delicately with the back of your hand. Your face is flushed, mouth slick and Frankie wants nothing more than to go up to your apartment and fuck you until morning.

"Goodnight Mr. Morales," you say with a soft smile.

Frankie can only offer a dazed nod and a scratchy goodbye as you exit the truck with your purse slung over one shoulder and your textbooks gathered into your arms.

He waits until you're safely inside the lobby of the building before he turns the truck on rumbles towards home. Home to his too-small house and his upset wife.

But at least he knows he's a good Daddy.

[beanghostprincess]

Rayleigh and Buggy reunion, but Rayleigh is being over the top judgemental about everything, like idk if u are familiar with crazy ex girlfriend the TV show but Rayleigh shows up and acts exactly like Rebecca's mom does. Overcritical of his life choices and dismissive of what he perceives as excuses coming from Buggy, because he knows Buggy's true potential and is annoyed with Buggy not living up to it. He gives Crocodile a once over and goes "is that what you found to replace Shanks with" and moves on and Crocodile doesn't even have a moment to compute the way he was just insulted because Rayleigh has moved on to criticising Mihawk's cooking instead. Worst part is, this all comes from a genuine place of love and care, Rayleigh is legitimately worried sick about his baby clown son of 39 years, but he cannot express that worry without being extremely invasive about everything. Buggy isn't even responding, he just shoots ppl apologetic looks and rolls his eyes when Rayleigh isn't looking because of course he does this obviously Buggy is never good enough for him and Shanks had always been the favourite (you ask Shanks or any other Roger pirate and they will tell you that Buggy is Rayleigh's baby boy and absolute favourite with utmost confidence, too bad the emotional constipation runs in the crew). Dinner is awkward as fuck, because Rayleigh makes attempts at being easygoing but his motherhenning nature irt Buggy shines through, his conviction that Buggy would be happier with Shanks by his side is making him be overcritical of everyone in that dinner and he keeps discussing the good old days and subtly hinting at Buggy that there is still time for him to go back to Shanks....and Buggy looks close to frustrated tears (and everyone agrees, Crocodile has snapped 5 cigars in half with his teeth and Mihawk is 5 seconds away from banging his head on the table).

Just overbearing father Rayleigh being stifling and trying to overcompensate for his shit parenting choices during Buggy's childhood and Buggy having his daddy issues expanded upon (and Crocodile and Mihawk gaining insight to Buggy's entire deal)

"Idk if u are familiar with crazy ex girlfriend the TV sho-" My therapist literally told me to stop watching it so much because it was affecting my mental health. So. Yes. I know the show. It's one of my favorite shows EVER. Rebecca is just like me fr my beloved. All of them my beloveds. The songs my beloveds. Don't make me go into CEG x OP because I won't finish. And as you can see, I did not listen to my therapist.

Even though I've always seen Rayleigh as the one who understands Buggy the most (Roger and him love Shanks and Buggy equally but it is quite obvious they put more pressure on Shanks to be more like Roger and that only made things worse by making Buggy's inferiority complex exist) and the one who stands up more for him and comforts him when needed, it is true that he might be more judgemental and he'd be worried for Buggy. Like. Think about it. Roger died and the kids (their kids) ended up alone and going their own separate ways. For Rayleigh, finding out Shanks and Buggy aren't together is just?? So weird?? Because they've always been together. Birds of a feather (if somebody mentions the song 'Two Birds' I am punching them because I can't handle that song today please). And it's just... Well, surprising. 'But as long as they're okay' but they're obviously not okay!!! And it's not that Rayleigh is judging Buggy. In fact, I think he would do the same with Shanks. The second Rayleigh sees Shanks he's already saying he drinks too much (even for a pirate) and that he's been acting recklessly and "What the fuck are you doing without Buggy? Is this because of Buggy?" / "I do not drink because of him. It's- It's not about him. He left-" / "HE LEFT AND YOU DIDN'T DO ANYTHING?????" / "I hate it when you get like this" / "Like what?" / "Like you want to still do something about my life. I'm an adult, thank you very much-" / "No, you're not if you keep acting this way". And I personally think Rayleigh would just be worried for the both of them and also feel extremely guilty because he wasn't there to fix things when they fought, the way he always did. "The second I left you alone you two start a fight that lasts two decades?" and he would say this to both of them and they would hate it.

But yeah, going back to Buggy I think he'd be worried because. Well. Have you seen Crocodile and Mihawk? I mean. They're kind of on good terms with Buggy now (more or... More or less. Kind of. They're not equals but they're some sort of weird thing and they respect and care for each other. More or less. It's- It's complicated. Don't ask) but they're still them. And Rayleigh can't help but see the situation and be like "I'm proud you made a name of yourself, kid, but you don't have to do this if you don't want to" (meaning: You could go back to Shanks any time you wanted) and Buggy takes it as an "You could go back to Shanks any time you wanted because you'd be safer with him" instead of the real "You could go back to Shanks any time you wanted because you'd be happier with him and this war of pride and hearts you have going on is dumb". And he understands Buggy needs to be away from Shanks to grow, but it's just so, so sad to see them like this when they used to love each other so damn much.

Also, I think Buggy would be going through the worst moment of his life and Crocodile and Mihawk would be so done for different reasons. First, they don't give a fuck about all of this drama. And second, they are starting to see Buggy more like a person and understand why he is the way he is, and the things Rayleigh is saying are bothering them a lot. They've been trying to make the clown move on from his past so he's useful for once (because when he believes in himself he's actually not a burden and more interesting) and now this guy (that they respect because it's Silvers Fucking Rayleigh) comes and tries to change things around here? Nope. Not happening.

So basically, what you're trying to tell me is that Rayleigh regrets raising the boys that way and now he's overcompensating and it's overwhelming for everyone, right? I- I love it. Great plot. 10/10. In character. Perfect. It makes me go insane. I love their daddy issues.

(Also, can we talk about how "This Was a Shit Show" and "What'll it be" are extremely Buggy songs??? Because- Because now I want to-)