#forced regression for money

[diapereddoe]

There there sweetie. Let all those icky grown up thoughts out of your head. Your only job is to be an adorable little baby on display. The dumber you look the happier you’ll make daddy. These home movies are going to sell nicely online. I have several pre orders from your old friends in college. I think they said something about airing it at your reunion. Diapers don’t grow on trees sweetie, it’s not my fault the world loves watching your descent into babyhood. Since filling your pampers is the only thing you seem to be good at we had to figure out a way for you to contribute to this household. Is that drool? There ya go sweetie, put on a show.

[oflgtfol]

i was talking to my therapist last week about how i'm kinda excited but also equally apprehensive about starting grad school this fall because yes, i so so desperately needed a gap year otherwise i think i literally would have killed myself and/or had a breakdown big enough to land me in the hospital, and even beyond that i just needed to figure out a more concrete plan of what i'm going to do with my life in general -- while all of that is true, and i'm glad i took the gap year for it, i'm also apprehensive because i genuinely feel like an entirely different person than i was even at this exact point in time last year, nevermind anything earlier than that. it's only been a single year of me being out of school but my life has changed so dramatically, mostly for the better, and my whole personality has flipped on its head, it's just going to be so fucking weird going back to the same school, the same campus, potentially seeing my old friends around. augh

[adultbabystories]

Foolish Plans

Could you do it? It’s worth a try, isn’t it? But so many things are against you.

You were thinking about a way to escape while lying there.

You have no money, cell phone, wallet, or passport. You agreed that Daddy would take all of it when you stepped into his house. It was a condition you had to agree to if you wanted to experience what he promised. So even if you escaped, you cannot get anywhere or contact someone. Sometimes Daddy likes to hand you a toy shaped like a phone, then he holds one to his ear and tries to speak with you. Most times you answer and blubber into the toy in your hand.

You have no adult clothes. Daddy took the small trolley you brought and the rest of your stuff. The adult clothes you had on, he forced you to cut them all while you sat on his knees, naked. Now you are dressed only in big baby’s clothes. You know where the onesies, shortalls, and playsuits are, but you don’t have a clue where you could find a decent adult’s pieces.  It’s cold outside, would you go out in your long-sleeved onesie? Daddy likes to put you in the most babyish baby-printed clothes. He’s holding your arm up, points at a certain animal, and tells you a story about it. You sit and listen.

You can’t hold it anymore. For some reason you can’t hold it anymore, number 1 and number 2. You just go in your diaper, sometimes even when you are not noticing. By now you need your diapers, and sometimes even relieved you’re wearing one. It’s easier just to let go. Even if you walk out, you can’t just take off the diaper and go naked, you’ll make a mess. Daddy likes to flip you over the changing mat and pat your thick diaper bum. You’re sure he enjoys the thumping sound of the thickness.

You are nowhere and don’t know the language. Daddy took you from the airport after you agreed to his terms online and when you met him for a coffee in a restaurant next to the airport. The drive was long and you fell asleep. When you woke up before arriving at his house, you drove for at least an hour in a thick forest. After a month of regression treatment, while playing in your playpen, Daddy greeted his old friends inside. You just sat there, blushing. You couldn’t understand one word, you don’t know their language. At some point, one of Daddy’s bearish friends came to play with you and your toys. He spoke to you like any adult would speak with a toddler, but you felt that way completely because you couldn’t understand him at all. You tried to say something to him but for him, it was like a baby was speaking to him.

You were so upset that you started to sob. You were lying in your crib after Daddy put you to sleep. Your plans were so foolish, they would never work. Why did you agree to it? You thought it would be only a week, and by now you can’t tell how much time has passed. Your cries went through the baby monitor.

Daddy opened the door slowly and spoke in the foreign language. You don’t understand it, but you do recognize a few words. You thought he said the words ‘baby’ and ‘sleep’, then he caressed your face. His touch was so warm and loving. It made you feel a bit better. Then he said the word for ‘pacifier’ and you automatically opened your mouth, because up until that point you didn’t want to suck on it, although you were frustrated and wanted to. Now when you were nursing on it while Daddy was caressing your cheeks, you calmed down. He spoke to you in such a calming tone, that you were less scared and upset. You felt peace again. He gently grabbed the front of your diaper, and you felt wetness and warmth, which grounded you to the situation.

Daddy turned on the mobile above you and left the room quietly. Maybe it’s not as bad as you thought. You were sucking on your pacifier rhythmically, drifting on to sleep in your nursery.

“Just one more night, then I’ll think of a plan” was your last thought before the lullaby put you to sleep.

[tinylilacbun]

Leverage

Summary: Rafe owes Barry a lot of money and the pogue is done with waiting, so he takes the only thing that gets the Cameron boy moving.

Pairing: daddy!rafe x little!reader, barry x little!reader

Warnings: age regression, dark themes, kidnapping, drugging, swearing, happy ending, set in season 1, word count: 1,4k

•─────⋅☾⋅─────•

You hum to the current song that's playing from your phone as you apply body lotion onto your skin, having just finished taking a bath and getting ready for the day.

Rafe is already out and about. He did ask if you wanted to come with him but you rather wanted to sleep in.

After you finish spreading the lotion everywhere you put on your clothes, a plaid skirt and pastel colored shirt to match and fits your headspace as you start to feel like regressing, fixing your hair a little before grabbing your phone and leaving the bathroom.

You make your way downstairs to eat some breakfast, ascend the stairs and walk past the entrance hallway, stopping in your tracks when you see the front door slightly open.

"Sarah? Wheezie?" You call out, getting no response as the house is completely empty, or so you thought.

Before you could take another step, a hand clamps over your mouth, muffling your screams as you trash in the intruder's arms, breathing heavily and suddenly starting to feel dizzy as you inhale a rather sweet scent.

"You can thank Rafe for this, sugar." You hear a familiar voice whisper in your ear just as your vision turns black.

When your eyes finally flutter open again you groan softly, sitting up on the creaky mattress as you try to get your bearings, lifting your hands only to find them tied together with rope that's tightly looped around the bedframe and tug on it.

You frown, your fuzzy brain getting a little more clear as you look around the room you're in, taking how messy it is and the smell of weed and other stuff you don't even figure out lingering in the air.

Your body jolts when you hear footsteps approaching the room, pulling your knees up and tense as the door unlocks and opens with a creak.

There stands Barry, with a cigarette between his lips and a twisted smile forming on his face. You barely know him, he's Rafe's dealer and that's about it.

Well, you only know his name, that hes a pogue, and now partly dangerous.

"G'morning there, pretty girl." He drawls, stepping into the room and beside the bed.

You instinctively scoot as far as your bound wrists let you, your lip trembling as the fear creeps up about not knowing what he's gonna do or why you're here in the first place.

"Easy. M'not gonna hurt you, I mean, unless you decide to be difficult." He chuckles, reaching out to pat your head in a patronizing way before taking a drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke in your direction. "Sorry that I had to drag you into this shit but your loverboy messed up bad this time, and I ain't gonna let myself be fucked around with."

"R-Rafe? What did he do?" You ask shakily, and hoping for your life that he's already on his way to get you because you can feel yourself panicking and regressing because of this whole situation.

"You see, he owes me 20 grand and has been late on paying it back. I'm done waiting and to get his ass moving, I have to motivate him a little, and what better way is there than you, his sweet girl." He explains, dubbing his cigarette out in an ashtray on the nightstand.

He pulls out your phone, looking back at you expectantly. "Code?" You keep your mouth shut, which seems to be a mistake when he narrows his eyes, leaning closer to your face. "Listen, either you tell me willingly or I'll force it out of you."

"2406..." You mutter out. it's the date you and Rafe got together.

"There, good choice." He murmurs, getting into your contact list and looking for Rafe's number, lifting the phone to his ear after hitting the call button.

"Baby? Where are you? I thought-" Rafe starts when Barry cuts him off.

"Country club, haven't heard from you in a while." Barry greets him enthusiastically. "A'ight, let's get this straight. I got your girl here and if you want her back in one piece you get me my money. I'll give you 24 hours."

"Barry, I swear if you touch a single hair on her head I'll-" Rafe is about to threaten him.

"You're not really in the position for making any threats, y'know?" Barry teases him.

"Let me talk to her." Rafe demands and Barry holds the phone to your ear with a smirk.

"R-Rafey?" You speak with a tremble in your voice, feeling tears building up in your eyes.

"Baby, are you okay? I'll be there soon, yeah? Just, stay calm and don't do anything. Daddy's gonna handle this, you hear me? I promise." He assures you and you nod even though he can't see you, starting to sniffle.

Barry lifts the phone back to his ear. "20k. 24 hours. And don't you dare pulling any shit, got it?" He warns him before ending the call, tossing your phone out of your reach. "Hungry or thirsty? Don't look at me like that. I may be a criminal but I'm no monster, sugar."

It's been awhile since you woke up. You have been fed and hydrated throughout the whole time, anxiously waiting for Rafe to arrive and save you.

You can't even get yourself to be mad at him for getting you into this whole mess, you just want to be held by him more than anything right now.

You're pulled out of your thoughts when Barry comes into the room again, walking over to you and untangles the rope from the bedframe but keeps your wrists still tied.

He grabs your arm and you yelp in surprise as he yanks you up to stand, pulling you with him while you stumble to try and keep up with him.

As you're dragged into another room relief washes over you when you see Rafe pacing restlessly, holding a black bag tightly in his hand, stopping in his tracks as his eyes lock with yours.

He instinctively attempts to take a step towards you but stops again when Barry pulls out his gun, pressing it to your side. "Tsk, tsk, tsk, you know better. Money first."

Rafe scowls but tosses the open bag onto the coffee table, the many bundled stacks of money visible as he holds his hand out. "Now let her go."

Barry nods, tilting his head a little to glance at you . "I'll miss your company." He breathes into your ear before he lets you go, tucking his gun into the waistband of his pants, looking back at Rafe. "Don't run off, gotta count it first."

Without hesitation you crash into Rafe's body, holding onto his shirt with all your might as you start to cry into his chest, all the while Barry sits down on his worn out couch and starts to count the money.

Rafe hurriedly unties your wrists, rubbing his thumb carefully over the slight rope burns, his chest feeling tight at your quiet whimper and wraps his arms tightly around you.

You instantly wrap your arms around him, gripping onto the back of his shirt.

"Shh, it's okay now, I got you..." He shushes you, his one hand holding the back of your head, pressing a reassuring kiss to your temple. "I'm sorry."

A few minutes later you hear Barry whistle, turning your head a little to face him as Rafe tightens his hold on you, afraid to let you go. "You're good to go, country club. See this as a warning as to what happens the next you think to fuck with me."

Not even answering, Rafe simply picks you up bridal style and leaves the trailer with you clinging to him desperately, making his way to his truck.

"I really didn't mean for this to happen, y'know that, right?" He asks as he keeps walking, feeling you nod against him.

"I knows...s'okay." You hiccup, nuzzling your face in his neck to inhale his cologne. "Was really scared, daddy."

"I know, I know. Daddy makes sure to never ever let this happen again, yeah?" He promises, setting you down in the passenger seat and buckling your seat belt, reaching up to wipe some of your tears away. "I love you, more than anything."

You give him a smile, leaning into his touch. "Luv you more..."

He leans closer to peck your lips before shutting the car door, walking over to the driver's side and hopping in.

Quickly turning on the engine he drives away from Barry's trailer, placing his hand on top of your thigh in a protective and reassuring way, occasionally squeezing or rubbing your soft skin.

[babiebom]

Heyyy! I was wondering if u could do the bachelors & bachelorettes reactin to / dating an s/o who has really intense nose bleeds when they're stressed. But plot twist bc this is literally the norm for the farmer bc they have crippling anxiety, especially social.

Thank u sm!!

A/N: I don’t know why I thought this was funny??? My anxiety just makes my stomach upset but a nosebleed in front of everyone like some sort of anxious demon is funny. Not the clean up tho. I’ve never had a nosebleed but I know they bleed SO MUCH. Also no problemo!!! Always glad to get requests!! I did different things (so not just stressed because I would’ve written the same thing for anyone I made crush aspects as sort of for stress too lmao) for each hopefully they’re good enough!

Tw: cursing, blood, anxiety, the nose bleeds are VERY dramatic because it’s fiction lmao. Physical fights(in Leah’s part), arguments(in almost all of them). Pierre hate Pam hate(kinda) Demetrius hate Morris hate. And Kel is gender neutral! let me know if there’s anything else to tag!

Wc: idk lmao hopefully at least 100 words for each

Stardew Masterlist

Sebastian:

Just frowns

Actually helps unexpectedly

….we can never talk about this happening again if you want……

It’s not often that you get to see the towns resident emo, even after visiting Robin multiple times for various building needs. So when you wander into the house, looking for Robin so you can upgrade your coop, seeing him makes your brain malfunction.

“Oh…hey farmer.” He greets, moving past you to head further into the house. You blink for a second before returning the greeting, watching as his dark hoodie disappears behind a wall.

You try to force your breathing to slow down. There is absolutely NO reason you should be this worked up over a literal one second conversation. While you sit with your thoughts, foot steps fill your ears and the sight of Sebastian returning from wherever he went makes all of your progress regress. “So…you here waiting for my mom?”

You nod quickly, clearing your throat, “yeah…um…just need to upgrade my chicken coop.”

“Oh well, she’s not in today. She usually goes to Pierre’s store to work out with the other moms.”

You frown to yourself, how did you miss that she wouldn’t be in today? Damn now all you can think about is how you just made a fool of yourself. Lost in your thoughts, you miss that Sebastian had cleared his throat a couple times until he waves a hand in front of your face.

“If you want, I can take your order and tell her when she gets home later. That way she can get started tomorrow.”

“Would you?” Your heart flips as you perk up. Was he usually this nice? You kinda heard from Robin herself that Sebastian never really interacted with people he wasn’t already friends with.

“Yeah sure.” He shrugs and moves to go around the counter, setting his slowly cooling food down. “Okay so she usually charges 10,000g and you have to have 400 logs of wood and 150 things of stone. Sound right?”

You nod and hand over the bag of money. The second your hands touch it’s like your body decided it couldn’t handle anything else from him. Luckily he just takes the money and pretends like your nose hasn’t become a geyser as you scramble to try to keep the blood from dripping all over their furniture.

Sam:

WOAH DUDE IS THAT LIKE….NORMAL?

it’s like from a movie or something

Is overall sorta scared but at the same time thinks it’s cool

“And this is how I do a kick flip!” Sam shows you skateboard trick after trick and honestly you can’t get enough of it. It wasn’t a secret that the both of you had crushes on each other, and even now it was very obvious by how you were watching him do his tricks that you had feelings for him. Yet still you two weren’t in a relationship, just sort of friends who like each other in a romantic sort of way.

“You’re so cool!” You clap as he lands another trick.

“And you’re cute!”

“What?”

You freeze in your spot and watch in confusion as he sort of freezes midway through his next trick and crashes to the ground. His words echo in your head, making your face heat up and your heart soar. He smacks his face on the ground, sending you into a panic because now all you can think about is how he thinks you’re cute, and now how he probably has a concussion from hitting his face directly onto the concrete.

When he lifts his face off the ground, you’re kneeling next to him, trying to check on him. His forehead is bleeding, his nose is bleeding, and so is his mouth. You shriek and try to go through your backpack to see if you have anything to help him. You didn’t.

You already know where this is leading, and you let out a groan of annoyance right before your nose starts leaking just like his. His eyes widen and he lets out a loud laugh. Maybe you two can move out of the weird friendship you have after all.

Shane:

Would just stare silently

Like no comments no nothing

Doesn’t even act like it’s happening

Having a part time job at Joja Mart during the winter is one of the absolute worst ideas that you’ve had in a while. But you didn’t make a lot during your first year of farming. Stacking the products onto the shelves, your only saving Grace is the fact that you’re allowed to have earphones in. Except for the fact that Pam is now standing next to you asking loudly about where something is. Shane is stacking the shelves behind you.

“I don’t know Pam…the alcohol is probably on the wall in the back.” You frown at her. She obviously knows that you don’t know this store that well, you were a FARMER that NEVER shopped here before. She rasps out another question and it takes everything in you to not snap at her. Trying to calm yourself of course there’s gonna be something else that makes you lose your mind. That something is Morris, coming over and being the absolute WORST and in turn making Pam LOUDER and more insistent.

He’s lecturing you, Pam is agreeing with him way too loudly, the music on your headphones is now overwhelming instead of calming, and the sound of random things in the market is making you want to bite a chunk out of the loaves of bread in front of you, plastic and all. With everything building up inside of you, you already know what’s going to happen. It always happens, but instead of excusing yourself you stand there, staring Morris down as the blood begins to flow from your nostrils.

Pam yells out curses and Morris begins to stutter, but behind them Shane just stares for a second before continuing to work. When you’re finally left alone with him in the aisle as your two stressors hastily take their leave, all he does is let out a dry chuckle.

“Sam has a hell of a mess to clean up…”

Alex:

Oh DUDE your nose is like….LEAKING

Doesn’t help

Just watched and comments

“AND THEN HE HAS THE NERVE TO TELL PEOPLE THAT MY HARVESTS ARE HIS BUT HE ONLY DOES IT IF ITS GOOD!” You rant to the brown haired boy, pacing back and forth in his room. Thankfully both Evelyn and George were out so you weren’t bothering anyone except for the man in front of you.

You huff and puff as he watches, slightly amused slightly concerned. Alex wasn’t the best person to go to when you’re upset unless it was something absolutely devastating. So being in front of him now, complains about your farming woes meant that he was only half ass taking it seriously. “You should go and speak your mind.” He says.

Turns out you should NOT take advice from Alex. Standing in Pierre’s shop, you’re staring him down angrily, anxiety creeping up your throat from you trying to will yourself to call him out on his bullshit. The older man just kind of stares at you in confusion because all you had done was shout his name angrily as you entered the shop then stand in front of him seething.

“You….you…..” you point a finger at him. This was the moment, the moment you stand up for yourself and tell Pierre how HORRIBLE he is!

But of course things don’t work how you want and your nose gushes out blood all over the counter before you can work yourself up to the point of accusations. With a gasp you run out of the shop, hoping that he would keep his mouth shut with Alex running behind you laughing. Again, NEVER let Alex talk you into anything.

Elliott:

Panics

How do I help PLS LET ME HELP

Everything probably gets messy

Fishing had never been your favorite pastime, but now trying to fix up the community center you had to. Unfortunately Willy was gone and couldn’t properly teach you even though he had gifted you an old rod of his, so the next best thing is getting your boyfriend to teach you since he does fish often. Now you stand on the docks, waiting for a fish to bite the hook.

“Keep calm, the fish can feel your fear and it makes them upset.” Elliott spoke. In all honesty you didn’t even know if that was true or not, but you take in a breath to calm down. You did not want to be here all day you had cows to pet.

The second your line begins to pull you try to pull the fish in. And you succeed until it comes time to unhook the eel you managed to catch. The eel is slimy and slippery and all around not a good thing to try to grip. A shriek leaves your lips and the eel struggles, Elliott tries to help you but is also struggling to catch hold of it. And now your nose is bleeding adding another layer to the already hellish experience.

You’re unhappy, the eel is unhappy, and Elliott is unhappy. After what seems like an hour, the stupid thing slips out of your grips and back into the ocean, washing your nose blood off of it and splashing you with saltwater. 0 out of 10 you will not be trying again.

Harvey:

Calm but concerned(after panicking for a second)

Has a doctory approach to it

But is secretly like WTF inside

Your heart thumps in your chest as you sit on the clinic bed. It’s been a while since you’ve been in Harvey’s clinic, having taken a break from the mines, and somehow this seems more shameful than having been beaten almost to death by living slime. Your hands bleed into the cloth you have pressed into it. One of the pigs knocked you over into the broken fence you were in the middle of fixing. Now you sit waiting for the good looking Doctor.

When he walks in he’s all smiles, tapping his clipboard with his pen. “While I’m sad to see that you’re injured, I’m glad to see it isn’t from those mines again.” The eye contact he makes with you makes your heart twist for a second.

He starts speaking of all the shots you need and the antibiotics you need to take, rust poisoning is quite serious you know. “Now,” he says, moving towards you, “let me see your hand.”

Your heart thumps erratically at the close proximity of him and you. You only really ever got to see him this close when you were half dead and barely conscious. His face is much too close for you to be able to do anything but focus on how pretty his eyes are, and how fluffy his mustache is, and how…

“OH MY DEAR YOBA” He yelps and jumps away from you. It takes only a second after him to realize what’s going on, and now your furiously wiping away at your nose with your hands instead of with the cloth, and he’s trying to get something on your nose to catch the blood. It’s a disaster, really. But at least you’re already in a clinic!

Penny:

Probably panics

Doesn’t know how to deal with it

Would try to help though

The warmth of the pool in the spa did nothing to ease your nerves as you waded in the shallow end of the pool. Penny had invited you to come sometime after 7 pm, and when you had arrived she was already waiting for you, kicking her feet in the pool. The thought of her asking you here made your stomach turn, did you do something wrong…? Was she inviting you here to tell you she hated you or something…? You had grown close to her over your time here and would hate it if she thought you were too much or something.

“Do you know why I invited you here?” She asks, moving closer but keeping her eyes on the water.

You shake your head, “I’m not exactly sure, no.”

She frowns and sighs at you, meeting your eyes for a fleeting second then looking elsewhere. “Really? I thought you would’ve noticed by now…” her words trail off and her eyebrows furrow.

The next few seconds are ones that you simultaneously want to remember for forever and forget. She confesses her feelings for you. Feelings that you obviously reciprocate, and the emotions in you mix and grow, rising up your throat as if you were a volcano of conflicting feelings. As soon as you open your mouth to tell her that yes, you like her too, her face morphs into one that’s horrified instead of hopeful, disgusted instead of smitten and you realize a second after she does that your nose is spouting red, dyeing the water you both were swimming in.

Penny shrieks for a solid second before trying to scramble out of the water as fast as she can. You do the same, swirling the red around the pool as both of you splash trying to exit the now crime scene looking pool. When you get out of the water, she’s holding a towel right in your face, smooshing it so hard you can barely breathe and now your nose is throbbing with slight pain. “What do we do?!” She asks moving about quickly. She’s so confused that she just keeps walking and turning as if she’s remembering and forgetting things at the same time.

You just tilt your head downward and cringe inwardly, this was not the way to get a girl to like you. “It’s fine…I’m fine,” you say voice nasally and muffled. “And I like you too by the way.”

Haley:

confused staring

wtf is happening

Actually speechless

It isn’t every day that you get to talk to a beautiful blonde. It isn’t even every day that you talk to anyone. So when she approaches you on one of your trips off of your farm you couldn’t help but feel like either everything is out to get you or that you’re up on your luck. You don’t really know for sure, it honestly depends on how things go.

“Hey farmer!” She smiles as soon as she stops in front of you, the feeling of your stomach twisting makes you want to vomit in all of your nervousness. “I have a favor to ask you…”

“Yeah?” You ask trying to keep your cool. “What is it?”

“I would totally love love LOVE you forever if you could bring me an amethyst? It’s for Emily’s birthday and I don’t really like Clint so I don’t wanna buy anything from him. I’m willing to pay 150g!”

You cough into your fist, nodding along and taken aback by how casually she’s speaking to you. Before you can accept doing her the favor, the horrified look on your face makes your words falter.

She looks absolutely horrified, and touching your hand to your face you can feel why. Your nose started dripping blood, and by dripping you mean you can now feel it running down to your chin. A flurry of curses leave your mouth as confused noises leave hers. It's not much of a surprise that this has happened, but man did you wish it wasn't in front of her.

Emily:

Surprisingly chill about it

Probably has a weird story about a nosebleed or something

Actually helps

You sit at the bar alone, upset at a horrible farming day. You tried your best, you really did, but those stupid ass crows actually ate ALL of your seedlings. Or…almost all of them but that’s basically the same thing! There is no way you’re gonna make enough to make it through winter comfortably. You told Emily exactly this, appreciative of her listening ear in the middle of her busy shift.

“You know they probably didn’t mean it…or maybe they did,” she sucks in a breath eyebrows furrowing as she thinks, “you know crows are very smart they probably know that you’re using that land to farm and stay there because of all the free food.”

“But it’s not free!” You exclaim, throwing your hands up in annoyance, “I have to buy those seeds! They’re just putting me into debt!”

She hums and nods, wiping the bar next to you where a person had just left. You had only a couple months left until the snow started falling and making it virtually impossible to grow anything. The little plants you had left you had to fight the crows for. And by fight I mean you angrily swung a broom at the with the intent of scaring them (not hitting them that’s mean). Still the growing anger inside you was not easily crushed by her warm and quite frankly outlandish words. No, in fact your anger grew the more you thought about it.

You felt it coming before anything had even exited your nose, hurriedly snatching the rag from Emily’s hands. Damn now you would have to buy the bar a new one. She just blinks then nods as if your nose becoming a bloody waterfall was normal.

“You know…nose bleeds cause by stress is usually because your heart rate and blood pressure increase and it causes your blood vessels to dilate!”

You stare at her before laughing. Maybe she was helpful after all.

Abigail:

WOAH

WTF

WHAT DO WE DO?

You stand in front of Pierre in front of the shop, arms crossed as you watch his face grow redder the longer time goes on. “-IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH MY DAUGHTER?” You’re not really listening to his tirade, over the whole ‘protective dad’ thing.

“Dad I’m an adult! You have no say in who I date!” Abigail yells back, face equally red. Who would’ve known that he would have a problem with the farmer he rips off constantly dating his daughter?

He yells out more reasons that the two of you shouldn’t be dating, and in turn points a finger into your chest roughly. You sputter out an offended sound, moving away from him. “Don’t touch me!”

“You shouldn’t be touching my daughter!”

“What? Dude we just started dating, you’re weird as hell!”

The arguing only gets worse from there, accusations flying around and now an audience comes with the drama. It’s almost too much for you to handle with now Caroline, Harvey, Haley, and the Milner family standing and watching the chaos. “Abby let’s just go to my place…” you try suddenly feeling the need to escape and no longer feeling the ‘fuck you dude’ attitude.

“No! He needs to understand that he can’t control my life!”

It’s like a volcano in your body and just like a volcano your nose begins to erupt. Now you’re screaming, Abigail is screaming, Pierre is screaming, the Mullners are screaming. Could this get any worse?

Turns out yeah, it can get any worse, like a family fight worse and now all of you are sitting in Harvey’s clinic. At least you aren’t the only bloody one now.

Maru:

Is surprised

Also forgets what to do

Would probably make things worse

Maru talks about robots and space the way you would talk about her: totally and completely enamored. You sit on her bed listening to her talk about her newest invention, some sort of robot that can cook and clean and basically be a free maid. You laugh and move your arm to get in a more comfortable position to watch her. Unfortunately your arm had other plans and smacked hard into her bed post. Groaning out in pain, your eyes close and begin to water from how much your elbow hurt.

Demetrius is in your face before you even realize that he was in the room. You yelp out in surprise as he starts ranting about you ruining his daughter’s future. You blink in surprise and try to retreat back into the mattress. What was happening. You can hear Maru screaming over his words but your ears feel like they’re filled with water.

“We’re just friends!” You find yourself shouting. Like damn is the man insane? It wasn’t the first time he’s gotten upset at you over Maru, but it was the first time that he was absolutely losing his mind.

“Dad stop!”

Time froze for a second as you and Demetrius stared at each other, Maru standing near him. Breathing in you can taste blood in your mouth before your nose starts bleeding, yet you can’t bring yourself to do anything but sit and catch your breath.

“Oh my god!” Both Demetrius and Maru exclaim moving around the room trying to find something to help. You couldn’t help but feel annoyed at him acting concerned now.

Thankfully Maru looked cute trying to help you which at least made things a little better.

Leah:

Is also freaking out on the inside but calm on the outside

Helps you with tissues

Is understanding

Going on a date with Leah is a dream come true. There’s paint, wine, food, and you’re sitting in the prettiest meadow you’ve ever seen, well it’s pretty because Leah is there and she’s pretty and you’ve been here multiple times because it’s near her cottage but it still looks different today.

You sit, paintbrush in hand, laughing at something she’s saying. It’s fun and if she hadn’t have asked you would’ve spent the day farming like usual, this little break was needed. The day couldn’t be ruined, absolutely nothing can ruin it.

Okay, one thing can ruin it and that one thing is Kel coming and ruining everything. The argument that ensues is one of the worst that you’ve seen. Kel tries to walk up on you(translation: Kel wants to fight you), Leah stops them but in turn gets into a fight with them which causes you to actually get up and try to defend her.

You kinda block out until you can hear Kel call out “I made your nose bleed bitch!” Which again causes you to want to drown in your anger.

“My noses is bleeding because I’m stressed, stupid!” You back. It’s obvious Kel hadn’t been able to hit your nose so claiming to be able to hit you so hard your nose bleeds isn’t even possible. It’s almost childish how the two of you argue.

Leah finally gets Kel to leave and hands you a bunch of tissues as she sits you down on the now rumpled blanket. As the two of you catch your breath and calm down, you find yourself smiling at her behind the wad of tissues catching blood flowing from your nose.

At least the situation would be funny in the future.

[centrally-unplanned]

I will always be annoyed as a very pro-welfare person that my "camp" is not going to come around to Social Security being Bad, Actually. It is so antiquated! Most crucially, it probably isn't even welfare - the best analyses in my opinion generally view it as neutral, maybe mildly progressive, and maybe even mildly regressive. Maybe your own paper thinks it is more on the progressive side? But it is ~5% of GDP! I do not have to "debate the progressivity" of food stamps, they are obviously insanely redistributive; the opportunity cost of Social Security is huge in this regard because you do in fact have a limited tax budget to play with.

More importantly to me, it is a redistribution from the young to the old in a society where that is becoming quite costly. The "forces of social reproduction", from work to innovation to families, are pretty universally created by the non-retired, and while most people are Doing Fine that doesn't mean we aren't creating unnecessary frictions for all of that. Right now we would all socially be better off "front-shifting" more spending, giving the ~30 year olds more income and the ~70 year olds less - 70 year olds in America are quite rich, they really don't need it.

Meanwhile the reasons for the program have vanished. I get why it was a decent idea in the 1930's - it is an insurance program built around the idea that the elderly can't "bounce back" from economic setbacks since they have a limited ability to work. In a world where bank runs junking someone's savings were common this makes sense. And in a world of fertility rates hitting 4.0+ targets it was easily affordable. But nowadays the idea that the median someone "cannot save for retirement" is very silly, they absolutely can safely and reliably - banks are stable and insured, government bond programs exist, and so on.

Of course, there are those who are too poor to save, which you can address with, like, actual welfare? I won't go down the UBI rabbit hole but it is very silly to fix the problem of elderly poverty with a universal forced savings plan that pays out to people based on their past income. Just give poor people money and cut out all the middleman bullshit.

Which is the rub of course - Social Security works politically precisely because it isn't welfare, it is something "everyone" gets. Which, again as a big UBI proponent, I get, it is how politics works. But that doesn't change the fact that Social Security probably makes most people on net worse off despite how much they defend it, and limits the fiscal capacity for better alternatives. From an ideological lens it isn't a left program, and shouldn't be treated as such. (And it isn't a right program either, but in the US rightwing ideology is pretty incoherent so who knows)

But in the end winning elections is the actual determinant of policy, so may the Democrats continue to worship it - and hopefully get the courage to slip some changes in that people don't notice somewhere down the line.

[jd07201990]

“Oh, come on Chuck! This’ll be my second time! You can’t keep forcing me to work another 40 years, just to make it to retirement and do it all again! It’s not yours or my fault that there aren’t enough young folk to take over our jobs! Hell, maybe if we paid a bit more, the few of them out there would apply!”

“It’s Lieutenant Roth, Billy. Now go change out of that equipment and take a shower. Whatever this remote does to strip away all those years, it sure does leave a young man ripe!”

“Don’t call me Billy! I haven’t been Billy in 30 years! Its Bill Damn it! And how am I supposed to explain this, again! to David?! You know he’s not into, well… this!”

“Put your shirt down Billy and quit your complaining. We’re doing something different this time, changing things up, trying something new. See, we couldn’t afford to pay higher wages all these years, because we’ve been stashing extra money away, for a new program. This remote can do a lot more than just wipe away years, Billy. The company has a whole app-store full of features, but they cost a hell of a lot. We only had enough for 2 new features, and we think it’ll really help solve this town’s aging population issue.”

“Wha… what the hell are you saying? What do you mean, something new?! Chuck, dude… you’re seriously starting to crack! What the fuck does any of this have to do with David?! And who is, “We”?!”

“I’m only going to tell you this once, son. It’s Lieutenant Roth. Now, I guess there’s no beating around the bush with you young-bloods. So I’ll get right to it. “We” is me, the Governor, and the Town Board. We investigated every possible fix, and it comes down to this. All the youth are moving out in droves, going to college, or fleeing to the city for excitement, leaving us aging folk to do the hard work around town. With the remote able to take years off a person, we’ve decided that all our current retirees, in every department, will be regressed, and the new feature we purchased will ensure you all follow your new, youthful instincts, providing us with a full generational bump in population.

You will be the hot-blooded virile stud you were way back in the day; you remember? Except this time, just as David isn’t attracted to this prime of your life look, YOU won’t be attracted to David, or any man for that matter. You see, we need all the help we can get, so with this little app, you’ll be chasing pretty women, and will certainly end up settling down, once one of them catches. Ah, by the look on your face, you know exactly what I mean.

Good, because you and the rest of the retirees are going to have your hands full, working these jobs getting paid just enough for a double-wide and a truck, leaving a trail of gals before you settle in with one, and have a whole mess of kids. "

“Ch… Lieutenant, sir… Wha… you’re insane dude! Fuckin’ totally cracked! You hear yourself! You can’t do this! I can’t be… I can’t chase… I don’t… don’t like…. Fuck… fuck dude… what the fuck are you doing?! Quit pointin’ that shit at me bro! My.. my head!”

“Don’t worry son, I’ll let you off the hook for all that mouthing off. It’s got to be rough having your brain completely flipped inside out, dumped out and filled with everything you need to be a, productive, member of society. Isn’t that right Billy?”

“Wha.. Oh, hey Lieutenant! So uh, is it ok if I head off to the showers and hit the road? Kind of a slow night huh sir? If it’d be alright, I want to go down to the Strip and hit the bar. The dudes and I figured we’d start the weekend early, ya know? Gotta get get some tail on lock before the storms hit. Thinkin’ I might run into Becka too, you know, from Thornton Stables? God she’d look real pretty, all knocked up good n’ proper!”

“Oh alright son. Go ahead, take the night off. But you’re on call. Got it! One or two beers, maybe a shot, take some cash and buy the lass one of those fruity drinks, and you treat her like a lady, young man. Got it?”

“Got it Dude! I mean Lieutenant! I’ll make a lady outa her yet! Thanks for the money too! Ya know how rough it is on the town’s wages! Although you and the Board seem to be doin’ alright. I hope I can get to where you are, Sir!”

“Don’t worry Billy, you’ve got a good 40 years or so to work your way up! Go have fun tonight!”

[247-diaperboy]

Roommate takes control part 5 (The Team)

Jackson met Scott at the local pub which served college kids. Scott was in a tank, cut off shorts, and flip flops - his stained ballcap backwards. They grabbed a beer and took a seat. Scott was a long term bro - he was straight, but was always one of the ring leaders for hazing for the hockey and lacrosse teams.

Jackson didn't waist any time. He walked Scott through the situation. His roomie was a hot gay jock, gymnastics and soccer. He was playful. He had been turned on at being forced to wear diapers, and Jackson had gotten the idea to do an online order for some subluminal hypnosis tapes.

"Let me get this straight: your gay roommate, who's one of our gymnastics and lacrosse players, is now wearing diapers full time?"

"Yeah, dude, I know its wacked. But this guy Mason really gets off on it. And - I thought - he could be a team mascot of sorts, ya know. I also hit on a big time money maker on OnlyFans. I found this ebay seller who provided this submission tapes for kinky gay guys - it has a bunch of chapters, but basically, he claims it'll make Mason want to use the diapers, and through his need to use the diapers, he'll start doing it unconsciously. That's the first couple chapters, after that there are some service options - basically make him cock hungry - and some regression and submission options in later chapters where he'll regress and wanna please other guys he sees as dominant"

"Shiiiiiiiit" Scott intoned while sipping his beer. "And he's going along with this? And what's the OnlyFans about?"

Jackson took a sip of his own beer "Yeah, Mason is cute as fuck. You know I'm mostly into girls, but this guy is hot and sucks dick like a champ. And he's taking to the hypnosis and regression tapes pretty quick. The seller said he must have strong innate interest in this stuff to be adapting so easily." Jackson paused and continued quietly. "And the OnlyFans was set up as a jock-to-sub pay site. Basically, these kinky guys all signed up to watch this guy's regression, which probably means we need to get some baby stuff mixed in. And the money is serious."

Scott whistled as Jackson showed him his phone with the OnlyFans account. "You gonna split that with the team buddy?" Scott asked

"Yes! That's the whole plan. If we can all get this done, I think the team could be set for the playoff trip - fully funded with hotels and everything."

Scott was hooked. Jackson spent the next hour walking him through the plan, and Scott agreed to get the rest of the guys on board. At the end, Scott asked to come back with Jackson to the room to see Mason.

As they walked in, Mason was at his computer, his desk chair pulled back from the desk, and his legs folded indian style. His diaper was the only thing he was wearing. the crotch of the diaper was clearly wet, grayish yellow and sagging slightly. Scott followed Jackson into the room.

"Hiya Mason" Scott said as he walked in

Mason looked up from his laptop. "Uhhh..." he blushed and looked from Jackson to Scott "Who's this Jackson?" he asked

"This is Scott Terrygold, one of co-captains of the soccer team" Jackson said. "Don't worry, buddy, Scott knows all about your situation, with the diapers and he doesn't mind." He looked to Scott, who smiled broadly.

"Of course. Can you stand up for me Mason?" Scott asked. In response Mason unfolded his legs and slowly stood up. Scott took a couple steps forward and slipped the index and middle finger of his right hand into the waist of Mason's diaper. "Yeah, some guys just need a little extra protection" Scott said slowly. "Absolutely nothing wrong with that. I think you'll find that most of my bros will be happy to help" Scott said, grinning broadly.

[ketprincxss304]

hi. my name isn't important, call me whatever gets you going. amy if you insist. i'm 30 years old. they/them or it/its but once again, can be whatever you want me to be if it's hot.

disorganized selfie tag

text posts into: force fem, force masc, dehumanization/objectification, misogyny kink, incest, cnc, forced freeuse, freeuse society, intox/forced intox, age play, forced regression, sexualizing my own history of abuse/trauma, breath play, pain in general, doing things i don't like because it doesn't matter what i like, forced breeding/painful birth, being knotted, being fisted, DP/TP, gang bang/free use, sexualizing abuse/dv dynamics, piss, pup play

everything is assumed to be between consenting adults. i do not condone actual crimes.

im a trans queer sex worker who is just having a little bit of fun. most of my sexual energy goes into making content for other people. to the extent im delaying making changes to my body because i know how to make money online in this body and dont want to make it any harder for myself tbh. sometimes i want to explore/think about/talk about kinks that are hot to me that i would not feel safe or comfortable doing with a client.

because so much of my presence online is more tame (for my safety) i like having my little hidey hole of depravity. if i feel like you genuinely wish harm on me or are genuinely bigoted i will block immediately.

i’ll never pressure anyone to support me but if you would like to know more about where to find my content DM me.

[bawkrya]

THE ALBUM IS DOGSHIT! GOODNIGHT FOREVER

theres no way this album was made by glass animals bro.

[starkeyshirt]

Kitchen Calls

jj x john b

i wrote this quite while ago! it's not necessarily an age regression story, but i imagine jj as an age dreamer of sorts, so i figured it kind of fits. enjoy!

tw//: abuse, blood, injuries, crying.

<<•>>

    JJ's ribs stung with an undeniable pain; echoing through his body with every kick. Blood dripped from his lips and his vision blurred in and out.

  "Piece of shit!" Luke screamed at his son, kicking him in the ribs one last time before chucking the almost-empty bottle at his head. The glass shattered against JJ's skin, causing it to erupt in an unbelievable amount of pain. "You're the damn reason your momma left, you know it too! Should've killed you a long time ago, boy."

   JJ watched with bleary eyes as his father stomped off, slamming their crappy door against it's hinges. He could hear the stomping until his truck started, then, he was gone. JJ knew he wasn't in the clear; his father would return, and nobody wanted to be around when he came home. Coughing up more blood, the blond boy forced himself into a sitting position. His soft, golden mop fell over his eyes, mixing with sweat, blood, and tears on his face.

  JJ's ribs throbbed almost unbearably as he stood up, leaning against the counter for stability. He was damn sure his stomach was blotches of any color but the pale tan it should be. It always was when his dad was done with him.

  JJ has learned overtime what to simply expect from his dad, what to know was going to happen before it did. He knew what pain was coming when he showed up at home after weeks without money for his dad. He knew what names he would be called, and that he probably wouldn't even make it to his room to grab the belongings he came there for. JJ knew all these things, yet he still went back. He probably always would; until the day his father killed him.

  Somewhere in his slightly brainwashed methods of thinking, JJ completely believed everything his father told him was true; Ungrateful, stupid, useless, unlovable. They were all things his father called him the most, and in some ways, they did in fact apply to JJ.

  He convinced himself he was ungrateful. He still cried when his father gave him what he deserved, even when he did nothing to contribute to their poverty. He did nothing to help his dad; he didn't give him enough money, he pushed him to drink. He was ungrateful.

  JJ convinced himself he was stupid. He failed classes in school and barely tried, too preoccupied with himself to focus on class. He led his friends into dangerous situations with dangerous people, simply because he didn't use his head. He thought with the weed he smoked, and all that did was give him a false sense of confidence. He was stupid.

   He convinced himself he was useless; never really needed to anyone, just there. He mooched off of everyone and everything around him, barely contributing to his friends or his own father. He didn't do them any good, only weighing them down with his own mental and emotional baggage. JJ was useless.

  And most of all, JJ convinced himself he was unlovable. It's the perfect word to describe him, in his own mind. Unable to be loved by his own father, who despises him because of his mother. At one point in time he earned his mother's love, only for her to rip it all away when she left without a warning. Without a goodbye. Unlovable to everyone and anyone, because nobody could love somebody as messed up as JJ Maybank.

  "Fuck!" The blond screamed, fist colliding harshly with the cheaply stained wood creating his father's joke of a kitchen. Tears flowed heavily down his cheeks, an expression filled with none other than emotion on his face. Simple emotion, that's the only way he would put it.

  Cuts from the glass dropped coppery blood down his face, and his ribs pounded from their squished position against his knees. JJ's hands intertwined into his hair, pulling desperately against his blond locks in a weak attempt to stop the wave of emotions threatening to rip through his tear ducts. JJ kept a firm grip on his hair, attempting to stand himself upright to no avail; waves of pain ripped through his ribs, sending him to the ground with a yelp of pain.

  He weakly wiggled his phone from his pocket, punching in a number he had memorized by heart. JJ hated with everything he had to call for help, fully believing he didn't deserve it. But he was wasting time, and he really didn't want to be lying on the floor when his dad stormed in again, more drunk than he was before.

  "J? What's taking you so long, I thought you only went for clothes?" John B's warm, concerned voice broke through the ringing, filling JJ's heart with a love he felt he didn't deserve. Sobs ripped from the boy's mouth; violent, harsh cries filled to the brim with pain and suffering, immediately making John B fill with panic. After all the years he'd been friends with JJ, been with JJ, he'd never heard him cry like that.

"I can't take this anymore," JJ sobbed, hearing the faint start up of their van, the Twinkie, while John B left the chateau. "I'm so tired."

  "Hey, babe, you've gotta breathe. I'm coming to get you, just breathe. Remember what we talked about?" John B soothed, listening to JJ's breathing becoming increasingly uneven and rapid, the boy spiraling himself into an anxiety induced panic attack quickly.

  "Yeah." JJ replied faintly, bringing his left hand up to his face. He held his thumb merely a few centimeters away from his lips, blowing gently onto it. As a kid, JJ would suck his thumb to calm himself down. He stopped by the time he was nine, his father having broken his left thumb after he caught him with it between his lips. Men don't need comfort, was what he had said. From that time until just a few months ago, JJ was at a loss for a way to comfort himself, always spiraling into horrible panic attacks until he'd choke on his own tears and throw up or breathe too fast and pass out. He hated it. After multiple situations in which John B was left to slow his boyfriend's rapid breathing, he noticed how he always had his left hand near his face, fisted with only his thumb out. Anybody else might not have noticed it, but after multiple times, John B caught on. Together, they had done some testing and came up with another thing that helped JJ focus and calm himself, a coping mechanism without the trauma his father caused him so early in his life.

   John B smiled fondly as he sped down the street light roads, listening to JJ softly blowing against his thumb time after time again, his breathing obviously recovering in the slightest.

  "Good boy, J. You're doing so good." John B praised softly, pulling in outside JJ's broken home. He didn't hesitate to fly up the old steps and into the other boy's kitchen.

  The sight would've been deemed precious by John B if it we're for the circumstances. JJ was sat against the cupboards, his right arm tightly around his knees, holding them close to his chest. His thumb was still held against his lips, although his mouth was parted slightly. Instead of blowing on his finger he had settled for resting it in-between his lips, having grown tired of blowing air out of his lungs.

  "Hey, c'mon. Let's get home," John B offered, crouching down carefully next to his wounded boyfriend. JJ shuffled ever so slightly, just enough so John B could swoop one arm under his legs and his other supporting his back. A whine escaped his breath when his ribs were jostled, John shushing him. JJ stuck his face into the other's horrible, horrible brightly colored shirt, breathing in the scent he loved so much.

  John B hummed softly as he carried JJ to the car, hating how small and fragile the boy seemed in his arms. He was probably one of the only people to ever see this side of JJ; he was always cracking jokes and rambling off, making himself the loud, boisterous one of the group to cope. JJ was never sad, and it hurt to see him hurting. John B would never get used to it.

  "Hey, I'm gonna run in and grab your clothes and stuff, okay? I don't want you coming back here for a while," John B explained gently placing the blond down in the front seat. Not much more than a wince escaped his lover's lips, a small nod being given in response to the question. "I'll be right back."

  JJ's busted lip left an imprint of coppery blood on John B's lips when he gave him a small peck, only making the brunette feel guilty. Guilty, only that he couldn't protect his boy.

  John B gathered both things JJ needed and things he knew JJ would want, because those were two completely different things. Shirts, shorts, sunglasses, toothbrush (JB would never admit it out loud, but he truly didn't appreciate sharing his own toothbrush every single morning); all things JJ would need. Then, he tossed in extra hoodies and his blanket, grabbing his fluffy (and in JJ's words very manly) pillow and stuffing it under his arm. That's another thing he's learned about JJ over the years. Despite living in the Outer Banks, the blond boy always insisted on piling himself under as many soft things as he could find after something traumatic happens. It was always a few hours later, after things settled and his wounds or anything else were cared for, but it happened everytime without a doubt. The first few times John B had witnessed JJ do this, he quite frankly thought the boy was going to suffocate himself. Overtime, though, JJ even managed to get John B to join him under all the blankets and pillows, cuddling together as if they were in Antarctica and freezing to death. It was a comfort thing, he supposed.

  The sky was dark already, the day having passed quicker than either boy expected. JJ was slowly bouncing back to his usual self on the way back, still very much hurt and upset, but just a little tiny bit less miserable.

  "C'mon, Princess. It's time for the chateau nurse to take over your injuries," John B joked, playfully bowing down as he opened JJ's car door. He (carefully) scooped the boy into his arms, listening to the small, wet giggles escaping his boyfriend's throat. JJ sniffed repeatedly, having been too stubborn in the car to blow his nose. Sometimes, John B wondered how he ever started dating such an man-child, but he'd love him nonetheless.

  John B carried everything in with only one trip, JJ in his arms, the bag slung over his neck. JJ held onto his pillow. Everything got tossed beside the couch, JJ being set delicately on one of the cushions. John B turned towards the bathroom for their medical supplies. "Don't move."

  "It's not like I'm gonna limp to Figure 8," JJ replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

John B rolled his eyes as well. "Happy to see you're feeling better."

  John B returned within seconds, carrying an arm-load of bandages, antiseptic, cotton rounds, and a joint. He handed JJ the lit joint, placing it in-between the boy's lips directly. John B then bent down to lift JJ's shirt over his head, the smaller blond purposefully blowing the smoke from the joint into his face.

  John B sighed, glancing at the variously unnatural colors covering his boyfriend's midsection. JJ's ribs were swollen black and blue, bits of yellow mixed in with it. It hurt him everytime he had to see his love like that, beaten like a dog by the person supposed to love him most. John B knew JJ saw the look on his face, watching with soft eyes as the boy looked away guilty, looking much like a kicked puppy.

  "Hey, look at me," John B instructed, dragging his hand up to JJ's chin. He redirected his focus, turning his head until the boy was meeting his eyes. "None of this is your fault. You don't deserve to be treated this way, by anyone. You're perfect."

  Instead of avoiding his gaze, blue orbs simply stared into brown ones, a sinful guilt trickling out of them. "I do deserve it, John B. I drove him to be like this."

  "You didn't drive anyone anywhere, JJ. He's not a real man, only an excuse for a coward who takes his own misfortunes out on his child," John be signed, dabbing a cotton rounds with alcohol, bringing it up to JJ's face. "This might sting, bud."

  The alcohol did in fact sting, strangled and suppressed whimpers escaping the blond's lips until John B was finished. "Sh, we're all done now."

  With his face now free of glass shards and blood, the only noticable injuries were the scrapes left and the puffiness of his busted lip. John B could see the tiredness in his boyfriend's eyes, releasing the boy from his couch captivity whilst he left to return the first aid supplies to their normal places.

   JJ was quick to hop back off the couch, scurrying around in a slightly handicapped manner; gathering all the blankets, pillows, and hoodies he could find. He made a small nest on the couch, draping a fuzzy blanket over his bare shoulders, wrapping it around himself before holding it tightly against his chest.

  Bundled up and content with the amount of soft items he found, JJ set off towards John B's bedroom to find the older boy. John B was stood by the bed, preparing to toss an old Heywards hoodie over his bare torso. JJ assumed that Pope left that hoodie at the chateau sometime a year or two ago, and it ended up being one of the 'community' hoodies. JJ was pretty sure everyone in their group had worn it at some point, even Kie.

  John B caught his boyfriend's eye quickly, stopping his movements when JJ shook his head firmly. "I can't wear a hoodie?"

  "Nope," JJ stated firmly, shuffling forward to grab the brunette's hand. He tugged him right to the couch, shoving them both into the small den of blankets formed. John B didn't even have time to protest before he was covered in soft material, not that he would anyway. JJ was quick to curl himself into John B's bare torso, feeling all the tension slip from his body at the contact. Skin-to-skin contact was another thing JJ loved, it calmed him effectively and quickly. John B knew this, giving he was one of the only people JJ would allow himself to be that close with. Kiara and John B, that was it. He didn't know why, but stemming from his home life, JJ assumed he saw them almost as parental figures - except he was dating John B. It may not make much sense, but a lot of things about JJ don't make sense.

  "Can we go surfing tomorrow?" JJ asked suddenly.

  John B laughed, lightheartedly, loving everything about the boy in his arms. Giving a quick kiss to JJ's head, he smiled fondly.

  "Of course we can go surfing tomorrow, sunshine."

[flockofteeth]

The Regulatory Standards Bill is the worst & most dangerous proposed by this corrupt government and submissions on it close Monday 12th Jan at 11.59pm

That is TOMORROW so please please please submit because they are sneaking it through using the other bills as distractions!

This bill if it passed would rewrite how laws are made in Aotearoa, forcing our laws to comply with Act's extreme libertarian values: prioritising business profit over human wellbeing, environmental protection & the treaty of waitangi. It has been described as one of the most regressive & dangerous bills ever considered, and as a " legal straight jacket" for government. I've also seen it described as trying to make Aotearoa into America and honestly they're not wrong.

From the above guide:

Here is an overview of some of the key principles and some of their potential consequences:

* Selected aspects of the rule of law, including equality before the law - which may sound good but in practice can mean protecting existing unequal interests e.g. the property rights of the “haves” get protected, while actions to increase fairness and equality for the “have nots” are restricted e.g. affirmative action for marginalised groups or vulnerable natural places or resources we all value

* Limitations on administrative discretion i.e. government decision making - this would kneecap future governments from making decisions for the good of all.

* Focus on extreme individualistic rights and property rights. These rights could only be limited by legislation if necessary to protect another person’s (or corporation’s) individual or property rights. Usually the government balances a range of rights and interests, including individual rights, property rights, human rights, societal wellbeing, the environment, and te Tiriti. Governments would no longer be freely able to balance a wide range of rights and interests.

*Restrictions on taxes, fees and levies which would significantly reduce the ability of government to fund the public services and infrastructure we rely on.

*Limitations on executive decision making (i.e. ministers and departments) and the right of review or appeal on executive decisions that affect certain rights, liberties and obligations.

*Massive deregulation across the board through application of the narrow definition of regulatory stewardship.

*A strong clause on the taking or impairing of property, including the requirement for fair compensation. This is similar to Free Trade Agreements which New Zealand has decided are too extreme to sign up to as they would create huge liabilities. Under this principle any limitations on the unhindered rights to use property (including, for example, land for development, intellectual property, mining licenses etc.) would mean that the government could be sued for compensation for lost future income and profits.  

For example, if new rules restricted mining in sensitive areas due to environmental concerns or prohibited tobacco advertising to protect public health, affected companies could claim their property rights or commercial interests were "taken"or “impaired” and demand compensation. Such payouts could amount to billions of dollars, taking away money from essential services like healthcare and education to pay for corporate losses.  

Here are some additional articles:

Act Now On The Proposed Regulatory Standards Bill from the folks who wrote the above submission guide

The Bill For Individualism, Corporations And Neoliberalism from Climate Justice Taranaki

ACT's proposed legislation threatens all the protections in place for a healthy population and environment from Jack Santa Barbara

( @queer-disability-aotearoa your help to boost would be wonderful!)

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Washington State's capital gains tax proves we can have nice things

Today (June 3) at 1:30PM, I’m in Edinburgh for the Cymera Festival on a panel with Nina Allen and Ian McDonald.

Monday (June 5) at 7:15PM, I’m in London at the British Library with my novel Red Team Blues, hosted by Baroness Martha Lane Fox.

Washington State enacted a 7% capital gains tax levied on annual profits in excess of $250,000, and made a fortune, $600m more than projected in the first year, despite a 25% drop in the stock market and blistering interest rate hikes:

https://www.theurbanist.org/2023/06/01/lessons-from-washington-states-new-capital-gains-tax/

Capital gains taxes are levied on “passive income” — money you get for owning stuff. The capital gains rate is much lower than the income tax rate — the rate you pay for doing stuff. This is naked class warfare: it punishes the people who make things and do things, and rewards the people who own the means of production.

The thing is, a factory or a store can still operate if the owner goes missing — but without workers, it shuts down immediately. Everything you depend on — the clothes on your back, the food in your fridge, the car you drive and the coffee you drink — exists because someone did something to produce it. Those producers are punished by our tax system, while the people who derive a “passive income” from their labor are given preferential treatment.

The Washington State tax is levied exclusively on annual gains in excess of a quarter million dollars — meaning this tax affects an infinitesimal minority of Washingtonians, who are vastly better off than the people whose work they profit from. Most working Americans own little or no stock, and the vast majority of those who do own that stock in a retirement fund that is sheltered from these taxes.

(Sidebar here to say that market-based pensions are a scam, a way to force workers to gamble in a rigged casino for the chance to enjoy a dignified retirement; the defined benefits pension, combined with adequate Social Security, is the only way to ensure secure retirement for all of us)

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/25/derechos-humanos/#are-there-no-poorhouses

Washington’s tax was anticipated to bring in $248m. Instead, it’s projected to bring in $849m in the first year. Those funds will go to public school operations and construction and infrastructure spending:

https://www.seattletimes.com/seattle-news/politics/was-new-capital-gains-tax-brings-in-849-million-so-far-much-more-than-expected/

That is to say, the money will go to ensuring that Washingtonians are educated and will have the amenities they need to turn that education into productive work.

Washington State is noteworthy for not having any state personal or corporate income tax, making it a haven for low-tax brain-worm victims who would rather have a dead gopher running their states than pay an extra nickel in taxes. But places that don’t have taxes can’t fund services, which leads to grotesque, rapid deterioration.

Washington State plutes moved because they relished living in well-kept, cosmopolitan places with efficient transportation, an educated workforce, good restaurants and culture — none of which they would have to pay for. They forgot Karl Marx’s famous saying: “There’s no such thing as a free lunch.”

The idea that Washington could make up for the shortfalls that come from taxing its wealthiest residents by levying regressive sales taxes and other measures is mathematically illiterate wishful thinking. When the one percent owns nearly everything, you can tax the shit out of the other 99% and still not make up the shortfall.

Meanwhile: homelessness, crumbling roads, and crisis after crisis. Political deterioration. Cute shopping neighborhoods turn into dollar store hellscapes because no one can afford to shop for nice things because all their income is going to plug the gaps in health, education, transport and other services that the low-tax state can’t afford.

Washington State’s soak-the-rich tax is ironic, given the propensity of California’s plutes to threaten to leave for Washington if California finally passes its own extreme wealth tax.

There’s a reason all these wealthy people want to live in California, Washington, New York and other states where there’s broad public support for taxing the American aristocracy: states with rock-bottom taxes are failed states. All but two of America’s “red states” are dependent on transfers from the federal government to stay in operation. The two exceptions are Texas, whose “free market” grid is one nanometer away from total collapse, and Florida, which is about to slip beneath the rising seas it denies.

Rich people claim they’d be happy to live in low-tax states, and even tout the benefits of a desperate workforce that will turn up to serve drinks at their country clubs even as a pandemic kills them at record rates. But when the chips are down, they don’t want to depend on a private generator to keep the lights on. They don’t want to have to repeatedly replace their luxury cars’ suspension after it’s wrecked by gaping potholes. They don’t want to have to charter a jet to fly their kids out of state to get an abortion.

This is true globally, too. As Thomas Piketty pointed out in Capital in the 21st Century, if the EU and OECD created a wealth tax, the rich could withdraw to Dubai, the Caymans and Rwanda, but they’d eventually get sick of shopping for the same luxury goods in the same malls guarded by the same mercenaries and want to go somewhere, you know, fun:

https://memex.craphound.com/2014/06/24/thomas-pikettys-capital-in-the-21st-century/

We’re told that Americans would never stand for taxing the ultra-rich because they see themselves as “temporarily embarrassed millionaires.” It’s just not true: soak-the-rich policies are wildly popular:

https://balanceourtaxcode.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/02/WA-State-Wealth-Tax-Poll-Results-3.pdf

The Washington tax windfall is fascinating in part because it reveals just how rich the ultra-rich actually are. Warren Buffett says that “when the tide goes out, you learn who’s been swimming naked.” But Washington’s new tax is a tide that reveals who’s been swimming with a gold bar stuck up their ass.

It’s not surprising, then, that Washingtonians are so happy to tax their one percenters. After all, this is the state that gave us modern robber barons like Bill Gates and Jeff Bezos. And then there’s clowns like Steve Ballmer, star of Propublica’s IRS Files, the man whose creative accounting let him claim $700m in paper losses on his basketball team, allowing him to pay a mere 12% tax on $656m in income, while the workers who made his fortune on the court paid 30–40% on their earnings.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/07/08/tuyul-apps/#economic-substance-doctrine Ballmer’s also a master of “tax loss harvesting,” who has created paper losses of over $100m, letting him evade $138m in federal taxes:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/24/tax-loss-harvesting/#mego

These guys aren’t rich because they work harder than the rest of us. They’re rich because they profit from our work — and then, to add insult to injury, pay little or no taxes on those profits.

Washington’s lowest income earners pay six times the rate of tax as the state’s richest people. When the wealthy squeal that these taxes are class warfare, they’re right — it is class war, and they started it.

Catch me on tour with Red Team Blues in Edinburgh, London, and Berlin!

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/03/when-the-tide-goes-out/#passive-income

[Image ID: The Washington State flag; the circular device featuring George Washington has been altered so that it is now the head of a naked man clothed in a barrel with two wide leather shoulder straps.]

[nightlyrequiem]

Latrodectus

III. Crime of Passion

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

AO3

Latrodectus Mactans, otherwise known as the Black Widow, are known for their uncouth treatment of their partners. The 'widow' part of their name stemming from the common occurrence of the female devouring her partner after mating.

Tags/Warnings: Abduction, Violence, Emotional Manipulation, harassment, A Dabble of Psychological Torture, Drugging, Breaking And Entering, Fem!reader

================================================

Valeria never learned to share. When she was a child, a girl on the playground tried to take one of the dolls she was playing with. It ended with the little girl missing clumps of hair and Valeria being dragged away by her parents. Her territorial behavior shifted from toys to people. Marie and Elle were lapses in judgement. Valeria remained untethered by obsession during her remaining years of high school. At eighteen she had the brilliant idea to join the local military. Valeria knew she could climb the ranks. She was swift, strong, and cunning. Much to her anger and disappointment, she did not receive the recognition she rightfully earned. She shared her frustration with a woman from her unit. Julietta was strong and blunt. Unafraid to say what she was thinking and unafraid to stand up to the few sexist men on the squad.

Julietta had traits that Valeria admired. Her fierce personality drew Valeria in, and for once her interest was reciprocated. The two had a lengthy affair. Heated moments in closets where all Valeria was ever allowed, and it was never enough. She was so close to getting what she wanted. Valeria orbited Julietta, baring her teeth at any and all perceived competition. Julietta wasn't looking for anything serious. Not with Valeria anyway. Valeria's behavior along with Julietta's own inability to stick with one partner for too long caused her to start pulling away. Valeria could feel the shift immediately and it sent her over the edge.

While still working for the Mexican Special Forces, she saw opportunity with the local cartel. Big enough to bring the right person power and money, but still small enough that one could swoop in and build it up. What she was unable to do in the army, she did with ease in the cartel. Her violent nature and ruthlessness were rewarded. She became one of La Araña's favourite enforcers. During a raid on the aforementioned kingpin's son, Valeria saw an opportunity to further her own career. She, along with a few of her fellow soldiers, were tasked by La Araña to escort him and his son to safety. Forming an alliance with the other two soldiers, Valeria executed both of them. She created a power vacuum and what better person to fill it then her? There was only one more issue to solve. Julietta was one of the other two soldiers with Valeria and in the lonely desert, Valeria shot her in the back of the head and left her for the vultures.

She's tempted to give you the same fate as she carefully bandages her arm. Valeria's back rests against the cool, light blue ceramic of her bathtub. She washed, disinfected, stitched, and bandaged her own wound. It wasn't anything too terrible, she's had worse. Her brows are furrowed with anger as she tightens the bandage. She can't believe you did this. She went out of her way to do something nice for you, and you return the favour by stabbing her. She leans back against the tub and stares blankly at the counter across from her. Stockholm syndrome can take years to set in, and you aren't showing any progress at all. In fact, you're regressing.

Valeria rubs a tired hand across her face. She needs to be more patient. She reminds herself of this fact. The temptation to just go back downstairs and end you is strong, but she knows you're just acting out. She stands up from the tiled floor and begins collecting her medical supplies. She places them back underneath the sink and exits the bathroom. Pain rhythmically throbs down her arm, but she pays it no mind. She needs a drink. Walking into the kitchen she doesn't hesitate to snatch a bottle of vodka from the freezer. She needs something to water down the hatred currently blooming inside of her like the world's most ugly flower.

Control is one of the most important things to Valeria. She despises not having it and that's why the military didn't work out for her. Valeria is not any mere cog in a machine, she is the engineer. She would regularly commit insubordination. Doing what she thought was best even if her commanding officer didn't agree. On a mission in Europe, before she even joined the cartel, her squad had been tasked with rescuing a group of soldiers taken hostage. Valeria had been the one to find them, but the soldiers had been brainwashed. They were weak-willed and succumbed to the wiles of the enemy and turned on their team. Her orders were to subdue them and wait for backup to bring them to safety, but such weakness shouldn't have been allowed. She executed each and every one of them. She was under investigation for murder and insubordination but ultimately got away with it.

She takes a healthy swig straight from the bottle. She isn't able to control everything though. Not your attitude nor your actions. Her pink-painted nails tap along the table with her growing agitation. Dark eyes flit around the lonely kitchen. It's well stocked and maintained, she can picture herself cooking meals with you. Dancing along to music while you two make memories. If only you'd stop being so stubborn. She clenches her fist. If you want to be difficult and ungrateful then Valeria will have to act accordingly. See how aggressive you are after being isolated and weakened from hunger.

In the meantime, Valeria has important matters to attend to. Leading a successful cartel is hardly glamorous. When you come around Valeria will make sure to keep you separate from that part of her life. She takes a few more sips just for good measure before putting the half empty bottle back into the freezer.

                   *                    *                  *

She can hear you screaming. You are the loudest you've ever been. Your voice, although barely audible, manages to seep up through the floorboards. She wonders if screaming that loudly for too long can permanently damage your vocal cords. Valeria wouldn't mind if you lost the ability to speak, there's something appealing about you losing your prominent source of communication. You'd have to rely on her for a new way. For a second, she has the urge to go down there and tear out your vocal cords herself. She doesn't though, you'd never forgive her for doing that to you.

Valeria sits right outside your door silently. Listening to you sob so hard you retch. It's been five days since she's decided to impose complete isolation on you, and you aren't taking it well at all. Granted, you're also probably very hungry and thirsty. All she left you to drink was the paint water. Something thuds against the wall. Then another thing, and another. Judging by the weight of what's being thrown Valeria guesses you're chucking the tubes of acrylic at the walls.

The stab wound doesn't take that long to heal. By the second week it's already beginning to scab. She unwraps the gauze and throws it away, deciding it's no longer needed. She walks back out of the bathroom and lingers by the basement door. Everything is silent. You've been silent for three days now. Two weeks on your own should be enough time to rethink your outlook on this situation. She walks into the kitchen and prepares you something small. She can't feed you too much right away, or she could cause fatal chemical imbalances within your body. Refeeding syndrome is one awful way to go.

She makes you a sandwich, cuts it in half, and brings you a bottled water. Outside your door she hesitates. Wondering what she's going to see when she opens the door. She grabs the key from the doorframe and unlocks it, looking inside. You're lying in bed silently, back turned to the door. The blankets on top of you slowly rise and fall with your breathing. Valeria slowly approaches you and kneels beside the mattress.

"Querida." She murmurs softly. She reaches a hand out and lays in on your shoulder. "I brought you something to eat."

You don't stir, so Valeria shakes you gently.

"Look at me." She says. She grips your shoulder and rolls you onto your back. Propped up against the wall on its side is her painting of you. It's unfinished. She tried her best to capture your features, but you stabbed her before she got the chance to perfect them. She's surprised to see it in your bed. Your hollow gaze meets hers and she almost feels bad for doing this to you. Almost.

"... What did you bring?" You rasp. Your voice sounds awful, but Valeria is more focused on the fact that you're interested in what she brought.

"A sandwich, and some water." She sets the paper plate and water on the bed. You slowly sit up and look at them.

You grab the plate and bring it closer to yourself. For once you don't glare at her or ignore the food. You pick up the sandwich and swiftly devour it then grab the water and down it greedily. Some of it spills down your chin and the soaks the front of your shirt. You pull the empty bottle away from your lips and set it down. You stare at your lap with furrowed brows.

"I'm sorry." You mutter. "For stabbing you." Valeria wasn't expecting an apology but her heart leaps. She places a hand on the back of your head and gently caresses it.

"It's alright." She replies, as if your actions didn't make her contemplate killing you.

You sound sincere though. She thinks leaving you alone might've actually worked. She's still going to keep you chained down here for a little while longer, just as a precaution. You lay down. Covers pulled to your chin. Valeria takes this as her cue to leave, but when she goes to stand your hand shoots out and latches onto her wrist.

"Please don't go." You say. It was only two weeks but to someone with no windows or clock, it must've seemed like longer. Valeria lowers herself back down. Resting her back against the wall beside you while you drift off, hand still wrapped around her wrist.

[thelunarsystemwrites]

Lunar's mental health. An update.

TW: bad mental health, EDs, depression, s/h, personal stuff, suicidal thoughts, anxiety, vent, self hate, heavy topics.

Sorry I haven't been posting!!

An update on me.

...Hi, you might know me as Lunar, or, TheLunarSystemWrites! I'm just an artist on here, trying to do things I like.... right?

Well, unfortunately, real life doesn't really... care. It doesn't care if I have friends to talk to, art to make, things I like to do.

I've been exhausted, physically and mentally. I've been busy working a lot in our home. (Painting, building, packing, inside work, cooking, etc) and it's always stressful... we're starting to get a little tight on money.

I've spent majority of my time in my bed. I don't wanna face my family members, so I've hidden away. It's hard to get up every day, and try to find the will to take care of myself.

I also recently relapsed with Bulimia, a disorder that, essentially means I throw up whatever I eat. I've been purging since September 16th, 2022. But I had awhile where I only purged once a day or none, but I'm back at it with full force. So my body doesn't have any energy left. I've also now lost my periods do to it.

I don't sleep well. It's much easier to stay up all night than waste my only free time sleeping. So I have no energy from sleeping well unless I sleep a whole day away, which makes me groggy.

Self harm is also something bothering me too, I'm too tired to do it and yet I keep doing it. Wasting precious spoons on it, I literally can't be clean for a whole year this year, that dream is dead. But, I am a few days clean as I type!

Suicidal and intrusive thoughts have been.... pesky. But I can't just leave my friends, plus I have prizes to make.

But, I'm unmotivated. I can't seem to write or draw anything. All my art is looking... regressed, to me. Everything is repetitive.

I've hated myself now more than ever in my life, I'm in a pretty bad place and I hate how self aware I am.

SPEAKING of regression! I have like, regression block. My brain isn't working with me, isn't regressing unless Involuntary. So my main coping mechanism is.... out of order.

I've been angry at the world, really pissy and moody. Tired, hungry, sad, then happy but not much. Numbness is a huge factor, I'm feeling depressed.

Not to mention, there's drama everywhere I look. This creator gets bullied, that one turns out to be disgusting. People get doxxed over opinions... it's constantly anxiety that I'll be wrongly accused, ridiculed, or abandoned. It's terrifying that people will go at each other's throats. It's exhausting to deal with it and be dragged into drama with problematic people.

Every day has been the same for me for the past 3 years. I'm tired, bored, understimulation controls me.

My friends are my lifeline right now.

I feel uncomfortable in my own body all the time, unsatisfied with my art, everything is essentially falling apart in my life.

Depression, anxiety... not a good mix to wake up disoriented and anxious, then gave zero spoons throughout the day. I'm not in a good home situation right now.

So... I kinda just... haven't been posting, role-playing, answering DMs, answering asks, etc...

I'm burnt out.

I feel like I'm a walking corpse.

Useless even.

I don't feel like myself anymore, I barely have the energy to talk to friends, every little bad things sets me back. I just can't bring myself to really engage much anymore.

So... sorry. I'm sorry, if I wasted your time. Or if this isn't like what you wanted to hear. I'm just not okay anymore, April was the last good month I had this year. APRIL.

I just wanted to update you all, there's a lot of other stuff I didn't share because it's nit important. I swear I'll get to the prizes eventually, I just ain't up to it right now. Might not be for awhile, apologies in advance!!

Hope you guys can understand, I might or might not be back to doing art, who knows. But I'll definitely get things done before that if I ever stopped. It just doesn't bring me joy, I used to hope I'd make an AU people cares about, and I've barely achieved that ^^"

Hope you're all well!! Stay safe, take care!! Remember to hydrate and to try eating if you can, you're spectacular!!!

Daily clicks!! ^^

Previous pinned post.

[asher-agere]

Request for Little!Kyouka and caregiver!dazai or kunikida? I think they’re neat

I love this idea! Kunikida and Dazai are such polar opposites… So of course I’ll make them work together!

Little Kyouka + Caregivers Dazai and Kunikida

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · ˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

₊ ⊹ I think that Dazai and Kunikida would have totally different caregiving approaches. Dazai is very much a firm supporter of “It’s to help get relax, so just let her have fun!” While Kunikida has the mindset of “This is a normal part of her life so it should be structured just as anything else would be” Kyouka doesn’t really mind either way. She likes both of her caregivers! Little baby is just happy to be taken care of!

✧₊⁺ Kyouka regresses pretty young, but she’s pretty self sufficient from someone who regresses to 3 at the oldest! Of course she loves to be held and get affection. But for her it’s not a necessity, not constantly at least. She’s content to just sit down on the floor with some crayons and paper! She has notebooks filled with her drawings! A lot of the drawings are bunnies hehe. They’re so soft and cute!

₊ ⊹ Kyouka likes collecting stuffed animals, she especially likes it when Dazai wins her one from a claw machine! Kunikida doesn’t much appreciate needing to fund Dazai’s millions of attempts, but the precious smile from Kyouka always makes it worth it. Kyouka has at times denied Kunikida’s money, not wanting to force him. But most of the time she just sort of lets Dazai work his magic

✧₊⁺ Anytime they see a claw machine in public Dazai will not-so-subtly check the prizes inside of it. If he sees anything remotely bunny related he’ll gasp loudly and point it out to Kyouka. At first Dazai tries with his own money! Just enough to get Kyouka hooked, she’ll hide behind Kunikida’s arm, subtly watching Dazai fail miserably. But then when he inevitably runs out of money it’s either Kunikida’s money or they go home empty handed… Kunikida of course gives in looking at Kyouka’s hopeful face!

₊ ⊹ Kyouka is the kind of baby that likes some nice traditional milk! Juice is nice sure, it’s not like she gets hyper or anything. But milk is just so soothing. Strawberry milk is really good too! She doesn’t like chocolate milk much though, she always hears Kunikida muttering about how it’s too much sugar. She doesn’t need the extra sugar if she’s perfectly happy with her normal milk. But she does like the occasional treat of Dazai slipping her some chocolate milk!

✧₊⁺ Kyouka loves her sweet treats! Crepes of course, but that can get messy. She usually only gets crepes when Dazai is taking care of her (She doesn’t know who’s money they’re using but she knows it isn’t Dazai’s). Most of the time she prefers bite size finger food! Mochi is a lovely example! Nice fruity and sweet, but much less messy and smaller quantities means less sugar! Kunikida monitors of course, making sure she doesn’t eat too much

₊ ⊹ Dazai is the fun caregiver! Sometimes he’s a bit overwhelming for Kyouka, she’s just a baby after all (,,>﹏<,,) But Dazai is still really fun! He’s the one who sneaks her special treats and encourages her to do whatever her little heart desires! Dazai will use pet names like “Bunny” “Darling” and “Princess” He’s so silly! But Dazai can calm down and be serious when he needs to! They were both in the mafia after all, he understands what she’s been through better than anyone else can

✧₊⁺ Kunikida is a much calmer presence! But he’s also stricter. He’ll encourage things like nap time, restrict sweets, but Kyouka’s isn’t one to get upset! She knows Kunikida is just taking care of her, and she appreciates it! I think Kunikida would use pet names like “Little One” “Baby” or “Hun” classics for the most part! Typical Kunikida fashion of doing everything by the book. And the pet names just make Kyouka feel so unbelievably small and happy!

₊ ⊹ Despite their disagreements Kyouka’s caregivers work seamlessly together! Dazai will hold and watch her most of the time while Kunikida works, then whenever Kunikida isn’t working he’ll happily take over! Dazai is put on bottle and general clean up duty while Kyouka and Kunikida snuggle up! (They look adorable snuggled up on a couch, just like a dad coming home from a tiring day of work to get to hold his baby)

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · ˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

I love these three! I love Kyouka taking the time to rely on her friends at the agency and I love Kunikida and Dazai needing to work together to take care of her! Have a wonderful day/night everyone!