#i've been here since some of these kids were in diapers and god i feel ancient sometimes 🤣🤣

[hotasfahrenheit]

when i look at the for you tab, my dash keeps being like "oh hey 😊 we saw you're a kpop fan 😍 here's a post you might like!!! 🌟 this person wants new friends!!! 💖💖 that could be you 😘😘" and almost every time i'm like "oh okay let's see what they say-" and it's someone being like "OH HEY HI I'M A KPOP FAN LOOKING FOR MOOTS AND I'VE BEEN INTO KPOP FOR EIGHT YEARS AND I LIKE XYZ GROUPS-" and i'm like "oh okay cool yeah i like all those groups sure-" and then they're like "AND I'M 16 YEARS OLD!!!!!" and i feel the dry dust in my bones as my joints audibly creak as i fall out of my chair, slain by the fact i could easily be that person's mother and i do not follow them and move on with my day

[fool-counter]

September first, 1989, dear diary...

I believe I'm a good person

You know, I think there's good in everyone, but here we are first day of senior year

I look around at these kids I've known all my life and

I ask myself: What happened?

(Freak! Slut! Burnout! Bug-Eyes! Poser! Lard Ass!)

We were so tiny, happy and shiny, playing tag and getting chased

(Freak! Slut! Loser! Sh—s!)

Singing and clapping

Laughing and napping

Baking cookies, eating paste

(Bull-d—! Stuck-up! Hunchback!)

Then we got bigger

That was the trigger

Like the Huns invading Rome

Sorry!

Welcome to my school

This ain't no high school

This is the Thunderdome

Hold your breath

And count the days

We're graduating soon

(White trash!)

College will be paradise

If I'm not dead by June!

But I know, I know, life can be beautiful

I pray, I pray for a better way

If we changed back then

We could change again

We can be beautiful

Ow!

Just not today

Hey, are you okay?

Get away, nerd

(Freak! Slut! Cr—le! Homo! Homo! Homo!)

Things will get better

Soon as my letter

Comes from Yale, or Duke, or Brown

Awake from this coma

Take my diploma

Then I can blow this town

Dream of ivy-covered walls

And smoky French cafes

(Watch it!)

Fight the urge to strike a match and send this dump ablaze!

Ooops

Ram Sweeney, third year as linebacker

And eighth year of smacking lunch trays and being a huge dick!

What did you say to me skank?

Aaah, nothing!

But I know, I know, I know

Life can be beautiful

I pray, I pray

For a better way

We were kind before

We can be kind once more

We can be beautiful

Ah! Hey Martha

Hey

Martha Dumpstock

My best friend since diapers

Are we on for movie night?

Yeah, you're on Jiffy Pop detail

I rented The Princess Bride

Hohoho, again? Wait, don't you have it memorized right now?

What can I say? I'm a sucker for a happy ending

Martha Dumptruck! Wide load!

Kurt Kelly, quarterback, will receive a full scholarship from the University of "dude let's get wasted and light our farts on fire" he is the smartest guy on the football team

Which is kind of like being the tallest dwarf

Hey! Pick that up right now!

I'm sorry, are you actually talking to me?

Yes, I am, I wanna know what gives you the right to pick on my friend?

You're a high school has-been waiting to happen, a future gas station attendant

You got a zit right there

Dear Diary

(Why~)

Why do they hate me?

Why don't I fight back?

Why do I act like such a creep?

(Why~)

Why won't he date me?

Why did I hit him?

Why do I cry myself to sleep?

(Why~!)

Students

Somebody hug me!

Somebody fix me!

Somebody save me!

Send me a sign, God!

Give me some hope here!

Something to live for!

Ah! Heather, Heather, and Heather!

And then there's the Heathers, they float above it all

I love Heather, Heather, and Heather

Heather McNamara, head cheerleader, her dad is loaded, he sells engagement rings

I hate Heather, Heather, and Heather!

Heather Duke, runs the yearbook, no discernible personality,

But her mom did pay for implants

I want Heather, Heather, and Heather!

And Heather Chandler, the almighty

She is a mythic bitch

They are solid Teflon

Never bothered, never harassed

I would give anything to be like that

I'd like to be their boyfriend

That would be beautiful!

If I sat at their table, guys would notice me

So beautiful!

I'd like them to be nicer

That would be beautiful!

I'd like to kidnap a Heather and photograph her naked in an abandoned warehouse

And leave her tied up for the rats!

....That's not so beautiful!

Grow up, Heather, bulimia is so '87

Maybe you should see a doctor, Heather

Yeah, Heather, maybe I should

Ah, Heather and Heather and Heather

Perhaps you didn't hear the bell over all the vomiting

You're late for class

Heather wasn't feeling well, we're helping her

Not without a hall pass you're not. Week's detention

Actually, Miss Fleming, all four of us are out on a hall pass

Yearbook committee

I see you're all listed

Hurry up and get where you're going

This is an excellent forgery

Who are you?

Veronica Sawyer

I crave a boon

What boon?

Hm, let me sit at your table at lunch

Just once

No talking necessary

If people think you guys tolerate me, they'll leave me alone

Before you answer, I also do report cards, permission slips and absence notes

How about prescriptions?

Shut up, Heather

Yeah! Did you have a brain tumor for breakfast, Heather?

Sorry, Heather

For a greasy little nobody, you do have good bone structure

And a symmetrical face

If I took a meat cleaver down the center of your skull I'd have matching halves

That's very important

Of course, you could stand to lose a few pounds

And you know, you know, you know?

This could be beautiful

Mascara, maybe some lip gloss

And we're on our way

Get this girl some blush

And Heather, I need your brush

Let's make her beautiful

Let's make her beautiful

Let's make her beautiful

Make her beautiful

Okay?

Okay!

Out of my way geek!

I don't want trouble

You're gonna die at 3PM!

Don't you dare touch me! Get away, pervert!

What'd I ever do to them?

Who could survive this?

I can't escape this!

I think I'm dying!

Who's that with Heather?

Whoa. Heather, Heather, Heather

And someone!

Heather, Heather, Heather

And a babe!

Heather, Heather, Heather

Veronica?!

Veronica, Veronica, Veronica

And you know

You know, you know

Life can be beautiful

You hope, you dream, you pray

And you get your way!

Ask me how it feels

Wearin' these rad ass heels!

My God, it's beautiful!

I might be beautiful

And when you're beautiful

It's a beautiful frickin' day!

Heather! Heather! Heather! Veronica!

Heather! Heather! Heather! Veronica! Veronica! Veronica! Veronica!

September first, 1989, dear diary...

I believe I'm a good person

You know, I think there's good in everyone, but here we are first day of senior year

I look around at these kids I've known all my life and

I ask myself: What happened?

(Freak! Slut! Burnout! Bug-Eyes! Poser! Lard Ass!)

We were so tiny, happy and shiny, playing tag and getting chased

(Freak! Slut! Loser! Sh—s!)

Singing and clapping

Laughing and napping

Baking cookies, eating paste

(Bull-d—! Stuck-up! Hunchback!)

Then we got bigger

That was the trigger

Like the Huns invading Rome

Sorry!

Welcome to my school

This ain't no high school

This is the Thunderdome

Hold your breath

And count the days

We're graduating soon

(White trash!)

College will be paradise

If I'm not dead by June!

But I know, I know, life can be beautiful

I pray, I pray for a better way

If we changed back then

We could change again

We can be beautiful

Ow!

Just not today

Hey, are you okay?

Get away, nerd

(Freak! Slut! Cr—le! Homo! Homo! Homo!)

Things will get better

Soon as my letter

Comes from Yale, or Duke, or Brown

Awake from this coma

Take my diploma

Then I can blow this town

Dream of ivy-covered walls

And smoky French cafes

(Watch it!)

Fight the urge to strike a match and send this dump ablaze!

Ooops

Ram Sweeney, third year as linebacker

And eighth year of smacking lunch trays and being a huge dick!

What did you say to me skank?

Aaah, nothing!

But I know, I know, I know

Life can be beautiful

I pray, I pray

For a better way

We were kind before

We can be kind once more

We can be beautiful

Ah! Hey Martha

Hey

Martha Dumpstock

My best friend since diapers

Are we on for movie night?

Yeah, you're on Jiffy Pop detail

I rented The Princess Bride

Hohoho, again? Wait, don't you have it memorized right now?

What can I say? I'm a sucker for a happy ending

Martha Dumptruck! Wide load!

Kurt Kelly, quarterback, will receive a full scholarship from the University of "dude let's get wasted and light our farts on fire" he is the smartest guy on the football team

Which is kind of like being the tallest dwarf

Hey! Pick that up right now!

I'm sorry, are you actually talking to me?

Yes, I am, I wanna know what gives you the right to pick on my friend?

You're a high school has-been waiting to happen, a future gas station attendant

You got a zit right there

Dear Diary

(Why~)

Why do they hate me?

Why don't I fight back?

Why do I act like such a creep?

(Why~)

Why won't he date me?

Why did I hit him?

Why do I cry myself to sleep?

(Why~!)

Students

Somebody hug me!

Somebody fix me!

Somebody save me!

Send me a sign, God!

Give me some hope here!

Something to live for!

Ah! Heather, Heather, and Heather!

And then there's the Heathers, they float above it all

I love Heather, Heather, and Heather

Heather McNamara, head cheerleader, her dad is loaded, he sells engagement rings

I hate Heather, Heather, and Heather!

Heather Duke, runs the yearbook, no discernible personality,

But her mom did pay for implants

I want Heather, Heather, and Heather!

And Heather Chandler, the almighty

She is a mythic bitch

They are solid Teflon

Never bothered, never harassed

I would give anything to be like that

I'd like to be their boyfriend

That would be beautiful!

If I sat at their table, guys would notice me

So beautiful!

I'd like them to be nicer

That would be beautiful!

I'd like to kidnap a Heather and photograph her naked in an abandoned warehouse

And leave her tied up for the rats!

....That's not so beautiful!

Grow up, Heather, bulimia is so '87

Maybe you should see a doctor, Heather

Yeah, Heather, maybe I should

Ah, Heather and Heather and Heather

Perhaps you didn't hear the bell over all the vomiting

You're late for class

Heather wasn't feeling well, we're helping her

Not without a hall pass you're not. Week's detention

Actually, Miss Fleming, all four of us are out on a hall pass

Yearbook committee

I see you're all listed

Hurry up and get where you're going

This is an excellent forgery

Who are you?

Veronica Sawyer

I crave a boon

What boon?

Hm, let me sit at your table at lunch

Just once

No talking necessary

If people think you guys tolerate me, they'll leave me alone

Before you answer, I also do report cards, permission slips and absence notes

How about prescriptions?

Shut up, Heather

Yeah! Did you have a brain tumor for breakfast, Heather?

Sorry, Heather

For a greasy little nobody, you do have good bone structure

And a symmetrical face

If I took a meat cleaver down the center of your skull I'd have matching halves

That's very important

Of course, you could stand to lose a few pounds

And you know, you know, you know?

This could be beautiful

Mascara, maybe some lip gloss

And we're on our way

Get this girl some blush

And Heather, I need your brush

Let's make her beautiful

Let's make her beautiful

Let's make her beautiful

Make her beautiful

Okay?

Okay!

Out of my way geek!

I don't want trouble

You're gonna die at 3PM!

Don't you dare touch me! Get away, pervert!

What'd I ever do to them?

Who could survive this?

I can't escape this!

I think I'm dying!

Who's that with Heather?

Whoa. Heather, Heather, Heather

And someone!

Heather, Heather, Heather

And a babe!

Heather, Heather, Heather

Veronica?!

Veronica, Veronica, Veronica

And you know

You know, you know

Life can be beautiful

You hope, you dream, you pray

And you get your way!

Ask me how it feels

Wearin' these rad ass heels!

My God, it's beautiful!

I might be beautiful

And when you're beautiful

It's a beautiful frickin' day!

Heather! Heather! Heather! Veronica!

Heather! Heather! Heather! Veronica! Veronica! Veronica! Veronica!

fool count: 36

beautiful... beautifool... it all starts to blend together after a while...

[iovetecchou]

have u ever thought of hunting dogs best boys as fathers? I've been on a baby fever ever since i gave it a thought ☹️

oh my god… okay here we go…

tecchou:

- he would absolutely want kids with you. at least two

- tecchou is definitely the one to get up in the middle of the night when your newborn baby starts crying for dear life. every, single, time. he wants you to be able to get as much rest as you can!

- would push the stroller for you, carry the bucket, the diaper bag, everything. he wouldn’t let you lift a single finger.

- he would enjoy coloring with your child, finger painting and crafts are a must!

- you’re always cleaning up after your two babies… one of those babies being your husband, tecchou, of course.

- they would both come up to you, showing off their beautiful, messy, sparkly creations with their fingers completely covered in paint and glitter glue

- you know that iconic picture of Chris Hemsworth holding up his son by just his leg, letting the kid straight up dangle head first?? yeah tecchou would do that

- he would run around with your kids constantly, playing hide and seek, tag you name it.

- if your child was into after school activities you can bet your ass he’ll be there. at every event, every parent meeting, everything.

- would probably sign up to be your child’s coach too if they participated in sports!

- let’s say you had a daughter… your child would definitely be a daddy’s girl

- would go to every father daughter dance, have tea parties with stuffed animals, let her put bows in his hair, and paint his nails. he would even let your child put makeup on him too if they were feeling artistic!

- and he wouldn’t mind one bit. i think tecchou would love the attention from your little girl!

jouno:

- oh boy. now this is a whole different situation.

- jouno would be very hesitant about having children

- he would however enjoy the act of conceiving though (;

- a crying baby would not be good for him at all, not to mention all the bodily fluids… yeah it would take a ton of convincing

- but, if he really, and i mean really, loves you then he would want to start a family with you after a good long while

- jouno would talk a big game about how he wouldnt get overly emotional when your child finally arrived in this world. claiming that it wasn’t “that big of a deal” and he would just be “happy to get it over with”

- but the second he holds his child in his arms? oh he’s in love all over again, only this time with your baby!

- definitely shed a tear but he denies that ever happening.

- i actually think jouno would be a gentle parent.

- he would explain things in great detail to your kid, if they made a mistake or did something they shouldn’t have done he would have a surprising amount of patience for them.

- jouno would pull them into his lap and let them know that what they did was bad, and how they should react / ask for help the next time it happens. all while doing his best to put it into small words for your child to understand

- the sight alone would melt your heart, who knew he would be such a softie with your child in this way?

- oh he would spoil them rotten with desserts and treats! little cakes in the shape of a heart, cat shaped cookies, bunny apples, you name it.

- he enjoys hearing the pure joy erupt from your child, the small pitter patter of their heart as they happily enjoy his creations!

i literally whipped this up in ten minutes, so i do apologize if there are some errors in punctuation and whatnot!!

[imrainfully]

(Beautiful -Heathers)

September 1st, 1989

Dear Diary: I believe I'm a good person

You know, I think there's good in everyone, but here we are first day of senior year

I look around at these kids I've known all my life and

I ask myself: What happened?

(Freak! Slut! Burnout! Bug-Eyes! Poser! Lard Ass!)

We were so tiny, happy and shiny, playing tag and getting chased

(Freak! Slut! Loser! Shortbus!)

Singing and clapping

Laughing and napping

Baking cookies, eating paste

(Bull-dyke! Stuck-up! Hunchback!)

Then we got bigger

That was the trigger

Like the Huns invading Rome

Sorry!

Welcome to my school

This ain't no high school

This is the Thunderdome

Hold your breath

And count the days

We're graduating soon

(White trash!)

College will be paradise

If I'm not dead by June!

But I know, I know, life can be beautiful

I pray, I pray for a better way

If we changed back then

We could change again

We can be beautiful

Ow!

Just not today

Hey, are you okay?

Get away, nerd

(Freak! Slut! Cripple! Homo! Homo! Homo!)

Things will get better

Soon as my letter

Comes from Harvard, Duke, or Brown

Awake from this coma

Take my diploma

Then I can blow this town

Dream of ivy-covered walls

And smoky French cafes

(Watch it!)

Fight the urge to strike a match and send this dump ablaze!

Ooops

Ram Sweeney, third year as linebacker

And eighth year of smacking lunch trays and being a huge dick!

What did you say to me skank?

Aaah, nothing!

But I know, I know, I know

Life can be beautiful

I pray, I pray

For a better way

We were kind before

We can be kind once more

We can be beautiful

Ah! Hey Martha

Hey

Martha Dumpstock

My best friend since diapers

Are we on for movie night?

Yeah, you're on Jiffy Pop detail

I rented The Princess Bride

Hohoho, again? Wait, don't you have it memorized right now?

What can I say? I'm a sucker for a happy ending

Martha Dumptruck! Wide load!

Kurt Kelly, quarterback, he is the smartest guy on the football team

Which is kind of like being the tallest dwarf

Hey! Pick that up right now!

I'm sorry, are you actually talking to me?

Yes, I am, I wanna know what gives you the right to pick on my friend?

You're a high school has-been waiting to happen, a future gas station attendant

You got a zit right there

Dear Diary

(Why~)

Why do they hate me?

Why don't I fight back?

Why do I act like such a creep?

(Why~)

Why won't he date me?

Why did I hit him?

Why do I cry myself to sleep?

(Why~!)

Students

Somebody hug me!

Somebody fix me!

Somebody save me!

Send me a sign, God!

Give me some hope here!

Something to live for!

Ah! Heather, Heather, and Heather!

And then there's the Heathers, they float above it all

I love Heather, Heather, and Heather

Heather McNamara, head cheerleader, her dad is loaded, he sells engagement rings

I hate Heather, Heather, and Heather!

Heather Duke, runs the yearbook, no discernible personality

But her mom did pay for implants

I want Heather, Heather, and Heather!

And Heather Chandler, the almighty

She is a mythic bitch

They are solid Teflon

Never bothered, never harassed

I would give anything to be like that

I'd like to be their boyfriend

That would be beautiful

If I sat at their table, guys would notice me

So beautiful

I'd like them to be nicer

That would be beautiful

I'd like to kidnap a Heather and photograph her naked in an abandoned warehouse

And leave her tied up for the rats!

Grow up, Heather, bulimia is so '87

Maybe you should see a doctor, Heather

Yeah, Heather, maybe I should

Ah, Heather and Heather and Heather

Perhaps you didn't hear the bell over all the vomiting

You're late for class

Heather wasn't feeling well, we're helping her

Not without a hall pass you're not. Week's detention

Actually, Miss Fleming, all four of us are out on a hall pass

Yearbook committee

I see you're all listed

Hurry up and get where you're going

This is an excellent forgery

Who are you?

Veronica Sawyer

I crave a boon

What boon?

Hm, let me sit at your table at lunch

Just once

No talking necessary

If people think you guys tolerate me, they'll leave me alone

Before you answer, I also do report cards, permission slips and absence notes

How about prescriptions?

Shut up, Heather

Sorry, Heather

For a greasy little nobody, you do have good bone structure

And a symmetrical face

If I took a meat cleaver down the center of your skull I'd have matching halves

That's very important

Of course, you could stand to lose a few pounds

And you know, you know, you know?

This could be beautiful

Mascara, maybe some lip gloss

And we're on our way

Get this girl some blush

And Heather, I need your brush

Let's make her beautiful

Let's make her beautiful

Let's make her beautiful

Make her beautiful

Okay?

Okay!

Out of my way geek!

I don't want trouble

You're gonna die at 3PM!

Don't you dare touch me! Get away, pervert!

What'd I ever do to them?

Who could survive this?

I can't escape this!

I think I'm dying!

Who's that with Heather?

Whoa. Heather, Heather, Heather

And someone!

Heather, Heather, Heather

And a babe!

Heather, Heather, Heather

Veronica?!

Veronica, Veronica, Veronica

And you know

You know, you know

Life can be beautiful

You hope, you dream, you pray

And you get your way!

Ask me how it feels

Looking like hell on wheels

My God, it's beautiful!

I might be beautiful

And when you're beautiful

It's a beautiful frickin' day!

Heather! Heather! Heather! Veronica!

Heather! Heather! Heather! Veronica! Veronica! Veronica! Veronica!

[heresathreebee]

Kinktober day 16 MASSAGE

Rick Flag X Reader smut

Tags: 18+ | 1.9k words | pregnancy, you and Rick are parents, sleep deprived, postpartum symptoms, male masturbation, voyeurism, lots of moaning, lube, I dont know what I'm doing but

AN: Listen I wrote this as a Kaia Castle fic basically. Unedited, no thoughts, only your boyfriend masturbating to the thought of you. 

Pregnancy is a fucking bitch. Especially the second time around. See for some people the first kid is the hardest and it's all sunshine and rainbows after. 

But not for you, despite having your baby's daddy with you this time. 

Rick is a godsend and frankly it's scary how nice it feels to have him so involved in this life changing event with you. You know in his heart he wishes he could have been there for your First, but you know deep down the Rick Flag from six years ago wouldn't have been ready for this. 

During your pregnancy, morning sickness was rampant well into your third trimester, you had to take most of your food as smoothies to keep them down, and you were often bedridden with some physical ailment like swollen ankles or impossibly tight back and neck pain. 

Rick's massages helped you stop missing work on those days. He had no problem doing it for hours, just working out every kink and knot from your head to your toes, talking to you about everything, and making you feel better. 

When you finally had your baby, they did stop for a very good reason. Rick was enraptured by his son– always asking to hold him, happy to change every diaper, and holding his little hand while you breastfed. You joked that your daughter was going to smother this baby in his crib out of jealousy and immediately, Rick made time for her too. 

And here you thought you couldn't fall in love with him even more. 

It's been 6 weeks since your son was born. Rick hated calling him Jonesy at first but the way you and Violet took to saying it, he eventually fell in love with it too. It's hard to let him sleep in his crib when his skin is so soft but you both manage (most nights anyways). It's not unusual for you to wake up and find Rick bent over the crib staring at your little angel but you had insisted on putting the baby in his own room some nights to give you more sleep. 

Tonight Jonesy's in his sister's room (she insisted). Rick's got the baby monitor video on the nightstand and has to keep telling Violet to go to bed. You chuckle and wrap your arms around his shoulders to make him lay back down. 

"She's just excited, baby," you say with a tired slur, "as long as she don't pick him up, they'll be fine." 

Everyone falls asleep, but a few hours later Rick's head is on your chest and he accidentally wakes you with a sneeze. "Sorry…" 

You groan and rub your eyes. "It's more sleep I've gotten in a long time." 

You trail off and wonder why you feel tight… you try to turn your head and pain explodes down your back. Rick lifts his head when you hiss and he sits up on his elbows. 

"What's wrong?" 

You gasp and press a hand to your neck. God, it's like your whole nervous system is screaming at you. You're suddenly desperate to move and push Rick to get off of you. 

Rick calls your name, "what's wrong?!" 

"My neck…" well it's everything actually but it's like it's starting at your neck and fucking everything up around you. "I don't know why it all just hurts…" 

"What can I do?" 

It's become his catchphrase: what can I do? How can I help? Rick would pluck the stars out of the sky or blow up the moon if you asked him. 

"Could you massage it, please?" 

You hiss through your teeth as you feel him adjust to sit behind you. His movements jostle the bed but you suck it up because he's not doing it on purpose. When you're situated between his legs, you feel his calloused hands on your shoulders begin to massage in circular motions at the base of your neck. It takes a few minutes for your body to catch up. 

After a few knots are released, you find breathing becomes easier. "Yeah, just like that. Harder, baby." 

Rick obeys and you moan indiscriminately. You are completely unaware of the effect you have on him– the crisis he is currently undergoing. Perhaps it’s just the fact you two haven’t had sex since your son was born– longer since the last two months of your pregnancy were a herculean trial for you. He remembers jerking off the day before you went into labor and feeling guilty for it despite your insistence it was perfectly fine. You had encouraged it seeing as you probably wouldn’t be able to have penetrative sex for a long time. 

This is the closest he’s been able to come to sexual pleasure with you in a hot minute. Rubbing you down with warming oils and kissing your face had stopped, he realized, when the kids needed more attention. He reasons that this is why he’s instantly hard tonight while he’s massaging the kinks out of your neck. 

He can hear and feel you ease into bliss as he continues to undo whatever had flared up and attacked you tonight. He kisses your shoulder just because and is surprised when you stand and throw your shirt to the side. Your breasts never fit your bras anymore– they change sizes wildly thanks to Jonesy’s feeding habits and usually spill out of the top like they do sometimes in his hands. 

“I’m sorry, baby, I know you’re probably tired but could you keep going?” You take off your bra and wipe a little bead of milk from one. “I miss your magic hands.” 

“Don’t need to ask me twice.” Rick let you lay down across the bed and sat himself on your hips. He wonders if you can feel his hard-on (you can) but he moves past it to keep massaging your back. Your cold feet press into his lower back as he works and neither of you say much, you just vibe in this rare moment of intimacy. 

You both get up to feed Jonesy and go back to bed after an hour. Rick's sure you're fast asleep but he can't, not without taking care of something first. You had noticed– had asked him if he needed help--and he immediately declined. 

"You just had a baby, we can't." 

"I mean physically we can, it doesn't hurt anymore but I wasn't talking about that," you replied, "my hand isn't broken and I know how much you love a good dirty talking sess." 

The offer was tempting but his guilt weighed him down. "I'll survive a few more months without it. I'm not an animal." 

"Suit yourself," you had shrugged. 

Fuck. He should have taken you up on your offer, he would probably be sleeping like a rock right now. You're out and the kids are quiet, maybe he should… 

Rick looked at you for a second and reached for his boxers to pull them down. His heart beat picks up as he checks to make sure you're still sleeping and wraps his hand around his shaft. He sighs as quietly as possible but thinks about using lube.  

Did you still have it in… he reached under his head and found it in your pillow case: a 4 oz bottle of cherry flavored lube. He poured a dollop into his palm and the mouth watering scent of cherry filled the room. He didn’t have time to warm it since he didn’t plan to be at it for long, but he was thinking about how cold your hands get in the winter time as he applied the lube to his cock. 

Rick takes a deep breath and lets his mind wander. Of all the changes to your body that pregnancy did, your postpartum belly was unbelievably soft. You always seem to slap his hand away when he squishes it, so he waits until you're distracted to feel you up. 

“Fuck,” he whispers in the dark. 

Your breasts changed too. Nipples darker, they were fatter than they were before, and the leaking… Rick squeezes the base of his cock when he thinks about the time your breastmilk leaked through your shirt during the 3 days the hospital decided to keep Jonesy overnight to watch him for rashes. Three days of you complaining about your breasts hurting, asking if they looked swollen (they did), and then there was the morning where you were late to work because you ruined your blouse because you were trying to wear a normal bra. 

Rick groans. He has no idea he’s making noises, barely even registered that slick sound of his hand fucking his cock. You can hear it, though. It took you a second to realize exactly what you were hearing, especially when he said your name. 

You smile to yourself, happy he was treating himself. Does he know he's squeezing your ass? Or is he just that focused? 

A particularly lascivious moan makes you squeeze your thighs together. 

Rick almost yells when you suddenly roll over. From his ears to his chest he turns beet red thinking he's been caught, but you simply sling your arm and leg around him, cuddling close before falling still again. 

He says your name– he does not want to wake you up but if you are awake he needs to know. You don't respond except to wriggle a little until he wraps his free arm around you. The room fills with silence once more and he sighs in relief assuming you've fallen back to sleep. 

He looks down to find your leg hooked around his and your thigh inches from his erection. There is about 2.5 seconds where he thinks about taking your hand and use it to fuck himself before he shakes it out of his head and goes back to doing it himself. 

The fingers of his other hand massage your hip. It doesn't take him long to get back to the excitement he felt before you scared him, what with your octopus cuddle body keeping him warmer than he was before. 

Unbeknownst to Rick, you're very awake. Like, not even bothering to keep your eyes closed. He can't see since your head is right under his chin and he can't look down but you have a very good view of the show thanks to a fortunately placed mirror on your vanity. 

Rick's hand halfway down your pants. Rick throwing his head back and exposing the bobbing of his Adam's apple. Rick's shiny cock appearing and disappearing beneath his working hand. 

You can hear he's close to cumming by the way he speeds up, gripping his dick and your hip hard to him, moaning breathlessly and somewhat uncontrollably. He grunts at the first rope that covers his bare chest and his heart stops when he realizes your heads up, eyes on him. 

You're smiling mischievously and wrap your hand around his dick just as a third rope paints his happy trail and getting some of his cum on your hand. Rick's entire body is shaking as he realizes he's been caught. 

Before he can recover from his orgasm or possibly die of embarrassment, the baby wakes up and crying can be heard on the monitor. 

"I got it, baby," You pat his messy stomach and stand up chuckling evilly. “Oh! One more thing…” 

You lick some of the cum off of his stomach and walk away. Rick’s going to get payback– someway, somehow, he’s going to, he promises himself.

[eretzyisrael]

Lama Al-Manar, 36, doesn't remember what she put into the small bag she was carrying when she stepped into a Red Crescent ambulance, other than medical documents. She doesn't remember the last words her husband, who was riding with her, said to her before they separated at the Erez crossing. She doesn't know whether he followed them with his gaze when she walked toward the crossing and passed from the Gaza Strip to Israel, where a Magen David Adom ambulance was waiting for her.

From the moment she left Shifa Hospital that afternoon, until she arrived at Sheba Medical Center at Tel Hashomer some five hours later, Lima's eyes never left the incubator that was holding her son, Abdullah, 2.5 months old, whose tiny body was receiving oxygen.

She also wouldn't have remembered what day it was if they hadn't explained how lucky she had been. It was Monday, May 10, 2021, the day on which Operation Guardian of the Walls against Hamas infrastructure in Gaza began. The ambulance that brought her and her son to Israel was the last allowed through Erez crossing before it was closed for 13 days.

Three children are waiting for her at home. Two years ago, she gave birth to a stillborn child, and when she became pregnant for the fifth time, she was eager for the new baby to bring joy back to the home. But Abdullah was born two months prematurely with a complicated heart defect and Lamaand her husband realized they would need to fight for his life.

"I was afraid. His condition wasn't good," Lama says. "He lost weight, and his breathing and other parameters slowed. I prayed to God to heal him. To fight for his little life. A doctor at Shifa Hospital recommended that we send him to Israel for treatment. My husband reached out to the Shevet Achim organization to help us get him there."

Thursday afternoon, the 11th day of the Gaza campaign. The radio reports a rocket alert in Ashkelon, and then a direct hit on a residential building. We arrive at the parking structure attached to the labor ward at Sheba Medical Center, which is next to the Edmond and Lily Safra Children's Hospital. The children's ICU was transferred here on the fifth day of the fighting for fear of rocket hits.

We go down one floor. After walking through the gray halls lined with oxygen tanks at the ready, we encounter a colorful sign decorated with a drawing of a sun and a kite: "Protected Children's ICU." Reality stays outside. In the parking structure, which was filled with cars the previous week, there are 40 small beds. Each one takes up two parking places, and holds a small baby who is hooked up to medical equipment. Nearby is a treatment station, a computer, and a lounge chair for adults.

The beds are separated by flowered curtains that were hung on the metal pipes that line the parking garage's ceiling. No one closes the curtains. There are also hanging screens that are attached to monitors that fill the space with dim beeping.

In the center of the improvised unit are a dialysis cart and another cart that holds equipment for chest drainage. Sometimes, a baby's cry can be heard. It is weak, and starts and stops quickly.

Over bed No. 26 a sign reads: "Abdullah Al-Manar. Date of birth: Feb. 26, 2021. Weight: 1.6 kg (3.52 pounds)." Lamasits on the chair and watches Shani, the nurse, take off Abdullah's cloth diaper, exposing a large incision that runs from his chest to his belly. Shani changes the dressing, rubs cream on it, puts his medicine into the IV bag attached to his small arm, and covers him gently.

In the next bed lies three-month-old Rana, who is recovering from her third open heart surgery, which she underwent two days earlier. On the left is Yazen, a month old, who had a catheterization.

Dr. Evyatar Hubara, 43, a senior doctor on the unit, moves from bed to bed. He slept three hours the night before due to the number of cases.

"The three children from Gaza suffer from complicated heart defects," Hubara explains. "They came to us in serious condition, among other reasons because it took time from when the problem was diagnosed in Gaza until their transfer to us could be coordinated, all the permits received, and that's without changing ambulances at Erez and the bumpy journey. Right now, all three are in an acute stage. We still haven't gotten to the rehabilitation state, which will begin here and continue in Gaza," he says.

Hubara stops by Abdullah's bed and looks at him warmly. "Abdullah was born prematurely and was incorrectly diagnosed in Gaza. The doctors … performed the wrong operation on him when he was two months old. A week after the operation, he began to decline, and a week after that he reached us. In the first few hours we needed to stabilize him and keep his blood pressure steady with medication.

"We started to look into the problem. We did an MRI and other tests. Before every stage, we explained to his mother what we were going to do. She trusted us from the beginning. After we stabilized him, we found that the true defect he was suffering from was an aortic valve stenosis. It turned out that in Gaza they had tried to close the ductus, but closed one of the main arteries by mistake.

"In the insane Israeli reality, we had to protect ourselves against rockets from Gaza along with the babies who come from here," he says.

"I remember one siren that caught me on the unit, before we moved to the parking structure. All the mothers, Jewish and Arab, just grabbed their babies – the ones that weren't hooked up to machines – and ran to a safe space. I shouted, 'We have time, 90 seconds, go slowly so you won't fall with the kids.' Everyone gathered around in the safe space. Staff members and patients, Jews and Arabs together. The shocking sight of the mothers who ran there with their babies doesn't leave me," Hubara recalls. Not all the mothers were able to take their babies to a safe space. Abdullah, Rana, and Yazen, as well as another 12 Israeli babies, are on respiratory equipment, and they were unprotected during the first rocket alerts. This is why the hospital administration decided to move the entire department from the sixth floor to the underground parking garage. Here, the sirens can't even be heard.

We go with Lama, Raida, and Samira into the staff room, located at the exit. The room has a big refrigerator full of popsicles donated to the children and the staff who care for them. Every few minutes, a parent or a staff member comes in and takes one.

About a year ago, when the COVID pandemic was still raging in Israel, a COVID unit opened in this same parking structure to ease the mass of patients that was overwhelming the hospitals. That event seems like ancient history, and the only thing that remains of it are the letters of thanks stuck to the door. It seems as if this is the last place in the country where people are careful to wear masks, and wear them properly.

The three Gaza women are embarrassed. They aren't used to being interviewed. All three are wearing abayas, long dresses that include head coverings, as well as hijabs and surgical masks. Since they arrived in Israel, they have been sleeping here, on the unit, in the recliner chairs next to their children's beds. They are also given meals. Once every few days, they allow themselves to go upstairs and shower. None of them speaks any language other than Arabic, with the exception of a few words of Hebrew or English. Moshe Ravid, 26, a nursing student from Jaffa and a volunteer with the Shevet Achim organization, translates.

Raida (Umm Ahmad), 48, is from Khan Younis. She is Rana's grandmother, a housewife and mother of six.

"My daughter-in-law, Rana's mother, came to Israel with her in February, two weeks after she was born," she says. "After two weeks, she was tired and not feeling well. Because she has a four-year-old at home, she called me and asked me to switch with her. She went back to Gaza, and since then, I've been here. Three months already. This is my first time in Israel."

Q: Were you afraid?

"No, why should I be afraid? My husband worked in Bat Yam for 20 years. Every day, he went from Gaza to Bat Yam, until the disengagement in 2005. After that, he found work in Gaza. He told me that there are good people in Israel, that everyone here is all right."

Abdullah's mother Lama, 36, is wearing a brown abaya accessorized with a shining silver star. Her smartphone has a pink cover. She works in a laboratory, and her husband is a producer for Palestinian television in Gaza. She has two other sons, 11 and six, at home, as well as a three-and-a-half-year-old daughter.

"My mother had cancer. She went to Israel to be treated, and recovered," Lama says. "She told me that everything is good here. When Abdullah's condition got worse, the doctor recommended that we come to Israel. My husband reached out to Shevet Achim. Now he and my mother are watching the three other kids at home."

Q: What do you tell your families about what is happening here?

Lama: "They're afraid for us, and we're afraid for them. When they call to hear how we are, I answer, 'Al Hamdullah,' so they won't be scared and worry, and when I call to ask how they are, they say the same thing. We talk about the boy, how he ate, how much he ate, how much he slept. "I tell them that the doctors here are good, that they treat us well, answer all our questions. I tell them that the food is excellent, that the women have nice clothes, about their hairstyles. I like the fashion in Israel, and the grilled chicken breast and salad they serve at the hospital."

Raida: "The medical staff thinks only about the children – whether their condition has improved, what they ate, how they slept. We sit next to their beds, don't know how they'll be from one moment to the next, whether they'll get better at all."

Q: Do they send you pictures of the strikes on Gaza?

"They send me pictures of the special Ramadan sweets," Raida answers, with a smile.

Samira, 62, is the grandmother of Yazen, who is only a month old. "I have nine grown children, and my son has four children other than Yazen. Their mother needs to take care of them, so they asked me to accompany the child. At home, when we talk about Israel, we only talk about the medical treatment we want to get here."

Moshe, the translator, tells them in Arabic not to be frightened, that they can speak freely. They all answer at once: "We aren't afraid, we're speaking honestly. Everyone wants peace. We want it to be all right."

Samira: "Inshallah, things will calm down. We aren't dealing with politics."

Q: What did you do when people in Gaza fired rockets toward this area?

Raida: "What everyone else did. The nurses took us to a safe place. The babies stayed on the unit, hooked up to respirators. I was worried about them, that they were alone, but everyone calmed us down, said that it would all be fine."

Lama: "We tried to talk to the other people in the safe area, without understanding one another. Everyone wants to know how the other's child is doing. He's sorry about my son, and I'm sorry about his."

Q: Did your families leave their homes because of the airstrikes?

Raida: "No. Everyone is in his own home."

Q: Are any of your family members involved in the fighting?

All three shake their heads, no. "Not everyone in Gaza enlists in the army," Raida says. "My husband worked in Israel. Half of Gaza used to work in Israel. You must have seen the workers who would come from Gaza."

Samira: "My father and my husband used to work in Israel."

Q: When are you going home?

Raida's eyes fill with tears. "Rana's chest is still open from the last surgery. I'm sitting with you and laughing, but my heart is crying. So I'm telling you that my every thought is for the baby. That's our situation."

Lama: "Today, Dr. Evytar said that Abdullah has an infection in his right lung, which was good. Until now he had one in his left lung. I hope it works out. I'll go back to Gaza when he gets better, but I don't know when."

Hospital Director Dr. Itai Pessach says that every year, the center treats about 500 children from Gaza and another 2,700 children from the Palestinian Authority. "They range in age from a week to 18. Some of the children arrive through the Shevet Achim organization, and others through our own coordinator."

"During the last military operation, our doctor colleagues in Gaza reached out to us about children in serious condition, and we fought to bring them to Israel during the operation. Unfortunately, we didn't succeed, and that's very sad. I'm happy we're getting back to normal," Pessach says.

According to Pessach, "we don't see any difference between a child who comes from Gaza, Nablus, or Tiberias. Our treatment looks at all the child's needs, including emotional needs and school work at the school that operates on the hospital grounds. A year ago, a nine-year-old boy with cancer arrived from Gaza who didn't know how to read and write. He returned to Gaza last month, after a year-long hospitalization, healthy and knowing how to read and write in Hebrew, Arabic, and even English."

Q: How did the patients respond to this during the Gaza fighting?

"A family from Gaza arrived two days before the operation started, and we diagnosed their son with a rare disease, one that only seven children in Israel have. By chance, two rooms away there was a Haredi family with a child who had been diagnosed with the same disease two months ago. While the rockets were falling, the Haredi mother insisted on meeting the mother from Gaza and teaching her everything she knew about the disease and how to treat it."

"There is a truly shared fate here. They feel that they're fighting against something bigger than rockets. To get better, a patient needs to feel secure, and that's what we're doing. A hospital is a home for all the patients.

"I'm happy to say that the external tensions didn't creep into the work. There was no tension between the staff and the patients. The good of the patient always comes before everything else. Even at administration meetings – everyone put aside their own political views and we managed to provide a quality medical response and protect the safety of the staff and patients," Pessach says.

The funding for the Gaza children's treatment comes mainly from donors – mostly American Christians, and some Israelis.

"Saving the life of the child is an entire world," says Jonathan Miles, founder of Shevet Achim. Miles arrive in Israel from the US in the 1990s, as a journalist, and started to volunteer with the group Christian Friends of Israel.

"We welcomed Russian immigrants to Israel. We wanted them to understand that the Jewish people have friends in the world. One day a mother from Ukraine whose child's life was in danger came to me. She had no money for medical treatment, and she begged me to help. I started raising money to help him. Wizo helped a lot, as did other people, both Jews and Christians.

"After that, I heard about sick babies in Gaza, and in 1994 I founded the organization. We bring children from Muslim states to Israel for treatment."

Amar Shami, 32, who coordinates the transfer of children from Gaza to Israel for Shevet Achim, lives in Jerusalem.

"The families who go back to Gaza tell each other about the treatment in Israel," he says. "One mother tells another. When the child has a problem, they reach out to me. Sometimes the doctors reach out directly." Q: What goes through your mind while you're busy providing treatment and rockets are flying outside?

"Inside the hospital, we detach. We only want to help them. When you go out you realize that reality is different. We hope that when the families from Gaza go home, they will sort of be our emissaries, say good things about Israel."

The night that the ceasefire between Israel and Hamas took effect, Rana's heart stopped beating, despite the doctors' best efforts. Her grandmother, Raida, left the hospital weeping. She was driven to a Shevet Achim apartment in Jaffa. When Erez crossing opened, she returned to Gaza with Rana's coffin.

[whimsically-ominously-auspice]

My mom worked in a bar, a bartender, weekend nights as she went to school to be a nurse. My dad just wanted to be a musician. So I grew up in the bar.

That's my mom.

So I met Jesse in the bar. He taught me to play poker. I was extremely skilled at it. So i became a hot shot at age one. I would win bets all kinds. Who would think a kid in diapers could win at poker?

They didn't even know i potty trained myself and didn't piss nor shit in my diaper but panties were too small for me.

So i wore a diaper.

My dad was in the military, too. But someone told him he could go with them to get a music career started.

That is how he got kidnapped.

My mom went to look... Followed the same guy into the parking lot and got kidnapped.

She left me in the bar. The guy said my dad was outside all drunk and bottled up. "Oh I'll be right back"

So I tended bar for the rest of the night. Locked up when everyone left. Slept on the floor.

I looked for my mom but it was cold and the air felt strange. Danger like. Still and eerie. Bad.

So i went in, shut the door and locked it. Yelled "mom i locked it but you can come in" just in case she could hear. May be she was in a car talking to my dad. I yelled for 10 minutes. A couple men went to the door but i refused to open it. Cried myself to sleep in the floor. Scared for my parents.

It was two days before anyone noticed it was weird I was making margaritas and serving beer. One and a half year old tending bar. No one thought it was weird . i was a hot shot.

I told every one I couldn't find my mom. They didnt care. Just another beer.

It wasn't till Monday night that any one noticed and that's only cause that's when the new bartender showed up.

So i helped her that night. She was impressed. When i locked the door from the inside and got myself ready to sleep in the same place i cried myself to sleep in before...

The door opened and light spilled in, "mom?"

But it was the late night bartender, "oh you." She closed the door and locked it. "You can't stay here"

"I can. I been here since Friday. I can lock the door. Im safe. I can be, too"

"There's kidnappers outside"

"Yeah since Friday and they took my mom and I serve them beer and they don't pay. Just walk out. I should beat them up"

She took me to Miss Leena's house the next morning. We both slept in the bar floor. In front of the locked door.

"Miss Leena, i don't know what to do" she said.

Miss Leena kept me in the trailer park. Out of foster care. Let me go wherever whenever.

I never saw my parents again.

I saw George a few times. But he wasn't a man. Some monster. Some sick in the head creep. This thing with legs and arms and a head. No heart.

That's when I learned the difference between a me problem and a you problem. Even when it came to families, there was rarely an Us problem.

He's been eradicated. There was no hope of healing him and i being able to tolerate him if he did heal.

My Uncle wasn't the best father. I'll be curt. But thats because he knew I had a dad out there somewhere. But he was the best father i had. He never hit me or sexually abused me. He defended me. Stood up for me. Took care of me and supported me.

He is a real man.

Point is. One day you'll be almost two years old tending bar alone. Friday, Saturday and Sunday.

And no one will care. They will think it's neat.

And yeah it is. Its fun doing moms job. And doing it well.

But comes the point that you're an orphan. Locked in the bar with kidnappers outside, crying yourself to sleep on the floor, in front of the door. Hoping you may not be. An Orphan.

Wearing the same clothes. Same diaper. And keeping it so clean that by Monday the late late night bartender doesn't realize you've been in them 4 days.

That photo above was taken the night she disappeared. I was in the bathroom. There's one of me with her, the same night.

The last photo we took together. Before I took one next to her coffin. I was two then.

The person sitting on Jupiter killed and raped her. For no reason other than he was outlaw Jesse James. So he named himself. He was rich. His father a store owner down the street. Sold groceries. Got women's names and addresses off checks. The son Jesse did.

Self-entitled Jack ass.

For no reason im an orphan.

If they were in a car wreck or something that would be tragic and dangerous. But murdered so the criminal wouldn't get in trouble for rape. Kidnapped for ransom the military refused to pay.

Doesn't make sense to me.

They never even bothered to look for my father.

I did. But by the time I found him, he was no longer a man.

"Don't forget i raised you"

I was 3. Half my life i raised myself and more than half the life i had with him he was working.

"I don't even know you -- Do you -- are you saying you want to come home?"

"Not yet im working"

"You want to come home and be my dad?"

"No I've told you time and time again I'm working"

What piece of shit says that. I spent nearly 2 years looking for him to take him home. He was too busy mopping floors?

I saw him again 5 years later... Just gassing people. Anyone he could get in a room. Like a Nazi. Kids. Moms. Didn't matter.

So i sorted out the evil ones for about a year so he wasn't killing innocent people. But then he turned on me. And I left.

He was gonna end up killing me. I called the police. Had him arrested.

Spent 2 years in The penitentiary.

I was 9 when he got out. We moved the year before so he couldn't find me.

I killed Pablo Escobar the year after he got out.

He did have ways to find me, though. Steal my kids and freeze them and put them in car panels.

Never made sense why he would. Just crazy I guess.

He used to be a good man.

But after he did that to me. He had to been eradicated.

He couldn't see past his crazy to ser his own daughter. I can see going nuts and being afraid to leave. But then...

Why attack me? Take my kids.

There was no reason

He took my father away from me.

He had no right to take anything else.

I grew up with a photo of him in our house. I don't know if he was crazy then. Evil.

I know I am. Crazy. But there's a difference between caring and not.

Her name was Deborah Anne. I think she was lucky to die.

My dad became a herion addict. Shooting up with needles 19 pints a day of black tar herion. Which pints is a term like nickel. Dime or quartet in marijuana. It means full 5 cc needle one hour a day sleeping 5 hours a day.

5 mL of black tar herion 19 times a day.

That's 95 mL of herion.

3.212 ounces

A cup is 8 ounces so it's nearly a half cup and you know sometimes he did at least 3/4 of a cup.

Not around me... Because.. One time i told him "why don't you just get a bigger needle? I mean syringe? The tube part?"

"Get away from me. You're not smarter than me"

"Yeah well sure but you're doing it every 15 minutes"

And while pints is a term like nickel or dime... My dad really did 19 liquid pints of herion a day.

So when I was around I made him feel dumb, insecure and selfish. So he did less.

"Who is taking care of you?"

"I work. I have a job. I make more money than you"

"I make none. You could make a penny and its more than what I -- hey you think you could buy me herion off the street? I think it's better than what i got. Or maybe not im told it's pure. Never mind you're a kid. No buy me some. I said buy me some. I didn't mean to grab your arm"

"Like a mad man all crazy? Because you did"

"I didn't mean to. I said i didn't mean to!" Injecting his arm again

"Hey fill these up for me again. Do something useful"

"Talking to you ain't useful?"

"Not if you want me to go home it ain't. I'm the boss"

"Give me the syringe. How come if you're the boss you're only bossing me? Where's everyone else?"

"At work they know what to do"

I start laughing. And laughing. "There is no one! I sent them home! All is left is you!!"

"Then I'll start gassing. If they escape i have to gas who is left and they start over"

"You could just go home like they do"

"You mean escape? I'll start gassing"

"There is no one left but you. Come on I'll show you"

"Nope bring them to me. Ill start gassing the place up let them burn. I like that. Like im a Nazi"

"The who? I'm calling the police" i pick up the phone "911" i dial im not playing. He's fucking crazy. "My dad said he will start gassing. Hes all doped up and" my dad stopped shooting up to stare at me "you don't know what you're saying!!!" He stormed the floor and grabbed the phone and hung up

"Don't you call the police on me again. Im just doing my job"

"You're shooting up" i stood to get the phone

He snatched it "I said do not call the police on me again!" He stood over me not like a threat but as a threat

"I'm gonna puke"

"And she did. You know you ain't gotta say every nasty thing you gotta do to me. Now that's gonna stink. Dad let's go home every two goddam minutes." He snatched the trash can from me and i fell. "Oh my God it's the police! How did they get here so fast?!?! You didn't even give them the address. They're going to think I'm herion dealing. And it's just for me!"

"Dad they're the CIA they're here to help!"

"Oh my God i was in the military. They don't care. Now it's the CIA. They don't care"

"Dad i care. Please"

"You're just a kid"

"I work for the CIA"

"No you don't. You're just a lying." He leans down towards me and whispers "why don't they just Come in?" And he shoved me.

He hit me in the side of the head. Covered my mouth with his hand. I shoved him off. He pulled me by my hair.

"QUIT!!!! IM SO SICK OF YOUR SHIT!!!"

He acted like i beat him.

"I'm opening the door stay calm" i opened the door. "Arrest him. I think he broke my teeth"

I held my face and felt sad

"Sabrina, I've seen you be hurt worse than that. Are you sure you're okay?" Asked Matt Hagan's FBI grandpa.

"Its just my dad. It hurts more because emotionally. Im going to cry. I'll just lay my head on This desk and cry awhile"

Of course my dad was out the next week to gas people and kill them. Of course he was.

[themomsandthecity]

10 Cold, Harsh Truths I've Learned Since Becoming a Parent

The following story by Jamie Johnson was originally published on the Hashtag Mom Fail Blog. I'm a mother and a realist, so why not get right to it and tell you about the many ways I have failed at parenting my children? Though, to tell the truth, I now call them "learning experiences" or "character builders." Let's just keep things positive, people! Since becoming a parent, I have learned 10 very crucial things - things people don't tell you when you find out you're pregnant. Some, such as myself, would think of these things more as hacks, while the normal human would think of them as common sense ("mom brain" is real, OK?). Just humor me and read on, and please, for the love of God, tell me I'm not alone here. Related 7 Things Your Kids Will Remember About You When They're Grown Up * Take your toddler's fuzzy socks off before changing a poopy diaper. If you do not, the child in question will somehow stick the fuzzy sock into a large pile of poop, making a bigger, more disgusting mess. That poop will then be transferred to their upper thigh. And having to grab the toddler's leg to remove the poop sock will always end with you getting it on your hands and possibly face. * Always buy footed pajamas that zip, not snap. The snaps are impossible to do when you are attempting to wrestle a wiggly child into them. I compare this to putting pajamas on an octopus. You will most likely always end up with an extra snap when you get to the top – maybe even two. I prefer to sing "Started From the Bottom" by Drake when I get to the top and all snaps have been snapped correctly. * Always carry an extra change of clothes in the diaper bag. Not surprisingly, my son, Simon, had a blowout while we were running errands one day. It was an "I had to throw the clothes away" blowout. Then I realized I did not pack an extra change of clothes. He shopped the rest of the time in his diaper and a bib – the one piece of clothing that did not get poop on it. It was very Kentucky of us. We got a lot of odd looks. I just smiled and acted like nothing out of the ordinary was happening. * Never tell someone your kid's age in months. Supposedly, it makes people very angry and confused. So I am going to start rounding down and tell people my 3-month-old is zero. * Set your child's expectations before you go somewhere. When we were on vacation, my husband and I took our 3-year-old son and 4-year-old niece to the petting zoo. On the way there, my niece, Ava, told me that she couldn't wait to see the giraffes. Oops. * Get a dog. Having a dog when you have kids is like having a living vacuum cleaner. Spilled milk on the kitchen floor? Call for Newman! Cheerios spill in the playroom? Call for Newman! He'll eat anything! * Max out your DVR with cartoons, even the shows your kid doesn't like. Because one day they will decide that Bubble Guppies is their favorite show and they have to watch it or the world will come to an end, and you won't be able to take any more crying. And the DVR will only have 35 episodes of Paw Patrol, 16 episodes of Peppa Pig, 38 episodes of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and four episodes of Blaze. And Bubble Guppies in not on Netflix. Just an FYI. * When you attempt to teach your toddler to share, they will only share the things you don't want them to. Like "sharing" their food by shoving a half-eaten banana in your mouth. Or sharing their pink eye. Or maybe even spitting out their chewed up food into your hand. * Your kid will rule the house. You will say they don't, but then you will find yourself watching Paw Patrol even after they go to bed. You will schedule your day around nap time. They will ask for you to read them 23 bedtime stories, and you will. They will cry and you will come running. You will wake up in the middle of the night even when they are not there and think you hear them crying. You will have dinner standing up in the kitchen so you can eat really fast before they see what you are eating and want some. You will let them take a drink out of your water bottle even though they will leave Goldfish backwash in it. * Parenting is really hard. I know, I say that a lot. But it's so true. You have to keep kids fed, clothed, and healthy. Plus, you have to raise them to be good, respectful, decent human beings that won't live in your basement for the rest of their life. And you have to show them you love them and teach them how to love others. That's a big deal. And not one to be taken lightly. That's it! Do you feel enlightened? I sure wish I had known these things before I had babies. So take this knowledge and pass it on to the rest of the world! http://bit.ly/2iWWE4h