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aladaylessecondblog · 4 months

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the life you knew before (good tav/gortash pt. 4)

Previous chapter here

Banter, and sex (obviously). Enjoy :)

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Tav stood, mind off like a shot. Cazador she had seen several times in the eight months she had been Duchess Gortash, and somehow it had entirely slipped her mind to talk to him about...the situation.

How, how could I forget about CAZADOR?

The same way you forgot about ME, my dear, returned Astarion's voice in her head.

"Lord Szarr," Tav gave a slight curtsy, "A pleasure to see you. I almost didn't recognize you, so rarely do I see you outside your palace."

"And so rarely do any see you outside the city."

"True enough," she replied, "I've had so much to do...but I have had rather a...taxing day. I found time in nature and with...old friends...a better prospect than remaining behind stone walls."

Cazador did not respond to that, but took a step forward and looked down on the gravestone.

"Were you--"

"Who is this Halsin?" he interrupted and gestured at the carving atop the headstone. "Don't tell me Astarion went and wed himself to a bear."

"A druid...he did love to stay in his wildshape much of the time. Were you...familiar with Astarion?"

She hated to pretend it, but she also knew it was a good idea to act as though she did not know what he was. For now.

"Perhaps we might call him a bastard son, for certainly he acted like one. Running off like a slave, cavorting with--animals..."

Is he daring me to say something?

Cazador then turned those eyes on her. "And you say you loved him."

"I--did, yes. Before I met the Archduke, of course." She looked at the gravestone and gave a soft smile. "It was strange how long it took to earn his trust. He was running from something, I think."

"He always was a fearful sort. I assume you were the one to bury him? The one to make this gravestone?"

Tav took a deep breath before she answered. "I was, yes."

"Quite frankly, it surprises me that you would bother."

His voice was so severe; it made her think she'd done something wrong. She resented the feeling, but tried to keep her tone polite.

"Every man deserves a proper grave," she replied evenly. "I did not know him long, but...for that time, he was..."

It had started with wanting him, as she was sure he had intended. Then it had become oh-so-much more, and now...now, she didn't know.

She bowed her head just slightly.

"One might think you are unhappy in your marriage, if you pine so over a dead man," Cazador said then. "I cannot think the Archduke would approve."

"He knows of this...former romance. And he knows--" Tav gulped just slightly before going on, "--he knows, really, that 'tis he who holds my heart now. It is just that every so often...I think of the past, and what might have been."

"A life in the trees amongst the beasts is not fit to be lived." The sternness had a slight edge in it now, "You are lucky to have the Archduke to show you that there is more to life than speaking to those who have nothing to say worth hearing."

"It would have been good enough for me. My poor pale elf could have used a few colorful flowers in his hair."

With that she turned and began to walk away.

(The spawn who had been holding the umbrella over her head seemed to tense; she actually saw his eyes widening into fear when she looked.)

"I wasn't done speaking to you," Cazador said.

"I was done listening." It was out before she could stop it.

"One might think badly of a lady who makes so free with those above her."

"The only man above me is the Archduke, Lord Szarr. Unless you have plans to ascend to a crown."

She turned back briefly.

"One never knows what might happen," Cazador said in a darker tone, "I am surprised, you know, that you have so sharp a tongue. I expected nothing like this from so subservient a woman."

"I am such to my husband and no one else."

It was the last thing she said to him as she walked away. There was a strange thrill and yet a fear with it when she heard Cazador seething.

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

"Someone's been acting up today."

Tav had been standing by the window, staring out at the ships passing on the water for nearly an hour when she felt Gortash's hands on her hips.

"Your lady is only feverish," she said quietly, "An illness she caught tending to the needs of the people..."

"Of course she will require several days of rest to recover. After all, her loyalty is well known...and anything that could make her say such terrible things in earshot of others, well..."

It was easy, so easy, to relax into his touch. To gently cover the hands that slid forward and around the bump of her belly and feel...well, she didn't know what she was feeling. But she couldn't think that it was wrong anymore.

And even that fact was not scary any longer.

"When are you going to grow angry?" Tav asked after a long silence. "Throw something, perhaps...or have me locked away for making you look foolish?"

"Is that what you think of me?" Gortash's voice was softer than she had yet heard it. "I wasn't lying when I told you that you had nothing to fear from me."

Please... She gulped softly and begged silently, as she had been begging for months now. Stop being like this. Like someone I could...

To distract herself Tav looked out the window. The sun was setting in brilliant reds and golds, with a single dark ship passing on the horizon.

"You were a decision I made in haste, and I presume the same could be said from your position. But must you keep yourself in this state of agony? I'm sure you don't wish to be there." There was the lightest of grips at her belly. "And it's certainly not good for the child."

Deep breath.

She thought of Astarion, the first time he was comfortable participating in the lovemaking with Halsin. The first time she had woken up with the two of them. The last smiles she'd seen from either of them.

Then...

Then those thoughts turned to Gortash. The dances she had with him at the wedding, the smiles he gave at balls later on...the way he went about showing his interest. He was for every appearance a perfect gentleman...except in the bedroom, where he did things that made her weak in the knees. Where he left her wanting only to push her to greater heights of desire.

And where of late she slept beside him more often than not.

Tav opened her eyes and saw that the ship on the horizon was gone.

"You have not been what I expected," Tav replied, "Everything since the tadpole has been an endless series of unpleasant surprises. I could scarcely lay down my head without being woken by some problem, some fight...and then...then I lost everything."

Where was this coming from? Why was she saying all this this? She hardly knew. Her emotions were a horrible typhoon centered around the calm that he'd created. She had now been his wife longer than she had ever been with Astarion or Halsin...and there was a space shaped like him forming in her mind.

"I'm afraid to be at rest." she added "Because when all is quiet..."

She waited--waited for some mocking, some cutting remark she was sure was coming. But none did.

Deep breath.

"The nastiness comes out. My poor bride, dealing with so much...and alone. You really needn't do that. After all, how well can you help me handle this city if you are so burdened?"

"I didn't know whether I could trust you then...and now...and now..."

"We should lay down," Gortash said, "Clearly, you're in need of rest."

Tav relaxed and allowed herself to be lead to her bed, and was glad when he joined her. Even more so when she realized he was clad as he had been that first night, with one difference--this time, he wasn't wearing the gauntlet. Just that pair of black trousers...

"Something set this off," he said gently in her ear. "I want to know what set it off."

"I..." she took a deep breath as Gortash reached a hand up to stroke at her face. "I visited the...the grave, and...there's something--someone you should know about. I was...afraid to mention it because he's..."

"Did he harm you?"

"No, but...he could be dangerous to you at some point soon. I forgot all about him with the...the uh...what lead to my marrying you."

She was glad. So very, very glad, that he was really listening to her right now.

"Cazador." Tav said, "He was...Astarion's...sire. A vampire...and one of the most abusive pieces of shit I've ever heard of, if the way Astarion acted was any indication. I had been planning to deal with him--"

"Unsurprising," Gortash replied, "The man was always odd and reclusive, and while I had my suspicions..."

"And I may have upset him by not...paying him what he saw as his due. He's planning some sort of ritual..."

Here she explained what she knew of Cazador and his plans for ascension, and while Gortash quickly began to look more severe, at least he didn't vent any of that potential anger on her.

"I must inform the guards about that. Noble or not, I'll not have him steal what I've worked so hard for." He smirked slightly and pressed a brief kiss to her lips. "And I'll not have YOU risking either your life or my heir's by going after him."

"I've helped imprison Mizora--the former patron of the Grand Duke. I've assisted in the killing of a cambion..."

"Really, now."

"Raphael never stood a chance. Foolish man...and very stupid, too, telling me he had something I wanted, and by extension where to find it WITHOUT taking his deal."

There was something in Gortash's face then that she had never seen before.

Shock.

"I...presume...that you are not talking about th--"

"Raphael of the House of Hope, the one who wanted me to hand over the crown to him so he could become king of the hells or something along those lines."

"And you are...quite certain...that he is dead?"

"Certain as the sunrise," Tav replied. "He'd been a smoothtalking pain in my ass for too long for me NOT to kill him."

A pause...and then, from nowhere--one second, Gortash was laying beside her, looking her in the eye. The next, his lips were on hers and he was moving over her.

"Eager," she got out quickly, and when he let her break for air she added, "Aren't we?"

He didn't answer. There was a pause, and then, in rather an awkward dance she reached down to pull up the hem of her gown as his hands moved down to rid himself of his trousers.

"Off," he demanded, once he was bare before her, as he tugged her gown up and over her head. He yanked off her underclothes and moved atop her, planting another hot kiss on her lips.

Tav returned the kiss, and awkwardly shifted beneath Gortash as she spread her legs for him. And despite the awkward maneuvering due to her swollen belly, they contented themselves like this for several minutes.

He seemed to want to say something at one point--but then apparently thought better of it, and settled for pressing his hard cock against her wet heat and thrusting inwards a moment later. Tav groaned, and reached up, wanting to hold SOMETHING. Her hands ended up on his shoulders.

"Please," she said, meeting his eyes, "I want--"

It was what usually excited him. Her begging, pleading to be fucked, yet somehow this time, she didn't need to say any more. He drew back and pushed forward in rapid thrusts that were pushing her high already from how deep they were hitting.

More, more, MORE

Tav's nails clenched at the skin of his shoulders, and her knees squeezed at his sides as his hips rocked against hers. Gods above, how badly she suddenly wanted to kiss him again!

But there would be none of that, only the repeated invasions of his cock, spearing and spreading her around him as he vented whatever in the hell this was.

"More," she moaned softly, "More..."

She needed him now, wanted to feel him within her, to be reminded of what passion lay behind that dark smirking face of his.

And he was going to give it to her.

Gortash's thrusts grew faster and faster still. He braced himself with one hand and lowered his face, only just far enough away from hers to prevent a kiss. But she could see it now, the expression, the desperate need for her, the agonizing pleasure he felt as the climb begin.

It was like he wanted her to see his ecstasy, to witness what he was drawing from her.

"Harder--"

It sparked suddenly, unexpectedly, and Tav forced herself to keep that eye contact as the pleasure seized and burned through her body in rapid wildfire.

"Oh, gods!"

She moaned for Gortash, let him hear her pleasure, let him see the look in her eyes as she let go. It lifted her high, so high, so achingly keen, and then dropped her back into the warm sea of the afterglow.

Faster, and faster still. She was still sensitive but he was thrusting hard, lust driving him onward with no coherent thought or reason other than fuck. She bore with it, bringing her heels up to dig into his ass and encourage him to go deeper still.

No moment of hesitation appeared, as sometimes it had since first they had been married.

Tav kept his gaze, and it was exhilarating. He was close, so close, and for once she was focused solely on that, on seeing his pleasure, taking it in in every sense of the word.

On an inward thrust, as he sheathed himself entirely inside her, it struck him. His cock pulsed and he went empty inside her in three warm waves of lusty heat that rose threatening to drown him.

Gingerly, Gortash withdrew from her and curled close, as though all the troubles of the world melted away with his head on her chest.

For all his scolding that she needed to relax, Tav realized--as she raised a hand to tangle its fingers in his hair--that this was the first time she had ever seen him do so.

#sorry to everyone in cazador's palace y'all aint gonna have a good night #cazador #gortash #tav #bg3 cazador #gortav #gortash bg3 #gortash x tav #cazador szarr #bg3 gortash #bg3 smut

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zenki-soukokq · 1 year

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I may or may not have forgotten to post anything at all for over a month-

But I found something in my miscellaneous collection of documents that (although unfinished) seems pretty good to post

I guess if it gets enough good reception, I might finish it (?)

Tw(s): Suicide, nothing else (if I missed anything, please tell me)

Length: 1,121 words

Your entrance exam to the agency wasn’t very telling for what was to come in your job. In fact, it was rather lighthearted in comparison to what your everyday life was about to become. You had saved a group of innocent orphans from what would’ve surely been their utter and complete demise, and had thus been offered a position within the Armed Detective Agency, to which you accepted.

Even if such an action would generally be considered taxing, for you at the time it was not. You were filled with an inexplicably high energy for helping people regardless of how treacherous the situation, and it led you to dedicate your life to that. The ADA was exactly where someone like you loved working at.

It became even more of a wonderful place to be after you had properly met all of your coworkers.

Kenji, Atsushi, Kunikida, Yosano, the Tanizaki siblings, Fukuzawa, Ranpo, Kyouka, and every other person at the agency always gave the workplace a refreshing kind of uniqueness. Each day, even if most only consisted of bland paperwork, became interesting solely because of the people you were surrounded with.

There was one person who stood out amongst all of them, though. Dazai Osamu, the resident suicide-fanatic of the agency. His enamoration with the idea of killing himself didn’t interest you as much as it did partially mortify you. You just couldn’t grasp how someone could be so accepting towards the concept of being their own cause of death, let alone someone so enthusiastic about it, to the point where you had almost feared him for it.

Of course, Dazai couldn’t resist prying into your personal pseudo-fear for him. Contrary to your mortification towards his accepting stance towards death, he was interested in your contrasting ideas towards his perspective. He wanted to know what kind of ideas you had that caused you to harbor such a strong distaste for his own, and he wanted to possibly coax you into becoming more comfortable with him, if that was even possible.

You weren’t very willing to cooperate with him at all, but you eventually were forced to when you were assigned a mission with him not long after you joined. It was a rather quick and easy mission, which led to there being a bit of downtime before the two of you had to return to the agency- not that being punctual particularly mattered to him. Through some sort of a miracle, he had convinced you to spend the rest of the allotted time with him in Cafe Uzumaki.

Your initial caution was worn off within the first few minutes, due to his somewhat pre-calculated charisma. He wanted you to let your guard down, after all. Your time at the cafe was highly enjoyable, as he had only put his focus on making you feel comfortable with him.

Perhaps, though, it would’ve been for the better if you had just declined and went back to the office.

__________

One event led to the next, as you and Dazai eventually developed a rather deep and complex relationship. Due to his overall goal being for you to understand him as much as he wanted to understand you, your relationship had taken a turn into a place where it was much more of an intellectual relationship. So much of it revolved around your different and similar opinions, ideas, ideologies, and other various intellectual facets. It was inevitable that your relationship would end up turning out the way it did.

You couldn’t really describe what you felt for him as love, because it felt like you understood each other too much for it to be something as unpredictable, uncertain, and illogical as that. It was just that love was the only reasonable way to explain what you two had developed, so you simply settled for that.

Even his confession had been deprived of love. He didn’t want you to love him nearly as much as he wanted you to understand him. Dazai would’ve rather had you agree to a double suicide with him instead of genuinely loving him.

—

It was quite late at the agency now, you didn’t even have to look at a clock to know that. The beams of sunset that had been trickling in through the windows had become sparser and sparser, now only being slight slivers that would occasionally peek through the blinds. Nobody else was around anymore, except for two people.

You and Dazai were the only ones left, as both of you had quite the urgent report to finish. It’s not as if the two of you spent your time properly, though. Dazai had distracted you with a rather striking question, which had further led to you getting sidetracked, and having not worked on anything for the past hour.

“So, if I were to genuinely ask you to commit a double suicide with me, how do you think you would react?” The bandaged man often asked these kinds of questions to you throughout the days, but never before with this kind of seriousness. His expression was nothing but serious, and even his body language seemed deprived of his usual comedic mask.

“I think I would decline. It’s hard to answer these kinds of questions with an actually accurate answer, but I think I wouldn’t accept,” you responded to this question with a far-away look in your eyes, as if your mind was somewhere else entirely.

“Hm…but what reason do you have to decline? Work has been tough, missions have been tough, life has just overall been shitty for you, no?”

“Hardship isn’t all it would take,” you were met with a momentary silence, “After all, hardship is something so common in life. If I were to try and die at every instance of recognizable hardship in my life, I would’ve died barely an infant.”

“Then, what would it take?”

He looked at you for an answer, with a frightening desperation visible in his eyes. You hesitated quite a bit before responding.

“...I suppose that it would take some sort of a momentous push to the idea of suicide. Whether that be a devastating event- or set of events- an indescribable storm of misery, a lover-”

“A lover?” Dazai quickly interrupted you, not even letting you take a breath after your words. “If a lover could make you consider suicide, then tell me, just how exactly could they get you to consider suicide?”

“I…I’m not particularly sure- it just feels as if a lover who wants to die would make me want to die with them.”

“If that’s the case, then I’ll be that lover. I want you to truly understand what it feels like to so deeply desire to kill yourself.”

Afterword:

I probably messed up Dazai's characterization in this, but I just kinda want to push something out into this blog, so it'll have to do for now

#bsd #bsd dazai #dazai x reader #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #i can't think of any more tags #it's 12:36 am #i should be asleep #zenki's writing

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radio-free-beth-sarim · 8 months

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I'm currently sitting on the boardwalk in Ocean City, MD. My family has always taken vacations here, and coming here as an adult is basically just me doing all the things I used to do as a kid, but also the things I wanted to because I couldn't... I was a kid. For a long time I just couldn't afford a vacation. I was bound to my job at the cost of my health. And that led to me getting sick when I just wasn't taking care of myself. Being as sick as I was, I wasn't sure I would ever come back here. There was no guarantee I'd recover, and a good possibility I would be dead by now. So I see being here as a triumph on several fronts. I can now afford to take a vacation, and I am now healthy enough to make it here.

Often I would entertain the idea that I was actually dead, watching the world from the afterlife as it just moved on past me. I came back to a world just similar enough to be familiar but different enough to feel like I'm out of place. I felt like a space alien when I tried to swipe my debit card at the supermarket the first time and they told me to tap. And I was just like "that works?"

I told the cashier I was "gone for a while" and they gave me a strange look. I can only imagine they thought I was just out of prison. I tell people now that "I spent five years dead for tax purposes" and that usually gets either a laugh, or a stranger look than the implication I was in prison. A win for me either way.

But returning to places after the passage of such time is bittersweet no matter the circumstances, and being on the Ocean City boardwalk is a good feeling but one that carries a twinge of sadness.

Arcades have always been my happy place. From the Dundalk skateland that had a Darkstalkers machine and an MVS cabinet to Aladdin's Castle where I spent so much money playing DDR, I always felt so at home and comfortable in those spaces. So being back at the boardwalk for the first time in so long, I had to go to the arcades here. I walked along the boardwalk, and man, it's different but in all of the important ways nothing changed. The weird t-shirts. The Thrashers fries. They're selling deep fried oreos now which I am sure is delicious, but the things that would do to my intestinal tract make me cringe in horror.

I stopped at just about every arcade on the way. All of them left me disappointed that they weren't like what I remember. It's all ticket games, coin pushers, or claw machine variants. If they're actual video games they're reworked versions of old school games like frogger or space invaders, or mobile games. I don't mean to sound all boomer about this, like these kids just don't know, that's not what I am complaining about. I saw a lot of kids having a ton of fun, and it was so good to see. The laughter and joy was a delight, and being in such a place is a wonderful experience. Somewhere among those kids is someone building those core happy memories that will make them love the place like I did. Arcades are an important space where, as the great Charles Entertainment Cheese once said, a kid can be a kid. And going to an arcade makes me feel like a kid again.

But being there was also a stark reminder that I am no longer young. The arcades I remember are out of fashion. Those games are niche now. They don't make it to America often, let alone the Ocean City boardwalk. I made it to Sportland, one of the arcades I went to most frequently. I saw more of the same coin pushers and ticket machines. The place changed. Of course it had. Everything changes. But I mourned those days. In a way I was mourning my youth. I found a single neglected Tekken 3 machine and made my Person play me in a first to five. They 5-0'd me. That's how bad I am at Tekken, I got 5-0'd by someone that doesn't play fighting games. But it was fun, and they were a good sport. I also let a kid beat me in Mario Kart, so that was cool. The kid had to be like 10-12. He was happy, and that made me feel good. I won my Person a weird sonic plush, too. I had a good time! A great time! But as I walked out of Sportland with that bittersweet feeling in my chest, I looked over at Marty's Playland, THE arcade I used to spend most of my time at, and I couldn't bring myself to go in. I need it to be just the same as I remember, even though I know it isn't. I need there to be a place unchanged by time, exactly as I remember it, even if it exists only in my mind. And I know that's not reality anymore.

Maybe this is what W.B. Yeats meant when he wrote "There is no country for old men."

But I saw a kid in an Electric Wizard shirt so there is definitely hope for the future somewhere.

#arcade nostalgia #getting old #i am old as fuck now #ocean city #sadboy rambling

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cardcaptorsakura96 · 2 months

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Taxes, Taxes, Taxes-Chapter 24

Fandom: Supergirl

Characters: Kara Danvers, Clark Kent, Samantha Arias, Lena Luthor, Lillian Luthor, Ruby Arias, Oliver Queen, John Stewart, Diana Prince, Bruce Wayne, Barry Allen, J'onn J'onnz, Alfred Pennyworth, Lois Lane, Cat Grant, Lucy Lane, Damian Wayne, Felicity Smoak, Streaky the Supercat, Martha Kent, Selina Kyle, Talia Al Ghul, Lucius Fox, Maggie Sawyer, Alex Danvers, Jason Todd, Otis Graves, Lex Luthor

Summary: What if superheroes had to pay a property damage tax every time they had a fight in the city?

Lillian sighed as she watched the clock at Noonan’s gradually tick away the time. She felt a sudden squeeze of her hand. She looked to the seat next to her at the restaurant to see Martha smiling back at her.

“Everything is going to be okay. The worst that can happen is that Amanda won’t tell us anything and send us on our way.”

Lillian gave her a soft smile. She reached down and kissed Martha’s hand and said, “I’m more concerned that she will rat us out to Lex more so anything else.”

Martha raised an eyebrow and asked, “Is that why you suggested meeting at Noonan’s instead of the office?”

Lillian sighed and said, “Lex is lax with watching over me, but you can never be too careful. Both Amanda and I frequent this restaurant enough that it wouldn’t be unusual for us to bump into each other and have a few words.”

Martha looked at Lillian baffled and asked, “Wait? You guys see each other here often?”

Lillian leaned back in her chair and said, “Yes. Amanda and I are usually around here late morning or early afternoon. However, we tend to avoid each other.” Lillian shook her head and sighed. She continued, “Amanda and I used to be best friends in college. We came up with the idea of Cadmus during our senior year as a capstone project. We thought that there should not only be an organization that studies the extraterrestrial lifeforms that were already on Earth but also learn how to coexist with each other. I focused more on the business side of things whereas Amanda worked towards networking and getting funding. Everything went well until Zod came into the picture several years ago.”

Martha winced and said, “I hate that name with a passion.”

“You are not alone in that sentiment. It reshaped Amanda’s perception of aliens as a whole. She viewed every one of them as a threat and that they needed to be removed from Earth. Lex provided her with options to achieve that and in return, she provided him funding to support his research efforts on the subject. I objected to all of this, but she still pushed me out. Fortunately, enough people from Cadmus didn’t like Amanda’s new direction and decided to come with me as I formed my own company.”

“If you think she has so much hatred against aliens, why do you think she would talk to us.”

Lillian leaned her head back and stared up at the ceiling thoughtfully.

“There have been rumors of Leviathan changing direction for a while now. They have always been anti-alien, but their choices in political candidates have been interesting to say to least.”

Martha looked at her quizzically and asked, “How so?”

“Well, the candidates they have supported so far are pro-alien rights and making reforms to help aliens become citizens. It is a complete 180. Lex wasn’t willing to cooperate with their changes so he was cut off. Amanda has used funding from Leviathan in the past. I am curious to see if she followed the road Lex took in regards to them, or if she fell in line to their new policy. If she did, we may be able to get something out of her.”

Martha nodded and said, “I like that particular theory. Hopefully, it doesn’t take that long to get information out of her. I have so much to do to prepare for tonight.”

Lillian smirked and asked, “Worried about meeting the children I see?”

Martha pouted which caused Lillian to smile. She loved teasing Martha just a tiny bit.

Lillian caressed Martha’s face and said, “You don’t have to worry. Sam, Lena, and Ruby will adore you as much as I do.”

Martha looked down while twiddling her thumbs and said, “Well, Lena has kind of avoided me with everything with Clark. I just worried that she might…”

Lillian kissed Martha’s hand which caused her to blush.

“Lena is more than okay with everything. All three girls are happy that I have put myself back out there.”

Martha smiled and said, “Still, I want to make a good impression and make sure that everything goes smoothly.”

Lillian smiled and said, “It will darling. I am just as eager to meet Kara. I have never seen Lena this happy before. It is like she is floating on cloud nine everyday.”

Martha chuckled and said, “I am not surprised. Kara is a bundle of sunshine that will brighten anyone’s day. I just wished that some of that would rub off on Clark. He used to be so optimistic, but now….”

Lillian squeezed Martha’s hand and said, “Hopefully this stuff with Lex will give us insight into Clark. I don’t have any proof, but I am willing to bet money that Lex has something to do with Clark’s behavioral changes.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he did,” said a woman’s voice.

Lillian and Martha nearly jumped out of their seats. They turned to see a black woman of medium build and short black hair staring at them. She had on a blue business suit. Lillian quickly change her expression to surprise to passive.

The woman smirked and said, “You are losing your touch Lillian. It is nice to see that I can still take you by surprise.”

The woman pulled up a chair and sat down with them.

Lillian sighed and said, “It is nice to see you too, Amanda.”

Amanda smirked while she turned towards Martha and said, “I am assuming that since you brought Superman’s mother that you are wondering about if Lex had anything in store for him.”

Martha looked at her startled and asked, “How….”

Amanda chuckled and said, “Lex wasn’t very subtle about his infatuation with your son.”

Martha glared at the woman while gripping the table until her knuckles went white.

Martha growled, “Yet you help a mad man hurt my son over and over again.”

Amanda sighed while leaning back in her chair and said, “Would you believe me if I told you it was never my attention that he got hurt?”

Martha scoffed and said, “Don’t insult my intelligence.”

Amanda chuckled and said, “Well, I did want your son neutralized after the events with Zod.”

Martha winced at that statement.

Amanda sighed and said, “And before you say anything, I realized that your son was being controlled by Zod. However, that fight between them caused over 200 people to die. Most had the nuance of separating Superman from that. He was drugged after all. However, your son isn’t normal. What if he is drugged or mind controlled again? Who is there to stop him. The Justice League was barely able to contain him the last time. We need measures in place for if that were to occur.”

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meowmeowmessi · 1 year

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This whole "Messi returning to Barca" has wholly torn me. On the one hand, I know that he'll once again become the scapegoat for their failures (thankfully there aren't many recently). On top of that, there are the coolers. Some of them have already started to spew shit like "We don't need him", "we should look at the future", "he can't do what he used to", and "let's not bring him back". They say these things as if Barca's relevancy for the last two decades isn't because of Leo. He gave his blood and sweat for this club and they're so ungrateful for that. They're already saying "he won't fit" or "he'll take someone else's minutes" like STFU <3 Lionel is the reason your club has had any glory in the past two decades whatsoever! Also, I'm afraid they're only calling him back to earn more, instead of a long-awaited reunion. If that's the case, they'll just treat him like a cash cow and I don't want that to happen. He loves Barca too much.

On the other hand, I am sobbing at the idea of him being presented at Camp Nou and being cheered on by thousands of his fans. If they let him showcase his world cup too, I'll evaporate. Paris has literally sucked the happiness out of him. He has always said he loves football and wants to enjoy it as much as possible but Pee Ess Gee has taken out all the joy from the sport so I want him out at any cost. I would've loved for him to go to City but Barca is the best second option simply because the real fans love him more than anything and he deserves to feel all that love in the last years of his career (said while sobbing). Plus the teammates! I can't wait to see him play with Pedri, Busi, and Lewa! I understand we might be clowning for no reason but I genuinely want him to leave Baguette FC.

i don't think there's anything i can add to this— you basically summed up all of my feelings regarding the transfer saga lmao. i'm already seeing true coolers and messi fc duking it out on twt, one accusing the other of being "plastic fans" and whatnot.. literally got me rubbing my forehead while staring at my phone wondering what fresh hell is going to be unleashed upon us if messi does by some miracle return to barça

but speaking of twt, i do think we have to keep in mind that the club isn't making decisions based on what people are posting on social media of all things lmao. i think we fans tend to get lost in the noise of sm and forget that the board members and players and coaches actually have lives outside of the internet and they're not going to get rattled just bc the supposed "genuine supporters of fc barcelona and not dickriders of that pathetic midget who left us bc he's too greedy!!!" started making #xaviout trend for the umpteenth time (see: the aftermath of barça vs man utd)

at the end of the day, it's out of our hands. what i can say is these true coolers are daft the way they're already pinning the hypothetical future downfall of barça (as if it hasn't already happened; the club went from messidependencia to pedridependencia and the kid's been getting bodied by injuries bc xavi's been playing him like a workhorse lol) on messi bc the man you're putting all your hope and faith in this season, xavi himself, is apparently "obsessed" with the idea of having him back. even tebas has expressed interest in his return 😭 acting like you're financing barça with your tax money as you type away on twt isn't going to get you a catalunya passport so chill 😭✋

#genuinely some of these ppl are so inconsistent in their feelings even they don't know what they want #when messi drops a masterclass in a match they see his sofascore rating and stats and are salivating to have him back #then a few days later they come down from the high and it's back to the good old 'oh he'll hurt our rebuild' rhetoric #it does hurt the way these coolers act like messi didn't shed blood sweat and tears for them #but like luis said: football has a very short memory #in general im trying not to dwell on this issue til the summer transfer window arrives bc that's still two whole months away #so no use getting a headache over these things this early. whatever happens will happen #i just hope by the end of it all he escapes from pee es gee #but bottom line i completely understand your hopes and fears 🫂#asks

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electrasev5nwrites · 1 year

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Ninja Daily: Vapors 31

A lesser man would have been panicking. As it was, Yakushi Kabuto would have preferred a less stressful situation, but he was able to keep any traces of unease hidden. This had not gone as expected at all.

His message to Sasori, given using the same techniques that the puppet master thought meant Kabuto was under his control, had been sent as usual. The missive he'd received in place had requested a meeting in person, but that wasn't so unusual that he had been alarmed. He was certain that he would bluff his way through and acquire the backing he needed to run his fledgling village.

He was now alarmed.

"And who, pray tell, are you?" Kabuto bluffed calmness that he did not feel. He was a formidable foe himself, but it was easy enough to see that the masked man who had come to meet him in lieu of Sasori was out of Kabuto's league entirely.

"That's not important," rumbled out from behind a swirled mask. The effect was disorienting and Kabuto had to suppress a shudder and the desire to make a tactical retreat. How had he missed a large player like this? What had happened to Sasori- was he dead, or had the message been intercepted at the start?

"What is important, Yakushi Kabuto, is that you work for me now." The mask came down, and the world turned red.

When Kabuto returned to the Sound hideout in Grass, he impassively countermanded his earlier orders about patrolling the borders and collecting taxes (and new medical subjects from those who declined to pay taxes) from their new citizens. Tayuya scoffed at his wishy-washy behavior, but didn't care much what the little prick did. She'd rather have a real fight than babysit whinging babies anyway.

Takigakure, huh? She didn't know shit about it other than that it was one of the minor villages, but that was fine. She was good at killing strangers.

Good at killing people she knew, too. She let a smirk slip onto her face as she jerkily bowed to her 'kage' and left the room. What he didn't know would definitely hurt him.

"Ready?"

Sasuke might have rolled his eyes in another situation. Of course he was ready. He was only watching the surgery. He didn't quite understand why Tsunade and Shizune thought it was such a major step—he would be providing the bulk of the medical chakra that Shizune actually manipulated for this surgery. She didn't need the help, of course. It was the only way to introduce how it really felt to manipulate internal organs of living beings without the sink-or-swim method, which tended to end up in a lot of dead patients and unconfident surgeons (and that was not done in Konoha anymore, unlike in pretty much every other shinobi village).

The surgery went off without a single hiccup, as he had completely expected. Shizune-senpai was a professional, and it was not an especially complicated task. Medical mask and gloves discarded, he abandoned his senpai and went back to the administration tower to report the results back to Tsunade after Shizune had filed the paperwork for the poor overworked hospital director himself. ("I'm too old for this shit," he'd muttered rather rebelliously. Shizune had given a nervous laugh and carefully not mentioned that it had been her idea to put the hospital director on the advisory council).

The place was bustling, much more so than Sasuke would have expected for the afternoon. He turned right back around and went to go get precious caffeine. Few people could tolerate a shit storm like that without something to soothe their nerves, and he knew the secretary was on holiday with her family. Tsunade would be on her last nerve, if not actually punching holes in walls. Sasuke hated putting up drywall. This was just easier. Spotting Ibiki and two Chuunin he knew worked in codes waiting in the lobby when he returned gave him a clue as to what was going on, but it wasn't until he'd managed to hand Tsunade a gigantic latte that he got any sense at to this urgency of the situation at all.

"Have I ever told you that you're my best apprentice?" She ignored the red-faced man who had been babbling about something and took a long drink. "Ah. That hits the spot. You can go now." Tsunade waved dismissively, getting out of her chair and all but shoving him out of her office so that she could leave as well. "You coming?"

Sasuke followed, slightly amused and also slightly annoyed at being treated like a dog. Sit, stay, follow, re-connect metatarsals, and then roll over, why don't you? Nonetheless, he remained silent as the Hokage strode purposefully down to the mission office and put her hands on her hips. "All of you, go home for the day. I am. I will be taking this new information into consideration and you can expect new orders tomorrow. Now get the hell out."

They scattered obediently. Sasuke smirked. At least it wasn't just him.

"Get Shizune and meet me at my house, would you?" Tsunade tossed over her shoulder. "We'll call this a test and see if anything I've taught you got through that thick head of yours."

"Whatever you say, hag," he muttered slightly below what his mentor could understand. Hopefully. While she whipped around to glare at him suspiciously, he turned around and strode back down the hallway to an open window. Shizune was doubtlessly still in her office at the hospital with those damn toxicology reports.

When they were all gathered in Tsunade's living room, Sasuke finally allowed himself to feel curiosity about the situation. Whatever it was must be bad—Tsunade had dug out a pint of ice cream for each of them and gravely handed out spoons at the door.

He also felt a little superior—he would never eat on the couches in his own home. Granted, Tsunade had strange tastes and decidedly non-traditional aesthetic in her home. Perhaps the teal couches and the enormous yellow rug they all sat on would be easier to launder than his tatami mats.

"Are you going to explain, or do we have to ask?" Shizune scraped her spoon around in search of fudge and chocolate bits, wiggling slightly to keep the tub away from Tonton's snuffling nose.

Tsunade leaned back onto the side of her couch, propping her bare toes up on the other side and shrugging languidly. "Funny thing. Turns out the political shithole of Mist is straightening up."

Sasuke furrowed his brow. 'What?' He knew that they had theorized that their Mizukage was dead- someone named Yagura- but his disappearance had hardly been the event that threw Mist into chaos. Arguably, disappearing was the best thing that lunatic had done for his country.

"Is there a new Mizukage, then?" Shizune queried, actually looking interested. "I'm afraid I don't know of many big names left in the village."

"One Terumi Mei sends us an invitation to meet and greet, one Kage to another," Tsunade said dryly. "In other words, she wants us to court her for favor and alliance. It's almost certainly not in our favor to do so, of course. Mist is going to be a mess for a long time—something like half their forces deserted or went rouge, and she's probably maintaining order through force."

"But if you snub her now…" Sasuke trailed off, implication obvious. Tsunade sneered.

"Got it in one. Good thing I got rid of the old coots when I did, they'd be pushing to insure that I stay in the village and that this meeting falls through. Not that they wouldn't have a point."

"It would be awfully dangerous," Shizune mused. "So much could go wrong. You can't go, you can't snub her, and you can't afford to get caught cleaning up her mess."

"But if we help her now," Sasuke interjected lazily, "we could have an alliance of three out of the five major villages. We are never going to mend the rift with Rock and Lightning."

Those wounds were too fresh, on both sides, and both were still highly militant. Konoha had a tentative alliance with other villages like Grass, for example, but there was an enormous difference between the five major villages and even the respectably mid-tiered ones like Grass. At the moment, Rock and Lightning were probably the two most stable villages, and had a long-standing alliance. If they decided that now was an excellent time for war, no one or two villages could stand against them.

Tsunade looked amused, popping a cleanly-licked spoon out of her mouth and angling a scolding look at his own untouched portion. Sasuke grimaced down at his melting ice cream and reluctantly put a spoonful in his mouth. It was a bit undignified, but he really did like green tea ice cream. His mentor nodded in approval.

"Good point, Sasuke-chan. And that's why I'm sending you and Shizune to meet with her and make nice. It's the next best thing to going myself- entrusting her with both my apprentices is a huge show of trust." Then she rolled her eyes. "But I don't trust her at all, of course, which is why I'm also sending your scruffy ex-sensei."

Shizune groaned.

Surprised, Sasuke raised an eyebrow at her. 'What's so wrong with Kakashi-sensei?'

Then he realized that was the wrong question. Many things were wrong with Kakashi, of course. He amended the thought.

'What specific problem would Shizune have with him?'

She flushed, waving her free hand frantically and inadvertently let Tonton get his face into her treat. "It's nothing! Really. But Tsunade-sama, do you really think that just Hatake-san will be enough?"

"I'm not sending your boytoy, if that's what you're asking," she taunted with a cruel little smile. Sasuke had no idea what she was alluding to, but it didn't matter. Shizune actually looked relieved, so it was probably a bad joke.

"Who will be filling out the team, then?"

Tsunade snorted ungracefully. "Well, Hatake's brat apprentice for one. I'd need a goddamn crow-bar and chakra proof cell to stop that from happening. And then probably one of his old teammates from ANBU."

"That's it?" That was a strange configuration. Either Shizune and Sasuke were diplomats or they were part of the team—if they were solely diplomats, Tsunade should send a four man team with them. If they were part of the team, then it would just be Kakashi and Aiko.

Tsunade cracked her neck. "That's all I have to add, in a way. Danzo stopped by to helpfully offer a suggestion to fill the last space." The sarcasm was palpable. She shrugged. "I'd be disturbed that he was the only one who knew what I would decide to do so quickly, but he has never been stupid. Many things, but not stupid." She eyed Sasuke pointedly. "This will almost certainly be one of his private ANBU. They'd fill out the combat requirements nicely, if I know Danzo at all, but they will also be invaluable for our purposes."

Sasuke nodded ever so slightly. It made sense. He was going to either gather information from this person or try to subvert them.

Then he frowned. "Aren't I probably the least qualified person in the village to emotionally manipulate this person?" He asked a bit dryly, ignoring Shizune's muttered 'Not so, there's always Hatake'. Tsunade actually burst out laughing, snatching up Tonton when he wandered too close and petting his belly. He snuffled happily, completely unaware of the fate of a country being decided above him. It must be nice to be a pig.

"You've never met one of these Root operatives before, have you? There's a reason Danzo keeps them out of the normal forces—whatever the hell he does to them makes it very hard for them to blend in." She shrugged. "Even you aren't that obtuse. If this teammate is a Root operative, you'll know it. Besides, you'll have your nosy little girlfriend to help you make nice. I'm starting to think that there's a hidden Uzumaki bloodline where their complete lack of self-preservation and crippling social retardation somehow combines to form reality warping charisma."

There was probably an argument to be made against that, but for the life of him Sasuke didn't know how to go about defending his teammates or even if he wanted to. He'd had to bang his head against the wall out of frustration when he heard that Aiko had apparently befriended the Suna jinchuuriki who had genuinely tried to kill her not so long ago. Sasuke understood that she might have sympathy for his situation (now that he'd finally been told about Naruto's condition) but that didn't have to extend to actually allowing the creep to spend time around her. Her nonchalance about the affair was shocking.

It was downright unnerving, bordering on a hint that she had a frightening predisposition to forgive abusers. He was going to keep an eye on her, since she wasn't willing to do it herself. Kakashi was probably similarly alarmed, if he'd managed to lift his head from a book long enough to hear about that idiotic decision and parse through the nuances of human interaction.

"Now, as for what I want you two to be willing to accept and negotiate with. First of all, you can thank Hatake for having the presence of mind to seal up Zabuza's sword and bring it back after you brats killed him, because that'll make an acceptable good faith offering. It doesn't do us a damn bit of good without knowing how to use it, but it's an important part of Mist's cultural heritage. In other words, they'll want it back even if they don't have anyone who can use it."

Shizune snorted rudely. "It's also a way to shove in their face that one of our genin teams killed their strongest missing nin." She gave Tsunade an unimpressed look. "Don't you think that sending three out of the five members of that group will be a bit obvious?"

"I like to make my points very clearly," Tsunade responded primly. "I don't know this Terumi woman well at all. She could be a total incompetent."

"Hello. I am called Sai. Please take care of me." Dark hair slipped over his face when he gave a small bow to the group eying him for the first time. Most of the office was thoroughly unimpressed, but not all.

'Hot damn,' Aiko thought. 'Why are all the men I know ridiculously good-looking? This isn't even funny anymore.'

Really, it wasn't. It was easy on her eyes, though. And Sai was slightly older than her physical age- just old enough that she didn't feel like a total creep for checking him out. (She knew Sasuke was beautiful, but hell if he didn't look like a child to her. Maybe in a couple of years she would be willing to tap that, but right now Yamato was her best eye candy).

Sasuke grunted, and for one horrid moment she thought he had spontaneously developed telepathy and heard her unprofessional thoughts. Luckily, he seemed to be ignorant so far. She had carefully kept any hints of the perverted side that Yamato was now far too familiar with for his comfort and that Kakashi-shishou was amused by from Sasuke. That was mostly because she had the benefit of knowing that appearing to have a romantic interest in him was the fastest way to drive Sasuke off. If she wanted him to respect her, she had to be professional.

She'd somehow managed to trick him into respecting her just a little bit, and she wasn't about to ruin it now.

That was another reason this mission was going to be a total drag, she knew. Her displeased thoughts didn't cross her face during the mission briefing and she somehow managed to pay attention to what little she was allowed to know. (Mist? Why the hell were they going on a diplomatic mission with Mist? She thought that they were isolationist and universally hostile). But the situation was still a total bummer. Yamato had been included on the team for some stupid reason, and he was going to think that she had either given up on taunting him or (much worse) actually figure out that Sasuke and Kakashi-shishou were good shields against her perversion. (She definitely curbed her enthusiasm around shishou. He didn't seem ready to see her as an adult yet, and probably with good reason. Her body was thirteen, after all.)

The worst part was that she didn't even dislike Yamato. He was talented, handsome, and seemed to have an easy going personality… when he wasn't paying attention to her. She was almost a little hurt that he seemed to single her out as an object of dislike. She hadn't done a damn thing to him.

Despite her lack of personal enmity for the guy, she couldn't let his pointed silences and little snipes at her slide. It was probably a character flaw, but she always had to have the last word. Most people didn't challenge her (people just sort of let her do whatever she wanted, with the exception of the few people she deferred to without question or attitude), and so this was disconcerting. He didn't fit in her hierarchical understanding of relationships.

'Sai might, though,' she mused. That was going to be a strange fit. They could be equal comrades with differing specializations who deferred to the other when appropriate, perhaps? He didn't seem like he would be overly aggressive, unless one counted the insulting names that had been his trademark in canon. Her personal theory was that those things stemmed from his lack of socialization and not an actual cruel personality, so she wasn't going to let them bother her if they happened.

The answer to the question of nicknames was answered soon after they left the building, accompanied by Shizune. Kakashi-shishou had left in a flicker of light, but the others were all there when Sai turned a painfully fake smile on the rest of them and tilted his head like a bird. "I have read that it is considered friendly to give nicknames to companions based upon their notable attributes."

Sasuke rolled his eyes, the question, 'Is this guy for real' written all over his features.

Sai was socially awkward, not blind. His eyes narrowed imperceptibly at the snub, and then his grin widened to bare perfectly white teeth. "I will call you Dickless."

'What,' Sasuke thought flatly. 'What.' That didn't even compute. Why… who would say such a thing, in public or otherwise? This mission was doomed to failure, because Sasuke was going to kill the moron and hide the body in a lake as soon as they were out of Konoha. This could not stand.

Aiko actually choked. Apparently that nickname had more to do with Sai than Naruto. Or maybe there was a commonality between the two boys that they would doubtlessly not fess up to.

He turned that unnerving gaze on her while Sasuke whitened to an unhealthy shade and became dangerously still with rage, like a cat about to pounce. "And you…" he tilted his head the other way, as if to take her in. She felt Yamato practically begin vibrating with anticipation, clearly interested in the conversation. "I think that you will be washboard. You're rather flat, aren't you."

'Okay, maybe he is testing the waters by intentionally being insulting,' she acknowledged in her head. 'Either that or he's using some logic I don't yet see to assign names.' She was far from flat-chested, especially for an athlete. 'Maybe that means Sasuke is hung like a horse.'

Alas, speculations were useless at the moment, and there would be no opportunities for field investigation.

Her companions seemed to agree that the nickname was inappropriate. Sasuke looked like he wanted to attack Sai, and she might have been worried if he'd already possessed Tsunade's super strength. On the other hand, Yamato looked highly amused at what he probably perceived to be a situation that would embarrass her. Shizune was wheezing with laughter.

Canon had made clear that getting angry at Sai would solve nothing- either he simply didn't understand what he had done wrong or he intentionally pushed back against aggression. So telling him to fuck off was right out. She wasn't even that insulted, really. She knew she wasn't flat, and if she had been, it wouldn't have mattered anyways. Her job wasn't to be pretty, it was to be good at killing people. And she was.

So she took it in stride, looking down pointedly and cupping herself with both hands. "I'm not that flat," she said mildly, giving a generous squeeze. If she'd seen Sasuke's expression at that moment, she might not have continued. "I'm almost a C." She wanted to see Yamato's face –was he smug now, huh?!- but had to look casually back at Sai. "What about him?" She jerked her head towards Yamato.

Sai turned his head to the suddenly still man. "I thought that was the kunoichi of the team," he said mildly.

"An honest mistake," Aiko agreed, despite the fact that Yamato was a hunk of manly man. Said manly man looked a bit stricken. Oh god, she was going to love having this kid around. She gave him a genuinely amused smile. "Well, when you think of one, tell us. I'm sure I'll enjoy it. You have a knack."

He seemed pleased. Perhaps he wasn't intentionally provoking them after all.

'It's just me she hates,' Yamato realized numbly. He felt oddly miffed. That was unfair—this boy had been far ruder than he had. Was she really going to hold a few minutes of dismissal the first time they'd met against him forever? He'd been certain that Aiko was going to join the Uchiha boy in murdering their new teammate and forget about him altogether.

Was this what it was like to have someone you disliked on a personal level? Yamato had never had an enemy like that before.

He didn't like it much.

"Okay gaki," Jiraiya half-pouted. He did feel a little guilty that his apprentice thought he was being neglected so much that he invented a new technique to impress him. So it was time to teach him something really cool. He'd had to pay more attention to what was going on in that last village than his apprentice—something was very wrong among his contacts. The man he had come to meet- the one who had been sending him dull, regular reports for the last few years- had apparently been dead for half a year. Yes. Something was very wrong, and it had been a bad place to bring his nearly defenseless apprentice.

At least it was a nice day for travel. The sky was clear and the sun beating down cheerfully in a way that could have convinced him he was still within Fire Country if he didn't know better.

He stiffened, bringing his hands up and clapping, tapping his wooden geta on the cobblestone surface of the road that hadn't quite yet faded into the dirt that characterized country roads. "The great Jiraiya, the gallant toad sage, will be teaching you his specialty, starting today!" He grinned down at his apprentice.

Naruto looked spectacularly unimpressed. "You already taught me toad summoning, and I don't want to learn how to be a gigantic pervert and get beat up outside hot springs."

'Is that all the kid thinks of me?'

Jiraiya tabled that troubling thought and moved on to pretending to be hurt. "Come on kid, do you really think that summoning is all I can do? I'm internationally renowned because I am a seal master, a rare and difficult specialty."

"What, like the thing the creepy guy put on Sasuke with his hickey of doom?"

That made no sense, so Jiraiya decided to ignore it. That was his general policy whenever his apprentice started to say things that were arranged in perfectly good sentences but still incomprehensible.

"Sealing is an incredibly versatile art," he boasted, posed heroically with his fists on his hips and hair ruffling dramatically in a wind that did not exist. A couple of young girls traveling down the same road passed them, giving Jiraiya strange looks. They were clearly making an effort not to catch attention and edging along the other side of the path. Naruto shrugged helplessly and tried to apologize with his eyes.

'He's not paying attention,' Jiraiya noted. 'I'd better get louder.' He wasn't going to put up with the sheer hypocrisy of his obnoxious apprentice being embarrassed by him. Jiraiya broke social convention because he liked to. Naruto barreled through propriety with all the elegance of a drunken cow.

"Behold!" He whipped out a prepared seal and activated it with chakra. It fizzled and sparked with electricity, charring the ground where it landed. "Fuinjutsu can be used to fundamentally alter the nature of laws of dimension and space, to do things like store chakra, solid materials, bend space, or even time! You can use seals to make explosives, contracts with summon clans, spy, detect intruders, or even utilize powerful attacks of other chakra natures!"

"Big deal, my sister can do that stuff." Naruto turned his nose up. "Boring! I want something cool, like maybe a sword that channels chakra like that Ino's sensei has."

Jiraiya was genuinely insulted. He was far cooler than Sarutobi Asuma, that diapered brat. And besides, "Your sister can't have mastered fuinjutsu. It takes years!"

Naruto snorted. "Maybe for you. She had to learn it for the Chuunin exams."

"That's not a Chuunin skill."

The blonde gave him a 'Are you stupid' look, which Jiraiya resented more than just a bit. "Not her exams, mine. She was working with Anko on the second exam. She made the summoning scrolls that brought Chuunin to meet teams that opened them at the tower."

Jiraiya face-palmed. 'Minato, you put the Kyuubi in the wrong kid,' he groused. 'One of them has prodigal sealing talent, and it's the wrong one. What is Sarutobi-sensei thinking? I can understand testing her to see if she had any of her parents' ability, but why wouldn't he tell me so I could direct it?'

It had to have been a test. No one would honestly expect a Chuunin to master an entirely new skill set like that in a few months at absolute most. Anko wouldn't actually be a bad supervisor for that. Sarutobi sensei had taught all three of his students advanced sealing. Even though Jiraiya was the only one who had gone a conventional route with it, being apprenticed to Orochimaru would have exposed the girl to plenty of fuinjutsu.

He had been a sealing prodigy himself once he got past the initial barriers of learning a new language, of course, but fuinjutsu ran in Uzumaki veins as much as blood did. He'd met a few in his time, and they were positively uncanny, often understanding and executing concepts they hadn't been taught and couldn't verbalize. Naruto had a bit of that quality himself, but it seemed to be directed to understanding jutsu instead. Maybe he had more of Minato in him than Kushina in that regard—Minato had pushed himself to become a sealing expert precisely because he found it difficult and intellectually engaging, not because it was intuitive. He and his red-haired wife had been a fearsome duo indeed with their combined abilities and wildly varying approaches. If they'd lived, they would have revolutionized everything. He was sure of it.

But that ship had sailed, and this was what he was left with. Jiraiya would do his best to pound some introductory level fuinjutsu concepts into Naruto's head to see if it would spark intellectual curiosity. If not… well.

Jiraiya heaved a sigh.

He'd just have to teach the brat to hit things really hard. Depressing.

#vapors #uzumaki aiko #electrasev5n #ninja daily #fanfiction #naruto fanfiction

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ghostbustersreborn · 1 year

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Chapter 4

having to spend the night in jail was one of the worst experiences tara has had in her entire life.

she had four panic attacks. three anxiety attacks. and every little thing made her burst into tears.

at five am. tara eventually fell asleep by laying on all three of the boys.

with her head in egon's lap. upper body in peter's and legs on ray.

it was very uncomfortable for all three of the boys.

now, today was their court hearing.

they had louis tully as their lawyer.

this was really bad.

"the law does not recognize the existence of ghosts. and i don't believe in them either." spoke the judge. "i don't want to hear a lot of malarkey about goblins, spooks, and demons."

a police officer handed him papers.

"we're going to stick to the facts in this case and leave the ghost stories to the kiddies, understood?" requested the judge.

winston stopped by their table a few minutes before the hearing started.

tara was feeling the most anxious out of all of them today.

she didn't want to go to jail.

she was only sixteen. she didn't want to spend the rest of her life behind bars.

she had her best friend emmy. emmy didn't want to be friends with someone in prison and tara couldn't blame her.

"wow, sounds like a pretty open-minded guy, huh?" winston remarked.

"i want to die." tara mumbled.

"yeah, they call him "the hammer"." egon mentioned.

"what can we do? it's all in the hands of our lawyer now." ray said to egon.

tara buried her face in her hands.

"we're so screwed." she agonized.

as if on cue, louis appeared with his arms full of books.

"i think you guys are making a big mistake." louis stated.

"i think we are." tara agreed with him.

"i do mostly tax law and some probate stuff occasionally." he explained. "i got my law degree at night school."

"well, that's fine, louis." ray told him. "we got arrested at night."

ray's head dropped to the table.

tara's did too.

"violating a judicial restraining order, willful destruction of public property, fraud malicious mischief." jack chuckled. "see you in a couple of years at your first parole hearing."

just as he walked away, peter went "you'll never take us alive."

"all right, all right, let's get on with it." spoke the judge.

tara lifted her head. she had tears in her eyes.

time seemed to go by slow. tara was exhausted, so were the boys. it felt like this was going on for hours, expect it was only about thirty minutes in..

"your honor." louis spoke nervously. "ladies and gentlemen of the.. the audience." he turned to them.

"oh god. why did we choose him to be our lawyer?" tara whispered.

"i have no idea." egon whispered back.

"i don't think it's fair to call my clients frauds, okay, so the blackout was a big problem for everybody, okay? i was stuck in an elevator for two hours." he mentioned.

tara slumped down in her chair. this was getting worse not better. worse.

"and i had to make the whole time. but i don't blame them, because one time i turned into a dog and they helped me." he explained.

tara closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"thank you."

louis returned back to his chair.

they could hear people chuckling.

tara never felt more humiliated in her life.

"very good, louis. short, but pointless." egon commented.

time skip to another thirty minutes.

the proton packs were put out on display. something, the boys had to hold ray back for when the officers were taking them out of the ecto-1.

"mr.finaella." said the prosecutor. "please look at exhibits "A" through "F" on the table over here."

on the table next to the proton packs was the slime, ray collected from underground.

"do you recognize this equipment?"

"yeah." finella said. "that's the stuff that the cops took from their truck."

tara rolled her eyes.

"dumbass." she muttered.

"do you know what this equipment is used for?" asked the woman.

finella sighed. "i don't know. uh, catching ghosts, maybe. i don't know." he took a guess.

the judge gave him a look.

"may i remind that the defendants are under a judicial restraining order that strictly forbids them from performing services as paranormal investigators or eliminators."

louis got up, quickly handing the judge his paper after the woman did.

"thanks for the reminder lady." tara grumbled.

"so noted." the judge said, taking the papers.

"now, mr finella, can you identify the substance in this jar marked exhibit "F"?" she questioned as she picked up the jar and took it over to him.

he took the jar, examining it.

"yeah, yeah that's the stuff." he hummed.

tara rose a brow at him.

"your honor, i've been working underground for con ed for 27 years. i never saw anything like this in my life." mr finella honestly answered.

"hmm." nodded the judge.

"whatever's down there, they must of put it there."

ray stood up. "no, we didn't!" he objected.

egon and peter coaxed ray to sit back down.

tara let out a shaky breath, she ran her fingers through her hair.

the judge banged his gavel. "shut up!" he ordered. (idk why but that sounds so wrong 😂😂)

now, peter was sat at the chair with louis speaking. well, more like peter feeding him words and louis trying his best to repeat what he said out to the audience and to the judge.

"so, you were just trying to help out a friend?" louis stuttered out.

"a friend. who was frightened." peter whispered.

"who was a scared of what was happening to her." louis stumbled over his words.

tara clasped her hands together. "oh, god please help us all." she prayed.

"there's no choice in praying to god now, god can't help us." egon informed her.

tara whimpered. "aw, man." she pouted.

"and when you're scared, what?" louis turned to him.

"there was no evil intent." venkman repeated himself.

"there was no evil intent and no malice." louis echoed. "because you live here and when you live in a place, and you love it like you do."

the prosecutor slowly stood up, when she saw what was happening.

"you don't want nothin bad to happen.. what?" louis again turned to him. "it'll never happen again. it's an isolated incident, it's a one-shot deal." he blabbed.

"objection, your honor." the woman interrupted louis and peter.

"what?" louis stepped forward.

"he's leading the witness." she called them out.

"sustained!"

"give me a break, we're both lawyers." he said to her.

"mr. tully, do you have any questions for this witness that might have some bearing on the case?" the judge inquired.

louis turned to peter and asked; "do i?"

"no, we've helped them out already." peter denied.

"no, your honor." just as he walked away he looked over to the woman and went; "your witness."

"dr. venkman." the woman said as she walked over. "would you please tell the court why it is that you and your co-defendants took it upon yourself to dig a very big hole in the middle of the first avenue?"

"well, there's so many holes in first avenue, we really didn't think anyone would notice." he joked.

the audience laughed.

"you keep that up mister, i'll find you in contempt." threatened the judge.

tara went to go flip the judge off before egon gave her a look which made her put the middle finger down.

the slime gurgled.

"i'm truly sorry, your honor." peter apologized.

"i'll ask you again, dr.venkman. why were you digging the hole?" the prosecutor pressed. "and please remember you're under oath."

peter smiled. "there are some things in this world, that go way beyond human understanding. things that cannot be explained, things that most people don't want to know about. that is where we come in."

ray nodded his head, agreeing with everything peter said.

she stepped forward. "so, what you're saying is that the world of the supernatural is your exclusive province?" she questioned.

"kitten, i think what i'm saying is that sometimes... shit happens, someone has to deal with it, and who you gonna call?" peter exclaimed.

the audience erupted in cheers.

i mean, as they should.

"shut up!" the judge snapped.

time skip again, towards the end of the hearing.

"peter venkman, raymond stantz, egon spengler, tara venkman, stand up!" he yelled. "get up!"

they did as they were told.

tara's breathing hitched.

"i don't want to go to jail." she murmured.

"you too, mr tully." he included.

louis reluctantly got up with the others.

tara shut her eyes tight as the judge told off what they were guilty for.

tears ran down her face.

the slime began to gurgle again.

she reopened her eyes, that was the first thing she saw.

was the slime.

tara's brows furrowed.

"what the?" she whispered.

ray noticed it too.

"egy, she's twitching." ray relayed to egon.

egon looked over. his eyes widened too.

"i'm not finished!" the judge thundered.

the slime gurgled more, rising up to the surface of the jar.

"on a more personal note, let me just go on record as saying that there's no place for fake charlatans.."

"uh, your honor?" egon spoke up.

"shut up!" he barked. "tricksters like you in decent society.."

"uh, your honor this is really serious." tara interrupted him.

the slime bubbled over onto the table.

"you play on the gullibility of innocent people." he continued.

"yes, sir.." ray spoke up.

"be quiet!" he demanded.

some kind of wind picked up in the court, making the scene more intense.

tara had her eyes set on the slime.

what was it going to do?

what was going to happen?

"but." ray pointed.

"if my hands weren't tied by the unalterable tethers of the law"

the slime covered the table in it's pink goopy substance.

if this wasn't serious right now, tara would have smiled.

"i would invoke the tradition of our illustrious forbearers, reach back to a purer, sterner justice."

egon pointed to the floor.

everyone slowly got down, shielding themselves from the slime.

"and have you burned at the stake!"

tully gasped, slowly lowering himself down to the ground and under the table.

an explosion went off, eliciting screams from the audience.

tara gasped.

"woah!" she said in awe seeing two bright blue ghosts chained to chairs appear before them.

the ghosts laughed hysterically.

papers flew off of tables as the wind picked up in speed.

"wow!" ray also said in awe.

more screams erupted from the audience as they all tried scurrying away.

and people said ghosts weren't real.

"oh my god, the scoleri brothers!" the judge gasped.

the judge jumped over his bench and ran over to the group. he dropped to the floor, trying his best to stay hidden from the two ghosts.

"the scoleri brothers!" he exclaimed again.

"friends of yours?" tara sarcastically asked him.

"i tried them for murder, gave them the chair!" he explained.

the ghosts shrieked as it continued to wreak havoc in the courtroom.

this was intense.

at least tara wasn't feeling so stressed anymore.

"you gotta do something!" he said to them.

"why don't you just tell them you don't believe in ghosts?" egon sassed.

ray nodded in agreement.

the table lifted from them. they all screamed. they quickly got up, hurrying out of the way of any of the ghosts oncoming attacks.

they made it to the door.

the judge tried to open it. but alas the door wouldn't budge.

the ghosts had obviously locked it.

the judge knocked on the door repeatedly.

the ghost laughed.

the judge then turned to ray, holding onto him for dear life.

"you gotta do something! help me!" he begged.

tara snickered. finding this amusing.

"don't talk to me, talk to my attorney." spoke ray.

"and that's me!" louis cried.

the judge slowly turned to him.

"my guys (he quickly looked over to tara) and girl are still under a judicial mistrangement order." louis reminded him. "that blue thing i got from her." he said, referring to the prosecutor. "they could be exposing themselves."

"and you don't want us exposing ourselves!" peter stepped in.

"not after the shit you put us through today." tara added in.

speaking of the prosecutor..

she let out a scream as the two ghosts grabbed hold of her, dragging her out of the court room.

they all ran over, watching her being taken away.

tara smirked.

"bye, bitch." she waved.

the judge turned away. he had his hands on his head.

"oh, no!" he shouted.

peter went over to him with a smile.

"you're next, bubbles." he told him.

"all right! all right! i rescind the order, case dismissed." he gave in.

"hooray, we won the case!" louis cheered.

"now do something!" he ordered.

they came out from their hiding spot, going over to their proton packs.

they picked them up, putting them on. even tara put one on.

peter groaned as he put his on.

"i always hated this part of the business." he confessed.

tara laughed.

"wuss." she teased.

"shut it, or you're going to jail." peter joked.

they got out their neutrona wands, ready to attack.

"you know, it's been a couple of years since we've used this stuff." peter realized. "i hope it still works."

"it should. power cells have a half-life of 5,000 years." egon addressed.

"well, there's no time for a bench test." ray said. "heat 'em up."

as they turned their neutrona wands on..

"do."

"re."

"egon."

egon smirked when peter gave him a look.

"oh, so egon "i'm always serious" spengler has a sense of humor now?" tara commented.

this was some character development, if i do say so myself.

they looked ahead, just waiting for the ghosts to reappear.

ready to fire at any given moment.

the silence was so loud. it was deafening.

the wind wooshed as they each took a step forward.

chairs began to flip over on it's own. indicating the ghosts were here.

"whoa!" ray exclaimed.

the chairs bounced over one by one.

they started firing at the ghosts who now made their appearance(s).

the boys yelled out.

the ghosts growled at them.

sparks flew about in the room. as the group struggled capturing the insane ghosts.

"jesus! what are they a class five or something?" tara wondered.

"no, a class three. your nose would be bleeding if they were any higher." egon informed her.

the ghosts flew out of their reach, disappearing into thin air.

peter let out a yell.

silence filled the air.

did they catch them?

they started to laugh.

even egon laughed.

but their celebration was soon abruptly stopped by one of the ghosts reappearing.

"oh, shit!" tara swore, jumping a little.

louis screamed, running out of the way.

tara turned on her netruona wand again. she glared at the ghost.

"okay! hold it!" egon instructed her.

tara brought the ghost out to the middle of the room. she followed her proton stream.

once getting a perfect capture stream on the ghost. all three of the boys smiled in victory.

"you got him! you got him!" ray proudly exclaimed. "spengy, get the trap." he ordered.

"okay! okay!" egon said as he went to go grab the trap.

just as he did, the second ghost arrived. coming towards him, laughing it's eerie sinister laugh.

"behind you, ray!" egon pointed with the trapper.

egon ducked right as ray sent out his proton stream towards the ghost.

glass shattered, having most of it land onto the judge.

"hold him, ray!" he demanded.

peter stepped in and helped tara handle the first ghost.

"the both of you, start bringing him back!" egon told the father-daughter duo.

they did as they were told. slowly bringing it out of the center of the court room.

"come on, you fish eater. let's go. yeah tubby." peter insulted the ghost.

egon kneeled down, with the trap in hand.

"ray, keep pulling to the right." he commanded. "okay, the trap's going in." egon said once both tara and peter were closer to him.

egon slid the trap over.

"now, now, now!" yelled ray.

"hold it, ray!"

"hit it!"

egon hit the pedal, opening up the trap.

slowly but surely both the ghosts were zapped inside.

the trap beeped. they all stared at it with bated breath, just waiting for the ghosts to pop out.

once, they were for certain the ghosts were fully trapped inside..

tara let out a sigh she hadn't known she had been holding.

"oh my god. i thought it was never going to end." she expressed, holding a hand to her chest.

all four stepped over to the trap, with smiling faces.

"two in the box!" ray declared.

"ready to go." egon said back.

"we be fast." peter went.

"and they be slow!" all four exclaimed, pointing to the trap.

louis came into view and stared down at the trap.

"wow!"

the boys and tara walked out with many people from the press wanting to interview them.

"we're the best! we're the beautiful! we're the only, ghostbusters." peter declared.

the ghostbusters were back.

#fanfic #fanfiction #ghostbusters #ghostbusters fanfiction #ghostbusters reborn

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livesdngrsly · 2 years

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Do I try to keep this blog ‘relevant’ and reference the new movie (when some of the developments disturbed me), and maybe open it up a bit more for JW chars/etc with later verses? Idk. Will it matter? Doubt it! But I’m going to try.

Ideas under the cut/Muldoon’s JW era/JWD verse.

Bob, God bless him, didn’t make it to the 2000s, so anything in that era with him is a bit strange to me.

What’s a natural progression of Rob as I write him surviving JP and living into the 2000s? Read on.

Masrani couldn’t buy him for World, despite him working for TigerWorld in the past (he didn’t return there either). He’d oppose military use of dinosaurs, very specifically raptors of any kind, and all of those ridiculous projects. He opposed World. He’d side eye anyone saying they train raptors.

Ultimately...Rob went back to Africa. I don’t think events would have played out the same in all of the films if Rob lived..sorry.

With the bankruptcy of InGe.n/Hammond’s death, he got Animal King.dom in John’s will (I really do HC Rob was that close to John, despite all their estrangement in later years). It might sound like a stretch but Rob helped open Anima.l Kingdom...and John knew it wouldn’t have happened without the help of a young game warden back in 1969.

Masrani would have tried buying out Rob and getting AK (with plans to possibly add prehistoric animals - I’m talking cloned mammals which the company was apparently working on). Rob did not, and instead gave it over to the KWS/Ken.yan government, where it was combined with Nai.robi National Park. For some years, he was head warden there.

With Fal.len King.dom’s developments/Dominion he became senior warden of the country’s new Exotic Wildlife Service under the KWS, that’s nothing unbelievable, as everyone would know who he is there, and he never hid the truth about the dinos if he survived.

I considered him being a part of the one in the films, Dept of Prehistoric Wildlife, but they frankly seem too much like a government stooge outfit with a lot of paperwork, and my Rob doesn’t trust that type of thing - is it global, is it yank? Who knows. Doesn’t really see eye to eye with them either.

He did vote they should all be destroyed and still thinks that. Unfortunately he’s tied to the damn dinos for the rest of his life, and he was involved in their return. He’s obligated to help and since they aren’t going anywhere, they’re his problem.

Of course the DPW would check in with him & the EWS of Kenya, but the big deal in Af.rica is...Dinos are going to really tax the ecosystem and poaching is already a massive problem. Dinosaurs would not simply integrate without a care, they’re vastly different creatures and they’d be competing for the same food. We’re not even discussing the human crisis. Therefore DPW and EWS do not always see eye to eye, because the EWS is going to take into account the sustainability and management needed for the changes in the bio-diversity.

Senior citizen Rob has more credentials and done some writing in his snr yrs, as well as lectured and trained locals involved with conservation and local wildlife. KWS and (and everything preceding it) have been part of his life, he’d finish out a stint with the local service to try making sense of the literal nightmare thrust on conservationists in Afr.ica and train the younger generation to take over.

[ If Tem.bo’s also still around, he’d love to wrangle some dinos w/ Rob (Ajay and George would as well). They’d be buddies by now, and their shared experiences with the islands in the 90s (and InGxn being a piece of shit) would bring them together. ]

#⑊ . chaotic shift. hcs #⑊ . they should all be destroyed. rmuldoon #please retire rob

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notalwaysright · 2 years

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Taxing Times At The Tax Office

https://notalwaysright.com/?p=258192 I am twenty, but this is my second year working in a tax office as a receptionist overseeing the office. I am a quick learner, and most people mistake me for being twenty-four or twenty-five, probably because of the way I speak and interact with others. I have a customer make an appointment for around 7:30 pm and he comes in at 7:00 pm. I inform him that my professional is with another customer and that I expect them to take about thirty minutes, but it could take longer. Forty minutes later: Customer: “I’m tired. I’ll come back some other day. I don’t get off of work until 6:30 pm.” Professional: “Sir, I have your paperwork in the system already; I just need you to sign and we’ll be done.” Customer: “Well, all right, then.” Come to find he is still waiting on a form and is rejected. He goes ahead and pays and tells us he’ll come back with the form so we can finish his return. We do give him back his paperwork since we already have it in the system, so we don’t need it for our records. The following day, [Customer] comes in at 5:00 pm and I realize as he speaks that he is quite drunk. Customer: “I want my paperwork back!” Me: “Sir, we gave you your paperwork last night.” Customer: “No, I don’t have it. You do! Give it back!” Professional: “Sir, we gave you the paperwork. We don’t have it. Have you checked your truck?” Customer: “You crooks! Give me back my paperwork! You are stealing!” Me: “Sir, my professional and I remember giving you the paperwork back. We have it in the system, so there was no need for us to keep it.” Customer: “Who are you to call me a liar?! You don’t know anything!” I stand from my seat and dial up my tone from, “Hi, how can I help?” to, “I’m not gonna be intimidated.” Me: “I am the supervisor of this office, and I am telling you we don’t have your paperwork. You took it home last night. Now, as we can’t help you unless you help yourself, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.” He sits stunned for a moment, as he was probably expecting an inappropriate reaction or getting his way with his intimidation tactic. Customer: “I want your manager’s number! I want corporate’s number! I want to talk with someone else!” Me: “I will have my manager contact you by tonight. Please leave.” Customer: “I want a number or location!” Me: “Sir, I cannot give staff contact information. My manager will call you; trust me.” Customer: “Where is he? I’ll go to him myself.” Me: “That’s not gonna happen for two reasons. They oversee multiple offices, so we have no idea which location he’s at. Second, I don’t need you causing a disturbance. I will have them call you.” Customer: “How are they supposed to contact me?! Give me their number!” Me: “I have your name and number in our records. I will give them to them.” Customer: “Well, why didn’t you tell me that in the first place?!” He stormed out. I gave my professional a look and we both expressed confusion. I did give my manager [Customer]’s contact information, as well as a short summary of what happened, and they called the guy. Come the next morning, I checked my email to see that a supervisor from another office had reached out to tell me that [Customer] went there and started yelling at them, calling them stupid, crooks, and incompetent, and claiming our office had stolen his paperwork. My manager let me know that the supervisor called him as they were startled by his hostility. I decided I would treat myself to some ice cream after work to calm my nerves. Source: https://notalwaysright.com/?p=258192

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blackstockart · 8 months

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September 11 A Door I Went Through.

Six years ago today I had a stroke, they told me. Half my body paralyzed. I lived in a hospital for 6 months, gave up my cat and apartment, put my belongings in storage, returned my nice Toyota van, my only debt, no longer needing it having to work as a courier for cash to live.

I focused on my formerly devalued self and art career in hospital. Photgraphize, an international magazine of incredible art, took me on as part of the 1% of applicants they accepted. I applied to Elephant Ear, a local arts emergency health organization with strict professional qualifications and they granted me some money to use to recover. I wrote and self published a personal history book as part of my refurbished practice and as part of my study of REBT using it as a means to aid my psychological health.

Other procrastinations, a consequence of abuse by narcissist family and lovers, were also dealt with. Such as years of neglected tax returns and cleaning house of shitty relationships, from the formerly intimate to my being spiritual financial prey of a yoga school.

A woman nursing in the hospital said, “God is healing you.” “Where was the fucker when I had the stroke?” was my response. I seem to be in a daily confrontation with the passive aggressive regarding my injury that also prey upon the seemingly vulnerable to signal their virtue in support of batshit beliefs.

I am subject to their resentment and lashing out and smear campaigns when I say, “No thanks”, to their unoffered and unrequired assistance with my doors and groceries.”Do you need some help?” is a welcome question. Then I can choose, which is my right. The virtue signalling creatures just grab my door in condescension and judgement, forcing me to find some other way to balance, or when I simply say, “please don’t grab the door I’m using it for balance”, they grab the door aggressively anyway, and wonder why I ignore them in the community as a consequence. Sometimes like this past week I am criticized as “a miserable fucker”, I say that I find them aggressive, that’s why I don’t talk to them.

I rarely respond in kind as I don’t wish to behave as they do, as I don’t have their psychiatric disability.

In fact the neurologist found me only slightly disabled on their scale of disabilities which include the cognitive. Apparently my I.Q. is excellent as is my ability to wipe my own ass. Oh. The sordid and squalid indignities of the hospital.

Months later, living independently in community and attending outpatient physio, an occupational therapist who liked to rub her breasts on my affected arm (David Cronenberg gets his ideas from meeting hospital staff), informed me that I would be driving within the year. I love to drive. My 1000 year old Scottish clan of peasant Islanders often took to the transportation of people, cargo and war, by land and most often the sea, it’s in my bones. Seasickness is unknown to me and I love the sensation of wind and speed. I have the typical injuries that go with that life, sciatic damage and a finger partially amputated by a client's type 3 diabetic alzheimer's dog. The WCB had sued and just then arrived enough money to buy another Toyota, fix it up, and get it equipped for special needs.

After 2 years of living indoors I returned to my first love, the mountains near my home in Calgary and I visit my big rocks regularly.

So was it fortunate or God’s will or unfortunate that I had a stroke? I rely on the advice of my psychotherapist Albert Ellis, who said, if you lose an arm (or anything) do everything you can to deal with it, then ignore it and focus on satisfactions. You may not have as many choices but you still have some. The purpose of life is satisfaction. Shitty things happen to nice people and nice things happen to shitty people. If it is to be, it's up to me.

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gnanaweb · 9 months

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Story of happiness

Young couple

It was a pleasant morning with a gentle breeze which took me a long walk with my friend Raju, we both recollect our sweet memories.Raju, he not only my friend he is my well wisher, he guided my life in many circumstances… Now, we both are successful entrepreneurs because of his guidance. It was my college 2nd year semester examinations time, that time there was no internet facilities like today, we should go to library and search for books, i went to the library and looking for the book written by my professor. I found that book it was in last shelves, when i went to get that book i saw my friend preparing for the exam, so i thought don’t want to disturb him. Finally, went to that book and when i took the book, realised that someone holding at the other corner of the book. At first, I looked out the fingers they were in pearl white and with mehandi which adds more beautiful. Then, i looked her eyes, they were browny with a stroke of kajal. It's Divya my classmate, she is a innocent girl sitting in the second bench, never mingle with the boys.. She left the book and went out from the library. I took that book and register till the examination, so that i don’t want to miss and then i searched for her. I know the importance about book, it will help her to get more marks in exam, she is sitting sadly under the neem tree. I went to her and asked “you really need this book” . She replied “yaa, i need to prepare for exam”. I asked “Shall we share this book, so that we will mutually benefited, and we can easily complete the topics” . She think for a while and said okay.. Her acceptance brings a huge U turn in both of our lives… We become so close, she shares not only my book also my happiness and sad….. Semesters begins we concentrate in studies, we both made group studies for other subjects. I cleared the exams easily because of her. I spend the my semester holidays with her. It gives me a new feeling, we both went many places and spended the holidays.. A year runs like a Hussain bolt. Final year exams got over and result camed. We both scored good marks and got our degree. We planned to continue our PG in same College. This time i planned for many places to spend time with her….. At some circumstances, we both fell in love with each others, life moves on…. I discussed with Raju about our love…he gives me advice about our responsibilities, he told me to do discussion about our future, and to start savings which will help our future… As per his advices, we made discussions this made us to feel our responsibilities and our families situations, our backgrounds are not so wealthy. We planned to work part-time jobs,after our college hours and make a savings.. Raju gave me an idea of investing in mutual funds, this will help us in future. From his advice, i met a Financial Advisor. He helped me to make investment in Mutual Funds We Started investing in MF as SIP (Systematic Investment Plan). First we find out our needs for periods of within a year, short term and long term.. And we both invested as per our needs, this made our lives more lovely and feels matured… After a period we got jobs, and increased our savings. Then we got married with the permission of both the families.. Then Me and Raju planned for our passive income. So, that it could give us the extra income. We planned to open a mansion for working men's.Income comes from the mansion are invested in Mutual Funds. It gives tax benefits and good returns. Life moves on, now me and Raju become a Successful entrepreneurs. We created our life, we created our wealth….. Our life is in our hand.We Should create our life.. Life is like a Clay, first plan, design and then execute….

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2023dailycheckin · 1 year

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1/9/2023

Didn’t log anything on Sunday. It was a pretty laid back day, slept away most of it. Texted Al for his birthday.

Today I woke up at before 7 while everyone was getting ready. The dogs were whining and it woke Winnie up so she was popping her head up while eating and slamming it back down on my chest again. Brayden loudly watched TikTok’s until he headed out for school. I fell back asleep after everyone was gone.

Woke up again at about 9. Ate a quick snack and made pre-workout and then packed up my gym bag. I got Winnie dressed in her cute overalls outfit and headed toward the Y. I signed her into child watch and went upstairs. I did a lap around the upper part of the gym and then used the rowing machine for about 10 minutes. I walked on the treadmill for 20 minutes and then went back to the lockers. Mike called so I wandered around for a little talking to him and then I picked Winnie up to head home.

Got Winnie home and changed. I missed a call from my mom so I called her back and had a long FaceTime conversation about how her life was going, it was good. We chatted for a while about Mike and about moving. Mike called while I was talking to her because he needed to be sent money for a permit while he was out in Cincinnati. I sent it over and called him back when I got off the phone with my mom. We talked for a few minutes about work stuff and then Winnie woke up so I hopped off the phone again to feed her. Texted Chase that I would pick him up.

Brayden had volleyball at the Y planned for tonight so when I picked Chase up I decided to go to Walmart to get basketball shorts for the boys. Chase seemed to have a decent day at school. He got KitKats and a few other things at Walmart and I got goggles and a swim cap. When we got home Brayden had locked us out but came to the door pretty quick. I gave him the shorts and let him know we’d all be going to the Y later on.

I made some Indian chickpea and tomato stuff for myself for lunch and then started on dinner. I made baked potatoes, kielbasa and sauerkraut. Mike got home right as food was getting done. The kids didn’t like the sauerkraut and sausage but ate their potatoes, Mike asked for the rest of it to be packed up for lunch so I did. I also made chia pudding for later on.

Everyone got ready for the Y and after searching for and finding my purse, we started that way. I dropped Brayden off at the front and then parked with everyone else. I got Chase signed up for a card at the front and Brayden called to let us know volleyball was actually tomorrow so he was going to work out. We went upstairs to show Chase the equipment and walk laps. Chase just wanted to walk instead so we walked 10 laps with the baby and decided to head home. It was pretty busy and I think Chase and Mike were feeling a little burnt out.

Brayden asked again about sign ups for track and field so I said I would work on it when we got home. We pulled up in the driveway and Mike slammed the door as he got out, I have no idea what he was upset about but he seemed pretty unhappy. We got in the house and Mike and Chase took dogs out. I started on Brayden’s forms and when Mike got in he worked on laundry and played with the baby. It took about an hour to finish the forms and once I finished Mike headed upstairs to bed and so did Brayden.

Threw on Bob’s burgers, had some orange juice, fed the baby and wrote this so I can get some sleep.

I’m feeling burnt out so here are things I am grateful for. I stay home every day with the baby and get to work on myself. Our household is healthy. I got new knockoff crocs today and they are cozy. We have enough money to get by with a bit to spare. Noel is coming on Friday. Tax return forms will get here soon. My husband is kind and loving even when he’s frustrated. The kids didn’t fight me on chores today. Winnie had a very good day, she hardly cried at all. I am getting to know her better everyday.

Tomorrow I need to remind Mike to call the maintenance people and to check for a therapist for Chase. Brayden has volleyball.

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nako-doodles · 2 years

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can you explain this to my stubborn asian mother that doesn't understand things have changed since. honestly i feel like im not important if i dont have money. she always asks how much money i have saved up.. (i never answer) but then i feel guilty when she asks me for money cus i feel like a disappointment like i should be helping her out so i gave her liek $500 last wk and i have no idea what she used it for but that was a months worth of work for me (im a part timer) *sigh*

oh i brought my budget book and receipts over on a sunday and literally went row by row with her, then i opened my tax returns and linkedin, and then i showed her all relevant economic and house/car prices over the last 50 years to drive my point home like a truly lovely mother daughter bonding time. you dont need to be that stubborn or spiteful, i was just driven up a wall bc she wouldnt believe me no matter how many hour-long conversations i had w her.

#open communication! be honest and truthful! and bring proof! godspeed darling 💖💖💖#me junior year hs: here is my debt so far calculating interest rates and what i can reasonably expect for a job......#here is what i get on my part time job while studying; here are the exemptions i get from taxes; here is room board textbooks etc...#credit all gains debit all losses etc etc mom you made me study econ but i could ace this accounting stuff #ans

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diegodog2002 · 2 years

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Grant Part V

After three years in jail for stock fraud, and tax evasion Patrick was up for his parole hearing. Sitting in the hearing were Grant and Rich. Patrick was very surprised to see them in the room, but he knew with them at the hearing, he would be in for another three years. There was no way they would give him a good recommendation to be released. As the hearing progressed, the judge asked if anyone had anything to say on behalf of Patrick Fitzgerald. Grant stood up. Patrick’s heart sank. Grant began telling the judge what predicated Patrick’s being in prison. Then he told the judge that he had been monitoring Patrick’s progress since being imprisoned. Grant said he was impressed that Patrick finished getting a real college degree and was actually working toward a master’s degree in finance. He continued by saying Patrick had a knack with finance, and he was very impressed with what he had done so far. Grant recommended that Patrick be paroled, and that if the parole was granted, he would hire Patrick as an apprentice at his office, working directly for him. His salary would be sufficient that he could afford an apartment and even an automobile if he so desired. Grant said he would oversee all of Patrick’s finances as a condition of the parole. When the judge returned from his deliberations, he granted Patrick parole. He told Patrick that he had a very strong ally in Grant, and as a condition of parole, Grant would have to make good on his promises of a job and everything else for Patrick.

When the hearing was over, Grant and Rich approached Patrick. Patrick asked Grant why he was doing this for him, considering it was Rich and he who put him in prison in the first place. Grant told Patrick that he had done it for the reasons he had laid out the judge, and he really felt that Patrick had great potential in finance, and he would now have the chance to prove it. Patrick asked what Rich thought of this arrangement, and like Grant, Rich said he was all for it. Grant informed Patrick that Rich was now working for him and he was an executive with the company.

Grant offered Patrick a room at his apartment to stay in until the apartment Grant found for him was ready. Grant could tell that Patrick was suspicious of the whole offer and asked him about it. Patrick let them know that he was suspicious because of their sending him to prison in the first place. Then Grant gave him a reality check. “Where do you think you would be today if you had not gone to prison”? Grant asked. “I don’t know.” was Patrick’s response. “Well, let me tell you. You would be dead. The guys you were fucking around with and scamming were putting a hit out on you! They wanted their money or your body broken”. Grant replied. “Bull shit! I had everything under control.” Patrick retorted. “No, he is telling you the truth”. Rich interjected. Reality finally set in with Patrick. He had no idea how bad things had gotten.

Patrick moved into his small apartment the evening before his first day at work. Grant told him that whatever he had been able to salvage from his apartment before he went to prison, he put into Patrick’s new apartment. He let Patrick know there was not much. Most of his furniture and other household belongings were either repossessed or sold at auction to pay his lawyer fees. This included his car. It was mostly personal possessions that were left.

Patrick wanted to make a good first impression on Grant and Rich. He found his all his shaving and personal gear in the bathroom. After his shower and shave, he went looking for his underwear. Since he had not put anything away himself, it was a search. He finally found inside one of the drawers an assortment of boxers, briefs, thongs, and jocks. They were all different colors, and in cotton, silk, nylon, and satin. He knew these were not his, because they were brand new and freshly laundered. There was a folded piece of note paper on the top of one of the stacks. Patrick unfolded the note and read it:

Thought you might like these. Your old tattered worn Fruit of the Loom briefs had seen better days. I hope these are all the right size.

Patrick smiled and decided to put on a pair of the white CK low rise briefs. He went into his closet to see what was there. All his knockoff suits and ties were gone, as was almost everything from before he went to prison. He only had a few pair of dress slacks and a couple of dress shirts left. He got depressed very quickly. He knew both Grant and Rich were great dressers, and he had nothing to compare to their suits. He pulled out a pair of navy wool gabardine slacks and a light blue long sleeved dress shirt. As he was putting the pants on, he noticed they were showing signs of aging. They had become shinny in the seat, and there were some tiny moth holes in them. Not only was the age of the pants a problem, but Patrick realized his own shape had changed in three years. His toned tight arse and thighs were now bigger and a little flabbier than it used to be. The pants were tight across the seat, waist and thighs. His shirt was not much better. It had been a fitted shirt, and he no longer had the washboard abs he used to. The buttons on his shirt strained to stay closed. As long as he stood up, the shirt looked alright, but as soon as he sat down, the buttons pulled and large gaps formed around the buttons. He remembered the drawer the saw the socks in and looked for a pair to put on. All he found were mid-calf length socks. Patrick searched all the drawers looking for some sock garters, but could not find any. He would have to hope there was enough elastic in the socks to keep them up. The hardest blow came when Patrick went to look for a pair of shoes to put on. All his fancy fake designer shoes were gone. He only had two pair of shoes. Both pairs were loafers, one brown pair and one black pair, and one pair of sneakers. He looked at the sneakers and said “it figures, the only real designer anything I had bought, and it had to be Nike sneakers.”

Patrick’s apartment was not far from Grant’s office, so it made the walk quite easy. When he got to the office, the receptionist greeted him like he was a longtime member of the team and told him to go ahead into the office, as Grant and Rich were waiting for him. Grant and Rich had been looking over some blueprints when Patrick entered. They told him to take a seat Patrick saw the large armed wooden chair in the middle of the room between their desks and sat down. Rich gave Patrick a funny look and said they would be with him in a few minutes. They quickly finished looking over the blueprints and returned to their desks.

Grant began by re-telling why he wanted Patrick to work for him. He really felt Patrick was a good solid worker who had gone astray. One of the things he told Patrick that he did not tell the judge was that he had made good on a lot of the debt Patrick had amassed. Patrick had swindled so many people, that they were willing to settle for any amount they could get back. Grant told Patrick he would be working to pay back the money Grant had used to pay off Patrick’s debts. Patrick nodded in agreement.

Grant and Rich laid out their plans for what they wanted Patrick to do. Patrick thought that it was not a bad gig, and there really was nothing he could not handle. Grant pulled out a paper and told Patrick it was his work contract. He needed to sign it, as the parole board wanted proof of his working. Patrick started to rise out of his chair to sign the contract, but he could not get out of his chair. “I can’t get up!” Patrick sheepishly said “What do you mean you can’t get up?” Grant asked. “I am stuck to his chair! It is like someone poured glue all over it! My arms are stuck to the arms, my back is stuck to the back, my arse is stuck to the seat, and my legs are stuck to the legs of this char!” Patrick stated. Both Grant and Rich looked at each, chuckled and said “I guess it was not dry.” Patrick questioned “What was not dry?” Rich said “we were testing some new lacquer and sealant on that chair this morning. It was supposed to be quick drying. We put it there in the middle of the floor to see how long it would take to dry. Then you came in and sat down in it.”

Grant and Rich stood behind the chair. They felt the finish and found it was now dry. So dry in fact that Patrick’s clothing had become part of the finish. Patrick kept trying to get out of the chair, but each time he did, the chair would bounce up with him. “Let’s try to get you out of that chair with the least amount of collateral damage.” Grant said. “It took a while to get the finish on this chair just how we wanted it. And by the way, this was NOT a setup”

They told Patrick to try and free his shirt sleeves from the arms of the chair. Patrick pulled both arms up, but they would not budge. He did this a couple of times and said he thought his sleeves were finally loosening. He gave one hard strong upward thrust on his arms and RRRIIIPPP, the sleeves tore open on his shirt. They ripped from the shoulder down and through the cuffs. His arms were free, but his torn shirt sleeves were still stuck to the arms of the chair. Patrick used his now free arms as leverage and pulled his back away from the chair. RRRIIIPPP, the back of his shirt tore apart down the sides, leaving the back panel of his shirt still adhered to the back of the chair. The front of his shirt fell off him. Now bare chested, his upper torso was free from the chair. Patrick tried to carefully stand up. However when he did, the chair came with him, and before he could sit back down, the sound of his pants ripping was heard. Patrick quickly sat back down in the chair. He was embarrassed for having sat in that chair. He knew no one had told him to sit in that particular chair. There were other chairs in the office he could have sat in. Patrick told Grant and Rich to just hold onto the chair and keep it on the floor. They both braced themselves on the back of the chair. Using his arms for leverage, Patrick put his hands on the arms of the chair and quickly jerked himself out of the chair. RRRIIIPPP, RRRIIIPPP, and RRRIIIPPP, Patrick’s navy gabardine pants tore apart. First at the outer edges of the back pockets and down his ample butt, then down the sides of his thighs, and finally down his legs and through the cuffs of his pants, as Patrick shot out of the chair. Even though he was now standing only in his white CK’s, Patrick was relieved to be free from the chair. Patrick looked himself over only to see little pieces of his clothing were still stuck to his arms and legs. He asked Grant and Rich if there were any pieces on his back or on the back of his legs and arms. Both replied yes. Patrick started to pull the pieces off his arms, but they were stuck on too well and he was unable to pull most of them off. The ones he was able to pull off, hurt when the pulled his body hair and skin. Grant said he had an idea. He went to his desk and took out a bottle of hand lotion. He rubbed some of it onto Patrick’s arm and worked it in. Surprising to all of them, the pieces of material that were stuck to his arm came off with ease. Grant told Rich to help him, and they both poured lotion into their hands and then all over Patrick’s back and arms. When the lotion was rubbed in, they easily pulled the fabric bits off. Next they moved down to Patrick’s legs. They both knelt down in front of Patrick and started rubbing the lotion into his legs and thighs. They perhaps used more lotion than they should have. Patrick was getting an erection. It was hard to hide it in his CK briefs. Seeing that Patrick was getting hard only make Grant and Rich rub more and more lotion onto Patrick’s legs, and higher up his thighs and to his crotch. Patrick was lost in a daze. It had been a long time since someone else other than his own hand got him hard and hot. While Patrick was still in his daze, Grant slowly slid down his CK briefs to his feet. Patrick’s cock shot out and was already at full attention. Grant put a large amount of lotion into his hand and rubbed it onto Grant’s hard stiff cock. Patrick started to moan with pleasure. Rich took the lotion and poured it down Patrick’s lower back following the contour of his beefy ass crack. As the lotion followed the curve of Patrick’s arse, Rich rubbed it into his crack and massaged his man hole. Patrick spread his legs apart to enjoy what was happening to him. He stepped out of his briefs and kicked them out in front of him, where they laid on the floor. With his legs spread, Patrick arched his back and pushed his arse out as far as he could. Rich was able to get his fingers deep into Patrick’s man hole, while Grant continued to pump his engorged cock. Patrick let out a stifled moan again. Grant told him not to worry, nothing could be heard on the other side of the door. The office was soundproof. Patrick started moaning louder and longer as he shifted back and forth on Rich’s fingers in his hole and Grant’s hand around his cock. It became obvious to Grant and Rich that Patrick was holding back from coming. He was rocking back and forth on their hands, but would not let himself go. They told him to relax and cum. It was alright for him to do so. In a moment’s time after that, Patrick let out with an orgasmic guttural sound and came. Stream after stream of cum shot out his cock. Most of his cum shot across the floor and onto his briefs. Patrick did not want to stop coming, he had three years of pent up frustration to get out. Once his cock finally became flaccid again, and Rich took his hand out from his arse, Patrick nearly collapsed with exhaustion. He had forgotten how great it felt to have someone else get him off, even if it was not as he planned.

After he was stable, they told Patrick to go into the inner office. In the inner office there was a door to a private toilet with a bath and shower. Grant told Patrick to take a long warm relaxing shower and get the rest of the pieces of his clothing removed. Obediently, Patrick did as he was told not even caring he was naked. Once he was out of sight, Grant told Rich that getting Patrick off and watching him shoot his load just about make him cum in his pants. Rich nodded and agreed. Without saying anything to each other, they stepped over to the chair that still had Patrick’s torn up clothing attached to it. Grant picked up Patrick’s cum soaked CK briefs from the floor sniffed them and carefully laid them out in the chair. He then unfastened his pants and let them fall to the floor. Under his pants he was wearing a powder blue thong that was straining and being pulled down against his hard stiff twelve inch cock. He pulled his cock out the side of the thong and began to jerk off in the direction of the chair. When Rich saw what Grant was doing, he followed suit. He pulled his pants down to reveal his tight red silk micro bikini briefs. He tried to pull his stiff cock out the side, but he was already too hard to get his cock out. He pulled his briefs down. His large ample cock was straight as an arrow. He started jerking off on the chair also. They both knew they did not have a lot of time, so they jerked harder and faster. In only a few minutes Grant let out a grunt and shot his load all over Patrick’s briefs. Even before he had finished shooting his wad, Rich stared to cum. He too covered Patrick’s briefs with his own load. They both quickly shoved their still semi-erect cocks back into their underwear and pulled their pants back up. No sooner had they zipped their pants up, than a telltale wet spot appeared in the fronts of both their pants.

Patrick returned to their office with only a small towel around his waist. He had water droplets still dripping from his wet skin and his hair was uncombed and damp. Acting like nothing had happened; Patrick took a seat in one of the other chairs in the office and began to ask questions about this job. Grant and Rich told him of their expectations and that he would only be taking direction from them. Following their back and forth questions and answers, Rich told Patrick that he would be sitting at the third desk in their office. Patrick got out of the chair he was sitting in. As he stood up, his towel fell off, and he stepped over to his desk. Before he got to his desk, he stopped in front of the chair that had the remains of his torn clothing on it. He looked down and saw his briefs had been moved from the floor, and placed on the seat. He ran his hand over the briefs only to discover they were saturated with a sticky and slimy substance. Patrick picked up his briefs from the chair and brought them to his nose, inhaled deeply and smiled. He put the cum filled and soaked briefs on, and adjusted his cock inside of them. When he took his hand out from the inside his briefs, he had cum on his hand. He rubbed his cum filled briefs onto his cock. Again he smiled before raising his hand to his mouth and licking the remaining cum off his hand. Patrick remained in his briefs the rest of the day. It was getting very late in the day, almost evening, and Patrick was beginning to become concerned that he did not have anything to put on in order to get home. Just as Grant and Rich were leaving the office, they told Patrick to look in the bottom drawer of his desk. Patrick opened the drawer and found two gift wrapped boxes. He tore off the wrapping paper and opened the boxes up to reveal a brand new pair of designer slacks and a new designer shirt. Both articles still had their tags on them. Patrick immediately put them on.

As the weeks went on, things seemed to be working out quite well for everyone. Patrick appeared to be holding his own and even taking on some extra work. However, Grant noticed some funds had been moved around, nothing from the clients’ accounts, only from internal accounts. The amounts were really insignificant amounts, and could have easily been overlooked, except Grant was keeping close tabs on all the accounts. Grant knew he had to curb this behavior before it led to anything substantial.

On a Sunday afternoon, all three of them were to attend a gala charity event. It was a semi-formal event being held in the ballroom of one of the best hotels in the city. They decided to meet at the event. Both Grant and Rich wore very quiet grey suits with white shirts and patterned ties. They were waiting for Patrick to show up before they entered the event. Patrick entered the lobby of the hotel. Both Grant and Rich did a double take. They could not believe what he was wearing! His attire for this semi-formal event was a pair of skin tight shinny white satin pants. The pants were so tight, that his cock and ball sack were clearly outlined beneath the pants. They were tight all the way down to his ankles, which is where they ended. His shirt was black satin and fitted. If he had the build he had before he went to prison the shirt would have looked great on him. However, since he did not have the abs definition anymore, he looked like he was stuffed into it. Unfortunately, his selection of ties was poor also. He wore a skinny fuchsia coloured tie that he wore loosely around his neck. His jacket was the exact same colour as his tie, bright fuchsia. It was very short on him, and barely went below his waist. He would be hard pressed to button it if he had to, and once again, the sleeves were tight. As he stepped closer to Grant and Rich they noticed his socks were also fuchsia, and he had on a pair of black suede loafers. Rich was the first to say anything. He asked, “What the fuck are you wearing?” With a look of bewilderment. Patrick asked “What do you mean?” “You look like a god damned pimp!” Rich retorted. Grant cut in “OK guys, let it go. We will talk about this at another time.” It was clear that Grant was not happy with Patrick’s attire either, but did not want to make any more of a scene than was already being made.

As the afternoon progressed, there was a silent auction in which Rich participated in. When the auction was over, Rich had won one of the items. He asked Patrick if he would go to the office and get a company check from his desk. Their office was only a few blocks away. Rich said he would have another drink waiting for him when he got back. Rich gave him the office key and Patrick was on his way.

It was getting dark by the time Patrick got to the office. He unlocked the main office, and then proceeded to their office. No sooner had he unlocked their office door, when someone hit him over the head knocking him to the floor. It took him a few moments to regain his senses. When he did, he picked himself up, but forgot about how tight his pants were. RRRIIIPPP, Patrick blew out the back of his white satin pants as he got to his hands and knees. He started crawling into the office, when he felt a heavy boot kick him in the arse. This sent him sprawling to the floor again. Patrick felt a hand on the back of the collar of his shirt pulling him to his feet. Before he could get to his feet, the buttons on his shirt started pulling and straining. One by one, they started ripping off his tight satin shirt. Rip, pop, rip, pop, the top 5 buttons tore off his shirt, tearing the front placket and exposing his chest. His tie loosened around his neck. The hand released his collar, and Patrick fell to the floor again. He crawled on his hands and knees to get away from his assailant. His pants continued to rip and tear as he crawled. Once again, Patrick felt the heavy boot kick him in the arse. He lay on the floor for a moment before turning over and sitting up. He looked at his assailant, but could not tell who it was, as he was wearing a ski mask. Patrick looked at his white pants and saw they were also dirty in the knees and attempted to brush them off. “Fuck man!” he said. “What’s going on here?” The masked man said nothing. He raised his booted foot to Patrick’s crotch. He pressed his boot down on Patrick’s cock and balls, and wiped his boot bottom off on Patrick’s pants. Patrick let out a cry of pain when he felt the pressure of his assailant’s boot on his crotch.

The assailant pulled Patrick’s tie off him and used it to tie his hands behind his back. He slid Patrick back to the front of one of the desks. With the leftover length of tie, he tied Patrick’s hands to the leg of the desk. Patrick noticed his captor was looking around the room for something, but was not sure what he was looking for. The captor stepped behind Patrick, and Patrick could not see what he was doing. Suddenly he heard glass breaking, and a moment later, his captor was standing in front of him again. When he saw what his captor had in his hands, he knew where the broken glass sound had come from. There was a glass sealed display case hanging on the wall, and inside the case were 4 fishing rods. They were not antique fishing rods, but they were very expensive rods with reels attached. Patrick became very concerned that his captor was going to use the fishing rods as whips and whip him, because he was using the rod as a whip, flailing them through the air. With his voice breaking, Patrick attempted to engage his captor in conversation by asking why he was doing this to him. Were they acquainted? Was he doing this for someone else? His captor remained silent. His captor stepped back, and cast one of the rods in Patrick’s direction. The hook landed on Patrick’s tight pants. The captor reeled it back in. He did this a couple of times with this one rod. He set the rod down, and picked up one of the other rods. Patrick was having a difficult time trying to figure out what his captor was doing and why. His captor again cast this rod in Patrick’s direction. This time, when the fish hook landed on Patrick’s leg, it stuck. His captor took up the slack in the fishing line, and gave the rod a slight tug back. When he saw that the hook had caught in Patrick’s pants, he stepped forward and unhooked it. He reeled the line in as he stepped back. He cast the line once again. The hook again caught. This time though it caught the fabric high up near the waist of Patrick’s white satin pants. His captor took up the slack again and gave a little tug on the rod. The hook did not dislodge from Patrick’s pants. Patrick looked at the hook, and saw that the hook had caught deeper into his pants. This time though his captor gave the rod a hard continuous jerk back. RRRIIIPPP, the hook tore through the satin pants with very little resistance.

Patrick let out a scream for help, but quickly remembered the office was soundproof. His captor cast a different rod. This time the hook caught on the breast pocket of Patrick’s jacket. Patrick looked down at the hook and saw that it was a hook with 4 barbs on it. He squirmed around. Why he did not know. He quickly realized he was not going to get the hook detached from his pocket. His captor pulled back on the fishing rod and took up the slack. The rod arched severely. Patrick thought the rod was going to snap and break. His captor continued to reel in the line. He struggled for a few seconds, then RRRIIIPPP, Patrick’s pocket ripped down on his jacket, tearing off the pocket and ripping down the jacket to the hem. Only then did the pocket completely tear off and was left dangling from the fishing rod like a captive fish. Patrick begged for his captor to stop. He said he would give him whatever he wanted. His masked captor still said nothing.

His captor dropped the fishing rod on the floor and picked up yet another one. Patrick noticed that this rod had a rig on the end of it. The rig had five separate hooks, each hook was attached to its own lead. The five leads were then attached to one line. That one line was then attached to the fishing line. His captor cast the rod to Patrick. All five of the hooks attached at the shoulder of his fuchsia sports jacket. His captor stepped to the side so he was now in line with Patrick’s arm. He took up the slack, then slowly he reeled in the line. RRRIIIPPP, the sleeve on Patrick’s sport jacket began to rip down. RRRIIIPPP, RRRIIIPPP, Patrick’s sleeve was shredded down to the cuff. His captor pulled on the line and rig once more, and the hooks finished tearing through the cuff of his jacket. His captor laughed and said, “This rod does good work.” Patrick did not recognize his captor’s voice. Trying to make him talk more to see if he knew the voice. Patrick said to him “what the fuck do you want with me”? There was no reply from his captor. His captor cast the line again, but none of the five hooks caught. He reeled the line in, and cast it again. This time the hooks caught on the waist of Patrick’s white satin pants again. In a row they caught next to the zipper and across to the front pocket. Patrick yelled, “Stop! Stop! Please STOP!” His captor ignored him, and slowly reeled in the line. The five hooks slowly began ripping and shredding down Patrick’s satin pants. After making five small rips down the leg of Patrick’s pants his captor stopped. Patrick’s pants were so tight that as he squirmed, his pants began ripping on their own. His captor watched as the hooks became loosened, and Patrick’s tight white pants ripped of their own volition. When Patrick’s pants stopped ripping on their own, he slowly took up the slack in the lines until, RRRIIIPPP; his pants were being torn down to his knee by the hooks. His captor stopped there for a moment and observed that Patrick was wearing a bright kelly green string bikini or thong. He had not noticed this when Patrick’s pants had torn open earlier. The only covering other than his pants was a small pouch covering Patrick’s nut sack. His captor continued to reel in the line. RRRIIIPPP, he shredded Patrick’s pants the rest of the way down his leg and through the cuff. The front of Patrick’s pant leg was completely shredded.

His captor cast the line again, this time catching Patrick’s black satin shirt near his waist. His captor tugged up on the line. RRRIIIPPP, he tore Patrick’s shirt all the way up the front to his collar. Patrick was cursing out his captor. However, his captor ignored what was being said to him. His captor noticed Patrick’s nipples were erect, and there appeared to be a larger bulge in Patrick’s pants. Was he enjoying this, even though his is cursing, Patrick’s captor thought to himself. He cast the line. This time catching Patrick’s other pant leg. The one that already had one rip in it. He knew the hooks had a good grip on Patrick’s pants. Clicking the reel mechanism back one click at a time, he brought the line in. It was like slow motion movie watching Patrick’s pants shred apart. Once his pant leg was completely shredded, more of Patrick’s kelly green underwear was exposed. He knew Patrick was definitely wearing some string underwear.

Satisfied with the work he had done on the front of Patrick’ clothing, his captor untied Patrick’s hands from the desk and turned him over onto his stomach, before tying him back to the desk. Patrick felt the cold floor on his chest and legs. His captor wiped his feet across Patrick’s jacket and across his arse, leaving long black streak marks on his jacket and pants.

Patrick listened as the heavy footsteps of his captor retreating farther back in the office. He heard the sound of the fishing rod reel being cast and felt the five hooks connecting with the back of his jacket somewhere near his shoulders. Suddenly, Patrick felt a sharp tug on the back of his jacket before, RRRIIIPPP. His Captor had yanked back on the fishing rod, and shredded the back of Patrick’s jacket. He tore it from the shoulders all the way down and through the bottom hem of the jacket. To Patrick’s chagrin, his captor had a good aim when it came to casting the fishing rod.

Nothing happened for a few moments. Patrick was hoping his captor was finished destroying is clothing. Once again, he heard the fishing rod being cast. This time, he only felt two hooks connect. Patrick knew the hooks had landed on his arse. Very slowly, one click at a time, the fishing rod was being reeled back in, until it was taught on his arse. Patrick sensed that his captor had hooked his back pocket. With each click of the rod, Patrick’s back pocket was straining as it was being pulled. Then with one click, the strained satin was heard tearing. Click, click, and click the pocket began to rip. The edges of the back pocket were being peeled back from the fabric connecting them to the back of his pants. A few more clicks of the reel and his back pocket was peeled back exposing his butt cheek. Once Patrick’s butt cheek was exposed, his captor stopped for a moment to note that Patrick was indeed wearing a kelly green string bikini brief. The back panel of the brief barely covered his exposed butt cheek. After he had gotten a good look, his captor reeled in the hooked pants. RRRIIIPPP, the back of Patrick’s pants were being peeled back, completely exposing one butt cheek and leg. RRRIIIPPP, he did not stop until Patrick’s pant leg was completely torn off. A few moments later, Patrick felt the hooks now on his other butt cheek. Patrick did not know what his captor was going to do, as there was only one back pocket on his white satin pants. It was quickly evident, that his captor had used the fishing rod with the five hooks and caught his pants high up just below Patrick’s waist. This time though, his captor began reeling in the rod very quickly. Once there was tension on the line, he made quick work of the other side of Patrick’s pants. RRRRRIIIIIIIPPPPPPP, the five hooks completely shredded the other half of Patrick’s pants. Patrick waited for the next embarrassment. It was not a long wait. He felt his captor’s hand rubbing his arse, and reaching between his legs to feel his cock and balls. Patrick let out a soft moan. His captor began tearing the loose material shreds from the waist band of Patrick’s pants. When Patrick’s arse was completely exposed. The rear of his string bikini was being eaten by his big ass crack. His captor pulled the edges of his silky nylon bikini, releasing them from his crack.

Patrick suddenly became very scared. He had heard the unmistakable sound of a knife being flicked into its open position and locking. He was concerned with what his captor was going to do next. He felt the cold steel slide up his butt cheek and slip under the waistband of his pants. With one flick of the blade, his captor had sliced the waistband of Patrick’s pants. He repeated this on the other side of his pants. Once the waistband had been sliced open in a few places, his captor pulled the torn shredded white satin pants off Patrick. As he pulled the Patrick’s pants from between his legs, he noticed the wet spot on the front of his pants. He used his knife to finish slicing off Patrick’s fuchsia jacket, as well as his black satin shirt. The captor pulled off Patrick’s black suede loafers as well as his OTC fuchsia socks, and tossed them into the pile he had made with the shreds of clothing.

The captor untied Patrick’s hands from the desk and flipped him over on his back, before retying him to the leg of the desk. He immediately noticed that Patrick had a huge bulge in his bikini briefs, but Patrick’s bikini briefs were so small and tight, that the flimsy silky nylon fabric was ripping below the string waistband. Half of his cock was sticking out the rip and his balls were pulling the leg bands away from his side. The captor grinned and Patrick noticed. The captor reached down and pulled Patrick’s cock through the rip in his bikini briefs. He started to stroke Patrick’s cock. Patrick let out a scream, both from the excitement and being scared of what his captor might do to him. The captor stopped stroking Patrick’s cock. He started licking Patrick’s cock head with his tongue, and played with the rip in Patrick’s briefs, running his finger around the hole making it bigger. He finally yanked down on the ripped bikinis and tore the front of them off. Then using the blade of his knife, he sliced the string sides and pulled the bikini out from under Patrick. Patrick was ready to explode, but his captor was not finished with him yet. His captor unbuckled and unzipped his pants and let them fall to the floor. He was commando. Patrick shook his head and said no! His captor had the fattest thickest dick Patrick had ever seen. It was an average length, but it would definitely take two hands to encircle its girth. It had the girth of a salami. Before Patrick could protest anymore, the captor had Patrick’s legs spread and in the air. He was inserting his swollen thick hard cock into Patrick’s arse. Patrick screamed just from the pain being caused by the size of his captor’s cock. He was amazed at how easily his captor stuffed his cock into his hole. Patrick was hurting. It felt like he was being ripped in half. He also found he loved being filled with such a thick member. All the while the captor was banging Patrick’s arse, he was also jerking Patrick off. Patrick was in a complete state of frenzy. He could not believe he was hearing himself telling his captor to shove it in more, and harder! His captor gave it everything he could. He shoved his cock in and out of Patrick’s hole fast and furious, before he came. Patrick’s ass was overflowing with his captors hot cum. Patrick finally could not take it anymore and came in his captor’s hand. Hot cum shot out of Patrick’s hard cock in ribbons, landing on his chest, neck, and even his face. The captor used Patrick’s torn bikini briefs to wipe off his cock. When he was done, he tossed the cum soaked briefs over Patrick’s face, and pulled up his pants

The captor looked around, and noticed there was a fireplace in the office. He tossed the shredded clothing into the fireplace, with the exception of the cum soaked briefs. He then lit a fire in the fireplace. Very quickly the jacket, pants, and shirt were ablaze and being incinerated. He then tossed Patrick’s socks and shoes into the pyre, and watched as everything burned up. Once everything in the fireplace was ablaze, his captor left, leaving Patrick naked, tied to the desk and his cum soaked torn up kelly green string bikini over his face. Before he left, he told Patrick that he had better not try to fuck over any more of his people, or next time it would be worse. They were watching him!

Patrick did not move for what seemed like an eternity to him. Finally he shook the torn bikini off his face and started screaming for help. He knew it was probably useless, but he felt he had to try. After a period of time, the door flew open, and Grant stepped in. Grant turned on the lights in the office, and finally saw Patrick on the floor.

“What the fuck!” Grant shouted. “He followed me into the office, and hit me over the head!” Patrick replied. “Who did?” Asked Grant. “I dunno. He had a ski mask on!” Patrick said now almost in tears.

Grant stepped over to Patrick and untied him while Patrick told Grant the story of what had happened. All the while he was telling Grant the story, all Patrick could think of was how perfectly timed everything was. His captor had enough time to do what he wanted. He left and he was alone long enough to have someone show up to rescue him. He also wondered how Grant knew this was where to find him? Rich had sent him to get a check, not Grant.

“Where is Rich?” Patrick asked. “He stayed behind at the banquet, to make sure they did not close the place down, before he got his auction winnings.” Grant replied. “How did you know where to find me?” Patrick asked. “I didn’t. I knew you were headed to the office to pick up a check for Rich, and I was going to use this as a starting point. Where I went from here was anyone’s guess. If I had not found you here, I was hoping that you would have left some clue for me to follow.” Grant explained. It sounded plausible, but Patrick was still a bit skeptical. Then Grant noticed the fishing poles on the floor. He told Patrick he was going to call the police. Perhaps there were fingerprints on them, that the police could use them to identify his captor. Patrick told Grant not to bother, his captor was wearing surgical gloves, so there would be no fingerprints. It was true that his captor was wearing gloves, but the real reason Patrick did not want the police involved was because he was afraid that his captor was sent by one of the underworld criminals that he had swindled, and they wanted him to know they were watching him. Besides, he did not want anyone else to see him naked.

Grant was untying Patrick all the while they were talking. Once Patrick was untied, Grant went into Rich’s desk and retrieved one of the checks Rich wanted. Grant then told Patrick to wait in the office and lock the door. Do not let anyone but Rich and him in. Patrick gave him a look like, where am I going to go, I’m naked. “One more thing.” Grant said. “Make sure that fire is out in the fireplace, we don’t want to burn the place down.” Patrick chuckled. “I will boss.”

Grant left the office, and waited to hear Patrick bolt the door. Once the door was locked, Grant went on his way back to the hotel and Patrick went to work stirring the ashes in the fireplace, and making sure the ashes were no longer smoldering. It felt like hours had gone by, when finally there was a knock on the door. Patrick was afraid to say anything for fear it would be his captor or someone else. Then Grant called Patrick’s name, and told him to let him in. Patrick unbolted the door, and saw both Grant and Rich. He asked what took so long, and they told him it had actuality been just over an hour. Rich burst into laughter. “What’s so funny?” Patrick asked. Rich replied. “YOU! You are fucking naked! But you fucking look a lot better than you did in that fucked up purple pimp getup you had on! “It wasn’t purple, it was fuchsia! And if you remember, my slacks were white.” Patrick replied. “Purple, fuchsia, it doesn’t matter. It was still fuckin’ ugly and in poor taste for the event.” Rich said.| Grant cut in. “Enough! Stop the bickering, the two of you. We need to get Patrick the hell out of here and back to his apartment, without him being seen like this by anyone.” Grant thought for a few moments. “I have it.” Grant proclaimed. “Here is what we do. Rich, take your jacket and trousers off and give them to Patrick.” “What? No way!” Rich proclaimed. “You are wearing boxers under your trousers. They look like walking shorts. Give Patrick your trousers, and you can just walk to the car without anyone knowing anything else. Take your tie, and socks off, and you can carry them to the car. Patrick you put on Rich’s trousers and jacket.” Grant said. “But, but…” Rich protested. “But nothing!” Grant said. “Just do it now no arguments!” With that, Rich kicked off his shoes and took off his socks. Then reluctantly, he started to slide his trousers off. Suddenly, Patrick burst out laughing. “What’s so funny?” Rich demanded. “You! You told me you did not know whether I was wearing purple of fuchsia, but there you are standing there in a pair of fuchsia satin boxers!” Patrick said. Rich was fuming. “Quit the chatter, and let’s get going!” Grant said.

The three of them left the building, and walked around the block to their car. Fortunately, Grant was right. No one walking even noticed what they were wearing. They drove to Patrick’s apartment first. As Patrick got out of the car. Rich shouted out the window to him. “Don’t you dare do ANYTHING to my suit! I want you to return it to me first thing Monday morning, and it better be in the same condition you received it. There better not be any rips or tears in it, and it better not have any of your spunk on it! Rich yelled.

Grant pulled away before Rich could finish his rant. They dove back to Grant’s apartment in total silence. Grant knew Rich was mad. In all the time they had been together, they never not spoken to one another. The ride up the elevator to the apartment was agonizingly quiet. It wasn’t until they were in Grant’s apartment that Rich unloaded on Grant. His rage was focused on the fact that Grant had given Patrick his suit. “Why didn’t you give Patrick your suit? Purple versus fuchsia, who gives a fuck.” Rich shouted. “I am not going to discuss this with you, until you calm down and relax.” Grant said. I am going to fix us both a drink. You need it.” Grant made them each a drink and handed one to Rich. He made sure that Rich’s drink was very strong. He knew a strong drink would calm Rich down quickly. Rich took a big slug on his drink. “OK, I am calm.” Rich said. “Now please tell me why you gave Patrick my suit, and you did not give him yours.” “It was very simple actually. When you got dressed, you put on a pair of satin boxers under your suit. I put on a pair of bikini briefs under my suit. You know that! We dressed together.” Grant said. “Boxer shorts, purple or fuchsia boxer shorts, fuchsia jackets, and white pants… Who gives a flying fuck!” Rich said angrily. He took a few more big gulps of his drink. The he set his drink down. He took hold of the fly opening on his boxer shorts, and RRRRIIIIIPPPP! He tore open the front of his boxer shorts, and continued ripping them, until he had wrenched them completely off his body. “There! The fucking fuchsia boxers are gone!” Rich screamed. “I never want to hear of the color fuchsia again!” Grant burst out laughing. “What’s so funny?” Rich said. “You. You got overly upset over a nothing burger.” Grant said. Rich looked at him with a quizzical look. “What’s a nothing burger?” Rich asked. “You. You’re making something out of nothing. Just let it go and take a good look at yourself!” Grant said. Rich looked down and finally realized he had torn off his purple fuchsia boxer shorts. He burst out laughing. He walked over to Grant, and gave him a kiss. While he was kissing Grant, he pulled Grant’s tie, and led Grant to the bedroom. Slowly he stripped Grant out of his suit. Grant was getting into it, stepping aside as his suit fell to the floor. He wiggled his hips and butt for Rick, while he stood at the foot of the bed in just his little sexy black cotton bikini briefs, Rich slipped his fingers under the waistband of Grants bikini briefs as though he was going to slide them down and take them off him. Instead, he pulled at the side seams. Rich pulled the little side panels of Grant’s bikini briefs and RRRIIIP, without much effort, they tore apart and fell to the floor. Rich pushed Grant down onto the bed and laid down on top of him. Rich ground his body into Grant’s. They both had a lot of pent up sexual frustration. It only took a few minutes before they came on one another. They fell asleep in one another’s arms.

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