#if that bothers someone ill just remove it no worries

[strangersteddierthings]

Sequel to Good People - The fic in wherein Wayne doesn't like Steve and overheard a conversation he shouldn't have. Here's the aftermath of that :3

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Final Part

-

Wayne had stayed in his bedroom long after he heard the boys leave. Eddie had knocked on his door to let him know he'd be staying at Steve's and to not expect him back until late tomorrow, a courtesy he'd never shown until after he'd been the victim of a manhunt back in spring. Wayne never asked him to do that but he thinks Eddie picked up on how worried Wayne would get if he were gone for any amount of time.

Eddie's always been good at reading people when he bothers to pay attention to them. Maybe that should have been enough reason for him to give pause to his dislike of the Harrington boy, instead of needing to overhear the boy crying about how he thinks there's something rotten deep within him that only Wayne can sense.

He'd been so sure he knew what kind of person Steve Harrington was. Eddie had been hung up on boys just like him pert-near his whole life, Wayne thinks, and it's never ended differently.

It's a Tuesday night and his friends usually gather at the bar on Friday nights, but Wayne needs to get out of the trailer to think. A beer might help. So, he grabs his keys and heads out.

He's been a regular at this bar since before he was even old enough to drink. Used to come with his pa, may he rest in peace, just to get out of the house. He's been a patron longer than any of the staff have worked there, he realizes.

"Hello Linda," Wayne greets as he takes a seat at the bar instead of at his usual table. He'd done a cursory glace when he came in and confirmed none of his drinking buddies were in before choosing the bar.

"This isn't your usual day," Linda says, leaning a hip on the counter, "but it's always a pleasure to see you."

"I got some thinkin' to do," Wayne replies and Linda nods and moves away, returning soon with a bottle of his usual beer. She picks up the bottle open and removes the cap before setting the drink down in front of him.

"Need a sounding board, hun?" She asks.

Wayne does a quick survey of the bar again but it's pretty quiet so he returns his gave to Linda and says, "if you wouldn't mind too much hearin' about how an old man might have messed up."

Linda laughs. "You aren't even half a decade older than me, so you best not be sprouting that 'old man' nonsense around me, 'cause I am not some old lady."

"Terribly sorry, Linda. I'm just really feelin' like an old fool."

A small frown comes to Linda's face then. "Now what could you have possibly done?"

"Well, I guess I'm tryin' to figure out if I did mess up. Eddie's got a friend and I don't trust 'im. Thought I had good reason not to, but, well, I overheard somethin' I wasn't supposed ta and now I'm not sure."

Linda hums, "hmm, that doesn't sound like you, judging someone unrightly. You are usually a good read about people."

"I'll admit, I haven't bothered to spend enough time with the boy to, uhh, judge him."

"Wayne Munson," Linda scolds, "you best not be telling me you judged that boy because of other people."

Judging by Linda's raising brow line, he thinks his guilt must be clear on his face. "You know Eddie, and how people have treated him. And with what he just went through- I just want 'im safe. Sure, his new friend graduated last year, but he was on the basketball team his whole career. And I'm jus' supposed ta believe this one boy didn't side with the group who started the manhunt?"

"Unless you've got evidence otherwise, yes," Linda says, brows furrowed.

Wayne sighs. "I ain't got proof. I got a lot of people sayin' he's good, actually. But it's the Harrington boy. The same boy Eddie would come home and complain 'bout. Harrington, Hagan, Hargrove, though I shouldn't speak ill of the dead. All them boys treatin' Eddie like he wasn't worth nothin' until they wanted somethin' form him."

Linda's mouth is almost a perfectly straight line with how much she's pursed her lips the more he talks, but she doesn't interrupt and no customer calls for her, so he continues.

"And you know what Richard Harrington was like. I know y'all only shared one school year together, but Janice wasn't any better, and she was your year, wasn't she?" Linda gives him one nod in response. "That boy's a product of them. I- You can't fault me for thinkin' differently."

"So, when do you expect Eddie to end up in prison?"

The question throws Wayne and fills him with anger at the same time. "Now, Linda, I ain't likin' what you are implyin'."

"I ain't implyin' nothing," she says, using the same tone with him that he did with her. "I'm applying your logic. Eddie's a product of his parents, ain't he? Al's in prison, and his mama's long gone, bless her soul. And since Eddie ain't sick, last I heard, he must be following after his daddy."

The anger leaves him then, and all he's left with is shame. "Point made. And if I'm bein' fully honest with ya, I don't even need ya to defend that boy. That thing I overheard. That what's eatin' at me. He called me good people."

Linda softens, shoulders dropping, "you are good people, hun."

"That boy told my Eddie that I'm 'good people', and that his parents are bad ones, and I. I don't know what to do about that."

"He thinks his own parents are bad?"

Wayne nods, "is what he said. Thinks I can somehow sense he's also rotten just by association."

"There's nothing to it, then," Linda says, like they've already talked out the tangled mess that is Wayne's thoughts on Steve Harrington and have reached a conclusion. Well, perhaps Linda already has. She's always been bright, and she's usually right. "You, Wayne Robert Munson, need to apologize to that boy. The guilt and shame's gonna put you into your cups otherwise."

Wayne nods slowly, though he isn't even sure if he agrees or is just acknowledging what she said before he takes a long pull from his bottle before lowering both his arms to rest on the counter as he replies, "You're right as usual, Linda my dear. I just gotta let go of the fact he's Richard Harrington's son and try and see just Steve."

"Damn right. Eddie might be Al's by birth, but you raised him and he turned out alright. Maybe Steve got the same treatment. Had his own Wayne around to raise him right."

There might be a bit of truth to that. He's heard enough talk about Steve Harrington over the years to think that. One of his drinking buddies used to be Jim Hopper. He's heard about the amount of parties he'd had to go shut down at the Harrington's house, with no parents to be seen. (Always Jim's biggest gripe back then. "Where's this kids goddamn parents!?) Wayne always assumed their kid just took advantage every time his parents were gone, but maybe it's the opposite. Maybe they were always gone, and Steve had parties to not be alone in his house.

Linda's right. There is nothing to it. He needs to talk to Steve, properly apologize, and go from there.

"It ain't an easy thing, admittin' you might be wrong," Wayne sighs.

Linda reaches across the counter and places a hand on Wayne's arm just below his wrist. Wayne looks up from where he'd ended up staring at his bottle, making eye contact with her. "If your boy is friends with this boy, it's for a reason. Just give him a chance. You are one of the good ones, but even we can have a lapse in judgment now and then. Doesn't make you bad, makes you human."

"Ain't no one perfect but the good Lord," Wayne says and Linda nods in agreement.

"Alright. I'll leave you to your beer and your thoughts for now, but you best keep me updated on your situation. I wanna know how it goes," Linda retracts her hand and heads down the counter to check on the few other people sitting about nursing drinks.

Wayne sits in his thoughts more than he drinks, so by the time he's done with the beer it's warm but that's fine. He will talk to the Harrington kid, but he wants to talk to Eddie first. He owes his nephew that much, and he does recall Eddie saying something to the effect of 'he'll come around' to Steve, and Wayne wants to tell Eddie he'll try.

Also he doesn't want to just corner the boy after he's been somewhat intimidating intentionally. He's going to get Eddie to ask if Steve'll talk to him.

True to his word, Eddie returns home late the next day. The clock says it's almost 6 when Eddie finally comes through the front door. If he's surprised to see Wayne awake, he doesn't show it. He does work the graveyard shift, and he's got a shift at 10 tonight, usually wakes up two hours before his shift. He'd wanted to make sure he caught Eddie, though, so he's been up since three.

"Eddie, you got a minute?" Wayne says.

"Sure. What's up?" Eddie says as he pulls off his jacket, depositing it on the nearest surface before plopping sideways on the couch so he's facing Wayne.

"I gotta come clean. I overheard some of what you and Steve were talkin' about," Wayne says, because he's a man of his word and he's always been good at doing the hard thing if it also turns out to be the right thing. He's got to be honest with Eddie, so he can be honest with himself. "Heard Harr- Steve talkin' 'bout how he thinks I'm a good person, and his parents aren't."

Eddie's quiet for a moment, blinking owlishly back at him while he thinks. "Oh. Umm. Sorry. I just- I think this is the first time I've heard you say Steve's name."

"Not the part I thought you'd focus on," Wayne huffs a laugh, "but I owe your boy an apology and I was hopin' you could help me make it happen."

"My boy- what is happening," Eddie drops his voice to whisper the question to himself.

"What's happening is I'm doin' the thing I always told you ta do. Taking accountability and fixin' my mistake."

"Oh. Oh!" Eddie narrows his eyes at Wayne, "you've made an ass out of me. All those times I assured Steve you were just being standoffish and you were- what were you doing?"

"Intentionally keepin' the boy at a distance 'cause I thought he was gonna hurt you. I sure as hell ain't been friendly. I been judging him because I knew his parents, thinkin' about how an apple don't fall far from the tree," Wayne stops, giving pause to see if Eddie will speak but he isn't. He's just staring at Wayne like he's a puzzle. "It was brought to my attention that it's mighty unfair to judge someone 'cause of how their parents act."

Eddie's brow furrows and his lips purse. It makes him think of Linda. She'd made the exact same face. "I- Jesus fuck this is weird, but I. I think I'm mad at you. Disappointed."

Eddie doesn't say it with an angry tone, and his face still looks more puzzled than mad, but the sentence feels like a kick to the chest anyway. Eddie and he have never been mad at each other, not in the eight years Eddie's lived here with him. They've been worried and scared for each other that, or mad at someone or something else that they take out on each other, but never mad at each other.

"You've every right to be."

Eddie stands from the couch, paces down the hallway, and Wayne thinks this might be the end of any conversation tonight, but instead Eddie comes storming back up the hall. "So, what, did you take me in expecting me to be my dad!?"

"No. He mighta contributed to your birth, but we both know that man ain't nurtured you a day in his life."

"Yeah, well, Steve's parents didn't raise him either, so all this has been bullshit! You made Steve think he's, he's broken and a bad person! And," Eddie's eyes are wet and he's angry but also about to cry. Wayne hasn't seen him like this in a long time. Not since the day they learned Al was in prison, fifteen years with a chance for parole if he's on his best behavior. Eddie had been so angry, and sad, and hurt by the news. Eddie's like that now, worked up so much he's repeating himself as he hiccups his words out around the lump in this throat, "And, and you made me help him feel that way! Because I didn't take him serious when he said, said you didn't like him! I thought you were being, being a dad, all fake gruff to intimidate the guy I like but it's- you were- FUCK!"

Wayne lets him yell. He deserves it, and Eddie needs it. Eddie's not saying anything untrue. He takes in what Eddie is yelling at him; Steve's parents didn't raise him, and how Wayne's cold shoulder must have added to whatever else Steve has going on in his life.

"I, I h-held him while he b-bawled into my shirt last night! He, he thinks- and you, you didn't even trust me! T-trust my own j-judgment of, of Steve! I, I need- I can't-" Eddie doesn't finish the sentence. He turns on his heel and storms back down the hall, the slamming of his door finalizing this conversation.

To say that Wayne feels terrible is inadequate. He's hurt his boy, and he's hurt his boy's boy, and he's got no one to blame but himself.

Now he's got two apologies to make.

I tried to tag as many people as I could remember that expressed interest in a follow up fic. I am SO sorry if I missed you. Please let me know if you want to be tagged in the final part. I will only be tagging people who ask to be tagged going forward 'cause it's a lot of people to remember and my memory is garbage.

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss @unclewaynemunson @itsthestrangestthings @emofratboy @devondespresso @finntheehumaneater @loopholesinmydreams @yourmom-isgay @wrenisflying @emsgoodthinkin @messrs-weasley @madigoround @jackiemonroe5512 @gutterflower77 @zerokrox-blog @eriquin @samyuck @lunarmaruna @mugloversonly @kaij-basil-lionelli88

#steddie #my fic #wayne pov #wayne munson #eddie munson #honestly this didnt go the way i thought it would #so there will be a third and final part. Wayne's gonna make it right because he's a good uncle. A good dad. #SPOILER: steve doesnt even show up in this part so im not tagging him

[girlgenius1111]

worry about them

barca femeni x reader [platonic]

r pretends she isn't sick. when it becomes obvious she is, her teammates fuss over her. general sickfic things [nausea, passing out, throwing up, etc.] angst x fluff :)

You woke up feeling awful. Really, truly awful. Every flu symptom, you had. Headache. Stuffy nose. Sore throat. Cough. Nausea. You'd been running yourself ragged in the past few weeks, but it wasn't your fault. Half of the team's defenders were out, and you had been playing every minute of every game. You couldn't afford to be sick. You pulled yourself out of bed, splashing some cool water on your face, hoping to reduce the fever you definitely had, before slowly moving through your morning routine.

It was a good thing you got up early, because it took you extra long with how slow you were moving. You needed coffee, but you didn't think your stomach could handle it, so you choked down as much breakfast as you could, and then headed out the door.

On your way, you contemplated what would happen when you turned up to practice sick. No team in the past had ever cared that you were sick; you were young, barely 19, and strong, and you could push through, they said. There was a lot of that from them.

Since arriving in Barcelona, all of these ideas had been challenged; by your teammates, captains, coaches, and the team psychologist. So normally, you wouldn't have bothered to hide how sick you were, because no one would care. You had a sneaking suspicion, though, that everyone would care this time. You didn't want to let the team down, couldn't let the team down. You were fine. You could push through, you had before. You resolved to act as not sick as a person could.

Pulling into the parking lot, you mustered your energy, grabbing your bag and heading into the building. As you reached the door, a body flew onto your back, and you almost fell forward, balance all messed up because of your illness. Pina cackled in your ear, and you righted yourself, shrugging her off of you.

"Hola pequeña," she teased, and you sighed. The older girls all called you that, and recently, Pina and the younger girls had taken to calling you it too, seeing as though you were younger than them.

"Hola," you greeted, wincing slightly at the pain talking induced in your throat, and the raspy sound of your voice. You made to keep walking but Patri was whirling you around before you could.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked, eyes squinting with concern.

"Nothing, I'm fine." you replied, maybe a touch too defensively. Patri removed her hand from your shoulder, and looked suspiciously at you, but allowed you to keep going. You made it into the locker room without anymore issues, but your luck ended there. Ingrid caught you sneaking a cough drop out of your bag, and Irene was watching you with narrowed eyes, seeing through your lies in a way only a mother could. She wasn't your mother, but try telling her that.

You felt a coughing fit coming on, so you slipped into the hall with your water, trying to keep it quiet. When you stopped coughing, you found Alexia and Marta standing across from you, watching you with concerned expressions.

"Are you sick pequeña?" Alexia asked.

"No! No, I just choked on my granola bar." You lied. Alexia looked like she was about to push, but someone called to her from the end of the hall, and she walked off, leaving you with a warning look.

Before Marta could ask a question, you rushed back into the locker room, throwing yourself head first into the chaos, until it was time to head to the pitch. The gym session was fine. A little tough, but you managed well, symptoms fading slightly as you worked out, body focusing on the task at hand. The only thing not getting better was how hot you were; well it did, just as you headed out for a scrimmage, and you felt suddenly cold. You thought you'd cooled down, but when your teeth started chattering, you realized your fever had increased.

"You look warm," Lucy commented, always enjoying making fun of you for having a lower heat tolerance than her. You didn't dignify her with a response, shooting her a glare instead. She responded by putting her hands up in surrender, feigning an innocent expression. As you felt worse, you grew more irritated. It took everything in you not to shove Pina to the ground when she was placed on your team and jumped, once again onto your back. Instead, you gritted your teeth and took it.

You successfully made it through the gym session, but it didn't seem that you were going to make it through the scrimmage. Your head was pounding as you ran, and you could barely focus on the ball. You were breathing heavily through your mouth, because your nose was so stuffed up, and you could feel Ingrid and Ona looking at you weirdly when they got close to you. Still, none of this was a practice ending issue on it's own.

Your fever must have just gotten too high, or you weren't inhaling enough oxygen, because one minute you were chasing after a long pass from Ingrid, and the next second, you were laying face down on the ground, head now pounding from where it had smacked on the ground. Moving felt like it would take too much energy, and you could hear people approaching, so you let yourself lay, limp, knowing that your game was up.

Mariona had been marking you, and you felt her hands on your back, before her naturally loud voice filled your ears. You flinched at the sound.

"Ay, pequeña, what's happened?" she asked. You could only groan in response, and Mario rubbed your back sympathetically.

"Roll over, y/n," Ingrid said, her voice coming from the other side of your body. You shook your head, feeling too weak to move. "Come on," she said, grabbing your shoulder and pushing you onto your back. You covered your face with your arm, the light suddenly too much. You tried to push away the hand that rested on your forehead, but you weren't successful.

"She's got a fever, I think," Ingrid announced, and Marta and Irene let out indignant noises.

"I knew she was sick," Marta shouted. You were in the process of raising your hand to flip her off, Ingrid grabbing it in mid air, and scolding you, when you heard the sound of the medics bag jingling as they approached. They cleared everyone out of the way, save for Ingrid, and got you off the pitch quickly. Ingrid may as well have been carrying you as they led you inside, wanting to get you out of the heat as fast as possible.

They settled you on a table in the recovery room, lights off, fan blowing on you, and you cracked your eyes open to find one physio writing furiously on a clipboard, and Ingrid watching you, one eyebrow raised.

"Don't tell Ale," you said, and Ingrid scoffed.

"That's exactly what I'm going to do," she said, marching out of the room.

"No. Ingrid. INGRID!" she didn't turn around, and you groaned, rubbing your face harshly.

"You wouldn't be in trouble if you'd just stayed home," the physio mumbled, and you glared at him. Alexia must have been in the gym across the hall, working on her knee recovery, because you could hear her exclaim the minute Ingrid told her what happened. Her footsteps echoed in the hall as she approached the room you were in, and you shrunk against the bed, looking at the door as she pushed it open.

"Idiota," she seethed. "You could have made yourself so much sicker, what were you thinking," she scolded and you stayed silent, not sure what you could say to make her less angry. Your captain walked to your bedside, placing a hand on your forehead, then your cheek, and then your other cheek.

"They're all the same temperature, Ale," you whined, pretending her cool hands didn't feel good on your blazing skin. Alexia just glared at you, before turning to the physio.

"Flu," he said simply. "She's got all the symptoms. We'll have to watch for pneumonia, considering she just did almost a whole practice, but she should be fine to go home for now." You nodded at his words, but Alexia's face only grew angrier. You heard her mumble pneumonia under her breath, before she looked back at you.

"Drink some water, and then we can go."

"...We?" you questioned.

"Si, I am coming with you" she replied, like it was obvious. "And I will probably have a hard time stopping half the team from coming by."

"Alexia, you don't need to come with me, I can take care of myself," you argue, because you could. You weren't a child. Legally, as of this year, because you'd turned 18, but still. An adult was an adult.

Alexia let out a laugh that was really devoid of much humor. "No."

"No? I don't remember asking a question," you snapped, getting annoyed. Alexia was acting like you'd run her over with your car, not told a small lie about how you were feeling.

"Oye, watch it. Little girls who lie about being sick cannot take care of themselves, clearly." she announced sternly, and you glowered at her.

"I am not a little girl," you retorted, crossing your arms in a way that a pouting child would.

"Then act like it." Alexia said, her own arms crossing over her chest. It was silent while you stared at each other, the physio looking awkwardly back and forth. After a minute, you groaned, throwing your head back, and Alexia smiled triumphantly.

"Vamos, nena," Alexia said, the gentle way with which she guided you out of the room completely contrary to how she'd been acting.

-----

Practice was over by the time Alexia got you moving, and you'd been stopped and scolded by half the team on your way out. The car ride home was foggy, and before you knew it, Alexia was shoving you, fully clothed, into a cold shower, ignoring your protests. It didn't last long, and soon you were out of the shower, and she was instructing you to change, while she went to answer the door. You put on pajamas, sitting on the edge of the bed, feeling miserable, when Alexia returned. Trailing behind her were Lucy, Irene, and Ingrid.

"Have you eaten?"

"You need to drink more water."

"You need to rest, but not with wet hair, that has to dry first."

"Have you taken your temperature again?"

"What are your symptoms?"

All of these questions were posed to you in around less than a minute, and you just blinked at them. Alexia perched in the chair in the corner of the room, content to watch her teammates fuss over you. They practically force fed you soup Irene had brought, as well as multiple glasses of water. Then Ingrid insisted on blowdrying your hair, which you didn't have the energy to protest, even though it would make you hotter. Lucy was lecturing you on the dangers of practicing while sick, which was a surprise, as Lucy didn't seem like the lecturing type. Soon, they were all talking over each other again, and over the hair dryer, and you were overwhelmed, and overstimulated. You just wanted to go to sleep. Helplessly, you turned to Alexia, who spotted the tears in your eyes. Sighing, she rose from her chair.

"Alright, that is enough. She needs to rest." Alexia declared, pushing the girls out of the room. They all complained, sticking their heads back in the room to yell further instructions at you, like you'd never been sick before.

"You can take more cold medicine in 4 hours," Irene called.

"The medicine really dries you out, so drink more water," Ingrid echoed.

"Don't even think about moving from this bed until you're better, y/n, I mean it," Lucy threatened, before Alexia finally shoved them down the hall and out the door. You flopped back onto the bed, letting your eyes flutter shut, hearing the soft patter of Alexia's feet as she reentered the room. She sat next to you on your bed, combing her fingers through your damp hair.

"How are you feeling?" she asked sympathetically.

"Fine," you replied, really just trying to press her buttons.

"Y/n," she warned.

"Bad," you said finally, tears clouding your vision. She carefully wiped them off your cheek.

"Shh, you will feel better soon, I promise. What can I get you, pequeña?"

"Just wanna sleep," you mumbled.

"Okay, sleep. I'll wake you up for dinner."

"Don't have to stay," you said, already burying yourself under your covers, voice muffled by your pillow.

"I'm not going anywhere, unless you want me to call those three psychos back," Alexia stated seriously. That shut you up, or maybe you just fell asleep. Either way, you were silent as Alexia walked back out of the room.

-----

When you woke up a couple hours later, you were hot. Sticky with sweat, incredibly nauseous, and hot. You kicked the covers off of you, the motion making your stomach turn. You groaned, rolling out of bed and stumbling into your bathroom. You collapsed in front of the toilet, retching, trying to keep the volume down, aware that Alexia was likely still here.

"Pequeña?" she called from your room.

"I'm fine, go away," you responded, before you were sick again.

Alexia didn't listen, rushing into the bathroom, and cooing at your disheveled form on the ground. She knelt next to you, tugging your hair into her hands and tying it back, before letting her hand rest on your back, rubbing softly.

"Ale, please go," you cried in between gags, horribly embarrassed for the older woman to see you like this.

"Shh, calm down, estoy aqui," she soothed, ignoring your pleas. She stayed with you until you were done, letting you slump against her, completely drained. Her hand once again came up to feel your forehead, and you couldn't help the whimper of relief you let out at the feeling of her cool hand on your skin.

"Oh, pequeña" she sighed. "You would not be this sick if you had stayed home." You opened your mouth to argue, but she cut you off. "We will have a conversation about what you were thinking later, right now you just focus on getting better. Bed?"

"Bed," you agreed pushing the thought of that conversation out of your head. Alexia helped you to your feet, leading you back to your bed, and tucking you in. She moved to lay next to you, flicking on the TV, and encouraging you to snuggle up against her.

"No, Ale, you'll get sick," you argued half heartedly, already moving to rest your head on her lap.

"Do not worry about that, I will be fine." Alexia assured you. Just then, over the noise of the TV, you heard the unmistakable sound of your front door open, and without seeing or hearing them, you knew it was the three girls, returning to check on you. "Worry about that. They went to the store, and I think they are about to fight over who picked the best cold medicine," Alexia chuckled.

You pulled the covers over your head, just as you heard all three girls, in unison, greet you, and launch into their argument as to why you should take the medicine they'd picked out. Always a competition with them, honestly.

It was different, being annoyed that people cared about you, instead of being annoyed they didn't. Not a bad different, just something to get used to. Even if it required scary conversations with your captains where they lectured you about taking care of yourself. Because it was always paired with warm hugs, and reassuring words, promising that they didn't mind taking care of you. If they didn't mind, maybe you shouldn't mind either.

-----

#woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #alexia putellas x reader #irene paredes #lucy bronze #ingrid engen

[watatsumiis]

Reader with chronic headaches series - Dottore edition

Yes. this is self indulgent. I deserve it because head hurty and i can just feel its gonna get worse. As bonkers as he is, i think he'd be a great person to have look after you when you're not well (provided you have a close bond with him). Be aware that this is heavily based off of my own experiences with chronic headaches and migraines (and what I do to look after myself when I have them), and is not indicative of everyone's experiences.

Content: Gender neutral reader (implied to have chronic headaches and/or migraines), pre-established platonic relationship with Dottore, just. general Dottore warning, he's a little creepy and likes to keep lists about people.

At first, he's weird about it. He's trying to note down your symptoms and figure out exactly what's wrong, giving you solutions that (surprise surprise) don't work. It would almost be sweet if you didn't know he saw you more as a puzzle to solve at this point.

The idea of chronic illnesses is like a challenge to this man, he's so annoying about it, constantly bothering you about your symptoms, asking you to chart your headaches, where you'd rate them on a scale of one to ten, etc., at this point, he's almost more of a headache than the headaches themselves.

Eventually though, he calms down a bit and starts being actually helpful. He's very observant, so he picks up on the common signals you give off when you've got a headache or a migraine coming on, even if you don't notice them yourself.

When he notices, he'll have someone wordlessly bring you a cool glass of water and your pain relief of choice, sometimes even offer to take over your more menial duties to remove some stress from you.

He takes careful note of what you do to help alleviate them and will replicate those actions, sometimes sternly ordering you around when you're continuing to try and push yourself further. Being of such a high rank, he's easily able to take advantage of it to give you a day or two off.

He'll usher you into a quiet, dark room with a nice cool temperature and a pile of blankets, making sure you're stocked up with plenty of water and your preferred brand of pain relief, while nattering away about what he thinks may be the root cause of your pain this time (as much as he tries to eliminate all potential causes, some still manage to slip through the cracks).

He's uncharacteristically tender with you when you're in pain, especially if he feels guilty for not noticing before it got as bad as it has. He's gentle and speaks in a soft, low voice that's both easy to understand and listen to even through the ringing in your ears.

Though he's used to how your symptoms manifest, it doesn't mean that he worries any less - he still checks up on you just a little too often, but he always tries extremely hard not to disturb you, especially if you decide to take a nap or have a lie down.

He makes sure you're extra stocked up with your favourite snacks, blankets and comfort items, and might even try to find you something simple to keep you entertained that isn't too much strain on your head if you get bored or restless (you're not sure where he got these colouring pages from, but they're well made!)

The amount of documentation he keeps on you is almost unnerving, there's enough there that, even when he's not around, there'll be someone who has been given a briefing and knows exactly what to do to help you.

Once you're feeling better, he scolds you if you overworked yourself or acted too stubborn, insisting that he's a doctor and you should listen to him.

Overall, he's a great person to have take care of you when you're not feeling a hundred percent. He's willing to field almost any request if it'll get you back up and feeling well again.

Please don't repost, steal, copy or otherwise plagarise my writing! This includes posting translations to other sites (without credit + permission).

#insert whatever spiel here about how i dont condone the acts of the character in canon i just enjoy him blah blah blah #sorry to the 7 ppl in my askbox i was gonna do stuff today but head hurty :/ #ill b better after a nap probably maybe #dottore #genshin dottore #dottore x reader #dottore x reader fluff #zandik #zandik x reader #zandik x reader fluff #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin self insert #my writing #genshin headcanons #genshin fluff #platonic genshin x reader #genshin comfort #x reader comfort #chronic headache series

[bonknigirlinthehood]

yingxing is way too hot >~< u have no idea how much hcs & fic ideas i have for him and his daughter (mostly angst ofc) ugh we need more old men in this game no way we only have him and welt 😔

I am the type of person who only scrolls through my Tumblr notifs for a split second, hereby I tend to miss a lot of asks in my inbox lol I'm sorry 😔

BUT YES YINGXING IS HOT (caps intended) like yes Blade is hot but Yingxing is just on a whole different level. Long White hair? Above 40? Has wrinkles? Has a divine (old men) body??? THAT is just the perfect recipe. I also have a lot of angsty scenarios involving Yx and his dotter (including Dan Feng) but sometimes i only have energy to create it in my head and cry myself to sleep. Though most of the time I think about Yingxing who one night got drunk, then he found someone who looks a lot like Dan Feng and they just sorta have a one night stand (listen if I were that person I won't even think twice if this old man were to fuck me) And then she just, got pregnant (duh). Maybe she wanted to tell Yingxing about it but she found out about his relationship with the high elder...and just backed off. Then only a few years after giving birth she passed away to illness and the commission found out the daughter belonged to Yingxing...

Now here's the catch, the daughter KNOWS Yingxing is her father, but she's been told that she should never bother him because well, he's a pretty famous person and she's just an illegitimate child.

Though eventually Baiheng finds out about it (after all who can miss a kid who looks like a carbon copy of child Yx, not in front of the person who raised him, at least) and she confronts Yingxing about it. This man obv doesn't remember, but he's willing to take responsibility. The problem is, his daughter seems very reluctant to live together with him, oftentimes just removing herself from any situation that has a lot of people involved.

But she loves making accessories!, Like, she definitely inherited Yingxing's dexterous hands because all the accessories she's been made are very beautiful. She is just very shy to show it to anyone😔.

Oh and another scenario about this is that on Yx birthday, his daughter wanted to gift him a hair accessory but he already got one that has his home planet flowers. She immediately felt discouraged and canceled the plan of giving the gift to him :( but don't worry Yingxing found out about it and wore the accessory.

#reddrambles #yingxing x reader #yingxing x child!reader #blade x daughter reader #blade x child!reader #yingxing x daughter reader

[klbwriting]

Our Strange Duet

Chapter 4 - Help From Hoping

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

Warnings: violence, blood

Summary: Jason goes on patrol, gets hurt, and shows up at YN's place, just like old times

Taglist: @deans-spinster-witch @amberpanda99

But still I can't help from hoping To find someone to talk to Who likes the way I am - Waitress

The Narrows was active tonight. Dick was off in Bludhaven, dealing with a gun running deal involving Two Face so Jason was on his own, patrolling the area on what was apparently, the busiest night for petty crime in history. He didn’t mind the downtime, and by downtime he meant punching some muggers, maybe cuffing a few of Maroni’s minions to a lamppost, but he was getting bored tonight, itching to go to YN’s place. He had hoped maybe around 1AM he could have checked on her, not waking her, just making sure her windows were secure. God out of context, and even when she had given him permission he sounded like a stalker. He might as well cuff himself to a lamppost. He got the drop on a drug sale to a couple of young-looking teens, approaching, making sure to look as scary as he could, moving the gun he carried so it glinted off a floodlight over the alley door of a nearby club. Scare the teens into not seeking out the drugs and the criminals into leaving the kids alone. The kids took off, but the drug dealer wasn’t exactly frightened. He laughed, producing a knife. Jason glared.

“Dealing to kids is pretty low, even for scum like you,” he said. He could see the dealer roll his eyes, not bothering with a retort. Jason fired, intending to injure the dealer, get him cuffed somewhere as well, but the guy moved, throwing his knife. It was well thrown, slicing through a weak spot on Jason’s arm, right where his protective shoulder padding met the armor on his arms there was gap and that’s where the pain lanced through him. He didn’t flinch, approaching the now dead body of the dealer. He knelt down, frowning at the sight. He hadn’t meant to kill this guy, not that he was heartbroken over it, but he was worried. It was a less than a minute fresh kill and yet the body was…melting, skin dripping, blood that was almost a purple color seeping from the wound. Jason reached to where he kept some evidence bags and collection devices on his belt, getting some skin samples and blood drops to take back to Dick. Something was weird about this body, and he didn’t want whatever it was to sneak up and bite them in the ass because he didn’t do his due diligence. He heard sirens nearby and took off.

He was climbing a fire escape, wanting to get to a rooftop to contact Dick when he felt the pain from the cut in his arm. O ya, that was still there. He winced and sighed, getting to a secluded spot and removing his helmet. He looked at the cut, seeing it took very red around the open wound. He couldn’t wait to get this taken care of or if would definitely get infected and he hated infected wounds. He was 13 the first time he got one and it had made him violently ill for a week and he never wanted that experience again. He put the helmet back on and took in his surroundings. There was a safehouse nearby, or there was YN’s place. It was an easy choice. He dropped by her window, the ledge barely enough room for him to fit, but he made do. He knocked and the light came on. Her face appeared, looking freshly awakened, but still alert. She saw him and opened it, letting him climb in. By the time he closed the window and curtains again she was back with a large first aid kit.

“Do you need help getting the gear off still or have you made that part easier?” she asked, and his heart stuttered. It was just like old times, she was ready to just help, no questions asked. He pulled off the helmet and she took it, setting it gently on her dresser. He moved to his arm, removing his armor there and then hitting a button on the back of his neck that had the chest and shoulder protection loosen. She grabbed the front, pulling it off him, quietly working like this happened every night. She did have to help with his shirt, getting it over his head.

“Maybe could have just cut off the sleeve…” Jason said but quieted when he saw her looking at him, her eyes crawling slowly over his skin, taking in ever muscle, freckle, and scar. He smirked a moment, glad he still could get this reaction from her, then he blushed as he thought about her, what she would look like, feel like, so many things he normally only let himself think about when he was alone.

“Get on the bed Jason,” she said, and he startled for a second, blanking on why she was asking him to do that and then thinking of about one thousand things to do in that bed with her. “Be easier to stitch up your arm if you’re laying down. He turned a shade of red he didn’t know existed and laid down, letting her angle his arm on a towel so that she could get a better look at it. “I took some low level EMT classes over the summer in case I ever met up with you again…”

“So that’s why you have a first aid kit the size of a dishwasher,” he said, grunting a little as she disinfected his wound. She chuckled before shaking her head and getting the needle and thread ready.

“No, I bought that the day after we started talking again, knew it was a matter of time before you showed up bloody at my window,” she said, starting to stitch him. “So, what was it tonight? Assassins? Mutants? Rogue nun?”

“You’d be surprised that nuns are very violent,” he said. “But no, a drug dealer. He was selling to some kids, I was going to shoot his shoulder, injure him so I could cuff him somewhere for the cops, but he threw a knife at me, ended up killing him. Then he melted…” The needle stilled for just a moment, but Jason noticed.

“Melted?” she asked, waiting a second too long. He frowned, side eyeing her as she tied off the stitches, putting everything away to be cleaned before bandaging his arm. She moved to put things away, but he grabbed her hand. He was ignoring the question gnawing at his brain now.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “I know I can’t just drop in like this anymore, I’m not your boyfriend or anything…”

“Jason, you’re my forever, you never have to ask to come here, I will never shut you out,” she said, looking at him. “Boyfriend, friend, whatever, you can always come to me.” He nodded, swallowing hard.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “Um, so before, you paused…”

“The melted people thing?” she said quickly. He nodded. “I just know that Maroni is probably involved, and it makes my skin crawl. The only thing I really know that he told me in the brief time I was speaking with him, was that he had something new that he was going to implement, something to make sure his drugs were able to be the only pills people wanted. I’m not sure what it is or how it works though.” He nodded, sitting up more as she sat down on the bed next to him.

“Thank you for the information, I’ll talk to Dick about that later,” he said. She reached out, brushing hair behind her ear and she leaned into the touch before catching his hand and holding it.

“I wanted to talk to you about something, can you stay for a little bit?” she asked. He nodded. The city could be burning, and he would take a few minutes for her, no matter what his vigilante drive told him, if she needed him, he was going to be there. She got up, grabbing some papers from her desk, sitting down again, showing them to him. “I wanted to find the mysterious donor to thank them for trying to help my mother and for setting me up back here in Gotham. Be honest with me, did you or Dick do this? Is this corporation that is listed at the official ‘donor’ one of yours?” she asked. Jason took the paperwork, looking at the bank statement and then the letter. His eyes caught on the name of the company, Plostast Holdings and his heart stopped. ‘The last stop Jason, where you were when I found you, and the place you’ll be when you are old enough to be a Wayne and not just a Robin’ Bruce had said, laughing at his own lame anagram. Plostast was where Jason would be able to make a name for himself, turning the company into whatever he wanted, something for after Robin so he could keep helping people. Jason’s vision was tunneling, and he felt himself falling.

“Jason? Jason!” YN was calling. He moaned softly, eyes opening. She was over him, staring down at him, worry creasing her forehead. “Are you ok?” He must have passed out. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know that you would react like that.” She helped him sit up again, feeling his face and looking into his eyes, making sure he was all back. He could feel he was sweating; his head was aching at the moment.

“Do you have any pain pills?” he asked, he needed something, or he wasn’t going to be able to focus on getting back home. She nodded and reached into her kit again, getting some headache meds and giving him water. He took them and drank the glass, trying to organize his thoughts. “Bruce…that’s who the donor was,” he said finally. Her eyes widened.

“Why? Why would he do any of that? Have you talked to him?” she asked, already knowing that he hadn’t. He shook his head again. “Why would he help and not talk to you about it?”

“I don’t know, not like he cares about me at all,” he said, fists clenching. He felt her hand on his cheek, turning him to look at her again. “Green?” he asked. She nodded. He tried to will away the anger and rage that came to him at the thought of Bruce out there, butting into Jason’s life but not coming to him directly. Why do it this way? To draw him out?

“I will go to Bruce, talk to him. I will make sure he knows I will pay him back; I don’t want any of his money, not when it should be spent on you,” she said. Jason leaned to her, his head falling to her shoulder. “He doesn’t get to abandon you and then try to buy me. If I had known…”

“You would have taken the money anyways,” he said softly. YN turned to look at him, almost offended. “I would have forced you too, to go and help your mom. I know the treatment didn’t work but at the time it was hope and you needed it and I would do anything for you, including telling you to take Bruce Wayne’s money.” She smiled softly, looking at him. He looked at her and he wasn’t sure when the moment shifted. One second, he was looking at her, glad for her to be there with him and the next he needed to kiss her, for her to know that he still loved her, that he still wanted to be hers. She must have felt the same because in an instant their lips met and she was holding him, one hand in his hair, the other on his back, his arms around her waist, pulling her to him. He wasn’t sure how long they kissed, going from deep and passionate to soft, little kisses traded over several minutes of just smiling and whispering to each other. He barely noticed when the sun started to peek into the room.

“You need to get home, Dick will be worried,” she said softly. He nodded, looking at her, a question on his face. “I won’t be kissing anyone else if you’re worried about that, who could I possibly kiss that would live up to Jason ‘Red Hood’ Todd?” Jason smiled and nodded, pulling his shirt back on and getting his gear back on again. She went, grabbing the helmet from the dresser. She kissed him again before he put the helmet back on and headed out the window. The morning was bittersweet, mixing the feeling of getting what he wanted, YN back into his arms, with the confusion of Bruce. He didn’t know how he felt, but he needed answers.

#jason todd #jasontodd #red hood #redhood #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #strangeduet

[xamaxenta]

Ghostbusters au but its not at all in which ASL are a small freelance group of childhood friends who bandrd together to create a silly little pest control group their marketing strategy was theyre pros, theres nothing they can’t remove

Until they get the order that someones grandmother is haunted by rhe vengeful family guardian angel and they need a group that isnt godfearing but also come cheap

Sabo’s mad that theyre charging by the job and not hourly but Ace and luffy dont seem to be bothered by this

They brainstorm like what do we do about this, a corrupt guardian angel isnt exactly your typical household pest

Sabo whos godloathing personally is like i guess we just shoo it on out with a broom

Ace: vengeful bro

sabo: :/

Sabo: my original plan was guns then but i was worried youd be upset about that

Ace: my license hasnt expired

Luffy; mine did

Ace: fuckssake everyone gets a gun but luffy

Sabo: hes a better shot than u triggerhappy

Luffy:

Ace: fine ill just beat the feathery bastard up with my bare hands then

So he does

They get paid monumentally well and they eventually open up a proper monster and the supernaturals who have overstayed removal services lol

[monsterqueers]

Ok so I love all the tick awareness posts going around, but a lot of the advice is not feasible for everyone.

As someone who lives in a tick hotspot and works in the woods outside, ticks (and other biting insects) are a very normal and unavoidable part of life for some people.

For people who live like me and cannot simply do pitch perfect doctor recommended things always all the time, here is some harm reduction-esque advice;

Pants and lighter clothes are a great idea. They make ticks easier to spot and make them work harder to bite you. They aren't required, but they are useful.

Insect repellent does work. Use some on your lower legs/pants if its available. Its not as effective on ticks as it is on mosquitos, but it can help. Some repellents are great on ticks but not so much other bugs. Ive had luck with the usual 'off' brand name spray and a spray called cedarcide. Cedarcide did better than off for me, but it has a VERY strong nausea-inducing scent that not everyone can handle and you shouldn't go through wetlands with it on your boots. This isn't a rec just a report, do your own research, etc etc.

Avoid tall grass and brush, this often has ticks. They do not drop down from trees. If you avoid places ticks are likely to be it can help. Yes fuck lawn culture but theres a good reason some places mow the places people walk- less ticks. Consider doing that maybe.

Check for ticks periodically while outside, and do a more through check when you come inside. Hotspots are around the crotch, armpits, ankles, anywhere under clothes, any other 'folded over' parts of your body, and the scalp, but feel over as much of your body as you can. Changing out of your clothes when you are done being outside for the day is recommended.

Sometimes ticks manage to bite you. This is not the end of the world. Just get them off ASAP by pulling them off from the head. Don't do a twisting motion, just pull from as close to the skin as possible. Don't burn them off, pull them off still alive, THEN burn them or whathaveyou. Tweezers or the tick removers help but aren't strictly necessary. If its been on for less than 24 hours you are probably fine and don't really need to bother keeping the tick in most cases.

Treat tick bites with your preferred itch reducer if you want (calamine lotion, hydrocortisone, etc) and maybe some rubbing alcohol or other antiseptic if you're worried about infection. Watch the bite and your general state of being for a bit (~2 weeks) after.

A red raised bump from the bite is normal. Some people (hi!) react strongly to all insect bites and get inflamed and itchy at the site for days no matter what. This only becomes notable if the rash spreads strongly, makes a bull's eye shape, you exhibit other symptoms associated with tick borne illnesses or allergic reactions, or it seems to have become seriously infected. This is when you really want a doctor.

If you exhibit tick born illness symptoms, its also not the end of the world. Get to a doctor asap though- fast treatment is key. If you live in a high-risk state for certain diseases, better safe than sorry.

Tick bites happen, you usually don't need to panic about them. Keep an eye out and avoid them where possible, but if you can't just keep an eye out for symptoms and remove them asap.

#tick safety #tick season #rebloggable ig #long post #pls only add to this post if youre also a backwoods hick giving backwoods hick applicable advice #wayward rambling

[mikeyelistsukasa]

Hi! I like the way that you write it’s very unique I don’t want to bother you but could I get Headcanons of Tsukasa Yugi and karma Akabane(I know there from different fandoms please don’t be mad at me you could just write for Tsukasa if you wanted) with a shy and timid s/o who worries a lot and hides behind them doesn’t have any friends but likes to just be by their side most of the time and clings to them? People mainly just Please and thank you bye!

Woopdiedoo dont worry you can send from different animes request! I just started today so i didnt had time to make everyone a banner for other requests but i had enough time to make a karma one 3rd request lets gooo!

Tsukasa and Karma with a shy and timid Darling

Man i feel sorry for ya. First he is a tease and second he loves danger

Suprise hugsLots lotsOFsuprise hugs…

As savage as it sounds he is glad that you don’t have any friends because no friends = more time with tsukasa <3

He better not see or hear anyone picking up on you because of your shyness

He would definitely let you come with him on some dangerous missions but you are only allowed to watch.

Don’t get him wrong he believes in his strength but he’d still prefer his darling to be away from danger

He finds it cute every time you you look up and down checking for injuries on him asking him if he’s hurt. Though a small part of him is also a bit offended like- did you really think some stupid bird would be able to harm him???

Kisses ur cheek and hugs you to reassure your shaking body that he is fine

You two end up hugging eachother in that position for some hours until his darlings bell rings.

Guess its time to tease someone on their lessons~

Small oneshot

You were running away from your bullies into the broadcasting room but you being clumsy tripped and of course the kicking ass and getting called names started.after they left you entered the broadcasting room and ran to tsukasa just to end up hiding behind his back,he was about to say something like you being a chicken for probably seeing a spider in the hallway or something.that is until he took a good glance at your trembling body. You had some cuts and your uniform is all dirty and ripped. He kneels down with you and removes your hands from your face just to see you all teared up with a bleeding nose. His eyes turned pitch black and after he says „darling s/o…who did this to you?…“ you knew that this is the last day your bullies will live a normal life

Another teaser who is also into danger

He would just squish your cheeks and tell you the most embarrassing things to fluster you

Now he actually enjoys the thought you having no friends but thats just impossible. Not when there is someone who is a sunshine like nagisa who befriends everyone.

As much as he wants all your attention to himself he would eventually encourage you to make new friends in case he needs to leave and he doesn’t want you to be lonely.

Also protective if you have bullies

Checks up on you every time the class has to train (physically)

He knows you’re not the type to fight thats why he makes silly deals with you to motivate and encourage you like „hey darling how about this.if you will be able to finnish swimming this round then ill take you in a fancy date? My treat!“

Overall loves his shy darling

Small oneshot

You were on your way to your boyfriend karma because you promised to meet up after school sadly you stumbled on your bullies on your way to him. You tried to run back into a different direction but it was too late.they have already noticed you.so after they had their fun with you,you go to your way to karma..AGAIN. He was about to greet you and say something about you being late that is until he noticed your shaking body. You quickly ran to karma for a hug. He doesn’t like to admit it but he was getting worried there on what the hell happened “darling? Hey its ok its ok…what happened?” After 100 times of trying through your sobs you were able to tell him what happened. God the look on his face when he heard you say this. You kinda pray he won’t kill them.”alright lets get you bandaged up while you tell me every SCUMBAGS name that did this to you mkay?~”

Thank you for requesting! I have accidentally fallen asleep when writing this thats why it took a bit longer. Hope i could still please you! Please visit again!<3

#karma x reader #karma akabane #assassination classroom #tbhk hanako #hanako x reader #amane x reader #x reader #jshk x reader

[300yearschallenge]

In the winter of 1774, close to New Year's Eve and with the snow thick on the ground - Britta fell ill with smallpox.

Théo came as soon as she heard.

"How is she?" She said, pulling her twin into a warm hug.

"Stable, for now," he said, "But I'm so worried."

Théo knew all too well what if felt like to have a spouse fall ill not too long into a marriage, and knew that her family would need all the help they could get at this time.

Her parents were past their 50s and baby Teresa was still very young, someone needed to help relieve the family so they didn't all run themselves into the ground.

The family had moved Britta into Ulf and Inés' bed, since that room had more windows and could let in more air for her.

"Mum's in there with her right now," 'Tine said, "Let's go check on them."

Once 'Tine was by Britta's side, gently comforting her, Inés and Ulf asked to speak with Théo in the kitchen.

"We haven't told 'Tine this," Ulf said, "But we're very worried for her."

"She's practically burning up," Inés said.

Théo took a deep breath to steel herself.

"She might still make it," she said, "We'll just have to treat her as best as we can. Others have survived the illness, perhaps she can too."

For almost a week Britta was somewhat stable. She was still dreadfully ill, but she didn't get any worse.

The family worked in shifts to care for her, the farm and for little baby Teresa.

But then one morning when Théo came over she saw the look on Ulf's face and she knew straight away.

Britta had passed away.

She didn't bother to remove the heavy layers of damp outerwear as she rushed to 'Tine.

He was sat perfectly silent on what had been his and Britta's marital bed.

.

.

Rest in peace Britta Olafsson née de Monet

1746 - 1774

Mother to: Teresa Olafsson

#300 years challenge #sims 4 decades #sims 4 legacy #sims 4 historical #olafssons #gen 3 #ts4 decades #ts4 historical #ts4 legacy #simblr #théodora olafsson #constantine olafsson #ulf olafsson #inés olafsson #britta olafsson

[matrose]

Wait but I wanna hear the unpopular (but correct) opinions about LotR! (No worries if you genuinely don't want to share!)

hi anon!! 😙 thank you for asking 💐🌷💕☺️SADLY most of my opinions are just a response to some take i saw on my pinterest explore page that i personally didnt agree with… im gonna put it under the cut so if this ends up in any tag i wont spam anyone bc its not like different interpretations of characters/text do any harm etc etc its gonna be a long, incoherent rant, without any formatting since im on mobile, so, um watch out :,) also please dont reblog

i really really dislike what feels like majority of the interpretation of the legolas/gimli relationship, like the way people portray them is sooo weird…the constant mutual antagonizing and the focus on bickering!!!! its another movie adaptation thing, because those removed most, if not all tenderness from them (the miniscule gay budget got used up for sam & frodo i guess). the appeal of gimli and legolas is not that they bicker the appeal is that they love eachother so much despite the general tensions between their peoples (although im not a fan of those tensions being overplayed for dramatics) and despite erus prophecy that there would always be conflict between elves and dwarves!!!!!!!!!!

i dislike the common fanon/movie portrayal of gimli but i think ive actually talked enough about that so im gonna talk about legolas because i also disagree with the common interpretations his character seems to find, although it doesnt bother me as much as with gimli, mostly because people still think hes cool. ANYWAYS! i think painting legolas as super hair- and beauty-obsessed (to the point of it bordering on homophobia) was luckily mostly left in the past, though pinterest still bombards me with bad memes, but i still really hate it 😒 another common thing ive seen, thats also more current, is legolas as an idiot who eats bugs or whatever which IS more fun than the first one and also closer to his book-self but i still dislike it simply because i hate when a happy/optimistic character gets headcanoned as being stupid…its unappealing and boring and i dont think its implied anywhere that legolas is exceptionally dumb :( i do like weird kid legolas a lot though hes special to me <3.

anyways since were on the topic of legolas lets talk about his family since thats another fandom/HOBBIT MOVIES favorite to distort! legolas mother is very very likely a silvan elf and very likely not dead in my opinion . i personally think silvan elves are neutral/if not positively inclined towards dwarves 👍 dont like the common fanon of extreme hatred that was taught to legolas by his parents and also dont dont dont like fanon thranduil & everything the hobbit movies made him out to be!!!!!!! i dont doubt that thranduil had some ill will towards dwarves since the whole thingol slaying and doriath thing… but thranduil is canonically a very good king and very kind, and i dont think he would let a grudge against a specific dwarf clan define his relations to a neighbouring kingdom that doesnt even belong to the same clan!!! someone who kept his kingdom save and out of trouble for so long and also has the closest relations to their neighbouring kingdom of men out of all the elven realms would be better than that and atleast be neutral and not hostile sorry this wasnt meant to be about the hobbit movies but i could go ON a out them i cant see legolas in those without laughing at him dear god. the implication that legolas, who supposedly hated dwarves, shared a horse with gimli and then was a changed man is very funny though.

also, since im going off on a tangent anyways, i think mîm didnt do anything wrong and also thingol and the dwarven smiths were both at fault for the conflict. sorry for the dwarf bias but someone has to be on their side because i still see too many people hating on them

back to lotr: i think blond blue eyed legolas is boring, i hate what they did to elrond and boromir in the movies, i think saruman and sauron being basically brothers is a very funny interpretation that we should talk about more and i hateee almost all modern lotr aus because its hars to replicaze into modern world and also aragorn would NOT be a CEO!!!!!!!!!! a good king in tolkienverse is benevolent and puts his subjects first and he is a healer. (and this idolized king figure is, of course, not historically accurate) a CEO IS NOT THE MODERN EQUIVALENT TO THAT!!!!!!! modern aragorn either sells weed, is a nurse, or a mailman more i will not say on this matter. also i hate when modern aus cut everyones hair/beard. stop!!!!!! this reminds me of the one time i saw like a college au on pinterest and it was like. gimli and legolas are forced to be roommates and legolas is disgusted by gimli being sooo dirty… HELLO? you people exhaust me………… restraining myself to go on another gimli tirade because i feel like ive done that so much and all my followers will know whats up you guys get me right yeah yeah yeah

oh about legolas and gimli/mirkwood and erebor again, sorry im a one trick pony, i think that both thranduil & unnamed wife as well as gloin & unnamed wife love their kids too much to truly oppose them being together. gloin may be hotheaded but hes not stubborn enough to not ever back down, see the council of elrond: hes mad, rightfully so, to find out that a servant of mordor was apprentely treated better as a prisoner than thorin & company but seeing as the responsible party, thranduil, is not even there, and how theres very important business to discuss he quickly backs down and even bows to legolas as an apology!!!!

[„You were less tender to me,“ said Glóin with a flash of his eyes, as old memories were stirred of his imprisonment in the deep places of the Elven-king’s halls. „Now come!“ said Gandalf. „Pray, do not interrupt, my good Glóin. That was a regrettable misunderstanding, long set right. If all the grievances that stand between Elves and Dwarves are to be brought up here, we may as well abandon this Council.“ Glóin rose and bowed, and Legolas continued.]

i tried to find out if we know how long exactly the dwarves were imprisoned, and it seems it was about 20 days, while gollum was there for around 90 days, so perhaps they would have let the dwarves get some fresh hair eventually as well . not that gloin wasnt rightfully angry, he was! and still very gracious about it . love gloin hes great

also TRUE unpopular opinion incoming: im neutral on sam/frodo…its cute yes but i dont have any big thoughts about them and i think sam and rosie are very sweet :^) but also i dont trust people who completely dislike it esp cishets…. legolas and gimli are basically canon to me like they did that. okay ready for another TRUE AND REAL unpopular opinion. i think faramir is kind of boring and i dont care much for him, sorry ❤️‍🩹

ok i think im done for now!!! phew!! anon thank you again because this helped me pass like an hour of my very long train ride!!!! <3333

#im open to discussion though and would love to hesr everyones opinions…. #ITS SO LONG IM SORRY

[tarnishedxknight]

{out of dalmasca} I'm so sad I could cry, guys, honestly. I wanted so badly to be here, I was so excited, I wanted to write so much. I had the time, my students aren't bothering me at all, everything was good. And the night started off well, I was writing, I was living the dream... and then I ended up having a bit of a medical issue (explanation below the cut)... and I just really cannot write right now. It's already 5AM, and I was hoping I could come back, but at this point I need to sleep. I can't believe this, it's really just not fair.

I'm... I'm really sorry. Increasingly it's just one thing after another that prevents me from being on this site to write and frankly I'm getting so frustrated by it. I will try again tomorrow to be here, although my students have things due, so... *sigh* Or, I guess if this ends up escalating and I end up having to go to the hospital, I'll let everyone know. I'm at a loss and like I said, I'm just very sad and exhausted right now. Hopefully I can be here on Friday and get lots of writing done because I want to so badly. Thank you all for understanding, you guys are great and I love you all.

Okay, so... I really don't like to post a lot of personal drama, especially medical things because I know people are bothered by them and I understand, but this is something that keeps recurring and eventually I'll have to explain, and when I might be on my way to the hospital is not the time to write out a big long explanation, so here it comes now, heh.

I've been having these intense pain attacks for about a year now, after having been diagnosed with gall stones. They come without any warning, usually late at night. It's like... being stabbed in my right side and straight through my chest and out my back. Usually they stop after about two hours, my last one lasted a little over an hour, but this one... I'm at 3 hours and counting right now. Not only is the pain so bad that I can barely think, but the anxiety that comes along with it is intense. So I'm having all this pain and then panicking on top of it, which... is such a help. Does anyone else have a mind/body that thinks it's helping by giving you more problems on top of what you already have? Yeah, me too.

The upshot of all of this is that I have been advised that I may need to have my gallbladder removed. I'm trying to avoid that, because I'm on immunosuppressants for rheumatoid arthritis (won that disease lottery when I was only two), and any kind of surgery on the meds I'm on, even minor, could increase my risk of complications, infection, etc. Plus going to the hospital... you're exposed to any number of other illnesses, which is not good for someone whose immune system is suppressed. But honestly, these attacks are getting so bad, and more frequent, that I may not have a choice.

I have made an appt. with my doctor to discuss my symptoms and options, but it's in about three weeks (the earliest appt. they could give me, since they don't consider this an emergency), so I have to just ride things out until then. Or... there is a possibility that things could really escalate and I might have to go to the hospital. I have a list of symptoms to watch for in case that happens, and so far tonight I don't have any of the most major ones, so I'm okay for now.

And that's... where I'm at. I'm literally sitting here watching Thinknoodles play Minecraft on Pluto TV to try and distract myself from the pain (it's an episode I've already seen, so that's... thanks, universe), hoping it eases so I can get some damn sleep. Send good vibes.

I'm really sorry if this upset anyone or worried any of you, but I don't like to be vague and seem like I'm trying to just gain attention or something, so I wanted to be honest.

#{ out of dalmasca } ᵒᵒᶜ #{i just want to be healthy and normal} #{is that too much to ask} #{chronic illnesses have always been a part of my life} #{but this is ridiculous} #{i'm sitting here staring at all these amazing drafts and asks} #{making grabby hands} #{but my brain is in panic mode} #{guys i'm trying so hard and life keeps kicking me in the paaaants} #{for the record i am in fuzzy Minions pants... not that you needed to know lol}

[sucuretcannelle]

FUCK IT I WANT MORE ❗️❗️ this totally isn't an invitation for you to send me more btw

11, 14, and 15 for Ai

33, 38, and 39 for Nash

HUZZAH‼️

Tw: This first one is kinda gross but nothing I haven't talked about

Ai knew she always lived in danger. Not always in fear, but in danger. The only reason she realized that was due to the pain that coursed through her body every time she received a punishment. However, her worst memories of fear weren't of the harm that was inflicted on herself, but the harm that she witnessed with other people. If someone were to ask her what her worst memory was, the first thing that she would think of would probably be when her father dumped acid on her mother. Ai at least enjoys the feeling of making herself feel useful before or after a punishment as it was the only thing she could ever do to tend to her mental reward system. Watching her mother's face sizzle and melt right in front of her made her feel useless. She knew she couldn't do anything and yet she still can't forgive herself for it. Having to clean bits and pieces of flesh and muscles on the floor made her feel so sick. Not because of the content, but because they didn't belong to her.

Ai has selective memory. It's the trauma response that bothers her the most. Having a job where she has to remember things quickly doesn't sit well with her knowing that she'll constantly have slip ups if she doesn't have people to remember things for her. She's very bad at remembering faces, it's all a blur to her. Faces just look all the same to her, sometimes she'll mix and match facial features with other people to the point where her descriptions look like a whole different person. Voices stick more often.

Ai doesn't care for money at all. It comes to her easily so she never really has to worry about it. With the war, she has to be more careful, but she's never really greedy or anything. Material possessions however? She doesn't play with those. She knows when things have gone missing even if she wasn't there when they were taken. She isn't always seeking new things, but when things come into her possession, they aren't leaving.

Nash gets extremely defensive and irrational in the face of criticism. One would think that he fucking lost his mind when he gets criticized. He doesn't really care about the small things, but with the things that he puts a bunch of effort in, he "refuses to take any shit." He'd yell insult after insult, land punch after punch until they take whatever they said back, even if it was out of good intentions. He refused to let his pride waver in the face of criticism, are you kidding? But after a while, he does learn from it and the guilt hangs onto him like a heavy chain that only slows him down more and more over time.

Nash is more likely to remove a problem than remove himself from a problem. This man literally fought Lucifer as a mortal, he's more than willing to fight people who are stronger than him. But in all truth, he's more scared of being called a coward than anything else, so he'll take whatever comes to him just to get away from that title.

Nash has been bitten by too many animals in his lifetime. All sorts of different effects came from them, most being extreme illness. Siran is sick of seeing him in his office.

[diegodog2002]

Grant Part IV

Patrick awoke in the morning, still on the floor.  He had no recollection of what happened the previous night.  All he really remembered was going to the party and drinking a lot.  When he sat up, his head began to throb.  The hangover was beginning to kick in.  It was then that he realized he was naked with the exception of the boots that went with his leather outfit.  He looked around the room and did not see his leathers, but he did see some white fabric in a heap on the floor.  Gently he got up and went over to the heap.  When he picked it up he realized it was Grant’s toga, but all shredded up.  He carried it into the bedroom and dropped it on the bed.  Patrick removed his boots and put on a pair of his ill-fitting briefs before he continued looking for his leathers.  After searching the whole apartment and finally coming to the conclusion they were not there, Patrick went to the kitchen to make some coffee and breakfast.  He had no recollection of coffee being made last night, or why there was coffee even made.

While brewing a fresh pot of coffee, the doorbell rang.   Patrick asked “who’s there?” The return was the friendly familiar voice of Grant.  Patrick immediately opened the door.   “Am I glad to see you.”  Patrick said with a worried lilt to his voice.   “What’s up?” Grant asked.   Just then the alert on the coffee maker went off indicating the coffee was done.  By now, Patrick had completely forgotten he was only wearing his briefs. When he finally did realize it, he apologized and told Grant he would be right back.  Grant told him that he did not need to get dressed on his account. He was not bothered by Patrick in his briefs. Patrick offered Grant a cup of coffee.   “What happened last night?”  Patrick asked. “What do you mean?”  Grant said.   Being coy and wanting to see what Patrick remembered.  Patrick told Grant what he remembered.  Grant told him the events of the evening.  Patrick was mortified. “How can I face any of my neighbors, or other residents in the other buildings?”  Patrick cried out.   He kept telling Grant he did not remember any of it.  

While Grant was relating the events of the previous evening and they were drinking coffee, the doorbell rang again.  Grant asked Patrick if he wanted him to get it, especially since he was not really dressed to answer the door.  Patrick said yes.  When Grant opened the door, it was a deliveryman with a certified letter for Patrick.  Grant signed for it and gave the letter to Patrick.  Patrick read the letter and told Grant that he had just received awful news from his business partners.  It seems that his financial backers could not come up with the capital needed for the project he was working on.  Grant listened intently, knowing this was Patrick’s scheme and he was looking for a new mark.  When Patrick finished weaving his tale, Grant told him that he might know of someone who would be interested in being his backer in this.  Patrick’s eyes lit up.  His scheme was working, or so he thought.  Grant asked Patrick for his phone number so that the investor could call him to discuss the investment and see if he were interested.  Grant warned Patrick that the investor is very eccentric.    

As Patrick was jotting down his phone number, the doorbell rang again.  Grant went to the door to answer it.  This time it was Rich.   “Good morning Mr. Parker.”  Grant said “Good morning Mr. Walker.”  Rich replied, both giving each other a wink.   “Isn’t this Patrick Fitzgerald’s apartment? Is Mr. Fitzgerald in?”  Rich asked.   Grant motioned for Rich to enter.  Rich was in the living room when Patrick stepped in. Rich had a paper bag in his hand. “I believe these belong to you.”  Rich said coolly and handed Patrick the bag.   Patrick looked in the bag to see that it was his leather outfit all balled up and shoved into the bag.   “Next time you plan on putting on a show like that, do us all a favor, and don’t!”  Rich said.   He quickly turned and left. Patrick pulled his outfit out of the bag and shook his head.   “I can’t believe this happened to my leathers.” Patrick said as he looked at the ripped open eyelet holes.   He let the pieces of leather spill out of the bag onto the floor.  He found his leather briefs and asked Grant if he knew how they got ripped.  Grant lied and told him that he had done it himself. He told Patrick that he had yanked them off himself.  Patrick picked up the pieces and put them back in the bag.   “Well, these are trash now.”   Patrick said.   “What’s up with you and Mr. Parker?” Grant asked.  “Last night when I introduced you to him, it was a very uncomfortable introduction, and then again this morning it was like he did not like you.” Patrick quickly made up a story that Rich did not want to wait for an investment to come due and wanted his money back.  He was unhappy when everyone got huge profits from the investment, and he got nothing. Grant told Patrick to take care of his hangover, and he would talk to him soon.  

Patrick had a meeting setup with someone he hoped would invest in one of his schemes.  They met up at a very popular pub.  Patrick did not know why this investor (sucker) wanted to meet there, because the place had a reputation for being rowdy and loud.  Grant was walking home and saw Patrick enter the pub.  He decided to see what Patrick was up to. Grant snuck into the pub with a group of strangers and hid from Patrick’s view.  He found a table in the shadows of the back of the pub and watched. Patrick and his investor (sucker) sat down at a table that had high barstools around it.  When Patrick sat down and straddled the barstool he heard, RRRIIIPPP, he tore his pants.  Patrick ran his hand around to his butt and just said “fuck.”  He knew he had torn his pants very badly.  When he looked down at his crotch, he saw the zipper had also torn out and his underwear was showing.  He quickly tried to hide his underwear from showing by placing his hands over his crotch.  Patrick promptly excused himself and went to the Men’s room.  He went into one of the stalls and took his pants off to see how bad the backside was ripped.  He could not believe it.  The seam of his pants was still intact, but the fabric had torn and shredded in multiple places.  Even if he did have a sewing kit, he would not be able to sew them back up.  He put them back on and waited to exit.  Patrick stood at the doorway of the Men’s room for a while trying to figure out how to get out of the pub without being seen and noticed by his investor (sucker)  or the other pub patrons.  He saw his opportunity, there was a lull in the crowd and a path to the exit had opened up. Patrick followed the path he had eyed out.  The path led him right by Grant’s table.  As he walked by Grant, Grant stretched his arm out and grasped the torn material in the back of Patrick’s pants.  He pulled on the pants.  RRRIIIPPP, Patrick’s pants tore the rest of the way up his backside and through the waistband and down his legs.  Patrick did not even look to see who had done this.  He knew his pants had been torn apart.  Patrick’s pants fell to his ankles.  He just stood there in a pair of boys over stretched underroos.   They were a pair of red and blue briefs, with images of superman in action on the panels.  One front side panel had superman’s face on it, while the other front side panel had the Superman logo on it.  The fly section was superman hulking out of some chains.  Patrick’s cock and balls were barely contained within the briefs.  The back panel of the briefs had superman in the middle and he was beating up a couple of bad guys.  The waist band was emblazoned with ‘Man of Steel’.    

When he realized what had happened, he tried to run out, but tripped on his pants and fell flat on his face.  One of the pub patrons thought he would help Patrick, and pulled his pants off him.  While he was pulling them off, Patrick’s pants got tangled up in his shoes. RRRIIIPPP, his pants were completely torn apart.  Patrick stood up totally embarrassed.  He kept trying to cover his superman underoos with his hands and get out of the pub. Everyone started laughing and pointing at him.  The lights were turned up bright so that everyone could see him and his underoos. Patrick looked for his investor (sucker) and saw him leaving the pub.  When he tried to get to the exit, his path was blocked and he was pushed back in the pub.  A hand grabbed Patrick’s arse, and he jumped.  Then another hand did the same.  Someone pulled on Patrick’s shirt as he was trying to escape.  All they managed to do was tear his shirt.  Suddenly, everyone started pulling on his shirt.  His shirt was ripping and tearing all over.  Someone pulled the back of his shirt.  All the buttons tore off his shirt and his chest was exposed.  Patrick was now doubly embarrassed.  Not only was he wearing embarrassing boy’s underoos, but he had both his pierced nipple rings on, with a chain connecting them.  The chain also went down his chest and disappeared into the front of his underoos. Everyone around him grabbed at his shirt.  RRRIIIPPP, they tore his shirt to shreds.  They tweaked his nipples and pulled on the chain.  Without wanting it, his nipples became even more erect and hard. Patrick tried to push his way through the crowd, but he could not get very far.  Someone hooked their fingers into the bottom of his Underoo’s and pulled. They began to tear.  Patrick tried not to move, and swat the hands away, but it was too late.  His superman Underoo’s were ripping.  He felt a hand cup his cock and balls and another hand was feeling up his arse, probing for his manhole.  He began getting an erection.  Now he had to alternate trying to cover his nipples, keep his Underoo’s from being completely torn off, and cover his erection.  It was a losing proposition.  Someone yelled out, “Hey, let’s see where that chain goes!”  That was all it took.  All the strangers’ hands began to tug and pull at Patrick’s Underoo’s.  Superman was stretched and pulled to his limits, before RRRIIIPPP.  They tore apart.  For Patrick, it was like a movie in slow motion.  He looked down to see the front of his underpants being ripped up to the waistband.  The superman logo and Superman’s face were torn in half.  Then someone had taken hold of the fly opening and pulled it sideways. Patrick watched as the thin material covering his erect cock was torn and wrenched away.  Someone else pulled the other side of the fly opening in the opposite direction.  Patrick’s cock shot out of the torn Underoo’s.  At almost the same moment, his underwear was pulled back.  The waistband pulled, and tore away, along with whatever was left of his superman Underoo’s.  It was now revealed that the chain running down Patrick’s chest was connected to a leather dog collar-like cock ring.  Patrick’s cock was now fully erect from having his nipples tweaked, and the chain pulled on his cock ring.  

Horny, humiliated and embarrassed, Patrick put his head down and charged through the crowd and out the door.  The only problem was, he ended up head-butting a police officer who was trying to get into the pub.  The police had been notified of a disturbance at the pub and were investigating it. Patrick was put into the officer’s vehicle.  While in the vehicle his cell phone, keys, and wallet were returned to him.  The police told him to call someone and get him; otherwise they were going to arrest him.  The police gave Patrick a towel to put around himself.  Patrick��s mind went blank.  He could not remember anyone’s name or phone number.  He looked at the last number on his cell phone and just called it.  The number belonged to Grant.  When Grant saw Patrick’s number on his caller id, he panicked.  Had Patrick seen him in the pub?   He told Grant he needed help and called the last number on his phone.  Grant exited the pub through a rear exit and ran home to get his car.  He drove back to the pub to pick Patrick up.  Grant parked next to the police vehicle so that Patrick could slip out of the police vehicle and into his.  When Patrick slid into Grant’s car, his towel opened up. Grant really got a good look at Patrick’s nipple piercings and chain connected to his cock ring.  Patrick started telling Grant what had happened at the pub.  Even though Grant knew what happened, he listened intently and asked questions, to which he knew the answers.  Patrick did not mention he was wearing Underoo’s.  He said they tore off his black briefs.  All the while Patrick was telling what had happened Grant noticed Patrick was getting an erection again.  

The drive back to their apartments was a short one. Grant drove to his underground parking space and parked the car.  He looked at Patrick who was busy pulling on the chains of his nipple rings. Patrick’s erect cock was pulsating up and down.  Grant wrapped his hand around Patrick’s cock and began to jerk him off.  Patrick looked down at his cock and continued playing with his nipples.  Grant could tell it was only a matter of moments before Patrick came.  He placed the towel over Patrick’s cock and continued to jerk him.   Patrick announced “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum!”   As soon as he finished uttering those words he blew his load all over the towel and down Grant’s hand.  Grant continued stroking Patrick’s cock until he was completely flaccid.  

Grant told Patrick that he had an idea of how to get him back up to his apartment without suspicion, naked with only the towel. Grant told Patrick to take off his shoes and socks, take off the towel, and get out of the car.  Patrick began to protest, but Grant told him to trust him and do as he said.  Grant led Patrick to a coiled up garden hose that was used to wash the cars.  Grant turned on the hose and soaked Patrick from head to foot.  Grant enjoyed doing this because the water was cold.  Patrick shuddered.  He told Patrick to slick back his wet hair like he had just gotten out of the swimming pool.  They went back to the car, and Grant had Patrick wrap the cum soaked towel around his waist and fasten it well.  He told Patrick that if anyone noticed him, they would think he was returning from the swimming pool after an evening swim.  Grant told him to pick up his other things from his apartment later. All he needed right now was his key to get into his apartment.  The next morning, Patrick went up to Grant’s apartment to retrieve his belongings. Grant was about to leave and do his workout down in the gym.  He suggested Patrick meet him down there and they could work out together.                                                    

Grant had been in the gym for a while before Patrick showed up.  For his workout Grant purposely wore a tiny pair of white workout shorts that had no lining.  Under those, he had on what seemed to be one of Patrick’s favorite underwear to see guys wearing.  A side tied string thong.  This one was bright orange.  When he moved the tied stings could be seen hanging out the bottom of the shorts.  He topped this gear off with a grey tee shirt that was a tee shirt in name only.  It had seen better days, and had tears and rips all over, not to mention it was paper thin.    Grant was already quite sweaty.  His workout outfit was soaked with sweat and clung to him.  His white shorts were nearly transparent as was his tee shirt. Patrick on the other hand was wearing a muscle shirt that said “Stinking Rich”  an obvious homage to someone who really worked out and a pair of long red baggy poly shorts that went down to his knees.  The shorts were a shiny and looked like they were satin, but they were not. Patrick stood in the doorway of the gym for a while watching until Grant finished his routine.  Grant caught a glimpse of Patrick in one of the mirrors. He was rubbing his cock through his baggy shorts.   “How typical of him.”  Grant thought.   Grant pulled the arm of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his brow.  RRRIIIPPP, his tee shirt tore down his back.  It had been stuck to his sweaty back, and pulling the arm caused the back to rip open.  This gave Grant an idea to see how Patrick would react to the situation.  Grant took hold of the front of his tee shirt.  RRRIIIPPP, in his best Hulk Hogan move, he ripped the front of his tee shirt open and took it off.  Patrick stared with his mouth open.  Grant made no attempt to show any reaction to ripping his tee shirt off, but he did make sure that Patrick noticed his hard nipples.    

Grant finally acknowledged Patrick’s presence.  He told Patrick that they were going to follow his work out regiment.  He said that Patrick was in good shape, and this routine should not be too much for him. Patrick said he would like that, especially considering the shape that Grant was in.  The first thing Grant had Patrick do were the free weights.  Grant took his position as the spotter for Patrick. Grant stood over Patrick, with his legs straddling Patrick’s head.  He purposely squatted lower than he needed to.  His sweaty cock and balls were in Patrick’s face.  Patrick did not say anything.  He just looked up Grant’s crotch.  Grant could see that Patrick was getting off on looking up his shorts.  He had a tent in his baggy red shorts.  As usual, Grant pretended not to notice.  Patrick was able to do a couple of reps on the weights before he arms were tired.  Grant assisted him in putting the weights back in place.  When Patrick let the weights go, he slid his hands down Grant’s legs and just happened to catch the two tie strings of his thong.  He pulled on the strings causing Grant’s thong to untie. Once he had the strings untied, Patrick pulled the thong off Grant through one of his leg openings.  Even before Grant could say anything, Patrick apologized and said his hands got caught after he had set the weights in place. Grant’s abundant cock slipped out the bottom of tiny shorts.  Patrick began to raise his hand toward the exposed organ.  Casually, Grant stepped back away from Patrick.  Grant knew how this morning was going to progress.  He decided it was best not to say anything. After making sure the weights were secured, Grant stepped to the side.  Patrick just lay there.  With his back to Patrick, Grant lowered his tiny shorts and bent at the waist to pull them completely down.  Grant heard Patrick nearly choke as he pushed his butt out and back, nearly into Patrick’s face.  Grant wedged the string of the thong between his butt cheeks and pulled them up.  He tied one of the string sides and then adjusted his ample cock and balls to fit into the little pouch before tying the other string.  Once he was secure in the thong he turned around.  Grant stood facing Patrick for a few moments.  Grant made sure his cock was pushing on the pouch and the base of his cock was spilling  over the top. Grant slowly pulled his little shorts back up.  It was quite obvious that Patrick had a full erection now.  

Grant suggested Patrick try the treadmill.  Grant stood in front of the treadmill and manned the controls.  Patrick got on and began jogging on it.  Grant told Patrick not to stop, that he had to keep moving.  Patrick said he understood.  Grant increased the speed on the treadmill until Patrick was jogging at a good speed. As he was running, his baggy shorts began to slide down.  Grant kept reminding him that he could not stop.  He kept running, and his baggy shorts kept slipping down until they had fallen down and tangled in his feet.  Patrick lost his balance and fell onto the rotating belt of the treadmill. His legs went into the air, his baggy shorts flew off him, and he went off the end of the treadmill.  Grant burst out laughing when he saw Patrick up against the wall with his legs in the air in his underwear, while his shorts flew in the opposite direction.  Patrick got up dazed, not knowing what happened until he looked down and realized he was in his dingy white ill-fitting briefs. Grant pointed in the direction where Patrick’s baggy shorts landed.  Embarrassed, Patrick walked by Grant.  Grant noticed as Patrick walked by him that his briefs were totally stretched out.  The leg bands sagged as did the material of the briefs.  Grant just shook his head.  Patrick quickly put his baggy shorts back on and cinched the drawstring cord in the waistband.  

Grant suggested they go to the pool and do a few laps to finish their workout and cool down.  Grant kicked off his workout shoes and socks and headed for the pool. Patrick did the same and followed him. Grant said they should have a race, three laps.  Before Patrick could say yes or no, Grant dove into the pool.  Patrick dove in and tried to catch up with Grant.  He was able to catch up with Grant, but not overtake him. Half way through, Grant felt something pulling at his shorts.  It was Patrick tugging at his shorts to distract him. He nearly had Grant’s shorts pulled down, but Grant was able to shake free from him and flip around so that he was now behind Patrick.  Grant reached up to pull down Patrick’s shorts.  However, because Patrick had the waist string tied tightly, they would not slide down, and he started ripping them.  Patrick’s poly baggy shorts tore quite easily once they became wet.  There was no sound from the shorts being ripped, because they were underwater.  They started playfully fighting in the water.  Without Patrick knowing, Grant was able to slip his hand inside Patrick’s waistband and pull the string tie out of his shorts.  Grant dove under the water and came back up with Patrick on his shoulders.  He threw Patrick forward and Patrick went flying into the deep end.  When he landed, his shorts had fallen down to his ankles.  Patrick had to tread water and pull up his baggy shorts.  Patrick tried to get close to Grant to get his shorts off him, but he could not.  Grant was a much stronger swimmer.  Grant shoved his hand down the front of Patrick’s shorts and grabbed his cock.  Patrick was instantly hard again.  Grant played with his cock for a few minutes.  He pulled back on the front of Patrick’s shorts and briefs.  Patrick’s briefs continued to stretch, but his wet poly shorts shredded and tore open the front.  The band of Patrick’s underwear snapped back hitting his erect cock and smacked his balls. Grant continued his assault on Patrick pulling and tearing his shorts to pieces.  Grant knew Patrick was enjoying this, because he never lost his erection. The water play began to take its toll on Patrick.  Totally exhausted, Patrick reached the edge of the pool, and hoisted himself up escape from Grant.  However, Grant was faster, and grabbed the crotch of Patrick’s wet underwear.  As Patrick pulled himself up, Grant pulled back yanked on the crotch of his briefs.  RRRIIIPPP, Grant tore the back completely off Patrick’s underwear and threw them aside.   Grant watched and laughed as Patrick pulled his bare ass out of the pool and crawled along the pool edge.  

Grant hopped out of the pool and approached Patrick. Patrick was on his back breathing heavily, but still had an erection.  Grant stood over him and straddled his legs on the sides of Patrick’s head.  Patrick had to look up.  Grant’s little white shorts were completely transparent, and his orange thong was like a beacon. Grant looked down to see Patrick’s cock was throbbing under the torn material of the front of his briefs.  Seeing that Patrick was excited, Grant slipped his fingers up to the strings of his string thong and untied the sides.  He slid his thong off, and dropped it on Patrick’s chest.  His cock was totally visible through the transparent white shorts, and the majority of it hung out the bottom of his shorts as did his ample balls.  Grant crouched down and leaned forward.  He put his cock and balls right in Patrick’s face.   Grant reached down and took hold of the front of Patrick’s already torn briefs. He pulled on them tearing the fabric away from the waistband of his briefs.  Grant took hold of Patrick’s hard cock.  He stroked the length of the shaft slowly.  Patrick’s pre-cum was oozing. Grant wiped the head of Patrick’s cock with his hand to get the pre-cum, and used it to lube up Patrick’s cock. Patrick tried to raise his arms to get to Grant’s low hanging balls and cock, but Grant, using his legs had Patrick’s arms pinned to his side, and he was unable to free them.  Grant gripped Patrick’s cock harder and pumped it faster and faster.  Patrick let out a series of loud moans, before he finally just yelled out in ecstasy. As soon as he yelled, his whole body started writhing.  He came seconds after that.  Grant continued pumping Patrick’s cock until he went limp.  Patrick was completely exhausted.  Grant stood back up and released his leg grip on Patrick’s arms. Grant walked away from Patrick. He used a piece of Patrick’s torn off briefs to wipe his hands, and then turned to see Patrick lying on the floor completely naked.      

Grant returned to his apartment where Rich was waiting. Rich told him that he was ready for Patrick to meet the mystery investor.  They watched the surveillance cameras waiting for Patrick to come home from the gym.  They were beginning to wonder where Patrick was.  He finally entered his apartment about hour after Grant had gotten home. He had a towel wrapped around his waist. They watched as Patrick went into his bedroom and removed the towel, he was still naked underneath the towel.  He went into his dressing room and returned with a pair of red boxers in his hand.  Patrick struggled to put the boxers on, they were too small on him. Grant and Rich thought they obviously belonged to someone else, and he must have stolen them from the gym locker room. Even before he finished getting the boxers over his arse, RRRIIIPPP, the back side of the boxers tore open.  It did not seem to bother Patrick when this happened.  After he finished pulling them up, he went into the dressing room and returned with a box in his hand.  He laid down on the bed, and started to rub his cock through the boxers.  He was hard again.  Patrick opened the box and took out a bottle of lube.  He poured the lube all over the front of his boxers and rubbed it in.  The lube started running down his crotch and between his legs.  He started to finger is manhole with the dripping lube, and it became quite obvious that he was getting quite turned on.  His cock was rock hard and pushing against the front of the red boxers.  He kept trying to readjust his cock under the boxers.  Patrick opened the box again, and pulled out a dildo.  It was not as long as the one he used on Rich, but it was still a good sized one with plenty of girth.  He poured lube over it, allowing the extra lube to run over the front of his boxers.  His boxers were now soaked with lube.  Patrick took the dildo and inserted it into his manhole through the rip in his boxers. Grant and Rich were amazed at the ease in which Patrick took the dildo in.  He shoved it in and pulled it out over and over.  Each time he did he moaned with excited pleasure.  Patrick got off the bed and squatted down.  He rammed the dildo in and out of his hole.  He stopped and left the dildo in place. Still squatting down, he looked around as if to see if anyone was in the room.  Then he pulled on the fly of his boxers.  RRRIIIPPP, he tore the boxers in two.  His cock jumped out of the ripped boxers.  With one hand he started jerking himself off, and with the other, he pushed and pulled the dildo in and out of his hole.  In a matter of moments, Patrick screamed, and shot a stream of cum across the room.  He stood up, and went into the bathroom, with the dildo still up his butt.  It was not until he was in the shower did Patrick remove the dildo.        

After his shower, while he was drying off, the phone rang.  Patrick sat on the bed and picked up the telephone on the nightstand.  It was Rich.  Using a somewhat disguised voice with a foreign accent, Rich introduced himself as the investor and said he would very much like to meet with him and discuss investing with Patrick.  Rich told Patrick that he would meet with him at a specific location and time, but would not give him the exact location.  He told Patrick that he was to go to a designated location tomorrow at one in the afternoon and wait for a phone call.  Patrick thought this was weird, but he remembered that Grant had told him the investor was very eccentric, but had a lot of money.  Patrick agreed to his terms.  Patrick was told that since he did not know what Patrick looked like that he should wear a navy blue suit and a red carnation in the lapel.  Patrick asked him how he would know him.  Rich told him not to worry.  He would make his presence known at the proper time. Without another word, Rich hung up the phone.  Patrick tried to use his telephone features to find out the phone number of the investor, but the id came back as unknown number.  He even called the operator to see if they could tell him where the call originated.  They told him they had no information on the caller.  All the while Patrick was on the phone, he was playing with something in the box that was still on the bed. Patrick pulled something out of the box. Grant and Rich saw that it was a butt plug.  Patrick inserted it into his hole and went to his closet.  He had to make sure his blue suit was there.  He took it from the closet and hung it in the doorway of the dressing room.  He decided that since he had found his suit, he might as well layout the rest of his clothing for his meeting.  He picked out a blue striped tie and a white shirt, and then laid out his underwear and socks he was going to wear.    

Patrick had just finished setting his clothing out for the meeting when his phone rang again.  It was Grant, asking him to come up to his apartment.  He wanted to talk to him.  Patrick was reticent on going up to Grant’s apartment, especially after what had happened in the gym this morning, and since he had just blown another wad.  Grant assured him nothing would happen, and he just wanted to talk to him.  Patrick agreed and hung up the phone.  Patrick headed out the bedroom door, and then realized he was still naked.  He went back to his bedroom to get dressed.  He put on a pair of his usual baggy white briefs and went to the closet.  It was obvious he was looking for something in particular.   He finally mumbled aloud, “where are my chinos?”   Grant and Rich laughed.   Grant said “they are torn to shreds and in the trash!”   He knew Patrick could not hear him. After searching for a few minutes, Patrick grabbed a pair of pants from one of his knockoff suits.  He put on a polo style shirt to make the outfit look as casual as possible, but it was becoming obvious even to him that he needed an infusion of money to bolster is image.  This deal had better work, he said to himself.  

Patrick entered the elevator to go up the one floor to Grant’s apartment.  As soon as he entered and the door closed, Rich emerged from his hiding place at other end of the hall and made his way to Patrick’s apartment.  He had been watching Patrick walk down the hallway, and it was quite obvious that his gait had been altered.  He apparently still had the butt plug shoved up his ass.  

Rich had to work fast to switch out Patrick’s suits. In the meantime, Patrick entered Grant’s apartment.  Grant noticed that Patrick was walking a bit strangely.  Grant could not let the opportunity go by and not mention the way Patrick was walking.  He asked him if something was wrong, he seemed to be walking funny.  Patrick turned very red and said that his muscles were strained from the gym and pool this morning.  Trying to take Grants mind off the way he was walking, Patrick said he was afraid to be alone with Grant.  It seemed that every time they were alone, one or both of them ended up naked, and he ended up getting jerked off.  Grant told him that was not true, but if he felt that way, he would assure Patrick that nothing was going to happen and led Patrick to the kitchen. Grant gave Patrick a hard swat on the ass, as if to tell him they were pals, and apologize for what had happened this morning.  Patrick winced because the plug was pushed farther up his butt.  Nervously, Patrick chuckled.  He said that Grant really knew how to get him off!  They talked for a while.  Grant’s phone rang, and he took the call.  When he hung up the phone, he told Patrick that the call was from his assistant and he was needed in the office immediately.  Patrick said he understood and made his exit.  

A few minutes later, Rich entered Grant’s apartment. “That worked well.”  Grant said. “Yeah, I was hoping you would be able to keep Patrick occupied until I switched out all his suits.” Rich replied. “What did you do with his suits?” “I tossed them down the incinerator chute.” “So, that means he only has our replacement suits?” “Yep, it sure does.”

The next morning when Patrick awoke, he found his apartment was warmer than usual.  He checked the thermostat temperature, it was a little high, and so he adjusted it.  He then took his shower and shaved.  Once out of the shower, he noticed the apartment was not cooling off.  He would have to have maintenance look into it after his meeting with the investor today. He turned his television on to hear the news.  He heard the weather report, and it indicated it was going to be a hot and muggy day. Then the news reporter mentioned the time.  Patrick heard the time, but thought it had to be a mistake.  They said it was two hours later than it actually was according to his bedroom clock.  Concerned about the time, he went to check another clock in the other room.  He became panicked.  It was two hours later than he thought.  Now he had to really rush if he were going to get to his meeting with the investor on time.  He was glad he set everything out he was going to need to wear, but now he was rushing, and beginning to sweat.  He put on his underwear, socks, and garters.  He put his shirt on.  When he started to button it, he knew something was wrong.  It was too tight on him.  He took it off and looked at the tag, and knew it was his shirt.  He thought the laundry must have shrunk it. He went to his closet and grabbed another white shirt.  He put it on, but it too was too tight on him.  This made no sense to him.  He was getting frustrated with the shirts.  He even tried a third one, but the results were the same.  He took off the shirt and removed his tee shirt.  He really did not want to do this, especially with the hot weather.  He put the first shirt back on, hoping for a better fit.  It was still too tight, but he had no choice, it was only getting later. As he buttoned the shirt he thought to himself, without a tee shirt, there was nothing to absorb his perspiration. He managed to get the tight shirt buttoned.  His biceps were tight in the arms, and the shoulders were tight.  Carefully put his tie on.  He did not want to tear the shirt when he raised his arms to put his tie on.  He then slid his blue suit pants on.  As he pulled them up, he knew he was going to have problems.  They were also tight.  As he raised his pants, they became skin tight from the knees up.  At first Patrick thought it was because of the warm apartment and he was beginning to sweat, but the more he tried pulling his pants up, the tighter they became.  He got the pants up over his thighs and hips.  He tucked his shirt into the pants and tried to button the inside button.  He pulled the pants closer together in an attempt to fasten the button.  No sooner did he get the button fastened, and it popped off.  He had no time to fix it.  He knew he was going to be late if he did not leave the apartment within the next five minutes.  What was wrong with this suit went racing through his mind.  Had he gained weight?  He just did not know what was wrong.  He pulled the zipper up as far as he could, which was only about three quarters of the way up.  He looked in the mirror.  He saw that the length of the suit pants was correct.  He must have gained weight was his thought.  He put the jacket on.  He buttoned it, hoping to cover the fact that he could not get his zipper all the way up. Like the rest of his suit, the jacket was too tight.  It was small in the shoulders, and tight throughout.  He pulled the front closed and buttoned it.  He knew very well that the back vent of his jacket was stretched open and his arse was sticking out.  This would have to do.  He was now soaked in perspiration, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Patrick left his apartment and got into his car for the drive to his destination.  He was looking forward to being in his car with the air conditioning on so he could cool down.  He stared his car and turned on the air conditioning.  The ac unit came on, and then quit all together.  Patrick played with it for a few seconds before giving up on it.  He took his jacket off and opened the windows.  His gaping zipper was straining to keep his trousers closed.  Where the zipper was not together, the material of his pants and the zipper had become greatly distorted.  Also, his underwear could be seen.  By the time he had reached the street, warm air was coming out the ac vents.  He drove in the hot humid midday heat with more hot air coming out the vents.  He was nearly to his destination when he realized he had forgotten his red carnation at home.  He stopped at a flower shop to buy another one.  When he got out of his car, his back and legs were soaked with sweat.  He put his jacket on, to hide his wet back and also his partially open zipper was covered. Patrick reached into the back pocket of his pants to get his wallet.  He heard something rip.  He knew it was his shirt, but was unsure where it had ripped. “Fuck,” he said under his breath.  He went to pay for the flower, but only had one bill in his wallet, and it was a one hundred dollar bill.  The store clerk asked if he had a smaller bill, but he said no.  The clerk ended up giving him the change in one dollar bills. This took extra time that Patrick did not have.  Patrick stuffed the bills back in his wallet, which was now bulging, and carefully put it back into the back pocket of his pants.  When Patrick got back to his car, he took his jacket off again and saw that his shirt had torn near the side seam, and around the arm hole.  It was not a large tear, but seeing as how tight his shirt was, he was not sure if he could keep it from ripping anymore. Gently, he sat down in the driver’s seat and headed for his destination.  

When he got to the destination he was told to be at by the investor, Patrick only had two minutes to get to the meeting location. He tried to slide out of his leather seat, but he was now drenched in sweat, and was stuck to the seat.  Carefully he lifted himself off the seat and got out of his car.  He went to the other side to put his jacket on.  As he took his jacket out of the car, his cell phone fell out of the jacket pocket and landed in the gutter.  Still aware of his suit’s condition, Patrick carefully bent down to pick up the cell phone. However, as he did, RRRIP, he heard something on his pants give way.  He quickly picked up the phone and stood back up.  He ran his hand up and down his backside, and found that he had ripped the wallet side back pocket of his pants.  His bulging wallet and sweat stuck pants were too much for the material to withstand.  He was able to put three fingers into the tear, and knew his white briefs would now be seen.  Patrick put his jacket on, and buttoned it up.  He hated doing so, because of the hot day, but he had no other choice.  He ran his hand along the bottom of his jacket, and sure enough, the tear in his pants was below the bottom of the jacket.

Patrick quickly walked to the area he where he hoped to meet with the investor only to find no one was there. Then his cell phone rang. It was the investor.  The investor told Patrick to leave that location and walk about six blocks to a park, and wait for instructions.  Before hanging up the phone, the investor told Patrick that he only had ten minutes to get to the location.  Patrick knew he would have to hurry to get to the park on time.  He was walking very fast, and could feel the sun blazing down on him.  Now the sweat was rolling down his back, and his briefs were trying to absorb as much as they could.  He wished he had been able to wear a tee shirt.  The tee would have helped in absorbing the moisture. When he got to the park, his cell phone started ringing again.  Patrick answered it.  The investor told Patrick to go to the far edge of the park and retrieve an envelope that was hanging from a branch in a tree.  He would know which tree it was, because the envelope would be hanging by a red balloon.  He started running to the edge of the part.  Patrick saw the tree with the balloon and headed for it.  He got to the tree but found the envelope was too high up for him to grab.  He looked around for something to poke at the envelope, but did not see anything.  He would have to climb the tree to get it.  Patrick took his jacket off.  He climbed up the tree trunk to the branch where the envelope was hanging.  He knew the branch would not hold his weight if he climbed out to it, so he stretched from the main trunk to try and reach the envelope.  As he did, RRRIIIPPP, his tight sweat wet shirt ripped at the arm hole and down the entire side.  He looked back at the tear in his shirt, which caused him to lose his balance and fall out of the tree.  He landed on his back in the dusty dirt below the tree.  The back of his shirt and pants were now covered in dirt.  He lay there for a moment.  The fall knocked the wind out of him.  Once he caught his breath, he sat up.  Unfortunately, when he did, RRIIPP, too much stress was put on the tear in his back pocket.  It tore further down, and the other back pocket started tearing.  He also felt some of the buttons on his shirt rip off. His chest was showing where the buttons once were.  Patrick got back up and climbed the tree again.  He eased himself a little farther out on the branch.  He started feeling the branch bending and heard it creaking. He managed to knock the balloon and the envelope out of the tree and watched as it floated down to the ground. Carefully, he backed himself down the tree, hugging the trunk all the way down.  Once on the ground he looked at the front of his white shirt, it was now stained with dirt from the tree trunk.  He sized up the damage to his clothing.  Torn ripped shirt, and dirty shirt and pants, and both back pockets were ripped on the pants.   “This deal had better get me a fucking lot of money.”  He said to himself.   Patrick grabbed his jacket from the ground and put it on.  He buttoned it up to see how much of the dirt and rip showed.  Looking down at his shirt, the ripped side did not show, but there was some dirt streaking on the front of it.  The missing buttons on the shirt were also covered with the buttoned jacket.  He ran his hands over his arse.  The tears in the pockets were definitely longer than the jacket.  He could feel his briefs, brief straps, and legs through the rips.  Again he mumbled to himself, before gaining sight of the envelope on the ground. Patrick stepped over to the envelope and leaned over to pick it up.  RRRIIIPPP, his suit jacket tore up the back seam from the stretched open flap all the way up to the collar.  However, that was not all that ripped.  The other arm of his shirt had also ripped apart, and it too had torn down the length of his chest.  

Patrick picked up the envelope and tore it open.  The instructions said to be the patio dining area of the Fashion Centre at three o’clock.  Patrick was unfamiliar with the Fashion Centre and where it was located. Fortunately, there were directions on the instructions.  Looking at his watch, Patrick saw that it was already ten of three.  He started running following the directions.  He got to the Centre with only a minute left.  He looked around for the patio dining area but did not see it. He then saw a sign pointing up three flights of stairs that said Patio Dining area.  He started running up the stairs, but knew he was not going to be on time.  He started taking the stairs two and three at a time to make up some time.  He was now soaking wet with perspiration.  As he took the multiple steps, all he heard was RRRIIIPPP, RRRIIIPPP, and RRRIIIPPP.  His suit pants started tearing and ripping.  They were so tight and clinging to his wet body, that they had been stretched and pulled beyond their limits.  They could not take any more stress and gave out.  Rip, the back pockets of his pants shredded open down the back of his legs. Rip, the outer side seams tore apart. Rip, the inseams burst open.  Just as he was to the top of the final flight of stairs, he tripped.  That was all that was needed.  In one final act of defiance, his pants just completely ripped apart.  The zipper burst open and tore the front of his pants wide open, and the clasp holding his pants closed ripped out.  His pants fell to the ground in pieces.  His jacket too ripped through the collar and fell from his body.  Patrick was so intent on making it to his meeting that he did not even notice his pants and jacket were left behind.  Off in the shadows he saw a man sitting at a table that he knew must have been his investor. He was wearing an off white linen suit and had a red carnation in his lapel.  Patrick could not see his face because he was wearing a wide brimmed Panama hat that shaded his face.  The investor looked at his wrist watch and then got up to leave the dining area. Patrick was about ready to call out to him when someone ran up behind Patrick and with one good tug and pull RRRIIIPPP, tore off his baggy sagging dingy white briefs.  Patrick turned around, but it was too late to see who had done this to him.  All he saw was someone wearing a hoodie running away.  Patrick stood there, his torn shirt was blowing in hot humid breeze, his cock and balls were hanging out for everyone to see.  

Within seconds, Patrick was knocked to the ground by a police officer.  He tried to struggle to get free, but he could not.  All he managed to do was to finish tearing off his shirt.  Now naked on the ground, Patrick watched the suited gentleman get into a limo.  The gentleman removed his hat before entering the vehicle.  Patrick got a good look at his face, it was Rich.  He had been setup and he knew it.  Patrick watched as the limo drove off.    

Unbeknownst to Patrick, on the table was another envelope addressed to the FBI and other Police agencies.  Inside of it was all the incriminating documentation needed to put Patrick away for the rest of his life on charges of money laundering, bank fraud, and a Ponzi scheme, just to name a few things.  

Grant and Rich pulled all the surveillance equipment from Patrick’s apartment before the police had the chance to search it.  What the police found in Patrick’s apartment were the materials Patrick had used in his previous schemes to swindle people and a number of bags of some white powder that was believed to be cocaine.  Over the next few days, Grant and Rich watched the television news repeatedly as Grant in his hoodie ran behind Patrick and ripped off his underwear.  It seems this was caught on surveillance equipment from the patio, and they were now looking for this ‘Underwear Shredder’.  Neither Grant nor Rich were concerned, because there was no way the tape could identify Grant.      

[reanimationstation]

ok, look, to preface this, this discourse is fun and all, etc etc, and i really do enjoy answering asks and hearing your opinions. but some of yall seriously would punch first ask questions later?? huh?????

yes, Felix did assume his father was in danger. anyone would, given that its a stranger, possibly posing a threat, and theyre right next to your very fragile father. now, felix rushes forwards and roughly pulls TC away. cool!! yeah, a bit brash, but yes, understandable, he wants to keep his father from potential harm. thats a normal thing to do, and want to do. i understand, and its valid, and in a similar situation i would probably do the same, as would many others

but??? beating him with a stick?????????????? is a BIT far?? and the fact that he wouldve continued had TC not run out???? excuse me??????? he doesnt know shit about TC, and resorting to attacking him is not?? a good thing in the slightest????

and this isnt even touching on the worse aspect of this of felix seeing an "ugly" and "scary" person and immediately resorting to violence (and some of you agreeing), but i personally dont think its in my place to talk about that

#violence tw #ask to tag #yeah no obviously felix isnt gonna offer a cup of tea to TC #thats an extremely opposite reaction #im just sayng felix went too far #not that he has to be the perfect host to this stranger in his house #(also sorry that this is lowkey (?) vagueing someone i just wanted to make my reply a post) #(no hate im just sayin my opinions on things uwu) #(if you want i can just tag you lol) #disk horse #hate using that tag lol #victors internal monologue #am i putting this in the main tag........ #yes #frankenstein #if that bothers someone ill just remove it no worries #felix de lacey #later ill draw some art of him so that his tag isnt just discourse lmao

[fabulouslygaybean]

hearing my mom talk abt my cousins and how she thinks it's sad how the oldest ones still live w their parents is worrying bc like. i have a sinking feeling she'll want me outta the house the second i turn 18 and idk if im ready for that

#ive still got time but like. god it makes me anxious #also to clarify. i say my cousins but i specifically mean this one household which has like 7 of my cousins #technically 6 of them are my first cousins once removed but thats stupid as hell so they're all my cousins #anyways. it just seems weird how bothered my mom is about it. #my cousins have always been a very tight knit family and theres been no pressure for anyone to leave earlier than they want to #3/6 of the kids are legally adults now and a 4th one is gonna turn 18 this year iirc #they all still live at home with their parents and its not seen as a big deal bc they have the space to house them so they're not worried - #- abt everyone moving out #but i hear my mom talking about how its a tragedy that they're still living with their parents and it just feels weird #the most anyone has ever done to try and push someone out of the house was when the family was encouraging the oldest to enroll in - #- college and maybe try out dorm living if that's something they'd be able to deal with #everyone emphasized that the family would still welcome them back into the house if dorm living didn't work out #just. idk. it seems so much healthier than whatever my moms got going on #she didn't live with her parents past the age of 14 because she went from boarding school straight to college so maybe thats why #she's so used to the idea of ditching ur family as soon as possible that i guess its hard to grasp the fact that some families don't mind - #- living together even after the kids turn 18? #idk. its just worrying for me. i don't know if ill be able to be on my feet and ready to leave home the moment i turn 18. ive only just - #- started to scratch the surface of independence bc i was never ALLOWED to be majorly independent before mid 2020 #im horribly unprepared for living as an independent adult so i just have to cross my fingers and hope i get it figured out before im 18

[hornime]

watch and learn | iwaizumi hajime x f!reader x team japan

there were two things they all had in common: the growing bulges in their pants that they were urgently trying to distract themselves from, and the fact that their full attention was on you.

warnings: 18+, timeskip!everyone, BIG MANGA SPOILERS BASICALLY, exhibitionism, voyeurism, orgasm denial

w/c: 3.1k

a/n: now i don’t know if iwaizumi hajime (27) athletic trainer learned about female orgasms when he was studying sports science at irvine BUT he def knows how to show a girl a good time which is reason enough for me to write this. also, i read this article to prep for this piece and it was super enlightening, so i do recommend giving it a read if you’re interested!

in the middle of his morning run, iwaizumi slowed momentarily to check the repetitive buzzing of this phone, curious as to who was messaging him this early. when he’d left the apartment, you were sleeping, and you had the tendency to still be sleeping by the time he returned, so who else could it be?

he unlocked his phone, quickly finding the source of the notifications: the team japan group chat.

[06:43 AM] miya: hey @iwaizumi—you know stuff abt the human body right?

[06:43 AM] miya: cus like you studied it in college and shit??

iwaizumi rolled his eyes. i spent four years in america to earn my degree, came back home to support my country’s olympic team, and dealt with the biggest idiots of volleyball, only to get treated like this?

[06:44 AM] iwaizumi: yes, miya. i took many courses on the human body. in fact that’s the purpose of my job. to know the human body. because i am a fucking athletic trainer.

[06:44 AM] miya: okay okay i get it. dumb question

[06:44 AM] iwaizumi: why? is something up? you need help or anything?

[06:44 AM] miya: uhhh kinda

[06:44 AM] miya: @hinata i’m not fucking asking this

[06:44 AM] bokuto: bro just do it

[06:44 AM] miya: @hinata @hinata @hinata 

iwaizumi cocked an eyebrow. what the hell are they going on about?

[06:45 AM] iwaizumi: so am i needed or...

[06:45 AM] hinata: YES

[06:45 AM] hinata: we had a question

[06:46 AM] sakusa: by “we” he means him, miya, and bokuto

[06:46 AM] suna: yeah don’t bring us into this

[06:46 AM] hinata: don’t listen to them! both suna and sakusa wanna know too

[06:46 AM] iwaizumi: okay. what’s up

[06:47 AM] hinata: we wanted to know how to make a girl cum

he chuckled in disbelief.

[06:47 AM] iwaizumi: you’re telling me that you guys are in your mid-20s, literal olympic athletes, and you don’t know how to make a girl cum

[06:47 AM] iwaizumi: have you never done it before??

[06:47 AM] miya: NO

[06:47 AM] miya: FOR THE RECORD IVE MADE MANY GIRLS CUM

[06:48 AM] bokuto: ME TOO

[06:48 AM] bokuto: i think

he laughed out loud, briefly startling another runner on the sidewalk.

[06:48 AM] iwaizumi: you guys are unbelievable

[06:48 AM] hinata: i mean she says she finished but idk what i did to make that happen

[06:48 AM] bokuto: ^^

[06:48 AM] hinata: so like i wanna know how to actually do it

[06:48 AM] suna: actually im kinda interested in this too

[06:48 AM] aran: i pray for your future girlfriends. this is painful to see. im out

[06:48 AM] kageyama: i’m with aran on this one. you guys are dumb

[06:48 AM] hinata: shut up. you suck.

[06:48 AM] miya: cmon iwaizumi, help a guy out

[06:48 AM] sakusa: it wouldnt hurt for you to give us some pointers at least

iwaizumi sighed.

[06:49 AM] iwaizumi: @miya @hinata @bokuto @suna @sakusa meet in the locker room after practice. ill give you guys a lesson in the art of pleasing a woman

to teach effectively, he needed a volunteer, though he was sure you wouldn’t need much convincing. you’d always loved the attention, and the biceps, of the pro athletes. he spun on his heel and jogged home.

you woke up to the sound of your apartment door opening, your boyfriend creeping inside, forehead damp with sweat.

“hey,” you said quietly, making your way towards him.

“hey, baby. sorry for waking you up, i was trying to be quiet.”

you giggled sleepily. “s’okay, haji. you spoil me too much anyway, always letting me sleep in for hours while you’re off doing god knows what.”

at that, his eyes crinkled in amusement, and as you tried to step into a hug, he shuffled back. “woah there, baby. i gotta shower, ‘m all gross from my run. and then,” he gave you a peculiar look that you couldn’t quite place, “i got a proposition for you.”

after his shower, he waltzed out of the bathroom, steam wafting out from behind the door. his tanned body made you feel things you definitely shouldn’t be barely an hour after the sun’s risen, and you reached out to massage the tension in his shoulders. “so, what’s your proposition?”

“well,” he hesitated. “it’s a bit... unconventional. the team asked me to show them how to make a girl cum,” he took in your intrigued expression. “and it’d be a lot easier to explain if i had someone to do a live demonstration with. so,” his eyes flicked up to you. “that’s where you’d come in.”

“a... live demonstration? like you’re gonna make me cum in front of them?”

“yeah, essentially.” he gave you a devilish grin. “you want that, baby? wanna show those boys how a real man treats a gorgeous woman like you?”

you rubbed your thighs at his words. “yeah,” you purred. “i do. wanna show them how good you are to me.”

and that’s how you found yourself nestled between iwaizumi’s muscled thighs, back pressed against his chest, completely naked, with five of japan’s best volleyball players staring at your body in awe.

practically an expert in his field, iwaizumi knew the human body inside and out. this had many benefits; of course it allowed him to catapult up the ranks and work with the country’s best athletes to keep them at the top of their game, but it also had a unique side effect: an overwhelming vault of knowledge on how to make a woman feel good anywhere. 

you’d seen the proof firsthand; he knew exactly where to push, prod, stroke, and tease to have you cumming in seconds, over and over, as many times as you wanted. he was amazing, and you were well-aware just how lucky you were to have such a talented man in the sheets.

“oi,” iwaizumi snapped his fingers, drawing each of the players’ eyes away from your glistening cunt. “pay attention. i know more than anybody that she’s hot as fuck, but you gotta listen to what i’m saying or else there’s no point to this.”

he lightly pressed his lips against your collarbone, slowly tracing them against your jaw, the contact making you squirm. “if you wanna make a girl cum, first thing you gotta do is make her comfortable. if she’s worried about how she looks or sounds or smells she’s gonna be too stressed to let go.” he moved his hands to grope your tits, his calloused fingers brushing over your hardening nipples. “so reassure her, tell her how irresistible she is, how pretty her moans are, how tasty her pussy is. shit like that. the sexier she feels the better it’ll be.”

he leaned into you, whispering into your ear. “feeling good, baby? we can stop whenever.”

you nodded weakly, afraid to open your mouth, barely holding in your whines as his palms worked wonders on your chest and stomach, sending shocks of heat wherever they touched. 

you craned your neck up to observe the men before you. atsumu was flushed red, wringing his hands as if he was worried they’d do something embarrassing if he didn’t keep them occupied. hinata was bouncing his leg up and down, wiping his palms on his shorts as he took in the plushness of your thighs. bokuto was basically drooling, greedily tracing your soft curves with his eyes. suna maintained his indifferent expression, but the reddening tips of his ears showed that he was a lot more hot and bothered than he let on. sakusa stood quietly to the side, leaning against the wall, mask tucked under his chin as if he’d just realized how much the temperature had gone up in the room.

there were two things they all had in common: the growing bulges in their pants that they were urgently trying to distract themselves from, and the fact that their full attention was on you.

"make sure to try different things; there’s multiple ways to make a woman cum. only like a quarter of women experience orgasms just from penetration,” someone made a sound of shock. “yes, the number is that small, bokuto.” 

his fingertip slowly trailed past your belly button, dipping into the mess between your thighs, causing you to slightly arch your back into the solid chest supporting you. “foreplay with the clit is your best bet; even stupid fucks like you probably wouldn’t screw it up too bad.”

hinata opened his mouth to speak, but iwaizumi anticipated his question and continued.

“i know you’re wondering where the clit is. it’s around here, under this hood of skin,” he slid his digit between your labia. “s’not gonna come with a label so you gotta explore a little bit. i know where hers is like the back of my hand, but for you guys, with your girls, you’re gonna have to move your fingers around. slowly. and pay attention to her expressions.” he began to rub in a circular motion around your clit, causing you to make small whimpers of pleasure and shift your hips to meet his movements. 

“if she clenches up or twitches when you feel a certain spot, like this,” your legs flexed as he increased the pressure, “that’s the clit. be kind, it’s not a volleyball. be gentle n’ make small circles, whether it’s with your fingers or your tongue.” 

he thought for a second. “speaking of which, oral’s important. very important. most women cum when they’ve been eaten out, so use your mouths for something more useful than just dirty talk. suck on the clit, maybe tongue-fuck her a ‘lil, but your main focus should always be the clit.”

he removed his hands from your sopping pussy, and you made a pathetic noise of frustration. “’m sorry, baby,” he muttered seductively in your ear. “don’t wanna have you finishing too early. lesson’s barely started.”

he turned his attention back to your audience, his lustful tone being replaced by a more instructional one. “there’s other places that’ll help a woman orgasm, too: her nipples, her neck, her ears—”

“her ears?” sakusa questioned. he blushed profusely as everyone turned to look at him, surprised that he’d opened his mouth. “what? we were all thinking it.”

“s’a valid question,” iwaizumi said. “yeah, you can lick ‘em if they’re sensitive. hers are.” as if to prove his statement, he licked a stripe on the shell of you ear, making you wiggle helplessly at the stimulation. “‘n leave kisses everywhere else. feels good for them just like it does for us.” he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him and forcing your movements to stop as he traced patterns with his tongue all around your neck.

“something you should know about an orgasm is that it’s something called a positive feedback loop.” he looked up and was met with five blank stares. shouldn’t have expected anything from these dumb jocks, he lamented. “basically that means that, once you start releasing sexual tension, things will feel better and better until you climax.”

“oh!” atsumu chirped. “like how my sets get better and better throughout a game.”

“no, not really,” he quipped. “your sets suck throughout.” atsumu frowned at that.

iwaizumi exhaled exasperatedly. “the general idea is that the body gets more and more sensitive, muscle contractions become more and more frequent, and touches feel more and more stimulating until you cum. all right?”

they all made noises of understanding except for bokuto and hinata, whose eyes had glazed over at the first mention of an academic term. whatever, iwaizumi thought. they’ll get it through example.

"don’t worry about it too much if you don’t get it, that’s just an orgasm on paper. in practice, though, this is the crucial step: listen to her. she knows what feels good. never forget that you’re just an idiot with a cock.” he took a breath, gathering his thoughts before proceeding with his lecture.

“if she tells you to slow down, you slow down. if she tells you to go harder, you go harder. if she tells you to keep doing what you’re doing, you...”

“keep doing what you’re doing”, they all chimed in at staggered times.

“that’s right. don’t go faster or else you’ll mess up the rhythm and she won’t cum. and you wanna make her cum, don’t you?”

they nodded simultaneously.

“so if you keep up the tempo and force that feels good to her, you’ll be fine. questions?”

suna spoke up. “what about,” he choked on the word. “penetration?”

hinata hummed in agreement and bokuto jumped in. “yeah, what if i wanna make her cum on my cock?”

iwaizumi made a weird face. “that’s some pretty advanced stuff, but i guess i can go over it. when you try it, though, you have to be patient. with both of your bodies. s’not rocket science but s’not always easy. also it depends on the woman but sometimes she physically won’t be able to finish from penetration alone. just make sure you’re communicating.”

his swirled two fingers over your hole before shoving them in, your wetness making it easy for him to thrust in and out as your entrance stretched to accommodate him. “f—fuck!” your eyes flew open at the intrusion and you body lurched forward, but you were held back by his strong forearm. “ohmygod, oh my g—ah! feels s’good haji, s’good!”

“i know, baby, i know. you’re taking it so well.” he turned his attention back to the men, each of who were gulping heavily. if that didn’t signal to you that they were evidently affected by your moans, the way they shifted in their workout shorts did.

“boys, focus.” he curled his fingertips, brushing at the spongy spot at the top of your walls, ripping a pleasured wail from your throat and causing tears to prick at your eyelashes. “when you’re fingering her, you’ll feel an area inside that’s a bit soft and squishy. that’s the g-spot.”

you trembled in his arms as he mercilessly struck the same place over and over again with his fingers. “when you’re fucking her, try to keep the pressure building there, but it’ll be harder to make her finish since you can’t see what you’re doing.”

your breath hitched as iwaizumi’s incessant movements brought your body tantalizingly close to your release. he suddenly stopped and you almost sobbed in disappointment, until he plunged his fingers impossibly deeper.

a guttural scream of ecstasy came from within you, and your eyes rolled back as he began playing with another part of you, your body putty in his hands. “hngh, haji, ah! so good, s’good...” you threw your hands back around his neck, nails digging into the skin as you desperately tried to keep yourself grounded. your soft moans filled the air.

“stop clenching,” he hissed. “can barely move my hand.” you tried to relax but failed miserably as the tips of his fingers grazed your cervix. 

“holy fuck,” suna muttered. “you’re a god.”

“she sounds so pretty,” atsumu said in amazement.

“i wanna make a girl feel good like that, too!” bokuto sulked.

“you can do it, bokuto!” hinata hit him on the arm. “just listen to iwaizumi. clearly he knows what he’s talking about.” 

their eyes refocused on your figure, writhing in pleasure, prompting white hot waves of arousal to pool in their stomachs. 

“yeah,” sakusa said. “clearly.”

“stop talking,” iwaizumi ordered. “and listen. beyond the g-spot is the cervix, which is basically the end of the vagina. if you’re long enough,” he briefly scanned each of their faces, “which i’m sure you are, you’ll be able to reach it if you bottom out.”

“haji—hajime, please.” the stimulation was coming absolutely unbearable, and you could tell he was sadistically holding you at the edge, refusing to give you the satisfaction of finishing. “lemme cum, please. please lemme cum, please, please, i can’t—i can’t take it ‘nymore!”

“what was that? you can’t take it anymore? gonna cum?” you helplessly bobbed your head up and down, hoping that he’d give you permission. “well,” he growled, “we can’t have that happening, can we?”

he abruptly halted his thrusts, pulling his fingers out of you with an embarrassing squelch and popping them into his mouth. pearly tears rolled down your cheeks as you grieved the loss of contact and relief.

your viewers looked on in horror, feeling immense sympathy for you; you just looked so dejected from being denied yet another orgasm.

“why didn’t you—why didn’t you let her cum?” bokuto asked.

“why do you think?” iwaizumi snapped. “don’t want you guys to see her when she does. that’s for me, and only me.”

“oh, okay,” he responded, disgruntlement clear in his voice.

iwaizumi’s glare could cut glass, it was so sharp. the possessiveness that had enveloped his mind made him hyperfocus on just one thought: being alone with you. “so, any other questions? if not, we’re done here.”

you pouted at that, not wanting the demonstration to be over. “but haji,” you mumbled into his collarbone. “i di’nt get to cum. and i wanna.” you looked up at him, eyes wide with want. “please make me cum.”

iwaizumi sent a harsh glance to the players that nonverbally communicated his message loud and clear: get out. they shuffled awkwardly out of the locker room due to the hardness between their legs that they would most definitely need to deal with soon.

your boyfriend turned his attention back to you. “’m sorry, i know i had to deny you a bunch of times. i just really hated the idea of anyone but me seeing the cute way you look when you cum.”

you made a small noise of acknowledgement and a little whisper of it’s okay, haji. he looked down, sensing the way your poor, desperate cunt was pulsing around nothing, the erotic sight injecting him with the pure need to ravage you.

he shifted his head to kiss you passionately. “why don’t i make it up to you?” he breathed between your parted lips before picking you up by the backs of your thighs, forcing you to lock your ankles around his waist. 

he delicately situated you onto one of the recovery beds at the back of the room, before murmuring something that made your pussy throb in anticipation: “i’ll make you cum whichever way you want, however many times you want, all right? all you gotta do is lay back and take it.”

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