#do NOT ask why i swapped circle with a mole with. circle ^_^

[inktheinkling]

gaang my youtube glitched and the hosts got swapped how do i fix this

[olderjodijournals]

SATURDAY, AUGUST 1, 2015

Met another neighbor yesterday when I went out to get the trash bin. Her name is Roxanne. She was delivering the monthly Crier. She lives on the other side of the circle and she said she’s seen me out biking. She said she and her husband miss biking but now that they’re in their 80s, they’re not as steady. She looked good for being in her 80s.

I had a dream that our disposal stopped working and then I looked down at the floor and noticed a pool of water by the refrigerator.

Tom was still in touch with his family and he came home from working for them all day on their own broken issues. We were upset that they didn’t pay him for his work as they normally would, even if they didn’t always pay him fairly.

I pointed out the garbage disposal and the water leak and he started laughing.

I didn’t read the details, as usual, but I saw a headline about Norway’s pigs only shooting 1 person since 2006. Well, that’s no surprise when the pigs A, don’t carry guns. B, they could fit their country into ours a million times over. C, they're mostly white natives.

SUNDAY, AUGUST 2, 2015 “Ready to ride?”

“Yes,” I told Tom, “before the walkers, joggers and mutt walkers get out and start blocking the roads. I don’t know why they won’t get out of the way when they see me coming.”

Tom laughs and says, “You’re the one who’s supposed to go around them.”

“Uh-uh. I’m queen of these roads.”

“You’re not old enough to be here,” he jokes, referring to those who think I’m some kind of caretaker. “You gotta respect your elders.”

LOL!

No one was out, but it sure was windy at times. I still can’t believe, despite the annoying landscaping sounds, what a beautiful park we live in as well as how much is now in our 401K, after we were so poor for so long. It has a way of making one feel rich. Even the glasses I’m getting look “rich.”

So yeah, I will discuss our eye exams now. Our new Walmart eye doc, Kristy G, is a very nice young American lady of Asian descent (I think). While she was finishing up with what was probably her first patient of the day, her assistant did the preliminary testing, including that dreaded air puffer.

The doctor took us both in and I sat in a chair while she examined Tom first, who has a cataract growing in one eye. Where he’s squeamish about dentists, unlike me, he’s brave when it comes to eyes, so if he ever needed surgery, he wouldn’t be afraid. Me… I’d be scared shitless.

Then she dilated his eyes with drops and we swapped seats. She told me my nerves looked healthy and didn’t say much through the exam other than to look up, down, left, right, etc. Then… “I do notice a small eye nevus in the left eye,” and I’m thinking, please don’t tell me I’m going to find out I have something worse than OH. But it’s just a benign mole like we sometimes have on our skin. Tom vaguely remembers our old doc in Auburn referring to it as a freckle.

After she dilated my eyes (I hate that) I casually asked if I had ocular hypertension and she said, “Actually, you are borderline.”

Whew! So glad it’s not up and that she too, didn’t refer me to a specialist. I wasn’t surprised. I would’ve had bad dreams the night before and then I’d have been jumping with bad vibes. The fact that she didn’t want to do all those tests that Hanson did or refer me to a specialist tells me it’s probably down from the last time I was examined a couple of years ago. She’ll still want to monitor the nevus. She wants to see me regularly because ocular hypertension can lead to glaucoma.

My long-distance vision has changed more than my close-up vision and has actually improved, much to my surprise. My left eye is slightly better, too. I guess in 20 years I may not need glasses to see distance. That would be great, though I’d rather not need them for reading and using the computer.

I’ve wanted frameless glasses so my glasses are less obvious and not the first thing you see when you look at me, so I decided to just go all out and get a pair of gorgeous designer frames with mauve metal and some shiny gems on the sides. Will take pictures when I get them, along with my old very bold, and heavy-framed purple Candies I’m wearing now for comparison. I’d still prefer perfect vision and not need glasses, but these are definitely going to be the nicest-looking pair I’ve had so far.

Both our glasses cost over $500, but mine is most of the cost, of course, LOL. I got transitioning HI non-glare progressive lenses. I hated the cheap mail-order progressives I once got, but the lady who took care of our frame-picking said she has those and loves them. She said it might take me a month to get used to them and to not feel like the room is “moving,” but that I should get used to them. At over $300, I better get used to them! I wanted to get the rounded bifocals my Candies have, but because the HI plastic is so thin, it would shatter them.

Two people complimented my rainbow dress, including a girl of about 10. I may usually act my age, but I never dress it, LOL, and you know you’re not dressing your age when even the kids compliment you.

I don’t remember much in the way of last night’s dreams. Something about buying a bright yellow snake and running into Simone and wishing I could take her home. I miss that little shit at times, as wild as she was.

Oh wow, Andy just told me Shelley’s bringing Charlotte to visit Judy in the hospital. I was surprised because I had no idea they were friends again, and I also didn’t know Charlotte was in any condition to be visiting people. Last I knew she had the beginning of Alzheimer’s and in a nursing home where I thought she’d spend the rest of her life.

I loved Charlotte, and I told Andy she could tell her this, too. She was one of the few friends of my mother’s that weren’t phony and that treated me with respect. To the best of my knowledge, she wasn’t kind to my face one minute, then badmouthing me behind my back the next. I would love to hear from her, but when I never got a reply to the letter I sent a few years ago or online, I figured she just wasn’t up to communicating and left it at that.

So why am I still getting messages from My Health? This time it was to tell me I was due for my TSH test. So I took this as an opportunity to contact my lovely ex-doc and tell her that I’m with Mercy now, so I don’t know why I’m still getting reminders and all that. Also, could she please email me when she can? Nothing’s wrong and it’s not urgent, I told her. Just some information I didn’t want to disclose there. I would still love to know if she ever got my Facebook messages and friend request, but my guess is I’ll never hear from her. At least not by email.

MONDAY, AUGUST 3, 2015 Sure enough, no reply and no email from my ex-doctor, which means she probably did get my Facebook messages, friend request, and share notification.

The Atkins diet is still making me too gassy, so I’m going to modify it a bit. I am confident that I’m not going to lose any more weight anyway. With Hashimoto’s, we usually have a certain threshold that our bodies simply won’t cross no matter what we do, but I am still more focused on how I feel and not what the numbers on the scale say. Next weekend I’m going to gather all the clothes I’m too big for and donate them to Goodwill.

I had a dream I went to see my endo doc and she had me spell words that don’t even exist.

Beginning the editing of my book today. No fun. :(

TUESDAY, AUGUST 4, 2015 There goes Bob for his and Virginia’s first of many runs. Still can’t figure out where a couple of retirees would need to go three times a day. Their habits haven’t changed in the two years we’ve been here except that Bob has been quieter since he’s laid off the saws and hammers much to my appreciation. He still walks early in the mornings with Jim.

Anyway, while I still don’t want to get my hopes up and I’m still not ready to believe anything major could change since it’s been so long, I did lose 2 pounds so far on the Atkins diet. I just had to add a few more carbs so I’m not as gassy. Again, it’s too soon to judge anything, but I will say that it’s weird that my weight has been going down while I have been gaining water as I get closer to my period. This is a definite first. Women usually go up at that time, not down. As always, though, if I lose, fine. If I don’t, that’s fine, too. Both have their pros and cons.

Andy said he doesn’t expect to see Charlotte when she visits Judy. Last I heard Charlotte doesn’t even know who she is most of the time and her memories of Judy are from the 70s. Judy has to have surgery but is otherwise doing well. They celebrated her 88th birthday at the hospital last night.

I didn’t know my cousin knew her, but as I recently said, it seems that everybody is somehow connected to everybody else, past and current. Somewhere along the way, there is always at least one person we’re currently connected to who is connected to someone we haven’t been in touch with for years.

Last night I dreamed I was signing to a deaf black woman. She was thrilled to have somebody to sign with, wherever we were.

Then I had some dream about placing a collector’s doll I really liked on some chair somewhere while Tom and I were led into some room to either talk to someone or see something. It was then that it hit me that somebody probably stole the doll by now because it was a nice doll and there were a lot of people around. Some woman agreed that it would be long gone by now. When we went back out to the area in which I left the doll, sure enough, it was gone. I felt a little bummed out.

Later…

Okay, now on with Tom’s insulting raise. They raised him 98¢. I’m tired of seeing this man not get paid fairly. I totally believe, though, that no matter where he goes he’s not going to be paid what he’s worth. He even told them that he felt this was insulting. He’s now at $16.50 an hour, and he would’ve been more satisfied with something over $17. This is 2015, for fuck’s sake, and this is California, one of the most expensive states. To have gone from an income fit for the year 2001 to the year 2003 is better than nothing, but we both agree he deserves a lot better.

Anything’s better than being on unemployment and living in a dumpy old trailer, but it would be nice if society could let my husband “get with the times,” so to speak. So many people make 50K these days, but I guess being older and whiter doesn’t help. Just get tired of being the underdogs of our families.

There’s something not quite right, for example, about the fact that Alison just got a 2015 Beetle at 34 years of age and is unemployed while living with her parents. Meanwhile, my hard-working husband who is more than 20 years older drives a 2003 vehicle, as much as we do love it. Technically, we could get something brand-new right now but we choose to put our money into other things. But then there’s also the fact that my sister gets to live in a 9-year-old house that didn’t cost much more than this place and that has a much lower monthly payment, while we live in a 32-year-old place that’s rather expensive. It’s little things like that that bugs me at times.

Couldn’t resist the urge to play with Kathy yesterday. Dumb shit actually believed me when I tried to tell her that I didn’t know her or any of the people she mentioned.

In case I didn’t already mention it, I left a less-than-kind message on the family extermination business page. Strangely enough, it was ignored just like my messages to June, Lori and Lisa seem to be. So once again I’m wondering, is it a case of something out there not letting my words get through? Or did they really see them and choose to leave it there and not block me for some reason?

I’m back to being unsure as to whether or not my old doctor ever got her own messages from me. It’s like some people seem to get them and others don’t, so at this point I guess I would have to assume they did get the messages and figure that by blocking me they’re giving me a form of reaction they don’t want to give me. Why wouldn’t the doctor at least have the decency to either reply with a simple hello or let me know she doesn’t want to communicate with me, though? The fact that Braman never deleted my message may be because they’re leaving it as “evidence” and hoping I’ll leave more that they could use against me, knowing I’ve already been in trouble with the law, but I’m done with them. I also deleted the message I left on their wall now that it’s been seen (supposedly).

I asked Andy if anyone’s complained lately about messages not going through and he said no. It does seem to be a while since that was a regular problem. When I first messaged the doc, my message was sent to her “other” folder but then they started going directly to her inbox. If this is the case, then she was able to see and read the few chapters of the story I threw her in, figuring it wasn’t going through or was going to her “other” folder and would remain unseen for who knew how long, LOL. She must have been secretly dying for the rest of the story! LMAO! I just hope she didn’t tell my current doctors she got unwanted messages from me if that’s truly the case, but I am done with her as well. Using My Health’s notices was my last-ditch effort to get her to contact me. She never did. Time to move on.

I have a new regular coming into the blog in which its link is shared on my profile page there, but I can’t get a location on it. It seems to be a mobile device of some kind. I would suspect Lori, Lisa or June, only it’s a direct hit and not a Facebook referral.

Actually, I just got a view from Winters, Texas near Brownwood which is where Cathy lives, and my Google stats are saying that it was a Facebook referral. My other visitor that I can’t trace might have Googled in but I can’t say for sure. My guess is that Winters was Kathy. She spent nearly a half-hour combing my blog.

As usual, there has been an annoyance on both days this week so far. Yesterday they were digging something up at the park's edge, and today was landscaping as well as a loud healthcare truck that was idling for a while.

WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 5, 2015 Saw pictures of my sister’s new house and it’s absolutely gorgeous. It looks huge, too. Hard to believe I might be there in a few months, but we’ll see.

Lost 3 pounds in 8 days much to my surprise, but still don’t know that I will lose much more. It’s common to lose a little weight during the first week of a diet, but I started this diet to be healthier and to feel more energetic, so that is still my main objective. If I do continue to see this scale drop, I will then sit down and make a list of the pros and cons as to why I should or should not continue losing weight, and yes, there are a few cons. I would have to get new clothes, my wedding ring wouldn’t fit, and the smaller I get the more I open myself up as a potential target for trouble.

On the flip side, I would be even healthier if I did lose about 25 pounds, my clothes would fit better as they usually do when we’re thinner, and I would have an even wider range of flexibility.

Yes, I know I would also look better, but looking better for society is not my goal in life. As a single 20-year-old it might have been but not now. There is nothing wrong with wearing a dress we like or styling our hair a certain way that we like, but I hate those who tweak their appearance for the sake of impressing others. If the person doesn’t like you for you, then the person isn’t worth it to begin with. Really, I hate that shit after the way my mother taunted me about my looks for so long whether I was fat or thin. It’s like she never truly loved me. Instead, I was little more than just a “cute” showpiece to her. Well, that is when I wasn’t being a huge enough burden to her for her to ship me off somewhere. Nonetheless, you get my point… If you don’t like how I look, then don’t look at me.

The first several hours of my day started off really tired thanks to the guy that chased me awake in my nightmares at four in the morning. The dream took place in what was either a high school or a college. I was in one of the rooms talking to my dad. He asked me a question and I answered in German before I left the building.

I then realized I was in nothing but a bra and panties. Deciding it was okay, I walked around the field where I spotted a group of young people in their late teens or early 20s. A girl was beating the shit out of some guy. The guy was down on the ground and she was kicking and punching him viciously. About half a dozen other girls and guys looked on as she continued to pummel him.

My purse magically appeared hanging from my shoulder and I considered pulling my smartphone out and calling the cops, not that they’re necessarily any less brutal. One of the guys noticed that I was watching the attack as I passed by and reentered the building from a different side. I tried to act nonchalant and like I just didn’t care what was going on, but as soon as I was out of view I broke into a run. Because I can run fast I got quite a ways down the corridor by the time I glanced back. My eyes hadn’t adjusted to the indoor lighting, but I could just about make out the silhouette of a guy rounding the corner and heading toward me. Not sure I could get safely locked inside a room or that I had the time or the chance to call for help, I decided to fight the guy if he tried to harm me, knowing I would probably win with all the working out I do. I can’t say what happened for sure, though, because I woke up at that time.

THURSDAY, AUGUST 6, 2015 Got caught up on my sleep last night and today I feel well-rested. I ended up sleeping about nine hours. I was amazed to see that I had dropped another half a pound considering that I went to bed a little higher than I have been. Can this really all be fat loss? Even though my period hasn’t come yet I have lost some water and I suspect that some of it is water loss. Nobody loses weight this fast unless they are sick or starving. My guess is that I will not lose more than maybe two more pounds, but time will tell.

What’s with all the German in my dreams lately? I don’t know if the airport I was at was in Germany or not, but there seemed to be German writing all around me. A woman then stepped up to me, held out a piece of paper and said, “Translate this to German.” I did, though I don’t know what it was, and then she said, “Gut.” I thought she was about to walk away then, but then she said, “Kommt,” and I followed her somewhere.

Then I was told by someone that the police raided my music library on my laptop while I was out and took 37 songs, claiming that I stole them. Some girl asked, “What are you going to do? Pay for them?”

“No,” I said as lawsuits and money went through my mind. “They were never stolen. Instead, I’m going to make the cops sorry they messed with me.”

A few seconds later someone was fitting me with an ankle bracelet with a GPS tracker, which I refused to wear. They said, “But everybody’s required to wear these now in case they get lost or kidnapped.”

Then I started to wonder if I was on probation again or something, and went to call Scot to find out. Realizing it was too late in the day to reach anyone, I hung up and said, “Fuck it. I didn’t do anything wrong and therefore I’m not going to play the probation game, report to anyone, pay fees, etc.”

Then I was sitting at the built-in desk in our laundry room talking on the phone to a woman who was really into me. I didn’t like her much because she was pushy, jealous and paranoid. It was late at night and Tom was asleep. I glanced to the left and realized the bedroom door was open. Not wanting to disturb him, I told her to hang on a moment and went to close the door. Only instead of crossing through a small bathroom to reach the door, I was in a large carpeted area. There was a door next to the bedroom, too. When I returned to the phone, I found the woman had hung up on me, not liking that I put her on hold.

Later…

Before blocking Kathy once again, I checked her wall and noticed a bunch of comments from Kim that I missed before. She was bashing me and accusing Aly and me of talking about her behind her back. Yeah, that’s paranoid Kim for you. She and her false accusations!

While Aly isn’t ready to dump Kim, she and I agree that we’re not going to get caught up in the drama all over again. We re-blocked Kathy and that’s the way it stays. Kind of surprised she hasn’t contacted me on Ask since she has taken the time to check my blog. Thank God for that brat of hers hogging most of her time!

Got to admit I was a little surprised at how Kim was able to remember all the states I’ve lived in when she listed them off, but she still thinks I’m in Auburn.

In response to my message on the portal about notifications, Hot Doc had my account shut down there. I thought she might do this. Unfortunately, there was never any way to disable notifications or deactivate on our own.

As I said before, I can’t help but laugh at the thought of knowing that she probably did get my messages after all. At least the ones that went to her inbox. I noticed that after a few messages, they started going to her inbox instead of her “other” box. So she would have gotten the first few chapters of the book I sent her, and if she read them, then she’s probably sorry that they suddenly stopped. I myself would be frustrated and want to know how the story ended. LMAO! I just hope she hasn’t said anything to my current doctors. That’s an embarrassing thought, LOL. Maybe I’ll wish her a happy birthday next February.

FRIDAY, AUGUST 7, 2015 Decided to use a question I got as a writing prompt. The question was, “Do you believe the Lord will set you on the proper path?”

Well, I don’t know that there is a Lord, but I would definitely prefer to choose my own path in life. I know there are some people who say they have given their lives to the Lord when times get tough. Even if there was a Lord, to me that is like throwing your hands up and saying, “Fuck it. You handle it.”

With all the shit I see going on in the world, and knowing how it’s human nature to want to believe in magic, fairytales and fantasies… chances are any kind of a Lord or God is just a fantasy, so if my theory is correct, then what you are doing is giving up. If we don’t take the initiative to do everything we can to solve our problems, then who will? People can help us. People can encourage us. But in the end, it is up to us to take control of our lives, even though circumstances beyond our control do sometimes arise.

Anyway, I haven't even been up two hours and already I had to hear landscaping and motorcycles roaring through the place. Gimme a break!

On the bright side, I love that I can ask Amazon Echo's Alexa as many times as I want how much time is left till I can have my coffee (meds must be taken on an empty stomach), and she'll never tell me to stop asking so damn much.

My sister is moving into her new house today and I can feel her excitement as I remember exactly what it was like two years ago, even if the park turned out to be noisier than I expected. Adult communities just aren’t what they used to be. We can make all the noise we want as long as it’s in the daytime. On our way out to the grocery store yesterday, we learned what Monday’s racket was all about when they were digging just up the hill at the edge of the park. They put a bench there. For what? So people can sit and stare at the street?

I feel as bad for Andy as I do happy for my sister. They moved his mother to a rehab center and she’s anything but comfortable. Sounds like they’re not very competent there. He’s stressed out and feels really bad for her, understandably. This is the kind of stuff that really scares the shit out of me and gets me wondering… who are we going to have when we get old and start having similar problems? As I’ve said before, we don’t regret not having kids. Life is challenging, hectic, noisy and expensive enough without them. But because we didn’t, we will be going it alone when our time comes and that’s a little scary because once we get to the point where we’re helpless and can’t make our own decisions, our lives will be in the hands of strangers that don’t personally know or care for us in the least, and are simply there for the money.

All my PMS symptoms have magically disappeared, but I never did get a period a week ago like I was supposed to. I also gained back 1 of the 3 pounds I lost, but that’s just life with Hashimoto’s. We lose a few pounds and then re-regain it, even if we keep on eating right and exercising.

SATURDAY, AUGUST 8, 2015 Where I was super excited last night, I am pretty damn annoyed right now. Fucking Bob is sawing again. I appreciate that he hasn’t done this since last fall but these houses are TOO DAMN CLOSE for this shit! Why can't people just have some basic common sense and common courtesy? How many months will this project go on? With all the distractions going on during the weekdays, I like to enjoy my weekends, so I really hate it when I am denied that chance. Motorcycles and other loud vehicles have been tearing through here and it seems I can only get real peace at night.

He did say he would let me know when he’d be doing “a lot” of sawing, so hopefully, this is just a one-time thing, but I doubt it. This cock’s in his 80’s for fuck’s sake, though! When’s he going to slow down? We have been nothing but quiet, considerate neighbors to them. Why can’t I get the same respect in return?

I have thought about complaining to the office (since he already knows how I feel about it), but since adult communities have abandoned all rules against loud sounds, they’re just going to tell me he has a right to do what he wants during the daytime hours, same as if we were in the mainstream. It’s either deal with it or beat his fucking head in with the damn instruments of torture.

When that house goes up for sale, I would literally pay the realtor to not allow anyone in there with loud power tools, motorcycles or mutts.

From now on, even though it’s a bit of a pain in the ass, I’m going to have to either work in the bedroom or laundry room during the daytime or blast the shit out of the sound machine.

The first thing I'm excited about is the huge $1000 Amazon shopping spree we just did to load up on both fun stuff and necessities for what will probably be the final time this year so we can focus on the next phase of the home improvements.

Tom got a Mac Mini since the big iMac I won him 7 years ago is starting to have problems, plus some other things. I got a cute fabric sticker of a white rat, a new toe ring (this time size 4mm), a purple dress, and a couple of collectibles.

The dress will go great with my purple sparkly shoes. The nude bronze erotic figurine will be my 8th one in that series, and the Asian doll is one of the most incredibly sexy and realistic dolls I ever saw. She's very expensive for just a foot, but she's supposed to be as flexible as a person and made of silicone with a metal skeleton. She has a gorgeous face, too.

The second thing I’m excited about is that I finally came up with a good app idea. Since my gift is with words and not numbers, Tom’s going to do the coding end of it while I do the testing end. It’s a home organization idea that I got. I get tired of not being able to find things, and it would be nice to be able to look something up on the app and have it tell me that the flashlight is in the bottom kitchen drawer, for example. Similar apps may exist, but so what?

The third exciting thing is that we might be dropping down into the Caribbean after visiting my sister! Nothing’s etched in stone yet and I’m not making this part of today’s entry public, but we were thinking we might go to the island we didn’t quite make it to when the storm prevented the ship we were on 8 years ago from docking. That would be the Turks & Caicos.

I had a dream last night that we were swimming in a very warm ocean with mild waves and blue waters that suggested it could be in the Caribbean area. Sarah was also in a dream as well, so hopefully these are signs that we really will see my family and go to the Caribbean within a matter of months. Sarah was brushing her hair in the dream and I marveled at how tall she was. She said that it was “healthier” to be tall, LOL.

SUNDAY, AUGUST 9, 2015 Gonna have to stop the Atkins diet or at least severely tweak it by adding some carbs due to my stomach being horribly bloated and gassy. It’s been terrible. No amount of weight loss is worth feeling this yucky. I swear every time I start a new diet I have a problem. I’m either too hungry to stand it or in this case, I’m a gasaholic. Fuck diets. There are plenty of ways to still eat healthy most of the time without dieting or going to any kind of extremes.

Not sure why I woke up a little congested this morning, but I am otherwise fine as long as this gas would just hurry up and back off. Tom said it may take a few days and that makes sense. He suggested I start having yogurts again because they’ve got stuff in them that’s really good for the digestive tract.

The diet was working, though, as is usually the case when you expend more calories than you consume. Only thing was that the Atkins diet left me less hungry so I could stand the calorie cuts. I doubt I would have lost much more than a few pounds because like it or not, low-cal or not, I still have I dead thyroid. For now, let’s just stay fat and not fart. ;)

An online friend mentioned adult coloring books, and I thought, oh hey, that would be a good idea. So since we’re getting a new toner cartridge for a laser printer anyway, I printed out a bunch of adult coloring pages containing a variety of things… fashion, flowers, animals, abstracts and patterns. I practically got a whole book’s worth.

Earlier I grabbed a 12-pack of colored twistable pencils from the grocery store. I’ll get a bigger variety from Walmart some other time. There’s no real purpose in this other than that I find it a bit relaxing. I mean I’m not going to send them to anyone and I’m not going to tape them on the walls or refrigerator. LOL

No noise from Bob today that I know of, but it wouldn’t surprise me in the least if I heard that damn saw next week. I’ve never known him to finish a project in just one shot. I just wish people would give me the same consideration I give them. I shouldn’t have to hear what’s going on with others. I don’t make them listen to me. The only time anyone around here would hear from us would be when we’re trimming or blowing.

I had a dream that I was at this strange little lodge. I actually stopped there because I was waiting for someone to pick me up in front. A male guest went into a room and closed the door behind him. Then a female manager or owner said something like, “Good, now stay locked in there until I can find out if there’s anything wrong with you.”

Then I looked up at a little screen on the wall and knew that if a green dot appeared that would mean the guy had never been a problem there before. A red dot appeared, however, and a speech reader read complaints about the person insisting they were hungry the last time they were there.

Not wanting to get caught up in any possible trauma, I decided to wait for my ride outside.

Later…

I’ve been a naughty girl again. I always look for ways to see things people don’t want me to see without breaking any laws. Well, since Maliheh blocked my account I had to go into Tom’s, but I found that if I type the words “photos of” and then the person’s name, I can often see photos of them that aren’t public.

Figuring that Maliheh probably doesn’t know about this trick, I couldn’t resist emailing her the pics and asking her why she sent them to me on other sites, LOL. Of course I never got a reply.

I decided that if I ever again decide to contact the bitch down in Arizona, I’m not going to go directly to her and it’s going to be a long time from now. Like another five years or so. Let her think she’s never going to hear from me again, then remind her of my existence. As I learned a long time ago, sometimes we have to do what we feel is right in our heart and not worry so much about breaking laws (within reason) or appearing childish because if we don’t and we keep that anger or feelings about a particular thing bottled up, it can really cause us to explode or at least eat at us at times. Although I will always hate her guts along with those that had a hand in screwing me, and I will never forgive her, I’m not as angry as I was in the past.

Still, I wouldn’t mind pointing out all the little bloopers her little friend made in their email to me pretending to be a cop. And if that really was a cop by some chance, and if I send a letter to someone on her friend list that she appears to be in touch with regularly and that’s an adult, what are they going to do, make a case against me for ��attempted” contact or something? They can’t charge me for what I didn’t say to her.

I’m still really surprised there was never any default warrant out for my arrest. I thought they would have gone to court and then put a Failure to Appear warrant out on me just like they did in the year 2000.

In much better news, Tom and I were looking online at various cruise lines and their destinations and prices. The cruise that appealed to me the most is a 7-day cruise to Jamaica, Haiti, Mexico and the Cayman Islands. My only concern would be my schedule. It would be damn expensive too, but we could probably swing it. Nothing’s etched in stone yet but to think that I will be seeing family after more than 20 years, and flying, and cruising and going to more countries is pretty damn exciting. Going back to places I love like Maui is one thing, but I also like to add a new country to my list, too. Tom will just have to get a new passport since he stupidly lost his up in Oregon, LOL, unless someone stole it.

MONDAY, AUGUST 10, 2015 Not much to say today other than that some Muzzy tried to create a Twitter account using my email address. How the hell did they get the address in the first place? Either way, when I got the email confirming the account, I chose “not my account.” Twitter says they will remove it. Meanwhile, Nice try, asshole!

Aly said the name they used in Arabic means “fear God.” Aly knows Arabic, so I believe her. Also, the fuckers are obsessed with their imaginary Gods and other fictitious fantasies, so it only fits. But what she found weird was the fact that they don’t usually use the word God. Good point. They prefer to call their imaginary friend Allah.

My dying hormones and dead thyroid have finally kicked off my 10-day late period.

All I remember for dreams was having an endo appointment and oversleeping. I jumped out of bed just 15 minutes before my appointment.

Tom said something about her being young enough not to negotiate times, and I pointed out that she wasn’t that young.

Then a bunch of archaeologists was digging up bodies buried centuries ago. A woman told me that those who were just thrown into their graves with nothing would be long gone and no traces would remain of them, while those that had “protective coverings” would still be intact.

TUESDAY, AUGUST 11, 2015 I have sooo much to write about. Might do multiple entries tonight. I guess I will begin with today’s visit to my ENT doctor and the surprising thing I learned from her about prostatic ears. As anyone who’s followed me long enough knows, I was born with my left ear deformed and the canal was fused shut. As a 10-year-old in 1975 in Boston, they built an outer ear via plastic surgery but it never looked realistic. When I was 29, the frame poked through the skin. They dismantled the frame and drilled an ear canal and I even got a little hearing on that side. A decade later it became a problem because the surgery caused excessive scarring and nerve damage, but the surgery was necessary to make sure I had no tumors.

Quick fact: My parents should’ve left me the hell alone to be the way I was meant to be, but today I am living with the consequences of my mother’s quest for the perfect-looking daughter, which means occasional aches, pains, and regular trips to the ENT doc since it can’t shed dead skin on its own. I don’t know, maybe part of them really did think they were doing me a favor in the long run, but I think it was more that they were obsessed with appearances. They were just like that.

The older I have gotten, the more of an I-don’t-give-a-shit attitude I have adopted, partly thanks to people like them and the ordeal I went through as a ward of the state in my late teens. When I was young I felt like I was forced to be as pretty as I could, and like I’ve always said, it’s okay to wear a dress you think is pretty or style your hair the way you think looks best because YOU want to, etc. But you know what? I’m not a showpiece. I’m just Jodi. In other words, I’m fat and I don’t give a damn. I’d give a damn if I was severely obese, yes, but not because of how others would see me. Meanwhile, just because most of the world would freak out over 25 extra pounds doesn’t mean I have to as well, and I don’t. I try to eat well and exercise most days and let fate do the rest, hypothyroidism or not.

My point? After going through so much hell in life physically, it has taught me the value of health and feeling above looks and appearance and how much more important it is that we’re healthy and that we feel good. So no, I also don’t give a damn who may look at my ear, which really only consists of a misshaped lobe these days, and says, “Ew, gross!”

You don’t like it, don’t look. Simple as that. :)

Despite the fact that I have become less appearance-conscious with age and have been through enough medically, I couldn’t help but be intrigued and curious about the prosthetic ear she says they could make for me. She said the person she would need to talk to was on vacation at the moment, but that she’s going to get information for me. Since I’ve been through so much medically and since I’m older, I probably won’t go through with it. I’m sure I would be a lot more interested if I was still in my 20s, but we’ll see. Still doesn’t hurt to find out all I can about it.

My first question and biggest concern was what problems may it cause me a decade or so later. Not all procedures are a problem right away if they’re going to be a problem. She said, however, that couldn’t be a problem. I might not even need “surgery” to do it. I guess because they would be working on the outside and not the inside like when they made the canal. She said they would basically get rid of what’s left of it, make an exact replica of my good ear, and then I guess it attaches with skin glue or something like that. Can’t deny that the idea of a detachable ear seems a bit strange to me, but it would be pretty neat to look in the mirror and see two normal ears and to be able to wear earrings again. I haven’t been able to wear earrings because of the way the lobe on the bad ear has kind of curled upward over the years. Again, I probably won’t do it, but if I do it I will do it for me and me only. That is the one area in life I promise to be forever selfish in is when it comes to my appearance or anything about my body. I can’t say no to Hashimoto’s and just throw my thyroid in the trash and be done with it, but I am certainly going to take advantage of what I do have control over. So once I get the information, I will decide if it’s worth the time and money this late in life.

WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 12, 2015 I forgot to say in my last entry that there was just a light layer of dead skin in the canal the doctor needed to remove and that was it. It’s felt much better since seeing her as there’s only so much I can do at home on my own without the proper tools and lighting.

The first thing she said when she entered the exam room was, “You look very pink today. Pink shirt, pink purse, pink toenails.”

“And my neon yellow fingernails go well with your outfit,” I told her. She looked skinnier this time around because she wasn’t wearing the white coat most doctors wear that makes them look bigger with its bagginess. She wore a long yellow/green skirt and a yellow top.

I usually have one or two of the lead characters in my books be based on someone I either know or have seen while most of the extras are fictitious. On the way out I commented to Tom on how much the doctor’s nurse resembled an imaginary character in my last book. He laughed and said, “How can someone look like an imaginary person?”

LOL.

So we get on the elevator to head down from the third floor when all kinds of people suddenly want to get on with us and box me in the back corner. I said, “Okay that’s enough. No more people. Close the door now.”

A couple of guys turned and looked down at me and laughed as if I were some cute kid.

After the 10 of us got off the elevator Tom and I went to Walmart to pick up our new glasses. We both like and don’t like our new progressives. My glasses themselves are gorgeous and I think they look better on me than my purple Candies. The only thing about them is that I am more aware of the crosswire between the lenses because they have to extend into the lenses themselves since they’re frameless. They don’t cause that “swimming” effect I got with a cheap pair I got through the mail years ago, but they’re not very good for the computer. As even Tom noticed, the writing appears to be curved and there’s only a little circle of print that is clear when you’re looking through the bottom part of the lenses. They’re borderline for my giant 30-inch monitor, but they’re not good at all for my MacBook Air screen. I’ll continue using my old ones for when I’m working on the computer, but the new ones are great for everything else. Love how they darken in the sunlight.

We can get new lenses every year and new frames every two years. Next year I’ll have them pop the lenses out of my Candies and replace them with the same non-progressive style that they’re currently in. They have little round bubbles on the bottoms and that’s what I look through when I’m seeing things close-up. No more designer frames, though. You can only put progressive lenses in them. There are still plenty of nice frames that aren’t as bold as my clunky Candies.

While we were at Walmart, I looked for some adult coloring books and didn’t find any. Sure found a nice battery-operated pencil sharpener and a whole lot of mediums in which to color, however. Colored pencils and gel pens in metallic, glitter and neon. It’s a relaxing thing to do when I can’t sleep but don’t have any energy for anything else. I printed some out and eventually, I’ll get the Secret Garden a friend recommended to me with my survey money. They’re only a few bucks. Think I’ll grab some chocolate incense while I’m at it.

On the way out of Walmart, they had a little collection of bamboo plants at the checkout in three or four different color vases with matching orchids. The little stem of orchids is fake, of course, but it gives the bamboo a splash of color. I got a dark pink vase with purple orchids.

We grabbed a bite to eat at Carl’s Jr. on the way home. I got chicken strips, which I couldn’t finish.

My purple dress arrived and it’s great except that I wish it were an inch or two shorter. I wanted to wear it with my purple sparkly shoes, but on flats, the back of it just brushes against the ground. Up on heels, even if they were not very high, it would be fine.

My 8th bronze figurine from the erotic series (not sure of its name) arrived, too.

As anyone who has ever been through a traumatic event knows, working through PTSD can take time. Two nights ago I finally got up the nerve to venture a couple of miles on my bike alone after what happened to me last year. Until now I have either been staying close to home or not venturing far unless Tom was with me. I’m still not going to go out after dark anymore by myself since the last thing I want to do is have a spill when no one’s around. I realize I was taking a chance in doing so before. All I have to do is miss a speed bump or hit a possum or a skunk to throw me. Getting a flat going down the hill wouldn’t be fun either. If something were going to happen to me, I’d rather it be when people are around.

Anyway, the first time out I felt slightly nervous when I realized I had gone over a mile away from home, so I cut it a bit short, and my worst problem that night was almost colliding with another biker. LOL

Yesterday I rode over 2 miles with no problem. Just a turkey that teased me by making it look like he was going to jump out in front of me only to change his mind at the last second, then someone’s mutt let me have it later on as I went by.

I mentioned to Andy that I had an ENT appointment, and what did he say about it when I got back home? Nothing, Absolutely nothing. Never asked me how it went or anything.

I told him he might want to check out my entry about the prosthetic ear and he totally ignored me. That is just so typical of Andy.

THURSDAY, AUGUST 13, 2015 Played around for a bit with a photo editor called Lunapic. They have an option that allows you to turn digital photos into coloring pages. They also do a lousy job with most of them by leaving out a lot of details. The fewer objects you have in the picture and with more contrast, the better it does.

Anyway, I would write more but I’m getting pretty tired. I’m going to watch my show, read a chapter in my book, and then crash.

FRIDAY, AUGUST 14, 2015 Another short and sweet entry because there really isn’t anything new going on. I don’t remember last night’s dreams and all is still running smoothly here. I’m doing my usual things… Proofreading/editing my last book, taking care of the house, getting little treats on Amazon with survey money (I just got some chocolate incense), working out, keeping in touch with friends, etc.

Still haven’t heard from my sister since she moved into her new house. Hopefully, her silence is only because she’s busy and not because she’s sick or something else is wrong.

I have been hunting for wallpaper to decorate blogs with and other things. Desktop Nexus is definitely the best site for that. I just wish I had a way to view them on their site in a similar way that you can view photos on Facebook. You have to expand each of your favorites separately and then go back to your favorites list to select the next one. You can’t just click through them like you can with Facebook photo albums. Their selection is huge, though, and they have a lot of awesome pictures.

SATURDAY, AUGUST 15, 2015 We’re having another spell of triple-digit temps. Planning a swim for tomorrow evening since the water should be nice then. At that time I wouldn’t expect many other people to be there either.

I’ve been working hard throughout the week so I am making a point of having a leisurely weekend. I still did some work, including on my book as well as the laundry.

We should know more about the good news I haven’t made public by the end of next month. It’s not so much that it won’t happen but more of a question of how.

Tom’s going to spend the weekend coding the app. It’s one of those things that’s either going to make us money or it’s not. He’s going to be the coder and I’m going to be the tester as well as the one that comes up with a lot of the ideas, suggestions and details to design and function. He realizes that despite the limited time he has with all the hours he works, the only way to get it done is to just do it.

It’s a lot like writing a book. It’s very hard work and you probably won’t make a dime at it no matter how good your story and writing may be. But you either write it or you don’t. It’s that simple.

My parents were alive in my dreams last night and I went to live with them. They seemed like they were in their 50s and 60s. We lived in a long ranch-style house with a bedroom at each end. My parents were watching TV in the living room in the center of the house and my mother, who sat further into the room while my dad sat by the doorway, ordered me to be quiet. But I couldn’t help but point out when the news came on that I lived less than a minute away from this house where a murder took place in another state.

Then it was nighttime and my parents were out somewhere. I entered my bedroom to find one of my figurines facing backward. I figured my nosy mother had been checking it out. I giggled to myself at how pissed I used to be as a kid when she’d nose around in my shit, but I didn’t care anymore what she did.

Then I went out into the kitchen when I suddenly became aware of a few voices. I heard two or three people talking and an occasional peel of laughter. I walked down the hallway and into my parents’ semi-darkened bedroom. Straight across the room from the doorway was a window. I looked out and into the backyard next to us to find three adults chatting. I was glad that wasn’t my bedroom.

SUNDAY, AUGUST 16, 2015 I realize that there is no reason I can't write about the exciting thing we’re researching and planning and hoping to do probably sometime in January on Prosebox because my family doesn't follow me here. They follow my Blogger blog. It wouldn't be the end of the world if my family found out about it because it's not like we haven't talked about visiting each other. I'm referring to my sister who I haven't seen since 1992, and her daughters. She basically knows that she has to take a few months to get settled in her new home, research the hotels around her, etc. What she doesn't know is that we're thinking of going on a cruise after spending a couple of days visiting her. Yeah, that's the exciting part. We just hesitated to bring it up so soon because there is always a chance, however slight it might be, that we can't make it to her this year. Or better yet, next year.

I actually won a 7-day cruise with Holland America cruise lines back in early 2007 that featured country singer Delbert McClinton, which I'd never heard of until I was notified that I was the grand prize winner, LOL. The cruisers would run into him on and off throughout the ship, and there I was having my picture taken with him in the elevator at one point and feeling like a total idiot because I didn't know the guy from a hole-in-the-wall. I just wanted to win the damn cruise, and I did.

Back in those days, I was a "professional sweeper." There wasn't much competition at the time and I won things regularly. I won everything... trips, cash, vehicles, electronics, musical instruments, clothes, food, books, CDs, gift cards, and so much more.

Looking back on it, it is easy to see that Tom and I have made a habit of taking adventurous vacations as opposed to relaxing ones. We're pretty much always on the go when we vacation. It was that way in Vegas, it was that way in Laughlin, it was that way in Hawaii, and I'm sure it will be that way in the future.

After returning from the cruise, I actually found myself a bit disappointed because I considered it kind of hectic and stressful... Until life turned up the terror a notch or two when we went through the hell we went through during our first few years in Cali, not knowing if the economy was going to kill us or not. I remember saying to Tom how much I wished to hell that oh-so-stressful vacation was our worst problem in life. Sometimes when you hit rock bottom you look back on something you thought was rough and you realize it was actually kind of fun after all. In fact, it was a little more than kind of fun. I would have given anything to be back on that wonderfully spiderless private veranda writing away in my journal than wondering if we could afford another night in our cheap motel in the seedy section of Sacramento, or if we would have to find a parking lot to stay in for the night while our stomachs rumbled with hunger. Those pesky housekeepers and that never-ending supply of food that actually wasn’t that great would have suddenly been welcomed big time. Every stupid little thing seemed so exciting and fascinating at that point; remembering how I happily jumped up and down waving to all the perfect strangers that were cheering and waving on land as our ship pushed away from the dock… watching the little guide boat guide the ship out into the open seas…

I don’t know why, but the mixture of fun and scary memories brings tears to my eyes. Perhaps it’s because for a while there I seriously wondered if we would ever get the chance to do it all again. Then again, I never thought in a million years I’d get to sail the Caribbean, drop down to the ocean floor in the Pacific in a submarine, or do many of the things I’ve done, so that can make it all the more special and emotional. You go through what I’ve gone through and you don’t take things for granted.

The lesson learned in the end… the future can really change how we see the past.

The question now is which cruise line do we travel on and which countries do we go to? The last time we went to The Bahamas, Puerto Rico and we almost made it to the Turks & Caicos, but a storm prevented us from docking safely. This time I’m hoping to go to at least one new country. Tom’s been to Mexico before when he was with the Air Force as a trombonist, but I haven’t been there yet. Other possibilities include the Virgin Islands, Jamaica, Haiti and the Cayman Islands.

We know we would like an outside room. A suite would be nice but that’s a lot more money. Royal Caribbean seems to be the best ship from what our research has shown us so far whereas we’re least impressed with Carnival. So it’s not just the destinations and excursions we have to research, but what the ships themselves have to offer as well since we would be at sea some days.

My sleep issues and the thought of getting next to either some drunk adults or rowdy kids worry me a bit, but I think that one week – just one lousy week – even I could survive. And yes, cruises are wild. There weren’t many kids on the last cruise but I can tell you for sure that the adults were more obnoxious than the kids ever were. Cruisers tend to get drunk, loud and wild. As I said, we don’t sit on our asses with a bunch of comatose people when we vacation. We really live it up right along with the others who are just as excited to do the same thing.

A very happy birthday to my sister today! She’s 58. I hope she has loads of fun and posts pics of her new house soon.

I was telling someone the other day how I can’t imagine staying in the same place all my life, and she agrees. I can see settling down when Tom retires, but I’m still too young to be in my forever home. If we don’t make it to Hawaii, I think we should definitely retire in a cheaper state. I would want to do this whether we had family or not since his retirement money is going to be a set amount and not based on the cost of the state. It would be pointless to stay in California all our lives, even if we could afford it. So I think it’s safe to say that in my lifetime I will have lived in 6 different states. It will only be 4 for Tom. This is his second time living in California.

I had a dream last night that I won 2000 crayons, not that this would be exciting. Never really cared for those old-fashioned wax crayons.

Andy was also visiting in another dream. I was out somewhere and I returned to find him in the kitchen preparing dinner. He was slicing a 5-foot-long celery stalk, LOL. I glanced through the door of the oven and said, “Tom doesn’t like chicken.”

He said, “It’s not chicken, it’s turkey.”

MONDAY, AUGUST 17, 2015 At 11pm when it was cool enough, Tom and I went bike riding. It was beautiful out. The winds were calm and we rode fast. Just over 2 miles in 17 minutes. I did some running and strength training earlier, so I got a total of 30 minutes.

Since lowering my carb and sugar intake 2.5 weeks ago I’ve lost 4 pounds. Funny too, since I munched on a pint of coffee ice cream on and off throughout the day yesterday. Something’s definitely fired up my metabolism, though I still wouldn’t expect to lose much more.

Yesterday was Tammy's birthday and today’s her anniversary. I let her know we’re planning a vacation in early 2016 and would like to see her along the way. I told her we were considering a Caribbean cruise or flying to a resort and to let us know if she had any ideas or suggestions. Since nothing’s definite yet we also want to find out if any particular dates are bad for her.

It’s going to be stressful and hectic but fun and exciting. Some of the cruise ships have a lot more than the Westerdam ship we were on in 2007, including rock wall climbing! Jumping back 1 hour when we went to Hawaii was one thing, but jumping ahead 3 hours is going to be a little tougher.

I had a dream that one of my exes was living in a ground-floor apartment that was part of a long strip of apartments. I was riding my bike around the parking lot because it was spacious and I was curious as to what she looked like these days. Somehow I knew what she drove as well as where she lived and discovered her car wasn’t in its parking spot. Realizing the shy, quiet and insecure person was never my type anyway, I took off and decided not to bother waiting for her to return.

I also had a dream of accidentally stumbling upon a video of my PCP getting married. I thought to myself that her wedding gown looked expensive, and how her marriage had been arranged, even though they don’t typically do that in Ecuador.

TUESDAY, AUGUST 18, 2015 I LOVE how realistic and beautiful my new Asian Phicen doll is, but not at all happy that her arm broke so easily at the shoulder. Back to China she must go. The doll has a rubber silicone skin covering with a metal skeleton so there’s no way to pop the arm joint back into the shoulder because you can’t see what you’re doing. Another consumer mentioned breaking her arm too, but I just didn’t think anything of it. The joints are way too loose, though.

Another thing I don’t like is how she has interchangeable feet that I can’t change because I can’t pop the ball rotator joints out of the ankle in order to insert the other ones. One pair of feet is made for being in heels and the other is flat-footed. She has three sets of hands too, but those are simple enough to change.

Her face is very lifelike and beautiful and she’s way more realistically proportioned than Barbie and even my Tonner dolls. One customer’s review said that her hair appeared to be chopped off and randomly stuck on her head as well as too thin, but I don’t think so. It’s not too thin or thick, and the length appears to be pretty even to me, just below her shoulders.

Technically I could keep the doll because you can’t see the joint and the break doesn’t make her look disfigured in any way. She can still bend at the elbow and all she loses is mobility in the shoulder. I can’t set the arm straight down nor can I raise it. It has to be protruding from the body a bit, but it isn’t like it would look ridiculous. The point is that I don’t feel like this little 11” doll is worth the $96 we paid for her if she can break that easily. Now I’m afraid to move her other joints and the doll has 33 points of articulation. Better to just return her.

I saw a video of them repairing the arm of a life-size silicone doll on YouTube. You have to cut it open to fix it, then close it up with silicone glue. I don’t think it’s worth it on a doll that’s barely a foot tall.

I’m not too thrilled with my other purchases either, though they’re not worth returning. My chocolate incense doesn’t quite smell like chocolate. My toe ring isn’t as wide as I thought it would be, though it fits fine. And the fabric sticker of the white rat isn’t that great either. On a dark-colored door or wall, some of the color comes through and makes the rat look a funny color, yet it’s hard to see on a white wall.

WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 19, 2015 Brenda randomly came to mind the other night and I remembered that she said she had a daughter named Alicia. I looked up Alicia S on Facebook and found a nurse currently living in Florida who’s from Massachusetts. So I sent a message asking if Brenda was her mother and I never got a reply even though the account has been updated since I sent my message, leading me to once again wonder if my messages to Doc C ever went through any more than the ones to my cousins did. My guess is that there’s no relation. This woman was huge and blond and I didn’t see any resemblance. But still, wouldn’t she have at least taken the time to say she didn’t know the person if she had seen the message? The message never even appeared to be read, yet nothing popped up saying it was being sent to her “other” folder when I sent it, so I don’t get it. It’s like something up there is picking and choosing who gets my messages and who doesn’t.

Another thing I continue to be left to wonder is whether or not Andy is deliberately trying to annoy me at times with his fucking repetition, or if his brain really is that defective. Obviously, the first one would be the worst. Friends shouldn’t deliberately irritate those they consider friends, right? Yet this guy not only doesn’t seem to get it when I drop hints but not even when I spell it out bluntly for him.

It’s only been in the last few years that I can really understand my mom’s irritation with my own repetitious ways back when I didn’t have as much going for me as I do these days. Although I wasn’t hurting anything any more than he is, it does get old after a while no matter what the subject may be.

I told him yet again how tired I was of hearing all about his weight, meals and exercise routine day after fucking day. The guy is as obsessed with it as I was 25 years ago. Yet what does he go and do after we have this discussion? Says he wishes he had yogurt in the refrigerator. Meanwhile, we JUST fucking talked about this! How dumb can he be and how can that not be deliberate? If it isn’t, then he has a serious, serious memory defect. With all the pot he’s smoked, it’s possible, and while I can never know for sure if he’s really trying to annoy me or if he’s just that stupid, I suspect that a lot of the time he knows damn well what he’s doing. But fine. More repetition, less me. And I know he loves to play Ask when we're both online. Well, maybe if he’s smart enough to recognize a pattern (me checking in less often when he gets too repetitious) he will finally shut up about it or at least lessen it to a degree. As I told him, I’m not all or nothing on the subject. I don’t mind every now and then. It’s when I have to hear it all the time, especially after making it clear that I’m not interested and it’s getting old. But it does indeed seem that the more I resist something, the more determined he is to push it on me and that really bothers me. Like a waitress adding whipped cream to ice cream that I told her not to add.

Another thing that annoys me about him, and I told him this much, is that not everybody is just like him. Not all bodies and minds were created equal, yet he can’t believe there really are medical conditions that hinder weight loss because he’s never had this problem himself. And if he’s not happy with something a certain way, then how could anyone else be?

“Saying I shouldn’t be sad because some others have it worse is like saying I shouldn’t be happy because someone else might have it better.”

I couldn’t agree with the above statement more. To tell someone this is like devaluing their emotions and I personally find it rather offensive, not that anyone’s devalued my emotions lately. But they have in the past and I would always hate it when I would be told why I shouldn’t feel so bad when A, bad is bad enough no matter how bad that bad is, and B, we all have a right to our emotions.

Not much going on with me at the moment. I decided to keep the doll after all since the broken shoulder isn’t noticeable. She really is beautiful otherwise, and returning things is a pain in the ass.

I ordered an adult coloring book consisting of Japanese kimonos. It should be here tomorrow. Eventually, I’ll get a colored pencil holder.

Later…

Andy posted a picture on Ask of a dreamy-looking woman floating down a ladder of some kind in the clouds and wrote, “This is you going to bed.”

“But I sleep in just my panties and my hair in a ponytail,” I replied when I got up, and sure enough he said something like, “Well, it represents you going to bed, so go eat a cracker.”

Yeah, there’s that food mentioning again I told him I was sick of. Why is it that some people feel all the more compelled to do the things we ask them politely and kindly to please do less of? I can see if somebody demands or threatens that you do such and such a thing. That would make even me rebel, as that’s just human nature. But I can’t understand why some things are just so hard for some people when they’re asked and not pushed. Like the blacks in Phoenix… if I didn’t know any better I would swear I was asking them to torture their family members, and not to do the polite and considerate thing we all should be doing.

When I’m in the mood to write yet can’t think of anything new worth updating, I look at a list of writing prompts and randomly choose one. So how about negative people? I have no problem whatsoever with people coming to me who are down and out in life. I’ve been there before and I know what it’s like. But what really irritates me at times is when people are so quick to see the negative and not the positive. It’s annoying to go to someone with good news or something that I’ve accomplished or that I’m really excited about, and the first thing out of their mouths is everything bad about it or that could go wrong. Not “I’m happy for you” or “I’m proud of you,” etc.

I can totally understand people wanting to point out what could go wrong because they care about me and they’re just looking out for me, but sometimes it seems to go beyond reasonable caution and straight into downright negativity. Sometimes I’m left to wonder, are they really just looking out for me? Or does the negativity stem from their own personal misery? As they say, our attitudes are greatly influenced by our emotions and what’s going on in our lives at the moment. If you’re not feeling very well emotionally or physically, you’re not apt to see the glass as half full.

Time to get proofreading and editing my book. I hate this part of writing books! I also have to take my next Dutch lesson. I’m in the Reflexives section now and it is not easy. It takes about a year to get through the course if you’re consistent enough, and since I’ve been taking one lesson almost every day, I’m still hoping to get through the course by the end of the year.

Tot morgen!

THURSDAY, AUGUST 20, 2015 I’m sad for Aly now because her bone marrow biopsy shows that she has Leukocytosis. That isn’t leukemia so she won’t need chemo, but she will have to give her blood which they will reduce the white blood cell count in, and then put it back into her body. From what I read about it, you can get it from infections, which she’s had, and should basically be little more than a pain in the ass. Meaning it isn’t deadly.

Last night I dreamed I was in some strange classroom all by myself sitting at a desk with one teacher scribbling something on the chalkboard. She turned to me and said that she couldn’t go on because she couldn’t see the top of my ponytail, LOL.

I said, “How about if I raise it up?” and I took my hair out of the large elastic it was in and began to create a ponytail at the crown of my head instead of the nape of my neck.

She said that wouldn’t do, and then I was with her and some other people in another room. I was goofing off by taking my hair elastic and hooking it over my nose and then down under my chin. It was definitely a weird dream.

SATURDAY, AUGUST 22, 2015 Michael’s craft store opens at nine. I was surprised to find when I checked online that they don’t have any colored pencil holders. That’s okay because we're going to print one out with the 3-D printer sometime this weekend.

I noticed that my thyroid pills seemed a little bigger and darker in color. I'm going to have to check them out online to make sure they really are 75s. As scary as this may sound, everybody makes mistakes at times… even pharmacists. Well, anybody that’s followed my journal from last year knows that the last thing you want is too much thyroid hormone in your system, but if they screwed up at all, then my guess is that it’s a lower dose. I don’t think they really did screw up, but it can’t hurt to double-check. This time we got them from Costco instead of Sam's, so maybe their version of 75s looks different.

SUNDAY, AUGUST 23, 2015 The thyroid pills were fine, and they came from Walmart, not Costco. I forgot that we started picking them up there.

Anyway, yesterday pretty much ended up being a lazy day. I didn’t even go out anywhere. I almost skipped today’s entry because I just don’t have much to update on. I mean we were discussing our vacation. It’s getting close enough that we have to start planning the details. It would be ideal to fly to Florida, sail to Mexico from there, and then fly back to California from Mexico, but we don’t know if they do any one-way cruises.

He printed out a sample pencil holder with the 3-D printer, but the holes were too deep. He’ll get the measurements right, though, soon enough.

I’m public again on Twitter. I figured anything personal could be exchanged in DMs.

MONDAY, AUGUST 24, 2015 Tammy posted a video of her new house, and wow! It’s almost too huge for two people, but it’s modern and gorgeous. She hasn’t been in the greatest health, though. Last night’s dreams weren’t very good either, but I’ll get to that in a little bit.

Went to Raley’s yesterday as well as to Goodwill in search of what treasures they may have since it had been a while since we’d been there. He loves to check out the electronics while I check out the decorative stuff. He found lots of goodies but didn’t get anything because he just never has enough free time to play around with stuff. I found nothing at all. None of the dolls, figurines or other items appealed to me in the least, but I did grab some of that incense I keep swearing I’ll never burn with the mess it makes.

Took yesterday off from riding due to my knee hurting me, went riding earlier, and now it’s hurting again. I should’ve listened to Tom when he suggested letting it heal. So now I’ll be limping around all day. :(

I visited Norma in one dream I had last night. I entered her place and not only was her living room floor covered in grass, but it was very dim in the room and I could barely make anything out. I hugged Norma and said how I never thought I’d see her again. Milt was standing behind her and appeared to be two feet taller. Norma felt surprisingly weak and frail despite seeming to be strong and fit in real life.

Then I had a very vague dream about something bad happening to my sister (probably health-wise) when she was 62.

Then I was in a room listening to music through headphones when someone came into the room and I said in Spanish, “¿Es tiempo ya?” This means, “It’s time already?”

In the last dream, I called in a refill for beta-blockers and Skyped Tom to ask that he pick them up after work.

That would be a very bad thing if I ever had to take those regularly with the way they leave you so cold and sluggish. If I had to take them that would mean my heart was doing things it definitely shouldn’t be doing. I only had to take one once.

Later…

Remember? Remember when you used to write just for yourself? Yeah, this was what I was asking myself recently, and you know what? I definitely do miss writing for myself without censorship. I still love to share more generic things online, but I really should write more for myself and then edit it to make it online-friendly as opposed to mostly doing just online-friendly entries.

I decided that from now on the three blogs that I use right now will have online-friendly entries, but on LiveJournal and Prosebox I will also have private entries mixed in. I would make LJ all private, but I do have a regular there. Why deprive them of their reading pleasure, right? LOL

Anyway, I thought I would do a private entry to ponder and to vent. I still ponder over whether or not certain people got my messages on Facebook. I hate not knowing for sure. Just when I'm sure that they did get them, then I don't know what to think. It's hard to believe that many people are unaware of their ‘other’ folder or don’t check it. So I don't know if they're sitting in their other folder, never went through, or if they’ve been read. Stuff that's been seen doesn’t always appear to have been seen, and sometimes that feature only works for a little while. People can also opt to mark things as unread, making it appear like it's never been read. Never has there been a site with such unreliability and guesswork.

Now let me do some bitching about Andy. I really wish the guy had less free time, although I don't know if that would change anything. I'm finding him more annoying than fun lately, and that can't be a good thing, can it? I still hesitate to dump him because I don't know how he'll react. Maybe he will respect my wishes and stay away, or maybe he would stalk and harass the shit out of me. That's not what worries me as much as how it would affect him. He would be devastated and I don't want to hurt the guy. So I'm kind of torn right now between thinking of how he would feel and wanting to give myself a break from him.

Sometimes I try to think of ways to dump him without actually dumping him. Like telling him I think I'm going to prison for many years or something like that. The only problem with that would be Norma. She's our one and only mutual friend and he would see our interactions with each other thanks to Facebook thinking that friends shouldn’t have privacy from their other friends. I could tell Tammy what I was doing and she would cover for me, but I would never put anyone else in the middle of anything that would no doubt make them feel uncomfortable.

I just get tired of him assuming everybody thinks and feels the way he does. He just can't accept that not all minds and bodies are created equal. If he's obsessed with weight loss then he assumes everyone else is as well. I don't get him at times. It's like he wants to stand out and be unique, yet he lumps everyone together and assumes they all equate to him and vice versa.

If he doesn't understand something, then it's either all wrong or it doesn't exist. I get sick of his attitude at times too, and his negativity. It's like he thinks his ways are the only correct ways… his lifestyle, the way he eats... everything.

I also get tired of the immaturity and all the fucking repetition. He can't even go a day without mentioning food. Not just on Ask, but also on Facebook. He is horribly obsessed with it. How does he expect to lose 75 more pounds when all he does is eat, breathe and live food? If this is all that’s on his mind, he’s not going to have an easy time of it. He’s about to go from annoying to a bit of a concern with this food obsession.

Last night I started reading a post about his latest trip to his dentist and I thought to myself, finally, a post without food! But sure enough, he morphs right from the teeth to the food. Everything with him is about food, eating, cooking and exercise. They used to be about celebrities and God, not that he still isn’t into that. Who knows what he'll be fixated I'm next?

I seriously wonder if he’s intentionally going out of his way to annoy me. IDK, maybe deep down in his subconscious, he is hoping I will dump him? Some people are like that. They want to end the friendship but they don’t want to be the one to do it, so they do something to get themselves dumped.

Then there's that good ole stupidity and his memory issues, intentional or not, that drive me crazy. I realize he hasn’t changed since Arizona. Yes, he’s got his own business even though he doesn’t make shit, and yes, he has his own condo even if it was given to him and it’s noisy there, but Andy as a person is still the same old person he always was. He just doesn’t smoke or do drugs.

TUESDAY, AUGUST 25, 2015 Thought I’d blog a bit while I backed pics and doc files up on my Amazon Cloud. Our tentative travel plans are this: Sometime in January, we’re going to fly to Fort Lauderdale on a weekday when it’s cheaper and rent a car to drive up to Tammy's place. Then we’ll drive back down to Fort Lauderdale in a couple of days because that’s where most of the cruises depart from. Most of them depart on weekends, too. From there we will sail to Mexico and then back to Fort Lauderdale where we will then fly back to Sacramento.

Tom printed out the first of the colored pencil holders and they’re awesome!

WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 26, 2015 Saw my sister’s place on Google Maps and it is absolutely gorgeous! Palm trees galore, green grass everywhere. Love how curvy her street is as opposed to the typical straight street in the West. I’d miss going down the “rollercoaster” here on the bike, but the flatness of Florida would make riding a bit easier. It’s cool that these days we can see places before we actually see them. I’ll recognize it as our rented car goes cruising up her street. Being on the corner helps, too. Love that no one can pull up alongside her place, but I wouldn’t want to live that close to the clubhouse.

Wish I could know beforehand if living in either Florida or Hawaii would give me allergies I couldn’t tame with a simple OTC remedy as has turned out to be the case with her. Oh well. I’ve got about 12 years before I find out.

I should find out, however, the dates and details of our vacation in a few weeks. There’s what I want and then there’s what’s best. I want to take the cruise that hits Jamaica and a couple of other countries besides Mexico, but it’s best to just sail to Mexico and back given my sleep issues. As it is, even a shorter cruise means cutting my visit with Tammy really short, but I’m sure she agrees that just seeing each other after what will be nearly 24 years is more important than the length of our visit.

Anyway, when I went out to mail Andy a couple of the kimono colorings on Monday, sure enough, Bob was right there. He was washing the SUV. I told him we were planning a vacation. Wonder if he’ll put our trash out while we’re gone like he did when we went to Maui. It doesn’t matter either way, though.

Went out bike riding after 3am when it was pleasantly cool and dry, and there was even a car driving through. That oughta tell you just how active this park is in the daytime.

My heart got a little racy and was beating a little hard for a while when I was coloring yesterday. I also felt a little warm. But because I’ve gotten to be an “experienced sufferer,” even though I was far from suffering, and “good” at this sort of thing, I didn’t panic or anything. Still, it was annoying and I wonder what it was all about? Did I go pocket-flaring again? Could it have to do with menopause setting in? Something else?

Yesterday the connection was the most Auburn-like since we've been here, cutting in and out like crazy.

I had a dream I was walking down a street that was lined by a canal or something like that. Some guy came racing by on either a scooter or skateboard. He started to turn down the wrong road since we were at a fork in the road, and when he quickly turned to go the other way he nearly fell into the water.

Then I started to jog down the street, tripped over the curb and into the dark murky water. I woke up trying to figure out how to get out of the water as I searched for something to pull myself up with.

THURSDAY, AUGUST 27, 2015 Let’s see… Bob was loud for the second time this month, part of me wishes I could move to my sister’s park, and Tom will be home early today. They’re having a party he doesn’t feel like attending. Sometimes he attends, sometimes he doesn’t. I guess this one just doesn’t excite him for some reason.

Since non-stop running can get boring, I’m doing sprints every half hour on the treadmill where I will run for a minute or two at a time. It adds up over the course of the day.

I had a dream I was someplace that seemed similar to Valleyhead, which means I was probably there against my will. Especially since my dream self thought it was a good thing that I was finally adjusting to accepting where I was. Someone asked me if I wanted to attend some dance with them and a bunch of others. I said I’d love to but that I had visitors.

No change in Lori or Lisa’s Facebook accounts, but June might have gotten my message because I suddenly can’t see anything on her page. I’m surprised she didn’t just block me. This still doesn’t mean, for example, that Doc C got my messages. They still might not have gone through or they might be sitting unread in her other box. Truthfully, though, I haven’t heard any complaints about messages not going through on Facebook in a while, so that leaves the other box, or her seeing it and then marking it as unread.

Back to Bob. Yeah, he started his shit for the second time this month. Really worried that it’s going to escalate from here to every week or biweekly because this was the time last year that it escalated until I talked to him in October.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in life it’s that the only way to solve problems with people is to take care of it yourself. You can’t depend on others (Joy) to help you. And I WILL put a stop to it if it escalates as I’m sure it will. I just don’t know how I’m going to go about it just yet without smashing his toys over his fucking head.

I don’t care how long he’s been here, I don’t care how nice he is otherwise… making such loud sounds unnecessarily when you’re so close to other homes is rude. But I’m through asking neighbors to quiet down (or in this case not use things that make such loud sounds). Asking politely doesn’t help and neither does screaming at them, threatening them, giving them ultimatums, or going to a third party. Only I can do something about it. Seriously, I’m the only one that can make it stop. He’s not going to stop on his own until he’s dead or disabled, and no one else is going to make him stop either.

I am just so sick and fucking tired of getting next to the noisier people in life and I will never again live where there's a garage or driveway so close to us. Ever. Most others around here are quiet and respectful and I don’t see why he can’t give us the same respect and consideration we’ve given him and his wife. We never make them listen to us. The only time he hears from us is when we’re landscaping.

He did say he’d let me know when he was going to be doing a lot of sawing (oh God), but I don’t know how well his memory works, and not everyone does what they say they’re gonna do anyway. If I knew it would only be once or twice a month for an hour or two… fine, I could live with that. But I don’t know. That’s part of what makes it so damn maddening.

I really thought garages would be a good thing as they provide a bit of a buffer between the houses, but I had no idea that they were going to go using them as workshops. I’ve only seen one person use the carport for woodworking. All the others were in garages.

Tammy's lucky. Nothing but houses and grass where she is. My only concern would be visiting brats screaming up the storm on the greenbelt behind her place and being so close to the clubhouse. She’s only been there three weeks but she says it’s very quiet and she never hears motorcycles or car stereos. I don’t know about individuals taking care of plants and stuff around their homes, but the grass is mowed throughout the entire area just once a week. There are no really loud blowers because their trees don’t lose leaves the way ours do.

I just think it’s pretty sad to know that I still have to blast sound machines if I don’t want to hear the shit that goes on around here during the daytime. Yes, some days are quiet, but not nearly as many as I would have thought and would have expected for being in a retirement community. A fucking 80-something-year-old man can be just as noisy as a screaming toddler or a 20-something-year-old welfare bum.

Life in general has gotten noisier and the park recognizes this. Therefore noise is just as accepted here as it is in the mainstream as long as it’s not at night, and they even started allowing motorcycles here. Kind of makes you wonder what the point is of having a retirement community, but I guess what matters most to people is being around people their own age. Next thing you know, though, they’ll be allowing mutts over 25 pounds. Then they’ll be allowed to toss them outside.

I’m just sick of the cock neighbors! Males make the worst of neighbors, not that all my female neighbors have been quiet in the past. But the females rarely use loud power tools. The only ones I’ve seen/heard making noise around our home and in other parts of the park were males only.

I don’t want Bob to die or fall ill since he’s quiet otherwise and his wife is always quiet, but I sure wish he’d get sick of the woodworking.

FRIDAY, AUGUST 28, 2015 Did a paid survey in Spanish and created my own survey to get thoughts and opinions on my writing, which I always value. I mean I’m still going to do what I’m going to do, but other people’s input is still nice every now and then. I am always curious about how they understand/perceive my writing. After I saw someone create their own survey on another subject on Survey Monkey, I decided to do the same.

I don’t usually discuss food in my entries because so many people run that subject into the ground (along with a few others) and I get sick of it. I don’t mind hearing about exercise routines on a daily basis, but food talk can get old at times, not to mention make me hungry sooner than I might have normally been.

But Lay’s Biscuit and Gravy potato chips are awesome! Aly mentioned liking them on Twitter and I thought they might be an interesting flavor to try. I like them better than Tom does. He thinks he will like the other flavors better. They’re fattening, unhealthy, and they give me zits, so I don’t have chips very often. I do sometimes indulge in sweet treats on weekends, but I rarely do salty things, bread, pasta, potatoes or rice.

Life with Hashimoto’s is all about fighting to keep the scale from climbing. As I would tell anyone new to the disease, forget losing. Your life mission is now all about keeping from gaining, and even with diet and exercise, it’s going to be a lot of work!

SATURDAY, AUGUST 29, 2015 This cute kid in France on Ask said this when I asked him if he’d ever been to California:

‪No, but I would very much like to go. I understand California is a mighty pretty place. California is so far away, and they have those giant mosquitoes. If I go to California, the first thing I want to do is go surfing. ‪The population of California is 29 million. California isn't home to all of us. I have often heard the description that California is a country all of its own. California is the place I gotta be. California is the Garden of Eden, a paradise to live in or to see.

‪LMAO! Now should I burst this poor kid’s bubble and remind him of the ugly side of California? The drought, poverty, overcrowding, crazy cost of living, insane traffic, and other madness that exists here, etc.

For just $5 total I ordered this pink to purple hair extension on Amazon. Andy said I’m too old for that hair color. It’s true that younger people look better with unnatural colors in their hair – well, some of them – but must we put an age limit on trying new things just for fun? Some would say he’s too old for his Fireflies tour role-playing game, but is he really hurting anyone or anything? “Normal” is so overrated and I wish more people would just be themselves instead of trying to either blend in or stand out. Just who are all these people we think we need to impress and put on a show for anyway?

And how can some people say they stand for equality yet don’t believe gays should have the right to marry? Isn’t that like saying you’re too hot and then reaching for a jacket? This Iranian woman on Twitter was telling me she believes in equality, just not same-gender marriages. So then she doesn’t believe in equality. Equality doesn’t mean providing basic human rights to some while denying it to others. It’s okay to dislike or even hate certain groups, but why deny them the right to marry or any other basic human right?

Kinda pissed off that only 4 people did my survey. Tammy, Aly, and what I’m guessing was either Norma or Andy, plus what was probably a Prosebox hater by the way they deemed my stories as “disgusting trash.” LOL

Meanwhile, over 40 people took this other blogger’s survey on cheating. I guess it’s more of a fun subject than answering questions on someone’s writing/journal.

The only thing that shoots down a Prosebox hater is that Texas appears to have been in around the time that one took the survey. Do I have any haters there from Texas? Or could Kathy or Molly be behind it? Maybe Kim? Kim could have linked into it from Twitter. The Texas visitor wasn’t near where Kathy and Molly are, so I’m guessing Kim or a Prosebox hater. Canada’s also on my list and a user going by “deleted user” might’ve been the one since the only other two I can think of that I’ve had problems with there are in New York and Michigan.

I’ve also shared the link on Blogger, LiveJournal, and Facebook, but I find it hard to believe that a Facebooker was behind that one. It could be anyone from anywhere, but they definitely had to have seen my tweet or one of my blogs in order to get to it.

SUNDAY, AUGUST 30, 2015 Everybody’s all excited about the coming fall and cooling temps. I’m not the least bit excited about the idea of being cold. When we got up this morning it was 73° inside the house and even that’s too chilly for me. Hard to believe it’s getting up into the 90s today, but it is. Dry climates are like that… the temp can be toasty in the daytime, then drop like a rock at night.

The trees are just starting to turn colors and lose their leaves, making a mess of the roads and calling for more sound annoyances (blowers). Every time I hear a pop as I’m riding over twigs or parts of pinecones I worry I blew a tire.

It was still a great day for riding. The sun was warm while the breeze was cool.

Went to Michael’s craft store yesterday and got a few adult coloring books. One has tessellated designs, one has oriental designs, and another has fashions, both modern and not. Got a few new mediums to color with too, that I’ve never tried before. I like the glitter markers, but the metallic pencils aren’t anything to brag about.

Today we went to Raley’s, which was utterly freezing, and I grabbed a couple of bags of Miracle Noodles. One’s fettuccini flavored and the other is spinach. It’s supposed to be 0 calories but still filling. We’ll see about that when I try them later on. I pictured dry noodles like Ramon noodles, but they’re in a squishy gel-like liquid. You’re supposed to drain them in a colander. It’s some kind of Asian pasta (shirataki). No calories, soy, cholesterol or gluten.

Last night I dreamed I was at my sister’s place and we were walking around her block with a guy she called Jeff. She and Jeff wanted to walk leisurely, but I wanted to jog, so I ran around the block until we crossed paths and Jeff called out “hi” as I passed them.

“Jeff said hi to you,” Tammy said, knowing I tend to be anti-social, but not knowing that I still observe things going on around me. I see. I hear. I just don’t always speak. But Tammy didn’t see me wave to Jeff while Jeff did, and he told her I waved to him on my way by.

Later…

We saw Bob and Virginia sitting in front of their place as we were finishing up our bike ride. Sure enough, not long afterward, Bob starts this loud, obnoxious, totally annoying hammering. And also sure enough, my husband is quick to defend him, saying he’s not being rude, that’s what people do, and our only option is to move.

No, there’s another option… for him to shut the fuck up. Seriously, I’m not moving. I’m through running from noise simply because people have no consideration for others. I haven’t done anything wrong and therefore I’m not moving. He may not do this shit every day, but now we’re up to 3 times this month, and that’s almost weekly. I don’t need to hear it and I don’t want to hear it!

He’s really putting a lot of stress on me. Once someone starts something at least regularly enough, then I have the stress of the anticipation hanging over my head, fearing he’s going to start his shit any second. I don’t know what I hate more, his hammering or his sawing.

This may be ultra-paranoid of me, but I wonder if I should have mentioned thinking of moving that day I let out my frustrations to Virginia when they turned the water off. Makes me wonder if they’re not trying to actually drive us out of here because they prefer older neighbors they can be friends with like the Ss, not that they’d necessarily get folks in their 70s or older here if this house were suddenly for sale. I just don’t have a very good vibe about him, and again, I’m the only one that can shut him up. Hope that’s not what I’m going to have to eventually do. I swear it’s like he’s slowly testing me like the blacks would after we’d lodge a complaint with the city.

Forget bitching to Tom, though. If I bitch about Bob, he bitches about me bitching about him. Seriously, he makes me feel like I’m wrong to feel annoyed by it… just like he has with all our neighbors. Had I been Bob in court back in 2000, would he have said, “I just want to see that he gets help?” Or would he have actually defended him because he wasn’t/isn’t his wife? Just wondering when I’m going to get the same defense he gives others. I’m sick of venting about someone just to have him either defend or make excuses for them. It doesn’t help and it doesn’t make me feel better. Should Tammy complain about me in Florida, not that I can see why she would, I hope I get that same fierce and automatic defense.

Just stopped and ran Bob’s name online again. Why didn’t I get this before? I not only see their previous addresses in Minnesota, which is where they’re from, but they also lived in Carmichael and Sacramento at one point. Also, she’s 82 and he’s 85, almost 86. So what do you figure… about 10 more years of this shit? Again, I don’t want the guy to die; I just want him quiet. I would actually worry if they died or moved because there are so many worse neighbors we could end up with over there.

Can’t believe they post all this shit on people for free. I didn’t even have to look hard for it. Really not sure I like all this info being thrown out there for all the world to see for little to no money at all. The name Tom is much more common than Jodi, but so far it looks like only old shit on us is available for free. Sooner or later our current address will hit the freebie scene, and again, I’m not sure I like that idea. If someone gets pissed at me online, what’s to stop them from finding our address, calling the cops, and saying I beat them up or threatened them? Or some other load of bullshit? You only need someone’s word, false or not, to convict someone. Prosecutor needs to prove you’re guilty? Wrong. You need to prove you’re innocent. So it’s not like I worry someone’s going to show up uninvited at the door, but more like use the law to spite us. Knowledge is power, and the more info you have, the more you can use it against someone whether they deserve it or not. Still, I’m not going to let it scare me offline.

So what happened to my lone LiveJournal reader? Scared off by the now visible tracking icon, or just busy?

MONDAY, AUGUST 31, 2015 Those Miracle Noodles were absolutely terrible. They smelled fishy when I opened the package, tasted horrible, and had an even worse texture. It felt like I was biting into a jellyfish since it’s actually a gel-like plant and not pasta. The stuff is worse than jail and hospital food and just totally gross. It also wasn’t the least bit filling and is way overpriced. Again, I’d rather just stay fat and eat real food even if it has real calories, too. Tom wouldn’t even touch the stuff, LOL. He said he wouldn’t even eat it if it would take away calories from his body. I’m still glad I tried it, though, because now I know what they’re like. I’ll try almost anything once.

I hope last night’s dream wasn’t a warning of any kind for me. It didn’t leave me with an ominous feeling so I don’t think it was. Either way, I stepped out of a vehicle in a large parking lot and it seemed like I was on my way to my dentist. The only thing that didn’t make sense was that it was nighttime and I was with three other people. All of a sudden I heard some shouts and maybe some loud sounds like firecrackers or gunshots. People started to panic. The three people I was with took off running toward a building and that’s all I really remember.

Saw Bob delivering what I'm pretty sure were veggies from his garden to other neighbors. Guess we only deserved some our first year here, LOL

[nearlynorth]

Day Two: Role Swap

Baz Pitch was thirsty. He hungered for blood, let his fangs slide out of his gums. He reluctantly drained rat after rat until he finally wasn't thirsty anymore. Until one day he wasn't.

——— Simon I'm cold. Why am I cold? This is the first time this has happened since my magic erupted, even after I lost it. I normally wake up twisted in my sheets, sweat soaking my pajamas while Baz sleeps beside me shivering. Something feels wrong.

I do a mental check of my body.

Feet. Check. Stomach. Check. Face. Check. Wings. Not there. Tail. Not there.

I sit up suddenly. My wings and my tail are gone. My last connections to magic, gone. Tears begin to leak out of my eyes as I cry silently. I don't want to wake Baz. He sleeps like the dead, which I guess is fitting, even though he's not dead. It's the point of one of our only arguments, the fact that I think that he's not dead. He insists that he is, the self-deprecating twat.

I look over at Baz, my panic momentarily forgotten. He's sleeping in an odd position under the blankets, it looks like he has a pillow underneath him.

I feel my stomach rumble, and I pray that it doesn't wake Baz. I watch him open his eyes, and just stare at me.

Baz I hear Simon's stomach rumble and I laugh quietly to myself. He must want scones. Simon is a bottomless pit, no matter how much he eats he could still keep going.

I shift uncomfortably. There is something poking at me, making it hard to lie flat. It's pushing me up from the mattress.

I turn to smile at Simon and I have to stop and stare.

He looks different. He's still beautiful but in a different way. He's still covered by those freckles and moles that I love, but his normally tawny skin is paler. And his wings, his wings, and tail are gone.

I sit up to get a closer look at him, and he gasps.

"Baz, why do you have my wings?" Simon says to me. His voice is awash with disbelief, and Crowley, that's how I feel.

"I don't have wings!" I say indignantly, even as I get up out of bed to look in the mirror. "Crowley, I do have your wings."

Deep, blood-red wings are sprouting out of my shoulder blades, ripping twin tears into my shirt. A barbed tail in the same shade is flicking in between my legs. I'm not as pale as I normally am, and when I flick my tongue to where my fangs normally would be, I feel nothing.

I'm still staring at the mirror when he says, "Baz, I'm hungry."

I roll my eyes at him. "Simon, you're always hungry." In the mirror I see his face begin to show signs of stress, and I turn around to face him. "Simon, what's wrong?" Worry begins to creep into my voice.

"It's like I'm hungry and I'm thirsty at the same time." He whispers. Strain is evident on his face.

Is it possible that since I have his wings and tail, he got my vampirism? That doesn't seem possible, but you never know with Simon. The holes have been being filled, and Bunce's father says that Simon could get his back too. His magic always was explosive. Could this be a sign?

I walk over to him and I lay a gentle hand on his shoulder. Simon's cheeks are puffy with fangs, and he's paler than usual. "Simon, let's get you some blood, and then call Bunce."

"Penny," he mumbled around the fangs. "She'll know what to do."

I nod and lead him into the kitchen that was attached to our small flat. We had made the decision to move in with each other three years into our relationship. Crowley, if Dev or Niall could see me now. They'd say that I've gone soft. But that's true. I've gone soft for Simon Snow, and I'm finally not afraid to admit it. I was so scared for so many years.

"Snow, sit." I point at the mismatched chair that resides at our round wooden table. As he sits down, I go to the fridge and pull out a cup of blood. We had managed to find a sustainable blood source for me, with blood coming from a magical butcher in London that caters specifically to vampires. "Do you want a straw?"

"Yes," Simon's words are muffled by the fangs that are filling up his mouth. He grimaces and shivers.

I push a straw through the plastic film on top of the blood cup and hand it to him slowly. His vision must be heightened, and his hearing should be amplified as well. I'll have to be careful not to frighten him.

"I'm going to go call Bunce. Is it okay if I leave you here for a few minutes?" I ask quietly. I don't want to overload his senses. One of the few memories that I have from when I was younger is just the feeling of being completely overwhelmed.

Simon I shake my head at Baz when he asks if it's alright if he leaves. I don't want to be here alone. Everything feels so different. My balance is off because I don't have my wings and tail, and I'm cold. When these stupid fangs go away I'll have to tell Baz that I'm sorry for leaving the window open on all those nights at Watford. No wonder he was always so insistent that it was closed, I'm freezing.

And I'm thirsty. These dumb fangs are filling my mouth and making it even harder to speak. My words are being caught physically too instead of just mentally.

I take the cup of blood as Baz pulls out his phone to call Penny. We moved into separate flats recently as Micha moved to London. She moved in with him and I moved in with Baz.

The blood is weird. It has a metallic sort of taste and it feels weird to be drinking blood through a straw, but it makes the fangs slide back into my gums.

I can hear Baz talking quietly with Penny as I drink the blood. Penny was hesitant about Baz at first, but she has warmed up to him. Baz helped me a lot in those first days after I lost my magic. He helped me understand that my magic wasn't what made me me. It was only a part of me.

"Bunce," Baz says simply on the phone.

I'm surprised when I am able to hear Penny's response, a single word. "Hello." Baz is always talking about how he can hear me even when I'm in a different room.

"We need you to come over immediately." Baz is looking at me. I used to hate when he got that look in his eyes, the one that fills his eyes with concern. But now I know that it means that he cares about me. I used to feel like I was useless when he looked at me like that. It wasn't his fault, it was a product of my own mind. Now I just feel loved.

I smile at him to show that the fangs are gone. He smiled weakly back at me, filling in Penny on what happened.

"I'll be right over. Let me just check in with my dad." Penny always wants to do research.

I suppose that I can wait a few minutes for her to come. I don't feel as uncomfortable now that my fangs are gone and I've finished the blood. I just feel cold.

"Baz," He whips his head around to look at me. It's interesting to be able to see my wings without looking in a mirror. Baz looks gorgeous with them, like an avenging angel. "I'm sorry for arguing with you about the window being open."

Baz I feel my face break out into a smile when he apologizes. The idiot's finally realized that I was actually cold for all those years and not just opposing him. "I'll get you a blanket." Walking with the wings is cumbersome, but if Simon can do it, I can.

As I'm coming back with a blanket, Bunce arrives. She walks right into the flat, letting herself in with her key. A map is cradled gently in her arms.

"Oh, wow." She breaths out, taking in Simon before turning to me. "This really is a powerful spell."

"Really? This could be a spell?" Simon asks. He's gotten better at not flinching when magic is talked about. He used to hate any mention of magic at all. "Who could've cast it?"

"That's what we are trying to figure out." I bring the blanket over to him and drape it around his shoulders. "I didn't cast it, so the only reasonable solution for who cast it could be..." I trail off, letting Bunce finish my sentence.

"You, Simon. It could be you." Bunce finishes.

Simon looks stunned. He never was good at hiding what he felt. "What... how... how is that possible?"

Bunce lays the map out on the table carefully, revealing London and its surrounding areas. Large circles are filled in on various spots on the map. "This is a map of where all the holes, dead spots, places without magic, that used to exist."

"Used to exist?" Simon's eyes are blown up wide.

Bunce nods. "Can you see where they are filled in? That's because the dead spots no longer exist. The magic has returned to these places, and we think that it could have returned to you."

"We?" Simon manages to tear his gaze away from Bunce to stare at me.

"I've been talking with Professor Bunce. I think that your magic could have returned to you, and that's what prompted the switch." I place a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. Simon looks like his whole world just blew up. He's slumped against the back of the chair and his eyes are half closed.

"Try casting a spell." Bunce encourages. "I recommend Flick of the Switch." She said the words without magic purpose behind them, so that she wasn't casting a spell.

"What's that from?" Simon asks, astonishment turning into curiosity.

"It's from a popular song. Trixie used to use it all the time when she wanted to switch the properties of two things, so it should work for you." Bunce tells Snow, smiling at the memory of Trixie.

"Flick of the Switch." Simon says forcefully. There is magic behind the words, and my body begins to tingle.

I can feel Simon's magic encasing my body. It feels different than how it did at Watford, with no smoke smell coming off of him. When I make eye contact with him, he's giddy.

Simon I'm magic. I'm a mage again. I can do magic. I cast the spell and it works, it actually works!

My magic feels controllable now, not like how it felt when I was the Chosen One. I feel like how I did when I was sharing my magic with Baz, except I'm doing this by myself.

I connect my eyes with Baz. When I open my mouth to speak, my vision goes black for a few moments.

When my vision comes back, I see Baz standing close to me. He no longer has wings.

I smile at him and reach back to feel if I have my wings back. They are there, like they always are.

"Baz, I can do magic." I say to him, my smile huge.

"I know, Simon, you can." Baz pulls my face to his, and gives me my first kiss with controllable magic.

[mf-despair-queen]

Wet Dreams - Mitch Rapp

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Pairing: Mitch Rapp/Reader

Word Count: 9,680

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Unprotected Sex, Oral (female receiving), Bondage, Daddy Kink, Spanking, Choking, Doggy, Wet Dreams (literally), Dirty Talk, Cowgirl, Rough Sex, Side Sex

Song: Dance For You by Beyonce

Notes: :) Thanks to @savage-stilinski​ and @malia--stilinski​ for suffering with me while I wrote. Partially the result of my talks with Julia and this ask from nonnie:  “Could you do a mitch imagine, where you’re moaning his name in your sleep, so he starts eating you out while you’re asleep, and when you cum you wake up and you hve rough sex.” I promise, it’s consensual.

“You’re home!”

Your body flew across the room into the entrance of your small home, arms latching around the dark-haired man’s neck, his feet stumbling under him with the new weight. His bag dropped from his hand, both muscled arms wrapped securely around your waist. Your head snuggled into his neck, uncaring for the fact that the door remained wide open behind him, rain pouring against the street in the late hour, while you only wore a thin, nearly see-through silk nightgown that ended just below your ass.

“You’re home,” you cooed again, hearing the man chuckle lowly.

“I’m home, baby,” he hummed thoughtfully, inching further into the house, kicking the door shut with a simple kick of the foot. His lips brushed your forehead, placing a firm kiss to it after a moment. “But, why are you awake? It’s late, baby.”

“It’s never too late when you are coming home finally, Mitch,” you whispered into his neck, goosebumps running along his arms. He smiled faintly at your words, a rare occurrence people saw aside from you. You were his pride and joy after all and only you could make him feel this way. His arms around you tightened, swaying you from side to side.

“It’s midnight, though, baby,” he told you, your head upturning to look at him. “You should be asleep. It’s not healthy for you to stay up this late.”

“But I needed to see you,” you told him, feeling your feet hit the floor. Your arms loosened from his neck, hands gently cupping his cheeks instead. His stubble had grown out in the weeks he was gone, the hairs lining his jawline prickling at your fingertips. Your thumbs traced his hidden moles, knowing the exact location of each one from years of admiring them. They brushed over his plump lips, his tongue darting out to wet them immediately after. “I wanted to see you. It’s been too long.”

“How long?” he questioned, knowing how you would answer.

“Three weeks, five days, seventeen hours, four minutes, and roughly eighteen seconds,” you told him. Mitch quirked an amused smile, letting out a small but deep laugh. ��What? You asked!”

“I just love your exactness on this matter,” he hummed, taking your face in his hands, mirroring your actions. “You literally countdown the days until I come home from work.”

“Right. ‘Work’,” you giggled. “How did the business deal go down?”

Mitch shook his head, picking up on the sarcasm. You were well aware of his true occupation, but you didn’t care. It didn’t matter that he would leave home for weeks, sometimes months, on end, risking his life to those that threatened others. You were proud of him and supported him, wishing him the best everytime he walked out the door, potentially never to be seen again. It was one of the things that made Mitch Rapp fall deeply in love with you, two years after his fiance was killed.

That was three years ago.

His lips brushed yours in a soft kiss, his smile never leaving his lips. “Just fine,” he mumbled against them, your small moan so faint, it was almost gone unnoticed. “They won’t be a threat to the business ever again. We bought them out.”

You giggled. That was his code that the target was terminated and his mission was a success. “I’m glad. Hurley must have been proud of you.”

Mitch scoff, shaking his head. “Hurley? Proud? Have you met the man?” Mitch asked. “He was up my ass before we even got there.”

“He just likes to keep you in line, Mitch,” you said. “You weren’t the most obedient back in the day from what I’ve heard.”

“That was years ago,” he grumbled, shaking his head. “My life is in line now.”

“I know.” You took his hands in your, his finger playing with the diamond ring on your left hand. Your own fingers traced over the gold band on his hand, smiling up at him. “Now, we should celebrate a successful buyout. To welcome you home from a long trip.”

“Is that so?” he hummed, preparing to place his lips on yours. “What did you have in mind?”

“Oh, you know,” you muttered at him, tongue running across his lips. “You throwing me on the bed, eating me out before you take me in every position known to man. You pounding my pussy into oblivion until I can’t stop screaming your name. Anything and everything to make up for the honeymoon you missed.”

He bit his lip, forehead wrinkling in distaste. “You know I wouldn’t have missed it if I had a choice. I would have taken you away to wherever you wanted if I could have,” he told you. “At least we got a day of sex before I had to leave.”

“It’s not the same,” you told him. “I wanted a week of fucking, not just a day. For almost a month, I haven't been able to probably make love to my husband. I want to fix that.”

Shortly before his newest mission, you had made the split decision to tie the knot. It had been something you had been discussing on and off for a year, but when Mitch found out he was to spend nearly a month overseas, he wanted to make it officially. Two days before he was to leave, you gathered the people closest to you - namely your sister, since she was your only remaining family, and the people Mitch worked with in the CIA. Even though he speaks ill of his superiors, they were the family he hadn’t had in decades. Irene was like an older sister, if not a motherly figure that supported his every move. And Stan Hurley, despite his gruff exterior and ruthless worth ethic towards the young man, was a mentor and father-figure to Mitch. He encouraged Mitch’s sudden action, though warned him that things could go horribly wrong at any second.

Mitch didn’t care. He swore to protect you as he always did.

The day before his mission was your makeshift honeymoon, the two of you sealing the doors and windows, phones off to avoid disturbances, while you spent the entire day naked under the sheets and in every room of your small house. You were going to make every second count with him, screaming his name until you had no voice left. Mitch went into work the next day with scratches and bruises covering his body, but it was his fuel to return home as soon as possible to properly spend time with you.

“I think we can definitely fix that,” he breathed, chest heaving with heavy pants. His jeans strained around his waist, fingers itching to run across your skin, electricity flowing between your bodies. His lips pressed to your sharply, enveloping yours completely before pulling away with a slick smack, leaving you whining for more. His kisses were nothing but taunting, the feeling lingering whenever he pushed against you.

You were pulling at his shirt before he could protest, pulling it over his head swiftly. The fabric landed on a nearby lamp when you tossed it away, ignoring the lack of light filling the room. Your fingers dusted over his pecs, playing with the hairs on his chest. Your bodies rolled against each other, teasing kisses swapped between you both. His muscles bulged and flexed from your touch, tightening with his desire.

He went to grab the end of your nightgown, lips pressing to yours in a soft kiss, only to be broken by your yawn. Your head turned away from his to avoid yawning in his face. Mitch chuckled softly, his whiskey eyes softening at the tired look on your face. One hand left his chest to cover your mouth, a small squeak escaping your throat mid-yawn. Instead of pulling your nightgown over your head, he pushed it up on your waist, resting his hands against your bare hips.

“Maybe we should save the celebration for tomorrow,” he proposed. Your shook your head at him fiercely.

“No, I’m fine, Mitch. I want to-” you yawned mid-sentence. “I want to do this.”

“No,” he whispered, eying your face closely. His fingers outlined the dark bags under your eyes. “You haven’t been sleeping much, have you? You look exhausted.”

“It’s hard to sleep without you here,” you told him.

“Exactly. That’s why,” he started, throwing you over his shoulder, hand resting on your ass while the other locked the door, grabbing his bag from the ground, “we are going to bed. Right now. It’s after midnight and I, for one, am rather tired. Do you know how long of a flight it is from London to Virginia?”

“Approximately eight hours and three minutes, assuming good weather, favorable wind, a straight, non-stop flight-”

Mitch silenced you with a soft kiss, your boyd melting on his shoulder. “I love you and your knack for useless information like this,” he hummed. “Why aren’t you working with the CIA again?”

“Because you won’t let me, even if I’m just your control admin and work remotely from home,” you pointed out, poking his six pack abs. “You know, I could hack circles around anyone you’re trying to kill, babe.”

“I know. You hacked me,” he laughed, dropping you on the bed. “That’s how we met, baby. You know this.”

“I know,” you giggled sleepily, hugging a pillow to your chest, the tops of your breasts peeking out of your nightgown. “Best decision of my life.”

“And it almost cost you your life,” he reminded you, unbuttoning his jeans, kicking the denim off his legs into the hamper in the corner of the room. You watched him through half-lidded eyes, admiring his toned body from the comfort of your bed. His back faced you, muscles tight as he lifted his arms and stretched, the tent in his Calvin Kleins showing the package he kept selfishly hidden from your view. His hand ran through his hair, eyes darting to look at you. “I snuck into your apartment and held a knife to your throat.”

“I just wanted the WiFi password. Why did you have to make it so complicated?” you grumbled, half asleep.

Mitch rolled his eyes, fixing you under the blanket before settling into his normal spot behind you. His arm wrapped around your waist, tugging you back against his chest. His nose nuzzled into your knotted locks, his groin grinding against your ass. You let out a weak moan, your voice laced with drowsiness. “I know,” he whispered into your hair. “But, at least you got your WiFi, baby.”

“I think I got more than that,” you whispered back, letting out a groan. “Now, stop what you’re doing. I can’t fuck right now.”

“You were so eager to five minutes ago.”

“That was five minutes ago. You missed your chance.” You shoved your ass back against him regardless, hearing Mitch let out a grunting moan. His hips rolled harder against your backside, his hand moving up to your breast to grip it through your sleepwear. His rolled the mound in his palm, massaging the hard nipple through the silk. You moaned his name lowly in reply. “Mitch, please. Not right now. Sleep.”

“Alright,” he murmured, pushing himself up on one elbow, kissing your cheek. Pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, he admired your dozing face, holding you close. “It’s good to be home.”

“I agree,” you slurred, taking his hand. “Welcome home, Mitch.”

The assassin watched you fall asleep completely before settling into the bed completely. Sleep washed over him in a matter of minutes, his body fully relaxing into his first peaceful sleep in weeks.

He walked into the bedroom, messing with the buttons on the fancy, button up shirt he wore. His tie dangled from his other hand, not forgotten at all. His hair curled at the ends but looked just right in the fading rays of light that soaked through the open balcony window. The ocean lapped over the beach, the salty ocean air wafting into the room. But Mitch wasn’t focused on the sunset over the ocean or the soft breeze that billowed around him. His eyes were focused on you.

You were laying on the California King that rested in the middle of the room, the transparent blue lingerie set you wore not hiding your immediate arousal. The lace, floral pattern didn’t hide your erect nipples. Your legs were spread and propped up for him to have the perfect shot of your soaked core. Your fingers traced over the wet patch that had formed, pushing aside the material to dip a finger into yourself. Your free hand palmed your own breast, the taut nipple held between your fingers.

“What are you waiting for?” You asked him seductively, mewling his name. His ears twitched at the sound, the assassin shuffling between the balls of his feet. “Aren’t you going to fuck me?”

“You bet,” he breathed, crawling over your body. The shirt dangled open in front of you, his fingers replacing yours inside your core. You moved to his push his shirt off his shoulders, your lips meeting in a passionate connection. Tongues battled for dominance between your cheeks, his easily winning in the fight for pleasure. His fingers thrust into you quickly, the squishing sound of his fingers entering your soaked core flitting around the room. Your hands moved to tangle in his hair, tugging at his roots to keep him flush against you.

He pulled from your lips, physically ripping the front of the bra you wore, letting your breasts fall free. You moaned loudly, his mouth meeting your chest in a flurry of harsh sucks and kisses. His mouth ravished your firm peak, tugging at it with his teeth and lips until it was swollen and red. His fingers never slowed inside you, spreading your pussy open when he pulled out, coming together when he pushed back in. Your moaned never ceased, back arching into him.

“Oh God, Mitch. Please. Fuck me!”

He grinned against your chest, pulling from it with a sickening loud pop. He grabbed the tie that was resting on his side, tying your hands together together around the metal headboard. You didn’t protest nor did you struggle. You allowed him to do what he wanted. Lustful eyes followed him as he crawled backwards, fingers leaving your pussy empty. His fingers tugging tauntingly slow at the lingerie bottoms, running his tongue through your folds when he got a chance. When they were fully off and discarded across the room, the assassin leant back on his knees, unbuttoning the slacks he had on.

“That’s right, Mitch. Take them off, baby,” you muttered aloud, eying him closely. Mitch smirked, rolling off the bed to drop the slacks to his feet, boxer briefs included. His cock stood at attention, long, hard and ready for action. The precum oozed from the bright red tip. His length twitched openly and looked as if it were pulsating with desire. He stroked it slowly,  glancing between his erection and your face, studying your reaction.

“Is this what you want, princess?” he huskily stated, crawling back onto the bed. He rolled his hips against yours, cock sliding easily through your folds and prodding at your core. You mewled once, nodding your head quickly. Mitch wasn’t having that simple reaction though. “Words, baby. What do you want.”

“Fuck me, daddy. I’m all yours,” you told him. You pushed him off of you with your foot, flipping yourself onto your stomach. Your arms crossed over each other and your ass stuck up in the air, swinging from side to side with anticipation. “I need you. Fuck me, daddy, until I’m squirting and cumming all night long.”

He didn’t reply.

His cock slid into you from behind, eagerly pistoning himself into you. Your head flew backwards, hair flying all over the place with little remorse. His hips clapped against your ass, his hand colliding with it noisily. Your moans and screams filled the room, shoving yourself back against him to meet his powerful, relentless thrusts. Your hands gripped at his tie, not bothering to shield the noises you were making.

“That’s right, daddy! Fuck me! Fuck me hard! And fast!” You screamed at him, Mitch speeding up. The tip of his cock tapped at your cervix and g-spot, his hand connecting with your ass with a booming slap. He tugged at your hair slightly, thrusting himself into you ravenously. “Fuck! Yes! Just like that!”

“You like that, princess?” he rasped out, slapping your ass again. “You like when I spank you?”

“Fuck yes!” You screamed at him. “Spank me, daddy. I’ve been a bad girl. Punish me. Fuck me until I cum.”

Your walls clung around him, Mitch heaving for air. Your words made his cock twitch. He was straining to keep from cumming too early from the warmth and moisture you were emitting. But he complied with your wished, spanking you again and again until your ass was red with multiple handprints, jiggling in different directions when he slapped it. He pounded you fiercely, listening to your vulgar pleas to please you.

“More, daddy. More, more, more. Please. Pound my cunt like you always do. It’s all yours. Pound my cunt until it’s cumming all around you.”

“Shit,” he mumbled to himself, squeezing his eyes shut to concentrate. His hand released your hair, circling your body to rub circles at your clit instead. Your body began shaking violently, the hugging around his length growing harder. You stammered out multiple curses, alternating between ‘fuck’ and ‘Mitch’ more than once. You grew wetter around him, multiple orgasms simultaneously washing over your system.

“Mitch!” You screamed. “Yes! Daddy! I love you! Fuck me, daddy! Cum inside me. Fill me with all of your cum. Warm me with your seed! I want to feel your sperm spill into me, leaking out of my pussy after you pull out because there’s so much of you inside me. I will run my fingers through my filled cunt, feeling every drop you let out inside me.”

“Fuck,” he growled, leaning forward in the middle of his thrusts. “I’m cumming, baby. I-I can’t-”

“Let it go, Mitch,” you told him seductively. “Cum inside me. It’s our honeymoon. You can cum in me all you want. I want to feel you.” You glanced back at him, eyes dark and lustful. “Cum in me, Mitch Rapp. I need you to cum.”

The words echoed with his release, a loud grunt vibrating his throat. His seed spilled from his tip like a shotgun, ejecting itself deep into your womb. His cock sputtered, filling every bit of your body with his warm seed. You moaned at the feeling he gave you, Mitch not hearing anything you uttered. His ears were ringing with the intense orgasm, the powerful hug of your pussy around his thick cock keeping him trapped in a web of arousal, the alluring feeling making his vision spot.

Cum…

Cum…

CUM…

Mitch stirred from his sleep, blurry eyes taking a moment to focus on the time on the side table. 3:12 AM. He groaned, shifting in his position, rolling onto his back. He ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the already messy locks. You were sound asleep at his side, curled up in a small ball, hugging his normal pillow. “The fuck did I just dream about?” he grumbled lowly, not wanting to wake you up. He shuffled slightly in his spot, one hand moving to palm his groin.

His cock was hard, but it was wet.

His face contorted in disgust, kicking the blanket off. “I fucking came in my sleep,” he breathed, stumbling to a nearby drawer. “I had a wet dream about my wife. Specifically our honeymoon we never had.” He glanced at your sleeping form before dipping into the bathroom. He made sure to shut the door before turning on the light. It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the brightness, multiple blinks to keep from going blind.

He grabbed a towelette from under the sink, dropping the Calvin Kleins he had worn to bed. He grimaced at the cum that was pasted along his length and on the inside of his underwear, wetting the towel to wash himself. He grumbled lowly, his cock sensitive to the touch, the white liquid caked to his skin.

“How the hell did this happen?” he asked himself, scratching his stubbled chin. Once he was clean, he tossed the wet cloth aside, staring at himself through the mirror. “That has never happened before. Holy shit. That dream was so nice though. It felt so real.” He turned to look at the ruined underwear, biting his lip. “And I came harder than ever I think. Dammit.”

He slid on the new boxer briefs, adjusting the bad as he stared at his reflection longer, arching forward against the sink. Splashing some water over his face, he sighed, letting the drops fall into the sink. He straight straight into the porcelain, licking his lips. “God, what do I even do now? Can I go back to sleep after that? Do I tell her what happened?”

He heard rustling in the bedroom, his sigh prolonged. He figured you had awoken without him there and would come knocking at the door any second. He wiped the remaining bits of water from his face, using a spare towel from the towel rack to dry it completely before cracking the door open, peering into the room with a glint in his eye. His brow scrunched together when he spotted you still in the bed, but you were stirring restless amongst the sheets. The assassin noted how you had rolled onto your back, his pillow left to fall to the floor forgotten, with the blankets low on your hips and tangled around your feet. One arm draped over your stomach, just below your breasts, while the other was strung above your head on the pillow and through your messy hair. You were still asleep. Mitch was thankful.

He cringed when the door creaked open, the man clicking the light off before it could wake you. He shuffled forward slowly, is eyes trying to readjust to the darkness after having focused on the bathroom light around him. He cursed to himself when he kicked his bag and other objects that were littering the bedroom carpet, Mitch biting the inside of his cheek to keep from making an overwhelming amount of noise. The room was silent and the slightest noise could stir you from your well deserved rest.

His hand met the end of the mattress, using the edge to inch around to his side, one knee on the bed to climb in. Before he could climb back into the bed, however, he froze, ears twitching. A small noise filled the room, Mitch’s eyes roaming the darkness for the source. The same noise came a second later, the assassin’s senses kicking into gear. The hand he had on the mattress moved for his bedside table, tugging open the drawer for his spare gun. His pupils dilated, the room becoming more visible to him.

The door was shut, the window was closed. The closet sat wide open the way it always did, clothes dangling from hangers. The bathroom he was just was vacant with the door ajar, the soft drips from the faucet barely audible to his trained ear. There was no sign of movement anywhere in the room, the lack of outside presence disturbing him.

Did I imagine the sound? He asked himself, taking the gun with him as he searched the room. He pushed aside the clothes in the closet to make sure nowhere was there. He checked the window latches. He poked his head out the bedroom door to see if there was movement around the rest of the house. He even checked the bathroom, just to be safe.

“The fuck?” he mumbled, closing the door with a silent click, running his long digits through his hair. He dropped the gun back into his drawer, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Am I just imagining things now? Maybe this mission got the better of me for once and I’m just super on edge now.”

The quiet noise sounded behind him once more, Mitch whipping around. He glanced around, no sign of anything except for your body. He looked down at you, licking his lips. When you didn’t stir, he grunted, shaking his head. He laid back in the bed, massaging from his chiseled jawline to his temples lightly, trying to relax. He was sure he was imagining it.

“Mitch~.”

He shot up, turning to you, Your mouth parted slightly, Mitch recognizing the way your legs were rubbing together slightly under the blanket. Yet, your eyes remained glued, an air of drowsiness and sleep emanating from you. He watched you closely, noticing your body squirm slightly, fingers twitching slightly from whatever dream you were having.

“Baby?” he asked quietly, unsure if he would wake you. “You awake?”

“Mmm, Mitch,” you let out, slightly louder than before. He licked his lips slowly, listening closely. “More, please.”

“More?” he asked.

“Please,” you quietly pleaded in your sleep, head turning to face the opposite fall, your legs squeezing together. “More.”

His heart hammered against his chest, his body warming up. The more your squirmed in your sleep, turning from side to side with multiple low moans and pleas, the lower the blanket fell. You were kicking it off without knowing it. Mitch watched this happen, his eyes scanning your form from head to toe. Your breasts threatened to spill from the nightgown, the lack of bra underneath obvious. Your nipples were erect from the late-night chill in the room. The man you loved got a full view of your side breast, some angles from your squirming giving him views of cleavage and bare skin. The bottom of your nightgown rode up, the pale pink lace cheeksters you wore hugging your curves perfectly. Mitch wanted to reach over to play with the small bow in the middle of the band, a lace flower design stringing from either side of it. He smiled at them; they were his favorite and you knew it. But his smile dropped slightly when he felt his cock twitch, growing hard once more.

He recalled the dream he had, flashes of what happened behind his eyelids when he closed his whiskey orbs. Your low moans made it hard to relax, his body tensing with the hardening erection. His legs parted slightly, palm running over the clothed tent, his shaft growing by the second.

“Mitch,” you whined, the hand that was on your stomach sliding down your body until it was tucked between your legs. His breath hitched, the assassin suddenly finding it hard to breath. He watched your fingers skim your panties before falling limp, your moans continuing. “Please. I need you.”

Mitch struggled with what to do. His mouth watered, body burning with want. He contemplated fulfilling your pleas. It wouldn’t be the first time he pleased you while you slept, his face buried between your legs eating you out until you woke up, begging him to fuck you the rest of the night. Hell, you had done it to him multiple times. He would wake up with your mouth around his cock, bobbing quickly until he was cumming down your throat. He even woke up once when you slid down onto him, his cock buried deep in your pussy while you rode him. You both loved it when the other awoke you to such a pleasure, the eroticism filling the air with an equal amount of love.

He quickly shook his head, scolding himself. “She needs to sleep. I shouldn’t wake her for my selfish wants,” he told himself. He glanced at you, your back arching uncomfortably. He pulled the blankets further up against your body, sliding off the bed long enough to grab his pillow from the floor.

Your hand shot out in your sleep, grabbing his wrist and making his stop what he was doing. “Mitch,” you whined. “I’m so wet for you. Please.” Your hand dropped his wrist, turning in the bed. “I missed you so much. Please, make me cum like you always do.”

Mitch took a deep breath...

“Please, Mitch. I need you.”

...and left the pillow on the floor.

Lifting the end of the blankets, he crawled under them, his body completely hidden from view. He caught a whiff of your arousal, the man letting out a deep, disgruntled groan. He had missed the smell and even more, he missed the taste of you. You were writhing against the mattress, Mitch struggling to pull our panties off quickly, placing his mouth to your folds.

You let out a loud, rippling moan, pleasing Mitch’s senses. He continued to kiss at your folds softly, swiping his tongue through them occasionally. You whimpered loudly, moaning for more. The noises made him cocky, trailing kisses up and down your thighs teasingly, uncaring that he was scratching at your skin with his beard. The scratches just made you quiver more, releasing more juices for him.

“Whatever you are dreaming about made you really wet, baby,” he hummed from under the blanket, not getting a response. The man snickered to himself, flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue. You moaned again for him, legs trying to rub the ache away. “You want me to please you, baby? You missed me that much that you’re dreaming about what I can do to you?”

“Mitch,” you whimpered, hand landing over his head through the blanket. “I need you so bad. More, please.” Your back arched, Mitch sucking at your clit as you did. “Fuck, more! I need you! It’s been too long.”

“You want more?” he teased, knowing he wouldn’t get a response. “I’ll give you more.”

His tongue delved deep inside your pussy, lapping at the uices you secreted without knowing, your unknown dream stimulating your nerves. You mewled his name under your breath, tossing and turning from side to side. Mitch’s veiny hands kept a hold on your hips, keeping you from moving too much so his mouth could focus on its mission.

His tongue circled inside you, tracing your sensitive walls, savoring the taste you left on his tongue. The tip barely brushed you g-spot, but when it did, you squeaked his name with a breathy noise, hands grasping at the pillows and blankets. Beads of sweat ran down your forehead, panting for air like a dog in heat. He could feel the heat radiating from every pore of your body, his kisses leaving a smoldering trail of fire across your skin and innards. His scruff scraped against your thighs whenever he moved, red marks left in its wake.

He backed away slightly, allowing one finger to slide inside you, testing the waters before adding a second finger. The tips and knuckles curled a bit, his week-long untrimmed nails scraping at your delicate walls pleasurably. He stilled knuckle deep, playing with your sweet spot with a simple curl of the two fingers, as if to tell you to come here. His tongue danced around the entrance to your pussy, slipping in with his fingers only to feel your walls around him tighten, hugging him for dear life.

“More,” you pleaded with a strained voice. “Please, more.”

Mitch smiled against you, a smile that was reserved only for you. His fingers began thrusting slowly, speeding up gradually over time. His mouth moved strictly to your clit, toying with the swollen nub relentlessly, flicking at it without remorse. His lips would wrap around it, tugging at it with either his lips or his teeth until it was erect, enlarged by your arousal. He greedily continued to suck at the engorged nub, selfishly and hungrily ravishing it.

He felt you clenching around his fingers the faster he went. Your breathing had picked up, chest heaving rapidly. You mewled his name, Mitch knowing you were growing close even in your unconscious state. He smiled to himself, releasing your hips completely. His hand slid into his boxer briefs, his cock pulsing from the skim of his fingers, wishing, too, to be pleased. He carefully took himself in his hand, stroking his cock, keeping pace with this thrusts into your core. He groaned against your clit from his own stimulation, his mind buzzing with lust and affection.

“Fuck,” he mumbled against your clit, smearing the precum over the tip. “I missed you, baby. So much,” he groaned, replacing his fingers with his mouth, savagely attacking your pussy with licks. You were tossing more on his bed, legs hugging his head to your core. Your moans grew in volume, body shaking against the sheets. “Come on,” he whispered into you. “Cum for me. Let me taste your sweet nectar, baby.”

You let out a drawn out moan, slumping into the bed. Mitch groaned against your core, lapping every drop of your juices that washed out during your orgasm. It splashed against in tongue in waves, your husband drinking every ounce you gave him shamelessly. He savored the taste, every memory you shared together racing through his mind from the single sip.

He was glad to be home finally.

He stayed under the blankets as you body relaxed, limbs going limp against the sheets. He waited for a sign - any indication of what was beyond the fleece that shielded him. He finally felt your fingers curl over the top of his head, tapping twice. The assassin let out a small chuckle, crawling up your body until his head poked free, resting on your stomach.

“Hi,” you breathed. You stared down at him with a lazy smile, eyes cloudy with sleep and desire. Your hand ran through his hair, pushing it back. The assassin let out a content sigh, both arms wrapping around you, relaxing against your body. “That’s some way to wake up.”

“Sorry,” he chuckled into your stomach. “I was awake and you kept moaning for more. I got a little…”

“Horny?” you hummed, twirling his hair around your fingers. “Eager? Needy? Desperate?”

“Aroused,” he clarified. He pushed up your nightgown, his stubble scratching at your skin when he kissed your stomach. “God, I love hearing you moan. I couldn’t help myself. I just wanted a little taste.”

“A little, huh?”

“Just a little,” he repeated. He glanced up at you, eyes locking. “What were you dreaming about?”

“You,” you told him, Mitch deadpanning. “What? I was!”

“Specifically?”

“The things you do to me,” you whispered, almost shyly. “The things you did to me before you left. And the things I still want you to do to me.” You licked your lips slowly, peering at the man. “The things I want you to do as if we were on our honeymoon finally.”

Mitch looked away, biting his lip. “A dream just like mine,” he mumbled.

“What?” Mitch blinked, looking back at you. “What do you mean like yours?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Is that why you were awake?” You asked him. “Did little Mitchy have a wet dream about me?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation, your face going blank in shock. “I dreamt about us going on a honeymoon to some exotic beachfront, just the two of us. I tied you up and fucked you silly.”

“Is that so?” you asked.

“You called me daddy,” he pointed out, your face flushing.

“I didn’t know you liked that,” you hummed thoughtfully. “Did you like it?”

“I won’t lie, baby. It was hot as balls,” he chuckled. “To see and hear you give in the way you did. It was… beyond amazing. It was incredible. Stunning. Wonderful. And so god damn sexy. I have never seen you that submissive and I loved it. You wanted me more than ever.”

“What happened because of this dream?” You asked, shifting in the bed until you were sitting upright. Mitch’s head between your legs once more.

Mitch hesitated, almost ashamed to come clean. “You made me cum.” He pursed his lips, rolling on his back to stare at the ceiling. “Literally, not just in the dream. I woke up with a hard on right after I orgasmed in my sleep. And fuck, it was a great orgasm.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. One of the best I’ve ever had. They’re always great with you but this one was… otherworldly. I was seeing stars.” He pushed his boxer briefs down his legs, exposing his erection to you, the fabric kicked from his ankles onto the floor. He carefully grasped himself in his hand, stroking his length slowly. “I’m still horny from it all.”

“And this isn’t just because we haven’t seen each other for weeks? Because we haven’t touched each other. Or had sex. Even masturbated.”

His forehead wrinkled, leaning back to look at you upside down. “You didn’t masturbate while i was gone?”

“It wasn’t the same without you here,” you replied. “Porn doesn’t cut it. Vibrators don’t cut it. I just wanted you.”

“Damn. Should I feel guilty that I masturbated while I was on my mission?” he said, rolling onto his stomach. “Like, every night that I was alone, not chasing some guy with a gun. Hand around my cock, thinking about you riding me until I was cumming all over my bare chest.”

“Mmm, Mitch,” you whimpered. The ache was forming once more between your legs. He didn’t stop.

“Sometimes I thought about fucking you from behind in the kitchen, pounding your sweet little pussy while you make us dinner.”

“Mitch, please,” you whimpered louder. Mitch sat up slowly, nestling between your legs, tugging at the straps of your nightgown.

“Or, there are the times we do it in the shower. Your back against the wall while I thrust into you, then you drop to your knees and suck me off. Your hands grab my ass while you deepthroat me. God, you have the best mouth.”

“Mitch, this isn’t nice,” you whined. His lips met your neck, sucking dark marks to it before trailing them down to your shoulder, pulling the straps down your arms completely. The front of your nightgown was resting just below your breasts, the round, perky mounds free to the chilly air.

“Why?” he asked, pushing you back slightly, kissing along your collarbone. You mewled quietly, struggling to push your legs together, the muscled man keeping you from doing just that. His form stood in the way, contributing to the ache that was growing in your bones. His strong hands roamed your body. His hips rolled against yours whenever he inched closer to kiss you, his lips finding home at every nook and cranny of your torso.

Your hands threaded through his hair, his face buried between your breasts. He purposefully was avoiding your nipples, teasing you with light touches that felt like a gentle breeze passing over you. You arched into him, mewling quietly. “Because.”

“Because why?”

He kissed around each breast in a figure eight, listening to you whine for more. Your hands tugged restlessly at his hair, pleading under your breath. “Because I need you,” you uttered through scattered breaths. “You’re making me so damn hot and bothered.”

“Why?” he asked playfully. “Do I turn you on by talking about the things I think about when i masturbate? Shouldn’t you be flattered that I think about you as much as I do when I’m away? You’re always on my mind when I’m a mission because the faster I get it done, the faster I get back home to you to fulfill those fantasies I picture.”

“Mitch.”

He kissed your chest, taking your nipple between his lips, toying with it for a moment before releasing it with a loud pop. “You like hearing me talk about when I hold my cock in my hand, jerking it until i can’t any more. But all I wish is that it’s your hand or your mouth pleasing me. You’re the master at making me cum, baby. You feel way better than my hand.”

“Mitch,” you said louder, voice cracking.

“Sometimes, I wish you would just walk into the room while I’m masturbating because you were watching me and you wanted a piece of the action. You love to watch me stroke my long, hard cock. Then, you blow me until I cum down your throat. You wrap your tits around me until I cum on them and your face. Then I fuck you until we can’t can’t fuck anymore,” he continued to say, plucking your nipples with his teeth and lips until they were stiff mountains of eroticism.

“Mitch!” You finally screamed, pushing him back. You grimaced slightly when his teeth nearly clamped down on your nipple in surprise, scrapping uncomfortably at the swollen peak. His smile flipped into a deep frown, his eyes sparking.

“What?” came his soft voice, almost fragile. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you let out, Mitch’s face showing his disbelief. “You biting me was an accident! Completely my fault. I pushed you back without you expecting it. That’s not what I’m wanting to say.”

“Then what?”

“I want you to fuck me,” you blatantly spoke. Mitch took a moment to process, the man slower than normal on this matter. He was amazingly smart and talented, Orion’s star member, but the cogs weren’t turning at nearly four in the morning. He blinked once, eyes narrowing on your face, lips parting.

“I’m sorry,” he hummed, inching closer to you. His cock pressed against your core, sliding through your folds as he spoke slowly. His voice was deep and husky, a certain gruffness make your heart race. “I don’t think I quite heard you right. Do you mind,” he paused, licking his lips slowly with a glint in his dark eyes, “repeating that for me?”

“I. Want. You. To.” you stopped, pushing yourself up on the bed until your lips hit the shell of his ear, the man shivering. “Fuck. Me. Mitch. Rapp.”

You were pulled completely off the bed in a flash, your head spinning half from the whirl and half from the pleasure that encompassed your body. You couldn’t hold back the loud moan that built in your throat, the noise directed into his ear. Your arms wrapped securely around his waist, your body pulled taut against him, his cock buried hilt deep inside you. Your knees rested on either side of him, Mitch leaning back on his knees. His hands were laid across your back, fingers spread with light scratches of his nails against your skin.

“God, I missed this,” he groaned, his bucking upwards into you. Your head buried instantly into his neck, sucking a dark mark to claim him as your as a way to stay silent. His soft, fluffy hair flopped to the side when his hair tilted away, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “I love you, Y/N.”

“And I love you,” you mumbled into his neck.

Mitch smiled, hands moving to your hips, moving your body against him. The awkward position made it hard for him to easily thrust into you. Instead, he opted to help you do the work instead, guiding your body up and down atop him, his cock burying itself deep into your soaked pussy. The motion started slow and steady, quickly turning into an obnoxious slap of hips against hips, legs colliding from your sitting stance.

“Mitch,” you cooed into him. He took that as encouragement for more, his hips bucking upwards into you, your squealing moans turning into sharp screams. Your arms hugged him tighter, breasts pressing against his bare pecs. Your head fell back, Mitch pressing kisses to your collarbone, never slowing his movements. The tip of his cock hit your g-spot repeatedly, the sensual rubbing of his cock against it making you shake in his hold. “Fuck, just like that.”

“You like that?” he asked breathlessly. He pushed the nightgown up so it was a bundle of fabric above your navel, his grip tightening and his fingers drawing circles against your stomach. His hips bucked upwards, pistoning as fast as he could into you. “You like when I fuck you like this?”

“God yes,” you cried out, a hard tug on his hair following. “More!”

You pulled roughly this time, Mitch losing his balance and falling forward slightly. You squealed as you fell back on the bed, his cock never leaving you. Your head hit the pillow, hazy eyes staring up at the man. He had caught himself before he collapsed on top of you, straightening his back. Your eyes met from afar, the same lustful look glistening within your irises.

His arms ducked under your legs, the backs of your knees matching the bend of his elbows, your feet dangling helplessly in the air. His fingers left bruises from their hold on your thighs. Before you could blink, his hips snapped into yours, deep pounding thrusts slapping into you. You screamed his name, back arching and eyes closing, writhing on the bed from the pleasure. The assassin kept a strong pace, his chest heaving with pants from his powerful thrusts. Your legs and breasts bounced with each thrust forward. Your bodies slapped together noisily, the room flooded with moans and echoing skin.

“Oh God,” you rasped. “I’m cumming, Mitch,” you moaned. Your back arched further off the bed, palming your own breasts to push yourself over the edge. Mitch watched you tweak your own nipples, turning into a moaning mess. “I’m cumming!”

He groaned loudly at the hugging walls around his cock, slowing his thrusts to a gentle push. Your juices washed around him for the second time that night, your body shaking from the intense orgasm Your vision spotted, feeling the waves of juices seep out of you and into his skin, Mitch’s tantalizingly slow thrust prolonging the high you were having. It was worse when his fingers skimmed your clit, pressing down on it for added effect.

He pulled out of you, turning you on your side. You sighed sadly when he curled up behind you, his arm around your waist. You weren’t satisfied. You felt empty and incomplete. Your body was craving more from your time apart. At this point, you were fully prepared to take him until you couldn’t any longer, sleep the last thing on your list of priorities.

“Mitch-” you started, turning to him. You were silenced when his lips met yours, your eyes fluttering closed at the feeling. You melted into his touch, lips like jigsaw pieces coming together. Your lips parted to allow his tongue free reign to wander between your cheeks, your husband taking full advantage of the access. His nude body inched closer to you, your mouths moving together. Whenever he pulled away for a small puff of air, the sound of your lips disconnecting - a resounding smooch - rang through our ears, your body buzzing before he leaned in for more. Your lips never stopped moving against each other, spending multiple minutes in each others grasps kissing.

Your hand carefully grasped his cock, stroking him soothingly, the man groaning against your lips. He pulled away with a soft smack, wetting his swollen lips with a swipe of the tongue. Your lips matched his - plump and red and deliciously kissable still. He kissed down your cheek, your head tilting away to give him access to your neck. The tip of his cock slid along your folds between your legs, the man thrusting between your thighs playfully.

“Mitch,” you whimpered. “Please. I want more of you.”

“What do you want?” he asked. Walking two fingers up your body, cupping your breast. His fingertips dusted over the nipples, your whines growing. “Tell me, baby. What do you want?”

“I want you to fuck me hard and fast until I can’t see straight,” you pleaded. “I want you to choke me until I’m seeing stars.” You turned to stare into his whiskey eyes, kissing him softly. “I want you to cum inside me, daddy.”

“Fuck,” he grunted, cucking into your backside. “Say it again.”

“It?”

“You know,” he grumbled. “Say it and I will fulfill your request. Say it and I will fuck you until the sun rises.” He connected your lips, tugging your lip with his teeth. “Say it and I will please you like you’ve never been pleased.”

“You know, that’s kind of hard considering you always please me,” you joked. Mitch’s expression didn’t reflect your amusement. “Fine.” Clearing your throat, you said with your heart racing in the most seductive voice possible, “Fuck me, daddy.”

“God, that’s better than my dream,” he groaned, lifting your leg, his cock sliding in easily. You let out a straggled moan in response, not recognizing when he draped your leg back over his body, leaving your legs parted and his hands free. One arm slithered under your head while the other found refuge on your chest, his hips speeding up against your ass. It wasn’t long until he was pounding into you, his hips colliding with your ass in deafening slaps.

“Fuck!” You screamed loudly, clawing at the sheets and pulling them from the edges of the mattress. Your words egged the assassin on, his thrusts sliding deep inside you. His cock pulsed, twitching from left to right, making your body flare up like the sun. The tip hit your g-spot and cervix, rattling your nerves and sending goosebumps up your spine.

Your ass pressed back against his hips, Mitch stilling to allow you to thrust. He listened to you moan his name loudly while trying to suppress his own moans. His abs tightened when he sat u slightly, watching the smooth motion of his cock emerging from your core, covered in layers of arousal before easing back in with a slick sound. Your ass jiggled when it hit his hips, Mitch wetting his lips slowly. He hardened more inside you just from the sight, earning another loud moan.

“Daddy loves when you ride his cock,” Mitch breathed into your ear, moving his hand to palm your ass instead. He pulled back slightly, his hand connecting to your skin with a smack, almost like the crack of a whip. You moaned loudly for him, Mitch repeating the action. His thrusts resumed, swapping between ravenous thrusts and vicious slaps. Your ass was red with handprints, your nerves at their peak.

“Fuck, Mitch,” you mewled, clawing at his hand. “More, daddy. Please. Fuck me.”

He grunted in satisfaction, eyes closing to focus on his movements. The hand under your head wound around your throat in a tight grip, constricting your airway but remaining loose enough to not choke you to death like you knew he could. Black spots formed in your sight, but your body was on cloud nine, floating in a different plane completely. The pleasure of his pistoning cock was amplified, the smoldering fire inside you becoming a raging wildfire that control your entire form. Your body tingled, your mind a blur so much that you didn’t recognize the rubbing on your clit from his other hand.

“F-Fuck,” you struggled to say, losing yourself to the ecstasy. “M-Mitch.”

“Shit,” he grunted lowly, his throat vibrating with the sound. His eyes closed, chasing the orgasm he wished to have - the one he knew he was about to have. He could feel the pressure building inside him. He was bound to explode at any second and he was more than ready for it. He carefully tilted your head towards him, his eyes cracking open with a glazed look. “I love you, Y/N Rapp.”

His grip loosened, allowing you to speak properly. Your lips brushed his as you spoke in a soft tone, “I love you, Mitch Rapp.”

He pressed his lips to yours in a passionate kiss, the two sealed tight together. His hips bucked wildly against you, his sloppy thrusts sputtering. His cock twitched, your walls tightened. Your fingers laced together until your bodies were exploding with fireworks simultaneously, slowing to careful thrusts. Your juices flowed around him like a waterfall, hugging him like he was your lifeline. His white, hot seed spewed from the tip, the strings coating your walls and mixing with your arousal inside you. You clung to him just as much as he clung to you, neither of you wanting to let the other go.

He slowly pulled away from the kiss, licking his lips to savor the taste before letting his eyes flutter open once more, meeting your direct stare. You gave him a gentle smile, brushing your fingers through his hair and along his stubbled jaw, connecting his hidden moles.

“I love you,” you whispered again, Mitch smiling.

“I love you,” he replied, kissing your forehead. His lips lingered, resting in the comfort of your presence. It’s good to be home, he told himself, wanting the moment to be everlasting.

You shuffled in his hold, taking his hand and kissing his fingertips. He sighed, knowing he needed to move, his cock already going limp inside you. Your bodies were coated in sweat, genitals dripping with a mixture of fluids. He slowly pried his hand from yours, leaving another kiss on your forehead before slipping from your core and sliding off the bed.

You watched him waddle towards the bathroom, grinning at his cute ass in the darkness. “You know, you have the best ass?” you called out, covering your head with the blanket when he flicked on the light. Your ears perked up at his deep chuckle. “What? It’s true. Your training shaped that ass in the best way. Have you seen it? And you have these cute little moles along your skin. Little constellations because you are out of this world.”

“That was cheesy,” he laughed. You heard the cabinets slam and the water run, knowing he was grabbing a wet cloth. “And never call my ass cute again please. It’s just…”

Mitch paused in his thought, his eyes staring at an object on the counter. His brow knit together, his shaky hand extending to pick it up. He stared at it for a moment, trying to process what he was staring at. He wasn’t sure how he had missed it earlier.

“Babe?” he called, your head peeking out of the covers.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, crawling out of bed. You rubbed at your eyes to try and adjust to the light, padding your way towards him. You stopped in the doorway when you saw what he was holding. “Oh.”

“Is this…” he started, his mouth dry. Yet, his voice held a hint of excitement, his feet moving one at a time closer to you. “Is this for real?”

“Yes,” you told him calmly, your smile large.

“We’re pregnant?” he asked, handing you the stick the words clearly reading ‘pregnant’ in bold, blue letters. “This is real?”

“It’s real, Mitch,” you whispered. “I took three boxes and they all said the same thing. I still need to schedule an appointment just to be completely sure but-” you stopped, taking his hand and resting it on your stomach. “There’s a mini assassin in the making.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was going to surprise you after we got some rest. You got home late and I wanted to tell you in person.”

He blinked. “That’s why you waited up.”

“You caught me,” you laughed. “Assuming I’m right, I would be about a month along.”

“The not-honeymoon yet still honeymoon sex,” he grinned, pulling you closer. He kissed your forehead softly, your head burying in his chest. “You know this means you aren’t leaving my sight anytime soon. I’m not risking losing you or the baby.”

“I know,” you said. “But I don’t have anything to worry about because I’m married to my best friend and the best assassin the CIA could ever ask for. And I know you would never let anything hurt us.”

“The faith you have in me,” he hummed. His hands cupped your face, lifting it to face him. “Y/N, we’re having a baby.”

“We’re having a baby,” you told him, hugging him. Mitch smiled largely, larger than ever. “We’re starting a family.”

He laughed, lifting you from the ground and spinning you in circles, listening to your adorable laughter. Neither of you cared that you were nearly nude at it was the odd hours of the night. You were ecstatic beyond belief. “We’re starting a family!” he cried, placing you on the floow, peppering your face in kisses. His lips rested against your forehead, kissing it repeatedly, mumbled over and over, “we’re having a baby.” You melted into his arms, letting yourself relax in the moment.

He finally pulled away long enough to clean your bodies, fixing your nightgown when he was done. You were lifted from the ground, Mitch carrying you back to the bed. He tucked you in before grabbing the discarded boxer briefs from the floor, adjusting the band. The sun’s rays peered through the curtains, Mitch crawling into his spot by your side.

“I told you I would fuck you until the sun came up,” he joked. You yawned at him in response, Mitch laughing. “Get some more sleep, baby. You need it and I’m not going anywhere.”

“You need to sleep too,” you mumbled sleepily. “Just don’t have any more wet dreams about me.”

He let out a sarcastic snort at your joke, nuzzling into your shoulder. You smiled, your nose digging into his hair. “No promises,” he mumbled, kissing your shoulder this time. “I can never stop thinking about you. You’re always on my mind and you just have this way with me.”

“Well, I can’t say I’m mad about these wet dreams,” you muttered, voice fading. “Because that was amazing.”

“Just like you,” he whispered, listening to your steady breathing. Mitch followed suit quickly, hugging you to his body, never to let you go.

This is a dream come true.

Errthang Tag 2.0: @catcrown21; @parislight; @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone; @savage-stilinski; @honeymoonmuke; @rumoured-whispers; @youshiverwhenyouhearmyname; @caitsymichelle13; @addicttotw; @fox-lau; @xmadwonderland; @kaelyn-lobrutto24; @lobrien; @kal-pal; @espermirror; @nowthisiswaar; @belleknows; @ashpie97; @mixedupsammy; @dylobrienlover; @newtosaur250; @bandsweyhey; @crystals-marie; @livinginadreamersparadise; @tommyswolves; @veronicarapp; @bilesbilinskix; @danathewitchywoman; @thisismexxo; @you-all-have-guns; @soulaura-canavel; @bojabee; @obrienswxlf; @feelingsareharddd; @xoitsjustmexo; @supernaturaltakeover; @suggsmate; @cassiee867; @malia--stilinski; @barryallenplease; @flirtstiles; @bottleoffirewhisky; @jadalecki-jackles; @evansesdust; @everythingthatisrandom

Want to be tagged? Send as ask! - Bold accounts are ones I cannot tag.

Note: Tag list has been cleaned up as of 3.28.2018. If you were removed, please send me an ask so I can re-add you.

[charlesoberonn]

Desert Ship (Part 1 of 2)

For generations, my family line has been bless with the ability to control sand. “It’s our gift.” my father told me over and over again whenever he was around.

My ability first appeared when I was thirteen years old, when I managed to lift a single grain of sand in the air. I quickly tossed it around between me and my half-siblings. For the next few days I just ran between the communal tents, throwing sand around and making shapes in the sand with my siblings and friends much to the enjoyment of my mother and the annoyance of everybody else in the tribe.

That saturday, when my dad arrived to pick me up for his week of custody, I showed him my abilities. I was already able to move a mound of sand the size of a small vase. He was impressed, but he had a devious smile on his face. He asked me if I wanted to come on a trip with him in order to test my powers for real. I obviously accepted.

He took me to the middle of a dried up lake, quite a bit away from home. I held onto his shoulders as he swiftly carved our way through the sandy ground. His torso was poking out of a mound of sand, which was travelling across the ground at high speed. The wind was in my hair, but the sand blew out the sides of the mound and didn’t reach my eyes. I never noticed that in all the other times my dad took me out for a ride on his back. But now that I could control the sands as well, I learned to appreciate such details.

Finally, after nearly four hours of riding, with no more than a single stop for water and food, we reached our destination. At first it looked like a black dot in the bottom of the large empty basin. As we got closer and closer, I saw the dot take shape until I realized it was a vessel. But it wasn’t the kind of I expected to find there.

It was a ship. Only a small boat, about the length of five camels, and nearly three times as tall, not including its impressive poll, which lacked any sort of mast.

My dad nudged me to get off his back. I slid down the sand mound onto the ground which was surprisingly cool. The entire region was fairly chill compared to the desert I was used to, but it was still dry and sandy. I looked up at the ship. It was light brown and made of clay, nothing like the ships I’ve seen in picture books. It seemed to have burn marks, or something similar, around the top. Its bottom was buried under the sad I was currently standing on.

My father jumped out of his sand mound, landing on both his feet and shaking the last few grains off of his robe. He put a hand on my shoulder and looked up at the ship with me. “Do you recognize it, child?” he asked me.

I nodded. “It’s a boat.”

“Yes, indeed it is. But this boat hasn’t much longer on this earth.” he said.

I looked at him with childlike worry in my big eyes. “Why? What’s gonna happen to it?”

“You see, my child. In about one week, the rain season will come.” he pointed to the clouds in the far east, so distant and faint I could barely see them. “The rain will overflow the dried creaks and fill up the dams and rivers beyond this lake. This desert ground is not gonna be able to handle so much water.”

“It’s gonna be flooded.” I said.

“Exactly. And when it does, the water will rush in and crash into this boat, destroying it.”

“That fucking sucks.” I said and blushed, knowing I could only swear when my mom wasn’t around. My dad laughed.

“It sure does. But it doesn’t have to. You can save this boat.” he pointed at where we came from. “Use the sand, and carry this boat out of the lake before the rainy season washes it to oblivion.”

I opened my eyes wide, fixated on the boat. The small vessel now seemed massive. “But, but, it’s huge!” I pointed at the trail of sand through which we arrived. “And that’s 100 km away!”

“It’s only 73. Don’t worry, you’ll do fine.” he said, and he already took off. “I’m gonna set up a tent over here where we’ll sleep. Get started on the ship!”

“You’re a real asshole, dad!” I shouted at him.

“I know!” he shouted back.

The first day was the hardest. I tried several approaches but none of them yielded any results. At first I circled the ship looking for the best way to tackle it, but it seemed immovably huge and heavy no matter where I looked.

I tried going at it directly with force, just pushing as much sand as I could at it. But my paltry sand blasts did nothing to move it. I anything, it only added to the pile of sand that encircled the boat.

I tried lifting part of the boat from underneath, but it didn’t budge. On the other hand, I nearly collapsed as my hands and my mind strained in moving the sand stuck beneath the clay.

Clay! I finally realized. The ship was made of clay, that was a type of earth. I didn’t need to push the ship. I could move it directly. But I couldn’t make it respond. Not even a single budge. The ship wasn’t even resisting my sand power, it was simply unresponsive.

As the sun went down and the desert started getting much colder, I was already exhausted. I tried one last thing. I cleared as much sand away from around the ship as I could, trying to see what was underneath it. All I could see is more sand. It didn’t make any sense. I didn’t even see the bottom of the boat.

After an hour of digging, I was completely spent. I dragged myself into the nice and well lit tent my dad set up. Inside, the floor was already insulated and carpeted and a nice meal was cooking over the fire pit he set up. My dad might not be the most considerate of fathers, but he is an excellent vagabond.

As we were eating around the fire, I told my dad about everything I did. And how I went about doing so, and to his credit, he didn’t crack too many jokes about my failure, mostly just a tease here or there. I wasn’t too keen on them at the time, though. My arms were too tired to flip him the bird.

“Do you want me to help train you tomorrow?” he asked as we finished the meal and he started using the sand to scrub our plates clean.

“That was an option?” I asked with a groan, overreacting a bit. “Isn’t this supposed to be a test?”

“Of your abilities, yes. Not my patience. I want to see you succeed. Come on, tomorrow I’ll teach you some stuff.”

“Can’t we just skip the boat part then and just have you teach me?”

“Nope.”

The next day was a lot more pleasant. Dad told me the broth he gave me last night was a special superfood meant to restore my strength and my sand powers. He was right, after a comfortable sleep in the warm tent, I was as good as new. Or at least as good as somebody who had to wake up before dawn could be.

“Okay, the first thing I’m gonna teach you is the physics of sand.” he told me.

I groaned in response. “Physics?! I can do that back home. Teach me how to make a mound and travel real fast like you do.”

“Now, my child. I know this is boring, but I’ll try to simplify it for you.” he reached down and put his hand into the sand. “Sand is like a pillow, it’s full of tiny air pockets hiding between the grains. The deeper you go into the sand, the more it gets squished by the sand above it, and the denser it is. The closer the sand is to the surface, the less dense it is.”

He moved his hand, and a thin circle of sand cleared on the ground between us, no more than a centimeter deep. “Try to think of the desert not as a sandbox, but as layers. Each layer has to carry the weight of the layers above it. When you clear the top layer, the layers below it become more accessible.”

“Now.” he pointed at me. “Try to remove only the top layer of sand from over there. Try making a circle of 20cm in diameter.”

I walked over to the spot and moved the sand. It wasn’t at all a single layer, nor was it a circle. It was more like a tiny groove in the ground which quickly filled in as the sand around it rushed into it.

“Keep doing that until you succeed.” dad said as he stood up behind me.

I kept trying, and each time I simply created slightly flatter pits and holes in the sand. In a few minutes, the area around us looked like a gang of moles dug through it looking for treasure.

“Layers, child. Layers.” my dad said, a familiar sense of discomfort in his voice, very much mirroring my own. Though he seemed to have a lot more patience than me.

“What layers? I don’t see them. I just feel sand.” I sat down on the ground, pouting. “My legs are tired.”

“My child.” he grabbed me by the armpit and gently but firmly lift me back up onto my feet. He put a hand on my shoulder. “Do you feel the weight of your head on your shoulders?”

“Yeah?”

“And do you feel the weight of your shoulders and your head on your upper back?”

“I guess so?”

“And the weight of your torso on your pelvis?”

“I think I do.”

“And the weight of your entire body on your feet?”

“Yes. I do. My feet are killing me.”

“Those are layers. Now...” he pointed at a spot on the ground I haven’t yet ruined. “Take off the top of the head.”

I concentrated on the top of my head, the very top that isn’t supporting any weight. And with a swift movement, I pictured cutting it clean off. I looked down, and saw the flat divot I caused in the sand.

“Again!” he encouraged me, and I did it again, this time bigger.

I continued taking off layers in the sand. Each time I was getting closer to a perfect circle. After that, we moved on to second layers, and third ones. Dad even taught me more advanced techniques where I would swap two different layers to make removing both at once easier. Later he showed me the hand movement required to make waves in the sand with one or two layers, which we would drag away into an ever growing pile behind us as we made wave after wave.

Once again nightfall came. We returned to the tent. As we were eating another rejuvenating broth, my father stopped eating to compliment me. “You’re a very fast learner. It took me days until I was able to make waves.” he told me. “Then again, I was just splashing sand around and building elaborate castles until I was 14.” he joked.

I was excited. “I’m gonna move that ship tomorrow!” I promised him. And he smiled at me.

“I’m sure you will, my child.”

On the third day I felt a mix of excitement and fear. I was ready for the day. I was ready to move that boat, and I was even going to ask my father to teach me more techniques. My path was set, I was going to make it happen. What was once a tedious week became the best week ever, I was sure of it.

But in the early morning sky, much closer than before, I could clearly see storm clouds in the distant. It seemed my father’s forecast was going to come true. I didn’t have much time.

I stepped out onto the ship again, and I noticed something weird. All of the divots of sand and circles and waves my father and I made yesterday were gone. It made sense for the small holes and initial tiny waves to be swept away in the wind, but the enormous pile we both created was gone too. Erased from the sand. I put my hand onto where I remembered it was. The sand was clearly shifted there, different layers were mixed together and stacked on top of each other weirdly. But the pile itself was flat.

I grew concerned, but it wasn’t going to deter me. Today was about my plan, and my progress. I was going to make the ship move. I even had a plan on how to do it. A schedule.

The first hour I would clear the first layer of sand from all around the boat. The second hour I would start making waves around the back, until it was completely clear. Then, I would go ask my dad how to create moving mounds like he does. And tomorrow, I’m gonna start pushing the ship with my new ability.

I was a fast learner, after all.

But my plan wasn’t going as well as I hoped. Removing the layers wasn’t as straight forward as before. The perimeter of sand around the ship was easy enough, but the sand underneath and immediately next to the vessel was more difficult. The sand didn’t behave like I thought it should. It felt less like layers and more like columns. I tried removing the layers of the underground columns one by one like with the ground around it, but they didn’t budge. I decided to forgo phase one and move straight onto clearing the sand behind the ship.

I started making waves, and at first it was great. The sand moved easily underneath the clay body of the ship and I was making progress fast. The ship was even tilting a bit. I audibly cheered for myself when the ship first moved. It was a first step to success. The rest was just hard work.

But hard work became harder work, and later impossible work. Clearing the sand was an uphill battle. I created an ever larger pile of sand behind me, large enough to be called a small dune, but still it seemed like the sand never ran out. It just glided under the ship straight to me, and then more sand replaced it, rocking the ship left and right. It was an uphill battle, and I was losing.

As the sun came down and stars started appearing, I wasn’t nearly as close to completing any of the phases I set out to myself. And I didn’t even ask dad about phase three.

I sat back to lean against the dune I made, but was startled when instead I fell backwards onto the ground. The dune behind me was smaller than before. Much smaller. Barely a molehill in size. I looked around, wondering where it has gone. Then I saw it, a slight shift of sand flowing like a river away from my dune and back onto the underside of the boat. Even the perimeter of sand I cleared earlier was filling up again.

“Oh yeah, I forgot to mention!” my dad startled me again as shouted from just outside the tent. “The sand in this desert likes to put itself back together!”

My eyes opened wide with horror. I looked at the ship, which barely moved an inch since day one, and then at the approaching rainclouds.

“You’re such an asshole, dad!”

[mf-despair-queen]

Crawling Chaos - Part One - Void Stiles

Author: @mf-despair-queen​

Characters: Void Stiles/Reader

Word Count: 3,496

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Oral (Female receiving), Fingering, Riddles

Notes: My first Void smut? My first Void smut. Not sure how well this will really go tbh because I don’t think I’m good at portraying Void. But let me know for sure if you do like it. This idea has been in my mind for a few weeks now, and all because I was listening to one certain anime opening at work called Koi wa Chaos no Shimobenari. It kind of gave me the idea for what to do with this, even though it has NOTHING to do with the song. Also, side note, i did use Google Translate for one small thing in here. Don’t blame me if it is wrong.

Part 2  Part 3

The moon barely broke through the treetops, but you could see perfectly. You wandered alone through the dark abyss of the woods, unsure where you were at this point. You had been on the run for so long that you didn’t care where you ended up at this point. You just knew you were somewhere in California..

You knelt down by a bush, observing the tiny flowers that were blooming on its branches. They swayed gently in the breeze, your nose picking up on the faint aroma they were exuding. You gave a tiny smile, running your fingers over the petals careful.

With one touch, the flowers began to wither.

You smile widened, watching the flowers die in front of you. These were the little things that you lived for. It may sound odd, but it’s true. Everywhere you went, disaster followed. Every time you stepped into a town, chaos ensured. The people turned mad, turning against each other in an instant. And you know what?

It made you happy.

The flower dropped to the ground, your bare foot smashing it into the dirt. You giggled at the action, feeling the crunch of it under your toes. You spotted another bush with flowers, skipping over to it to repeat the actions.

“Little dove, who let you out of your cage?”

You froze, your fingers inches from the next flower you were about to kill. You turned to the mysterious voice, spotting a figure sitting atop a giant tree trunk. You could feel the power the tree held, as well as the ominous aura of the figure atop it.

You slowly stood up, taking a good look at the person who addressed you. He was pale with dark circles evident under his dark, whiskey eyes. His chocolate colored hair was disheveled, sticking up in random directions. He had a smirk plastered on his smooth, luscious lips. Moles littered his perfectly defined jawline. He sat cross-legged on the stump, clad in some khakis and a gray striped shirt. You guessed he had some decent muscle under that shirt with the way it clung to his arms and chest. You were even more sure of what the package down below held, a small bulge apparent in his crisscrossed legs.

You narrowed your eyes at the male, pursing your lips. You were trying to stay calm, unsure what to expect with him. “It’s kind of hard to keep me caged. I always seem to slip out. What about you? Someone let you roam free without a leash?”

The man chuckled lowly, leaning back on his hands. “No one can contain me.” You smiled slightly, thrilled by his resilience to the world. There was something about the man in front of you that excited you. He crawled off the stump, slowly making his way towards you. “Now, tell me. What exactly are you, little dove? What kind of beautifully destructive being are you?”

His hand cupped your cheek, his fingers caressing it gently. His eyes bore into yours, your face heating up with him being near. “Y-You probably wouldn’t know what I am. And if you do, you wouldn’t believe me.”

He grinned, a dark glint in his eyes. “Try me, little dove.”

Your mouth was dry, and swallowing did nothing to relieve the pain it was causing. You licked your lips, his eyes following its every move. “I’m a nyarlathotep.”

He blinked slowly, processing what you said. Within a second, he burst out laughing, stepping away from you. “The crawling chaos? You’re the crawling chaos? I’ve hit the fucking motherload. This is brilliant.”

You cocked your head, missing the warmth of his body already. “How exactly is that good for you? It’s good for me, yes. I’m the one that enjoys it.”

He jumped atop the tree trunk, looking down at you. “Oh kitten. You haven’t realized what I am then?”

Sending him a glare, you took in his features once more. Aside from the dark aura surrounding his being, he seemed like an ordinary human. He didn’t smell different. You could almost mistake him for being weak ad fragile if you didn’t know he had real muscle hiding under his clothes. Your eyebrows knit together, frustration on your face. I’m sorry. You look like an ordinary human If you ask me.”

“So simple, kitten.” He jumped off the stump, taking long strides towards you. You took a few steps back, your back colliding with a nearby tree. His hand gripped the bark, trapping you against it before you could slip free. “I’m sure in your time on this earth you’ve heard of a nogitsune.”

Your eyes locked with his, widening slightly. “I’ve only heard tales. Never met one personally though.” You looked him up and down now that he was closer, smirking slightly. “You took over a teenage boy? Whatever possessed you to do that?”

He chuckled, twirling a piece of your hair around his finger. “He was open to it. A smart but easy mind I could slip inside. But I could ask the same thing about you. Why take the form of an innocent, young girl?”

You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck. In the sweetest voice you could muster, you said, “Well, no one would ever suspect an innocent girl like me to turn a town mad, now would they?”

He groaned, shifting against you. “I can’t argue that fact, kitten.” He licked his lips, his breath fanning over your face. “Being near you sure in enticing, kitten. I can feel the chaos you possess within you. It’s delicious.” You felt something prodding at your thigh, a soft whimper escaping your lips. “We could do great things together, kitten. Together, we can spread chaos through all of Beacon Hills. What do you say?”

You nodded, tugging him closer by the shirt. Your breathing was coming out in shallow pants, your body warm against his. “I will only play with you if you play with me first. I’m not one to help another so lightly. Show me how devious you can be, nogitsune.”

His eyes glinted in the faint moonlight, a mysterious twinkle in them. “Well then, let’s play a game, kitten. Answer my riddles, and I will reward you. Also, just call me…Void.”

You glared at him. “Riddles? That’s the best you got, Void?” You meant to taunt him, attempting to manipulate him to do what you wanted. But he didn’t budge, messing with the buttons on the shirt you were wearing.

“First one. The more you have it, the less you see. What is it?” He slowly began undoing the buttons, feeling your chest moving as you held your breath. He saw the wheels turning, trying to find the answer. He knew you couldn’t resist answering.

“Darkness.” You said confidently. He nodded, ripping the shirt the rest of the way, the buttons flying in different directions and getting lost in the dirt and leaves. The cold air hit your chest, a shiver running through your body. “Shit, it’s cold outside.”

“And yet, you have no shoes on.” He quipped, running his fingers along your skin. “You chose a nice form this time around. Beautiful to the eye, but reeking of chaos and strife. What else do you got, kitten?” His hand tugged at your bra, leaving you to mentally curse the human contraption. “Next riddle. I pass before the sun, yet make no shadow. What am I?”

You huffed, tugging on his shirt. You were getting annoyed, partially from the riddles and partially from the lack of interaction he was giving you. You were burning up inside, and he wanted to tell you riddles. “The wind,” you muttered through clenched teeth. He didn’t waste a second, the bra ripping easily between his fingers. Your breasts bounced freely from its confines, nipples already erect from the cold.

Void licked his lips, staring down at them. “Correct. You’re a smart one kitten. Contemplate this one while I reward you. What is it that is deaf, dumb and blind and always tells the truth?”

You blinked once, Void gone from your sight before you knew it. His lips wrapped around one of your nipples, his tongue running over the bud slowly. You moaned aloud, your hands tangling in his hair. Your mind blanked, only thinking about the feeling his mouth was giving you. His hand gripped at the other breast, groping it between his fingers, making the veins in his hand pop out more. Your moans grew louder, his tongue flicking over the nipple repeatedly. He paused only once to swap breasts, repeating his actions.

You were shaking under him, trying to focus on the riddle he gave you. “It’s a-a…fuck!” You screamed, his fingers tweaking one nipples while his teeth nibbled at the other. Your head fell back against the tree, your hair getting stuck in the bark. You were writhing against him, struggling to stay composed. “A-a mirror! A fucking mirror! Fuck!”

He released the nipple with an audible pop, sucking on random spots on your chest. “Good girl. How am I doing so far?”

You scowled at him. “You’re a prick.”

He chuckled, popping the button on your jeans and slipping his hand into your panties. His fingers flicked against your core, collecting the juices that leaked out. “Mmm. You say that, but I obviously am doing something right.” He pulled his hand out, leaving you whimpering. “Get this one right, and I will reward you again. What can you break without hitting or dropping it?”

You gripped at his arms, your nails digging into the material of his shirt. They flexed under you, confirming your suspicions that he had hidden muscles. He pressed you closer to the tree, his lips brushing against yours briefly. You whimpered again, barely managing to utter anything “A-a promise.”

“I got a smart one right here.” He dipped down, tugging the jeans and panties down your silky legs, stripping them from around your ankles and discarding them into the bushes. He blew against your folds, feeling your legs trembling. “Now, let me hear you scream, kitten.”

His mouth connected with your entrance, swiping his tongue along your folds. You mewled, your fingers gripping at his hair, tugging it relentlessly. You felt his lips tug upwards, his tongue delving into your dripping pussy. It swirled in circles, gathering every drop of liquid you had released.

“Void,” You whined, your legs turning to jelly. His tongue thrust into you quickly, wiggling against your walls. His ears perked up at the growing volume of your whines, your hips thrusting into his face. His tongue went deeper, rubbing your walls with the tip. “I need to feel more. Please.”

He pulled away, replacing his tongue with two fingers, scissoring them while he drove into you. Your whines turned into small screams, your teeth digging into your lip to muffle them slightly. His tongue grazed your clit, flicking at the nub continuously. His fingers pounded your pussy, rubbing against your sensitive spots every time.

“Come on, kitten,” he taunted, nibbling at your clit. “I want to hear you scream. Scream while you cum.”

His lips wrapped around your clit, giving it a hard suck. His hand sped up, your body jerking more than before. You finally let out a loud scream, letting his name bounce off the trees while you came around his fingers, feeling your juices dripping freely down your thighs. Your body shook, your hands resting on his shoulders to keep from collapsing.

He lapped at your juices, licking his fingers clean once he pulled them from you. He carefully stood up, his hand resting on your hip to keep you steady. You were panting wildly, your eyes bearing holes into him. “One final riddle, kitten. Then I will tell you a secret.” You mumble a small curse, watching him tug the shirt he was wearing over your head. “No sooner spoken than broken. What is it?”

You stared at his toned chest, noting the patch of hair that was growing on his chest and the even more notable trail of hair that lined his stomach, disappearing into his khakis. You barely processed the fact that he had told you a riddle, your mind fixated on the handsome creature in front of your eyes.

“Well, kitten? What’s the answer?”

You blinked, looking back up with him. “Oh. Um.” You thought momentarily, staring into his dark eyes. “Silence. It’s silence, isn’t it?”

He grinned, leaning close to your ear. “So smart. Silence is correct. It’s also something we won’t be having here soon. Now, let me tell you a secret. Something only the two of us can know.” Your breath hitched, feeling his lips brush against the shell of your ear. He wet his lips, his tongue skimming against your earlobe, leaving you shaking at the small action. “Anata ga mohaya aruku koto ga dekinaku naru made, watashi wa anata o tsuyoku fakku shimasu. Anata wa watashi no namae o sakebudeshou.” You shivered at his words, clearly understanding what he had just told you.

I’m going to fuck you hard and fast until you can no longer walk. You will scream my name.

You fumbled with the button on his jeans, your lips colliding with his finally. He roughly shoved you against the tree, his mouth sloppily meshing with yours. Your tongues battled your dominance, his overtaking yours easily. His hips ground into yours while he kissed you, muffling your gasps of pleasure. His head tilted to the side, allowing him to enclose his lips completely around yours. You couldn’t deny that his lips were soft, but that was the least of your concerns currently. You just wanted to feel all of him.

He pulled back, helping undo his jeans, letting you push them down to his knees, his boxers following shortly after. You glanced down at his giant cock, watching it slap his stomach, seeing the precum seeping from the red tip, observing the way it twitched in anticipation. He hiked one of your legs up around his waist, aligning himself with your pussy. With one quick thrust forward, his cock burrowed into you to the hilt, a loud scream ripped from your throat.

He didn’t waste any time, slamming upwards into you, driving his cock into you ruthlessly. Your back scraped against the bark of the tree, red marks covering your soft skin. You gripped at his shoulders, scratching at his back as loud moans hit his ears. He let out small grunts, unrelenting as he smashed himself into you.

“Fuck me, Void. Oh my god!” Your head fell back, your leg tightening around his waist, allowing him to hit even deeper. He groaned in response, his fingers leaving dark bruises on your thighs from where they were pressing into you. The other hand gripped at your waist, helping you move so you would meet his thrusts rhythmically. They met in perfect unison, causing louder screams to echo through the woods.

He let go of your thigh, slipping his fingers to your clit, rubbing random, feverish motions at the engorged nub. He felt your walls tightening around his cock, your body squirming in his grasp. His name flew from your lips countless times, unraveling in his arms. Your toes curled into his back and the dirt, your back arching off the tree he was pounding you into. Your nails raked his back harshly, drawing small amounts of blood from the pressure. Your head buried into his neck, biting at it as you came around him, his moan fueling your orgasm. Your fluids splattered your walls around him, providing extra lubrication for his rough thrusts as you rode out your peak.

He grunted, pulled from you quickly, wrapping his arm around your waist. You squeaked when he picked you up off the ground, carrying you over to the trunk he had been perched upon earlier that night, his pants left on the ground. He placed you in front of it, spinning you so your back pressed against his chest. His hands fondled your breasts, his head dipping to kiss and bite at your neck. You moaned, feeling his stiff cock pressing against your back. Your body heated up quickly, your pussy aching for him.

“Void please. I need you still. Please.”

“Oh, kitten,” he chuckled menacingly. “We’ve barely started.” He pushed you forward, your hands catching on the trunk. His hand pressed into your back, his cock lining up with your pussy. The tip rubbed your entrance, his ears catching your mewls of anticipation. He grinned at your noises, proud of the mess he had made of you.

With one swift thrust, he was buried deep in your pussy, his cock pulsing against your walls. Your nails dug into the stump, claw marks left in its wake. You waited for him to move, shaking every time you felt him twitch inside of you. When he remained motionless, you glanced back at him, seeing his intense stare at you.

“Do you want me to do all the hard work?” You grumbled at him, Shifting your ass against him. He groaned slightly, his hands gripping your waist. “Fine. Don’t answer me, you dick.”

You shifted your hips backwards, feeling his cock bottom out before leaning forward. Once the tip was nearly out, you bottomed him out again, repeating the same motions over and over again. His groans got louder, his grip tightening. He helped lead your motions, guiding you as you thrust against him.

“Kitten, as lovely as this is, I need to fuck you harder.” You barely had time to process his words before he began pounding you once more. His momentum was solid, never faltering in his ungodly speed. You moaned noisily, a knot forming in your abdomen.

He propped one foot on the stump, giving him a new angle to thrust at. His cock pressed into your walls, nudging your g-spot constantly. You were barely standing, your arms becoming weak. Your body was shaking, spasms rolling through your body, pleasure and desire coursing through your veins.

His hand collided with your ass, a loud slap filling the air. You screamed at the contact, a rush of bliss filling you. He laughed, his thrusts increasing. “Oh, you like that kitten? Keep those screams coming, baby.” He smacked your ass again and again, enjoying the sounds that were coming from your lips.

Your walls hugged around him, clinging to his cock. “Void, I’m going to cum.” He moaned in response, his thrusts becoming sloppier by the second. He grabbed your ass, his cock twitching against your walls. You shuddered against him, your breath coming out in short pants.

“Go ahead, kitten. Scream for me as you cum.” One final hard thrust sent you spiraling, black spots filling your vision. You let out the loudest moan possible, the only word slipping passed your lips being Void’s name. Your body quaked, your orgasm rocking your being. Your fluids flooded around his cock, soaking it completely. Void moaned, his cock sputtering against you. His seed spilled from his tip, mixing with your juices inside of you. You were a moaning mess, Void wrapping his arm around you and pulling you up against him. Your back pressed against his chest, Void hugging you close to him. His lips met yours in a sensual kiss, you both coming down from your highs.

Your legs were shaking when he let you go, sitting you down on the stump. He foraged for your clothes, dropping yours next to you so he could get dressed. He watched you slowly get dressed, licking his lips in delight. You finished slipping his shirt over your head, since yours was ruined, looking up at the dark eyes of the fox.

“So, my little dove, what do you say about wreaking chaos through Beacon Hills with me?”

You tipped your chin in thought, a smile upon your lips. “Well, seeing as your just fed a LOT of chaos off me while you fucked me, I don’t think you need me anymore. Plus,” you leaned back on the stump, your hands softly caressing the flat top, “this here Nemeton doesn’t want me to spread chaos here. It wants me to head east. Guess I’m needed elsewhere.” You crawled off the stump, staring at Void’s shocked expression. “Oh, don’t feel bad honey. I had a lot of fun with you. I definitely will have a hard time walking that way.”

You pat his cheek, heading the opposite direction of the town you knew was there. “Toodaloo, Void. Spread lots of chaos for me. When you’re done here, come find me and we can have some real fun.”

You disappeared into the trees, leaving Void alone. He rubbed his chin, grinning evilly. “That woman. She really is the Crawling Chaos. She is driving me mad already.” He turned on his heel, adjusting his still hard cock in his pants. “I’m still turned on by her too. Fuck.”