#getting done with work a 9:30 pm only to go back at 6:30 in the morning two nights in a row

[make-me-your-animal]

When you almost hope you walk up with a headache so you can convince yourself to take a day off and relax.

[holdinggrudges]

what's my flavor? - sam winchester

pairing: sam winchester x reader

content: EXPLICIT 18+, oral (fem!receiving), vampire!sam, blood drinking, bloodplay (surprisingly little though tbh), fem!reader (afab anatomy + the word girl used in reference like three times or so), feeding being explicitly referred to as similar to drugs/getting high, mentions of serious illness (made up for plot reasons but still)

word count: 10.5K

summary: Working your way through college, you find a secretary job with great pay and more than enough downtime on the clock to get your coursework done. The only downside is that it leaves you with no choice but to attend night classes. But it's not so bad, especially with Mysterious Hot Guy attending them as well. Oh, and there's been blood bags going missing, but you're pretty sure that's not going to be relevant to your life any time soon.

notes: this was supposed to be pwp. it was also supposed to be posted on halloween. clearly, neither of those things happened. but fuck it, we ball. @cafekitsune for dividers <3

crossposted on ao3

You don’t understand how anyone could get through college without a job. You hear about people surviving off scholarships all the time, and you try your first year, you really do. But, God, something has to change. You can’t imagine working your way through school could be any more stressful than the budgeting, and the skipping meals, and the cards declining at the grocery store. 

So you get a job. A good one, too; a secretary job at an office ten minutes away from your apartment, and only twenty minutes away from campus. The job is easy, with plenty of downtime for you to work on your coursework, and the pay is good. Better than good, even. The only problem is the hours; 9-5 is great, generally, but not very convenient when setting up a college schedule. You’re relegated almost exclusively to night classes. Which is fine. Not ideal, but fine. 

You take four classes, two a night, and it leaves your Fridays wide open after work. It would truly be a perfect schedule if it didn’t mean you were on campus until 11 o’clock most nights. But the classes are relatively empty and none of your professors are total hardasses, so it’s not so bad. Actually, you start to really enjoy it. 

You make a little game out of studying the other students, trying to figure them out. The woman who sits in front of you in your statistics class is a stay-at-home mom, you think. The older man a few rows down in english is retired military. It’s interesting, and it gives you a reason to actually make it to class everyday. Well, that and Mysterious Hot Guy. 

Mysterious Hot Guy (or MHG, for short) is in two of your classes: your 6 o’clock political science class on Mondays and Wednesdays sitting a row down from you, and sitting beside you in your 8:30 biology class on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He first caught your eye because, frankly, he looks more like he should be on a movie set than night classes at a dinky community college. He’s drop dead gorgeous, and that’s putting it lightly. Even so, that’s not what has you so intrigued. Something about him is off somehow, strange in such a way that it has you completely captivated. Alluring in a way you can’t quite put your finger on, even outside his appearance. 

MHG hardly ever speaks. You’re pretty sure he’s only said one word to you the entire four weeks of the semester so far, and he sits literally a foot away from you every other day. He’s also, apparently, a genius. He never takes notes, never writes a single thing down, he never asks questions and never answers them either, for that matter. Still, you happened to catch a glimpse of his grade on the test your biology professor handed back last week, and he got a perfect score. 

He also doesn’t have a car. Or, rather, he doesn’t have a car of his own. Every Tuesday and Thursday as you’re walking back to your own car at almost 11 PM, he’s climbing into the passenger seat of an absolutely gorgeous vintage Chevrolet Impala that makes you simultaneously green with envy and desperate for him to push you up against the side of it. Or push you down against the backseat. Or the front seat, which you find out is a bench seat after some minor googling. Car like that, you’re not exactly gonna be picky about where. 

Still, even after all your observing, you don’t learn a single useful piece of information about MHG until six weeks into the semester—two weeks out from midterms—when your biology professor announces that you will be choosing your partners for the midterm project. You barely even let the words leave his mouth before you’re turning to your right, pouncing with what you hope is a normal amount of enthusiasm, although you’re so damn intrigued by this guy that all you can do is pray you don’t come across as a total stalker. “Hey. Would you wanna partner up?” 

MHG turns to you, his eyes wide in a way that leaves you a lot less hopeful about how normal your greeting was. “Uh. Me?” he asks, and his voice is…warm in a way you weren’t expecting. He could do audiobooks, or a podcast, or something—he has a nice voice is what you’re getting at.

You laugh. You’re almost a little starstruck—it makes sense; you’ve definitely turned this guy into your own personal celebrity. “Who else?” you respond, holding out your hand for him to shake. “I’m ____.” 

He eyes you for a moment before he clasps your hand and gives it a shake. Jesus, this guy must have anemia or something because his hand is fucking freezing. “Sam. Uh, Winchester. Sam Winchester.” His touch lingers for a moment before he tugs his hand back. “And…yeah. Yeah, we can…partner up.” 

Sam Winchester. Finally, a name to put to the face. No more thinking of him as Mysterious Hot Guy for you; you and MHG are on a first name basis now. “Awesome,” you say softly, and you really, desperately hope your smile looks less manic than it feels. “So. Sam. Would you mind giving me your number or something so we can set up a time and place to meet up?” 

He hesitates, but he does scribble a number down on the corner of his empty notebook page. “I, uh. I can’t do…daytime,” he tells you as he slides it over. 

Okay. Weird way to phrase that, but you assume he’s like you, he works during the day or something. So you shrug and take the proffered paper. “Me neither. I have work.” You pinch it between your fingers with a grin. “We’ll make it work.” 

He smiles at you, a shy sort of thing that makes your chest ache to draw out more. “Yeah. Okay.” 

You plug the number in your phone almost as soon as you get home, but it takes you almost an hour to actually text him. You go through probably a hundred different drafts before you finally land on: ‘hey!! it’s ____. does friday work for you? my only day without classes lol’ 

Once you press send, you figure you’ll probably have at least five minutes to freak out and overthink. Sam doesn’t really seem the type to be glued to his phone. Which is why, you suppose, that you nearly have a heart attack when your phone buzzes with a response no more than 30 seconds later. ‘Friday works. 7 at the library?’ 

‘see you then :)’ You debate over the smiley face for a solid minute and a half before finally sending it and then violently throwing your phone across the couch and screaming into your throw pillow. 

When you do finally work up the courage to pick your phone up again, he’s sent two texts back. ‘See you then.’ And then another one, a small bubble containing two characters: ‘:)’ Embarrassingly, you giggle alone in your living room. Oh, this guy is going to be the death of you. 

You spend the rest of the night googling Sam Winchester and coming up with absolutely nothing. He seems to have absolutely no social media presence at all, not even an old MySpace or a private Facebook account. The only reference you can find to his name at all has it listed as one of two sons of some random serial killer from, like, the 1800s, which is obviously useless. 

You give up your fruitless search with a sigh, closing your laptop and shoving it aside. Your tv is playing on some local news station—doesn’t matter which one, they’ve all been reporting the same story for weeks. You click it off, 100% disinterested in hearing about the blood bags going missing from local clinics for the millionth time this month. 

You go to bed and dream of brown hair and eyes that you just can’t quite place the color of, but you can swear you see them flash red.

Friday finds you at the library almost a full hour early. You’d agonized over your outfit all day yesterday, and for another half an hour after work to boot. In the end, you’d decided to go casual. After all, it is just a study date—and actually, not a date at all! A study meet-up. A study hangout, at best. The fact that you did your make-up and your hair for it is entirely irrelevant. 

It’s 6:45 when a cough draws your attention up from your phone. Sam is standing in front of you with another one of those shy smiles, and two coffee cups in his hands. Coffee cups from your favorite cafe. He shoves one in your direction. “Uh. I’ve noticed that you have drinks from here pretty often. And- I hope you don’t mind, but I…I read one of the cups? So. This is for you.” 

Your eyes flick over him, your heartbeat practically pounding out of your chest. So he’s been watching you too. Or—Jesus, not watching, that makes it sound creepy. Observing is a better word for it. He noticed a pattern in your coffee cups. He read one to find out what it was you were drinking. “Thanks,” you tell him, taking the cup from his hand. Turning it to read the writing, you find he’d gotten it right. Maybe you should find it creepy, actually. As it is, you’re sort of having a hard time not swooning. You beam at him. “I’ll…have to return the favor.” 

For some reason, that makes Sam laugh as he sits down across from you. “Sure.” He opens his backpack and takes out his laptop. “So, this project.” 

Sam, as it turns out, is a genius. Or at least exceptionally smart. A project that would’ve taken you hours on your own is done in record time with him, which leaves the two of you there at 7:30 with a fully completed midterm project and half-empty coffee cups. You don’t want to leave, and it seems Sam doesn’t either, as he closes his laptop and asks, “Why are you taking night classes?” like he’s really, genuinely curious. 

So you tell him. You tell him about trying to get through college on your own, deciding you needed a full time job, how it’s probably the best job you’ve ever had. You ask him the same question, and he tells you about his brother, who is, apparently, the one who drives that fucking awesome car. He drops Sam off at classes, and pretty much anywhere else he needs to go.

The two of you chat for an hour and a half before Sam gets a text that says his brother is literally going to leave him there if he doesn’t shag ass and get in the car pronto. So Sam walks you out of the library. 

“You know,” you blurt out before you can lose your nerve, “I feel like our classes would be a lot easier if we put our heads together like this. You know, regularly. Like, every Friday, maybe.” 

He ducks his head, smiling that same shy smile he’d had when he gave you the coffee. “Sure. Every Friday. Sounds…helpful.” 

You don’t realize until you get home that he never actually told you why he takes night classes. It turns out to be a pattern for him, as the two of you meet up week after week. You simultaneously feel like you know everything and nothing about him, and every week you like him more and more for it. Well, for that and the coffee that he gets you every time. 

It takes a week before he moves seats in your political science class. The Monday after the second Friday you meet up with him, you almost sit in the wrong seat because you’re so used to him sitting two rows ahead of you. Of course, when you realize what’s happened, Sam’s staring at you with an amused grin on his face, like he’s trying really hard not to laugh at you. So, you decide, you are friends, at least. And as far as friends go, Sam’s a pretty good one.

You and Sam text, constantly. Despite seeming relatively unplugged, he responds to you instantly almost every time. You hate to get your hopes up, but by the time finals roll around, you’re starting to really like him. You’re starting to think he really likes you too. 

He finishes his biology final on the last Thursday of classes long before you, but when you leave the classroom, you see him leaning against the wall, waiting. Again, you don’t want to get your hopes up, but when he lifts his head and sees you approaching him, you swear to God, you see his whole face light up.  He looks a little pale, maybe. But it also might just be the fluorescent lights of the hallway.

“How do you think you did?” he asks, falling into step beside you.

And, you think, it’s now or never, now, isn’t it? Classes are over. You may never see Sam again (although, you like to think the two of you are close enough now that you would at least remain friends outside of having classes together, but still, the sentiment remains). So you change the subject and ask, “Would you wanna get dinner with me on Saturday?” 

He pauses, freezes in place pretty much, and you stop to match him. “Dinner, like…dinner?” he asks, as if that question makes any sense. 

You laugh, a little awkward, and adjust your backpack straps. “Uh, yeah. Like, dinner.” You don’t want to explicitly mention it being a date. You feel like he likes you, you really do, but if you’re wrong…that rejection is going to sting. So you don’t say it, not explicitly. 

But still, Sam’s face lights up with a grin. “Yeah. I’d…really love to get dinner with you, actually. I’ll have to—I’ll text you. But…yes, yeah. I’d love to.” 

You’re pretty sure the smile on your face matches his. “Okay. Then, I’ll see you on Saturday. And you’ll text me.” 

“I’ll text you,” he agrees. 

The two of you linger for a moment before parting, and you have never been more excited to say goodbye to someone in your entire fucking life. 

When you get home, you have a text message. ‘I’ll pick you up. Does 7 work for you?’

You have to take a moment to squeal into your pillow before answering that yes, 7 does work for you, and you’re excited to see him then. And then, as an afterthought, your address.

God, you need to find something to wear.

Saturday comes around, and you’re fully ready by 6. Sam’s almost always shown up early, after all. Your TV plays news footage, stating that the clinics have taken to putting up extra security around their blood banks to no avail. You couldn’t care less, too giddy and girlishly excited to even think about the stolen blood bags. 

6:45 rolls around. Sam isn’t there. That’s…fine. He’s not obligated to show up early. You set up a time to pick you up for a reason, right? There’s no reason for the sinking feeling in your gut. 

7:00. No sign of Sam. But that’s no reason to worry. Maybe he got stuck in traffic. People are late sometimes, and you don’t need to panic just because Sam’s never been late before. 

At 7:30, you shoot Sam a text. ‘are you okay? don’t tell me you forgot about me :( lol’ You don’t get a response. 

You don’t change back into lounge clothes until 8, and you don’t take off your makeup until 8:30, and that’s only because you’re pretty sure you’re about to start crying and ruin it anyway. 

The real kicker is that you thought Sam, at the very least, considered you a friend. Or at least friendly enough to let you down easy rather than agree to a date and then stand you up. Clearly, you severely misread the entire situation. You entirely misunderstood Sam in general, if he’s really the type of person to do this sort of thing. 

Wiping hot tears off your face, you cork open your expensive bottle of wine. Desperate times, right?

Two hours and half a wine bottle later, you’ve swung from devastated to angry. How dare he stand you up? You’re a catch! You’re gorgeous, you’re funny, you’ve ignored all of his weird quirks and red flags, and for what? To cry into a glass or five of overpriced wine on a Saturday night? Screw that. You should call him and give him a piece of your mind.

Or…no, you’re pretty drunk, actually, so you probably shouldn’t call him. But you could text him. Yeah. You fumble for your phone, furiously typing out a text and hitting send without a second thought. ‘if u werent interested in me u cldve just said so. didnt have 2 ghost me’ 

Next thing you know, you’re opening your eyes the next morning with a killer headache, a damn near empty bottle of wine, and no response from Sam. While you’re curled over the toilet, the alcohol isn’t the only thing turning your stomach. There’s a worry brewing there too. 

Because the more you think about it, the more that this really just doesn’t feel like Sam. Now that you’re further out from it, you can acknowledge that much. When you ask yourself if you truly believe that the guy who bought you your favorite drink every time you met up, the guy who remembered every single thing you ever told him, the guy whose face totally lit up when you asked him to dinner—when you ask yourself if that guy would stand you up, you truly, honestly don’t believe he would. So the real question is: why did he?

You fight through the worry until about halfway through your shift on Monday when you realize that with finals over, you have absolutely no idea when, or even if you’ll see Sam again. You call him. It rings all the way through until you get his voicemail, and you wish the sound of his voice could calm you, but it only reminds you that he’s not answering. You don’t leave a message, sending him a text instead. ‘seriously, are you okay? please at least let me know you’re not dead.’ You’re not surprised to find you haven’t gotten a response the next time you check your phone, walking to your car at the end of the day. Desperately, heart-clenchingly worried, but not surprised. 

You open your laptop the second you get home, furiously searching anything you can think of. You search for his name again, hoping to find anything that could point you towards family or friends, to the brother he mentioned. You search local obituaries, John Does, anyone who might even bear the slightest resemblance to Sam, but there’s nothing. Nothing, until you accidentally click on one of the articles about the blood theft. There, in a blurry screenshot of footage from the new security cameras one of the blood banks had installed, you see it. You recognize his brother’s gorgeous fucking car. 

Your eyes go wide. Holy shit, you’ve been flirting with a criminal. You scroll up through the article, reading furiously, but it doesn’t even mention the car, focusing instead on the blurry, shrouded figure entering the doors. Is this why Sam went missing? Laying low until he can be sure no one will connect the footage of the car to him or his brother? Why the fuck is he stealing blood bags in the first place? Needless to say, the discovery leaves you with more questions than it does answers. 

The world, unfortunately, does not stop with this revelation. You go to bed. You get up, you go to work, you come home. You think about Sam. You have no idea what you’re supposed to do in this situation. Should you go to the police? It’s not like he’s killing people but…it’s still illegal to steal blood bags. Also morally wrong, probably. Plus, you now have information that could help forward an ongoing police investigation. You’re not entirely sure what counts as aiding and abetting, but you’re not exactly itching to find out where the line is. 

On the other hand, Sam never seemed particularly…criminal-like to you. Strange, sure, but he was nice. Kind, even. You never in a million years would’ve pegged him as some sort of criminal mastermind. That’s got to count for something. Right? At the very least, you think it allows him the benefit of the doubt. So…late Tuesday night, you send him another text, the last one you’ll ever send him. Probably. ‘hey so keep ignoring me if im wrong but are you the one stealing blood from the clinics?’ 

He doesn’t text you back, and you pretend that means you’re wrong. That you can clear your conscience and go to sleep. That you can go to work and stop worrying about vintage cars in blurry security footage. 

Then the sun goes down on Wednesday, and someone knocks on your door. 

The man on the other side of it is unfamiliar to you. He’s wearing a leather jacket, an amulet hanging off his neck. There’s absolutely no reason you should recognize him as quickly as you do. Except that he has this quality about him, something unreal or maybe inhuman, and you’ve seen it before. You can’t quite tell what color his eyes are.

He smiles at you, and confirms it. “You’re ____, right? Sam’s told me all about you.” This is Sam’s brother, the one with the car. The car that you recognized in the blood bank footage. “I’m Dean. Can I come in?” 

You keep your hand on the edge of the door, ready to slam it in his face if need be. “How’d you get my address?” you ask, instead of answering the question. This man could be dangerous. You trust Sam, mostly, but his brother…that’s a different story.

“Sammy had it. Remember? For your little date.” Dean says, taking a step towards the threshold. You take a step back. “Can I come in now?” 

You ignore the fear raging down your spine, the urge to turn tail and run away. Sam carries himself differently than Dean, presents himself in such a way that instead of cowering away from him, you want to keep looking. His strangeness is intriguing, not off-putting. Dean, though, he takes those same qualities and twists them on their head. Dean looks at you, and your entire body screams Danger! Like he’s some sort of predator. “Why are you here?” 

“Look, I don’t have time for this,” he snaps. He takes another step forward, but stays notably on the other side of the door. Just barely. “Sam needs help. Are you gonna invite me in, or not?” 

He could be lying. He could be manipulating the affection you already have for his brother to get you to let him in so he can off you, maybe the only person who’s connected him to his crimes. But, if that was the case, why wouldn’t he have just forced his way in? And also, why the fuck would he go that far just to cover up some stolen blood bags? “What’s wrong with Sam?” you ask, stepping back from the door to allow him inside. When in Rome, right?

His lips press together, like he’s irritated, though you can’t imagine why. You’re letting him in, which is what he wanted. He stares at you for a moment before sighing, world weary, like he’s holding the weight of a hundred lifetimes of idiocy on his shoulders. Jesus, this guy’s dramatic. “You have to invite me,” he grits out. 

Your confusion only grows, but you oblige anyway. “Okay…come in, then.” 

Dean steps into the apartment almost as soon as you’ve said it, like you’ve only just now opened the door. You back up a few steps further. 

“Just so you know,” you say, standing up taller and trying to act less terrified than you feel, “I have a gun. So don’t- don’t try anything ‘cause I’ll shoot you.” You’re completely bluffing, of course, but there’s no way Dean could know that. 

“No, you don’t,” Dean says, like he definitely knows you were bluffing. Well, great. “Besides, I’m not here to hurt you. My brother needs help, you think I’m gonna kill the only person who can help him?” 

He doesn’t look like he’s lying. Then again, you’re pretty sure this man is a criminal, so maybe he’s just a really good liar. “Yeah, you said that before. If he needs my help so bad, why didn’t he just tell me himself?” It’s not like you slammed the door in Sam’s face and told him to leave you alone. You’ve sent him four texts and a phone call since he dropped off the face of the earth last week. He’s had every opportunity to ask for your help. 

“Cause he’s sick,” Dean tells you. He lifts his hands before he approaches you, like you’re some sort of wild animal that he doesn’t want to spook. Embarrassingly, it works. “Really sick.” 

You shake your head, bemused. “I don’t understand—what does that have to do with me? If he’s sick, he needs a doctor. Not…a random college student.” 

Dean nods. “Yeah, he would. But he’s got…it’s complicated.” He pauses in his approach and nods his head toward you. “Can I come closer, or are you gonna shoot me, tough girl?” 

You roll your eyes, but gesture him closer. “Be my guest, so long as it means you’re gonna tell me something that actually makes sense.” You’re tired of the riddles, frankly. If he doesn’t give you real answers soon, you don’t care how terrifying he is, you’re gonna have to do something drastic.

Dean scoffs. “Yeah, I can see why Sam likes you,” he mutters, shaking his head. “See, me and Sam…we’re not exactly normal. If I took him to a doctor, not only would they not be able to fix him, they’d probably kill him.” He stops beside you, forcing you to look up at him as he speaks. He cuts an intimidating figure, even without the air of a predator about him. You really, really wish you actually owned a gun.

“What do you mean by that?” you ask, voice quiet in the face of this hunter. “That you’re not normal?” 

He grins, big and sharp and toothy. And then his illusion drops. Your eyes seem to fail you, like someone’s dropped the floor out from under you and then told you the floor was never real in the first place. His eyes catch your attention first, blood red and striking. And then, of course, you see his teeth—no, his fangs. Two long, sharp, killer fangs where his canines used to be. “Welcome to the night of the living dead, sweetheart.”

Vampires are real. There’s a monster in your fucking living room. This is crazy. You should be screaming. You should shove this man out the door and lock it behind him and maybe never leave your apartment again. Instead, you blurt out, “So that’s why you were stealing blood bags.” Honestly, a lot of things are starting to make way more sense now. You’re almost embarrassed you didn’t think of it before. 

Dean laughs. “Right on the money.” You flinch as he claps you on the shoulder, and he laughs at you again. 

“So…I’m guessing Sam doesn’t just have a regular old stomach bug, then?” You really feel like you should be having a more extreme reaction to this situation. You just found out that not only are vampires real, but you’ve been actively flirting with one. You think maybe you’re in shock. “This is some sort of weird…vampire virus, or something?” 

“Smart girl,” he says, pointing at you approvingly. “Though it’s not exactly a virus, more like…food poisoning. Actually, we call it blood poisoning. Comes from drinking stale blood—bagged blood, for example—rather than fresh from the source.” 

You frown. “Why drink bagged blood, then, if it makes you sick?” 

“Why do people go vegan even though they need protein?” Dean counters. “Harm reduction. Plus, it doesn’t always make us sick. It’s pretty rare, actually. More common now than, you know, the olden times, but it happened back then too. Storing blood in vials, bottles, anything can make blood go stale, but it means you don’t have to hurt as many people getting it. Some things are worth the risk.” 

That much, at least, you can understand. “So this…this stale blood, whatever—it makes you sick,” you repeat, that same worry for Sam from before roiling in your stomach again. “How sick?” 

Dean grimaces, so whatever it is is clearly not good news. “It can kill us. Pretty easily, too. I have to tell you, I don’t know exactly how it works. Sam’s way better at this sort of thing.” He taps his fingers against your coffee table. “But I do know how to fix it.” 

It’s pretty easy to guess. Dean’s here, despite the fact his brother is apparently dying, and there’s really only one thing you have that they don’t. “He needs blood,” you say quietly, beating Dean to the punch. “Fresh blood.” 

He nods and shoots you a stilted smile. “Quick on the draw, huh?” The two of you stare at each other for a moment before he sighs, shaking his head. “Sam hates what he is. Doesn’t matter that he’ll die without it, he won’t hurt anyone. He just won’t.”

You cross your arms over your chest, suddenly uncomfortable with Dean’s intense stare, like he can see straight into your soul. “So- so, what am I supposed to do about it?” you ask, your shoulders shrugging helplessly. “I’m still a person. I can’t force him to do something he doesn’t want to do.” 

Dean takes a step toward you, and this time you don’t step back or shrink away. He’s dangerous, sure, but not to you. Not as long as you’re the only thing standing between his brother and certain death. “Look, Sam really likes you. If he knew I was here right now, and he wasn’t on his deathbed, he’d kill me. But I just—I’ve tried. It’s been a week, and I’ve tried so hard—” He ducks his head as he cuts off, his jaw working over clenched teeth. “I know that you care about him, right? I mean, I saw the texts; I know—I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t desperate. I can’t just sit around and watch my little brother die. I had to try. I have to try.” 

Seeing him now, you almost can’t believe you were afraid of him. He looks almost terrified himself. And despite the uncertainty you feel, the fear, well…there’s a clear answer here. Yes, there’s a chance Sam refuses to feed from you, but there’s also a chance to save him. You can’t just stand back and let him die because you’re scared. “Okay.”

Dean’s eyes snap to yours again. They sparkle with hope, and even though the illusion is dropped, even though his eyes are red and his teeth are viciously sharp, for the first time since you first saw him, he looks human. “Okay?” 

“Take me to him,” you tell him, moving past him to grab your coat off the hanger by your door. “Let me try to save him.” 

Dean gives you the key to the apartment and a wish good luck, but stays in the car (which, yes, is just as nice as you imagined, though you wish you’d gotten to experience it under different circumstances). He tells you as you climb out the passenger door, “If this goes the way I hope it does, you two aren’t gonna want me there. Trust me.” 

Apprehension keeps you rooted outside the locked door, biting a hole through your bottom lip. There’s a lot of ways this could go. Quite a few of them could end up with you dead, and you’d be a fool not to acknowledge that. Then again, you’d also be a fool not to acknowledge what you know about Sam, what Dean’s told you about him today. Kind, gentle Sam, who is sick and dying, but apparently still refuses to hurt anyone. Who drinks from blood bags, despite the risk, simply because it means he can live without harming others. He doesn’t deserve to die.

You take a deep breath, and unlock the door. 

The apartment is…Well, it’s a little dingy, but it’s cozy. Homey. There’s clutter and trinkets on every shelf, books that look so old that you fear they’d disintegrate if you touched them. It occurs to you, then, that you don’t know how old Sam actually is. A memory flashes in your mind of his name mentioned in records from the 1800s. Holy shit. 

“Dean?” You recognize Sam’s voice, but it’s thin and croaky. Weak. Really sick, Dean had said. “Are you home?” 

  You follow the sound of his voice into a bedroom, and the stale smell of illness almost makes you stumble back from the doorway. It doesn’t smell bad, necessarily, so much as still and wrong. Sam’s been in this room, wallowing in sickness, for a week. Your heart aches for him. “Not Dean,” you say quietly, hoping not to spook him. You approach the bed, and only just keep from gasping at the state of the man curled up in it. Sam is pale and sunken, visibly weak and malnourished. He’s trembling, shaking all over with chills, maybe, or just tremors in general. 

His face changes when he hears your voice, his brows furrowed in confusion. He opens his eyes and peers up at you over his cocoon of blankets. His eyes, like Dean’s, are red, but unlike Dean’s, they’re glassy and tired, his eyelids fluttering like he’s struggling to keep them open. “____? What…what’re you doing here?” He pushes himself up to sit, and you can see the effort it takes him to do even that, his arms shaking under his own weight. 

You sit gingerly on the edge of the bed beside him. “Dean sent me,” you tell him, ratting Dean out immediately. 

Sam groans, rubbing his hands over his eyes. The veins in his hands are standing out, ugly, mottled red under pale skin. As if the blood really had poisoned him. “I’m gonna kill him.” Wow, Dean hadn’t even exaggerated, huh?

“Not like this, you’re not,” you mutter, reaching out to take his hand in yours. “Jesus, Sam…” He’s ice cold to the touch like he’s been out in the snow for hours. You curl your hands around his, trying to warm him. 

His gaze flicks to them, your hands barely covering his. “Sorry I missed our date,” he says, mournful like he really is repentant, like standing you up is the worst sin he could’ve possibly committed. “It…was a date, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it—I meant for it to be.” You huff out a laugh, sympathetic as you smile at him. “And, you know, somehow I can’t find it in myself to hold it against you.” 

Sam laughs, and for the first time, you catch a glimpse of his fangs. They’re just as viciously sharp as Dean’s, but they somehow look less dangerous on Sam. You’d worry you’d been charmed or something (isn’t that supposed to be something vampires can do? You have to admit, you’re a little out of the loop of vampire lore), if you weren’t certain that Sam would never do something like that. No, not charmed, not in any sort of magical sense. “I’ll die happy then.” 

Wow, you see the dramatics run in the family. “You’re not going to die,” you say firmly, releasing Sam’s hand to brush his bangs out of his face. He’s freezing all over. It makes you want to wrap him up in your arms, make sure he never goes cold again. You settle for pressing your palm against his cheek, your fingers cupping around his jaw. 

“I am, though,” he shoots back, like he’s arguing about who’s answer on the homework is right, not about his actual, literal life. “I’m going to die. But that’s—it’s okay. It’s been a week, so I’ve sort of come to terms with it.” 

“Screw that.” You turn more firmly towards him, pulling your legs under you to kneel on the bed. “Seriously, screw that. I can help you. If you think I’m just gonna- what, stand aside and let you die, then you really don’t know me at all.” 

“Sure. And you’re just gonna fix me, huh?” He shakes his head, turning it away from you with a huff. “All sunshine and rainbows after that. Not like I’ll have to bleed you to get better, right? Oh, wait.” Oh, he’s such a fucking diva, even on his deathbed, apparently.

“Oh, my God—yeah! I sort of figured it wouldn’t exactly be pleasant.” You didn’t spend all that time hesitating at the door because you thought it would be a walk in the park. “But if the choice is between that and letting you die, there’s no contest. I don’t understand why you’re so set on it when I’m sitting here offering you a solution!” 

“Maybe I don’t want to be saved!” His outburst silences you, especially because it seems to take a lot of energy from him to snap at you like that. He stares you down, red eyes meeting yours, and you…you don’t know what to say to that. 

You can lead a horse to water, but… “Sam—”

He cuts you off with another shake of his head. “Dean…he used to tell me that what we are doesn't make us monsters, it’s what we do. And I really wish I believed that, but the thing is, I…am going to die if I don’t feed from someone, like- like a fucking parasite. What is that if not monstrous?” 

“I don’t think you’re a monster,” you tell him. Slowly, cautiously, you reach for his face and replace your hand on his cheek, turning his gaze to meet yours. “I actually happen to think you’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. I don’t know what kind of monster would’ve apologized for getting deathly ill and accidentally standing me up.” 

His eyes flick over your face, like he’s searching for something. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.” His voice, thin and mournful, is heartbreaking. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t know—I’ve never been sick like this before. It’s possible I won’t have a lot of control if I feed on you like this.” 

That’s sort of what you were afraid of. But that’s the benefit of him feeding from you, rather than some random person off the street, right? You know what’s going on. “I won’t let you go too far,” you assure him. “Sam, please. I want to do this for you. Let me…let me help you.” 

His eyes meet yours, and he seems to find what he’s looking for. He lifts his hand and brushes your hair back off your neck. “If I do this—if—it’ll hurt, at first,” he tells you, placing his hand on your shoulder. Just resting there. It sends sparks down your spine all the same. “But not for long. It’ll start to feel good, kind of like getting high. But if I—I’m not going to bite you if I’m not sure you’ll be able to stop me if I take too much.” 

“I’ll stop you. If I have to.” You trust him, mostly. But you’re also aware that he hasn’t fed in a week, so you’re prepared to have to at least alert him to your blood loss. 

His fingers trail along your neck, goosebumps following in his wake. His eyes follow the path of his touch, and his hands may be hesitant, but you can see the hunger in his eyes. Maybe you can make the horse drink, after all. “Are you sure?” he asks, and his hand moves to the back of your head. Bracing. 

“I told you—” you say, your voice coming out almost as quiet as a breath— “I want to do this for you.” 

“Okay.” He leans forward until you can feel his breath on your neck. It’s almost cold, unnaturally so. “Tilt your head a little more, that way—there you go,” he instructs, and that tone in his voice is…yeah. You are definitely glad Dean didn’t come in with you. His lips brush your skin when he speaks next, “Ready?” 

“Yes.” You’re not sure how you manage to get your voice to come out as stable as it does. You bring your hands up to brace on his shoulders, and your grip goes a bit tighter when you feel his fangs press, just barely, against your skin. “Yeah, I’m—go ahead.” 

You’ve never been bitten by a vampire before. You have no frame of reference of whether this is what it’s like every time, or if it’s just a Sam thing. Or if it’s just a you and Sam thing. But the whole process is intensely intimate in a way you weren’t expecting. Even when he first sinks his fangs in and it stings, makes you draw in a sharp breath. He’s a little uncoordinated, you think, and maybe goes in at a weird angle, because he draws his teeth out to sink them in again, but not before his tongue flicks out to catch the blood that drips down the side of your neck. The gasp that escapes you this time is not just from the pain.

He was right, of course. It does hurt at first. But the pain is offset by his hand on your head, his fingers curling just so to grip your hair. You swear you can feel in real time as he gets his strength back. As your blood flushes the sickness out of him. You’re not sure there is anything more intimate than that. 

You think maybe you expected a transition between pain and euphoria, but there is no slow fade. In between one blink and the next, the pain disappears, replaced with a floaty, echoing pleasure that has your fingers clutching at Sam’s shirt. Everything around you goes a little unfocused, fuzzy, except for everywhere Sam touches, where you swear your nerves are lighting up with sparks and ecstasy. You might be making noises. It’s a little hard to tell, your senses dampened as they are. 

“Sam…” You shove a little at his shoulders when you notice your hands start to shake. He hums, and you feel it on your skin. You can see, now, why he likened this feeling to getting high, although you’re not sure it’s the feeding that you can see yourself getting addicted to. You shove him a little harder. “Gettin’ dizzy here.” 

He pulls back from your neck, and your senses return to you in a rush of sound and a pinprick sort of ache where his teeth had sunk into your skin. You watch, full focused vision returned, as Sam wipes at his mouth and then drags his tongue over his hand, now free of mottled veins, to catch the blood that had, you assumed, spilled as he drank from you. Like he can’t bear to waste a single drop. You swallow thickly, your mouth suddenly very dry. 

“You taste like…” He trails off, and then his mouth is on you again, but not biting. No, his tongue drags up your throat, and it occurs to you—vaguely, through the fog of earth-shattering, soul-bending lust that settles over you—that if blood had spilled down his mouth, then it stands to reason that it had made a mess of your neck as well. Not that you’re complaining, if this is the result of a little mess. He makes a soft noise against your skin, his breath hot now in a way it hadn’t been before. “Taste like…” His voice peters off again, distracted or just unable to find the words to describe it.

Yeah, screw this. “Let me find out for myself,” you murmur, your hands moving from his shoulders to his face—and his skin, too, is warmer now, almost the temperature you would generally expect it would be—until you can drag him into a kiss. The answer, as it turns out, is blood. You taste like blood, although you sort of assume it tastes different to him. Strangely, the flavor isn’t as off-putting as you would assume, especially not when he groans and uses his grip on your hair to tilt your head, kiss you deeper. You lick into his mouth, tasting your actual, literal blood on his tongue, and you…don’t have the words to describe how absurdly hot it is.  

He’s not careful with his fangs, not really, lets them catch on your bottom lip and draw out pinpricks of blood that he soothes with his tongue. It makes the whole thing a little messy; he’s got blood smeared over his lips when you pull back to breathe. Your eyes track his tongue as he licks it up. 

His hand, the one that’s not braced on the back of your head, brushes against the skin of your waist under the hem of your shirt. “Is this okay?” he asks quietly, still so close that you can feel the words on your lips. 

Is this okay? You almost have to laugh at the question. As if you hadn’t wanted him since the first moment you saw him. “Yeah,” you tell him, a little smile tugging at your lips. “It is so absolutely more than okay.” 

At your confirmation, he smiles too, and his hand rests more firmly on your waist, almost grounding. “Well, I didn’t buy you dinner first. Wouldn’t want you to think I was ungentlemanly,” he says, drawing a soft laugh from you. 

“Aw, well. You did try.” You press forward, leaving a short kiss on his lips as your hand shifts from his face to tangle your fingers through his hair. “Plus, I mean…technically, I—”

Sam cuts you off with a kiss, but you can feel his grin against your mouth. “That does not count,” he protests.

“I dunno,” you say, a little sing-song in your voice as you grin at him. “I did quite literally just save your life. I think we might be a little past dinner.” 

He scoffs, shaking his head at you. He’s not annoyed though. You can tell, because his fingers flex on your waist and then move, brushing up your side. “Uh-huh. Sounds to me like I��m slacking.” He ducks his head and presses two short, soft kisses to your neck, right on top of the pinprick aches. “I’ll have to repay you. You did just save my life, after all.” 

Almost subconsciously, your fingers tighten in his hair. Anticipation settles in the small space between you, a space that grows even smaller when his hand presses against the small of your back and tugs your closer. “I did just save your life,” you repeat, your voice significantly breathier than it was before.

He laughs, a little puff of breath against your skin, and his lips drag down your throat in a line of open mouthed kisses until it lands at your pulse point. You swear to God, time slows down as he breathes in, slow and deep like he’s smelling your blood beneath your skin, and then presses his teeth to it until you can feel the points of them, precarious like water pooled on top of a penny. He doesn’t bite down, doesn’t break the skin, but fuck, you almost want him to. It seems like he wants to, too, as he closes his mouth with a snap. “Fuck…” He pulls back and lifts his eyes to yours. “Can I taste you? Please?” 

It takes you a second to understand what, exactly, he means. He’d already tasted you; if he wanted more blood, he could’ve just bitten you again. Then, it clicks, and you…well, what are you supposed to say to that? Sam Winchester, all big, cow eyes and mouth smeared with your blood, so politely asking to eat you out, like you’d be giving him a gift. How could you possibly turn that down? “Yeah. Yeah, fuck, that’s—yeah.” 

You only see his answering smile for half a second before his lips are on yours again, kissing, biting, while his hand caresses over the bare skin of your stomach. His kiss, his touch, is almost overwhelming, doesn’t leave you much room to think about anything else but him. Not that you really want to. He tugs at the hem of your shirt, pulls back just far enough from you to speak, and even then you can feel his lips move against yours as he asks, “Can I take this off?” 

You really do laugh this time, drawing your hands down his neck and over his shoulders. “I appreciate the whole gentleman thing, I really do, but Sam, baby, I’ve wanted you since before I even knew your name. So let’s just assume that whatever you wanna do, I really fuckin’ want it, too.” 

His eyes flick over your face, and you can literally feel the cocky ass grin he gets at that. It is, unfortunately, like everything else he does, ridiculously sexy. “That long, huh?” He’s such a dick. You want him more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your entire life. He tugs back and drags his gaze down your torso, his hand leaving your hair to join the other in toying with the hem of your shirt. “Guess I shouldn’t keep you waiting any longer, then.” His hands brush against the skin of your stomach as he pulls your shirt up and over your head before tossing it aside, not caring where it lands. You’ll find it later. Or you won’t. 

His eyes lave over your newly bare skin, his hands following shortly behind. “You are so beautiful,” he murmurs, pressing his palms flat against your stomach and dragging them up your ribs. “Can you lay back for me, darling?” he asks, even as his hands press you back against the mattress before you can respond. 

You go easily, not in the least because the name knocks the breath out of you. “Darling?” you echo, shifting until you’re resting comfortably against the nest of pillows at the head of the bed. 

Sam climbs over you, his knee nudging yours until you spread your legs to make room for his hips to settle between your thighs. “Is that alright?” he asks, ducking his head to press his lips to the hinge of your jaw. 

More than alright, if the fluttering in your stomach is anything to go by. “It’s fine,” you say, playing it cool. Then, because his hands are rubbing up and down the bare skin of your sides and his teeth (the blunt ones, not the fangs, because he has much more self control than you do) are nipping at the skin of your neck, you play it decidedly uncool and continue, “Darling.” 

You feel his answering smile against the skin of your collarbone as he and his kisses and his teeth travel down the line of your neck and chest, pausing at the edge of your bra. He lifts his eyes to meet yours through his lashes as his lips press the softest of kisses there. “‘M gonna take this off, now,” he tells you, his voice deep and rumbling. His hands move up your back, and you arch your spine to allow him room to do so. He undoes your bra clasp without removing his lips from your chest, tugs the garment down your arms and tosses it vaguely in the same direction as your shirt without a second thought. 

“I thought about this, you know,” he says, softly, against the skin in the valley of your breasts. “Getting my mouth on you. How it would feel.” He shifts his attention, his lips closing over your nipple while his hand palms your other breast. It draws a soft gasp from your lips, your fingers twisting in his hair. “How you’d sound,” he continues, his voice a little cocky now. 

“Sam…” His name falls from your lips on an exhale, like you’re breathing him in, like he’s pumping through your veins the same way you’re now pumping through his. 

He smirks. If you thought he was cocky before… “Yeah, pretty much—” He presses that smirk against one nipple and brushes his thumb over the other, and while your head is dropping back onto the pillows with a moan, he laves his tongue over it to make you moan even louder— “just like that.” He's got you so distracted, you almost don't notice his free hand trailing down your stomach, brushing along the waistband of your jeans, not until his fingers undo the button with practiced ease. 

“Oh, God, you are so unfairly hot.” You lift your head to watch as he kisses his way down your stomach until he finally reaches your waistband with his mouth, too, and leaves a nippy little bite there. 

He laughs, glances up at you with that fucking smirk as he drags your jeans down your hips. “Unfair to who? You?” The two of you maneuver a bit until he can tug your pants off your ankles and toss them aside, another clothing casualty lost to the war on your sanity led by the swooping in your gut whenever Sam looks at you like that. 

“Not me,” you elaborate, although it’s hard to do so when Sam’s hands are settling on your hips and his thumbs are rubbing slow circles on your skin and dipping just so under the elastic of your panties on every other pass. “But, like, every other guy. How is anyone supposed to compete with…this?” 

This being Sam motherfucking Winchester, who had spent months shyly testing the waters and cautiously flirting so subtly that you were terrified you’d read him wrong, suddenly suave and confident and practically begging to eat you out. Oh, and also being, objectively, the hottest monster. This man has been terrorizing the dating pool for maybe centuries. You shudder to think how many women’s standards he has completely obliterated. 

Continuing the streak of obliterating your standards, he ducks his head, that shy smile on his lips again. “I mean, I should hope no one is competing with me in this particular instance,” he says, voice hesitant as if there’s a chance on Earth you’d ever turn him down. 

You shake your head, and honestly, you can’t help but laugh because a literal vampire is about to go down on you, and somehow the most unbelievable part of this situation is that he thinks he has an ounce of competition. “Are you actually asking me if I want to be exclusive right now?” you ask, drawing a hand up and through his hair, brushing his fringe off his forehead. “Because I feel like I made it so obvious how much I like you. Obviously, there is no competition.” 

You have the honor of watching Sam blush for the first time, and knowing that you made it possible. Your blood flushes his cheeks, makes his face go the prettiest shade of pink you’ve ever seen. 

 “Obviously,” he echoes, his words brushing against the skin just above your panties. His hands brush down your thighs, and he pulls one of your legs up and over his shoulder so your heel rests against his back. He turns his head, and with your thigh now bracketing his head, it’s easy for him to press an open-mouthed kiss there, and then another, and then another until he’s brought you back practically to panting again. 

“‘M gonna make you see stars,” he tells you, his lips pressed against the crease where your thigh meets your hip. “And then, because I am a gentleman, I’m going to buy you dinner. And I’m gonna be thinking about this—” He nips at your skin, bares his fangs this time and draws a well of blood and a gasp from you simultaneously— “The way you taste; the way you feel—I’m gonna be thinking about it the whole time.” He draws his hands back up to your hips just to tuck his fingers under the elastic of your panties, lifting his eyes to yours as he tugs on it. “Can I take these off?” 

You think you might die if he doesn’t. “Please.” 

His fangs seem to glint in the light when he grins, but he ducks his head before you can look again, a sort of hyperfocus to his posture as he shifts your hips and legs until he can pull your underwear off your ankles, and finally, finally, leaves you bare to him. He doesn’t waste a second, his hands dragging up your thighs and then spreading them further, his eyes roving over you like you’re the most beautiful work of art he’s ever seen. “Gorgeous.” His voice, breathy and sweet, washing over you is the only warning you get before his lips press against you in a surprisingly gentle kiss. 

Your lungs expand on a gasp, and then deflate on a moan as he laves his tongue between your folds, the muscle pressed flat and soft like a tease. Or a preview. You’re not totally sure you’re going to survive this actually. You might die with Sam’s tongue licking over your pussy, and honestly, what a fucking way to go. 

“Taste so good all over, huh?” Oh, holy fuck, he’s still talking. His lips brush over your skin and make you whine, and you’re pretty sure you can feel the vibrations of his voice better than you can hear him. “Feel like I should thank you. Letting me feed from you, and now this?” He makes it sound like it’s some sacrifice to let him go down on you, like you’re not gripping his hair so tight you’re surprised you’re not pulling it out. “You’re perfect.” 

“Oh, my God,” your voice comes out high and tight as he closes his lips over your clit and sucks. Your back arches off the bed, but as your hips shift to press up against his mouth, you find his hand pressed low on your stomach, pinning you down. “Sam—oh, my God.” 

You can feel as much as hear the soft, contented hums he’s making, like he’s never wanted to be anywhere more than with his head between your legs and his tongue drawing circles over your clit. His fangs, sharp and dangerous, are almost artfully pressed against your skin, just barely enough to feel the points of them. His free hand, the one not pressing you down against the mattress, keeps trailing up and down the outside of your thigh, making you shiver and press your heel into his back. And it’s so obvious he’s loving this maybe even as much as you are, his whole body shifting as he grinds down against the mattress, and God, that feels almost as good as his mouth on your cunt does. He’s getting off on the taste of you, on making you squirm and whine and moan.

It’s over the second he presses his tongue against your entrance and his nose smushes against your clit—everything after that is a jumble of sensation. The feeling of his tongue fucking in and out, his nose rubbing against you with every movement of his mouth, his hand grabbing at your thigh and holding your legs open when your muscles go tense and tight and anticipatory. 

He draws his tongue out of you with an obscene slurping sound that just has you hurtling even faster towards the edge, your hands grabbing at his hair for dear fucking life, white knuckled. “Are you gonna come?” he asks, his voice low and gruff and almost fucked out. You squeeze your eyes shut, nodding as if it wasn’t obvious from the constant stream of noises spilling from your lips. “Yeah? Go on, come on my tongue. Give it to me, darling, let me taste it.” 

How could you resist that? His words and his stupidly talented mouth draw you over the edge, your pussy spasming as you do exactly as he asked and come on his tongue. True to his word, he does, in fact, make you see stars, lights sparking behind your eyelids. His mouth works you through it until you’re whining and using your grip on his hair to tug him away, oversensitive as you come down from an explosive fucking orgasm. 

He presses kisses on your inner thigh as he shifts it off his shoulder, your body loose and pliant now. “There you go, good girl.” The words make your cunt give a valiant twitch, even as he draws himself up your body until he’s laying beside you and pressing kisses over your face. “Was that good?” 

You peek one eye open to look at him, incredulous. “Was that good—you’re so ridiculous, c’mere.” You turn your head to draw him into a slow, lingering kiss. Much like the taste of your blood in his mouth, the taste of your pussy on his tongue is, frankly, life-changing. You’re addicted already. 

He draws back with a soft laugh, his eyes traveling over your face with such obvious fondness that you have to press another quick kiss against his lips. “Okay, understood.” He brings his hand up to brush over your face, soft and gentle and such a contrast to the obscene pleasure he’d taken in going down on you that it makes your cheeks go warm. “So when can I buy you that dinner?” 

The question gives you pauses, and your eyes flick down his body, curious. “Did you not want me to…” 

You watch your blood, again, flood his cheeks as he laughs and rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “That’s not—I really like giving head,” he explains, as if that is not literally the hottest thing he could’ve possibly said. 

Fuck dinner, you wanna go five rounds with him back to back right now. “Okay,” you say, because he’s very sweet and he wants to be a gentleman and who are you to take that from him? “You can take me to dinner, if you swear you’ll let me suck you off when we get back. Deal?” 

The way his face lights up is worth having to wait. “Deal.”  

“And,��� you continue, your hand smoothing over his hair where your grip had mussed it up, “next time you need blood, let’s just skip the whole ‘I’m a monster’ thing. I am more than willing to supply you; I have a vested interest in keeping you around.” 

He rolls his eyes, but the way he kisses you, fangs and all, tells you he gets it.

[heavensentgojo]

OFFICE HOURS ONLY! K.NANAMI

synopsis in which y/n works alongside nanami in a huge project, only to find herself getting the stress fucked out of her

warnings female anatomy, she/her pronouns, stimulation/penetration, oral sex, pet name used is "sweetheart", unpotected sex, gojo mentioned as a fuck buddy,

author’s note this is my first collab with @leahrintarou! thank you for collaborating with me lele! <3 please be nice and no hate comments tolerated! enjoy reading <3

WORKING hours and hours at the most famous company really had you fucking drained to the fullest. Getting up at 6 am to be at work at 8 and then going home at 11 pm. Your schedule was mostly full of just work on work on work. But the pay was good at least. And it’s not like you totally hated your job, there was one thing you really looked forward to every morning.

Which was Nanami Kento. The man who would always greet you when you would walk in the office, his “good morning, miss” would always hit the spot, making you look forward to the day. The man who welcomed you on your first day and took you out to get a coffee, little did you know he remembered it, taking you your coffee everyday. The man who would always try to make small talk with you in the break room and ask you little questions.

You knew since the first day you had a huge crush on Nanami. After all he was handsome, well put together, and very well dressed. The suits he had on which made him look so sexy in, they were always top designer suits. Which was understandable since he’s been working longer in this company than you and making more. You wanted Nanami. But the more you thought about him, it just made you more curious about him. is he married? does he have kids? what are his hobbies? but you never made your move. You put the thought in your head that a man like him was most likely married and probably had kids, oh but how you were so wrong.

Nanami was single. A hard working single man who was always working 24/7 and practically had no life other than this job. He never really thought of love. He was always stressed and had no time for anything. He wished he could find someone to relate to his problems. Someone who can probably help him and relieve all this stress he has in him. And he will.

NOW it was 9:30 pm on a Friday, you were working on a big project your boss assigned you, it wasn’t too bad but the first section you were done with. It was just the second section you had a struggle with. You had been working on this project for days, you even had to stay overtime. You set your pencil down and sighed, leaning on your chair. Since you were going to be extending your stay at the office tonight, you thought you should get coffee, italian coffee of course. You grabbed your mug, making your way to the break room which was not too far from your office.

But of course Nanami was in there, He turned his head over to you and flashed a smile. “hello y/n”. you smiled back at him, “hi nanami” you said softly, your voice ringing in his ears. You walked in the room making your way to the coffee machine and pouring it in your mug, your back faced to Nanami. “How’s your project coming along? I see you’re staying overtime to finish it?” he leaned over the counter, taking a sip out of his mug.

you let out a chuckle, “yeah I am.. I got done with the first section of it.. it’s just the second part. i’m just so stressed” you sighed. “i’m sorry about that.. but you know I can always give you a helping hand” nanami offered to you. Maybe this could be your chance to get to know him better, but you knew how stressful it could be so you didn’t want him to help you. “uhm no nanami it’s okay really.. I really appreciate the offer though” you nodded. “I don’t take no for an answer, y/n” he said in a serious tone.

“are you really sure?” you looked at him sincere. “yes of course” he nodded, you sighed. “fine, uhm i’ll go over to your office once everyone starts heading out.” he put his coffee mug down to add more creamer, “sure thing”, you smiled and started walking out, “alright thanks nanami! i’ll see you later” you said before leaving the room.

You let out a breath you held in while talking to him, as you got to your office you squealed lowly to yourself in excitement. It was finally your time with Nanami alone. Just you two, no one else in the office.

AS the time passed you grew impatient, you wanted to be with Nanami, and finally the time came. You fixed up yourself in the bathroom mirror. Lifting up your skirt and fixing your blazer, along with your hair. You also fixed up your makeup since you had your bag with you, you added more of your lipstick and gloss on your lips. You got your perfume and sprayed all over your body.

Looking in the mirror you fixed up a little more. You left the bathroom and gathered your things, heading to Nanamis office. You took a deep breath and knocked on his door which you heard him say “Come in!” you slowly opened the door and slid in. “hi” you said with a small wave making Nanami smile. “here come take a seat” he patted the seat next to him by his desk. you took your seat, you opened up your computer and pulled out the section you had to work on for the project. Nanami pulled your chair closer to him making you widened your eyes.

“Sorry I couldn’t see your screen” he said. You nervously chuckled, “i’m sorry about that”. You turned your computer to him. “It’s fine, let’s get to work shall we?” you smiled and nodded. “yes, let’s do it..”

An hour had past by, you and nanami quickly opened up to each other. Just like how you hoped for. He was telling you everything you wanted to know, To his hobbies, to his favorite ice cream color. You were admired by him, the way he talked about his passions with you. It just made you fall for him even more.

Nanami wasn’t really the type to open up quickly or even talk, but with y/n it was different. She was different. She was a breath of fresh air and that’s something Nanami needed in his life. Y/n made him feel at ease. He felt like he could talk to her without being judge, vice versa with her as well. Not only that Nanami always noticed y/n. She was very hot. But he thought she had a boyfriend, a girl like her was probably in a relationship. he was wrong like how you were.

“Alright I think that’s the last of it” Nanami typed the final words in and sent in an email to the boss. “thank you nanami I really appre-” you got cut off by a notification on your phone, making you both look down as your phone was placed in between you both. Giving Nanami access to see your phone clearly and so did you.

GOJO: haven’t seen you in a while, angel. can I see you tonight?

“boyfriend?” Nanami looked away from the phone to you. You looked at him at the same time, “no he’s just a friend”. Nanami raised his brow at you, he wasn’t convinced. “friends send each other those kin-” once again your phone rang and it was gojo again…

GOJO: [attachment image] (dick pic)

“Friends send each other those type of messages and pictures?” Nanami teased. You turned off your phone, “it’s not like that..” you sighed. “you’re not going to reply?” you shakes your head no, of course not why would you reply when your with the man who you’ve been dying to spend time with.

“I'm just too stressed to be dealing with him right now” you closed your computer. “I could help with that.” Nanami smirked and put his hands on your thighs “h-huh?” you stuttered in disbelief but as you turned your head a bit, all that you saw was the genuine expression on his features.

Although you weren't too familiar with Nanami all that well, you couldn’t help but feel sure that he wasn’t the type to play games. His serious demeanor combined with that smirk hinted at a depth you found irresistible.

“Y-You could help?” you echoed, your heart racing as his hand lingered on your thigh. It was a bold move, and you were torn between excitement and nerves.

“Just a little stress relief,” he said, his voice low, leaning slightly closer. “Sometimes we need more than just coffee to unwind.”

You swallowed hard, searching his eyes for any hint of insincerity. But all you saw was a desire that mirrored your own. “What do you have in mind?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Nanami chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, we could start by talking about what you really want,” he replied, brushing his thumb gently against your skin.

The heat radiating from his touch sent shivers down your spine. “I... I want to know you better,” you admitted, your heart pounding. “But I don’t want to complicate things.”

He leaned back slightly, giving you a searching look. “Complication can lead to something beautiful,” he said, his tone earnest. “And right now, I think we both need a break from this endless cycle of work.”

"I guess you could say that."

Nanami hummed at your word, his hand sliding a bit more up your thigh. you heart thumped against your chest and you were sure that if you released your body from it's tense state, it would beat right through your chest. "now," he began, making you look up at him, your eyes locked on each others.

"tell me your answer to my previous question, y/n."

"what i want?" you question. it seemed like you were making sure that you understood what he meant, but in actuality, you already knew. you just needed some kind of excuse to give yourself time to think and answer the question properly without making a complete fool of yourself. he nodded, sitting up properly in his seat.

"i just need a break from this project. that's all." you finally confessed. although it was the truth, it wasn't the entirety of it. "then lets take one. I'm sure thirty minutes won't hurt."

"just thirty?" you questioned, eyes widening at his next word. "what? you think it'll take longer for me to get you to feel good?" his fingertips finally grazed your clothed sex with a careful motion. your body jolted just barely, but with the way Nanami's gaze was on you, he of course noticed it.

"relax for me, sweetheart. this is supposed to help you feel better." he twisted his wrist slightly, allowing the pads of his middle and ring finger to press against your clothed bud. you let out a shaky breath and as he applied more pressure, the feeling only increased. "you know, there's a few people down the hall." he muttered, using his freehand to turn your chair so that you'd face him. "all had the same idea as us to stay after hours and finish up some work."

Nanami mentioned this on purpose. he knew where he wanted to get with this and you began to pick up on it too when he began massaging circular motions against your sensitive bud. "as much as i want to hear the beautiful sounds you make, you have to be quiet, okay?" he features softened and you so badly wanted to feel relaxed by it, but the more he continued, the harder you'd bite down on your bottom lip to suppress the slipping whimper.

you shook your head, holding his gaze and moving your hand to grip his wrist. "Nanami-" he only sped up his movements, and this time you couldn't help but let out an audible moan. the fabric of your panties only gave you more friction. his hands were skillful and heavy in a way that you couldn't even begin to explain. "that's going to be a problem, y/n." he spoke, his voice snapping you out of your small daze along with the fact that he stopped his movements.

"what is?" you asked, uneasy not just by his words, but his tone as well. he couldn't have just played you and decided against you guys' dangerous idea, right? that wasn't like Nanami, but when you thought deeper, you realized that maybe it was. afterall, you didn't know him all that well. "oh, don't sound so heartbroken sweetheart." he said, a small frown on his lips at your despairing expression.

"i-i'm sorry." you quickly said, shifting a bit to get out of his grasp, but he stopped you with a hand against the arm of your chair. "that's not it. you've got the wrong idea, y/n. i meant that you can't make such sounds. so loudly, at that."

confusion struck you just as hard as the realization. you weren't thinking straight at all. call it the stress, fatigue, or lust, but it was all scrambling your train of thought and it was obvious since you hadn't even noticed the fact that Nanami was guiding you to stand as he still sat. he pulled you closer to him, one of his knees making its way between your parted legs. "take a seat, sweetheart. I've got a solution to that vocal mouth of yours."

you followed his words and took a seat right on his thigh, your legs straddling either side. Nanami admired you deeply and lustfully, yet he was able to keep his composure. you on the other hand, couldn't help but grind down just a bit at the lack of attention that you needed in certain areas. Nanami quirked an eyebrow at your actions, and while you wanted to feel regret for your impatience, you couldn't.

it simply felt too good.

"please touch me again, Nanami." you muttered, the feeling of yearn coming to you when you glanced at his hand that rested against your thigh. he only lifted your skirt, pushing the item further up to reveal your clothed sex. "let's keep you quiet for a bit, okay?" he muttered, his freehand meeting with your nape to pull your face down closer to his. your lips met after a small pause and Nanami pulled you in in mere seconds.

this new position allowed you to press your bud against his thigh and for Nanami to use his other hand to reach around you and pulling your panties to the side. the tips of his digits traced up and down your slit, making you moan into his mouth. he retreated his fingers just as swiftly and planted both of his hands on your waist, firmly gripping your flesh as a sigh fell onto your tongue.

you parted your lips as his tongue slid against your own. he griding your sex against his thigh, using your hips to control your body. a whimper escaped from you but he devoured it just in time for it to only be muffled. "I've needed you for so long, y/n."

this caught you off guard. you could've never imagined that Nanami would think such a thing and better yet say it to you. "everyday you show up to work, i can't help but drive myself insane just by thinking about you." he groaned, firmly holding your hips in place as he pulled back to look down at his slacks.

the dampened area just beneath your sex sent a wave of embarrassment over you and Nanami only let out a strained groan as he adjusted the growing tent of his lap. "stay quiet and make a mess for me, yeah?" you nodded to his words. "can you use your fingers again, Nanami?" the question was laced with impatience. you missed the feeling of his digits and he knew that. he motioned with your panties, lifting you with ease to remove the now bothersome article of clothing.

"anything you need, sweetheart. the purpose of this is to take some of that stress off of you afterall." Nanami wasted no time to guide his fingers to your sex, slowly inserting his fingers as you leaned forward to let out a moan into his shoulder. he withdrew them once before inserting them again. each time felt better than the last and you couldn't help but wrap your arms around him as he pleased you better than you could even imagine.

you had a strong attraction to Nanami and it's lasted for weeks now. you'd always have theses fantasies about him whether you wanted to or not and neither of them could beat the standard that he was setting. "can't wait to feel you around me, sweetheart." his voice was low, rugged, and you could tell that his patience was slipping. if yours could be slipping and you were the center of his attention, you couldn't imagine how much he was holding back right now.

you saw the strain of his slacks. the way the material showed no mercy to hide the outline of his erection. "we don't have to wait." you finally spoke, pushing yourself up to hold his gaze. "please." you pled, using your hand to cup his jaw. he tried to read your expression, but the lust overpowered everything else.

you reached for his belt, undoing it and following that by unpinning the button of his slacks. in a swift movement, you pulled away his pants and his briefs, the last drop of patience leaving your being at the sight of him. you shifted when Nanami removed his fingers from your sex and in an attempt to finally get what you both wanted, you were stopped by Nanami as he grabbed your hand that was reaching for his length. "patience, sweetheart. take it slow. i don't want to hurt you."

"i can take it. please, Nanami." you couldn't count how many times that word had left your mouth tonight. Nanami gave you everything you asked for, yet you couldn't help but want more. all of him. despite your words, he knew that lust could be blinding so he shook his head, tone stern now. "slowly, y/n." he said.

a small pout was on you lips and he reached his hand up to your face, using his thump to swipe away your messed lip-gloss. "don't give me that look, sweetheart. i know you can take it. I'm not going anywhere until you feel satisfied so there's no rush." you nodded at his reassurance and he placed a supported hand underneath your thigh, helping you balance a bit better.

you kept yourself up on your knees as he gripped his length in a fist, holding your gaze as his tip prodded your entrance. he gently released your thigh just a bit, allowing you to sink down to engulf him with your warmth. he let out a moan through panting breaths, the thought of the people just down the hall leaving both of you guys' mind.

you let out a swear at the entirely new feeling and Nanami gently gripped your jaw so that you'd face him and hold his lustful gaze. he lowered you to sink down on him, both his and your lips parting as you let out a moan of pleasure. "you're so perfect like this, sweetheart." he managed to get out, his eyes admiring the way all of his length disappeared into your sex. he felt pure bliss and you clearly felt the same, given the way that your loudening whimpers began to heighten.

"yeah, you're handling it so well." he groaned as she tightened around him. Nanami help her hips, aiding her in riding him since she was too overstimulated to continue on her own. "so much." you mumbled as you leaned in to place a kiss to his jawline. he sighed from the action of affection and y/n began letting out smooth moans as he slowly lifted you from his length before your skin met with his lap once again.

"make a mess for me, sweetheart. i want to see how good I'm making you feel." he encouraged. you used whatever remains of energy you had to grind against him as you slick began to pool at the base of his erection. he gave you more, and like you have been when it comes to Nanami, all you could think was more. he knew this. he felt it in the way your movements sped up and heightened in incoordination.

he allowed it to happen for a period of time, but immediately stopped you when your moans grew. the whine that left your mouth came straight from your chest, making Nanami feel guilt immediately. "Nanami, why'd you stop? please don't stop." you whined, voice sounding like a broken cry. "i have to, sweetheart. you'll cum if i keep going and i can't have that because i want to taste you when you do."

with that, he quickly lifted you both from his seat and placed you to take his pace instead. he groaned as his length left the warmth of your sex. before you could retaliates, his knees met with the office's carpet and he wrapped both of his arms around your thighs, keeping your legs parted before he leaned in, his lips wrapping around your bud in seconds. a pleasureful whine escaped from your chest and his tongue gathered your arousal, the sweet taste urging him to grip his length with a desperate fist. he groaned into your sex and he placed a stripe of your own arousal against your bud.

his lips latched around the sensitive area as his tongue showed you no messy despite your cries and pleas. you were getting what you wanted which was more.

"Nanami i-i'm-" your breath hitched in your throat. your legs threated to close around his head but he was firm with his grip, holding you in place. "close?" he finished your sentence. "i know. cum on my tongue, sweetheart. please."

without another beat, you did just that, your arousal coating his tongue in just mere seconds. your body jolted and shivered against him and Nanami continued past your limits. your moans filled the room and Nanami released an arm form around your thigh and used his hand to grip his length, moaning as he brought himself to his own high. his cum spurted onto the fabric of his slacks and onto his thigh.

your panting breaths were in quiet harmony with one another and you glanced at Nanami with a dazed expression. he stood up, checking the watch on his wrist before leaning down to your face.

"we made good time, sweetheart. thirty minute break was well spent."

my request are open for everyone! go ahead and drop one! ;)

all work is done by @leahrintarou & @satorusluvrgirl

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[leahrintarou]

✩₊˚.⋆ OFFICE HOURS ONLY - kento nanami

CW: afab!reader, stimulation/penetration, cunnilingus, pet name used is "sweetheart", unprotected sex, gojo mentioned as y/n's fuck buddy, female anatomy.

Word Count: 3.7k

Author's Note: HI GUYZ! this was a collab written by myself and my pookie: @satorusluvrgirl . we worked really hard on this and we're so incredibly proud on how it turned out. i hope you enjoy reading! leave a like and reblog to show support.

WORKING hours and hours at the most famous company really had you fucking drained to the fullest. Getting up at 6 am to be at work at 8 and then going home at 11 pm. Your schedule was mostly full of just work on work on work. But the pay was good at least. And it’s not like you totally hated your job, there was one thing you really looked forward to every morning.

Which was Nanami Kento. The man who would always greet you when you would walk in the office, his “good morning, miss” would always hit the spot, making you look forward to the day. The man who welcomed you on your first day and took you out to get a coffee, little did you know he remembered it, taking you your coffee everyday. The man who would always try to make small talk with you in the break room and ask you little questions.

You knew since the first day you had a huge crush on Nanami. After all he was handsome, well put together, and very well dressed. The suits he had on which made him look so sexy in, they were always top designer suits. Which was understandable since he’s been working longer in this company than you and making more. You wanted Nanami. But the more you thought about him, it just made you more curious about him. is he married? does he have kids? what are his hobbies? but you never made your move. You put the thought in your head that a man like him was most likely married and probably had kids, oh but how you were so wrong.

Nanami was single. A hard working single man who was always working 24/7 and practically had no life other than this job. He never really thought of love. He was always stressed and had no time for anything. He wished he could find someone to relate to his problems. Someone who can probably help him and relieve all this stress he has in him. And he will.

NOW it was 9:30 pm on a Friday, you were working on a big project your boss assigned you, it wasn’t too bad but the first section you were done with. It was just the second section you had a struggle with. You had been working on this project for days, you even had to stay overtime. You set your pencil down and sighed, leaning on your chair. Since you were going to be extending your stay at the office tonight, you thought you should get coffee, italian coffee of course. You grabbed your mug, making your way to the break room which was not too far from your office.

But of course Nanami was in there, He turned his head over to you and flashed a smile. “hello y/n”. you smiled back at him, “hi nanami” you said softly, your voice ringing in his ears. You walked in the room making your way to the coffee machine and pouring it in your mug, your back faced to Nanami. “How’s your project coming along? I see you’re staying overtime to finish it?” he leaned over the counter, taking a sip out of his mug.

you let out a chuckle, “yeah I am.. I got done with the first section of it.. it’s just the second part. i’m just so stressed” you sighed. “i’m sorry about that.. but you know I can always give you a helping hand” nanami offered to you. Maybe this could be your chance to get to know him better, but you knew how stressful it could be so you didn’t want him to help you. “uhm no nanami it’s okay really.. I really appreciate the offer though” you nodded. “I don’t take no for an answer, y/n” he said in a serious tone.

“are you really sure?” you looked at him sincere. “yes of course” he nodded, you sighed. “fine, uhm i’ll go over to your office once everyone starts heading out.” he put his coffee mug down to add more creamer, “sure thing”, you smiled and started walking out, “alright thanks nanami! i’ll see you later” you said before leaving the room.

You let out a breath you held in while talking to him, as you got to your office you squealed lowly to yourself in excitement. It was finally your time with Nanami alone. Just you two, no one else in the office.

AS the time passed you grew impatient, you wanted to be with Nanami, and finally the time came. You fixed up yourself in the bathroom mirror. Lifting up your skirt and fixing your blazer, along with your hair. You also fixed up your makeup since you had your bag with you, you added more of your lipstick and gloss on your lips. You got your perfume and sprayed all over your body.

Looking in the mirror you fixed up a little more. You left the bathroom and gathered your things, heading to Nanamis office. You took a deep breath and knocked on his door which you heard him say “Come in!” you slowly opened the door and slid in. “hi” you said with a small wave making Nanami smile. “here come take a seat” he patted the seat next to him by his desk. you took your seat, you opened up your computer and pulled out the section you had to work on for the project. Nanami pulled your chair closer to him making you widened your eyes.

“Sorry I couldn’t see your screen” he said. You nervously chuckled, “i’m sorry about that”. You turned your computer to him. “It’s fine, let’s get to work shall we?” you smiled and nodded. “yes, let’s do it..”

An hour had past by, you and nanami quickly opened up to each other. Just like how you hoped for. He was telling you everything you wanted to know, To his hobbies, to his favorite ice cream color. You were admired by him, the way he talked about his passions with you. It just made you fall for him even more.

Nanami wasn’t really the type to open up quickly or even talk, but with y/n it was different. She was different. She was a breath of fresh air and that’s something Nanami needed in his life. Y/n made him feel at ease. He felt like he could talk to her without being judge, vice versa with her as well. Not only that Nanami always noticed y/n. She was very hot. But he thought she had a boyfriend, a girl like her was probably in a relationship. he was wrong like how you were.

“Alright I think that’s the last of it” Nanami typed the final words in and sent in an email to the boss. “thank you nanami I really appre-” you got cut off by a notification on your phone, making you both look down as your phone was placed in between you both. Giving Nanami access to see your phone clearly and so did you.

GOJO: haven’t seen you in a while, angel. can I see you tonight?

“boyfriend?” Nanami looked away from the phone to you. You looked at him at the same time, “no he’s just a friend”. Nanami raised his brow at you, he wasn’t convinced. “friends send each other those kin-” once again your phone rang and it was gojo again…

GOJO: [attachment image] (dick pic)

“Friends send each other those type of messages and pictures?” Nanami teased. You turned off your phone, “it’s not like that..” you sighed. “you’re not going to reply?” you shakes your head no, of course not why would you reply when your with the man who you’ve been dying to spend time with.

“I'm just too stressed to be dealing with him right now” you closed your computer. “I could help with that.” Nanami smirked and put his hands on your thighs “h-huh?” you stuttered in disbelief but as you turned your head a bit, all that you saw was the genuine expression on his features.

Although you weren't too familiar with Nanami all that well, you couldn’t help but feel sure that he wasn’t the type to play games. His serious demeanor combined with that smirk hinted at a depth you found irresistible.

“Y-You could help?” you echoed, your heart racing as his hand lingered on your thigh. It was a bold move, and you were torn between excitement and nerves.

“Just a little stress relief,” he said, his voice low, leaning slightly closer. “Sometimes we need more than just coffee to unwind.”

You swallowed hard, searching his eyes for any hint of insincerity. But all you saw was a desire that mirrored your own. “What do you have in mind?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Nanami chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, we could start by talking about what you really want,” he replied, brushing his thumb gently against your skin.

The heat radiating from his touch sent shivers down your spine. “I... I want to know you better,” you admitted, your heart pounding. “But I don’t want to complicate things.”

He leaned back slightly, giving you a searching look. “Complication can lead to something beautiful,” he said, his tone earnest. “And right now, I think we both need a break from this endless cycle of work.”

"I guess you could say that."

Nanami hummed at your word, his hand sliding a bit more up your thigh. you heart thumped against your chest and you were sure that if you released your body from it's tense state, it would beat right through your chest. "now," he began, making you look up at him, your eyes locked on each others.

"tell me your answer to my previous question, y/n."

"what i want?" you question. it seemed like you were making sure that you understood what he meant, but in actuality, you already knew. you just needed some kind of excuse to give yourself time to think and answer the question properly without making a complete fool of yourself. he nodded, sitting up properly in his seat.

"i just need a break from this project. that's all." you finally confessed. although it was the truth, it wasn't the entirety of it. "then lets take one. I'm sure thirty minutes won't hurt."

"just thirty?" you questioned, eyes widening at his next word. "what? you think it'll take longer for me to get you to feel good?" his fingertips finally grazed your clothed sex with a careful motion. your body jolted just barely, but with the way Nanami's gaze was on you, he of course noticed it.

"relax for me, sweetheart. this is supposed to help you feel better." he twisted his wrist slightly, allowing the pads of his middle and ring finger to press against your clothed bud. you let out a shaky breath and as he applied more pressure, the feeling only increased. "you know, there's a few people down the hall." he muttered, using his freehand to turn your chair so that you'd face him. "all had the same idea as us to stay after hours and finish up some work."

Nanami mentioned this on purpose. he knew where he wanted to get with this and you began to pick up on it too when he began massaging circular motions against your sensitive bud. "as much as i want to hear the beautiful sounds you make, you have to be quiet, okay?" he features softened and you so badly wanted to feel relaxed by it, but the more he continued, the harder you'd bite down on your bottom lip to suppress the slipping whimper.

you shook your head, holding his gaze and moving your hand to grip his wrist. "Nanami-" he only sped up his movements, and this time you couldn't help but let out an audible moan. the fabric of your panties only gave you more friction. his hands were skillful and heavy in a way that you couldn't even begin to explain. "that's going to be a problem, y/n." he spoke, his voice snapping you out of your small daze along with the fact that he stopped his movements.

"what is?" you asked, uneasy not just by his words, but his tone as well. he couldn't have just played you and decided against you guys' dangerous idea, right? that wasn't like Nanami, but when you thought deeper, you realized that maybe it was. afterall, you didn't know him all that well. "oh, don't sound so heartbroken sweetheart." he said, a small frown on his lips at your despairing expression.

"i-i'm sorry." you quickly said, shifting a bit to get out of his grasp, but he stopped you with a hand against the arm of your chair. "that's not it. you've got the wrong idea, y/n. i meant that you can't make such sounds. so loudly, at that."

confusion struck you just as hard as the realization. you weren't thinking straight at all. call it the stress, fatigue, or lust, but it was all scrambling your train of thought and it was obvious since you hadn't even noticed the fact that Nanami was guiding you to stand as he still sat. he pulled you closer to him, one of his knees making its way between your parted legs. "take a seat, sweetheart. I've got a solution to that vocal mouth of yours."

you followed his words and took a seat right on his thigh, your legs straddling either side. Nanami admired you deeply and lustfully, yet he was able to keep his composure. you on the other hand, couldn't help but grind down just a bit at the lack of attention that you needed in certain areas. Nanami quirked an eyebrow at your actions, and while you wanted to feel regret for your impatience, you couldn't.

it simply felt too good.

"please touch me again, Nanami." you muttered, the feeling of yearn coming to you when you glanced at his hand that rested against your thigh. he only lifted your skirt, pushing the item further up to reveal your clothed sex. "let's keep you quiet for a bit, okay?" he muttered, his freehand meeting with your nape to pull your face down closer to his. your lips met after a small pause and Nanami pulled you in in mere seconds.

this new position allowed you to press your bud against his thigh and for Nanami to use his other hand to reach around you and pulling your panties to the side. the tips of his digits traced up and down your slit, making you moan into his mouth. he retreated his fingers just as swiftly and planted both of his hands on your waist, firmly gripping your flesh as a sigh fell onto your tongue.

you parted your lips as his tongue slid against your own. he griding your sex against his thigh, using your hips to control your body. a whimper escaped from you but he devoured it just in time for it to only be muffled. "I've needed you for so long, y/n."

this caught you off guard. you could've never imagined that Nanami would think such a thing and better yet say it to you. "everyday you show up to work, i can't help but drive myself insane just by thinking about you." he groaned, firmly holding your hips in place as he pulled back to look down at his slacks.

the dampened area just beneath your sex sent a wave of embarrassment over you and Nanami only let out a strained groan as he adjusted the growing tent of his lap. "stay quiet and make a mess for me, yeah?" you nodded to his words. "can you use your fingers again, Nanami?" the question was laced with impatience. you missed the feeling of his digits and he knew that. he motioned with your panties, lifting you with ease to remove the now bothersome article of clothing.

"anything you need, sweetheart. the purpose of this is to take some of that stress off of you afterall." Nanami wasted no time to guide his fingers to your sex, slowly inserting his fingers as you leaned forward to let out a moan into his shoulder. he withdrew them once before inserting them again. each time felt better than the last and you couldn't help but wrap your arms around him as he pleased you better than you could even imagine.

you had a strong attraction to Nanami and it's lasted for weeks now. you'd always have theses fantasies about him whether you wanted to or not and neither of them could beat the standard that he was setting. "can't wait to feel you around me, sweetheart." his voice was low, rugged, and you could tell that his patience was slipping. if yours could be slipping and you were the center of his attention, you couldn't imagine how much he was holding back right now.

you saw the strain of his slacks. the way the material showed no mercy to hide the outline of his erection. "we don't have to wait." you finally spoke, pushing yourself up to hold his gaze. "please." you pled, using your hand to cup his jaw. he tried to read your expression, but the lust overpowered everything else.

you reached for his belt, undoing it and following that by unpinning the button of his slacks. in a swift movement, you pulled away his pants and his briefs, the last drop of patience leaving your being at the sight of him. you shifted when Nanami removed his fingers from your sex and in an attempt to finally get what you both wanted, you were stopped by Nanami as he grabbed your hand that was reaching for his length. "patience, sweetheart. take it slow. i don't want to hurt you."

"i can take it. please, Nanami." you couldn't count how many times that word had left your mouth tonight. Nanami gave you everything you asked for, yet you couldn't help but want more. all of him. despite your words, he knew that lust could be blinding so he shook his head, tone stern now. "slowly, y/n." he said.

a small pout was on you lips and he reached his hand up to your face, using his thump to swipe away your messed lip-gloss. "don't give me that look, sweetheart. i know you can take it. I'm not going anywhere until you feel satisfied so there's no rush." you nodded at his reassurance and he placed a supported hand underneath your thigh, helping you balance a bit better.

you kept yourself up on your knees as he gripped his length in a fist, holding your gaze as his tip prodded your entrance. he gently released your thigh just a bit, allowing you to sink down to engulf him with your warmth. he let out a moan through panting breaths, the thought of the people just down the hall leaving both of you guys' mind.

you let out a swear at the entirely new feeling and Nanami gently gripped your jaw so that you'd face him and hold his lustful gaze. he lowered you to sink down on him, both his and your lips parting as you let out a moan of pleasure. "you're so perfect like this, sweetheart." he managed to get out, his eyes admiring the way all of his length disappeared into your sex. he felt pure bliss and you clearly felt the same, given the way that your loudening whimpers began to heighten.

"yeah, you're handling it so well." he groaned as she tightened around him. Nanami help her hips, aiding her in riding him since she was too overstimulated to continue on her own. "so much." you mumbled as you leaned in to place a kiss to his jawline. he sighed from the action of affection and y/n began letting out smooth moans as he slowly lifted you from his length before your skin met with his lap once again.

"make a mess for me, sweetheart. i want to see how good I'm making you feel." he encouraged. you used whatever remains of energy you had to grind against him as you slick began to pool at the base of his erection. he gave you more, and like you have been when it comes to Nanami, all you could think was more. he knew this. he felt it in the way your movements sped up and heightened in incoordination.

he allowed it to happen for a period of time, but immediately stopped you when your moans grew. the whine that left your mouth came straight from your chest, making Nanami feel guilt immediately. "Nanami, why'd you stop? please don't stop." you whined, voice sounding like a broken cry. "i have to, sweetheart. you'll cum if i keep going and i can't have that because i want to taste you when you do."

with that, he quickly lifted you both from his seat and placed you to take his pace instead. he groaned as his length left the warmth of your sex. before you could retaliates, his knees met with the office's carpet and he wrapped both of his arms around your thighs, keeping your legs parted before he leaned in, his lips wrapping around your bud in seconds. a pleasureful whine escaped from your chest and his tongue gathered your arousal, the sweet taste urging him to grip his length with a desperate fist. he groaned into your sex and he placed a stripe of your own arousal against your bud.

his lips latched around the sensitive area as his tongue showed you no messy despite your cries and pleas. you were getting what you wanted which was more.

"Nanami i-i'm-" your breath hitched in your throat. your legs threated to close around his head but he was firm with his grip, holding you in place. "close?" he finished your sentence. "i know. cum on my tongue, sweetheart. please."

without another beat, you did just that, your arousal coating his tongue in just mere seconds. your body jolted and shivered against him and Nanami continued past your limits. your moans filled the room and Nanami released an arm form around your thigh and used his hand to grip his length, moaning as he brought himself to his own high. his cum spurted onto the fabric of his slacks and onto his thigh.

your panting breaths were in quiet harmony with one another and you glanced at Nanami with a dazed expression. he stood up, checking the watch on his wrist before leaning down to your face.

"we made good time, sweetheart. thirty minute break was well spent."

all credits go to @leahrintarou & @satorusluvrgirl :D

Taglist: @nemoo888 @delicatexmoonchild @flowerpjimin @tedcruzumakii @sugacor3 @selysixn @mitsuyas-version @matchaismylove @cyberrthegreat @ivydoesit23 @riririntaro @ilovechickfilasauce @sincerelyzee @daydreamteardrop @satorusluvrgirl @tired-jaz

[nikoniclove]

Strip club anon here. I’d absolutely love to hear the story, that sounds incredibly awkward but I hope it wasn’t too uncomfortable. I think the strip club they have in mind is a straight club given they’re all straight and I’m not (I’m lesbian). Two of them are dating and the other one is married so not only am I the youngest of the group I’m also the only one that’s single.

I work for a SaaS company as a solution architect. The company started abroad, and in the US, we’re all pretty remote or hybrid (half the week from home, half the week in the office). Twice a year we all travel into one of the cities. It’s usually a couple days of intense 7-8 hours of workshops and cross-functional meetings. There’s always a company-wide social event, and then there’s always a department-role specific social event. Usually those are very drink-y. Given the industry I’m in, I’m usually the only woman at my role level, so I’ve gotten decently good at playing a boy’s game, so to speak.

Anyway.

Summer in-person meeting. I did client work from 7:30 am to 9 am. Led the workshop for ~ 35 people from 9 am - 4 pm with only a 35 minute break. Then had to host the department-role specific social event and be extroverted and all of that. So long day of masking, being on and work focused, and just generally mentally draining.

So there were drinks. (My tolerance is stupidly high, and I’m very coherent drunk. No idea why. Anyway.)

Drinks with most of our team dwindled to 6-7 of us, then to 4. At which point it was about 2:30 in the morning. I was drunk enough that getting into an uber by myself at that time of a day in a part of that city I didn’t know going to a hotel I didn’t know was not a physically safe choice. So when the three male coworkers I was with decided to go to a strip club, my choices were physically safe and awkward with them or potentially physically unsafe and slightly less awkward.

I’m always going with physical safety.

These three guys range in age from mid 20s probably to early 50s. Two of them are single. One of them is divorced and dating again. And I’m on the husband + girlfriend way of life.

Here are my strip club observations in no particular order.

1) I’m really awkward so I had no idea where to look. It felt disrespectful to be watching them (even though I know logically that is the point of that job). So I looked at the floor or ceiling. Definitely didn’t look at my coworkers.

2) I sat on my hands after one of the women took my coworker’s hands and put them on her body, and that’s a lot of touch that’s not for me.

3) I kept asking the women dancing if they felt comfortable and/or respected because again I’m awkward as fuck.

4) my body was physically safe, and my girl can vouch because I was spastically texting her most of the time freaking out.

Fun fact. I texted her “I think I’m in a strip club” at roughly 2:30-3 in the morning, and her response was “you think?”

5) a very nice dancer noticed I was out of my comfort zone and took me back to a quiet private-ish area while I emphatically insisted I didn’t want a dance. She just shifted me some place quieter so I could have a breather out of the main area.

I think had I been with my partner(s) I would have been less awkward and felt a bit freer to pick up on things I might have enjoyed. I’d also want to go when I wasn’t mentally drained from a long, taxing work day full of extroverting.

This is the only strip club I’ve been to, so take it with a grain of salt, but this felt like a very hetero boy activity. It’s all very very much designed to appeal to men. If I ever end up in a strip club again, I’m going to make sure it’s a queer one or a queer community first and foremost.

It was an interesting experience that I do not want to repeat but for having done it, I was as safe as I could have been and it will make for an interesting story, so I’ll take it.

Also my girl definitely kept me afloat while I was there, so highly recommend having someone, anyone, you trust who you can lean into as you process realtime. Great if that’s someone you’re physically with at the strip club, but having her available and in my phone was just about the only reason I didn’t fully melt into my own awkward ness or burst into flames.

Just because I’m truly smitten with two different people in many different ways, at one point, I texted her and said something along the lines of “They’re all very pretty but they’re not you and they’re not Husband… well not Husband because they’re ladies… anyway… I don’t know where to look, so the floor is good… but I can imagine how gross the floor is… and I really only want you in any capacity like this… and gahhhhh I don’t want to be here.”

So Strip Club Anon, I have no good answer for you. It’s an experience. I was physically safe. I would not do it again exactly as I did it, but it was a calculated risk that pushed me out of my comfort zone, so all in all, I don’t regret it.

[tmntheadcanons]

Hi! 🖖🏻

Can I ask abt morning routine from tmnt 2003? It maybe fun,if Leo and Mikey are morning persons and Raph and Donny more like owls 🥲

or just Mikey is morning happy boy 😁

Thank you! 🍀

I'm so sorry this took so long! I was out of town for all of January and then I got swamped with school and work. But I love this prompt so much! In these head canons I'm assuming this is on average days where they aren't on late night patrols or anything. Just more casual days.

Leonardo:

Leo goes to bed (or at least falls asleep) late. But he is usually the first to get up in the morning.

I feel like Leo enjoys the quiet first thing in the morning. He likes to get up, make tea and just relax in the living room for like half an hour before anyone else gets up.

He might slip outside for a little bit and watch the sunrise while it's still quiet out.

Tea is his preference for a morning drink but he'll take coffee if he's really tired.

First thing in the morning Leo is usually pretty calm and relaxed. I feel like he might even be more sociable in the morning. Like if someone is up at the same time as him he'll suggest they go out and watch the sunrise together and hang out for a bit.

As a kid, the morning is when Leo got a lot of one on one time with Splinter. He and Splinter would be the first ones up, Splinter would make him tea and breakfast and they would talk. So mornings are kind of domestic and peaceful for Leo.

He wakes up around 6-7. Maybe even as early at 5 depending on how late he was up the previous night.

Raphael:

Usually wakes up to the sound of his family being loud.

If left to his own devices he would naturally wake up at around 10, but he's a light sleeper so he's up around the time Leo, Splinter and Mikey start making noise.

The first thing he does is go and eat breakfast. He just heads straight for whatever Mikey just made and if Mikey didn't make anything then it's cereal straight out of the box for Raph.

Raph isn't cranky in the morning he's actually pretty quiet. He just wanders into the kitchen, casually grunts to announce he is awake, eats his breakfast and lets his brain catch up with him.

Once he is awake enough he'll usually go and do a pre-training work out to get warmed up.

Wakes up at around 8:30-9.

Donatello:

He sets 10 different alarms and he might actually get out of bed at alarm #7.

He violently rolls over, slams his snooze button and goes right back to bed. The movement is so swift now the alarm will only go off for a second so it doesn't wake up the entire house (Not that it matters because he is probably the last on up anyway)

Doesn't even wipe the crust out of his eyes before he is checking his phone.

Donatello is actually the one who is cranky in the morning. If he is awoken before his alarm there will be bloodshed.

He won't be functional for at least 15 minutes right after he wakes up. He makes a beeline for the kitchen, gets coffee and just sits at the table and stares into his mug.

He gets up at 9:30 exactly because that's the latest splinter will let him sleep in for before he starts making comments about the importance of a balanced sleep schedule.

But the day after late night missions he will sleep until 1 pm no problem.

Michelangelo:

Mikey is naturally a morning person. Even when he is up late he rarely sleeps in past 9.

When Mikey was a kid, all the good cartoons were on first thing in the morning. Also Splinter let him watch tv before training so the earlier he was up, the more he could watch. So that trained Mikey to be up when the sun comes up

Mikey's mornings are slow and relaxing. He gets up, wanders down into the kitchen and starts making breakfast. He will throw on some coffee and he'll cook for everybody. Then when he is done he will grab a blanket, sit on the couch and watch cartoons while he eats breakfast. (He never grew out of loving a good morning cartoon)

His usual breakfasts are pancakes, scrambled eggs, waffles, french toast and bacon he likes something sweet in the morning.

Also I bet he puts a ton of cream and sugar in his coffee.

He's upbeat in the morning and he's probably pretty loud. His brothers will wake up to the sound of loud singing and dishes clanging in the kitchen.

On average he wakes up at around 7-8.

[purplesurveys]

1979

YESTERDAY. 

1) What was the weather like? Did it change your plans in any way?  Man I can hardly remember as I was in airconditioned rooms and cars nearly all day. It felt humid when I got home in the late afternoon though, so much so that I had to turn on the aircon earlier than we're usually scheduled to.

2) What did you do yesterday, anyway? I worked for a bit but only did like 75% of the usual effort since it was a Friday + a lot of people seemed to be on leave lol. Rest of the day was spent watching Hobi's tour kickoff live while wolfing down sushi.

3) Did you eat breakfast, lunch and dinner? What did you have? I skipped breakfast which left me STARVING since I didn't expect my morning meeting to run til 1 PM, forcing me to miss out on lunch. Anyway, as soon as that meeting was done I sped home so I could hurriedly eat the leftover clusterfuck of lumpia + turkey croissant + chicken barbecue sandwich I had from the day before. For dinner, I ordered tuna tartare and two kinds of sushi rolls - ordering in food is my fav tradition whenever there's a BTS concert. :)

4) Did you do some form of exercise? What? Not yesterday, but today! I ran a 3K. Not much for most people I'm sure, but given my perpetually low blood pressure and tendency to faint over anything, I'm feeling pretty good!

5) Who did you spend the most time with? I'd say myself? I wasn't feeling particularly social yesterday.

6) What television shows or movies did you watch? I mainly watched the online livestream of Hobi's concert in the evening. GD was also on a talk show that dropped the same time as the concert, so I made sure to catch that after the show.

7) What time did you get up and go to bed? I woke up at 6 AM but got up at 7:15ish so I can prepare to leave for Rockwell. As for turning in, I was in bed around 2:30 AM.

8) What was the best bit about yesterday? Watching Hobi in concert! Seeing his personality kind of shift to being more serious and mature after 2 years of not seeing him is such a welcome surprise.

9) What about the worst? We had work on what was supposed to have been a company-wide mental health break day. But no worries, we fought for it to be rescheduled to Monday so I'm still getting my 3-day weekend.

OH. And also. A bit TMI but the tap water was dirty since I think they spent the night repairing the pipes or whatever...so I had to skip my morning shower. I wouldn't have minded if I was work-from-home, but I had a meeting with clients!!! I felt like shit!!! I took half an hour fixing myself up just so I could look normal, but inside I still felt kind of gross.

10) Did you talk to anyone on the phone? Who? Why? I think I just called my mom to ask how she dealt with the water fiasco lmao, since she left for work earlier than I did.

TODAY.

1) What time did you get up? Pretty late, around 8:30 toward 9 if I remember correctly.

2) What are your plans for today? The day's over, but today I stayed in my room for the most part - I don't really get to do that anymore. I played a game on my phone while having shows play in the background; then in the afternoon my mom took me and my sister out for an afternoon meal with my grandma, cousin, and his girlfriend. I had to zone out toward the end because Hobi's concert was starting and I wanted to watch it LOL, but in any case I cut my watchtime short so I can go back to them.

In the evening, we spent a while at my uncle's coffee shop to catch up, then I ended the day with a run.

3) Have you eaten any meals yet? What did you have? My mom made Vietnamese spring rolls, then we had Blake's when we headed out - our orders were their garden salad, nachos, salmon cream cheese pizza, and truffle mac and cheese.

4) Are you planning on seeing your friends or boyfriend/girlfriend? I was with my family.

5) Does your favourite television show air today? Nope, Good Day is on every Sunday so I have another day of waiting.

6) Have you spoken to your parents yet? I've been with my mom all day; I haven't reached out to my dad yet.

7) How many texts have you received? No texts since I use Messenger, but I've had a few conversations - mostly with Reena as we were exchanging messages during Hobi's concert and also discussed our plans to get flight tickets for June.

8) Are you planning on going to bed early? Nope.

9) Have you done anything remotely productive today? I like to say so :)

10) How much money did you spend so far? Are you planning on spending more later? I wanna say like ₱300? I bought balut when I heard a guy going around the neighborhood selling them hahah, then at my uncle's cafe I also got his espresso martini.

TOMORROW.

1) What time do you have to get up tomorrow? Around 9 AM since we attend mass every Sunday.

2) What do you hope the weather will be like? I'll always answer this with 'cold' and 'chilly' but considering the current time of year, that kind of weather won't be happening for me anymore until late December.

3) Is there anything you’re dreading about tomorrow? I mean just the hour I'll spend in church lmao but nothing more than that. I have no weekend work tomorrow, thankfully.

4) Is there anything important you need to do, or can you just relax? I can relax and I'm crazy grateful about it.

5) Do you have plans to see your friends? Nope.

6) What do you hope will happen tomorrow? I suppose it'll be the same as my usual lowkey Sundays - mass in the morning, maybe a meal out with the family for lunch, then spend the rest of the day either napping or watching stuff.

7) Are you going to wake up at home, or somewhere else? Home.

8) If you don’t have any plans, what do you think you’ll end up doing? ^ Question 6.

9) Do you have to get a work out in at some point? Nope.

10) Will you be working or studying at all? NOPE.

[allthefandomthings55]

Life in the Limelight

Chapter 4

Y/N POV

Friday night 10 PM

I’ve already sent my security home for the night and am sitting at my kitchen table having a glass of white wine when my phone rings. I look down to see the name Spencer Reid. I answer the call, “Hello Spencer. What’s up?”

“Hi, Y/N uh nothings up per se, but I was calling to tell you that I, uh, I can make our brunch thing tomorrow if you were still up for it?”

“Still up for it? Absolutely! I mean did everything work out with work?”

“Oh yeah we found them or her rather.”

“Wow a woman? I would have never guessed that.”

“Well actually although women serial killers aren’t common they do make up about 15% of serial killers. Sorry you did not want to know that.”

“No it’s alright! That was an interesting fact. What time did we say for tomorrow again? Was it 1:00?”

“No, it was 12:30. Sorry not trying to correct you but I have an eidetic memory so I can remember pretty much everything I read.”

“Woah, that is so cool. So like you only have to read chapters once and you have them memorized?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“That’s gotta be helpful on tests.”

“Oh it is. I mean I have three Ph. D.s and a few Masters and a couple of B.A.s”

“Oh, that’s a lot. So you’re like really freaking smart.”

“I like to think so, but that makes me sound arrogant.”

“No it doesn’t! Not when someone else is asking you. Anyways, I’m going to head to bed because I think I’ve had one too many glasses of wine to be talking to an extremely handsome guy on the phone.”

“Oh, ok yeah I will see you tomorrow. Bye.”

“Bye Spencer.” Once I hung up I realized what I said and froze for a moment. I cannot believe I said that. I finished my glass of wine and went to bed.

NEXT MORNING

I woke up at 6:30 Saturday morning and got a little excited about my brunch with Spencer today. Instead I go get ready to work out for today to get my blood flowing. I need to keep working my cardio for my upcoming tour so I start on the treadmill. After I run on the treadmill for a couple of hours I decide to hit the weights. Not much weight but many repetitions. I checked the time after I finished that and it was 9:00. Once I took a shower and only got halfway dressed for the day I went back down to my kitchen. Since it is close to my brunch, I decide just to get a cup of coffee and eat some fruit. When I was done with that I sat and relaxed for a while on my couch. I started to watch some TV. I don’t get to do that often so I took advantage of the down time while I had it. When I checked the time it was 11:00 and I figured I better get ready if I wanted to be on time. Looking through my closet, I decided to wear a black skirt with a white grid on it. I also wore a white sweater; not anything heavy, but something longsleeved that’s light. That last couple parts of my outfit should be the easiest. For my shoes I decide on a black platform that are five inches tall and a simple black handbag big enough to put my cell phone and some cash in. 

At about 12:00 I started to head to the restaurant. I leave out the back way and drove myself to the restaurant. When I get there, I park on the side and call my friend Bella who owns the restaurant. “Hey, Y/N. What’s up?”

“Oh nothing much. I was hoping that you could let me in the back so I didn’t have to deal with people staring at me?”

“Oh yeah yeah I got you. Give me a second.” After waiting just for a couple of minutes she opens the door and pops her head out. “Hey get on in here.”

I follow her in through the door, “So, I’m actually meeting someone here and I was hoping you could tell your staff to escort him to my private table? I just don’t want to make a huge commotion.”

Bella smiles at me, “You have a date don’t you!”

I shush her, “Be quiet! I don’t want anyone to know I’m here.”

“That’s not a no,” she sings quietly. 

“Ok, yes I am meeting a man here, but no it’s not a date. It’s merely brunch or more so lunch.”

“But you want it to be a date.”

“Yes, Bella, I would like it to be a date. This one is different! He doesn’t even know who I am! He came up to me at a coffee shop and we talked for an hour about the book I was reading, the book he is reading, the books we have read and want to read. Not once did he say ‘Can I get an autograph?’ or ‘Oh my got you’re global superstart Y/F/N!’ he just spoke with me like I was a normal person.”

Bella thought for a moment, “What happens when he does find out though?”

I sighed, “That’s why I’m going to tell him here and now; as long as I don’t chicken out.” Bella laughed at that, “Hey don’t laugh, I’m serious. He’s really cute and I think, well I think that he would maybe actually date me.”

Bella stared at me, “Holy shit, you’re serious,” I nodded, “well in that case I wish you good luck and I’ll be your waitress so I can keep an eye on you guys.” 

I gave her a hug, “Thank you so much. Anyways, I’m going to sit down, can you bring two glasses of water to our table?”

“You already know it! Now go sit!” Laughing you went to go sit down and texted Spencer. 

Me

Hey, I’m here. Just tell the hostess my name and they’ll bring you. 

Spencer

Perfect. I’m almost there. See you soon.

While I waited I answered a few texts and wrote down some good ideas for lyrics. “Hey,” you looked up and saw Spencer. 

“Hi Spencer! Good to see you.” 

Spencer sat down in front of you. “Good to see you too. How have you been?”

“Oh I’m good. Just a little busy. How are you?”

Spencer sighed, “I’m as good as I can be at the moment. This last case was kind of tough but we caught the woman doing it so it’s all good.”

“A woman? Interesting. Why would a woman harm other women?”

Spencer took in an excited breath, “Well, women offend for many different reasons. Assuming they aren’t psychopaths, women might offend other women because they are a surrogate for an abusive mother, a woman that got with their ex-boyfriend, or any other of that variety. However- wait nevermind, you probably don’t want to hear this.”

I stared at him in awe, “Woah, that was amazing. How did you know all of that?”

He looked surprised, “Well, I’m actually in the FBI. I’m in a specialized group called the BAU also know as the Bahvioral Analysis Unit. We get called in to different police departments when they are having trouble with killings happening.”

“Wow, that’s amazing. I mean well it’s not great that people are dying, but it’s amazing that you guys go in and help them.”

He stared at me, “Uh, yeah but that’s what I do for work, what about you?”

I cleared my throat, “I, uh, I sing.” I chickened out hardcore and decided not to tell him about my superstar status that I have. 

“Oh, well that’s fun. Do you sing at bars or nightclubs?” he asked inqusitevely. 

“Oh, uh, that’s actually where I got my start. I went from bars and nightclubs, to the opera, then to writing and producing my own music.” I was so nervous speaking that he definitely knew. 

He looked confused, “So how do you make money now?”

“Um, there’s no easy way to say this but I’m a global popstar. I make money through music. And I was really nervous about telling you this because I loved how you didn’t know me at that coffee shop and talked to me like I was a normal person and I really don’t want you to think of me differently.” I rambled out so fast I doubted he could even understand me.

He held out his hand, palm up, waiting for me to grab it and I do, “Don’t worry about that. To me, you are just that really cute girl that I met in a coffee shop reading The Odyssey in Greek.”

I looked him in the eyes, “You think I’m cute?”

He blushed, “Uh, well, I -uh yeah I do,” he stammered out. 

I smiled, “Well it’s a good thing I think you’re cute too.” He smiled at that. Bella came around and took our order and we spent the next hour talking and eating. Just getting to know each other. Although Spencer offered I told him that I’d cover the bill and he let me after I spent fifteen minutes convincing him. 

After I got to my apartment, he texted me asking if I got home alright. I responded yes and asked him the same thing and he said yes as well. I flopped on the couch just thinking that although it was unintentional, this wasn’t a horrible first date. 

[jordanandegypt]

Zürich, Switzerland

Tuesday, Sept 10, 2024

Greetings All.  We are in Zurich trying to change our body clocks by 6 hours.  Easier said than done.  We flew yesterday from Detroit to Amsterdam and the idea is to sleep the night away as we transverse the Atlantic - but both Mark and I got maybe 2 - 2.5 hours of sleep during our 7 hour flight.  We left Detroit at 6:30 PM and arrived 7 hours later in Amsterdam at 8:30 AM their time. - but at 1:30 AM our time.  We had a short layover (1 hr and 25 minutes) but in Amsterdam this is JUST enough time to get to your next flight - so we got to the gate and boarded.  The flight from Amsterdam to Zürich is only an hour and while I may have slept on that flight it was not more than 20 minutes.

We got a pretty pricey cab from the airport to our hotel - but we could not face figuring out public transportation as tired as we were.  Sadly - our hotel room was not ready.  We opted for a leisurely lunch in which Mark had cold spicy melon soup and I have garam marsala butter chicken - both delicious - but really all we wanted was a bed to stretch out on.  (Don’t worry I will not tell you everything we eat!!) After lunch we got the news that our room still wasn’t ready and I did something I have NEVER done - feel asleep in a chair in the lobby of the hotel.  But by 3:30 we were in our hotel and we opted for naps - until 5:00.  Hopefully bedtime will come easily...

Enough about us…. Let’s get to our adventure...

The theme for this trip is “OLD STUFF.”  We will start with "real old" and work our way to "OMG WAY WAY OLD."  We, in the US, get so excited when we see a structure from the late 1600s  or early 1700s - but that is a joke in this part of the world - kinda a “baby building.”  

So let’s start with Zürich Switzerland - our current “home."

From what we have seen, Zürich is a beautiful city surrounded by the foothills of the Alps mountains located at the northern end of Lake Zürich and built on Limmat River (pronounced “Limit” that flows from Lake Zürich.  This city has a history going back centuries. 

The town was founded by the Romans a bit over 2,000 years ago. Recent excavations show evidence of settlement even before that -  over 6,400 years ago. 

We explored the old city from about 5:30 to 9:00 - or 17:30 to 21:00 - as any citizen of the world would say - with a a few exceptions - like us.

Surprises:  There are no “walk/don’t walk” signs - pedestrians just have the right of way - PERIOD!

There is graffiti everywhere - I was shocked!

EVERYONE smokes!  Or it seems that way.  DISGUSTING!

I went to buy our 24 hour pass for public transportation and was told to just keep in with us.  If asked we would have to show it - but there is no check in - check out system.  Trust, my friends.

Things we expected:  Public transportation options would be numerous and easy to use and very clean.

People would be helpful and kind

Things would be EXPENSIVE.

We took the tram to old town and at one point saw this:

While we were listening to  this:  

Kind of eye and ear candy.

I think I forgot to say what the Swiss flag looked like - so here you go…

We ate dinner at an outdoor cafe - late - (when in Rome, so they say) and it was outstanding.  Mark had cold roast beef with horseradish sauce and I had “Rösti” with smoked salmon, onions, capers and a dill sauce.  OMG!!!

Rösti is shredded potatoes fried in butter and made into a mound.  You can get lots of different kinds of “Rösti’ and I highly recommend it.  Split with someone  - it is huge.  (It will be breakfast for us tomorrow.)

Tomorrow - we will explore more than the transportation system.  I’m going to bed. It is 22:00 here and I'm hoping to wake up for the first - and maybe only - presidential debate - which would be 3:00 AM here. If I do - I'll watch it live. If I don't - I will be more rested when I watch it later Either way - we are in Zürich rooting for Kamala!!

CIAO!  (Yes - they say that here too)

[stormboundscholar]

Seeing some results!

Days 25-26/100 of Productivity

Hi everyone, welcome back to my blog. Even though this post is about what I did the last two days, it might be a little bit shorter than usual as I didn't manage to work a lot. Let's start!

Yesterday was actually pretty average as weekdays go. I studied grammar for an hour during my lunch break, and I studied 1 hour of biology at office hours. I got home at around 6:30 and I continued working at 7. I studied for 3 more hours of biology. (some stuff from the urinary system and some homework from photosynthesis and chemo synthesis) I t was getting late so I decided that was all for Tuesday.

Today was a little different! Wednesdays are usually monotonous but I had a lot to do.

Firstly I took a mock exam in the morning. (our principal told us that we will do one each week this year) I was really stressed, as I didn't get a lot of sleep yesterday and I was afraid that I wouldn't do very well. But I am happy wth the result! The test was really easy so this doesn't mean a lot, but I got 98% which is my highest score so far!

The rest of the day was very unproductive. I didn't feel like studying during my lunch break as the exam drained me, and that meant that I only studied for 1 hour at school, during office hours.

I got home at 6:30 again, but I sadly couldn't start studying as early as I wished. We went to visit my grandparents and I couldn't study there. It was fun, but because of that I only managed to start after I got back home, which was at around 9 pm. I studied 2 hours of geometry, (circles and some analytical geometry) and then I decided that it was time to finish up for today.

Overall, it was a decent couple of days. I still think that I could have done a bit better though, so I will try to work a little more in the future.

That's all for now. Good luck everyone, and good night!

[artleaguemdcnorth]

2D- Midterm Preparation - Mandatory attendance on 10/30/23

STUDENTS, READ BELOW FOR A CHANGE OF DUE DATE FOR MIDTERM.

Students, we will have a critique tomorrow at 9:30am

I will issue the first grades for this class and semester then.

Attendance is mandatory for all students, if you miss class today you will need to wait for the next quarter for your grade.

I will review the assignments mentioned on the class Threads last Wednesday.

Make sure you bring those assignments to class.

After the critique we will review the Midterm instructions below.

MIDTERM

We have arrived at week four of the semester. 

Since this is a quick semester, we have to use this week to complete this assignment.

The Midterm is the largest grade of the semester.

As you decide on how to develop a successful idea consider the factors involved in providing you that grade.

I have noted them below.

This assignment will not get  done in one class.

You have today  to start planning . 

You will begin working on this assignment immediately after class..

I will allow students the following days to work on this:

Monday (10/30/23)  - Begin the assignment after class.

Wednesday (10/31/23 ) - ( No class) You will work from home and continue working and improving the design .

Note: Monday 11/6/23 students can use this day as open studio to continue working on midterm. Room is open if you want to work in classroom or you can work from home. (Attendance is optional.)

Wednesday - mandatory attendance ( 11/8/23) - In person Midterm Critique, and bring a printed copy of your artist statement to class along with your work.

Post your final work by 5 pm on Tuesday with a brief artist statement.

We will have a formal critique on Wednesday 11/08/23 at 9:30 am . You need to bring your completed assignment to class on that day along with a printed copy of your artist statement.

MIDTERM ASSIGNMENT: 

Create a Non-Objective Composition with a Limited Palette.

The outcome of your work needs to show that you have spent time considering all options to create a sucessful working composition.

This assignment will require proper planning  to develop a concept that shows you have learned and understand the principles of art and how they work together to create successful works of art. 

Throughout this assignment you also will highlight your understanding of color theory , line and shape, the principles of repetition, variety, balance , emphasis, scale and compositional unity.

Go back on your notes and review those  concepts as you work to develop this idea.

All the work you have been doing since the start of the semester has prepared you to complete this assignment.

For this assignment, color,line  and shape will be the driving force behind your design to create an interesting composition.

Create FOUR ( 6 INCH ) SQUARES:

You will create a  Non-Objective composition, using ONLY FOUR (6 INCH) SQUARES in a cut and paste design that also utilizes a limited palette of only  FOUR COLORS. 

Choose ONLY FOUR COLORS:

THIS IS THE KEY TO THE ASSIGNMENT, it is important to choose four good colors. 

There is no limit as to how much of any of the four colors are used in each composition as long as all four colors are represented in each 6 inch square.

The FOUR COLORS should be harmonious and should represent a full range of value.

Each of the four ground sheets (6 inch square)  will consist of one of the four colors.

You will represent each of the four colors in each square as  your background color.

The additional three colors in each square will be used to balance the visual weight of each color as you create your design and you balance  the composition.

You will have four different compositions that can stand on their own but can also work and relate to each other.

This is a cut and paste assignment.

You will use glue stick to attach the shapes to your surface sheet.

You will layer each color.

That means that if the ground sheet is blue and I am also using green , yellow and pink , I can lay the (green , yellow and pink) on top of the surface sheet and each other depending on my design.

You will have up to four layers in one design for  each 6 Inch square .

NOTE:

NO NEUTRALS MAY BE USED (BLACK, WHITE, GREY , BROWN)

1) Start by choosing four colors.

Review the blog on Color theory again to choose your colors.

Remember the properties of colors and how they interact with each other. That will be important when you create your design.

2) Use FOUR sheets, one 9 x 12 Bristol Page for each color.

3) Apply each color uniformly. (No brush marks)

4) Now cut out 6 inch squares from each color.

These will be your surface sheets , all four of them.

5) The remainder colors will be used to add the design to each surface sheet.

ALL FOUR COLORS NEED TO BE REPRESENTED.

All compositions have the constant of using the same palette (color group ).

The trick is to figure out how to balance each color so that not (one) color becomes predominant. 

In doing so all colors work with each other in a balanced act.

You might add an additional constant of a Shape , or Line.

Remember the principles of  Variety, Repetition , Scale.

Have a variety of Shapes and or  Lines.

All FOUR COMPOSITIONS need to stand on their own uniqueness but also work together as a group.

Once all four square compositions are completed , YOU WILL MOUNT THEM ON THE ILLUSTRATION BOARD.

MOUNTING ON THE ILLUSTRATION BOARD:

KEEP ½ inch between EACH SQUARE  as you center design and frame the work within the 15 x 15  illustration board.

You will earn your grade by mastering the following components:

CRAFTMANSHIP - is important, you will loose points if there are mistakes related to it. Work needs to be glued without any sides lifting.

ORIGINALITY - This is your own idea not copied from anything I have posted on the blog.

CREATIVITY - You’re ability to come up with a creative solution to this assignment while creating a harmonious balanced composition. A solution that expresses your understating of how these principles are elements are used to create design.

MIDTERM is DUE ON TUMBLR on Tuesday 11/07/2023 by 5 pm with a brief artist statement on your intentions .

Your artist statement will adress the following information:

a) How did you approach your project ? 

b) Why did you choose those specific colors?

c) What preliminary work did you do to work out a successful idea?

d) How do you feel about the outcome of your design? 

e) How did your understanding of the Principles of art play a role ain helping you develop this idea?

I have posted some  examples of student work to give you an idea.

As always come up with your own original IDEA. 

DO NOT COPY ANYTHING YOU SEE BELOW.

Notice in the first assignment how each square balances color.

Remember that some colors are louder and some quieter.

See below some successful submissions from previous classes:

A

B

C

D

E

F

G

H

J

K

L

ALL THE ABOVE ASSIGNMENTS ARE SHOWN FOR THE PURPOSE OF SHOWING THE ENDLESS POSSIBILITIES OF THE ASSIGNMENT.

DO NOT COPY ANYTHING YOU SEE ABOVE.

[rjjameshiii]

RJ's Platinum Collection #67: Spyro 2: Ripto's Rage!

Achieved on 5/19/2025 at 3:25 PM

I had played the first game in Spyro's Reignited Trilogy, aka the first Spyro the Dragon game, back in 2023. And for some reason it took me over two years to play the next game in the series. When I was a kid, the only other Spyro game I ever played was Enter the Dragonfly (which is a shit game by the way), so I literally had no idea what Ripto's Rage had in store. But I finally decided it was time to get his Platinum done!

Ripto's Rage sees our hero Spyro get teleported into the world of Avalar by three of its residents - A genius mole known only as the Professor, a faun named Elora, and a cheetah named Hunter. Avalar has been taken over by Ripto, a tiny evil dinosaur wizard who seems to want to take over Avalar and cause untold havoc just for the fun of it. Spyro immediately jumps into action to travel through the different realms of Avalar to help stop Ripto.

This game is pretty similar to the first Spyro, except instead of freeing dragons, each world has its own little mission that Spyro must complete in order to receive a Talisman from the world's leader, and then later on complete side missions to earn Orbs. Since this was my first time experiencing the game, I decided to play it completely blind up until I defeated the final boss, and see what trophies I naturally unlocked along the way. By the time I beat Ripto and finished the game, I had unlocked 10 trophies.

1/30: Well, You Might As Well - Complete Hunter's challenge in Summer Forest.

2/30: Exterminate - Defeat every robot in Hurricos.

3/30: Conservationist 2 - Complete Gulp's Overlook without harming any fodder.

4/30: Long Distance - Complete the long glide to the Orb in Autumn Plains.

5/30: Hypersonic - Light all 6 Gem Lamps in 15 seconds in Glimmer.

6/30: Bad Sushi - Do not feet the Hungry Idol any red fish in Idol Springs.

7/30: Duck and Cover - Don't get hit by Bob in Scorch.

8/30: Rescued! - Headbutt every turtle in the Turtle Soup challenges in Sunny Beach.

9/30: Lockjaw - Destroy every Roboshark in Aquaria Towers.

10/30: RGB - Use all three types of power-ups in Ripto's Arena.

After beating Ripto, I decided to go through all the levels and get all of the miscellaneous trophies that I had missed. Some of these trophies were directly related to completing missions for Orbs, but some of them were just random things to do in the levels. Eventually, once I got all of them, I had 18 more trophies.

11/30: Using Your Head - Charge a goat in Colossus.

12/30: Warm Up The Crowd - Heat up the audience in Ocean Speedway.

13/30: Unburnt - Don't touch the lava once in Skelos Badlands.

14/30: Gnot Cannon - Use a cannon to defeat a TNT Thrower in Zephyr.

15/30: Giantslayer - Defeat every Earthshaper in Fracture Hills.

16/30: Ganked - Steal a Popcorn Crystal from Hunter in Magma Cone.

17/30: Bug Control - Defeat all Draclets in one Superflight in Crystal Glacier.

18/30: Trouble No More - Get a clean run in the trolley in Breeze Harbor.

19/30: Dryfoot - Don't touch the hazardous waters in Shady Oasis.

20/30: Flyin' High - Defeat the Snowmobiles before defeating a Hang Glider in Icy Speedway.

21/30: Bird Is The Word - Flame all the Pigeons first in Metro Speedway.

22/30: Yard Work - Headbash every rock in Winter Tundra.

23/30: Monkeying Around - Charge through every Monkey in Mystic Marsh.

24/30: Sheeples - Don't hit any sheep in Cloud Temples.

25/30: Olly Olly Oxen Free - Defeat the Ox without taking a hit in Metropolis.

26/30: Spitball - Defeat every Robo Bee by spitting in Robotica Farms.

27/30: Buggin' Out - Defeat 5 buggies while charging in Canyon Speedway.

28/30: Conservationist 1 - Complete Crush's Dungeon without harming any fodder.

Now I only had one more trophy to get before the Platinum, and that was for unlocking the permanent Super Flame power-up. However, to get to that power-up, I had to unlock Dragon Shores. And to unlock Dragon Shores, I needed to get all the remaining Orbs and Gems in each level - basically, I needed to 100% the game. This took me a bit of time and was kind of a grind, but once I got it, I immediately grabbed my second Spyro Platinum trophy.

29/30: He's On FIRE! - Unlock the permanent Super Flame.

30/30: Ripto's Remorse - Collect all trophies in Spyro 2: Ripto's Rage!

I really enjoyed this game! I liked how it had an actual plot instead of the barebones dilemma of the first Spyro game, and I really enjoyed Elora and Hunter's addition to the game (the Professor was just ok). However, I think that I might be a bit biased towards the first game, because I still liked that one slightly more. Still, I was very happy getting this Platinum.

Rating: 9/10

[umichenginabroad]

Week 9: Day in the Life at Sogang University (Seoul, South Korea)

Midterm exam season is officially over at Sogang and our 6 day break (also known as Korea's golden week) has started! Many students are either going on vacation or returning to their hometowns starting today, but I have nothing planned, so I'll try to take the free time to explore Seoul a bit more.

I had one exam and six projects/essays/presentations, all of which (hopefully) went well. I think this is unusual for most students at Sogang, since the majority of my friends had multiple exams. Most of my classes are in the "Arts and Technology" department, which seems to place more emphasis on applied learning rather than traditional exams. As someone who much prefers projects to tests, I was relieved!

Since last week was midterms week, we didn't have any regular classes. This week, classes started back up, so I'll go over a typical "day in the life" at Sogang!

On Mondays (one of my "busiest" days of the week), I wake up at around 9:30 AM for my 10:30 "Human Computer Interaction" course. After getting ready, I head to class at around 10:15. Even though the building is only a 5 minute walk away from the dorms, the elevators can be crowded and take a long time on weekday mornings, and Sogang classes are very strict on attendance (as mentioned in an earlier blog post).

The class is lecture based, so I just sit there and listen to the professor until the bell rings 11:45 am. He's not strict about laptop usage, and the course has no exams, so literally everyone in the class has their laptops open doing other things in the middle of the lecture, which I find funny.

When class is over, I usually either buy a sandwich and drink at GS25 (~$5) or eat lunch at "Gimgane", a restaurant right in front of the dorms with cheap and reliable Korean meals that taste home cooked. I almost always order vegetable bibimbap with tteokkochi (rice cake skewers). In total, it only costs around $7. If I'm not feeling lazy, I might walk ~20 mins to a restaurant near campus instead, such as "Sound Kitchen" (for healthy food like poke bowls, salad and hummus, etc.) or Soo (Japanese curry).

Meal at Soundkitchen (left), meal at Soo (right).

There isn't much time between lunch and my next class, so I usually just go back to my dorm in between. My next course, "K-Culture and Media", is 3 hours long, but very fun and low effort. Usually, we watch a K-drama for at least an hour and a half, and discuss it and its relation to Korean culture for the rest of the class period.

Professor showing the class BTS music videos (top left). Snack handed out in class related to the concept of "Jeong" (top right). My half of the dorm on laundry day, hence no sheets, ft. my JJK merch (bottom two images).

Afterwards, I usually head back to my dorm or to a nearby cafe to get some work done, and then get dinner with a friend around 7:30 PM. We usually eat around Sinchon station (near Yonsei University), near Ewha Women's University station, or near Daeheung station (all of which are only about a 15-20 minute walk from the dorms). Of course, getting dessert after dinner is a must, and trying out different dessert places and cafes in Korea has really been the highlight of my time here.

Two cafes near Sogang.

On Wednesdays and Saturdays, HUG (Hands up for Gathering) hosts events for exchange and Korean students to meet, which I occasionally participate in and have always been fun.

HUG event in Yeouido park.

Weekdays are never very eventful, but on Tuesdays and Thursdays, when I only have one class, I enjoy either taking a 30 minute walk to Hongdae or the 30 minute train ride to Itaewon for lunch and to explore. Just randomly walking around has also led to me meeting random celebrities/K-pop groups.

Meeting a K-pop group by Sinchon station (left). What I do in my free time: visiting a JJK popup cafe in Hongdae (right).

Thank you for reading this far and I'll see you next week!

Lilly Richards, Robotics, Sogang University in Seoul, South Korea

[olderjodijournals]

Friday, September 1, 2000

When I got up this morning, I was surprised to hear the well running. I thought that only ran from around 6 PM-midnight. I was also surprised to hear gunshots too, as soon as I turned the fan off, although I couldn’t hear the well till I opened the window. I didn’t think hunting season started till November. I was surprised someone would be hunting this early in the year, on a weekday, and as late as 9:30, although they hunt between 6:00 to that time and even later during the winter. You can even hear afternoon gunshots then.

In the trailer, we heard gunshots and dogs. In the house, it’s music and engines. I’m certainly not as stressed out as I was when Labor Day in Phoenix came around, but I’m not totally relaxed, either. People need to be heard. Maybe not as much out here as in Phoenix, but they still need some attention and acknowledgment.

Another thing that surprises me is that I’m going on day 4 of being stuck, although I expect I’ll go some time today, I still woke up a pound lighter yesterday and another pound lighter today, weighing 114. I’ve done nothing to cut my calories lately and have been plugged up, so I’m surprised I’m not close to 120.

Houdini’s turned into a morning rat. He’s waiting for me when I get up, then after I’ve had my coffee, he likes to run around for a while till I send him home with some cheese.

Later...

Here we go with the damn motorcycle. I expect to hear that nearly every day. Personally, I prefer that over Dan’s gunning, cuz the motorcycle’s higher pitched and easier to drown out with fans, but I need something more like music to take out Dan’s gunning. Speaking of lonely boy, I’m surprised I haven’t heard from him yet, although the weekend’s not quite here. It appears he hasn’t been out at all today. Probably sleeping in after the long drive. He could’ve flown back from Indiana, but he strikes me as more of a driver than a flyer. I asked myself how he could afford two places since he’s home more often than not. He only seems to work 20-30 hours a week, but look at what he lives in. He has an old single-wide dump and he’s skinny as a rail, so he probably doesn’t eat much. He probably has an old dive in Indiana too, so all he really has cost-wise is electricity and phone. I’ll bet his places are paid for.

No more motorcycle? Maybe they took it to actually go somewhere, rather than to ride around their property and zip up and down Meadow Green.

I am not looking forward to the 7th, knowing I gotta go in there and make like I’m the only one that did wrong, although again, it’s a debatable and a matter of opinion as to whether or not I did wrong, even though the laws say I did, and basically kiss ass and hope to dodge jail. If ever there’ll be a time I gotta feel totally degraded, humiliated and controlled, it’ll be in court. I’m just so sick of other people telling me what I gotta do and where I gotta go! I’m not a kid anymore! I just want to live my own life, for God’s sake!

Later...

Mr. Motorcycle is still out living it up, zipping up and down its yard and the street, but not by our house. That tells me that yes, I’m definitely, definitely in for a concert from them this weekend. That in itself (the cycling) is a definite I-want-attention thing. A surefire look-at-me, listen-to-me thing. Fortunately, I can’t hear the motorcycle that well in here. If it were just a few feet away – ugh! Not even fans could drown it out and I’d have to have music playing incredibly loud or listen to music through headphones.

Tom’s home now. Got some shiny foil-like stickers in the mail from a back-to-school ad. Seeing that I haven’t heard from the art school about what their courses entail, and their prices, I’d say that yes, they’re definite quacks. If you can’t be up front with someone about your business, then you’re probably shady in some way.

Tom said that the gate is open, but it’s not open the way it’s usually open, suggesting someone may be getting the place ready for Dan. But what about the engine gunning? I asked. He said that’s something someone would do – get engines ready on vehicles that hadn’t been driven in a while. This weekend will tell, but I think he’s there, even though I only heard one vehicle (he has several trucks) being revved for a few seconds. Nonetheless, if he’s there, we’ll hear his music/engines.

I ditched the lesbo story I had begun. Again, it just wore off me. I get in sudden moods to write stories, I begin the story, then the desire wears off.

I told Tom that if he ever decided he wanted a job change, although I can’t see him wanting to go to college any more than I ever did (wow, something we actually have in common!), he’d make a damn good public defender. Or some kind of defense attorney. This is because of how much he likes to defend whoever’s being accused of whatever or at least suggest reasons why they could be innocent, and because of his opposite obsession. He’s hooked on disagreeing and wanting to be different in any way he can. Being a defense attorney would be great for him so he could defend his client and challenge the DA.

Saturday, September 2, 2000

Last night was quiet. I started to believe Tom’s theory about someone else opening up Dan’s place and getting it ready for him was right, cuz of something I saw that was out of character for Dan. A light outside the back door burned late into the night, yet he’d never have that light on unless he was outside. When he was inside, he’d turn the outside lights off. I know he couldn’t have been outside cuz it was too quiet, and cuz he also has the carport-like thing lit up too, when he’s out. Tom said he heard movement over there while he was out working on the car, but again, time will tell if it’s him, although it probably is. If it is, he’ll blast off or gun off at some point during the weekend, although his shit’s not limited to weekends. He can blast or gun off at any time. Darkness and wind don’t stop him, either. In fact, last winter he seemed to prefer the wind that’d carry his noise even further. Sounds also carry better at night, and he knows more people are around at those times, too. Anyway, I expect to hear music from him and definitely from the renters this afternoon or this evening. Probably more towards the evening.

I can’t wait for it to cool down. Not just cuz I’m sick of the constant heat, but it’ll also help lessen the bugs. These little black bugs bred from the puddles of water that huge storm left, making it impossible to open windows and take advantage of the almost cool, pleasant evening air, cuz they can get right through the screen and they’re more active at night when it’s cooler. Well, slowly but surely the weather’s cooling down, but we probably won’t need heat till well into October.

It’s funny to think that all apartments in the northeast had their heat turned on yesterday. It’s the law that they go on September 1st and stay on till June 1st. This was always a miserable time for me, Labor Day, as a kid. This is when we’d leave the beach in Old Lyme, CT, and head to our MA house in Longmeadow. Although I preferred the house over the cottage, it was a depressing time cuz school was about to start, and I hated school. Especially grade school. I liked middle school better, and high school even better. The real one, that is.

I was watching shows about airplane disasters and car crashes. I found the test car crashes with dummies to be the scariest, cuz car wrecks are so much more common than plane crashes. Even a lower-impact car crash is very violent.

Last night my mind got a little racy on me. I’ve been getting up a half-hour earlier each day, yet I’m still going to bed at midnight–1:00, cuz I’m all wound up. A 3mg Melatonin alone just won’t knock me out. I need Benadryl, too.

In my mind, I kept going back and forth between, “If only I had just taken their shit! If only I’d been a doormat and let them stomp all over me while I turned the other cheek and at least pretended to ignore them since I couldn’t ignore them for real, cuz then I wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Then I’d switch to, “If they had just shut up and left me the fuck alone, I wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Tammy and I once argued over blacks. She asked me, “How many good “N’s” do you know?” and I defended these people. Can you believe it? I defended them! How embarrassing to think I defended them, but anyway, as time went on and I got fucked over by more blacks, I was the one to ask myself, “Yeah, how many do you know?” Not many. Not very many at all. There may be 100 white assholes for every 1 good white, but there are 1000 non-white assholes for every 1 good non-white. I don’t know if it’s something in their culture, their genes, or what, but I’d be kidding myself to say they’re no better or worse than us. 80% of the prison population is black for a reason. I think it’s cuz they’re caught in the past. I think, be it subconsciously or not, they’re using the fact that their ancestors were slaves as an excuse to act out. They somehow feel justified by the way they were treated in the past. When are they ever gonna let go, grow up, and move on?

Later...

Wow, it took till 3:00 in the afternoon to hit 100 degrees. Yes, it’s cooling off.

Tom’s in the shower now after working on the car. He said it was much easier to fix than he thought it’d be. That’s a first. And it didn’t cost anything, either. Just time.

I’ve been seeing this same lizard around a lot. The way I know it’s the same lizard is cuz its tail is missing. I also noticed little pink flowers sprouting up through some of the weeds out there.

For the not-so-cool news. No, Dan and the renters haven’t acted up yet, but the pickup got its stereo fixed just in time for Labor Day. So now I gotta listen to that blast by till it breaks again. I’m hoping that when it breaks again, if it breaks again, they’ll either not bother fixing it, or that they’ll move out (then God can replace me with a new blaster). My guess is that they’d move out before they just threw a $400 stereo away. And again, these people need things like this almost as much as they need oxygen. In fact, I don’t know what the fuck any of these Mexicans are doing out here in the first place? Why would they want to be out here? There’s nothing for them out here that I can see.

I’m not at all looking forward to tomorrow’s bullshit sex session, although he may put it off till the last minute and wait till late Monday. I can’t remember anymore when sex used to bring me pleasure. Instead of bringing me any pleasure, all it brings me is pain and boredom. Even though I only feel it when we screw, I’m sure it’ll hurt when he goes in there. The skin around the opening just never heals. Tell me I’m not sexually hexed, given all the irritation I’ve had and the kind of sex I’ve had with people, and I’ll tell you you’re full of shit. It’s too obvious it’s a curse. No one gets this “unlucky” with sex year after year after year.

Later...

The pickup went by quietly. Broken already? Nah, I doubt it. There were at least half a dozen freeloaders this time around and they probably had the music off so they could hear each other discuss what drugs they were gonna buy/sell. They’re more active again. Yeah, having the stereo fixed will probably prompt them to come and go more often. Gotta get out and spread the holy bass!

Later...

Time goes by. I live my life. I think about the everyday things in life. And then this court shit pops into my head, souring my mood, quickening my heartbeat.

No activity at Dan’s or the renters. Too early, too hot. Although the southwestern heat has never failed to keep outdoor activity down like the northeastern cold.

Sunday, September 3, 2000

I did an experiment yesterday and switched from Albuterol back to Primatene and it seemed to help me get to sleep more easily. The Albuterol makes me more jittery so that may be why. Maybe I’ll stick with the Primatene for a while. It was still hard to get up after barely 8 hours of sleep, and I was like – you fucking freeloaders! Fucking freeloaders! Get out of my life! I just want to fucking put them behind me where they belong and get on with my goddamn life – aaaarrrrgggghhh!!!!

Anyway, the good news is that I’m losing weight without even trying. Lately, I’ve had no willpower whatsoever to keep my calorie intake down to 1000 calories, give or take 100. I’m still working out every day, rowing for 3-5 minutes, and doing 15-20 minutes of exercises. Actually, I’d say I’m having an easier time keeping my weight down than I’ve had at losing it. I’m 112½ pounds. Will I get down to 110? I don’t know. I haven’t had any dreams or premonitions saying I will, but my logic says I will. Or at least my wishful thinking does. As I said earlier, though, this may be it. I may not lose any more weight/inches from here on out.

There is one thing I did vibe that happened; the renters blasted off last night. I wouldn’t have known they did without my turning the fans off to listen to what was going on around me. Now, I can’t swear it was them, but it probably was. This was just before 10 PM. Dan’s place was pitch black all night. Again, this is out of character for him when he’s home. When he’s home at night, and inside the house, a window is aglow with light. Back to the renters – I got a distinct feeling last weekend that these people would blast off every weekend, and it goes with my vibes that told me there’d eventually be music from back there. I’m just glad it’s weekly country music, rather than daily Mexican or rap music, but give it time. Just give it time and we’ll have a whole shitload of freeloaders back there, home all day and night with nothing better to do than blast music and harass their neighbors. Anyway, you can hear the beats with no fans on, and I can live with that even though I shouldn’t have to. No one should be forced to listen to other people’s music within their own homes, be it in the city or rural areas. It’s a sick sad thing, but there’s nothing anyone can do about it. Someday, we’ll wish these kinds of stereos still existed, that’s how much louder they’ll keep getting.

When Tom was out burning at 7:00 this morning, he said he saw the renters zipping up and down their property and alongside Dan’s on the motorcycle. That early?! I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, but what would they be out that early on a motorcycle for? Trying to wake up those late Sunday sleepers? Probably so. Tom said he got the impression they were working on the thing, the way they’d try it out, then seem to make some sort of adjustment to it. I think they’re trying to draw attention to them and their place, or else they’d be riding on the roads.

Later...

Earlier, I thought I saw Dan walking around his property, but I can’t be sure. I think it might’ve been him cuz of what he was wearing, and why he’s being so quiet beats me. Maybe that music I heard last night was his, although he never usually sits and listens to it in total darkness. When he blasts off, he’s outside with the place lit up. Anyway, he was wearing a white T-shirt and a white cap. I swear – every time I see this guy, that’s what he’s wearing. Does he own no other outfits? Or are all his shirts white?

Tom helped me get eardrops in the bad ear. I had to have his help because that ear is now totally deaf and I couldn’t tell when the canal was full. I can tell in the other one, cuz sounds get softer as it fills up. He looked in it and said there was a bunch of dead skin, so that may be blocking the canal, but I don’t know. I think I’m deaf in that ear and have been for some time now. No big deal. That’s all I knew for 29 years.

We watched TV together, read together, and did things on our own; he raced his car on the computer and I sang. I listened to music, played with Houdini, took a shower, did a little load of laundry after Tom got his work clothes dirty in applying the car’s final epoxy treatment, and now I’m writing. I don’t expect I’ll have anything more to say today, other than to write about tonight’s music, but I can do that tomorrow. I don’t expect we’ll screw today, either. Couples who aren’t really into that tend to put it off till the last minute, and this weekend, the last minute is tomorrow evening. So, I guess I’m gonna shut down early today. I’ll go read one of the two Robin Cook books I think I might like, cuz I finished my third John Sandford book, and hope to hell I like it, cuz I don’t know how soon I can get to a bookstore.

Monday, September 4, 2000

I couldn’t get into the book. Well, I’ll just wait till Thursday. Thursday, after court, we plan on stopping at a used bookstore.

This is the quietest Labor Day I’ve experienced in the last decade. Well, that might be stretching it a bit. Labor Day of ’96 and ’97 were basically the only noisy ones of the last decade, thanks to the blacks. The blacks were quiet for ‘98’s cuz of my city letter, although I’m not sure. I thought I didn’t send the letter till late ’98 or early ’99 (I should’ve sent it in March ’96), but I know there was a Labor Day when they surprised me by going somewhere else for a change. Other than that, Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s, everything had to be celebrated at their place at our expense. The Mexicans, on the other hand, weren’t any noisier than usual cuz to them, Labor Day was like any other day, cuz they were too lazy to work. The blacks did work, and I don’t get how they got a free house any more than the Mexicans did. Not only do I not get how you can get a free house simply for being too lazy to work, but I also don’t get how you can get one if you work. If you work, why do you need someone to give you a house? Not that we’d want one, but Tom works, so could we get a free house? I doubt it. I have a feeling we’re too white, and we’re certainly childless. All the hand-me-outs go to those with kids, handicaps, and skin that ain’t white.

I’m surprised it’s been as quiet around here, too. I didn’t expect it to sound like Phoenix, but I thought there’d be some music and gunning, but nope. Not yet, anyway. If anyone blasted off last night, I wouldn’t know it, cuz I didn’t turn the fans off to check. Even the pickup hasn’t returned to making several trips in and out per day.

We screwed earlier, and what a fucking joke, as usual. I not only had the irritation I know I’m stuck with for the rest of my life, but he’s so damn predictable. I told him I’d stop him if he was too soft to go in there. “Talk less,” he told me. 

I thought communication was important in a relationship. Well, obviously not to him. Especially when it concerns sex and when you’ve got a husband who dominates sex according to how he wants it, without a care for what you may want. He asked if I wanted to wait cuz I didn’t seem so excited (gee, I wonder why!) but I said it was up to him. So I did him by hand for about 5 minutes, and he went up top for about 1, then suddenly stopped to say he thought our potatoes which were in the oven would be done any time. Any normal guy would’ve carried on till the timer beeped, but he was gonna cum. I know he used that as the perfect excuse to quit before he squirted, but why? Why make such a huge sacrifice when there’s such a thing as birth control? I still don’t get that, and I obviously never will.

He researched potbellied pigs some more online with me in the room with him, and I don’t want one. A miniature pig gets to be a whole 125 pounds and they cost over $100.

We tried researching p-dogs to see if we could find out why I haven’t seen them much lately, but we’re still not sure what they’re called out here. What they call prairie dogs is in the Midwest and is a lot bigger than these. I don’t know if they’re going out of season or if there are snakes around scaring them into hiding.

Later...

I gotta stop saying how I haven’t heard from the freeloaders, or whoever, cuz again, right after I last wrote, the fucking freeloaders went blasting by pretty loud. Tom and I could both hear them from his office. Fucking mother-fucking freeloaders!!! I HATE THEM!!!!!!

Tuesday, September 5, 2000

Just left Sharon my weekly message, reminding her that I’ve got court this Thursday. I am not looking forward to this! How humiliating this is going to be! It’s been nearly a year and a half since I lived with the blacks and almost a year since I lived with the Mexicans, yet I still live with them. I still do what they say I have to do.

Always with me, always with them. Will I ever be able to say: Once with them, but never again? After 4 years of this bullshit, I highly doubt it.

I’m a little disappointed in Mary. Not mad like with the blacks, Mexicans, and people back east, but annoyed, irritated, that sort of thing. We’re obviously not getting her big TV, and what irks me is that she even bothered to bring it up. Well, you shouldn’t bring something up like that to a person unless you’re serious. She got me a bit psyched up at the idea, and it’s not the first time I’ve been let down, and it’s certainly not the end of the world either since we have a nice enough TV that they got us for our anniversary, but that’s beside the point. I should’ve known better, too. God wouldn’t let us just have a big screen TV any more than he’d let us just have that trailer. There is a good side to not getting the TV, just like with the trailer, and that’s that we don’t have to be punished for it, cuz anything we do get, we have to pay for in ways that most people don’t.

All I heard yesterday was that 3-minute drive-by bass session from our local freeloaders. I’m sure they’ll let me know at some point, even if it’s just once when they go by again.

Houdini’s behavior was cute and funny the other night. Ratsy’s too. I guess they love tuna fish too, cuz they were both licking extra tuna from a little bowl. These things really will eat anything. That’s one of the disgusting things about rats, as Tom pointed out. When one dies in the wild, other rats eat it.

Later...

I guess Tom will be home any sec. Meanwhile, I’ll do some writing.

Again we researched the black snake to try to identify it. For a minute we thought it could be a black rattlesnake, but once again, its looks and behavior fit that of a coachwhip.

I saw the pickup go quietly home at around 1 PM, and some time yesterday, after they went banging by, they went by quietly. Stereo broken already? It’s too soon to say for sure. After a few more times of going by quietly, I’d say yes, because they wouldn’t opt to not play it that many times in a row, but not until then.

Later...

Tom just got in. Said another tire blew. Thanks again God, for your wonderful timing.

Last night I woke up sweating twice. It was really weird. And when a power failure woke me up at 7:30, right around when I was going to get up anyway, I was sweating then, too. The power was only off for a few minutes. Anyway, it wasn’t the least bit warm in here, so I can’t explain the sweat spells.

This may sound even stranger, but I realized something lately. I’m no longer raging over the assholes back east. Don’t get me wrong, I still hate them, wouldn’t want to associate with them, and would never forgive them, but I no longer find myself gripped with sudden feelings of rage like would be the case for so long (perhaps my final round of mail did it). It’s like with the folks – the emotions I’ve had towards these people have gone numb, and as with the folks, if someone told me they died I would be like – so? I wouldn’t feel anything either way. Despite the years of abuse they’ve dished out to me with their lies, manipulations, control, vindictiveness, negativity, insensitivity, hypocrisy, contradictions, phoniness, moodiness, and despite all the times they were wishy-washy, two-faced, and stabbing me in the back, they’re a completely closed chapter of my life and I don’t want to know them from a hole in the wall.

Later...

Next weekend, when Tom’s here when I get up, I’ll have to have him do something I haven’t had him do in a while - take my measurements.

I tend to leave him messages throughout the day, letting him know this and that, so I don’t forget to tell him later on. In one of my messages, I let him know that telling me to “talk less” when I mention anything about sex, is a major turn-off to me. I was like – you mean I can discuss it with my therapist, but not my husband? Gee, thanks! Anyway, he tells me he didn’t mean never to talk about it at all, but not at that moment. I told him he should reword himself next time and say to “talk later.”

I haven’t seen one prairie dog today. Haven’t seen hardly any lately, no doubt cuz of the snakes hanging around. I kept telling Tom I vibed snakes being under the bedroom and he’d laugh at me. Well, laugh no more, I told him, cuz today I saw a black snake go under the skirting by the bedroom. It could’ve walked up to the side of the bedroom, then slither around the corner to the retreat, but I doubt it, judging by its angle.

Looked back to see when I had my first prairie dog, Iggy, and snake sightings. First saw the prairie dog in March, the iguana in April, and the snake in May.

Wednesday, September 6, 2000

Paul called at 1:00, scaring the shit out of me. He calls apologizing, saying he’s worried he missed me in court, and I was like – What? 

I told him court was tomorrow, and he was like – Oh, today’s Wednesday. 

I thought to myself, no shit, you stupid ditz! What kind of lawyer forgets this? I wondered if there was some other reason he really called that I wasn’t seeing. The pig that came before the swat team used the Robin H story to verify who I was, the biased pig, God knows why, told me it was over when it wasn’t, so again, am I missing some load of bullshit here? Was he really calling just to see if I was around? I don’t see why he would. I never gave anyone any reason to think I’d run off, as much as I wish I could run from this shit. I’m just so sick of it!!! 4 years. 4 fucking years! When is it ever gonna end, huh? When?!?! God, set me free of these sickos. 

Sorry – never mind. You’re the wrong one to be asking for any kind of help.

Our Maricopa freeloaders in the red pickup went in and out quietly. Yup. Stereo is broken. For how long, though? Will they fix it? Learn to live without it? Move out?

I thought I heard planes booming at 2:30, but I couldn’t be sure. It could’ve been thunder, but I don’t know. I didn’t think it was that cloudy. I just hope I can sleep until I wake up naturally the day after tomorrow. I am sooo tired and it’s been sooo long since I’ve slept without having to wake up to an alarm.

Friday, September 8, 2000

Yesterday was sooo humiliating. So so fucking humiliating! But first, I was surprised I only slept till just before 9:00 this morning, but it’s a good thing cuz they are back to booming in the sky. They boomed by just after 9:00 and again a little while ago, and I doubt it’ll be just a few days that they’ll fly this time around. The odds of them crashing another plane so soon seems quite slim. But if they closed the bombing range, then where are they flying to? Maybe what Tom heard was just talk. Anyway, I won’t do a schedule rollover like I’d planned.

Tom agreed with me about Paul not calling cuz he really thought he missed me in court. He was calling to remind me about court. Then why couldn’t he have simply said so? What is it with society and their dancing around the subject? Why is society so afraid to be blunt? The English language was created for a reason. Even so, for some strange reason, people see direct honesty as rudeness.

Tom woke me up at 5:45 with coffee and I was dog tired, cussing the assholes out in my head for waking me up even more here than in Phoenix! By 6:30 we were out the door headed for the dead Denny’s by the hotels we stayed in (and I thought life was so rough and frustrating then!). I got bacon, eggs, pancakes, and sausages. Next time I think I’ll just get pancakes. They’re really good and I don’t have them that often. I also hope that next time there won’t be any ants on the bottom of the syrup holder like there were the last time.

We got to court with nearly an hour to spare. When Paul first came into view, I knew it was him, even though he didn’t look like I pictured him to look. For some reason, I pictured a chunky blond guy, not a thin dark-haired guy. This guy was just under average height, kind of scrawny, fortyish, Italian-looking. Anyway, he bored the fuck out of me with legal talk. The legal talk was basically about the terms and conditions of my plea bargain deal. He said he personally felt this judge we were going to face was “strange,” but not to let myself be shaken up by him. Well, I personally didn’t find anything off about him, but I don’t intimidate that easily anyway, and I’ll be damned if I’ll ever allow myself to be riled up or bullied in any way by any kind of authority figure. It did piss me off when the judge read how an attempted stalking charge meant that I caused the poor little bitch to fear for herself and her family. My ass she was scared! She was pissed, was what she was, and she only went to the cops out of spite. Anything to get at me. Besides, sending journal excerpts is NOT stalking.

I guessed we’d be stuck at the courthouse till noon–1:00 and I was right. What shouldn’t have taken more than a half-hour took nearly 4 fucking hours. I won’t hold my breath, but right now it’s looking like I’m going to get just one year’s probation and counseling, which is better than 3 years of that shit or jail, but I never should’ve had anything to begin with. I did nothing wrong. All I did was express myself. No one forced the bitch to read my mail. I’m sorry if she had a problem with what I said in my journals, but you can’t fuck with people and expect not to have problems as a result of it, and again, the law may say I did wrong, but I say they’re lucky I didn’t do more than I did. A lot more. They got off quite easy by me since it was nothing but words – words I really needed to get off my chest - and I don’t feel one bit sorry for these people. I just don’t.

Anyway, Paul says to me, “Everything will be fine. Believe me, I’m a conservative thinker. I don’t tell all my clients this.”

Yeah, right! I mean, how do I know if he’s bullshitting me or not? The cop bullshitted me, so why/how can I trust him? I won’t know till this is finally over someday, but it is over with the Mexicans. At least, that’s what they told me. Part of the plea deal stipulates they drop the Mexican shit altogether and change the stalking charge to attempted stalking with it being dropped down to a misdemeanor instead of a felony pending “successful” probation (I started with a class 5 felony and now I’m at a class 6 undesignated felony).

Yeah, well, I ain’t about to breathe a sigh of relief and celebrate my finally being free of the black bitch, cuz it’ll take time going by without incident for me to believe it. You know what they say – seeing really is believing. I wonder why they dropped the Mexican lady and kept the black one. Could it be because I called the black bitch and not the Mexican lady? Tom thinks she works in the courts somehow, somewhere, and that’s how she got this pushed as far as it’s gone and knew where we’d be yesterday. He believes Mr. Biased was telling the truth about dropping it, but she abused her authority within the courts to push it and says that’s the type of job a welfare program would have – to wean them into some form of city/court job. Yeah, the fucking bitch looks like court personnel of some kind, so maybe Mr. Biased did tell the truth, and maybe this bitch is abusing some kind of power. There’s no denying that this bitch and Miss Mex look like direct opposites. The Mexican lady was huge and sloppily dressed. This bitch is slim and dresses with style and neatness. A classy-looking professional, so to speak.

We also suspect a huge possibility that Mr. Biased knew damn well it wasn’t over when we had our little “chat,” and that he and the bitch may be close friends – as in VERY close friends – based on the way they carried on in court.

Nonetheless, if having to be arrested, spend the night in jail, and lose all this money and time we lost isn’t humiliating enough, how do you suppose I felt when the bitch and her boy toy showed up to watch things play out in court?! As if I wasn’t already humiliated, degraded and victimized enough!!! This must be how a rape victim feels, I thought, having to face her abuser all over again. It’s a wonder they didn’t show up for my last court date. I know I’ll have to see these sick fucks at least one more time too, cuz they sure as hell wouldn’t want to miss the fun part – the sentencing, which will be on October 30th. No, they wouldn’t miss it for the world. Tom was wrong when he said they’re no longer involved and that it’s just me and the state from here on out unless he didn’t want to tell me differently. I knew deep down that they had a right to be there, but I just didn’t consciously think about it with all I already had on my mind. I should’ve known, though, and it just goes to prove how vindictive and determined this little bitch is. She just doesn’t know when to give up and let sleeping dogs lay and move on. She just won’t go away! I felt victimized all over again by them being there, and I just wanted to fucking smack them! Wanted to shout to them, to the judge, to everyone, that they were 10 times more the perpetrator than I ever was, and list the abuse they put me through, and Tom, too. Wanted to look that bitch in the eye and ask, “Did you really think you could do all you did to us and not get a reaction of some kind in return?” That’s what’s scary about these people; they don’t know right from wrong. They think it’s OK to harass their neighbors, and who knows how far these very sick and very determined people are capable of going, despite their charming appearances? I know they’ve got our address, I just know it. Maybe the Mexicans do too, but truthfully, the Mexicans seem more the type to hunt me down and do God only knows what to the house than the black bitch and company. You just never know with these people. You just never know. Maybe they’re waiting, biding their time. Maybe they’ll come crawling back out of the woodwork in a year or even a few years? Like I said, they just won’t go away. Always with me, always with them.

They say talking or writing about your problems helps, and usually it does, but sometimes it just reinforces all my negative feelings and intensifies my emotions. Tears of anger, frustration and humiliation are in my eyes right now as I write this. How much longer am I going to be these people’s victim? How much more time and money am I going to lose to these people? I know they’re going to end up making me pay a monthly court fee of at least $50, and God knows what they’ll make me pay directly to the bitch herself.

Later…

I have to write about this rather horrendous and traumatic ordeal in spurts. It’s just too upsetting. These fucking freeloaders are still very much a part of my life and it makes me sick!

Hello, Dan. What took you so long to start your engine-gunning shit up again? Yes, it’s definitely Dan. No doubt about that. I brought in one of our 3 box fans, cuz the sound machine’s too soft to drown out his shit, and it looks like this is gonna go on for hours. At least he’s nothing compared to what I had to endure from both sets of freeloaders. I won’t even think of fighting any noise out here, cuz as I learned the hard way, that’d just make things worse.

Tom said that in respect to what I feel about these people, it was funny how she didn’t want to walk by me. Under normal circumstances, I’d find it funny too, but nothing about these sick twists is the least bit funny. Nonetheless, the cock walked by us and sat next to Tom (I was on the aisle). There wasn’t any bench space anywhere else on that side of the room and the front row was reserved for lawyers, so the cock walks by us, glances at me with an I don’t know what kind of expression, then sits next to Tom who was on the inside. The cock’s expression was almost that of a sad one, but I don’t know. This thing never struck me as a very emotional kind of cock, anyway. He’s very Art-like, under his bitch’s thumb. She dictates and dominates the relationship. This would be easy enough to tell even if I hadn’t seen it before in couples like Art and Doe. He’s passive, while she’s an aggressive, loud, tyrant of a bitch who thinks she owns the world and everyone in it.

Anyway, just as he was passing us, she called to him, then spun around and left the courtroom (it would’ve been even funnier if Tom had stuck a leg out and tripped the cock). Maybe he passed us and sat near us to let us know they were there - who knows? They might’ve noticed that I noticed them before. As I turned and glanced towards the aisle, I found myself staring right up at that sick face of hers and she recognized me right away. So shortly afterward, he left, then together they came back and sat on the other side of the room, getting their kicks out of watching me up at the podium as the judge went over the legal terms of my plea just as Paul had, asking if I understood this and that, if I was on any medication, etc., while they got to get away with their shit. How lucky that bitch is that God spared her the humiliation of having to walk by me. Why couldn’t he have spared me the humiliation of being arrested, jailed, and robbed of my time and money by my very own instigators? Huh, God?! God, I hate you!!! I really do!

Maybe he’s compensating me for not having anything happen to me when Stacey and the butch pulled me into court, and for dodging getting served for the bottle toss. I don’t know, but either way, I’ve paid enough! OK? I’ve been made to pay enough! This is wrong and He’s got to know it. Just living with these people for the years I lived with them is enough, to say nothing of all the emotional stress, anguish, anxiety and frustration these people put me through in Phoenix. How much more can you hate me, God? How much more can you punish me? When is enough ever enough? Who are you gonna sic on me when I finally am free of these freeloaders someday? The renters? Dan? Someone else? Someone not even in the area yet?

Later…

Tom got in a little while ago, saying he didn’t hear a thing from Dan. So he didn’t go on for hours this time, huh? I’ll still keep my fan on. This guy’s home all the time, and he could start his shit any time. Besides, the circulating air feels nice.

Got some cinnamon scent cartridges for the office and master bath. Still got that tropical mist oil in the bedroom.

I asked him about the bombing range closing, and yup, it’s all talk and no action. He said he heard they were contemplating shutting it down. They won’t shut it down. I can guarantee that, and if they did, things would get noisier by way of people’s music around here. In a way, I don’t want Dan to shut up, cuz I know I could be replaced with something worse. At least they can’t get right up to the house!

I also asked him why he thought she wasn’t at the courthouse when I was arraigned and he said she wouldn’t have known about it, and remember how the judge asked – has the victim been notified?

Some “victim” she is! Poor, poor little bitch. What a victim - boo hoo!

After seeing the black bitch, I wondered if I saw the Mexican bitch, or at least their associates, but I don’t think so. Not if they dropped them from my life, and I didn’t recognize any of them. Maybe they were in the wrong room or connected to the inmates who were also present in one section of the room. This time, the jail folks didn’t appear on TV, they were there live, sitting in the jury box. There were about a dozen cocks (mostly white) handcuffed and chained together, and a few women, too; two non-whites and a white-zitted blimp. Anyway, a couple of adult female Mexicans with a couple of kids around 5 and 8 sat behind us for a while. Again, I didn’t recognize any of them, but I could’ve sworn that after one of them got up to talk to the sheriff in charge of the chain gang, she gave me a slightly smug smile as she passed by me before she and those she was with left the courtroom. Again, I don’t know if there’s a connection or not.

After the courtroom drama, it was off for more bullshit at the adult probation department where we waited an eternity after I filled out a general info form. A woman finally called me and took my picture with a digital camera. One that takes the picture right onto the floppy rather than onto a card you insert into a special floppy like ours. After that, we went to a different floor where she asked me nearly 200 questions, which took about an hour. A lot of them were alcohol and drug-related and didn’t apply to me. So much for wanting to not give out too much information, as I prefer. I’ve learned through experience and by having information about me used against me that it’s best not to tell people any more than they need to know. I was tempted to lie when she asked me if I’ve ever tried to commit suicide, but I’d already answered enough personal questions as it was, questions that could be checked out and verified, that I decided the truth would be best. She asked me questions about our finances and my family. I told her I wasn’t in contact with my folks and she asked me about my childhood. How was I disciplined as a kid? she asked me. By having the things I liked taken away from me, being emotionally and verbally abused, and sometimes slapped around too, I told her. What was the most traumatic experience I had as a kid? At first my mind was overwhelmed with a zillion different things and I simply told her there were numerous experiences. Later, after the question had time to sink in, it hit me what the answer was: being sent to Brattleboro, Northampton and Valleyhead. Runner-up to that would be my emotional state primarily through my grade school ages. God, was I sooo depressed! Stressed and depressed, but definitely depressed. That woman really depressed me with the way she controlled me and cut me down!

Some questions seemed to be totally irrelevant, like do I think tattoos and body-piercing are OK? I said yes, a person should have the right to do as they choose with their bodies. One amusing question was, are there any gangs, graffiti or gunshots in my neighborhood? There certainly are gunshots! (I explained the hunters to her and just how remote we are) I answered "some" when she asked me if I felt cops really help people and if I felt authority figures abuse their position. I answered "yes" when she asked me if I felt society was to blame for most of the world’s problems. That, and God, but I left God out of it. Again, what people don’t know and don’t need to know won’t hurt them.

After asking me more questions like, do I think it’s OK to obtain money illegally if I can’t legally (naturally I said no, but who knows what I’d really do if I were in a desperate situation), she gave me a couple of envelopes with both addresses and return addresses on them, saying I could get anyone, including Tom, to write a character reference for me. Tom, and maybe Mary too, will be doing this for me, but I don’t see what good it’ll do. Anyone can get someone to write good things about them. So what? Loverboy could write about how wonderful his sick bitch is, but would I believe it? Of course not.

She asked me what I felt I should get for this, and after I expressed the fact that the “victim” isn’t the only victim in this case, I said I felt therapy was enough, but would accept both therapy and probation, stressing my need to “move on.” That was my only lie. What do I really feel I should get? I can’t be given any time back that I’ve lost and nothing can take away the emotional suffering I’ve gone through on account of this, and even physical when my stomach would act up, but what I should get is restitution for any sums of money I lost to this. I should be paid back the bond fee, parking costs, gas money, and things like that.

I’ve got to call my probation officer, Donald, on the 14th, but at least I have over a month before I have to go back to court and be victimized and humiliated all over again. And just because we struck a deal with this plea bargain doesn’t mean it’s guaranteed to stick. It’ll depend on the judge. He could disagree with the deal and send me off to jail, so I haven’t 100% escaped the threat of jail. So, a male PO this time, huh? The woman told me that although she couldn’t be certain, Don may go for just phone contact since I live so far away. Yeah, right! I’ll bet you anything he’ll want to see me within a few days after my call on the 14th. I’m sure he’ll want to see me in person once a week, although if the judge lets us stick to our deal, it’ll lessen over time.

Later…

Tom’s gone to bed. Life may suck in general, but I look forward to the little things in life – reading in bed together this weekend, a stunt show and a new movie I’m taping, etc.

If I remember any more questions the court lady asked me or anything else of significance, I’ll jot it down. Meanwhile, I was determined not to let the little shits get me down, so I enjoyed the rest of my day. Went to a couple of bookstores that were practically side-by-side. One had mostly new books, and I didn’t like the way it was laid out. I like books to be laid out by subject as well as by author. The next store was better organized and most of their stuff was used. I got 4 books, mostly supernatural suspense, rather than mysteries.

I was so exhausted by the time we got back 8 hours later that I napped for a couple of hours. I closed my eyes to block out freeloader thoughts, but they slipped in under my eyelids, for God’s sake! Then into my nightmares, too! That bitch even controls and lives in my damn dreams! I gave a yell as I woke up (I guess we were chasing each other around the courthouse) and Tom was on the phone with Mary who asked what that was. Oops! I’ll tell her in my next letter that I simply had a nightmare.

It was great going to bed last night knowing I wasn’t going to have to get up to an alarm, even if I didn’t sleep as long as I thought I would. I wouldn’t have been able to anyway with them booming by, but I’ll take my chances tomorrow. They might boom by tomorrow, but maybe not, so I’ll sleep in tomorrow, too. Come Sunday or Monday I’ll go back to setting the alarm and getting up around 8:00 - 9:00.

Saturday, September 9, 2000

Got some really shitty news. What else is new, though, huh? This doesn’t pertain to me; it’s about Mary. The lump samples they took from her throat are cancerous. How sad. She is so cursed. Not quite as cursed as we are, and not always in the same ways, but still, hasn’t God put her through enough? She has a type of lymphoma in her throat, and you know what, although I don’t have a death vibe on her, I wonder if she’s “too good” to get through this as well as Bill has (if he wasn’t exaggerating or lying altogether about what he had) because you know how it is – the more of an asshole you are, the more likely you are to live longer, and vice versa. Bill’s been carrying on a normal life for years now and will live a full life, but what about dear, sweet Mary, despite the fact that most cancers are now treatable and survivable? Dear sweet Mary who would never verbally or physically harm a fly? We won’t know more till she sees a cancer doctor next week.

And once again, my anger and hatred towards God and his cruel, unfair ways only deepen.

I asked Tom what one of the most humiliating experiences he ever had was, and this is what he told me: He told me that when he was in the Air Force, he refused to take the required flu shot, not because he had anything against flu shots, but because he felt like he was being controlled by being ordered to put something into his body. So he refused and then a couple of weeks later he got the flu. He said it was humiliating to have to ask for the very thing he refused.

I can relate to his dilemma all too well. I know what it’s like to be controlled and have things forced into my body that I didn’t want in my body (all the years of psych pills). I also know what it’s like to be controlled by not having things in my body I did want in my body once upon a time, too (a kid). Still, I’d trade places with him in an instant. Not that what he went through wasn’t bad, but at least he didn’t go through the same old shit from so many different people, some being your so-called family, and for so many years. I’d also trade in the years of freeloader shit I’ve been going through for a flu shot argument anytime.

It’s back to being June out there, scorching hot. It’ll cool down soon enough, though.

Not much else to report on till the renters blast off tonight, and of course, Dan could decide to get engine happy any time now, as the day cools off.

Sunday, September 10, 2000

My measurements are ridiculous: 36-28½-35½ with 21” thighs. The thighs are doing better, and losing over 2” in the thighs in 5 months is good, but losing a measly 1½ in the waist is pitiful. So is my waist size relative to my tits and hips. If my tits and hips are going to be 35-36, my waist should be much smaller. It should be a 23-24 period. Especially at my height. I’d happily settle for a 25, though. Nonetheless, I’m never gonna be the 33-23-33 I’d like to be with 18” thighs. Tom thinks I’ve lost a sufficient amount of fat and inches in the last 5 months, but I feel it went too slow, and that I’m stuck where I am right now. October 1st is getting closer, and once again, if I still haven’t lost any more weight by then, I’m going to move into the maintain status. I’ve got mixed emotions about this; yes, I want to lose more weight and get smaller, but I’m so sick of all this hard work! Things could be worse, though. I could be 150-200 pounds like your average American woman. Well, I’m definitely not your average American or even non-American woman. Most women have kids. Hell, I can’t even sleep with my own husband I’m such a light sleeper, and I can’t even have a normal sex life.

The renters took a Saturday off and didn’t blast off last night. Haven’t heard from Dan either, but I keep the fans on during the late afternoons/early evenings, and all day on weekends.

My ink died so I wrote by hand letters to Paula and mom, Mary and Dave, although I’d already had a few pages printed for Paula. I just wish she’d write back! At least once a month. If she doesn’t work, how can this be asking too much of her? How can it be asking too much even if she did work? I wish she’d write monthly, not just to let me know what’s going on with her, but to let me know she’s alive and getting my letters. How do I know she isn’t dead or in jail/prison and not getting the letters when I don’t hear from her for months at a time? If I don’t hear from her in another month or two, I should probably stop writing till and if I do. I don’t want to be sending letters she may not be getting and have all my time, money and work go to waste.

I finally got Tom to dust and vacuum his office. He even neatened it up a bit, but it won’t last. By the end of the day, the room will be chock full of junk again.

Monday, September 11, 2000

Got another day of freedom where I can just live my life, but come tomorrow, it’ll be time to humiliate myself yet again at the counselor. Not cuz I’m shy or afraid to discuss my troubles, but cuz I feel I’ve been reduced to therapy mostly on account of the blacks and Mexicans, but definitely more by the blacks. We lived together longer, this case is now about them, and they’ve certainly humiliated me much more than the Mexicans. Tom disagrees, but I see having to resort to therapy after all these years as a huge demotion in life. And if I think the last court date was humiliating, wait till next time! Next time is gonna be when the blacks get up and say how horribly I treated them, all the while appearing to be perfectly innocent little angels. I just wish I’d videotaped them and their shit, kept the note, saved the phone messages, etc.! With my shit luck, it wouldn’t have done me any good, though. I’m being compensated for getting off in the past, and I’m sure I’ll also be compensated by the therapist and probation officer. Because Cassandra was so nice, I’m sure Helen won’t be so cool, and because Sheila was cool, I’m sure this cock I gotta deal with will be a major hard-ass. Even Paul said that although most probation officers really do want to work with clients, see them succeed and get them off their caseload, there are a few that are a different story. Yeah, I’ve been in enough funny farms to know all about power-play. There are at least a few power-tripping assholes in every batch of teachers, managers, probation officers, and within any of the more authoritative fields. Well, I’m counting on being stuck with one of those Donna A/Margaret M types.

I don’t expect it’ll do me a damn bit of good, but Tom wrote that character reference letter nevertheless. He wrote it well and I appreciate his doing what he said he was gonna do. Of course, he wouldn’t dare mention that they did stuff to me, too. Much more than I did to them. Again, I don’t think he thinks they really did much wrong. He said something about not wanting it to sound like we hate these people. Well, I certainly hate them, but what he said was fine. He said I was caring, considerate and good with animals. He mentioned how I write to his mom and am seeking counseling for my anger problem. He also wanted to stress that what I did is in the past and not an ongoing thing that stretched into this year.

Neither of us screwed this weekend cuz of all the stress that’s going on. What else is new, huh? It wasn’t just my shit that snuffed our desire, but Tom’s really bumming about Mary having cancer and so am I. It’s just sooo unfortunate and sooo unfair. How do people screw regularly enough to have kids? (those that can have them) Life is one thing after another, so where do they find the time and how do they get horny throughout life’s constant ups and downs? Well, I still get horny and get off even when the shit’s hitting the fan, so maybe it’s just a matter of who we get off with. Unlike when we first met, I can’t get off with him not getting off and not getting all that into it. His fears snuff my desire and I’d just assume to take care of myself. I’m sure he feels the same way but for different reasons. He can’t get off with me cuz he’s too scared I’ll get pregnant. He’d never get off, though, even if I had to have a hysterectomy. To him, getting off after a hysterectomy or menopause would be admitting my beliefs about him were right, so he wouldn’t get off as a cover for the truth, but I can see right through him regardless. Anyway, if I can ever get these freeloaders out of my life for good, it’ll be on to something else. Something that’ll no doubt be an ongoing problem for years, since I rarely have big problems that last just weeks or even months. But you know what? I’ve dealt with these fucking freeloaders being a huge problem for 4 years now, and I’m sick of this shit. Really sick of it! If I gotta be so damn destined for one problem after another, be it long-term or short-term, then I’m ready for a change. A breath of fresh air would be welcomed any time, even if it ain’t so “fresh.”

I could tell by the way I shit this morning that I had been stuck for a couple of days. I practically shit 4 times in a row and was a pound lighter afterward. I guess my metabolism is speeding up over time, cuz I can’t believe all the calories I’m able to get away with lately! Yesterday I had nearly 2000 calories and I thought for sure I’d be 117-118 pounds, but nope. I still need to cut back again to try to lose some more, though. I’ve also increased my workload. Meaning, I’m doing all the exercises every day, rather than some one day and the rest the next. I’m proud of myself for not missing more than 2 days of working out since I began last April. I still have a long way to go, though, and I don’t know if I can go any further, but we’ll see. Like I said, this is right where I got stuck the last time. The only difference is that it’s easier to maintain the 113-115 pounds this time around, whereas the last time, I had to struggle to stay down there cuz my body wanted desperately to get back into the 120s.

Later...

Tom talked to Mary today. She hasn’t seen the oncologist yet, but she has a list of referrals. She’ll probably see someone next week.

I’ve still got mixed emotions about seeing this therapist. What can she tell me that could really help me? If I couldn’t help myself, and if Tom couldn’t help me (although this last round of mail really purged most of the anger in me), then how can this stranger help me? What could she possibly say to me that’d help? Tom says that sometimes it’s the things that are the most obvious that are the answer. The things we least expect. Then he reminded me of how I was the one to solve the computer problem we had, which was something so obvious, yet he’s the one with the expertise.

Although the bulk of my anger towards the people back east has dulled out, and although the same thing would eventually happen with the freeloaders as well, if they’d only get the fuck out of my life and stay out of it (cuz the relief of finally having them out of my life would be so strong that it’d override any other emotion), I don’t know how I’m going to handle future neighbors that piss me off. I just know that I’m not going to deal with them the way I did with the freeloaders. The way I’ll probably handle them will be in the only way I really can without worsening things for myself - by just taking their shit. All one can do with assholes like the freeloaders is just ignore them. 

No, not ignore them. They make that impossible. So, since they can’t be ignored, the best thing to do is nothing. Taking action, legally or not, almost always makes things worse, so I’ll just sit and listen to it the next time I’m near people like that who blast music, party outside for hours at a time, etc.

Another thing that bothers me about seeing a therapist is that it’s just one more thing I gotta do cuz of the freeloaders (I’m sick of doing for the freeloaders!), and while I’m doing this for Tom too, what’s he do for me? Meaning, I quit smoking for the guy, I’m going to therapy for the guy (not that some of this isn’t for me as well), but would he ever go see someone about his not cumming if I asked him to? No, of course not. If it were up to him he’d never discuss it or deal with it. He’s the way he wants to be and I do accept and understand the fact that no one can make people change. The courts can make me see a counselor or a probation officer if they want, but they can’t make me want to or change me in any way. If he’d prefer to make one lame excuse after another about the way he is, and if he’d prefer to stay the way he is – fine, cuz a kid’s the last thing I want to be dealing with anyway, and I still feel the same on that issue as I have for the last few years now. I’m OK with not having a kid. I’m just not that desperate anymore, though I’ll always wonder about it. Nevertheless, I’m looking forward to not having a kid, but I don’t like being controlled by him or God when it comes to my right to choose. It should’ve been my decision to make. The only thing I’m grateful for is that we never had a kid up till now, but if I changed my mind and decided at 40 years old that I wanted a kid again, I should have the right to have one. I didn’t kill anyone. There’s nothing to say I’d treat it like Dureen and Tammy treat their kids, so I should have the freedom of choice.

But I never will. I’m prepared to live my whole life childless, and again, it’s OK. I’d rather be bored than run ragged by a child, and like I said, life’s hard enough as it is. I don’t need to bring a kid into this world to suffer it’s non-stop BS. But I don’t want to hear no bullshit excuses, and I don’t want to be controlled, either.

Tuesday, September 12, 2000

All’s been quiet for the last couple of days; no music or gunning. This is Maricopa, though, so that’s the way it’s supposed to be.

I had the strangest cramps today. Not only are my periods getting erratic beyond description, but so are my cramps. Why can’t my period just start and simply stop like it’s supposed to? Why do I have to spot on and off for weeks at a time? It’s gotten to the point that I’m doing this monthly now. Earlier I felt slight cramps that turned into heavy cramps, out of the blue, at such an odd time of day. I thought the 4 ibuprofen tablets I took were going to be worthless, cuz it seemed to take quite a while to relieve the pain. What was strange was that the cramps came in waves. Usually, you either have them or you don’t. They’re a steady thing. Nonetheless, mine came in waves and seemed to be concentrated more on one side. At first I was surprised I had nothing but spots for all those cramps, but then I got more of a flow. More flow than I’ve had in a couple of months or so.

Wednesday, September 13, 2000

If only I knew how soon Don wanted to see me. Then I could do a rollover if I wanted to, cuz I won’t see the therapist till October 12th (I guess she’s going on vacation), the dentist till October 23rd, and the courts till October 30th. Well, I’ll find out tomorrow when I’m scheduled to call him. I’m sure he’ll want to see me within a week. He’s going to want to see the person behind the voice.

Anyway, I could do a rollover cuz I doubt they’ll be booming for a while. I was wondering why I hadn’t heard them yesterday or the day before. Well, Tom told me two planes hit that were flying from CA. I was like, already?! I didn’t think they’d crash again so soon after starting flying again.

Later...

With the exception of birds and lizards, Desert Winds Ranch continues to be a ghost town. Haven’t seen any p-dogs or snakes.

OK, now for my trip to see Helen S. Unlike Paul, she was what I pictured her to be; a plain-looking, middle-aged woman. She was fairly petite, fortyish, with close-cropped blond hair. Probably the married-with-children type (depending on how far God allowed her to go with that if that’s what she wanted) and she had the nicest, most comfortable therapy office I’d ever been in. All the other therapists had rooms no bigger than closets, with hard-backed or slightly cushioned chairs you find in most waiting rooms.

Later...

God, why is it that as soon as I get busy doing something, I have to shit? I guess it’s better than being stuck. Anyway, I spotted something good along the way – a p-dog! Yeah, it was down by the well. Still none in the usual spot out front.

Anyway, Helen was in this old house in Tempe that reminded me of the old house next to the small Community Care building in Springfield that I’d see Martha in. It wasn’t as old, but it was still weird being in a house like that cuz there just aren’t many houses in Arizona over 50 years old and with two stories. We stayed on the first floor, though. We came into a little entryway and found paperwork waiting to be filled out. God, I am so sick of filling out forms! No one was at the desk. Helen said something about her secretary being away. Anyway, once she got to be 15 minutes late, I decided to give her a total of a half-hour, or I’d walk. She was 20 minutes late and I asked if she was usually that late, cuz no offense, but $25 was a lot for us to be paying for her to be late. She said I’d still get my 50 minutes and no, she wasn’t usually that late. The 50 minutes flew by fast, too.

She led me back to an office with cute little knickknacks and even a bowl of candy. I sat on a plush loveseat while she sat in a regular chair such as what was in the waiting room. Unlike my other therapists, she scribbled down notes the whole time. From the moment we sat down, it all came flying out. Mostly the events of the last few years. I rambled on and on non-stop. She seemed untouched by most of the things I’d told her. Not that she didn’t necessarily care or empathize with me, but like she’s heard it all. That sort of thing. She may not be able to really relate to anything I’ve told her, though. Her life may have been “too good” for that, in a sense, but I’ll get to that later.

Up front I told her that I talk fast and tend to change subjects a lot and that I have ADD, making it hard for me to focus. I also told her I tend to talk a little loud what with my being hard of hearing, and that due to my loudness, I may sound more emotional than I really am at times.

I didn’t get too much into my childhood yet. There was only so much of my life I could cram into 50 minutes. It’ll take several sessions before she knows it all, so to speak, if I see her several more times. I told her about the blacks and Mexicans, the NHA, and mostly about the events that led me to her. I told her I’ve had a problem with anger, too. I just hope she can remember everything we discussed, despite her notes, since it’ll be a month before we meet again unless the courts make me see someone else. If they do, at least they’ll pay for it.

Later...

I was trying to read, but the black bitch won’t let me. Yeah, it’s that time again where she’s eating away at my thoughts and she just won’t get the fuck out of them. This bitch just doesn’t go away! I know she never will, either. I do fine for a while (although it’s been depressing for me having to face up to knowing my life is truly over) and then she pops into my brain like a bad disease and I can’t kick her out and cure my thoughts of her. She’s just not easy to get rid of when you consider how pissed off she makes me. I got to thinking – if she really does work for the courts, and since she’s already abused her authority this much, how much further can she go? How much further will she go? If she’s pals with any of these judges or has any way of influencing them, I’m fucked. Another thing that worries me is having to pay money directly to this bitch that she certainly doesn’t deserve or is owed by me. This bitch owes me. Hundreds of dollars, and maybe even thousands when this is ever over. Tom said they might make me pay her the cost of changing her phone number, if she did, but I doubt she changed it. I’m sure they’ll find some reason to force me to pay her something since I’ve been forced to do everything else concerning this little fuck, but I can’t see paying for her to change her number as one of them. She’d want me to call her so she could get me into as much trouble as possible.

I’m just sick of people telling me what I gotta do. And where I gotta go. It’s just so unfair! Sooo, so unfair. Life is so fucking backward it isn’t funny. God, kill these fucking freeloaders! And do it in a way so I couldn’t possibly be blamed for it, like a fatal car wreck or something, please! If you have any mercy left for me whatsoever, just a tiny inkling of respect – kill them and give me my life back (not that it ever fully belonged to me)!!!

Always with me, always with them.

Friday, September 15, 2000

I still haven’t finished all I discussed with Helen, but that’s simply because I wanted to take a break from the fucking subject. It’s been nothing but black this and Mexican that, just like when I lived with them, and aaarrrggghhh!!! Blacks and Mexicans, courts - I just get sooo fucking sick of them! I started to write earlier, then it was like, enough is enough! I need a time-out from this freeloader shit, even if it’s only for a day or two.

Anyway, back to the freeloaders and the story of my life. It won’t let me do a rollover, despite the fact that no one’s booming and my dentist, therapy and court dates are far enough away because Don could want me to hop on into his office any sec. I just don’t know for sure, but my guess is that I won’t be seeing him for 2-3 weeks, judging by what he told me when I called him yesterday. I can’t take chances, though. I need to be ready, alert and available for whatever may come up, which means I gotta stick to being on days.

I was amazed that I got right through to him on the first try. I called, a woman answered saying, “Pre-sentencing,” I asked for Don, she put me through to his extension, and he picked up. He didn’t sound friendly or like an asshole. He was just there. I have a feeling, though, that things are gonna reverse themselves like they usually do (unless it’s a curse that just won’t quit), and that he’s going to turn out to be a real asshole. I just can’t imagine having two Sheila’s in a row, even if one of them has a dick between their legs. Anyway, he asked me when my sentencing date was, I gave it to him, and he said we still have time, so he’s not worried. Then he told me he still had other cases to go through before he got to mine. He asked whereabouts I lived and that was it till he calls me back. Tom said it could’ve been a test to see if I’d really call. Yeah, I think it was cuz OK – people are incompetent, but even so, I find it hard to believe that the interview lady didn’t know he couldn’t have gotten to my case that fast.

I’ve done major cleaning around here the last couple of days. I just got sick of being bored and wanted to do anything to get these freeloaders off my mind for a while till I’m forced to deal with them again. It needed a good cleaning, too. I gathered up all the dolls and dusted them. I put them all, except for the biggest two, on one of the tables by the mice and took a picture of the crowd, too.

Heard from Dan last night. At least I think I did. There were a couple of times, although it was hard to hear over the fan, where I thought I heard a car stereo. When I looked out towards Meadow Green, I didn’t see anything either time. The first time I checked Dan’s, his place was dimly lit, including the carport, but I didn’t see any movement. The second time it was brightly lit and I saw the taillights of a car leaving his place, suggesting the car with the stereo might’ve visited, but I can’t be sure. What I heard could’ve been a loud, rumbling engine for all I know.

I’m gonna take a break, then I promise to finish up with Helen.

Later...

Just fried up a tortilla, which the rats also love. They weren’t as thrilled with the baked potato skins, though, as I thought they’d be.

I’m kind of bummed about this, cuz I really wanted to get down around 100–105 pounds, but I think it’s time I cut my losses and just settle for being 115 pounds. I just don’t have the willpower to lose any more weight and I’m sick of working so hard. There are worse things in life than being 10-15 pounds overweight, so I think I’ll just move into the maintain status now. I think asking to be 100-105 is as unrealistic as the black bitch was. You’re being unrealistic and setting your expectations too high if you think you can harass people and get away with it without getting some kind of reaction. Well, I’d be just as foolish to think I could lose 10-15 more pounds and keep it off, too.

Since I’ve got all weekend to write about Helen, I’ll start writing my letter to Paula, since it’s obviously going to be a while before I get cartridges.

Saturday, September 16, 2000

Tom had a good idea for the big plastic pipes the well cocks left; to use them as supports for the porches and fill them in with cement. I like the idea. Then maybe for once and for all I can stop having to play Leak and Bucket, although in this case, it’s Leak and Towel. Having rain seep under one of the doors is better than having rain leak through several spots on the ceiling, but enough is enough of the leak curse! Especially with a brand-new house!

I’m glad today’s Saturday so I can have one more day off of sex, and I hope to hell he’s too stressed out (not that I like to see him suffer), or at least not in the mood to screw around tomorrow. I’m really afraid it’ll hurt. I still have irritation down there that just won’t quit. I know I could be the one to make an excuse, but again, despite the fact that he’d be perfectly content to never have sex again, such as I would be, I feel so guilty! I just can’t get over the guilt of saying no to him, but if I could just get over it since I know, logically speaking, I shouldn’t feel guilty, then I could say no more often to his games and to the same old, same old. But for now, when he approaches me for sex with a little grin on his face as early as 1:00, I just don’t have the strength to say, “No. I know you’re up to something, which no doubt is the I-just-can’t-seem-to-get-in-there game, and I’m not in the mood for it.” Again, it totally amuses this guy to see me turned off.

Let me go cook his chili-mac and vanilla pudding, then I’ll write more. I like to cook for him on weekends. Makes me feel more of a wife, so to speak.

Later...

Here’s the status on Mary: she went to the doctor and they’re gonna do more testing to find out how widespread the cancer is. If it’s contained within her throat, they’ll do radiation therapy, but if it’s spread out, they’ll have to resort to chemo, which means the poor girl will have to go bald and puke her guts out. Now why can’t this be happening to a fucker like the black bitch I’m cursed with? Huh? Why does it have to be someone like Mary?

Mary’s pretty disgusted with David right now and I don’t blame her. After doing a disappearing act for quite a while, David and his family visited Ma on Thursday and she told them about Mary’s case while she was at work. Well, they didn’t even have the decency to call her later on. I know having kids robs you of your life, but that’s downright selfish and insensitive! Ma’s gotta do what she’s gotta do, but again, I’d will very little money to Ray, David and Steven (although who knows how helpful/supportive Steven would’ve been if he’d lived locally), and most of it to Mary and Tom. They’re the ones that have done the most and cared the most.

There’s not much more to say about my visit to Helen. Just that she thinks I should’ve pushed my case with the freeloaders the legal way. Yeah, right! By the time that might’ve gotten me anywhere, I knew we’d be long gone.

I didn’t yet get into my dull and sometimes shitty sex life. I just said that Tom’s a wonderful guy with the exception of the fact that he’s a slob and he sucks in bed. She grinned at that one. She also grinned when I mentioned how where there is one Mexican there are 50 when I was explaining just how many freeloading assholes I had to deal with.

When I told her I didn’t think she could help me with my anger after all this time, she said, “There are no magic words I can say to you, but that there’s a time for learning things.” Maybe, but even so, I have my doubts about her until and if I’m proven differently.

She too, believes there’s a reason for everything, and I told her why I believe in curses as well as blessings. One of the things she said really hurt, and that’s that most of her life has been good, in her opinion. Not that I’m not happy for her, but a good 80%–85% of mine has been bad in some way or another, and this only went to prove that yes, I was singled out for a reason. Why else do some people get what they want in life and find more happiness than others? Maybe there is such a thing as reincarnation and I’m due to be compensated in my next life. Maybe my next life will be mostly good, and maybe I’ll be one of the ones to get the career she wants, to get the kid if she wants it, etc. Tom said the problem he has with the reincarnation belief is that there are more people now than there were years ago, so where did all the souls come from? Good question. Maybe they were created when the new people were created. After all, these souls would’ve had to start somewhere, wouldn’t they? But then there’s been times when the population has dropped, so where do all those souls go and how is it determined which ones come back? I don’t know, maybe the souls that don’t return are the ones that get fried in hell. Still, why has God picked on me so much? I know he’s picked on lots of others too, some in worse ways, but let’s just take me, for example. Why? Why has he been so determined to keep me from much happiness and the things I want? Is it a vengeance thing? A compensation thing? Maybe I already did live, and in my last life, things were great most of the time.

Not that they shouldn’t be, but things have been very quiet around here. No pickup banging by, nor have I even seen it go by quietly. No renters, no Danantics. But of course, now that I’ve written this, it’ll all change.

Sunday, September 17, 2000

Paula’s going to be getting 3 envelopes from me. That’s cuz I handwrote what I normally print out for her. She normally gets 6 pages of text. Especially with all that’s been going on. Well, those 6 pages of text turned out to be 27 handwritten notebook pages.

Saw another prairie dog by the well again yesterday. I put some salad out, but I don’t know if they got it.

Just when one fear of mine is eased, pertaining to our infamous freeloaders, another one pops up. Tom pointed out that it’s unlikely that the freeloaders would know any of the judges in the courthouse we’re dealing with, cuz she didn’t even know where to sit. That’s nice, but it’s a certain fetish of God’s that worries me. He has an obvious fetish for having me locked up, confined and stuck in places I don’t want to be in. There were the camps I was forced to go to (even if I got kicked out of them), the beach I was made to sit on every goddamn day of the summer, the hospitals and schools I was confined to, the apartments I was stuck in, etc. So, doesn’t it sound like having me go to jail would be something God would allow to happen? That’s totally something he would do. It fits into my pattern, so to speak, and that’s scary.

If there’s anything I learned about Arizonans, it’s that most of the people out here, unlike most of the people back east, tend to spite themselves to get at others. People have their ups and downs in all parts of the country, but out here they’ll make total fools of themselves to bring others down. That’s why I was surprised that the blacks and Mexicans would turn the mail over to the cops; cuz of all the shit I wrote about them, both true and untrue. On the other hand, if I’d sat down and thought about it, I’d have realized – they wouldn’t care. They were too full of hate and venom to care. All that mattered to them, and all they could think of, was getting at me.

Later...

Right now I’ve got mixed emotions about one of my biggest curses – sex. I’m glad he didn’t want it for the second weekend in a row, cuz you know how sick of it and bored I am by it, but now he says he’s gonna start working out again. Well, not that I expect he’ll stick to it, but if he hasn’t got the energy for sex, where’s he gonna get the energy for working out? And if he was too bummed out to screw cuz of Mary, how can he work out? I just don’t get it. I know that from the get-go this man has been terrified of the thought of impregnating me and I know he has a low appetite, but what am I missing here? Just what is it about me that has this man so turned off? I sense there’s something else besides the two basics. It’s more than a lack of desire and a fear of a kid, but what? What is it? Something I said or did? With me it’s simple – I lack the desire to have sex with him cuz he’s too predictable and it’s boring. Also, his lack of desire to cum snuffs out my desire to cum, and it’s not new and exciting anymore. But with him, I feel there’s something else to it. Something I’ve been missing for the last 7 years. Something not so obvious like his baby fear and his not being big on sex to begin with.

Maybe he didn’t touch me this weekend cuz of how I told him I felt I still had irritation down there. I even had him look at me to check for any signs of redness or anything, although he didn’t see any. He said it was up to me whether or not we did anything this weekend, but then I told him, no, it’s up to you (since when is anything about sex up to me?). He said OK.

Other than that, I saw the pickup go by without any music, I’m watching gymnastics in the Olympics, which is in Sydney Australia, and that’s it. Can’t sleep in tomorrow as long as that black bitch owns me. She owns my life, and therefore, I gotta be up cuz Don’s gonna call any time now.

Monday, September 18, 2000

I’m in the mood to write, but I have nothing to say. Perhaps that’s for the better, though, cuz lately, whenever I do have stuff to say, it isn’t good news.

Guess I’ll get on with my scanning project. I’m still scanning in signs from my signing book, then I’m going to crop them, make wallpaper out of them, and print them out when I get new ink.

Later...

Liar. He’s such a liar and I’m sick of it. He’s working out with energy he’s not supposed to have. In reality, he’s got enough energy for sex every day. So it’s not energy he’s lacking, it’s desire. But why can’t he just admit it? I did.

Anyway, UPS scared the shit out of me today. They knocked on the side door and my heart started booming so loud and so fast. I thought it was going to jump right out of my chest. I ran to the living room and looked out the front windows. At first, I saw nothing. Then I saw a UPS truck heading out. We got a letter saying we’re behind on our house payments. Yeah, I suppose I can thank a certain freeloader for that. Anyway, he said that that’s why we’re getting the loan. It went through, but we haven’t received the check yet. After I thought about it, I realized that the cops wouldn’t have knocked on that door. At least the ones that were here didn’t. Their door of choice was the front door to knock on.

I finished scanning all my signs. I changed my mind about printing them out. If I wanted them printed out, I’d have left my sign language book intact. The idea was to convert to an electronic version.

Tuesday, September 19, 2000

Tom just went to bed. For the rest of the night, I’ll be reading, listening to music, maybe singing softly, and watching the women’s gymnastics that I’m taping. Although tonight’s games run for 5 hours, you barely get an hour of gymnastics. That’s because they have other events too, along with commercials and interviews with the Olympians.

I’m a bit stressed and depressed right now, but what else is new, huh? If it ain’t one thing, it’s another. I still can’t believe I was ever thrown in jail and forced to go to court for this shit with the blacks, regardless of whether or not she and her cronies did shit to us to deserve it. I mean, it just seems so petty! What a waste of time and money going after me for this. Never once in my mail to her, or to the Mexicans for that matter, did I ever directly threaten them. So she got some mail she didn’t like – big deal! We all get mail/letters we don’t like; should we all go running to the cops about them? This world is so damn sensitive and spiteful! All she had to do was not read it, throw it out, and forget it. Same goes for Bill and Tammy. No one made them read my mail and listen to my calls. If they didn’t want to hear from me, all they had to do was erase my messages without listening to them, and if they didn’t like what I had to say in my letters, they shouldn’t have read them. They should’ve and could’ve just ditched them and moved on.

Although I don’t vibe it as strongly as I did for a while, I still fear going to jail. Not just because of God’s “lock-up” pattern, but cuz the state wouldn’t mind spending the money. They waste money all the time.

If these assholes had been white, would the law have come down on me like it did? Somehow, I doubt it. Like I said, times have changed. You could kill an off-brand in the past and get away with it, no questions asked, but today, if you so much as dare to even look at one wrong, you’ll get lynched for it. Just like all the rights used to go to the whites in the past, all the rights now go to the minorities. Everyone’s quick to believe the word of minorities before the word of whites.

Tom said that he hopes Helen can brighten my outlook on my future. That’s a laugh. If she could do that, then we could’ve done that ourselves by now, but why bother? My future’s my future no matter how I look at it. It’s etched in stone, a done deal, destined to be what it’ll be. I realize more than ever that I’m never going to be fully happy and content with life. The next 35 years will be 85% bad, just like the last 35 years (almost) have been 85% bad. I’m not going to repeat past mistakes again by tricking myself into believing I have a destiny other than the one that’s meant to play out. No, I can’t have a career or a family should I decide I want one, and that’s that. There’s no sense in getting me to think I could have/do things I wanted to, just to be let down and disappointed by reality in the end. This is my destiny. I’m living it right now. I’m going to court for the people who victimized me, I’m cleaning the house, doing my usual hobbies, etc. That’s my life. Period.

At least my life is much better than it used to be and I don’t have as many problems/worries as I used to. I may not be able to pick and choose a career or have a kid, but at least I’ve got my freedom (I hope) that I’ll always be able to keep and hang onto because of not having a kid. At least I’ve got Tom. That’s the most important thing right there, even if we don’t turn each other on (sex really is such a small, insignificant part of a relationship) I don’t have to deal with things alone in an apartment in the city, and I do have some things to look forward to, too. It’ll take time, but I know I’ll get more dolls someday, go to Vegas, play miniature golf, etc. There’s still some life left out there to be lived by me.

I had a hard time getting up when the alarm went off at 9:00 today, cuz I had trouble falling asleep last night, so I decided – fuck it, I’m doing a rollover. I need a break from this little blackie and to take back my life and to have a little teeny bit of control over it, if only for a little while.

I hope to hell I get a chance to express myself in court. After these freeloaders lie about me, I want to be able to tell the truth about them and let the courts know, even though it won’t do me any good, that these people are perpetrators too, and that I’m a victim as well, and let them know why. I feel that keeping quiet about them would not only make me feel like I lacked self-respect, but it’d make me feel like I was covering for these people, and I sure as hell don’t want to protect these assholes from the truth, even if I don’t have the evidence to do them in for their wrongdoings. They’ll never do a day’s time for what they did to me and they’ll never pay a dime for it either, but by God, I’ve got a right to tell my story too, and to let the judge know just what we’re dealing with here!

In my next letter to Paula, which I hope won’t be handwritten, I expressed my concerns to her about the bad vibes I’ve had pertaining to Justin. I didn’t tell her that part of it was logic, having nothing to do with being psychic, cuz of the kind of mother she is. I knew all along this was coming, but it’s getting closer – him being in trouble with the law. We’re talking big stuff, too. I have drug/robbery vibes, but not like I do with assault, rape, and possibly even murder. I didn’t want to scare her, but I felt it my duty as her friend to warn her.

Wednesday, September 20, 2000

Tom’s home now. God, I got pissed at him this morning! I felt both insulted and hurt. I still feel that he’s defending those freeloaders and that he’s on their side by the way he’s gotten on my ass for my part in all this and with the way he’s stressed how much he wants me to work out my anger problem with Helen. I feel he feels they did nothing wrong, even though he’s admitted they were noisy and rude. I’ll bet the bitch’s boy toy never says some of the things Tom says to me. Does that cock say he wants her to see a therapist when she rants and raves about me? I’ll bet he doesn’t. Does that cock tell her to “move on” when she bitches about me? I’ll bet not.

It started when I came stumbling out of the bedroom just when he got up. I expressed to him that I was a bit stressed and frustrated cuz the black bitch was eating at my brain like she does on and off, and then he starts in with how he hopes Helen can help me to control my emotions, etc. What an insulting thing to say! As if my emotions aren’t normal with all that’s been going on? I’m being dragged through the mud by the very people who perpetrated me. Of course, I’m going to be somewhat emotional at times. I’m sick of people implying there’s something wrong with me when I show emotion. Can’t someone get stressed out and angry at those who wrong us? I didn’t hit him or harm myself.

Then he insults me further by saying I should move on. Move on? And how can I do that? How can I do that when I have to go and face these fuckers again in court, make weekly calls to Sharon, deal with probation officers, and God knows what else? That is not moving on. When the day comes that I don’t have to do something solely because of them, then I can move on and begin the healing process of what they’ve done to me and put me through, but not until then. And the thing of it is, is that I’ve told him this before when he’s told me to move on. If he’d listened to me he’d know why that’s just not possible while I’m still under this bitch’s thumb. That bitch practically owns me.

I’m just sick of being made to feel like I’m screwed up while he’s perfect. I reminded him that he’s got problems too, yet I don’t suggest he go run to Helen to find out why he blames me for his not cumming and says I’m pressuring him when the real reason has to do with his own fears. I don’t suggest he go run to Helen when he gets moody/frustrated by things I think are the most ridiculous things to get moody/frustrated over. I’ve accepted that unlike me, he doesn’t want to get help for his problems and he never will. Meanwhile, I’ve accepted him as he is, even if some of his ways affect my day-to-day life, so why can’t he accept me? Just because I express myself in a more aggressive manner than he does, and just because I’m not afraid to show/express my emotions, doesn’t mean he’s any better than I am. He’s more content with life and with his ways than I am about life and with my ways, but I’m me and he’s him. Period.

Also, his saying I need help “controlling” my emotions is contrary to what he’s said in the past. In the past, he’s told me not to try to control my emotions and to just let them be whatever they’re going to be. Anyway, although he denies this, he obviously has just as hard of a time with hearing me vent my anger and frustration as I do with having to feel these emotions, so I think it’d be best to bitch about life and the people in it to Helen only. And in my journals, of course. It’s Helen’s job to sit and listen to people bitch, so I might as well get our money’s worth and let her do what she gets paid to do.

This whole freeloader thing has gotten so out of hand and so blown out of proportion. People are either forgetting or just not willing, to see the big picture. The big picture is – they victimized and harassed me. And like I said before, nobody forced that bitch or the people back east to read my mail. All I did was send this bitch mail, not kill her. I never once directly threatened her or her associates in my mail, either. We all get letters and mail we don’t like from time to time. So? Big deal! If you get letters/mail you don’t like – throw them out. If you get messages you don’t want to hear – erase them and move on. But this spiteful, sensitive-in-the-wrong-kind-of-way bitch couldn’t move on, and therefore, I cannot move on. I just can’t believe the big stink people will make out of such petty bullshit! If we all ran to the cops/courts about mail we don’t exactly like or want, the bulk of us would virtually live at the police station and courthouse. You mean, there are actually people out there who can’t handle a few phone calls and a letter or two? I can see it freaking out a woman who got mail/calls from a violent ex or something like that, but good, God! I’d hate to see them try to have to deal with the shit the freeloaders put me through and all kinds of other shit I’ve had to endure during my life. I’ve often thought I was weaker than most people. Maybe not. Maybe they’re the ones that are actually weaker and maybe I’m a little tougher than I’ve given myself credit for.

Later...

Although I was up 18 hours yesterday, I only slept 7. I felt rested enough when I got up at 1:00, though. It’s nice to take a break from the pressures of the alarm. I can’t take weekends off like Tom and most people can from alarms, cuz it fucks my schedule up and makes it hard for me to back it up to where I’m going to bed earlier and able to get up earlier, too.

I’m quite proud of myself for doing hundreds of ab crunches a day. However, and sadly enough, I don’t have anything to show for it. My stomach looks almost exactly like it did months ago. Tom suggested that if I want to change my appearance quicker and shed some more fat to expose my muscle that is definitely there under all this fat, I should cut out my refined sugar intake. For the most part, the only thing I have containing processed sugar is what’s in my coffee, but I don’t have just one cup a day, either; more like 4-6 cups. I have a cup of regular when I get up, then decaf throughout the rest of the day. Perhaps he’s got a good point. A lot of these athletes who work out like I do, although much more extensively, do not allow themselves sugar. It’s not so much how much you eat as it is what you eat. As long as I work out regularly, I don’t have to be stingy with my calorie intake and that’s all well and good, but I still have a layer of flab that jiggles and that I shouldn’t have. Not for as fit and as solid as I am otherwise, and not after paying over a thousand dollars for this exercise equipment. Tom thinks I look thin and fit, but I disagree. I don’t look huge and horrible, but I don’t look like I have any muscle, either. It’s too hidden. If I can shed the fat that’s covering it, then I’ll look thin and fit. When I look at my upper arms, for example, as they hang limply by my sides, I see no muscle tone whatsoever. When I feel the thing, though, that’s a different story. Then I can feel the muscle definition. I can flex the muscles in the shoulder area and see those, but for a home gym like Bowflex, I should be able to see the muscles I’ve got just by standing relaxed. I shouldn’t have to flex them through fat. So, since tea is pretty boring, I’m gonna switch to coffee that you brew and use sugar-free creamers and artificial sweeteners like Sweet-n-Low.

Tom saw his mom, who was stressing out over Mary, which is understandable. Mary’s got an appointment tomorrow. I laughed when Tom said Mary said she’d feel embarrassed that people got all worried for nothing if it turned out not to be a big deal. Better to be embarrassed for nothing than to find out you’re either going to die or you’ve got a rough road ahead of you. She’s a wonderful person; I think she’s got a rough road ahead of her, but will probably be allowed to live.

Don’t know how long Oreo and Butter Rum are gonna live, though. Oreo’s throat tumor is nearly as big as her head, although she doesn’t appear to be in any pain or unable to get around. I just noticed Butter Rum’s tumor on her side yesterday. To say mice and tumors go hand in hand is quite an understatement!

Later...

They got me again. Yeah, the old folks, sister, brother, and the whole sick clan just popped into my mind and I’m having an awfully hard time shooing them out. They’re like cockroaches that just don’t quit! Instead of unpleasant and unwanted thoughts/memories of them bringing anger like they used to, they bring anxiety. Like remembering a car accident or something like that would. I’m just glad I ditched them from my life when I did. No, I wish I’d done it sooner, but better late than never. I can’t believe no one’s been killed yet, and I still firmly believe that as soon as Art or Doe goes, there’ll be major violence at the funeral if not murder, and I’m just sooo glad I won’t be there! Larry, Tammy or Ronnie will go at each other in some way. I just know it, and I’m just so glad I won’t have to be in the middle of it, cuz I’m no little girl anymore. If Ronnie, who’s no match for me, came at me, I know I could never restrain myself from clobbering him. Since around the time I came to Phoenix, I know I wouldn’t have any self-control if anyone were to threaten or come at me. I’m just too bold now to cower down, win or lose. I’ll stand my ground at any cost and not allow myself to be bullied like I have been in the past. It scares me to think – just what would I have done if Larry, Bill, and others were within arm’s reach when I was burning with rage at them? Would I have killed them or beaten them so bad that they would’ve wished to hell I did?

Anyway, it sure would be nice if Helen, or anyone, could give me total amnesia when it came to these people! How I wish to hell I could delete them from my memory!!! I’d do it in a heartbeat. What a depressing thought, though, to know that I’ll have to live with the horrible memories connected to the people back east, plus the blacks and Mexicans, for the rest of my life. They can pop into my head and visit anytime they like and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. I guess it’s better that they can intrude upon my thoughts, rather than in my life (even if some of them are still very much a part of my life), but it’s tough enough as it is. Them butting into my thoughts is intruding upon my life.

Thursday, September 21, 2000

Tom just went to bed and I’m recording the individual gymnastics competition.

Shortly after he got in, a knock came at the side door again. My heart started booming almost as bad as UPS had it going. After a couple of knocks on the side door, I saw a uniformed black guy go to the front door and knock there. I thought it was a Palm Harbor rep, and they seemed pretty desperate, so I finally agreed to open the door. His shirt said, “school maintenance” and he said he was looking for a house with a boy who has to walk over 2 miles to a bus stop, and he said they’re looking for a better route for him. He asked Tom how to get to a certain address, but he had no clue any more than I did as to its whereabouts. Why would you go knocking on doors asking for better directions when you can look at a map?

We read together, and Tom sketched an outline of the land, house, and things we plan to build and add to the place. We talked about putting a camera outside so we can see what wildlife and any vehicles that may approach the house. I like the idea (the kind of surveillance camera a bank would use). Also, although it’s very unlikely anyone would want to go out of their way to bust in here, the camera should be a good deterrent to anyone with common sense.

Tom says there’s a cat in the neighborhood. It might live next door, but we’re not sure.

I’m gonna be sending Paula a little Christmas present. I decided I’d send her one of the 2001 calendars I made up that I don’t think came out all that good, although I’d think she’d like it, and a copy of my story. I got an extra copy since Ma was able to make out the smaller print copy. I’ll keep the large print copy I got and send Paula another smaller print copy.

I was saying earlier how people make such big deals out of such little things – well, they made a big fuss about how amazing it was that one of the Olympic swimmers was deaf. You mean you gotta hear yourself swishing through the water to be able to swim? Oh, please!

Another thing that made me just want to reach through the TV and slap some heads, was the silver medal gymnast winners. They cried and got all miserable and depressed over getting the silver and not the gold, and I’m like, it’s just a piece of metal for Christ’s sake! Even if they didn’t get gold, silver or bronze, if I had half their body fitness/muscle/measurements, and half their skills, I’d be on cloud 9. Talk about being greedy and getting bent out of shape for nothing!

Well, I’m gonna go get the oven cleaning. I do it at night when it’s a bit cooler. It’s so cool; just turning a knob and having the oven clean itself without my having to do any scrubbing at all.

Later...

All the all-around medalists were Romanians. They’re the ones that won the gold in the team competition, too. I was glad to see the ones that stripped their silver medals off in disgust during the team competition not get anything for the individual meet, cuz they’re just too spoiled. Selfish little bitches. If you can’t appreciate silver, you don’t deserve shit.

What I saw during a news report only serves as a reminder of how unfair life is. Funny how someone can get away with beating someone up, while I go down for sending non-threatening mail to someone who made my life a living hell for years. I wish I was a black guy! Yeah, a black lady got kicked out of the Olympics for drugs, and cheating – something they love to do, and she and her fiancé were at the airport preparing to leave. Meanwhile, a cameraman films them, the fiancé flips, beats the snot of the cameraman, then gets away with it. The cameraman had to go to the hospital, and this is something that was filmed. You could hear the whole thing, including all the threats, and see most of the action, yet all the cops did was talk to the assholes. No arrests at all were made. Some world we live in. I tell you, it’s a great time to be a minority in this world, and it’s always a great time to be a guy. Wish I could paint myself black and put a dick between my legs on court day!

Friday, September 22, 2000

Got new ink cartridges, and again the black is smudgy. Black, purple, red, and pink text is a bit smeared, but blue and green text is OK. Even so, I managed to print out decent-looking 2001 calendars. What is it with this brand, though? Is it just me that’s getting the defects? I’m sure it is, cuz certainly they couldn’t all be this way, or else they’d be out of business by now. Why is it I always have to be the one to get the defects? Does something up there feel I’m such a defect myself that defective things are a perfect match for me? Damn! Defect this, defect that. Another tire blew, too. It was fixed for free, but must we suffer so much more breakage and hassles than usual?

Got a Social Security statement in the mail showing my barely existent work history. It was kind of neat to see, nonetheless.

Woke up at 112 pounds. I suppose that’s why I can’t shit today, huh? I’ll be back to 115, I’m sure. At least I don’t have to be so stingy with my calories anymore, and can very easily maintain where I’m at as long as I stick to the exercise like I have been consistently doing so for nearly 6 months now. Even so, I’ll only treat myself to the wonderful caramel-flavored cappuccino they make now only once a month. Maybe even less often than that.

For calendars, I printed out Ma’s Christmas calendar, and pictures for calendars we plan to have around the house, but I didn’t do the calendar part of it yet. That’s because Tom’s going to go online to get me a holiday list. I told him I don’t need to know Jewish ones or meaningless ones like Flag Day. I just want the ones that he won’t work on.

Saturday, September 23, 2000

She got me. Yeah, but this time it wasn’t the black bitch. It was Doe. Once again, how wonderful it is to know I never have to see my parents again or ever be abused by them again, but what a shame it is to know I have to live with the memories. Memories that pop into my head spontaneously. It doesn’t matter what mood I’m in, where I am, what I’m doing; they can come to mind any time, any day, any place. And believe me, the memories are almost as detrimental to my mental health as the actual events were. They really cause a lot of stress, anxiety, sadness, and sometimes, still a bit of anger, too. How one can hurt over something that happened nearly 25 years ago? Telling myself it’s done and over with, I can’t change the past, move on, don’t think about it, it can’t happen again isn’t always so easy. No one could easily forget that their own mother would’ve left them to die if circumstances had been just a little bit different.

I was forcefully remembering the time I starved myself for a few days at the beach. I had no liquids either. Hey, I was only around 10, so I didn’t know any better about the importance of water. On the third day of no food/liquids, I couldn’t lift my head off the pillow when I awoke. I probably wrote about this before, but anyway, she didn’t feel the least bit sorry for me. Her exact words to me, and I remember them as if she’d said them just yesterday, were, “You did it, you correct it.” 

That’s some mother I had, huh? Yeah, I did a stupid thing, but what do you expect from a kid so young? Utter perfection? If it weren’t for that bedroom being right off the kitchen, and if it weren’t for the cabinets containing food being about 5’ away, I’d be dead for sure. I remember how strenuous it was to get up, grab that Devil Dog out of the cabinet, then hop back into bed. I pretty much fell back into bed. Anyway, I could ever so barely muster up the strength to do this, and I remember it took 10 minutes to slow my heart down and gather enough strength just to eat the damn thing. I think – tell me I wouldn’t have died if the food had been further away or even on another floor. Tell me my own mother wouldn’t have let me die – but she would have. She just didn’t care. Perhaps I did the wrong thing by saving myself. Maybe I should’ve let myself die instead of fighting for my life that day while she played backgammon in the next room with her gal pal Charlotte, determined to have a good time and not let her virtually dying daughter ruin her day. Maybe I should’ve let go and given up, sparing myself many years of emotional and physical grief, and maybe teaching this pitiful excuse of a mother a lesson. Maybe it would’ve served her right if I’d died when I jumped instead of breaking my arm. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Later...

Another hour will mark the date we moved exactly one year ago. I never would’ve believed it in a million years if someone had told me the freeloaders would still be a problem, either!

I feel both rejected and relieved by Tom’s not hitting me for sex after all this time. Maybe I don’t turn him off, but I sure feel like I don’t turn him on, either. I feel like the last time I really turned him on was when we first met. It’s that way for me, too. I know most of his turnoff stems from his baby fears and his stubbornness to admit this to me. I still think something’s wrong with me, but it doesn’t matter cuz a woman doesn’t have to be sterile for a kid to be not meant to be. I just wish he could see this! Even if he opts to never cum again, I wish he could see that there’s no way I could conceive anyway, and if there ever was the slightest chance that I could, he’s made sure that that’ll never happen.

Regardless of who’s afraid of what and of what’s destined, I wish I’d started things off right! I wish I’d let him screw me from the get-go and not been like I was; having to go slow. I wish I’d been on birth control. Maybe that would’ve saved us from a lot of BS; if I had gone by the fact that most guys don’t want kids, and by the fact that I’ve known pretty much all my life that that wasn’t meant to be anyway, and had gotten on birth control or gotten myself permanently fixed.

Sometimes I wonder – did this man, who’s so wonderful and so close to perfect 95% of the time, trick me into marriage by telling me he’d cum regularly and that he wasn’t afraid to have a kid? Did he, and is he still, assuming I’d just throw my life away on account of his cumless dick and fears to just sit home all my life and clean the house? Did he assume I’d give up and lose the desire to pursue my dreams? Well, I definitely lost the desire, and I’d definitely rather be bored here at home with him than worse off all alone somewhere else. If I’m right about any of this, though – how dare he take me for granted like that, assume so much, and risk losing me while doing it! I may not want a kid like I used to, but the point’s still the same – he’s always lied, strung me along, and made such lame excuses about it, and I wish to hell he’d come clean. If he hasn’t yet, he obviously never will level with me honestly about his not cumming, unless he intends to wait till after menopause. Nonetheless, he should’ve leveled with me up front. I had a right to know the truth from the start. Not figure it out for myself in time by watching his actions. If he had had a genuine physical problem or came out and bluntly admitted to not wanting a kid, that would’ve been OK. I’d still have loved him enough to marry him. And whether or not he continues to bullshit me, I’m with him for life either way, but it’d still be nice to hear the truth. Knowing the truth and seeing the truth is one thing, but having it admitted to you is another. I don’t expect I’ll ever get an admission from him like I should have up front, but better a late one than to never receive one at all.

Do I want him to hit on me tomorrow, Sunday, our usual sex day? Yes and no. If he’s reading my journals he’d know I might be ovulating at this time (if I really do) so that may either scare him off or scare him into playing games, which he also finds quite amusing. You know, the one where he “forgets” how to fuck me, or is just too soft altogether. Sometimes he never gets hard, other times he deflates right before he’s about to enter me. Then again, I might’ve mentioned bleeding a couple of weeks ago, and so he wouldn’t necessarily need to read this with his great memory. And he has an easier time, like most of us, remembering the things that are most important to him, too. Anyway, I want him to hit on me so I don’t have to feel like some abnormal freak (something I feel enough of already), and I don’t want to feel like a turnoff, but he turns me off as well, just for different reasons. So, I don’t want him to hit on me, cuz I can’t get aroused because of his predictability and because of his not getting all that into it. It’s hard to get off by someone who doesn’t get off by you, and God only knows I managed to do so for the first year or two. I’m not saying I’d necessarily get off regularly if we suddenly had spontaneous sex where I never knew what to expect in bed from him, and where there was a 50/50 chance of his cumming, but I might more often.

Tom may find me more of a turnoff than any other woman he’s been with, due to how bad I wanted a kid at first and cuz of my aggressiveness, but I don’t think he’s ever been a very sexual person to begin with. He’s just not big on sex and is even sort of prudish. The guy wanted me to shut the blinds in the bedroom one time, and I was like – oh, please! How the hell are people going to see in a house with no lights on, in the daytime, from a few hundred feet away? If it weren’t for his low drive and prudishness, I might wonder if he was cheating. They say that if you’re not getting it from your mate, you’re getting it elsewhere, but this usually applies to those with an appetite.

Sunday, September 24, 2000

And now it’s been exactly one year since we left Freeloaderville! God, how did my life come to be such a mess despite having such a quieter area and nicer house?! Well, anything’s better than living with Doe and Art or Brattleboro or Valleyhead or Oswego Street, the NHA, PHX, etc.

I decided to highlight all my entry dates in yellow. It shows up the best, even on paper. On paper, all the other colors are much darker than they appear on screen, making the text hard to read.

All our calendars are made up, except for the date grids. This is because I’m waiting for Tom to get me that holiday list. He said he couldn’t get online most of the day cuz our wonderfully competent phone company just had to go play with the lines again, and the phone was out all day. Anyway, for our 4 calendars, which will go in each of our offices, plus the kitchen area, plus the guest room, I’ve used a wide variety of pics. Pet pics, scenery, wildlife, flowers, etc.

Believe it or not, I’ve added a little bit of floor work to my workout routine. I still think floor work alone can only get you so far unless you’re old, weak and feeble, or some 200-pound mama, but it helps, in addition to the Bowflex exercises. I’m only doing my lower body, though. It’s just something extra to do to give extra help to those more problem areas.

Houdini was so cute earlier. I made us a tortilla treat, and he jumped up in my lap as soon as I sat down on the floor, trying desperately to grab a piece before I could get the chance to tear him off a piece and hand it to him. Just like the last time I did a rollover, he’s adapted his schedule to mine. Guess that rat likes me a lot! Ratsy was having trouble breathing and was making these funny noises. Tom said he doubts he has much longer to go, but every time I think that he surprises me with living on and on. He’s a toughie!

Daytime weather’s still hot, but evenings and mornings have become pleasant, even chilly. I won’t need any AC for the rest of the night until the sun comes up. Another week or two, and we’ll be turning the AC off and using heat at night.

Later...

What the fuck is going on? Just what the fuck is this? I was sitting there when all of a sudden I felt wet down there. Well, it turns out I’ve got my period, yet I just had one, although it was half-assed, a couple of weeks ago. This is more than just spots too, although I don’t expect it’ll last long. I expect it’ll drop to spots and that I’ll spot for a week or two till I get another half-assed flow. Just like last time, it started instantly, in the middle of my day. The only thing that’s different this time around is that I have no cramps, whereas the last time I had tons of cramps for so little bleeding. Usually, periods start in your sleep. What is this? Wacky hormones? Menopause setting in early? Something else?

There is some good news. I hit down at 111 pounds! And coincidentally, I recently had a vibe of hitting down at 109 pounds. Finally! I thought I’d never quit bouncing between 112-115 and my not having any vibes or dreams about losing more weight for seemingly so long, was rather discouraging. Anyway, my metabolism’s really speeded up. I’ve been consuming 1500-2000 calories a day lately. I’m starting to feel more and more like my old self like when I was in my 20s. The one who could eat whatever she wanted without worrying about it, although she certainly eats less junk nowadays. The one whose body spit out and rejected calories, for the most part, rather than gladly taking them in to store them as fat. I’m almost a new woman, too! My coffee with sugar in it is almost gone. I’ll be a sugar-free woman in no time!

Despite my lack of desire for my limp-dicked husband, I kind of couldn’t help feeling somewhat bummed and humiliated by his apparent lack of interest in me as I paraded around him naked. He’s had plenty of opportunities too, day after day, but he just doesn’t want me. Does he not want me, or does he not want sex, though? Guess I’ll never know. I may still have a fat face, neck and ass, and I may still be a bit thick-waisted with hips still a little too wide, but I could be worse. I know I don’t look great; certainly not like I did when we first met (although he tells me I’m beautiful), but I’m not an ugly blimp, either.

It got all the way down to the low 60s yesterday before dawn, and I don’t expect we’ll need the AC for the rest of the night. It’s not even 9:00 and it’s already dropped to 77 degrees out there.

Monday, September 25, 2000

Wow, it’s only just after midnight and it’s already down to 64 degrees out there. For the first time this year, I can really feel winter starting to set in. Thank God! It’s still hot in the daytime, and I still don’t miss the bitter cold of New England, but after having 8-9 months of nothing but intense heat, it’s nice for a change. I don’t mind a couple of months of a little shiver after sweating my ass off for so many damn months!

It’s been days now since I’ve seen Ratsy climb up to the tube. How sad it is seeing him get so old and feeble. Still making funny noises, too.

Later...

We decided to get rid of the Internet. Why pay for something we can’t use since all they do is crash us or not let us online? Besides, the extra money wouldn’t hurt. We still don’t know how much more these freeloaders are going to cost us. It’s one thing for me to go down on account of those who harassed me for years, but another to do it while we’re broke!

I didn’t run heat last night, but if it had gotten a few degrees cooler I would have. Remember, temperatures feel cooler than they do in the east out here. 80 degrees is miserably hot in New England, but here, 80 degrees is quite comfy with how dry it is. So, when it got down to 74 degrees in here early in the morning, it felt like it was in the 50s.

Although I slept from around 8:00–5:30, I was still tired when I got up. I guess it’s because I’ve been waking up constantly throughout my sleep. Hopefully, if the freeloaders will ever let me go, I’ll sleep better. But until this shit is over and until I find out how much more I gotta pay for something I should never have had to pay for in the beginning, I’m pretty stressed out. Anyway, I ended up lying down this evening. Tom said I was out cold for nearly two hours, but I thought I had barely dozed off and that it had only been for about 45 minutes. Nerves have a way of really beating one down!

As I figured would be the case by today, that little gush I had last night is gone. I’ve tapered down to just a few spots here and there. At least that much is predictable. So now I’ll have to deal with the expense and hassle of wearing a liner till I get another half-assed flow in a week or two.

Tuesday, September 26, 2000

Maybe not that predictable. I actually have a light flow and would count this as being a period.

I also had a vibe saying I’ll need a full hysterectomy when I’m between 36-37. This fits. I mean, it’s something God would do, but why in my mid-30s and not when I was 20? Obviously, he wanted me to feel teased by his not cumming, even though I knew deep down since I was a little girl that I’d never have a kid. How do I feel about having a hysterectomy? Well, again, I don’t like my decisions being made for me, and I don’t like having more and more options and doors slammed shut on me, but decision-making is also hard for me because I’m not used to it. So, it’s one less decision I have to make (having invitro) cuz I’m just so undecided, and I have been for the last few years. Meaning, I’m not dead set against a kid, and I’m not dead set for one, either. I feel that if I never try for invitro, I’ll wish I did, and if I do, I’ll wish I didn’t. So, one less tough choice to make. Also, a hysterectomy would end Tom’s fears, but that doesn’t mean he’d start cumming. He’s not going to do anything that’d admit I was right about him being scared. Periods are a bitch, so that’s a plus there; not having to deal with them. So, knowing I’m not fated to have a kid, knowing I don’t want one bad enough like I used to – I’ll take a hysterectomy if that’s what I’m in for. As long as I don’t have any serious suffering to do along the way – sure, why not? I don’t mind cutting out on periods a decade or so early.

I cut out on Ratsy’s wheel. He no longer uses it to wheel with. He’s just too weak. He only uses it to sit on, and he got his foot caught between the rungs again for the fifth time. So I chained it up high in the cage, out of his reach, for Houdini to sit in, but he seldom wheels. He prefers getting his exercise by running around loose.

I forgot to mention that the renters were hammering at midnight last night. Yeah, that’s an Arizonan for you. I was lying in bed reading when I heard it, but just for 5 seconds. I can’t imagine what the fuck they’d be hammering at that hour, and Dan’s place was too dark to be the one doing it. I figured it was the renters, cuz when I looked out back at midnight the front light was on. An hour later it was off.

I printed out all the calendars for Mary, Dave, mom, and the ones for us, grids and all. This is because the phone’s so fucked up he can’t download the holiday list I wanted. If he manages to, though, I’ll just write them in on the calendar we’ll keep in the kitchen by hand.

Wednesday, September 27, 2000

We are getting the big screen TV, after all! I didn’t get up till 7:30, and I guess Tom had just gone to bed, cuz he left me a note saying he spoke to Mary. Cool! I think I’ll take the entertainment center in my office, cuz it’s just not suitable for the mice. Especially when I want to have more cages set up.

I both dread and look forward to tomorrow. I’m looking forward to it because I want to find out what’s going on with Mary, but I dread it, knowing it’s not going to be good news.

I’m not only back to 115 pounds, but to 116! What the fuck did I do to gain more than 5 pounds back, and so fast? I was stuck, but now that I’m not, and now that I took a water pill, perhaps I’ll drop back down, but why the fuck can’t I just fucking lose 15 more pounds and keep it off?! I’m sick of this yo-yo rut I’ve been in!

Thursday, September 28, 2000

Got my weight back down to 115 pounds. Guess I got a bit watery, but I should also cut my calories for a while. Yes, my metabolism’s faster, but I shouldn’t be doing 1500-2000 calories for too many days in a row.

The incompetent fucks at the phone company have really been fucking with our service. It’s hit or miss as to whether or not the phone will be dead when we go to make calls or leave messages. I told Tom he should just live with it, knowing how poorly people take to complaints, but he got fed up and called them. They say it’ll be fixed by tomorrow, but that’s what they’ve said a million times before. I know each time he calls and bitches that our service is going to get worse. Meanwhile, instead of leaving messages, since I know he may not be able to retrieve them, I’ve been typing them. Especially if I’ve got more to say than can fit on the memo board. The things I usually tell him are trivial stuff, like about the rats, etc.

Not only am I still finding tons of those annoying black bugs, but I also found a big, creepy spider earlier. Hope we can bomb soon.

Mom needed around 50 stitches the other day after she scraped her leg with the car door. That’s one sharp car door! She said Mary and Dave were out talking about whatever right before they were getting ready to head out. This is when Ma started to get into the car and cut herself. They rushed her to urgent care. Now all we have to do is hope it’ll heal quickly enough without getting infected. They gave her antibiotics.

When Tom went to see her yesterday, she gave him a bag with lots of material for me. Most of it’s dull, but what do you expect from an old lady? Bright shiny colors? I’m still happy to have it, though.

Another Ashton-Drake catalog came yesterday, and since there are too many dolls I want, I reevaluated the ‘stuff to buy’ list and narrowed it down to just 6 non-doll things I want to get, excluding household stuff like awnings, pressure tanks, etc. Besides the fire Indian, since we don’t know what she looks like yet, I want a Latina, an Indian, and a bride.

I knocked off the retreat table from the list. Unless I really get into sewing, which I can’t picture, we don’t need a table other than what’s already in there for that room. I almost knocked off the water lamp, but I did knock off the bedroom mural. The more I thought about it, the more I think it’ll look funny in there and throw the balance off there. Especially with the way that room’s laid out. An open room like the living room, though, will look great muraled. I knocked off the mattress pad, cuz they probably don’t make any built-in ones as soft as I like anyway. We’ll just stick to pads. Besides sewing stuff and clothes, I only want the living room mural, a CD changer, a tree for the dining corner, new towels, exercise gloves, and a water lamp.

I’d still like the doll kit and maybe some plastic dust covers which they sell. I can get 5 covers for the cheapies for $20. I don’t need their record book. I keep records electronically. After having time to think about the dolls I see in a catalog, some wear off me, some grow on me, and some keep their first impressions. I still want Marisa first (Hispanic), then Star Dancer (Indian), then a bride (white) called With This Ring, as in with this ring I thee wed…

Knocking some of the things off the list will save money. Also, by the time I get these 3 dolls, there’ll be 10 more I want, so wanting 6 non-doll things is better than 10.

Here’s an idea: If I get $35 for my birthday unless it’s needed for bills, groceries, or some kind of necessity, I’ll combine it with whatever pennies are left over from Tom’s electric razor loot, and get the living room mural! That’ll knock it down to just 5 non-doll things, and then I can maybe get 1 of the 3 dolls I want for Christmas! It always goes without saying, though, that the necessities come first.

Later...

Tom said that he warned the phone company that we weren’t about to pay for anything we couldn’t use. Therefore, we’ll just go cellular if we have to. Anyway, they’re supposed to come out to work outside the house today. Tom said I can just ignore them if they knock, cuz they don’t need to come in. No prob. At least I shouldn’t have to worry about them waking me up. I was up over 18 hours yesterday and slept till nearly midnight, so I shouldn’t be needing to go to bed till late afternoon. If we do drop the main phone, I’ll give Paula the cell number.

Star Dancer’s a nice doll, but I think I’ll put her on hold and go after Marisa and the bride first.

Dave’s mom is coming to visit from New York in October, so Tom’s mom may actually stay with us for a week or two, believe it or not.

Forgot to mention that Ratsy was out yesterday morning. I couldn’t believe it! He didn’t run around like he used to, though. It was still quite an unexpected and pleasant surprise for the old, arthritic guy!

Friday, September 29, 2000

Boy, this rat is full of surprises! Ratsy, I mean. Yesterday he was panting and seemed to be so weak like Scuttles did before he died. He looks like he lost some weight, too. However, when I got up at 4:30, he was upstairs! How’d this weak old thing manage to climb up to that tube?!

The phone company never did need to come out to the house to fix the phone. It’s working again. At least, for now it is.

Good news about Mary: it looks like the cancer is contained to her throat, so all they’re going to need to do (hopefully!) is just radiation therapy. Also, Dave’s mom will be in around October 16th, so that’s when Ma will stay here unless she changes her mind. She’ll be here a week or two, I guess.

It’s just about October 1st, my weight deadline. Since it’s been over 2 months since there have been any significant changes in my weight, and since I’m still yo-yo-ing between 112-116, I’m going to have to write off losing any more weight as the impossible dream it is, like it or not, and just hang onto what I’ve got.

Speaking of dreams, why do Doe and Art have to casually butt into my dreams so often? Ugh! I get so sick of them popping into my dreams whenever the fuck they feel like it. They intrude upon my dreams as if nothing ever happened. We all live together in most of the dreams. Last night I was washing our laundry like I would as a teenager. We had those crappy stackables like we had in Phoenix. They nearly overflowed, and the dryer only ran if I held the button down. When they came in from being out somewhere, I mentioned my frustrations about it to Art. Doe seemed to be in her own little world. I said I was sick of having to depend on something that didn’t work half the time and would do laundry by hand. Art said he could fix it and I was like, fine, but put up a clothesline so I can hang dry clothes when the dryer conks out.

Once the sun comes up I turn the AC off and turn the fan on continuous run, then I opened most of the windows to let the fresh air in. Once the sun really starts rising, I shut the east side windows. I have the retreat, bedroom and kitchen windows open now, and it is beautiful! It’s dead quiet too, the way a remote country area should be. It’s been quiet and it’s hard to believe that for a while there, I was hearing music nearly every day. I couldn’t get any peace in Phoenix with the windows shut, so it’s nice to be able to open them and not have those fucking freeloaders screaming, bouncing balls, and blaring music right outside the windows. I can’t fully feel the wonders of not having those sick fucks just a few feet away, though, cuz they are still a part of my life. It sort of dampens the mood, knowing that although I can’t see or hear them this doesn’t mean I’m free of them. I’ll never be free of them. I remember how shocked and disbelieving I was when the blacks moved. Meaning, I just didn’t feel like it was over. Well, obviously it was far from over.

I don’t usually watch talk shows these days, but I was doing things to keep myself awake to push my schedule around faster, and what I saw on Oprah was really scary. It’s sooo damn easy to get the most innocent people convicted of all kinds of things. All you have to do is swear they did whatever. This segment was on capital punishment and innocent people who spent years on death row before they finally were set free. I’m still for capital punishment, though. Better to fry 9 guilty people and 1 innocent person than to let just 1 guilty person go free. What’s scary is how many incompetent lawyers there are out there, how you can get convicted with no physical evidence tying you to the crime, and worst of all, just by someone’s word for it, and it’s usually not the word of a reliable witness, either. I’d be going down for these blacks even if my prints hadn’t been on the mail, and even if I’d had someone else make the call from a pay phone or something. All the bitch has to do is say I did it. What do I do when they fuck with someone that reacts differently than I did? What do I do when someone kills one of them and they point the finger at me? Even if I had an airtight alibi, which would be hard to do when you’re home all the time, the cops would still insist I had something to do with it and so would they. Well, I just hope that when they push the wrong person too far and when that person snaps and harms them, they know who it is and that they finger that person and that person only. I also hope I’ll be somewhere like Helen’s or the dentist’s so I’ll have an alibi when it happens. Assholes like them may live long, healthy lives, but at the same time, they’re living on the edge. Especially the blacks.

Saturday, September 30, 2000

Tom got me a list of holidays throughout 2004, so I made a holiday file so I can have them available to add to calendars when I make them up.

I forgot to add a wheel mouse to my list of non-doll stuff. I may have that mural today! Tom told me yesterday we could look for one at the hardware store we’re going to this morning, but I have a feeling they won’t carry them. It’d be just my shit luck, too. Especially when he’ll have plenty of time to put it up since he’s gonna be taking time off during the time mom stays with us. We’re gonna head out of here around 9:00 and go to the hardware store first. Then we’ll go to Mary’s, help load the TV into the truck, and then head back here. I got the space in my office clear for the entertainment center. They’re also giving Tom a metal file cabinet which he’ll keep outside for his tools.

[katarh-mest]

ADHD Things: First day of Vyanse.

Everyone says to take notes on how it's making me feel. Might as well Tumblr live blog it.

Long and super detailed so under a cut.

Took 40mg at 6:45 AM. Made coffee but went back to sleep because I didn't have to be "at work" (I work from home) until 8AM.

Got back up at 7:15 am because I couldn't get back to sleep. Figured I'd play some XIV on an alt. Made coffee.

7:45 AM - ran back and got dressed, played with the cat.

8:00 AM: Put together my coffee. I had a fresh quarter of milk. I only drink milk with my coffee, so what I generally do is freeze two thirds of it in two additional two cup containers so it doesn't go bad before I finish it. This is normally a task I would put off for some stupid fucking reason but I just.... did it? So that was cool.

9:00 AM: Got some work stuff done. Appetite: ravenous (this is the opposite of what I was told would happen) so made myself eat some fiber cereal for breakfast.

9:45 AM actually answered a client phone call instead of praying someone else would grab it! I still panicked though.

Actually got up when the FitBit "you haven't moved enough" alarm went off at 9:50

Saw dirt and just cleaned it. Instead of thinking, "I should clean that sometime." Unfortunately this led to the "roomba stuck under the couch" and I continued cleaning even though I'm supposed to be working.

Second client call at 10:06 AM. Same client called back that I talked to before. Talked them through where the table was in the database where they needed to blast off a setting on every single product in their system. (Basic SQL, I didn't need to write the script for them to do it.)

10:15 AM. Still ravenous. So much for "this medicine might make you forget to eat." Eating some yogurt.

Resting heart rate has jumped up to 95 bpm.

All our clients were forced to upgrade versions over the weekend and there is mass panic and chaos on schools who updated without preparing correctly.

I'm just.... looking at my ADHD piles, sighing, and taking care of them. This is good from a tidying perspective, but not so good because I am supposed to be working at the computer. But at least I finally put away the giant mess of paperwork from my the inheritance debacle last December and January. (Disabled sister inherited money and we had to establish a Special Needs Trust so she wouldn't get kicked off her much needed government assistance.)

10:56 AM I, uh, sat down and filled out the pretty planner I have.

11:44 AM Hungry again. Ate surimi and baby vegetables. I'm executing tasks on demand, but I'm not happy about it? I'm just doing them. It's easy, but I'm not excited. Maybe that's a good thing. The task itself has become an emotionless process. No dread at having to do it, but also no relief at it being done. Task switching is also easier. Honestly, having this post open is great for preventing me from wasting time on Tumblr instead of working, I guess.

12:20 PM Did my DuoLingo. Having anxiety attack breathing. Made myself do breathing exercises. Felt better. Ate a cookie.

12:30 PM Spinning my wheels because I don't want to go back to work yet. Made myself go anyway. An hour later, work is miraculously done.

1:30 PM - Nauseous. Drinking ginger ale. Work meeting, ugh.

2:30 - hour into work meeting, nausea faded into hunger again. made myself a ham and cheese roll up. I have been keeping my sanity into this work meeting by playing Pokémon go during the more boring bits. thank goodness for no webcam on my main desktop.....

3:15 - Work meeting devolved into a troubleshooting session over the issue we fan into last Friday.

4:15 - Our lead developer is a miracle worker. He pinned down the ephemeral bug that was haunting us like an invasive beetle to a bug board. And wrote a query to fix the issue in production while we wait for a hotfix for release.

4:30 - Made dinner. Somehow during the 2 hour work meeting I had the foresight to pull out the shrimp to warm up a bit. Made all the difference.

5:00 - I swear all the people who say they have no appetite on this stuff are built different. I'm chowing down on a salad like I haven't even in 2.5 days, not just 2.5 hours.

5:30 - Email bombshell from a client. I didn't panic! I did resent the interruption of my planned post workday walk.

5:45 - Say fuck it and go walking anyway. The email can wait.

6:15 PM - Come back and write the reply. Fuck that client.

6:20 Very thirsty. I should make some tea when the room mate vacates the kitchen.

6:30 - Time to goof off in XIV before anime

7:00 PM - shoujo night weeee!

8:45 Log back into XIV for the Caff Dad MSQ stream (I'm a groupie)

9:30 - It's all FFXIV from this point on so no point in continuing this.

11PM bed

[cardriocanine]

Our schedule and things I have to remind myself of

2/21/25

Sometimes, like this morning, I feel I am not working hard enough on his puppy training. It seems like I should be doing more to ensure he knows his commands, and I should be doing more to ensure he's following them. But then, then I remember that I've had him for one month. That's it. One month and three days to be exact. I'm not failing him or me... I'm just being silly.

He has a schedule that he's doing well with. We wake up whenever my body says so... usually around 4:30 to 5ish. I go to the restroom and get dressed while he sits patiently in his crate (which is next to my side of the bed). We go outside for a wee, and then back into the bedroom to prepare breakfast. We'll either use the bowl (which he's not overly excited about, his Snoop ball, or hand-feed. Before he starts eating, though, he wants cuddles. I don't force it; I fill his dish and then I sit on the ground. He comes over and flops into my lap for scritches. After about 10 minutes of that, he goes after the food. Once done, he'll drink some water, and then about 10 minutes after he's done eating and drinking, we go out for a poo.

That usually puts us around 5:45 to 6 AM. We'll play in the game room until it's time to leave for school (daycare). We've been practicing getting into the car on his own for the past week, but we're still not fully there yet. We're to the point where he'll put his paws on the seat and kinda try, but he doesn't have confidence in it yet. I have special treats I use to coax him, and today I even tried a frozie (one of his homemade frozen PB/Yogurt treats), but we're not progressing very far yet.

Then it's a 6-minute drive to school, getting him there around 6:30.

I pick him back up around 6:30 in the evening. Sometimes he's full of energy, sometimes he's worn out from playing all day with his friends. We work on getting into the car again, drive the 6 minutes home, and go immediately out for a wee.

We go inside and head to the meal room for dinner. Sometimes it's the bowl, sometimes it's the Snoop.

After dinner, it's out again, then into the playroom for some training and playtime (usually more playtime than training because of the cat, if we're being honest). Out again and then grab a Frozie for his pawsicle ball. Once that's done, he gets his chew treat until 8ish. At that time, he'll go to Place (his cot), and fall asleep. I wake him at 9 for the last bathroom break of the evening, and then "Go to bed" in his crate. He's good until we start it back over in the morning.

Typing this out, I see where my opportunities lie; I need to use mealtime for training a bit better than I'm doing now, and I need to ensure fewer distractions (from Kiki) while doing so.

I'm going to work on a new schedule. Now I'm just brain-dumping, and if you have any thoughts or suggestions, please feel free to drop me a line. I'm very open to outside considerations!

Proposed Schedule (Weekdays):

5 AM: Wake, go out for a wee

5:15: Upstairs and fill treat pouch with breakfast (1.5 cups), off to the playroom

5:15 - 6: Cuddles and Training Sit Lay Down Sit Up Touch Place Shake Focus

6:00 - 6:10: Work on "Up" getting into the car

Drop off at School

6:30 PM: Pick up from school

6:15: Potty Break

6:20: Training with dinner in the meal room Sit Lay Down Sit Up Touch Shake Focus

6:45: Potty Break

6:50 - 7:30: Frozie and Playtime

7:30 - 8: Chew time

8 - 9: Place naptime

9: Bedtime

This looks more structured (and not just because I used bullets lol), and something I can absolutely do.

The only catch is that next week, he'll be boarded for most of the week while I recover from surgery. I can give the daycare his list of commands to work on during that time, but it'll be on their schedule, not mine. Maybe I start this scheduling after he comes home?

IDK, we'll see how tonight goes I guess, and play it by ear from there.

In the meantime, he's a picture of my goober for puptax! This is how he sleeps for his PM naptime