#home with pool in sacramento

[poolcoversinc]

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[thehingstagram]

(via 5 Easy Ways to Get Your Backyard Pool Ready for Summer)

[dabisbratz]

KISS ME THRU THE PHONE — eren jeager x male reader

w.c: ~4.2k

WARNING: dirty talk (a lot of it), degradation, dumbification, camboy!reader, twitch streamer!eren, nerd!eren, parasocial relationships, crossdressing(? reader wears bikini lingerie), amab reader, use of the words ‘pussy’ and ‘cunt’ as synonyms for (ass)hole, fingering, phone/cyber sex, praise, butt plugs, dildos, mutual masturbation

“Fuck,” Eren’s voice crackles loud in your headphones, staticky and grainy as you wriggle the wire until his voice is clear again. It pops in your ears, but you don’t mind, because the next thing you hear is the melodical chime of Eren’s maniacal laughter. He’s streaming a playthrough, about three hours in, and stuck on a certain mission. You can’t help it, his voice is smooth and comforting, like a blanket fresh out the dryer… Even as he yells. It’s easy to imagine how he sounds above you, glasses discarded and his silver chain dangling over your face as you blink away tears. “Fuck! Fuck you! I had it!”

His eyes are a striking type of blue-green; set ablaze by his PC screen and sparkling with shades that remain nameless to this day. His glossy, rosy, lips curl into a frustrated sneer.

It’s not your fault, you ration, failing to wipe away the lewd thoughts somersaulting in your brain. It’s not your fault, the tightening of your pants as you wriggle in bed, laptop illuminating in the dark room. It’s not your fault, the twitch of your dick when Eren’s grainy lips let out an unimpressed grunt. It’s not your fault, the way you’re quick to squeeze the base of your cock in an attempt to satiate the need bubbling in your stomach.

There’s just something different about Eren, something that makes your body tingly and needy.

Okay, maybe it’s your fault.

You inhale sharply, fisting the soft material of your blankets until you glance at the time, digital numbers ticking in the right-hand corner of your laptop screen. Fuck was right, you had your own stream to do and you were running late, too busy focused on the pretty boy reading his chat messages. Heat prickles your neck, the realization of your erection standing strong and determined at mention of the man. You quickly rip the headphones free from your ears, ready to close the tab with an exasperated sigh. At least you didn’t have to pretend to be riled up.

Before you leave, though, you donate a generous amount, giggling to yourself when the streamer pauses to read it aloud, thanking you for the money.

Truthfully, being a camboy was hard work. You had to pick out cute outfits, keep up a cheery voice to satisfy whoever was watching, and… think of something to get you going on the spot. There’s only one thing— one man — occupying your state of mind, making your stomach drop and fill with rocks during normal, mundane tasks.

That stupid, stupid streamer. He’s ruining your career!

Him and his brown tufts of hair that swirl around his head like a makeshift halo, messy and unkempt as if he’d just rolled out of bed to interact with his viewers. His hair that melts like chocolate, warm as it cascades down his cheeks and rests just above his shoulders.

You wish you could see him up close, study the curve of his lips as they pull into a mischievous smirk, watch the way his emerald irises turn into bottomless pools of rich, deep sacramento. With gangly limbs and unruly hair, fingers tousled between chestnut bundles as he groans in reaction to your terrible joke, responding with the energy only an animation could portray.

You wonder what he’s like at home, just as Eren. The nerd, the nobody, the offline ‘soulmate’ to many— his chat was living, breathing evidence. Is he just as funny? Does his voice crack when he speaks, or does he make that up too? You stare into your reflection, pulling at the skin of your cheeks in an attempt to free yourself from his digital grasp. The distorted image of Eren stares back at you, castleton eyes wide and prominent, twinkling at you like he wants to reel you in. You try to ignore it, the tugging feeling in your chest that mocks you endlessly. At the end of the day, you’re just a fan.

Shit, you’re late.

You can’t help but pout, jutting out your bottom lip, shiny and plump as you rearrange your tripod in the direction of your bed. Flopping back onto the pillowy mattress with a quiet ‘humph!’, you shimmy out of your clothes to retrieve new, cuter ones, settling for striped (blue and white) panties that were much too small for practicality and a thinly veiled, matching bikini.

The straps are silky against your skin, hugging your shoulders until the fabric dips between the middle of your chest, divided and exposed, with a cute, white bow barely bigger than the pad of your thumb to hold it together.

You look pretty. Angelic, even.

‘AngelzConnect: bunnyboo is live..! Tap in 2 spread ur wingz!’

Eren squints his eyes, vision darting to the notification on his phone. He’s almost four hours into his own stream, and honestly… He could use some time to himself. His skin ends up flushed, a blotchy shade of pink that clashes with the rest of his face.

“Look, guys,” He starts, tired fingers already maneuvering his mouse to click the “end livestream” button. His tone falls flat, thick with fatigue as chat flies by, understanding the tone almost instantly. “It’s getting late… I gotta go!”

“Hi, guys!”

You wave to the camera, apples of your cheeks fattening as you smile, bright and warm. Enough to supply an entire solar system. Your boyish face relaxes, softening as you lean forward to read the influx of messages sprinting across the screen of your old laptop. The catchlights make your eyes look wobbly, bright and doe-eyed as you respond to a few questions, readjusting your spot in bed out of a nervous habit.

You look so sweet in your revealing outfit, arms flexing as you make hand gestures while you speak. Eren wonders how you keep your hands so soft, clearly flawless and callous-free.

With his PC screen large and high quality, he can take in your every detail. An excited tremor racks Eren’s body, forcing blood flow straight to his groin. The upward angle makes shadows meet to frame you perfectly, a realistic display of standing above someone while they sit at your knees. The curve of your face, the slope of Adam's apple, the dips and bends of your silhouette as you shuffle in bed, shy.

He can see an array of pillows behind you, soft and plush as they’re propped up against your headboard. You also have an arrangement of toys places biggest to smallest, beside you. They’re just as cute as you, decorated and sparkly in the camera. His heart stutters in his chest, loud in his ears as he audibly gulps.

“How was your day?” You speak like it’s natural, as if you’re talking to every viewer personally. Like you genuinely mean it. Like you’re talking to Eren himself. He sighs, heavy and hot as he shuffles to pull his cock out the confines of his black sweatpants.

Your thumbs loop around the white spaghetti straps of the bikini until the fabric stretches and snaps, landing against the soft skin of your chest. Your whine is breathy, barely audible as you push yourself back, sure to get the rest of your body in frame. You can’t exactly imagine how you look right now, spreading your thighs as you sit on your knees, staring into a camera with pleading eyes. But you feel good about it, fluttering your lashes as your computer chimes with donations.

You’ve hit your first goal, which earns an excitable laugh that Eren can’t help but coo at. Your eyes curve and crinkle, a sweet smile that’s all teeth and glossy lips. He watches you reach for the glass dildo beside you, moderately sized and gleaming under the soft ring-light that traces your body off camera.

He watches you trace its edges with your fingertips, pretty eyes scanning the chat as users tell you (in great detail) what they’d like you to do with it. Call him parasocial if you must, but it makes Eren’s blood boil. His fit doesn’t last long, because the next thing he knows, you’re suckling on the glass, pink tongue circling what would be the head of a cock had it not been fake.

Eren doesn’t miss a beat, spitting a thick glob of spit into his palm to start at his head, inching his hand further and further down until he’s palming his balls. He’d like to imagine the dildo is his dick, thick and veiny as he pushes it into the aching insides of your throat, feeling it contract and convulsive around him. Oh, fuck.

“In n’ outta that fuckin’ throat… let me use it…” He groans, just a low whisper to himself as he watches your eyes glaze over with tears. “Fuuuck, let me use it while you sit there n’ take it for me.���

You sputter around it, loud and pathetic as your eyebrows knit together. It’s obvious you’re trying to deepthroat it first try, your tongue rolled out of your mouth as drool slides down your chin and into your lap. Your skin is slick and wet, shining in the camera.

“Damn,” Eren gasps, the sound caught and strangled in his throat as he spits down on his cock again, imagining it as your drool. There’s something charming about it, the way you gag and choke, just to blink harshly and try all over again. “Bet you crave it.”

“Gonna be my good boy..?” Eyes glued to the screen, Eren watches you turn to the side, showing off just how deep you can take the makeshift dick. It bulges in your throat, the pretty area stretched out and swollen with the more cock it takes. Your eyes flutter shut, handsome face relaxing as you concentrate on burying it to the hilt, back arched. “Knew you could do it. Mmh, good b—oy.”

He sighs, shaky and tilting into a desperate whine. His heart is stuck in his ears, beating loud as he pumps his cock with more vigor, pressing his thumb into the underside of the pink head, massaging the beading precum into his shaft.

You’ve moved to expose your lower half, slowly inching the striped underwear until you’ve exposed your winking hole to the camera, pretty cock dangling just below frame. Even after all this streaming, you still never got ahold of the framework. Cute. But you’re not empty, whining as you press a cute, bunny-tailed, glass plug into your hole, whimpering loud enough to have Eren’s cock leaping.

His climax is approaching embarrassingly fast, but Eren feels the urge to hold on gripping the base of his cock so he can direct his attention to the ‘donate’ button. He wants to save his cum for you, keep himself pent up so he’ll have plenty to shoot deep inside you.

Your dick weeps, a thin trail of precum connecting itself to the panties around your thighs, and the bashful look you gift to the camera has Eren re-entering his credit card information ten times over.

“Oh my God!” You shriek, voice shrill and surprised as you stumble over your own limbs, tears and drool still running down your face. “Holy… Thank you! Wait, hold on—”

There’s visible embarrassment on your face, eyes wide and mannerisms frantic as you click around, apologizing under your breath. You can barely read the chat, viewers either complaining about being unable to top the donation or claiming it’s a scam.

“Is this.. Are you real, jeagerbomb?” Your eyes scan the donation over and over, pretty and still hazy from your earlier display. The username ticks in the back of your head like a clock, continuous and gnawing as you try to shake the thought. The thought of Eren— your Eren, watching your streams. “I can’t accept this!”

‘im real.’ Eren types, one handed. It’d be awfully embarrassing if he’d just paid to video chat with you for no reason— your acknowledgment almost has him blowing his load over your pixelated face.

‘and you will.’

Your jaw goes slack, lips forming a wide ‘o’ in response to the question. He’d paid the maximum amount, bought a private session with you. Paid to be your ‘Daddy’ for the night.

You’re much more shy one-on-one. It’s the first thing Eren notices. Your demeanor has completely changed, a little less confident and saccharine, much more shy and hesitant. Still, you look like the perfect pornstar, the cutest display of a boy who’d be plastered under a sketchy hentai site. He supposes your coyness adds to it, your shaky hands nervously playing with the strap of your underwear.

Stained with a wet patch of precum that has yet to dry, and he watches you cuddle a pillow, big and distorted as you hug it to your chest. You’re shifting your weight, sinking into the mattress and looking a lot more vulnerable than he expected. Still, you nervously laugh, a small giggle of a thing that has Eren’s lungs filling with water.

Before you’d started to chat, Eren made sure to fix his hair and straighten out his sorry excuse of facial hair. He’d even kept his contacts in, hair tied back so none of his hair could obstruct his vision. He wants to burn

“Hi, jeagerbomb,” Hearing it come from your lips never gets old, and Eren finds himself once again squeezing the base of his cock. He’s glad you have yet to see below his belt, your eyes squinting into crescents as you take in his familiar background and steady the curve of his lips. His camera cuts just above his top lip, but you can still see the memorabilia in his room. Dedicated to Marvel comics and anime characters, it’s charming, a shelf holding up figurines from some of your fondest videogames. “Is there something else I should… Call you? Or.. Or is Daddy okay?”

Butterflies flutter in your stomach. He reminds you so much of Eren, and the username certainly isn’t helping.

His frame looks comforting, a large t-shirt draping his body as he lifts his hips, careful not to expose himself. As he lifts himself up with his forearms you notice the veins in his arms, snaking up his wrists and disappearing into his large, skinny hands. He has a few tattoos littered across his knuckles, a cursive ‘Carla’ cascading up his ring-finger. Just below the area that disappears beneath the shadow of his dark t-shirt’s sleeve, there’s a bird tattoo, flapping its wings oddly and fitting for the stranger. Funny, your favorite streamer has that, too.

Wait. . .

“Eren,” He breathes, and your world crumbles. “I’m Eren.”

His voice tilts, breathy and hitched. You’ve dreamed of moments like this, of hearing his voice in your ears while he spreads your legs, sinking deep inside your velvety walls with the click of his hips. It’s nothing compared to the real thing.

“Eren,” You purr, sweet and gentle as you smile at him through the camera. “Thank you for the donation, Eren.”

It’s only a matter of time before lust catches up to you, grabbing you by the throat as you watch Eren’s pretty hands in motion. Every noise he makes is audible, the small pants and sighs when you say his name, the ruffle of fabric when he has to grip his cock to stop himself from cumming early. It was innocent at first, a sweet talk that had the two of you bouncing back witty quips and flirtatious glances.

There’s a bite to your lip, heat flaring in your tummy as you open the chat box.

‘You look pretty.’ Was he too nervous to say it aloud?

“Thank you!” Your grin spreads, body lighting up from the praise.

“My bad, I’ve never…” His mouth opens and closes, like a fish out of water, as he scrambles to rearrange his words. He is not a pent up virgin. You’re so used to hearing him yell, his natural speaking voice sounds much more relaxed.

“I’ve never done this before. I jerk off to you all the time, just never, you know… With you.”

You nod, clear as day on his large screen as you shyly trace stars on the exposed skin of your thigh. Eren looks like he regrets telling you that, hands curled up into fists before releasing, again and again. But you can feel the tension, thick and palpable even through computer screens. So you swallow down your nervousness, your fear of embarrassing yourself in front of your favorite streamer, and wave away his stubborn outlook.

“We can guide each other! Mhm?”

“Wanna give you sweet kisses… all around your hole… run my tongue down it…my…warm, fuck, wet tongue…” Guide you, he does, and you can’t take it, a moan flowing from your mouth as your fingers melt into your sopping entrance, lube spilling onto your thighs as you work it inside, slippery and wet. “Bet you taste perfect.”

Eren’s rambling to himself now, legs spread wide and in-frame as he twists his fist around his fat cock and spits down onto it.

“Bet my boy’s hole tastes so fuckin’ good.” He reiterates. Shaking his head, unsteady groans float into the air as he watches you finger yourself, hole opening and closing over the digits like it’s too shy to fully present itself. Your eyes are heavy, legs kicked up into the air as you keep yourself as open as possible, holding onto the back of your knees so Eren can clearly see inside of you.

“Please, mhmm, Rennie...” You whimper, and Eren swears he blacks out. You’re not entirely sure what you’re begging for. It’s the implication because you being his. His boy. His to fuck, his to use, his to hold. So, what is it? His presence? His dick? His hands? His cum? Whatever it is, he wants more. And he wants to give it to you, fast and deep and ruthless.

There’s something about your eyes, the way they stay in contact with Eren’s cock as he gently squeezes his balls and bucks up into the air with increasing desperation.

“Yeah, look up at me while I spit on my cock,” Hes breathless, lowering his face into frame and gathering saliva in his mouth. This spit should be yours.“You like that? Such a good boy for me.. so pretty.”

You nod profusely, though he’s not sure if it’s because you like the nicknames or if you’re answering his question. But it’s good enough for him, watching your head bob eagerly as you fuck yourself on your fingers, lube occasionally squelching and shooting straight into the camera.

“That’s it, pretend like you’re fucking my cock.” His pupils are blown wide, lips parted as he watches you scramble for the dildo beside you, patting your hand against the arrangement of toys until you’ve found the one you like. The glitter is green, this time, and the toy has a slight curve to it. It’s thick, too, and he can’t wait to see it splitting your pretty hole open.

“Re— Rennie, can I.. Want you here.” He watches your fingers slip out, slick and sticky as you spread yourself open. Your gooey hole throbs against your fingertips, achy and needy as you struggle to see past your balls. You press a small tap to your gaping entrance, puffy and empty as you whine and beg for something to fill it back up. “Want you in here.”

“Yeah, pretty boy, you have permission,” He twists your words back to you, punching you right in the gut as your eyes roll back and your brain short circuits. You have his permission. “Get my cock wet for me.”

His cock. You’re quick to nod, squirting more lube onto the toy with something a little more pitiful than grace. A little more desperate. But Eren doesn’t seem to mind, instead lifting the hem of his shirt to pin the fabric down with his chin, dick fully exposed and pulsing on camera. He’s waiting.

“Ohh, ‘Ren,” You mewl, your rim expanding around the glass toy as it slides inside, pushing past the band of your puffy hole and sliding obscenely from the lube. Your eyes burn with unshed tears, wrists working to push it deeper and deeper, aiming for that spot that’ll have you seeing stars. “You’re… inside…”

“Keep takin’ it for me. That’s it, let your brain go empty,” He groans, swiftly reaching to the side to grab a toy for himself. Under different circumstances you’d laugh at the implication of Eren streaming to a huge audience with a fleshlight just beside him and out of frame, but this time it makes you moan. “Don’t have to think, just go dumb on this cock.”

You admit it. It feels better to think with your dick, tears spilling from your eyes as you fuck yourself like a whore, whimpering and moaning around the glass. It should be Eren, warm and wet and real. You should be able to feel him pulsate inside you, burying himself against your prostate until you’re babbling on his dick, holding onto him for dear life while he desperately ruts into you

“Feel how hard I am inside of you? Feels so fuckin’ good, pretty baby. Just hold on.”

You look pathetic, spread open with drool painting your face as you moan on his cock, quickly timing your thrusts with each rapid stroke of your cock, loud and messy and so fucking greedy.

“Pound that hole for me… There you go.. You look so good like this.” Eren can’t wait to shoot his load, watch the thick ropes shoot around his fist and hopefully onto your face, he can’t wait to hear you thank him for his cum. It’s all for you, after all.

You’ve always made the prettiest noises, high in your throat and whiny. Your voice comes out in tiny squeaks, barely comprehensible as you gurgle on your own drool and keep your cheeks spread. Jesus wept, he wished he could hold you open with his own hands.

“Stro— Stroke that cock with that pretty fuckin’ hole.”

Eren can feel himself getting closer, the sight of your eyes rolled back and blank while you fuck yourself into oblivion, helpless and frenzied. You can’t look at him, not when your brain is derailed and hijacked by the thickness of Eren’s dick.

“F—aster? Oh, fuck, go dumb on my cock.” The brunette’s voice cracks, cute and high as he struggles to keep his eyes open, thighs trembling and burning. “Keep moaning for me, keep pounding that pussy, s’all your little whore brain can tell you to do, huh? You got it.”

“Uh huh, uh— Rennie! M’gonna cum, wanna cum on your cock! Ican’tIcan’tIcan’t!”

“Gonna take care of you, gonna make you feel good.” His fist and just as sloppy as your hole, arm tensed up and tight as he cums with a gasp. Thick, milky ropes of cum spurt from his cock, dribbling down the crown and painting itself on his PC screen. “Just keep listening to that cunt, s’telling you to keep pounding, don’t stop.”

“I can’t.” You sniffle, overstimulated and sensitive as the glass cock shifts inside you. Your voice comes out wet and staticky, but despite the shakes of your head, you’re grabbing the toy again, and slowly pushing back in and out.

“I know, baby,” Eren’s voice comes out soft and quiet, barely audible as he tugs his cock tantalizingly slow. You can see him growing softer in his hand, so he must be riding the wave of an afterglow. “Not gonna hurt you, just milk my cock for me.”

It’s weird. You’re fully capable of pulling yourself free from the searing hot grasp of overstimulation, you could easily pull the toy out and end it there. But you feel the desire to please, the need to listen to Eren’s calm voice as he catches his breath.

So you listen, rocking your hips back and forth with tiny moans that clash perfectly with Eren’s labored breaths, until you’re both soft and melting into your collective seats.

“See? So fuckin’ perfect..” Eren grins with a breathless laugh, the clarity of what he’s just done hitting him like a pickup truck. Heavy shades of pink dust his cheeks, pooling at his ears as he averts his intense gaze.

You look cute even like this, fucked out with a head full of cotton as you aimlessly wipe your face with the backs of your hand. Your underwear is haphazardly pulled back up to your hips, and there’s an obvious cum stain on the matching top. You don’t seem to mind all that much, a sleepy murmur erupting from your throat as you try your best to direct your attention to Eren, who you expected to be gone.

“ ‘Ren?” You ask, reverting back to that sweet shyness from earlier. Your handsome face contorts into something of uncertainty, but he’s not sure what you have to be nervous about.

“Yeah?”

“Could we.. Stay ‘nd videochat ‘til my laptop dies?” There’s a beat of silence, no longer than twenty seconds, but it has backtracking apologies ready to spill over.

“Yeah,” There’s a giddy glint in his eyes, bright and familiar— like he’d just received a successful hype-train. That’s the Eren you recognize, all smirks and knowing eyes. “Y’know, I stream sometimes too. We should collab sometime.”

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Thanks to Curieously for this wonderful 1928 pink house in Sacramento, California. The owner spent 3 yrs. restoring it and I'm so impressed, b/c the interior is actually pink, too. 4bds, 5.5ba, $2.795M.

It's a very soft, peachy pink blended with a sponge technique, so it's not a strong, overpowering, solid sheet of color.

The tiles and plaster walls give it a California hacienda look.

In the living room are beautiful beams and a fireplace with contrasting tiles in green & gold.

The family room has a TV area and a game table in the corner.

3 doors in the dining room open to the garden.

The kitchen's a large square space and has the typically tiled counters that hacienda style has. The stove is professional quality and is set into a wonderful niche that simulates an old cooking fireplace.

Alongside the kitchen there's a smaller dining area for everyday. A door opens to a patio.

The half bath was remodeled with a softly understated green tile.

Beautiful balusters and an antler chandelier at the top of the stairs.

There are 3 suites with baths. This one is the primary. Look at how the tiles curve around the column.

The bath is enormous.

There's even a nook with a built-in vanity.

Suite #2 is spacious and opens to a terrace. It has a smaller bath done in a nice pink and green.

Suite #3 also opens to a terrace and has a larger bath also in pink and green tiles.

Isn't the terrace lovely?

Beautiful big patio with a pergola.

The pool is wonderful.

And, the grounds are stunning.

Across the courtyard there's a great guest house. What guest wouldn't want to stay here?

The stunning home has stunning grounds as well. 1.45 acres.

https://www.realtor.com/realestateandhomes-detail/3011-Morse-Ave_Sacramento_CA_95821_M10278-80464

[storiesofsvu]

A Dangerous Game Ch 12

Emily Prentiss x reader Warnings: language, alcohol, mentions of smut.

I promise y'all I AM putting the read more's in, this hellsite is glitching still...

While Sacramento had once been on your list of travel destinations, you hadn’t wanted to be exploring the city’s streets solving a string of murders.

The upside: the team had taken down the unsub in a matter of days meaning you’d make it back home for the weekend.

The downside: the jet was being serviced and wasn’t available until late Friday morning and you were stuck another night.

Everyone had split off but with a little bit more energy left you and Morgan found the closest dive bar to the hotel with a pool table and cheap beer, alternating between who was paying. You’d just missed your third shot in a row, letting out an annoyed huff before swiping your beer off the side of the table and chugging half of it back.

“You’re off your game Wilson.” Morgan teased, easily sinking his shot, “ya pent up or something?”

“Oh I’m sorry did you already forget about the fact that you booted me in the ribs earlier today?”

“I was aiming for the unsub!”

“Well your aim sucks. And you should be picking up the entire tab tonight.” You scowled in his direction until he finally missed a shot.

“Tell me something, why’re you so grumpy? Weren’t you the one complaining about being stuck in DC? We’re in sunny California and you’re frowning. Or is this about your so called enrichment time?” He waggled his brows in your direction and you scoffed with a roll of your eyes.

“I get plenty of enrichment time.” You stated, stepping up to the table to unfortunately miss yet another shot. Your words were true, it was just that this week Emily was stuck back in the office with extra administrative duties. There was no point in Vegas being a thing if she wasn’t in the field with you.

“Yeah? What’s her name?” Derek grinned.

“Your mom.”

“Very funny Wilson.” He shook his head for a laugh, “and I’m serious, you need to get out more.” Extending the pool cue he went to prod at your ribs and you let out a shriek before he sheepishly backed off with an apology, having already forgotten again.

“I get out perfectly fine.”

“Yeah, coffee with Garcia, farmers market with Prentiss, babysitting for JJ and third wheeling my dates. How many phone numbers did you get that week?”

“Nine.”

“And how many have you called?”

“One.” You half confidentially replied, hoping he would drop it.

“Savannah doesn’t count.” He chuckled and a puff of air blew through your lips as you dropped against a chair behind you. “C’mon, I know a perfectly pretty girl who’d love to go to dinner with you.”

“Oh Derek… please… no.” You eyes widened slightly, shaking your head and he chuckled, pulling out his phone and firing off a couple of texts.

“Tomorrow’s Friday, you always say all you do Friday nights is take out and tv.”

‘And Emily.’ You thought, glancing away as you tugged your lower lip into your mouth. Your moment of distraction had Derek thinking you were considering it, clapping you on the shoulder when his phone pinged.

“Perfect! Look, six thirty at Monocle!”

“Ugghh!” Groaning you pushed off the chair, grabbing his arm to drag him off to the bar, “you’re buying me tequila shots.”

*

Back in DC Emily was working late, which honestly she wasn’t surprised at, extra admin duty plus signing off on any paperwork from the Sacramento case the team had sent over already. Not to mention she wanted to get it all done by the end of day tomorrow, to not have to drag it into her weekend, she had plans.

Since the floor was basically empty and she was in the privacy of her own office she figured she’d get comfortable, her blazer was tossed over the back of a spare chair, her sleeves rolled up and a couple extra buttons of her shirt undone. She’d also pulled her hair up and if you asked her what was in her coffee mug she’d be lying when she told you it was coffee. With a soft sigh, she scribbled a signature onto the last page of the case papers and went to flip the file closed when a loose piece of paper from the back went rogue, shooting across her desk. Picking it up her brow furrowed, quickly reaching out to her phone, swiping up to your contact.

‘Why is there an incident report on my desk?’

It took a couple of minutes, she glanced at the time to do the quick math in her head as she tried to figure out what time it was in California and finally her phone buzzed.

‘Cause Morgan doesn’t know how to aim his kicks.’

‘Where’d he get you?’

‘Ribs.’

‘Please tell me it was your good side…’

‘Oh but that would mean luck was in my favour.’

‘You okay?’

‘EMT’s did a check, should be bruised but fine, just wanted to cover all my bases in case something flairs up.’

‘He better be sucking up.’

‘He’s currently kicking my ass at pool.’

‘Dick. Tell him he should be letting you win.’

‘He can pay my tab. I really just want to get home. It’s weird without you here.’

Her lips curved up into a grin and she felt her entire body relax at the unwritten words in your sentiment and that you were un injured enough to be out and not curled up with an ice pack. Her mind began to wander, wondering if maybe this weekend you could go out rather than do the usual take out, she’d just opened a browser on her phone to look up fancy at home date night meals, her mind still full of images of you when her ears picked up the sound of high heels approaching her office.

“Hey.” Penelope greeted and Emily glanced up, shooting her a grin, “am I interrupting?”

“No.” She shook her head, locking her phone and dropping it onto her desk, “what’re you still doing here?”

“Lost track of time going through the unsub’s hard drive and then I noticed you were still here and I knew you weren’t going anywhere anytime soon, so…” She held up the bag of take out, “figured I’d order for two.”

“You’re an angel Garcia.”

“Oh I know.” With a proud smile she moved through the room while Emily cleared off her desk so she could unpack dinner. “Also I won’t tell if you won’t.” She pulled down the side of the bag to reveal a bottle of wine and Emily chuckled.

“Way ahead of you.” She gestured to her coffee cup, earning a laugh from the other woman. A comfortable small talk over took the office as they began to dig into dinner, little bits of playing catch up and almost gossiping about the team and most recent case.

“You have plans this weekend?” Penelope asked and Emily nearly groaned.

“I dunno…. I mean I’m still trying to decide between home cooked, take out or going on for dinner tomorrow. It’s not like it’s hard!”

“Well if you’re cooking, make sure you’ve got everything in your fridge already, cause you’re not gonna want to stop after work tomorrow to pick things up. I’d go take out, privacy of your own apartment but quality food you don’t have to worry about cooking and both of you can choose exactly what you want.”

“What’d you mean both? I don’t let Sergio order himself a human dinner.”

“You think I didn’t see you smiling like an idiot at your phone when I walked in? Not to mention you haven’t been in the field all week so I know the bruise on your tit isn’t from a punch.” Emily gasped, her hand shooting to clutch the sides of her shirt together, attempting to do up a button with one hand while Garcia chuckled, “and actually, now that your hair’s up I can see the fading one behind your ear. I’d place money down on the bet that there’s at least one on your inner thigh too.” She smirked and Emily blushed a deep shade because there certainly was one on her thigh, and it wasn’t exactly fading yet despite being a week old.

“Thought you weren’t a profiler.” She grumbled, finally admitting defeat and using two hands to redo the button.

“I’m not but I’m surrounded by them all the time, and because I’m not you guys have a tendency to let your guard down a little bit when it’s just little old me. So… who is she?”

Emily sighed, letting out a small groan but when she looked over at Garcia she saw her eyes full of hope and excitement, a warm smile on her cheeks. The girl loved love, and loved seeing her friends happy even more than that, she just wanted to be supporting, an ear to listen so Emily shook her head with a grin on her lips.

“Girl I met at a bar a few months back.” It wasn’t a lie, so why did she feel so flustered about the entire thing?

“You take her home that night or wait til the third date?” Penelope asked with a grin and she laughed.

“Technically we didn’t make it out of the bar…”

“Oho… you’re naughty.” She giggled over a bite of food, “so how long have you been together then?”

“Oh! We’re not— it’s not— uh… no.” She fumbled, “just sex, strictly sex.”

“Must be good then. Because you have been like, blissfully fucked recently.”

“Penelope!”

“You sure it’s just sex? That’s how all these things start off…”

“Yes.” Emily laughed, doing her best now to keep her guard up.

“How often do you two see each other?”

‘Oh only Monday to Friday nine to five not counting trips out of state, Saturday afternoons together and countless hours in the bedroom each week.’

“Once a week…” Emily strained, “dinner, drinks, you know… we usually grab take out, watch a movie or something.”

“And you like her…”

“Well obviously!” She chuckled once again, “it’s not like I’m going to let someone I hate into my apartment. And before we play twenty questions, she’s nice, sweet, gorgeous, a great cook with even better choices of take out, I’m pretty sure she’s Sergio’s favourite person—”

“Sounds like she’s your favourite person too.”

“I—” Emily bit at her thumb, if she admitted it to someone else it meant admitting it to herself and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that yet, “she could never replace you Pen.”

“While I appreciate the sentiment I highly doubt you right now Agent Prentiss.”

***

Emily had managed to duck into the break room right in time to find you on your own, rinsing out a Tupperware container from lunch.

“Hey, glad I caught you.”

“Did I miss some paperwork?”

“No.” She laughed softly, “I know it’s your turn to buy tonight but I’m stuck in a craving of either Thai or Indian, what’d you think?” Her smile faltered on her cheeks at the way your eyes widened.

“Oh fuck me…” you muttered, “I totally forgot to tell you, I can’t tonight, I’ve got a… thing, tomorrow maybe?”

“A thing?” She raised a brow and you groaned, wincing when you spoke.

“Morgan set me up on a blind date…”

“That’s his way of making up for kicking you in the ribs? Good luck.” She teased and right as you opened your mouth to reply Spencer rounded the corner, greeting both of you before turning to Emily and beginning to ramble off about a theory for a case leaving you to freely slip out of the room.

*

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been on a date, or at least an actual date. After Skylar there had been a couple of girls here and there in Jacksonville but nothing ever stuck, nothing was ever meaningful or substantial enough to bother continuing on. You found yourself digging through your closet for almost an hour before you finally found clothes that were appropriate to wear. At the very least, Derek had given Maya your number and you’d been able to hash out the details for tonight and exchange pictures so you weren’t going in blind.

Monocle was by far fancier than what you’d expected, it was lavish, five star rating, and the prices on the menu were far beyond what you would normally be willing to pay. You couldn’t help but let out a tiny sigh, if tonight went well, if Maya seemed to be worth the effort, would you really have to be getting all dolled up for too fancy places for weeks on end? You already missed take out on Emily’s couch in sweatpants where you didn’t have to care about what you looked like, where you were completely comfortable with each other already. You knew each other’s history, flaws, favourite shows, preferred drinks, you didn’t have to sit through this boring awkward small talk over drinks. Entrée’s had been ordered, Maya had started on the appetizer while you chose to just continue to pick at the bread basket, doing your best to contribute to the conversation.

If she had asked, you would’ve lied, but you were a hundred percent profiling her right now. She was nice enough, she’d already insisted she would take care of the bill, her dress was well fitted, a high end brand, same with the jewelry, she held herself with confidence, almost too much though. She could hold a good conversation, but it was almost stale, like she was only spewing off things she knew would be impressive, things to show off with, there was no full bellied laughter, no smiles that crinkled her eyes, smirks as she teased you with a glimmer in her eye. At first you thought she was just lacking personality, and then it dawned on you.

No matter how hard she tried, she would always be lacking something.

She wasn’t Emily….

*

Emily thought that maybe a free Friday night would be a good thing, a nice chance to relax by herself, do some self care, have a nice meal. Instead she was reminded as soon as she got home about Garcia’s comment, there certainly wasn’t anything in the fridge she wanted. She didn’t have it in her to try and choose where to order from so she tossed a frozen ravioli into the microwave for dinner, pouring herself a hefty glass of wine. She settled at the kitchen island, blowing on the pasta in an attempt to cool it down when Sergio jumped up on the counter.

“I already fed you.” She grumbled but did give him a scratch behind the ears and he sat down on the counter, looking between her and the empty spot across from her before he let out a particularly loud meow. “What?” She laughed over a bite.

“Mrroooww.” He looked again toward your spot at the island and she huffed.

“Relax buddy, she’s not coming tonight.”

“Mow?” His head tilted.

“I know, it sucks.” She sighed once again, she knew there was a chance you’d gone on the date just to get Morgan to shut up, but something was still irking her, she was so used to having your company on Fridays. It helped the entire wind down for the week, not having to do it alone, not to mention it was your turn to pay this week.

“Meoow?” Sergio plopped down onto his side, baring his stomach as if he was demonstrating exactly why you should be there instead.

“I dunno, she’s out with someone.”

He let out an almost annoyed purr, rolling back onto his stomach as he glanced between the two sides of the island, meowing in Emily’s direction.

“Stop asking me questions I don’t know the answer to!” She mumbled, taking another bite of food.

This time Sergio got up, wandering over to her with an extra loud meow before he head butted her chin.

“Oof, jeeze bud.” She began to scratch at his head as he continued to yell “I know, I know, it’s not fair, she should be here. Friday’s are our days.”

And there it was, she had basically said it out loud.

“Fuck…” she muttered, Sergio mewling up at her once again, glancing between her and the ravioli she wasn’t eating. “You really want this? It’s disgusting…”

“Mow.” He nearly nodded and with an eye roll she slid the container in his direction.

*

You had your phone on the table just in case something happened, but to be polite you’d stashed it underneath your napkin. When you picked that up to wipe off your hand your eyes darted toward the screen, the only reason it was alit was the brief touch from the back of your hand, nothing was going on. Maya let out a little chuckle,

“Everything alright over there?”

“Yeah.” You mumbled, eyes still on the screen almost trying to manifest a message popping up when you realized you didn’t actually need a real message and picked up the device, “but, work…” you feigned a wince, “never ends.”

“Must be nice.”

“What?”

“Having a guaranteed get out of jail free card.” She stated with an amused grin, folding her hands under her chin.

“You’ve lost me.”

“With a job like yours, you can use it as an excuse to get out of basically anything you don’t want to be doing. You’re seeing someone, I get it.”

“No! I— that’s not, I’m just distracted tonight.”

“Because you’ve been thinking about her since you walked in the door.” She stated plainly, surveying you for a moment, “let me guess… it’s been going on for a while but you both insist it’s only casual, nothing serious, maybe even secretive. But now that you’re out with me on an actual date you’re realizing that you’re wishing it was her on this side of the table instead of me?”

You paused for a moment, your brow furrowing in her direction across the table, “I thought I was supposed to be the profiler…”

“The psychiatry degree comes in handy once in a while.” She shrugged, flagging down the server as they walked passed, asking for a couple of take out containers, “take your food to go, enjoy what’s left of your night.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” She smiled softly, “no point in wasting time, right?”

“I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t worry about it.”

*

Emily, completely unable to stop thinking about the fact that you were out on a date with someone else, that there was a chance you were going to spend the night with them, had decided to start deep cleaning her apartment in a feeble attempt to distract herself.

Rock music played through the apartment, a little louder than she would normally have it, trying to drown out her thoughts as she went. She’d finished the kitchen, clearing out the fridge and freezer, already having taken out a couple loads of garbage. Now that she was into the living room Sergio seemed to want to help, continually jumping up onto whatever surface she was trying to polish no matter how many times she dropped him back to the floor. Clearly she wasn’t the only one affected by your absence tonight. She sprayed the tv with Windex as Serg began to slink between the picture frames and artificial plants on the television stand, meowing and purring as he went. He reached the end, turning around to do it again and gave a little extra sway of his back leg, effectively kicking off one of the plants and sent it to the floor where it shattered.

“Sergio!” Emily yelped, scolding him again before she scooped him up to lock him in the bedroom while she cleaned it up to make sure he didn’t step in any broken ceramic.

Letting out a weary sigh she grabbed the broom and dustpan, starting to sweep up the dirt and little pieces, she was sure she was just sweeping dirt and faux leaves when something clinked against the metal dustpan and her brow furrowed. She tilted the dustpan a bit, shifting the dirt and a piece of silver buried amongst the black caught the light in the room, glinting right back at her. Her body shifted into high alert, her heart jumping in her chest as she shifted it again, metal glittering back at her and she was thoughtful enough to keep her mouth shut. Squatting down her fingers shifted through the dirt until she managed to pick it out and her suspicion was confirmed.

It was an audio bug. Someone had been in her apartment, more importantly, someone had been listening in to everything that had been going on in her apartment. Letting out an internal swear she suddenly remembered the night at Rossi’s when she’d found her window cracked open. Whoever had planted the bug had been listening in for months. She practically jumped out of her skin when her phone rang, ringtone blaring through the apartment effectively stopping the music and she dropped the bug back into the pile of dirt.

“Hello?”

______________

@ssa-sapphic @mickey-gomez @clarawatson @cabotfan42 @momlifebehard @melindawarnersgf @itisdoctortoyousir @emilyprentiss4life @somethingimaginative17 @temilyrights @alexxavicry  @anya-casablanca @daddy-heather-dunbar @evilregal2002 @aliensaurusrex @rustyzebra @ilovemycrayons @mandy-asimp @thegrantwater @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @m00nkn1ghts @augustvandyne @supercriminalbean @daffodil-heart @msvenablesbitch @its-soph-xx  @going-gray @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @hopelesslyfallenninlove @peanutbutterprincess  @kdaghay @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @awolfcsworld @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @s1ut4nat @midnight-sapphic @scorpsik @thisisraes @prentiss-theorem @unsubologyy @strongsassysexysloane @svushots  @lavenderhoney94 @overtrred28 @borg-queer

[allthingsfern]

I want to thank all of you who read my posts and look at my photos, who also had me in your thoughts, and especially:

@themazette

@matthewschiavello

@ksjanes

@nh-art

@photoshamanism

@bwwhitney

@mostlythemarsh

@uwhe-arts

@sharonbphotos

@pointandshooter

@stephiramona

@coloradoprairie

The photo I took right after the surgery. I am also grateful to my ophthalmologist, who is great about explaining everything (and being succinct) and has a great sense of humor. Actually, after the surgery he came by and we started talking about his playlist during surgery (country western). We both agreed about some of the old great and I suggested he listen to Trio (Dolly Parton, Emmylou Harris, Linda Ronstadt). They cut 2 albums together, both superb, and the first one is one of hte most beautiful collections of music I've ever heard. The video below, from a live performance on The Tonight Show w/ Johnny Carson, features 3 songs performed by them. A fucking treasure.

Then he went on (and on) about David Allen Coe's The Ride. When he started trying to perform the damned song, I wound up laughing while I told him to "Get out! Get out!" Maybe not the best move, since he is going to operate on my left eye on the 21st of December...

All of this to say my eyesight is really good. I can see, as my cousin who has had cataract surgery told me, "in Technicolor." I am fortunate that my ophthalmologist recommended I just have the basic lens inserted, since my eyesight is still pretty good.

It has been a weird challenge, though not unsurmountable, since I spent a lot of time sleeping but am getting a sense of me again. Grateful I can work from home and my bosses are understanding and put up with my shit.

Also am grateful for my 2 sisters (one of my sisters and her best friend, who has been part of the family for decades) who came out to be with me for a few days. They drove me nuts, but then I would expect (or want) no less. But we had a nice drive to SF and the Golden Gate Bridge and had some great meals and watched old movies. They went by themselves to the Sacramento Railroad Museum (one of my favorite museums) and to the outlet stores close by. And they bugged the shit outta me, for which I love them.

So, all's cool in the pool.

[exquisiteagony]

For the ask game: 👀🤲🤯⛔️?

👀: Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

skydweller four has more pov’s (hannes, samy, as well as a prologue from remony (the girl who archie took with taz) and swallowtail). it also widens the character pool to include some faces who’ve only been mentioned so far!

🤲: Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

it’s from the road trip fic i’ve never actually said much about before

He scrawled a signature in the log book - Eemi knew it would be fake - and then they were off out into the fresh air again.

Somehow, it was even colder. Eemi shivered again and took off after Archie, around to the steps up to the rooms. The concrete was chipped and pitted from age and weather below his Converses, and uneven from the years. Eemi looked up again when he reached the top and peered out at the desert skyline.

This high up, he could see for miles. The highway was behind him, and before him was the dusty expanse of the desert, dotted about with scrubby plants that made sinister dark shapes in the twilight. The sky was a velvety blue pin-pricked with stars, and Eemi didn’t think he’d ever seen them so bright and clear as this now he was away from the pollution of the city. Back in L.A. they’d been tiny faint dots even when the sky was clear, and back home in Helsinki they hadn’t been all that much brighter, but the miles between the motel and Sacramento had snatched the usual haze of light pollution away, and the stars were haloed in a little green in some places. Eemi thought one might even be Venus rather than a star, though he wasn’t sure and he had no way of checking. He and Archie had ditched their phones before they’d left, and they hadn’t bothered with burners.

Archie cleared his throat, snatching his attention. Eemi looked away from the sky hurriedly, turning towards him. “It’s beautiful,” he said sheepishly. “We don’t get views like this in the city.”

Archie hummed, jangling the keys, but he looked out across the desert all the same. “It’s lonely,” he said after a few moments, wrinkling his nose. He turned away to lead the way to their room for the night without another word.

Rejection splashed in Eemi’s gut. His cheeks prickled with heat, but he followed after Archie all the same.

Besides, Archie was right. The view might be beautiful, but the desert was a vast, lonely place. There was no sense in getting sucked into its beauty.

Archie came to a halt outside room 19. He slipped the key into the lock and opened the door without fanfare, stepping through to turn the light on. Eemi followed him mutely, stepping into the relative warmth. He set his bag down on the grimy carpet - of course a motel in a small town like this would be run-down and grubby at best, he hadn’t expected anything better - and shut the door behind him, shutting out that vast and lonely view.

🤯: What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)?

romance. and currently smut

⛔️: Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped?

so many 😅😅 there’s the reader insert bc ones, half of my wip list because i hated what i had down, and the final chapter of ‘the truth was born deformed and dead’

[bluesnow21]

Someone You Know is Trans; They don’t deserve to Die in the Closet.

It’s been two years, four months and twenty days since the day my best friend committed suicide. She was a transgender woman struggling with mental health, had admitted herself into the psychward a few times prior, and I thought she was taking her meds and getting better. There had been three instances where she’d mentioned/struggled with deciding over the ten years I knew her whether to go back on HRT or not.

At the time, she was back in college pursuing an IT degree, she planned to go back on HRT, move out to Sacramento CA permanently, have a small piece of property, and adopt a black kid. She was a stoner, a grease monkey, an atheist, pool player, and a big part of what made living my life in NJ easier and more enjoyable than it ever would’ve been.  She also wrote letters to queer/trans inmates within the Black/Pink Project. She loved reading, film, collecting license plates, and muscle cars. Some of her favorite writers included Chuck Wendig, Douglas Adams, Michelle Tea, and Joe Hill. I got my first tattoo with her present, and the same day backed her car into a brick wall while she was trying to teach me stick-shift (she took I really well). We went to concerts, played pool, smoked weed, made trips through the Adirondacks, and every bit of time I spent with them was memorable. She got me through a bad relationship just by being there and comforting me, helped me out whenever I had car trouble, and was there to help me move into new apartments three times; Anytime I needed help or a friend she was there. Our birthdays are exactly 3 months apart, or as they would say when I’d forgotten this fact, “You Idiot! We’re exactly 9 months apart how do you forget this!?” She didn’t give a shit what anyone else thought about her. I admired her courage to be herself.

I miss her.  I still remember the last hug I gave her a week before it happened; the last time I’d gotten high with her she’d told me her name she wanted to start going by but I was so high I couldn’t remember it when I sobered up (I had to Uber home). I thought I could ask again next time I saw them in another week. I knew something was wrong. When I got the news the morning of: I got drunk, then I cried my eyes out about a week or two later.  I helped bury my best friend and I couldn’t remember her name that she’d wanted to change it to, so the funeral was a misgendered funeral; It’s something I still feel awful about.  She wanted to be buried in a Rheingold Beer Jumpsuit that had belonged to her grandfather; instead it was a regular suit (not what they wanted). There was only one photo at the funeral of when she’d briefly started transitioning when I first met her, before she went off of HRT. I didn’t know how to bring any of this up to her Dad. He wasn’t a transphobe. I just didn’t know how to bring it up and since I didn’t have the name she wanted to go by I thought it more important to help bury my friend. Out of respect for not wanting to dead name her, I won’t use names.  I just want to finally put something up here and TransDay of Remembrance seemed appropriate.  It’s taken me time to put this up here because I wasn’t sure how the parents or other friends would feel about this.  I know I’m not the only person she shared this with, but know that if she’d had more time more people would’ve known about this. 

I’m posting this in memory of my friend and for all the trans-women/men/etc, who never come out and who never will.

Memento Mori Memento Vivere

Remember you will die. Remember to Live.

[nevalizona]

John goes for a swim.

Pardon any errors.

He dunked his head under, immediately there was nothing. No sound. Just the water slapping against the sides of the pool. He wishes he was in a lake, any lake, but this will have to do. Today is a particularly rough day. His head is moving quickly, hardly giving him time to actually think. He's more scattered than he's ever been, which in his defense, is normally only when he's like "this" anyway. He just needs a break. A pause.

He focuses on his breathing or lack of breathing. His lungs aren't burning, not yet. Years of swim and water polo have somewhat prepared him for this. The burning will come soon, he will welcome it. He has always enjoyed toying with that sensation. Knowing when he should go up for air, and pushing that point a tad. It's thrilling in its own way.

He's a little out of practice. Can't spend that much time in water these days. Been so busy. He didn't realize how busy he'd actually be. He ran through the "coming home" process a hundred times in his head. He thought he approached it from every angle. But apparently not. He's been swamped, being pulled in so many directions he can't keep his head straight.

"You're gonna come visit us, right Johnny?" His mom had asked several times since he's gotten home. She calls every evening, and always closes off her calls with that. He doesn't hate the idea of visiting home. Sacramento. He actually longed to see his mother. But he just can't do that right now. Be that vulnerable. Seeing people, his parents, and his mother, means tears. It means asking him too many questions. It means poking and prodding him. He can't do that. Not right now. Maybe not ever.

He burst through the surface of the water, gasping for air. He coughed and sputtered. He wasn't focusing enough. His chest and throat ached.

"God-fucking-dammit!" He exclaimed, smacking the water, causing a splash. This isn't smart. He needs to focus. His mind is wandering too quickly. Too fast. He grumbled to himself about 'broken fucking brains' as he climbed up a little ladder and onto the patio.

He walked over to where his towel was and tossed it over his head, and quickly rubbed his hair, so it wouldn't drip down his neck. He sighed and took a seat on the little plastic chair, grabbing his pack of cigarettes and grabbing one, not hesitating to light it.

The drag that followed calmed him slightly. Being home means a lot of things. Pressure. Work. Being back to the "normal" day-to-day. He wants to fall face-first back into his work, but he can't. Not right now. Can't focus. Can't do anything right. Can't even swim.

[remembertheplunge]

A day in Sacramento

11/4/2017. Saturday 4:33pm Sacramento. 

Like Jim will soon do in 2009 (the wind down was beginning around now) Naked Coffee has died. It’s still here, but, it’s been white trash Jetsoned. Steril. Boring. Austere. Naked Coffee’s soul. Jim’s soul. Gone—

9:43pm

Soon, 8 years ago, would be Jim’s final words to me “Cover me”.

I lived that last day again today. Watched a dark mountain descend into dusk.

Heard a song “I’ve done all I can here. I fall into your arms. Hold on to tonight. I’ll be gone in the morning."

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

I Sacramento’d today—

1) 24 hour fitness gymed and Jacuzzied

2) washed away my story in the pool

3) attended the funeral of Naked Coffee

4) addressed the apple lap top world at Weatherstone’s Coffee House bar. This is not 1986 anymore.

5). Listened to songs from November 1969 on the drive up

6) Gave a handsome blue eyed young drunk homeless man a sweat shirt outside Demples on Broadway.

7) Had Mc Donald’s dinner with Rick, a homeless man, at Mc Henery McDonalds in Modesto.

8) Sweet, crisp, windswept, cloud swept, peek a boo full moon day.

9) Patricia called. Great talk. Greg told her that he and I talked.

End of Entry

Notes:  Jetsoned comes from the 1960’s cartoon “The Jetson’s” about a family living in the sleek, sterile future. Naked Coffee had a bohemian interior which was very conducive to my soul inducing journal writing there. But, the owners killed that when they modernized.

On November 4, 2009, in the late afternoon, in our home,  my partner Jim’s liver failure had reached a point where ammonia started building up in his system. He became more and more disoriented as there evening progressed. He refused to let me take him to the hospital. I put him in bed, and his last words to me were “Cover me.” By 3am, he was incoherent. He was taken to Doctor’s hospital by ambulance. Two days later he was returned home. Two days after that, he died. He never regained consciousness.

Weatherstones was a coffee house I used to write at when I lived in Sacramento in 1986 and 1987. It had a very rough and Bohemian feel to it. We read book, wrote and talked there.. By 2017, the interior was more like a Starbucks. Books were replaced by lap tops. Like Naked Coffee, Weatherstone’s had lost it’s soul.

Demples was a record, DVD store in Sacramento located across from the Tower Theater. It has since closed.

Patricia was the mother of Greg. Greg was a homeless man in Modesto. His parents lived on the East Coast. I met Greg at a gas station in Modesto on 9th street earlier in 2017. I brought him home. He called his mother from my phone. He spent the night here  at my house that night. Greg was an artist. I have a painting that he did for me. He painted my house numbers on the curb in front of my house. He painted house numbers for a living. Eventually, his Mother , Patricia, called me. Based on her conversations with me, she and her husband took a train to Modesto to find Greg. They did find him here, but he refused to return to their home on the East Coast with them. Greg had mental health issues that his parents wanted to have him treated back home. 

[spirearchitecture-blog]

project 100

a  home in the sierra foothills on a 20 acres parcel with views of snow capped mountains on one side and downtown sacramento on the other. the home is based on a simple "H" layout with porches running front and back to shade the building in the summer while still allowing for winter sun to warm the building. 2 spacious suites on each side of the house are used depending on the season, one suite for summer and the other for winter. clearstory windows fill the home with light and plenty of windows allow for light , air and view to the outside landscape and pool.

architect : doron dreksler

builder : spire architecture 

[darkmaga-returns]

Democrat vice presidential nominee Tim Walz has been forced to walk back his recent calls for the Electoral College to be abolished.

During a California fundraiser earlier this week, Walz declared that “the Electoral College needs to go.”

Walz was at the private Sacramento home of California’s Democrat Gov. Gavin Newsom on Tuesday when he spoke about the process by which U.S. presidents are elected.

According to a pool report at the event, Bloomberg reported that Walz demanded a “national popular vote” instead.

“I think all of us know the Electoral College needs to go,” Walz said.

“We need a national popular vote, but that’s not the world we live in.”

After Walz made the remarks, the Harris campaign insisted that it was not the vice president’s stance on the matter.

Just two days later, in an interview with ABC host Michael Strahan, Walz was backpedaling out of his misstep from the campaign.

During the interview, Strahan told Walz he wanted to go back to something the Minnesota governor said on Tuesday.

[serviceandstuff001]

Emergency Water Heater Repair: What to Do When Your Unit Fails 

A malfunctioning water heater can disrupt your daily routine, leaving you without hot water for showers, washing dishes, and laundry. Knowing what to do in an emergency can save you time and minimize damage to your home. Here’s a step-by-step guide on how to handle a water heater repair in Sacramento.

Signs of a Water Heater Failure

Be on the lookout for these common warning signs that indicate your water heater may be failing:

No Hot Water: If your taps only produce cold water, it’s time to investigate.

Leaking Water: Any pooling water around the base of the heater could signal a leak.

Strange Noises: Banging, popping, or hissing sounds often indicate sediment buildup or mechanical issues.

Discolored Water: Rusty or cloudy water may indicate corrosion inside the tank.

Steps to Take When Your Water Heater Fails

Turn Off the Power: For electric water heaters, switch off the circuit breaker. For gas heaters, turn off the gas supply.

Shut Off the Water Supply: Locate the cold water shut-off valve and turn it off to prevent further leaks.

Assess the Situation: Check for visible signs of damage. If it's a minor issue like a small leak, you might be able to manage it temporarily.

Call a Professional: If the problem is significant or you’re unsure how to proceed, contact a licensed plumber immediately. Attempting repairs without expertise can lead to further damage or safety hazards.

Document the Issue: Take photos and notes of the situation for insurance purposes, especially if there's water damage involved.

Experiencing a water heater failure can be stressful, but knowing how to respond can alleviate some of that pressure. If you need immediate assistance with water heater repair in Sacramento, turn to Preferred Plumbing and Drain. Their experienced team is ready to tackle any plumbing emergency, ensuring you have hot water when you need it most. Contact Preferred Plumbing and Drain today to get your water heater back in working order!

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Homefinder Real Estate Data Scraping by DataScrapingServices.com

In the competitive world of real estate, access to accurate and up-to-date property information is crucial for making informed decisions. Whether you are a real estate agent, investor, or marketer, having comprehensive data at your fingertips can significantly enhance your ability to close deals, target potential clients, and stay ahead of the market trends. DataScrapingServices.com offers specialized Homefinder Real Estate Data Scraping services that provide you with the most relevant and actionable property data, helping you achieve your business goals efficiently.

Homefinder is one of the leading online real estate platforms, offering a vast repository of property listings across the United States. This is where our Homefinder Real Estate Data Scraping service comes into play. By automating the data extraction process, we provide you with a treasure trove of real estate information, tailored to your specific needs. This service is ideal for real estate professionals looking to enhance their property databases, streamline marketing efforts, and make data-driven decisions.

List of Data Fields

Our Homefinder Real Estate Data Scraping service covers a wide range of data fields, ensuring you receive a comprehensive overview of the properties listed on the platform. Some of the key data fields include:

- Property Address: Full street address, including city, state, and ZIP code.

- Property Type: Detailed categorization of the property (e.g., single-family home, condo, apartment).

- Listing Price: Current asking price of the property.

- Square Footage: Total living area of the property.

- Number of Bedrooms and Bathrooms: Detailed room count for accurate assessments.

- Property Features: Additional features such as garage, pool, garden, etc.

- Listing Agent Information: Contact details of the agent handling the property.

- Property Photos and Videos: Visual content to provide a better understanding of the property.

- Days on Market: Information on how long the property has been listed.

Benefits of Homefinder Real Estate Data Scraping

The benefits of utilizing our Homefinder Real Estate Data Scraping service are manifold:

1. Time and Resource Efficiency: Manually browsing through countless property listings can be labor-intensive and error-prone. Our automated scraping service delivers accurate data quickly, allowing you to focus on analysis and strategic decision-making.

2. Enhanced Targeting: With access to detailed property data, you can better target your marketing campaigns, tailoring your outreach to specific property types, locations, and price ranges. This level of precision can lead to higher conversion rates and more successful deals.

3. Market Insights: The data collected from Homefinder can provide valuable insights into market trends, helping you identify emerging opportunities and stay ahead of the competition. Whether you're tracking price fluctuations or analyzing the popularity of certain property types, our service equips you with the data you need to make informed decisions.

4. Improved Property Matching: For real estate agents and brokers, having a detailed database of properties allows for better matching of clients with homes that meet their specific criteria. This leads to higher client satisfaction and a more efficient sales process.

Best Real Estate Data Scraping Service Provider

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Best Homefinder Real Estate Data Scraping in USA:

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Conclusion

In the fast-paced real estate market, staying informed and making data-driven decisions is key to success. DataScrapingServices.com’s Homefinder Real Estate Data Scraping service provides you with the comprehensive, accurate, and up-to-date information you need to excel in your business. From enhancing your marketing efforts to improving client satisfaction, the benefits of utilizing this service are clear. Let us help you unlock the full potential of Homefinder’s vast property listings and take your real estate business to the next level.

Website: Datascrapingservices.com

Email: info@datascrapingservices.com

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