sorry, i just want a hug.

not like a specific hug.  just, like, a generic mental hug?

that doesn't make sense.  sorry.

i was going to put here that i need to write notes for the next part of exhibition, but i apparently wrote half the notes to it already.  there's a lot of dialogue, which always seems like i'm padding out stuff when i write it.  i think the character development is important, though, especially if i want to keep "z" the way i've outlined it.

did i mention that i have most of the final chapter planned already?  i don't know that i'll ever write it, or release it, or anything, because it's kind of something i don't want people to read.  it's how it ends, i'm sure of that.  i just don't know if i want other people to know how it ends.  sorry for being weird.  i'll try to make the middle chapters interesting so people like them.

isn't pizza great?  like, imagine a pizza.  are you sad?  probably not, because pizza is delicious.

ok.  i should go to sleep or something.  this has gone weird, and i try to not go weird if i can help it.  rereading, this has all gone weird, so if you don't see this tomorrow, it was too weird.  sorry.


sorry, everyone.

back

flying generally sucks.

quick summary in case i don't respond to things:

1. thanks for reading my stories.  i hope to not suck at writing stories in the future.
1. thanks for liking that woefully unfinished story.  i know i have three more parts, and part two is half written.  i should probably just release that.
1. at what point should i just publish the notes for that story, and accept that i'm not going to finish it?
2. thanks for being cool, just in general.
3. don't reply to that other blog if you're just going to talk about thing that are most appropriate on this blog.  i mean, what's wrong with you, M.V.?  i wrote shit there three months ago when google was going to burn all the porn blogs.  they didn't, so i posted more here, and this has always ever been the place i link to.  wtf?
4. this was going to be a point.
5. i'm hungry.
6. my vacation was pretty cool.  it's nice to be able to tell someone she's a jerk, and have her smile back and be cool about it.  i miss having real friends in real life.
1. i hate that she's all "i'm fat," but still looks fashionable, and i'm all "i'm fat," and i look like a potato.
2. but no, really, we spent a lot of this weekend telling each other particular ways in which we need to improve ourselves.
1. "stop being a jerk to your husband.  yes, he's lame, and yes, he's lazy, but you're still somehow attracted to him, so don't fuck it up.  plus, you have a kid, dummy!"
1. "well, maybe you should go to a therapist and tell them all your weird shit, and see if they could help you sort out a plan to not feel awful all the time!"
1. "i called them, and i have to wait a month and a half!"
1. "probably because you stink!"
2. "and do you see how i play with your daughter?  she makes up random crazy shit, and i play along.  how is this difficult?"
1. "but she just shouts at me when i try that!"
1. "pick up the doll and start making the voices first.  she'll wonder what you're doing and try to lead the way"
1. "but i feel silly playing with dolls and making them say things"
1. "dude, she's three.  she's not going to remember you said something silly, she's going to remember you played with her"
3. "so are you drinking still?"
1. LIES: "not so much as before"
1. "really?"
1. LIES: "yeah, like a few drinks, but only on the weekend."
1. I DON"T THINK SHE BELIEVED ME: "that's good"
4. "when was the last time you had a date?"
1. "um"
1. "come on, you shouldn't stay home all the time"
1. "but like, how can anyone ever love me if i can't stand to love me and i have to deal with me all the time?"
1. "so when are you seeing that therapist?"
5. "you should come visit me."
1. "we should probably come visit you."
1. "but you can't stay with me, because my apartment is a mess, and my depression makes it hard to keep up with cleaning."
1. "so"
1. "so i'll try to score a kama'aina hotel, and it'll be cheaper"
1. "did i mention that we didn't have jobs for six months, so we have a lot of debt?"
6. "whoa"
1. "wow."
1. "that's super simple."
1. "like, you don't have to do anything"
1. "except touch pork"
1. "pork is fucking fine, hypochondriac"
1. "with your hands, maybe"
2. it was delicious too.

that point when your brain just keeps chanting "you can cut that arm all night long"

sorry.

wow.

my brain is still awful, and it's not getting better.  just fucking terrible shit.

i did read the comment, and i'm so super sorry i made you worry/post that.  i am trying to be better, but i'm always horrible.

that isn't the sentence i thought it would be.  ok, doing this drunk was probably a mistake.  the last one was a super sober "time to eat dinner" thing.  this is me just whatevering.

this was nearly going to turn into another leftist screed.  but then i read the last one and stopped all that.

but seriously, if you're like "gay people are gross, so i'm just going to sit here and jack off to your lesbo-porn" maybe you need to cut that arm all night long.  i'll sit here and wait.  send me emails as it all drains out.  i'll send replies for your heirs to read.  we can do it together if you want.

ok, sorry.   again with the sorry.

i'm going on vacation tomorrow today.  so i'll be gone (not dead gone, just away from porn town gone) for a bit.

thanks everyone for being supportive for someone who just drags down that support all the time.  i hope therapy helps again.  like actual helps.  helps that make me not write 1am drunk posts about socialism and sadness.

i love you so so much.
;)

sorry.

i don't even remember what it was all about, i just remember it started with me feeling dumb because of anxiety.  so now it's gone, and if you left the comment, sorry but i didn't read that either, i just marked the email as read.  i just had to have the whole thing go away to stop the "you said something stupid" anxiety.

which is kind of always here, and i know it makes me super needy and whiny.  i hate that about me, too.  it sucks have a voice constantly telling me that i'm not good at anything, and that anything good that i do is just an accident, or that it's shit too, i'm just too dumb to realize it.  it double sucks when that voice is your voice, or at least similar enough to the voice you use when you sing along in the car.  out of key.

and i ramble a lot.  i think it's to try and redirect the conversation to stupid crap that doesn't mean anything so i don't have to feel stressed about it.

one issue is that i'm going on vacation, and that's always super stressful for me.  you know, like how it isn't for normal people who can look forward to doing something that's not the same day-to-day shit.

and now i'm sad because the japanese travel show i watch just showed a dead bird.  this show is from 1995 or something, sammy.  that bird was going to be dead by now anyway.  :(  it was a pretty green bird.  mejiro?

anyway, i took the time to schedule a therapy appointment, since not trying therapy clearly isn't working.  so, hopefully i'll be better in july.  because that's when you get an appointment now, i guess.  thanks, obama.  like a serious thanks, though, for helping people get health care so they can get therapy if they need it.

The Exhibition: The Office

The Exhibition: The Office
sammy_808@live.com
http://sammytriesagain.blogspot.com/2015/05/the-exhibition-office.html

--

read "office" first

i'm so fast at writing now!

but really only like just right now!

sunday morning dream stories

i'm visiting my friend, who somehow now live at the top of a high rise that's mostly abandoned.  it's filled with animals, as she's just brought in six chickens to go with a bunch of cats and a pile of puppies.  i reach down to pet a pug puppy, and it just bites me on the finger and looks at me like, "sorry, i have to bite you now, because i'm super tough."

--

something about elevators not working in the parking garage.

--

i make it down to the mall at the bottom of the elevator (sure), and stumble upon a bakery/cafe.  it's super small, with not much room inside.  the first three times i try to go in, other people sneak past and fill the store while i'm opening the door.  the final time, i keep holding the door open, as the last group of people are just standing in the doorway talking to people on both sides.  i swing the door all the way back, and think about if it's possible to crush my head between the door and the wall.

but then the cafe clears, and i can go in and order.  the menu is on a bunch of cards scattered on the counter, and they have a tv menu, but it never changes to the menu screens, just like pictures of cakes and things.  the owner is at the counter, and she asks what i want, and then describes a delicious sounding cake.  "it's a pie," she insists, "and in the corners, it's like starburst candies."  that doesn't sound good now, but it totally does in dream world.  "it's $17.16"  wow, ok, that's kind of expensive, but it sounds good. "it's $7.16" ok, that's a better deal, i'll have that.  "no, you have to say it right."  there's this long script of how to order, where it's all, "after thinking things through, and considering all the options, the menu item i imply (i read it as insist, saw it was imply, decided that doesn't make sense, and continued again with insist) i have is that pie you just described."

"oh, that's special order.  we don't have any."  i'm beginning to hate this lady.

"then give me that sandwich, with the swiss."  i point to the tv, just as it flips off the page with the sandwiches.  she pushes a random sandwich thing that flips a bunch of cards to make one with swiss.  "no, no, the..." i start shuffling through the menu pages, trying to find the sandwich page, and when i do, there aren't just the six or whatever from the tv, it's like dozens.  and they all look super yummy, although i'm pretty sure my brain just invented fake-french words to use as ingredients.  the owner goes into the back, and i see they have soup too, and a cup of french onion soup sounds yummy, so i decide to get that, and "the swiss and mushroom sandwich" and a plain grilled cheese with three cheeses, so i can try out two of their breads.  but no one is there to take my order, and i turn around and the place is way bigger than before, and it's full of people who are angry at me that i'm taking so long, because they want to order too.

and that's when simulated social anxiety caused me to wake up from a nightmare about grilled cheese.

it's not your fault, grilled cheese.  i will love you forever. <3

done.

not edited, and i think i missed a point i wanted, but the hard part is finished.

it should be up tomorrow.

thanks for being patient!

:)

saturday morning dream stories

i'm at work, but i'm grumpy because i haven't eaten lunch, and i brought a thing to microwave, but it claims it takes 9 minutes to heat up.  so instead of doing that, i'm being more grumpy.

--

suddenly "a coworker" (who doesn't exist in real life, so is just here for the dream, i guess) shows up.  she pulls down my pants and underwear, and pushes me down on the bed (dream world!).  i try to figure out what she's doing, and cover up, but she grabs my arms, stuffs them under my tummy, and pulls them out on the opposite side.  "stay like that."

she then sits between my legs, and does quick smacks with her hands on my ass.  i try to squirm away, but she grabs my ankles and pulls me back.  next she bends down and spreads my cheeks apart, and i can feel her scraping with a fingernail.  "look what i found," she says as she dives up next to me on the bed.  she holds out her finger, and there's a tiny bit of poop on it.  "looks like you didn't wipe enough.  what should we do with this?"  i grab a kleenex and wipe her finger as she laughs.  "i think maybe you should come by and i'll inspect you to see if you're clean."

she rolls around, and has my ass on her lap to spank it (there's a weird geometry thing here.  she was lying on my left side, but after setting it up is now on my right side).  afterwards, i'm crying, and slide back off of her, and i give her a kiss on her right thigh, in the fold just where it meets her hip.  she laughs and squeezes me in a big warm hug.

(this is where i woke up with my right leg trapped in the sheets, and my blanket curled up around my head.  but then i went back to sleep:)

--

we're at a vacation "spa"/"camp"/"such a place doesn't exist" thing.  it's underground and dark and dingy.  i'm super embarrassed, and worried, because we're not supposed to be dating since we work together (or something like that).  we're choosing our showers, because it's like a dorm bathroom or something.  the showers are even darker and dingier, and i don't understand how i'm supposed to get clean in them.  she chooses one, and points for me to take the one opposite it.  she steps into hers, and flashes me, making me flush bright red while she just giggles.

(i woke up again because i couldn't get over how everyone else was ignoring how dirty the place was.  i guess it was supposed to be a dungeon kind of place?  wtf, brain?)

--

i pull into a parking lot, and at first i think they're having a car wash thing, but i then notice that one of them has a black square instead of a bottom part of her bikini.  her friend turns, and she has a giant piece of black glass that she's using to hide behind, like a real-life censor bar.

(ditto waking up and wtf brain?)

update-y stuff

i'm going to try super hard to get "o1" finished and out this weekend.  i was going to write more tonight, but then i didn't, so that's how things work. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

but i want it to be done and released because i'm taking vacation time next weekend for labor day, and i'm flying to visit my friend in san francisco.

she was super pushy about getting me to visit, so i think it's going to be talking through her problems a lot.  i continue to think that she probably doesn't have any really major problems, although she does have a lazy husband.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

i just realized that in my head, i've been calling the double-next chapter "The Exhibition: The NOUN: The DIFFERENT-NOUN THAT-FIRST-NOUN".  maybe "The Exhibition: The NOUN (DIFFERENT-NOUN THAT-FIRST-NOUN)"  "The Exhibition: NOUN 2"

noun is a weird word.  noun.  naaaaooooooowwwwwwwwwwwnnnnn.

now it just sounds like i'm some sort of weird lion.

noun* it just sounds like.

ok, rambled enough for today.  time to drink more and try to wake up tomorrow to fulfill this promise-post. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

i like shruggy emoji.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

animal shows

should have a "don't worry, none of the baby animals die in this episode" warnings.  or like, a blank space where that would go, so you know that baby animals are going to die in this episode.

and you're just a jerk, king macaque.  "i'm the super monkey boss, and everyone has to do the 'you're scared of me' chattering teeth thing."

"even me?" asks tiny baby macaque who is like a quarter king monkey's size.

"everyone, otherwise i don't know that you're sufficiently submissive to me."

"like, you're four fucking times my size.  why are you even concerned about this?  i'm going to come over and be all disrespectful and you'd rip me to pieces.  like, buy some self esteem, jackass."

"i don't hear chattering!"

fuck you macaque.  you're a jerk, and i hope you die.

"warning: this episode contains animal death, but don't worry, he was a fucking jerk and got what he deserved."

"warning: this episode contains animal death, but we're following the baby tigers growing up, so, you know, om nom nom and all that."

that's ok too, but when you were taunting earlier that mommy bear is really shitty at being a mommy bear and maybe the baby bears are going to freeze to death in a tree?  nope.  i don't want to be jerked around like that.

why do i have so much disco?

in my mp3 saved shit.  like, this is all the disco.  i'm guessing these people were dead a decade before i was born.  but now we're doing

this big disco riff

about disco shit?  about being disco?

way to swing this shit here.


sorry


a lot sorry


i just relistened to stuff i bought years ago, and it's so...

70s?  is disco really what i mean?  like, weird boopy shit and then a shifty boop-boop-ty-boop aaaahhhhh boop-boop-ty-boop aaaaaaahhhhh boop-boop-ty-boop-aaaaaaahhhhh bing bang bong-a boop boop-ty-boop

ok, new


boop.   boop-a-tee-boop.  boop-a-tee-boop.

boop-a-teee-booops.  i can't no more.  sorry..


all so the boops.

do people get annoyed at random daily posts?

like, "fucking sammy.  talking about shit to farm sympathy to her shitty behavior.  jerk."

because that's how it feels, so if you feel like that too, just do a comment with some random word.  post anonymously.  no animals.   like "brick" or "tortilla".  not "puppy" or "kinkajou".  thanks.

buy a book, google chrome.  kinkajou is totally a real word.  as is google.

what was my point today?

i completely forgot the point.  here's a few things i probably wanted the point to be:

i wanted to write today, but i didn't,  because i felt too tired.  waking up early sucks.

so i did some tumblr stuff instead.  that's easier and way way more mindless.

i did plan out some of o2 in the shower this morning.  i think i have the main details done, and a lot of the character motivation.  i need to get it down so i don't forget, but the themes are easy.

i hate writing "and then did the same to the MONKEY on the other side."  this technical shit is hard to make not suck.  "annie PIROUETTES sammy's left CARBOXYLIC until it PURPLES like a TENEMENT" those are all apparently real words, so i'm sorry if it doesn't make sense.  if anyone reads o1 and sees some obvious fix to this stuff, let me know.  i just write what makes sense, and then feel bad about how lame it sounds.


if you were here right now, and said the magic words of "i don't hate you, sammy," i'd probably give you an awkward hug

awkward because i don't hug much, and double awkward because getting hugged by naked people is kind of super weird.

sorry.

EDIT STARTS NOW:

politics.

i was going to warn everyone that i'll probably talk about politics tomorrow.  so.  you know, if you might be against my particular politics, maybe go fuck yourself and go away.  and if you are cool with my political shit, you can ignore if i'm too weird?  i'm pretty sure those are the only groups.  fuckers who should diaf, and people who we might disagree on details, but we probably agree on the big picture stuff.

so tomorrow.  probably a brambly politics thing.  you might be able to guess the details or triggers or whatever.  but, hey, you can see me be all dumb tomorrow.

poop.

fucking fuck.

i went to two grocery stores this weekend, and both times "pop-tarts" were on my list.  both times, i returned home without pop-tarts.  is raspberry a new flavor, or am i just dumb?  i'm leaning to "dumb," but i don't remember ever seeing them before.

i was also going to write today, but got distracted looking at shoes and dresses online with my friend.  so.

i don't know why this part is so so long.  it's all bondage description, i guess.  so if you like boring details on things that it would be great if i could draw, are you in for a fun time!

if not, the next part is a lot of dialogue and moral judgement.  which is also fun. :-/

just had a craving for a pop-tart, and remembered i'd fucked that up again, and wanted to share.  sorry!

this is me telling you how lame i am, and then towards the end, trying to convince you i'm not lame.

let's get "pinned tap you were going to talk about not drunk, you dumb bitch" done first.

1. do people read "you suck" the comic?  please do.  it is well written and well done, and all the characters are realistic, and you would be a better you if you did.  i thought a lot about reblogging that on my tumblr.  then i decided that i post lots of porn, and josh makes money selling porn stuff to people, so maybe he'd not mind that this creepy weirdo reblogged him.
1. or, you know, not, because that's ok, too.
2. see, he has mental issues too, and i read what he writes, and feel so sad, because i get those same feelings all the time.
3. but he's dealing with his alcoholism way better than i am.
1. glug glug glug!
4. anyway.  read that.  it's good.  i'm telling you how good it is with me telling you this right now about the good it is.
1. this specific comic.  izzy points to her feet to signify she's walking instead of flying.  she's wearing clothes.  she tries her best with "feezon za guand!"  i repeated that so many times because it's totally perfect.  i want to give izzy a hug.
2. what was point 2?
3. i wrote more today.  this is working out to be a longer story than i thought.  it's almost all just boring "bondage description" shit.  i think people like that stuff, because it's more "this is tied up like that".  but honestly, it's a lot of how sammy is tied up.  i like it less and less as i write more and more.
1. but once i write the main part, there's not really any way to stop the follow-on stuff.
2. the story writes itself in my dreams and half-waking dreams.  i could probably try to change things, but if my brain pushes things one way, how would i counter act that?
4. i'm pretty sure there were four points, but i forgot 2, and now i'm sitting here thinking that part 4 involved birds in some way.  like you can make birds do something. 

if you see this, congratulations, as i'm probably deleting it as nonsense tomorrow.

sorry for being weird.

please shoot me in the face

if i ever use the phrase, "to the fuckmoon and back."

who wants a stupid dream story that doesn't make much sense?

too bad.

--

i'm going out to a bar.  there aren't many people inside, but i make my way up to the bartender, and although i know what i want, i don't know the names of anything.  "i saw you had this drink?  it's all pink and fizzy, and i think it has vodka?  maybe cranberries?"  so it's a vodka and cranberry juice with like sprite or something.

"oh, yes, i know what you mean," and he types on the cash register.

"and do you have like fries?" i point to a sign that has cheese and bacon fries on it.  more typing.  i hand him my credit card, and this confuses him.  he goes through the list of cards that are being held for tabs, and then has to find my card, even though i just gave it to him.  he rings it up, i get my card back, and my receipt, which shows he charged my like $40 for "strawberry fizz special" and "super stuffed potato blasts" or similar nonsense.

"here's your water cup," the bartender says as he gestures to the soda machine.  i walk over to that, and try to find the water option.  i find it, clearly labeled as the alternate option for "hershey's chocolate sauce {ONLY AVAILABLE WITH VANILLA CUP}"  apparently in dream world, if you have a water cup, you get water, but if you have the "vanilla cup," it shoots out chocolate.  because why not.

also no, because i clearly sat down with a cup of ginger ale.

so i sit at a table and try to hide my obviously-not-water cup from the bartender, who seems to be doing stuff.  there are two people talking at different tables, and i kind of half listen to them while i watch tv.  which is on like tcm, because that's what you show at dream bars.  time passes, and i realize that i've watched an entire movie.  then the other two people start to worry, because the tv switches to a trivia thing, and they don't know the answers.  i say a few, and they're all really confused, because they don't know them.  "this is all about the movie they just showed."

"huh?"  then it switches, and i realize this is all about the movie they showed before that movie, and now i've been sitting in a bar for two movies worth of time.  i look for the bartender, but he's gone.  eventually he comes out from where ever, but now he's drunk, and just sits on the floor crying.

"i'm probably not getting my cheese fries."

--

so i leave, i guess, because i'm suddenly driving, and pulling into the driveway of someone i don't actually know, but i'm supposed to meet a friend here, and the person who owns the house is a friend of her friend.  but there are no other cars in the driveway, so i just back out again, and drive around the corner to try and get something to drink.  i find a convenience store, but it's weird because i know in my head that the driveway and house are on the mainland, but the store is in hawaii.

i park, and go inside.  there is nothing inside except two pop machines and a crowd of people at the counter.  i look at the machines, and while i'm trying to decide between the two, i glance outside to see two guys looking at me while they mess with my bike.

yep.  i have a bicycle now.  just go with it.  also i didn't lock my bike up, because when i went inside, it was a car and i didn't think people would be able to lift it up.

i walk towards the door, they panic and try to take off with my bike, and i run after, nearly grabbing on to the back of the bike.  i shout ahead, and some big guy slams the guy on my bike, and it falls over.  i run up, hop on my bike, and race away.

back to the house.  there are now three new cars in the driveway, so i should be ok now.  for some reason, i open up a door, and ride my bike inside.  i'm all sneaky, waiting for rooms to clear, and then biking through, not at all making "whumpa whumpa whumpa" sounds as i cross rugs and tiles.  eventually i'm lined up for the front door, and when i see the last person turn around, i shoot for it, making it through.

however, going through the door causes the door bell to ring, and i can hear people coming to check.  i run away (bike's gone now, i'm guessing because even in dream land, you can't bike to a door, open the door, go through, and close the door while still being on a bike), and hide behind some bushes.  i reach up to see if i'm hidden, and that's when i wake up.


--

my best guess is that this was a "hey, let's pretend some social situations!" and it just went horribly wrong in my brain.
:(

i didn't take a day off

i should have.

i can feel the depression pushing back.  i kind of wish i was brave enough to just tell a psychiatrist that i want adhd drugs because i think they'd make me more better at things, and that i think being more better would help me not feel like an awful piece of shit all the time.

i kind of wish i was brave enough to go back and talk to a psychiatrist.

so writing is on hold again until i can get time and enough brain happiness to continue.  sorry.

i nearly deleted everything for o1 because i had this thought that Annie is too nice.  "she's kind of a bitch"

"yes, but she's also come to terms with how she feels about sammy."

"but...bitch?"

"she can grow as a person.  we can all learn to be better about what we do, and what we are."

"biiiiiittttcccccchhhhhhhhhhhhhh?"

"that's not a word."

"you're a bitch"

"i'm accepting your angry words and telling you that they do not hurt me anymore, because i have transcended your shame based society."

"also you're fat and ugly, and you have no real friends."

turns out mi is kind of a bitch.

hi. i'm drunk. are you drunk? i'm a lot drunk.

and i should be at work tomorrow.  but it's like 4am right now.  i woke up yesterday at 6am.  dear brain, why are you such a jerk?

so i may just call in tomorrow, "cough cough.  i am sick.  i don't think i can make it in today.  cough cough."

translation:  "cough cough"  humans make this sound, so i'm imitating it to make you think i have the sick.
translation: "i am sick" in the brain.  my brain is so full of corrupt, gross shit, you don't even want to know"
translation: "i don't think i can make it in today." that fucking bitch has ducked out for weeks.  i want a day to sit on my couch and watch shitty daytime tv.  i know we have a schedule, i know we have vendors to vet.  i want to sit down and watch shitty daytime tv while my brain tries to cope with keeping my eyes focused correctly on a single point."
translation: "cough cough" fuck you.  fuck her.  fuck everybody.  i want a day off. :(

changed my mind, i think

it'll be "o1", "o2", "k1", "k2" all of which could probably just be "kind of a long rambly story, parts 1-4.

"o1" is nearly done with the first write, and the things I was going to put into "k1" are now in "o2".  then "k1" is new stuff i came up with this morning when i woke up three hours earlier than my alarm and tried to go back to sleep.  then "k2" is the same "k2" it was yesterday that still needs to be planned better than "that stuff happens".

you probably don't care about secret code names for all the parts.  i just feel like my brain isn't as horribly cluttered as usual, and i want to cram as much progress as i can before it all crumbles apart again.

write write write

i wrote some of "o" today.  it helps that this morning during my "stupid loud jerk truck woke me up at 9, but i'm not getting out of bed until noon" nap/snooze, i finally sorted out the missing bits of "k".  now that i know where that one's going, i could fix the bits of my "o" notes that didn't work right, and start writing it for real.  i suspect "k" may need to be two parts, as there's just too much stuff to get out in one part.  so, "o", "k1", "k2".  then i think "d", which isn't a kinky part, and then i need to sort out how i want the story to progress.