Recently, a fellow sugar baby contacted me for help because one of her SD’s ended up being a jealous stalker; obtaining all of her personal info as blackmail. This spurred me to write out this condensed guide to prevent situations like that one or similar ones from happening again.
1) ALWAYS use a fake name, one that’s not similar to your actual name.
2) DON’T carry any forms of ID’s/cards/anything with your name on it when you see a client, ever. Buy a fake license ID with another name so you can still have an ID to show if you get carded to drink when you’re with a sugar daddy. It is illegal to carry certain states fake ID’s, so be careful of which you buy and don’t bring it for an escorting client.
3) NEVER park your car where they can see it or in an area where you need their remote or key access to leave the garage.
4) USE DIFFERENT PICTURES than the ones you use on your personal social media. It takes one search on Google reverse image search to blow open your entire front.
5) Have a fake birthday for your SW persona and remember the astrology sign it comes with.
6) Turn off ALL location services and apps, 10 minutes prior to meeting. I’ve been reading some girls have been outted due to certain social media apps now sharing “who’s around you” features.
7) Don’t give out what school or company you work for. Always lie, and tweak it. The point is to throw off their scent so they have a bunch of small lies they can’t piece together.
8) If possible, use a nickname or an ambiguous name on your own personal social media.
9) DO NOT SEND/SELL ANY PHOTOS OR VIDEOS WITH YOUR FACE IN IT. The only facial ones they should be able to access are the ones online that you can easily claim were stolen.
10) USE A WORK NUMBER. Your personal number is attached to a million and one things.
11) Cash is your best friend.
List of information about yourself to fib:
Company you work for
Schools you have attended in the past
Year of graduation
Any information pertaining family members
IMPORTANT: Stalkers have an affinity for remembering what seems like trivial (but important) details to piece together your identity later.
Jason Todd does not have an actual driver’s license. He died before he could ever get one, and when he came back it wasn’t a priority. He walks everywhere or uses his motorcycle and if any police officer stops him, he uses a fake license.
The following list reveals a man whose life, from the time he began killing, significantly revolved around thinking about, planning and executing murder, then engaging in necrophilia and covering up the evidence of his crimes:
He constantly played “mind chess” with people, wherein he prepared dialogue in advance of a social situation so that he would feel in control
He compulsively lied
He bit his nails to the quick
He voraciously consumed detective magazines depicting eroticized females bound, gagged,strangled, and molested by sexual perverts
He was a big fan of junior-ed magazines (showing scanty clad teenage female cheerleaders)
He compulsively stole all manner of items from shops and people
He had a sock obsession; he uncontrollably purchased more socks than needed
He compulsively followed women around at night without their knowledge
He prowled neighborhoods and peered into windows, masturbating as he watched young females undress and go to bed
He sometimes raped women without murdering them
He prepared elaborate ruses using plaster casts, fake crutches, fake mustaches, different hair styles, fake identities, and changed license tags
He carried a murder kit with him in his VW (handcuffs, binding, gloves, masks, ice-pick, flashlight and crowbar)
He removed the passenger seat so he could carry his “cargo” on the floor next to him where he could control it
He drove many miles for long hours in search of prey
He staked out abduction sites and body locations in advance of his murders
He collected flyers and pamphlets containing information about prospective abduction sites
He followed the police reports of his murders in the newspapers and on TV
He took several women on driving dates close to the areas where he discarded the bodies of his murder victims
He constantly topped up the petrol tank of his car to ensure that he would never run out of gas in case he had a victim with him at the time
He was fastidious cleaner (in order to conceal his crimes)
He returned to the locations where he left the corpses of his victims, often interfering with them
He took polaroids of his victims and kept them in a shoebox so he could masturbate to them afterwards
He decapitated at least five heads of his victims post-mortem, transported them to a new location where he discarded them
In Utah he appeared to change his M.O. insinuating himself into the life of at least one victim before abducting, raping, and murdering her
From “Ted Bundy: A Visual Timeline” by Rob Dielenberg pg. 28-29
1. I can carve almost anything into the end of a crayon: William Shakespeare, the Statue of Liberty,Gordon Ramsaywearing a fez. Anything!
2. I am definitely a nocturnal creature. I am not a morning person.
3. I currently wear a baseball cap with cross-eyes stitched on the front. It really creeps people out.
4. I like hats. It was an early ambition of mine to be a hat designer.
5. I can’t tell time on analog clocks. The purpose of the big hand and the little hand has never come naturally to me.
6. I’ve never attempted any extreme sports, and I consider running short distances an extreme sport.
7. I am an ambassador for the children’s charity Starlight.
8. My guilty pleasures are Costco pizza and watching The Joy of Painting with Bob Ross.
I wanted to be an ice cream man when I was younger. So when I was
finally old enough to get my driver’s license, I bought an ice cream
truck. In hindsight, it wasn’t the most practical first vehicle.
10. I carried the torch for the London 2012 Olympic Games. And now I use it to store pens.
11. My phone screen saver is a painting of my dog.
12. My dog is named after Audrey II from Little Shop of Horrors.
13. I stole Harry Potter’s door number from his house on Privet Drive.
14. My nickname used to be “Poop” because it sounds like “Rupe.”
15. My favorite artist is David Shrigley.
16. My lucky charm is a fake Cher driver’s license.
17. When I was 5, my school asked me to write to media mogul
Rupert Murdoch to ask for a donation to fix the pool, their logic being,
as we shared a first name, he’d feel more personally invested. It was
18. My favorite book is Rant by Chuck Palahniuk.
19. I like to watch Bollywood movies.
20. My karaoke song is anything by Oasis.
21. My favorite television shows are Brass Eye and The OA.
22. The best thing I own is a musical Alessi kettle.
23. While I was filming Snatch on a street in England, a guy gave me a five-pack of socks that he designed.
24. I want to visit Canada to see a narwhal. I’m not sure they exist until I see one.
I want a complete tour of the Cullen home, specifically this cabinet in the garage. Carlisle just strolls in there and starts taking out fistfuls of cash, like… wait, what else is in there?? Is this The Stash of various types of currency, fake IDs, license plates for various states, etc? All ready to go in case of emergency, i.e. Somebody Accidentally Ate a Classmate?
Just imagine for a second: some giggling couple of teenagers sneaks out here to make out during the graduation party in Eclipse and discovers The Stash 😄
In his last moments, Dean sees his life flash before his eyes which is how he knows that this time it will stick, knows it’s for good and there’s no coming back from this one.
In truth, he doesn’t actually see his life but feels it. He’s overwhelmed by a sense of accomplishment and he associates it to every time he took care of Sammy when they were children, got them through the night, got his kid brother to laugh instead of ask questions. He associates it with the first time he shot a firearm and his dad called him a natural. The first time he saved a life. The first time he saved the world. The first time he made Cas come.
A wave of joy hits him after that. Prank wars with Sam. Antics with Charlie. Driving Baby. His first lazy Sunday with Cas. Every lazy Sunday with Cas after that.
With his dying breath, Dean smells motor oil and pie and sex and honey and it all smells good. It smells perfect melded together, though it shouldn’t, and if it were bottled the label would read Life of Dean Winchester. He doesn’t smell blood or burning flesh or sulfur.
He hears his favourite tune along with Cas’ clumsy mumble and Sam’s off key singing.
Dean feels his life slip away with all his senses—save for sight. That’s not to say he doesn’t see anything. He sees tree twigs that look big in the chubby hands of children, he sees long dark hair he hasn’t encountered before, a stone path and a bed of sunflowers and the sight of an ugly yellow backpack in Baby’s backseat. He doesn’t remember any of these things, not really, but he still somehow recognises them. They feel like memories, like they belong to him.
Dean’s last thought is of the botanical garden Cas had wanted—insisted on—them going to. Dean didn’t care much for it but agreed because he wasn’t one to deny Cas anything. Still, it took them years to find the time to make the trip.
Sam decided to come along because there’s a library in the area that has a whole section on South American lore, something the bunker was lacking. He was essentially crashing their date so Sam offered shotgun to Cas.
He was a little cramped in the backseat and had to angle his body sideways to make room for his legs, but when Dean’s hand wasn’t on the gear shift it was in Cas’ so Sam didn’t mind so much.
Halfway there they got the call that lead the brothers to their final case. To this final moment where Dean’s only regret is that he doesn’t get the chance to be led around between patches of green by Cas as the angel prattles on about one fact or another.
It’s not like Cas didn’t know it would happen eventually, inevitably, but he thought he’d be the first to go. He’s the immortal one, and the Winchesters had a knack for surviving.
Still, knowing that something is going to happen, knowing that Sam and Dean would not live forever even though it felt like they should, doesn’t prepare him at all.
Sam and Dean go out like they always promised they would. Fighting. It’s an honourable death but what is the point of an honourable death, Cas wonders, when your loved ones are lost to you.
He drives the impala back to the bunker. He could have flown it but that didn’t feel right. He gets pulled over once and he thinks the officer takes pity on him. Cas can imagine what he looks like, the blue of his puffy eyes contrasting with the veiny red, hair looking like it’s been tugged at—because it has— his chapped gnawed-at lower lip stained red from iron-tasting blood.
He doesn’t make it to the bed he shares with Dean. He pretends it’s because the bedroom is too far down the hall and he’s so tired, but it’s because he can’t bear the sight of it. He stumbles—he is exhausted—into a random room, sheds his trench coat halfway to the bed before he lands on it. Or lands on something on the bed.
SUPERNATURAL by Carver Edlund
It’s the room Charlie would stay in, he knows now. He doesn’t mean to, but he ends up cracking open the book and reading all about the first time Sam and Dean came across the croatoan virus.
It’s the real Dean; the depiction is accurate and these are real events from the hunter’s life, but it’s not really Dean. It grows the already too wide hole inside of Cas. He can’t bring Dean back. But he can’t be without him. So Cas leaves to meet versions of Dean he hasn’t come across before, versions of Dean even Chuck didn’t take the time to write about.
Dean is three, almost four, when Cas, invisible, appears in the boy’s Lawrence home. Dean is kneeling on the sofa beside a pregnant Mary who tells him that it’s ok to touch.
“It’s your little brother in there, Dean,” she says.
Dean purses his still thin lips, scratches a hair full of hair that’s only blond like Mary’s in the summer, and says, “That’s where Daddy put him?”
Mary chokes a little when she laughs and moves into a tamed explanation of the birds and the bees.
Cas doesn’t listen; his eyes are peeled on Dean. This little boy who has no idea he’ll one day save a dying sun. This little boy that scrunches his face just like his Dean does, that shakily places a hand on his mother’s belly all false bravado, that has freckles splayed across his cheeks.
All Cas wants to do is to move closer. Is to stare. Is to see if three year-old Dean has all the freckles his Dean has or if some appeared with time. All Cas wants is to hold this boy. To tell him he’s perfect. To tell him he is loved. Cas can’t do any of these things.
He decides that’s unacceptable.
At eight Dean already knows how to shoot a firearm, so when the kids in his class want to pretend the sticks they find along the fence of the school lot are guns, he’s happy that one boy wants to stack twigs as high as he can instead.
Every recess, Dean looks for a pair of blue eyes and the darkest hair on the playground and the two go off together. Cas—though Dean calls him Scottie in this vessel—recounts to Dean these wild stories about a pair of heroes, and they run around reenacting them.
In this town, Dean doesn’t mind so much that he’s responsible for getting Sam and himself home to the motel. He doesn’t mind that his dad doesn’t pick them up like all the other kids’ dads do, because Dean gets to linger around the school and hang out with one of his first real friends.
One day, maybe two weeks since Dean transferred to this school, Dean says, “You can be the righteous man this time.” It’s awesome that Scottie always lets him play the hero but Dean doesn’t mind trading.
Cas shakes his head. “It has to be you, Dean.”
At twelve Dean has seen more horror than most men twice his age, than men thrice his age, so when his new teacher asks Dean why he won’t just apply himself, Dean has a biting retort ready at the tip of his tongue.
Another kid in class speaks up first. Her name is Olive, an army brat that transferred in February just like Dean. She’ll probably get to finish the year here, Dean thinks. He knows he, on the other hand, won’t be around next week.
Cas uses Olive’s voice to rebel for Dean and tells the teacher to promptly fuck off.
Dean laughs, loud and rambunctious, a type of laugh he hasn’t had since Sammy started asking so many questions, then says, “Yeah, sweetheart,” with his trademark-to-be smirk directed at the professor.
Dean gets more than a full week at the school. They end up staying long enough, a solid two months, that John rents a trailer for them. He’s in detention almost every day but it’s okay because so is Olive.
They’re often left alone, so they get up to no good. Trolling the halls of the school after hours, setting up pranks and playing games. Dean thinks Olive must be really smart, must really know how to get inside people’s heads, because she always knows where he stashes himself when they play hide-and-seek. Or maybe she’s just good at looking for things. Or maybe she’s just good at finding Dean.
It’s very Breakfast Club and Olive is the Molly Ringwald to his Judd Nelson. Or maybe not because she’s not much of a princess and all Rebel. Maybe, with her, Dean doesn’t feel quite as angry as Bender anyway.
Until he is twenty nine, Dean will remember her as his first crush.
At fifteen, Dean is already a ladies man so he’s kissed a lot of pretty girls, but it’s his first time kissing a pretty boy. His hair is blond and curly (Dean wants to wrap a ringlet around his finger immediately.) and his eyes are blue and bright.
Cas introduces himself to Dean as Noah and they hit it off almost instantly. Noah is the furthest thing from every teenage stereotype Dean’s encountered through hopping from one school to the next. Noah knows too much about everything, more than a fifteen year old should know about anything. He speaks almost methodically and always with intent, and Dean likes that he talks to him more than anyone else.
They hang out in the patch of woods behind the high school and they talk about nonsense but sometimes they talk about things Dean wouldn’t tell another living soul. Things Dean usually doesn’t even dare to think about too loudly in case he taints his surroundings with his personal strand of sick.
Dean thinks Noah’s smile is too wide and earnest to corrupt. Like this boy could take Dean on, bruises and flaws and all.
Sometimes, they don’t talk at all. Dean just sits at the foot of a tree, arms resting on bent knees, and watches Cas watch the plants around them. Cas tells Dean about the different flowers, he picks up ladybugs on his finger tips, and he grins all the while. Dean watches.
John leaves them the impala for emergencies when he goes off on solo hunts now, opting instead for a stolen vehicle. Dean isn’t of age yet but it’s not like he doesn’t have a fake license and it’s not like he didn’t learn to drive years ago, so when Cas brings up the famed botanical garden in Athens, Georgia, just a two towns over, Dean only needs to be cajoled a little to agree to go.
Mostly he wants to see what Noah looks like in the only home he’s known. He looks good. He looks ethereal, with the sun filtering in through Baby’s window, illuminating the boy’s light hair like a halo.
At the garden, Dean allows himself to get dragged around and at first he only really listens to Cas because he likes the sound of his voice, deeper than his appearance suggests. Eventually, though, he listens because Cas tells him things like oak trees are struck by lightning more than any other tree and carrots were originally purple, you know? Dean didn’t know.
Cas is talking about the bees now, about how it’s all there, the whole plan, about how there’s nothing to add. They’re by a bed of sunflowers, tall enough to shade them from the sun, when Dean decides he doesn’t want to hear Cas talk anymore. When he gently places a hand on the blond boy’s elbow to turn him. So that they’re facing each other. So that they’re leaning in. So that their lips brush and press. So that tongues can meet and take and taste.
Noah tastes like honey and something nutty.
John packs them up the very next day. He’s back and he’s got a lead, and he doesn’t allow Sam or Dean to say bye to any of their friends. Dean scolds himself. He should know better by now than to want things he can’t have.
Dean’s first solo hunt isn’t exactly pre-approved by his father. In fact, Dean sneaks off to pursue the case. He’s freshly turned nineteen, has a GED in his back pocket and no prospects other than the family business. He’s not like Sam who could do so much more, be so much more, not that Dean thinks Sam would ever leave them.
Dean figures if hunting is going to be his career he’s going to have to strike off on his own, eventually. The case he tracks down is supposed to be an easy salt ‘n burn but quickly turns into a multi-haunting situation. Which is where he meets Cas for the umpteenth time, only this time Cas goes by Dylan.
She’s the town’s minister’s daughter, old enough to need convincing to let Cas in but devout enough that it doesn’t take much. He pretends she’s a hunter, showing up at the house Dean is scanning for EMF, as though she’d stumbled on the same case.
Dean might have tried to blow her off, this is his hunt, but Dylan is hot with long, dark, brown hair that’s only a shade lighter than her eyes. Besides, the pair work really well together; it’s uncanny. If Dean didn’t know any better he’d think this wasn’t their first time teaming up.
Once the box of antique gems is salted and burned, Dean wants to take her out, wants to take her to bed, on some level he doesn’t totally comprehend, he wants to take her home.
The Dylan vessel isn’t as strong as the others, however, too far from the Novak bloodline to withstand the toll of containing an angel and his grace. So when Dean proposes they have a drink for a job well done, Castiel turns him down.
In his life, Dean falls in love exactly twice and it’s always with Cas. The first time, he calls him Cassie Robinson.
Cas is selfish and wants to keep Dean, like this, naked in the bed of his vessel’s dorm room, forever. But Dean needs to get going, needs to get Sam from Stanford, needs to start on the path that will land him in hell just so Cas can raise him from it. Just so Dean can pull him from heaven. Just so they can be together, really be together, where they’ll always belong.
It surprises Cas, when Dean opens up about hunting, when he tells Cassie all about the life, all about the family business. It breaks Cas’ heart to break Dean’s, to pretend like he doesn’t believe the hunter’s confessions, to pretend like what he wants is for Dean to leave.
Cas only watches after that. He can’t risk interacting with both Winchesters, can’t risk Time and Space and the Continuum. Sometimes he thinks it’s more torturous than if he’d stayed in the bunker. Looking and never touching, never talking, never being seen, it chips away at him.
He caves in small doses. He takes over the vessel of a sheriff, of a pathologist, of a mechanic selling parts. They’re brief encounters, mostly case-related, but charged with something Dean can never name.
Dean is twenty-nine and Hell bound when Cas serves him a beer at a dingy bar.
“Something stronger after this,” Dean pauses to read the name tag. “Casey,” he finishes, looking into the familiar blue eyes of the bartender. He double checks the tag, thinking maybe it’ll read Scottie, or Scott he supposes. The man’s name is Casey.
Cas raises a brow at him and Dean feels properly chastised.
Dean takes him back to his motel, more grateful than ever that he took the week away from Sam, and Cas lets him. Cas thought brief encounters would be enough, but he was wrong. They’re not. Cas is always going to need more.
It’s Dean’s first time with a man and it’s not what he’s imagined over the years but it’s exactly what he expects from Casey. Casey, who tastes like peanuts and something sweet. His calm nature at the bar translates into the way the man opens him up slow and deliberate. It has Dean ready to come before a condom is even rolled on.
The way Cas slips into him is slow too, too slow for Dean. Dean is angry and afraid and he knows it’s only going to get worse. He knows he’s going to hell. Knows what he’ll become there.
He tries to goad Cas into being rougher, into slamming into him harder, into getting Dean to hurt a little so that he doesn’t drown inside himself.
Cas knows what Dean is doing of course, and it’s not what the man needs. If there’s one thing Cas knows it’s how to take care of Dean Winchester.
Turns out, Dean doesn’t need pain to lose himself that night. The languid but hard drag of Cas’ cock inside him, the murmured words against his spine, the firm press of a hand between his shoulder blades, it all takes Dean somewhere else.
Dean hadn’t been touched like this, this tenderly with so much care, since Cassie, but he’s been needing to be touched just like this for years. He feels starved for it and Casey keeps giving and giving.
Dean doesn’t realise he’s about to come until he’s already coming. It’s the best—it’s the best orgasm he’s ever had, though not the best he’ll ever have, which makes sense because it’s the first time Cas fucks him.
It knocks the wind out of his chest but Dean still manages to whine out a Case , the nickname he’d chosen for Casey earlier in the night.
If Cas tries hard enough, he can almost hear Dean saying his real name instead.
They go again an hour later, after a heated discussion about something Cas knows riles Dean up, and then again in the morning before a nap. Cas doesn’t sleep but when Dean slips out of bed he pretends to.
He also pretends he doesn’t know why he does it, but it’s definitely because he doesn’t know how to say goodbye to Dean again, one final time. Cas doesn’t want to.
Dean dies for the first time a few weeks after that.
Four months later he meets Castiel. The angel feels so familiar which is maybe why he decides to trust him so quickly, but Dean doesn’t remember any iteration of Cas he’s met up until then. Cas left those memories in the pit, to keep from jeopardising the future. Everything they do, always for the greater good.
Cas doesn’t know what to do with himself anymore. He’s borrowed too much time from Dean’s youth and he can’t interact with him now that Dean has met him, really met him. Cas is alone. He doesn’t see that ever changing.
Dean dies for the last time at forty-two.
His most prominent regret, ridiculously enough because Dean has made greater mistakes in his life than this, is that he doesn’t get the chance to be led around at the garden Cas has raved about. Cas had mentioned sunflowers in the garden once, almost shyly as opposed to how he spoke about all the other exhibits. Dean thinks Cas’ tone meant that he wants to be kissed there. Dean plans to kiss him there. He dies thinking that he never will, doesn’t remember that he already has.
Andrew Minyard never met the original Butcher of Baltimore, but if he was anything like his son, Andrew understands the fanatical devotion.
Neil doesn’t elicit the same kind of loyalty, mostly; the only people devoted to him are Jean and Kevin. Andrew, too, if you’re counting people who are paid to be.
Andrew gets it, though. Neil is all poorly concealed confidence, simultaneously raring for a fight and backing away from a punch, shirtless whenever he can be just to remind his father’s people of who he is. It’s the same reason he’s never gotten rid of that brand on his face. He could afford to; he pays Andrew more than enough.
Neil is sitting across the room now. He’s not very good at sitting still: he always looks like he’s either on the start line of a marathon or about to throw a punch. Even when he’s negotiating through some unsavory business or other, he doesn’t look like he’s all the way there.
“What?” Neil says.
Andrew doesn’t respond. He looks back down at his computer, poring over a message board on one of the most useful sites on the Dark Web—for him, anyway.
“Someone in Wilmington wants to hire me,” Andrew tells Neil. “A quick job. Should only take me an hour or two.”
“Is it a Robin Hood one, or are you trying to negotiate a raise? Because you know Kevin handles all of that, and he says I can't—”
“Don’t worry,” Andrew says, responding to the post. “I don’t need more money.”
“Oh,” Neil says. “Good. When?”
They say Andrew’s mark will be alone in his house all weekend. Andrew needs to stock up on ammo and sharpen his knives, but otherwise, he’s ready to go.
“I need to borrow your car,” Andrew says.
Neil’s car is a blue 2015 Honda Accord. There are probably a million more just like it in Delaware. Andrew’s probably cost at least five times as much and sticks out like a sore thumb everywhere. It’d be faster, but it might draw unwanted attention.
“You have fake plates?”
Andrew nods. He has a few fake licenses, too. It’s good to be prepared.
“I’ll go Saturday after I take King to the vet.”
“I can take her,” Neil says. “Earlier you get to Delaware, earlier you get back, right? Unless you want me to come?”
Neil really is irritating. Smug, too.
“As I’ve repeatedly told you, I want nothing.”
“Right,” Neil says. He’s smiling. Andrew can’t stand him. “Of course. Let me know if you change your mind.”
- the losers had been saving up for MONTHS to get seven tickets to a baseball game in Boston. they all did odd jobs around town like mowing lawns, walking dogs, and some babysitting. Stan got a job at the local diner, Bev did the books at little league baseball games, and Bill and Mike split a paper route. everyone decided Ben should keep track of the money, so at the end of every week they would count it all up and Ben would take it home.
-after two months of hard work, the losers had finally saved enough money for tickets and the road trip to Boston!! eddie and mike, the best drivers, had been designated to drive, and richie had already called shotgun a month in advance
-the day before the game, they loaded mike’s truck with blankets, pillows, a cooler of drinks and snacks, thier overnight bags, richie’s transistor radio ( and lots of extra batteries ) and a deck of cards, then set out for Boston around four in the afternoon
-five minutes into the drive bill realized he left the ticket money at home and they had to turn around
-bev and richie have to pee once an hour and it pisses the others off
-they take turns with who gets to sit in the bed of the truck. bill and stan called first dibs, eddie, richie, and ben called seconds, and bev and mike called last. bill and stan laid down and watched clouds, stan naming the birds that passed overhead, bill telling him about the Boston Red Sox players and the baseball season so far, all the while their fingers tangled together. eddie fell asleep instantly when it was his, ben’s, and richie’s turn. richie and ben talked music, their favorite guests on American Bandstand and how cool Elvis Presley was. eddie woke up due to richie’s extremely loud rendition of “Jailhouse Rock” in his best Elvis voice. when it came to bev and mike’s turn they shared a pepsi and a payday bar.
-around 8 o’clock they were all begging eddie to pull over for supper, and finally stan spotted a roadside diner. eddie threw the steering wheel to the left, fed up with (mostly richie’s) everyone’s complaining, throwing all of the losers against poor ben and squishing him against the window.
-the loser’s club ate like kings and queens, full of french fries, cheeseburgers, milkshakes, and banana splits.
-after dinner, they drove to a small motel that ben had circled on the map and went inside with all of their belongings. bev has a fake license that says she’s 18, so they got a room for the night. bev had one of the seniors at the high school make the fake license for her so she could get away from her father once in a while.
-bev gets her own bed, and the six boys play rock paper scissors for the bed left, the two winners sharing. stan and mike end up winning. bill, eddie, richie, and ben play rock paper scissors for the fold out couch, ben and bill winning, leaving richie and eddie to sleep on the floor. richie winked at eddie and eddie threw his pillow at richie.
-they played cards for HOURS and the staff had to visit their room twice because every time anyone but richie won, richie would complain LOUDLY
-beverly is the queen of kemps and destroys anyone who even tries
-eddie went to sleep first and everyone soon followed, but stan kept everyone up an extra twenty minutes because he kept dropping everything in the shower
-richie farts in his sleep and it wakes eddie up every time
-bill turns over literally every ten minutes and it drives ben crazy
-in the morning everyone is woken up because stan turned over and knocked richie’s radio off the bedside table and Buddy Holly started playing at max volume
-everyone loaded up in the truck and mike drove to the closest filling station. that morning, the losers had pepsi and hersheys for breakfast.
-after two more hours of driving, it was nine am and they had arrived at the glorious Fenway park. richie stuck his head out of the window and marveled at the massive structure. ben, just below richie, had his mouth hung open, admiring the towering stadium.
-richie immediately starts in on his baseball announcer voice
-bill now owes bev fifty cents because they had a bet about when richie would start with the baseball announcer voice. bill said he wouldn’t start until they got their spots in the park, bev said the second he saw the stadium.
-bill and richie got out of the car to go buy the seven tickets while mike and the others found somewhere to park. The game itself wouldn’t start until that night, but they wanted to get to the area as soon as they could.
-bill told richie to let him do the talking, but of course, richie opened his mouth and they almost didnt get their tickets, but bill got them in the end
-mike, beverly, eddie, ben, and stan ran to the crowded ticket booth and spotted richie and bill. “THERE” eddie screamed and pointed and they all ran and almost killed big bill and richie. they all wanted to hold their own ticket, so bill gave them to everyone and said he’d kill anyone who lost theirs
-they didn’t want to blow the rest of their money while waiting for the game, so mike drove all the losers around through the city to spots their folks had told them about. once they got lost in Little Italy and eddie had to drive to get them out.
-when it was finally time, they parked their car and walked to the game and went to their seats on the third base line. they sat beverly, ben, eddie, richie, stan, bill, and mike on the end. the second they sat down, richie declared that he was hungry, so mike offered to go with him to get food and everyone piped up and told them what they wanted.
-as they walked to the concession stop, richie kept making annoyingly loud comments and imitations of the locals accents, despite mike’s efforts to shut him up. mike slapped richie’s shoulder to shut him up once and richie went toppling over, knocking over a trashcan in the process.
-richie ordered all of the hamburgers, french fries, ice creams, snow cones, and sodas, and they were able to balance and hold all of the food and make it back to their seats.
-bill and stan are the ones who dip their french fries in ice cream and it makes the others cringe
-the game starts and when they stand for the National Anthem, everyone starts singing and richie keeps messing up the words very LOUDLY
-the baseball game starts and all of the losers watch in amazement of the talent and power that was the Boston Red Sox.
-the concession seller came around with a box full of peanut bags on his shoulder and yelling “GETcha peaaaNUTS ‘ere for teeeEEEN CENTS!!!” and richie jumped out of his seat and slipped into an imitation of the man’s voice. stan and eddie literally had to pull him down and bill had to cover his mouth to keep him from getting into a fight.
-between the fourth and fifth inning the organist played a happy tune and richie joked that bev should dance on top of the dugout to “please the crowd.” so bev said she wouldn’t do it alone, then mike said he would go. the losers cheered and shoved them out of their seats, and then mike and beverly ran down the stairs and started dancing together on top of the opposing team’s dugout, the losers and other surrounding people cheering them on.
-they literally almost got kicked out of the whole baseball game
-richie ate six ice cream cones and threw up in a cup
-stan ate so many blue raspberry snowcones that his tongue and teeth turned blue
-bill brought his baseball glove to the game and every time a there was a pop up into the stands bill would shoot out of his seat and do everything he possibly could to get the ball. on the second pop up he finally caught it despite everyone around him trying to get it too. it made him sooo happy and he had the biggest grin on his face for the rest of the night
-in the last inning the score was tied, so everytime someone of the opposing team was on base richie would scream inappropriate comments at them. “HEY THERE NUMBER 32, YEAH, YOU, IS THAT YOUR WIFE WEARING A BIKINI IN LEFT FIELD??” stan and eddie have to pull him down and shut his mouth so the people sitting behind him don’t beat him up
-the whole building was on edge and quiet as the tie breaker came up to the plate. mike, bill, and stan were standing up and huddled close together. bill had his arms around mike and stan’s shoulders. richie, eddie, ben and beverly were also standing, richie had his hands crossed on the back of his head with his elbows in the air, and eddie had his hands clasped together under his chin. ben clung to eddie’s shoulder and beverly had both of her hands on ben’s arm. every one of the losers was silent until the ball hit the bat with a KEEERACK and was sent sailing over the field and everyone went INSANE
-after everyone finished jumping, hugging, and screaming people started to file out, but bill went down to the dugout and got as many players as he could to sign the ball he caught.
-richie insisted he got another ice cream cone despite throwing up, so they all got a vanilla ice cream cone, then walked back to the car.
-the seven of the the losers club piled into the bed of mike’s truck and licked their ice cream cones, looking up at the massive, wonderful Fenway Park until the last light on the field went out.
What are some of Fall's favorite TFC fics? :) Have a nice day/night <3
Thank you babe, I’m actually planning on releasing a staff fave list soon along with the new staff’s recs as well, but for the meantime here’s a couple that I really enjoyed that didn’t make it onto my final list -Fall
“I’m from a school that specializes in teaching kids with certain… gifts,” the stranger said, motioning to Neil with the thin file he held in his hand.
It sounded rehearsed, and the gruff voice he used didn’t help to calm Neil. He was found out, he wasn’t being careful enough. He could almost feel his mother’s hands gripping his hair and thrashing him about, beating him for being an idiot. He should’ve used a lighter, he knew better. His fingers grazed his jeans pocket where he kept his fake driver’s license, a packet of cigarettes, and a pillbox.
Life needs to be like the movies. I need to be able to go into a bathroom stall at school, leave some money and a photo in some hidden brick in the wall, and come back the next day to pick up a fake ID.
That way I could go with my best friend to see Connor Christian at a club Saturday.
reading The Dream Thieves again and i cant believe,,, i passed up the opportunity to make a joke about “One hundred white Mitsubishis” with Taio Cruz’s TEDtalk about his fucking Lamborghinis but the youtube poop one.
“With only ONE HUNDRED mitsubishis in his mitsubishi account. and only TWO DOZEN fake licenses in his fake licenses account.“
Summary: Taehyung teaches Jungkook a new kind of worship in the house of God.
A/N:i’m so sorry
“We gather here today to remember the life…” Taehyung heard from the front of the room, but all sound was soon drowned out by the ringing echo in his ears from his yawn and the watering of his eyes. He looked around at all the friends and family members that sat with tears in their eyes, their hands absolutely glued to the white off-brand tissues provided by the church. He scoffed to himself as he recognized some of those who were upset by the death of his very distant cousin, knowing there wasn’t a way in hell they even knew the guy. Taehyung sighed as he situated in his spot in the fifth row of pews, feeling his butt already grow numb from the lack of padding, not understanding how people can attend church for hours on end sitting in these uncomfortable things.
The ‘room’, as Taehyung called it, (he’d never been to a church, before, so he didn’t know the proper word) reminded him of what would have been considered elegant in the late 80′s. The pews were a mid-colored wood, the seats padded with red velvet, as was the floor, and the walls were made of red brick. To the right, in the back corner of the ‘room’ was a black grand piano as well as a podium of some sort, which he guessed is where the projector and music was powered from. On top of it was a black mic on a short stand accompanied by some of the plants that were offered to the grieving family. A few feet in front of the piano, alongside the wall, was a door that led to a small hallway, but no one was ever allowed to go through because offices were located there. The left wall was pretty bland other than a stain-glass window that ran the length of the wall to the ceiling with an image of Mary and baby Jesus, which was put in an inconvenient place since the light was shining directly into Taehyung’s eyes, making him squint the entire time he had been sitting there.
He didn’t know his cousin–he never even met him once. Maybe they ran into each other or exchanged looks at those huge family reunions everyone had where you had all sorts of relatives you didn’t know existed, but he wouldn’t know the difference. He didn’t even know his name until the priest said it in the opening speech.
“Hey, are you alright?” a voice asked coming from his direct right and felt a comforting hand rest on his thigh, which shook Taehyung out of his thoughts.
He turned his attention to his boyfriend of three years, Jeon Jungkook. He could never get tired of looking at his huge, brown doe eyes and the wrinkles that accompanied the edge of them, his big (but adorable) nose, his bunny-like smile that shone like the sun, and his dark brown hair that complimented his skin well. He always looked younger than he actually was, making going out a hassle as they would constantly get pulled aside by security and have their I.D.s checked. Once it was so bad, they actually called the cops thinking Jungkook was an underage with a fake license, and almost spent a night in jail and had to pay a fine.
They met in college, like any typical couple in their early twenties, and Taehyung could never get tired of telling the story. Jungkook’s grandmother was a worker in the cafe, and he occasionally helped when he had the free time since she wasn’t aging very well, and for the free food. Taehyung had gotten back from a party and went downstairs to get something sweet, something he couldn’t resist ever since he was a child–banana creme pudding. He wasn’t drunk enough to see double vision, but it was enough to effect his walking, and as he entered the cafe, he just so happened to bump into a boy his age carrying a large cargo of products, which just so happened to be banana creme pudding. Since that day, he got pudding every single night, hoping to bump into Jungkook, until one day he came to Taehyung’s dorm, giving him an entire crate full of banana creme pudding.
It was something so silly that Taehyung could never forget it, and something he certainly didn’t expect to turn into something as beautiful as his life with Jungkook.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he responded with a sigh, throwing an arm around the younger and crossing his legs in comfort. “Just bored as hell.”
Jungkook sat forward as his eyes widened at Taehyung, squeezing his thigh. “Tae, don’t curse in church. It’s bad enough two gays are in here…” he trailed off as he searched around to see if anyone was giving them unwanted attention, but thankfully they were all focused on the service.
“Or what? I’ll go to hell?” Taehyung asked with emphasis on hell as he raised his eyebrow with a smirk on his face. “I think we’ve both already established that.”
Jungkook sighed and looked forward, trying his best to pay attention to the funeral service for the sake of the people around him, but the whole thing was boring to him. Normally, he’d feel awful and console those who were effected, but since it didn’t matter to Taehyung, it was like sitting through a boring college lecture that lasted for hours.
“I’m bored, too,” Taehyung responded with a groan.
“I guess we shouldn’t expect anything different from a funeral.”
“Let’s go explore the church,” Taehyung suggested. “People won’t question our leaving, they’ll think we went to a separate area because I’m crying too hard.”
Jungkook bit his lip at the idea of living, knowing it would be a huge disrespect to both the dead and Taehyung’s family, but decided to go along with his idea with the slight nod of his head.
“Okay, let me do this first,” Taehyung whispered with a sigh and began to hold his breath, holding his fist in front of his mouth, and soon tears were spilling out of his eyes like he had just lost his own mother.
“Tae.. Tae are you alright? Why are you crying?” Jungkook panicked, rubbing his hand on his shoulder blades, unsure of what had gotten into his mischievous boyfriend.
He moved his eyes to look at Jungkook with a slight smirk, mouthing the words ‘acting’ before returning to his fake fit, but had Jungkook known any better, his heart would have crushed at the sight of a single tear leaving the older’s eyes.
“Alright, let’s go,” Taehyung whispered, tugging on Jungkook’s hand. His face was red and soaked from the salted tears, like he’d been crying since the second the service started.
He led Jungkook up the pews and out of the ‘room’, keeping up his act until they were free from others as they entered the dimmed rest of the church.
“That was easier than I thought,” Taehyung commented with no crack in his voice, like tears had never even left his eyes.
“Now what?” Jungkook asked, scanning the dark hallway they found themselves in, unsure of where exactly Taehyung planned to go.
The older shrugged, but continued walking forward, eyeing nearby doors as they ventured into the hallway, curious to where each one led. He opened some which led to nurseries, the kitchen, a bathroom, and a small study room, which were all too plain and empty for any sort of entertainment.
They had almost completed a full circle, until they approached a door next to the entrance of the church that had a sign on it to keep out.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Taehyung thought and led Jungkook to it, grasping his wrist with eagerness.
“T-Tae, that says ‘Keep Out’. We shouldn’t intrude..”
“Kook, no one’s going to be in there. Church is on Sunday, today’s Friday. Besides, anyone who is here, is going to be attending the service. We’re fine,” he assured, opening the door that led to the almost pitch black, narrow hallway.
“Is this the hallway that leads to the door where the service is?” Jungkook asked, noticing a small crack of light at the other end of the hallway, hearing parts of the service.
“Probably,” Taehyung responded, feeling his way on the right wall until he found a door and opened it to find a huge table with chairs lining the sides and the ends, almost like a business room.
He let go of Jungkook’s hand as he flicked on the lights, which were surprisingly dim, and sat at the head chair with his legs crossed at the ankles on top of the table. Jungkook rolled his eyes and chuckled at the thought of Taehyung ever being a businessman.
“You’re so silly, babe,” he joked, leaning against the white wall with his arms folded across his chest.
“That’s Taehyung to you,” Taehyung snapped with the pitch of his voice dropping a bit, causing Jungkook’s breath to hitch. “Sit down,” he ordered, pointing to the end chair opposite of him.
He chuckled at the younger’s obedience and rose from his seat, slowly walking around the side of the table, dragging his left hand across the edge of the table as he approached Jungkook, not taking his eyes off him for a second as he licked his lips a little too sinister for the place they were in.
“You know, Jungkook,” he started, walking behind him and massaging his shoulders, instantly melting into Taehyung’s skilled, slightly tanned hands. “There’s a story about how mankind started. Do you know that story? About Adam and Eve?”
“Mmm..” he responded, unable to form words as Taehyung took him to absolute relaxation.
“If we were them, I wouldn’t be able to resist you. Imagine how long and how many times I would fuck you, all alone, with no one to interrupt us…” he whispered into Jungkook’s ear, sending shivers down his spine as he felt Taehyung’s breath on his neck and shell of his ear.
“T-Taehyung… we’re in a ch-church…” he mumbled, feeling his mind begin to cloud as he relaxed more and more and felt his dark wash jeans begin to tighten.
“Is that a bulge I see growing down there?” he growls, running one of his hands down the younger’s clothed chest. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, and you’re scolding me for thinking this way in church.”
Taehyung leans over and runs his hand down to the tent growing in Jungkook’s pants, drawing a moan from his throat as his head fell back into the crease of Taehyung’s neck as he began kissing and sucking on Jungkook’s neck, making the heat in the pit of the younger’s stomach take over his rational thoughts.
“Taehyung, please…” he begged, grabbing onto some of his boyfriend’s hair and tugging on it, feeling his smile on his neck.
“Please what?” he asked teasingly.
“T-Touch me…” Jungkook moaned as he gripped the sides of his chair, creating newfound scratches on the arm rests.
“Table. Now,” Taehyung demanded, and Jungkook quickly rose, sitting on the edge of the table to face Taehyung who was biting his plump bottom lip with lust in his dark brown eyes.
Jungkook supported himself with his hands as Taehyung unbuttoned his jeans, wrapping his hands around the back of Jungkook’s sides to completely remove them and his boxers, watching as as the younger’s already hardened dick sprung onto his stomach.
“Hard for me already,” Taehyung growled before taking Jungkook’s full length into his mouth, causing the younger to almost lose his grip on the table.
He looked up into the younger’s eyes, watching his face contort into several looks of pleasure as Taehyung’s tongue played along his shaft and his mouth tightened as he moved up and down, using his hand to massage the base. His thighs were trembling as Taehyung deep throated his dick, not choking or resisting for a second, like he’d been doing it for quite some time.
“Fuck this feels good, Tae,” Jungkook moaned, tilting his head back in bliss.
“Turn around,” he grunted, removing his mouth and causing Jungkook to whine from the void Taehyung’s mouth left him, but was taken aback by pleasure once again when he felt a finger at his entrance and winced with both pain and pleasure as it entered him.
“You’re always so tight for me, baby,” Taehyung growled, adding another finger coated in his saliva, scissoring them and stretching Jungkook as he moaned, no longer feeling slight pain.
He heard the undoing of a belt and the drop of jeans as Taehyung towered over him, spitting down on his own dick and jerking it, trying to make Jungkook as comfortable as possible.
“Now, we have to do this quick, people will start to notice we’re gone,” Taehyung hissed, flipping Jungkook to face him, and dragging his ass off the edge of the table, pulling his legs to his shoulders as he lined up his tip with jis entrance.
He looked up at the younger for consent and he gave him a nod as he began to fill Jungkook slowly, creating more faces of pleasure as he entered him completely, not moving at first to give time to adjust.
He begins to slowly move his hips, holding onto Jungkook’s hips for leverage as he gains speed. Jungkook throws his head back in a moaning mess, covering his mouth to muffle them, but his hand is removed by Taehyung, only to bite his lip as a replacement.
“Let me hear you, baby. I wanna hear how much you like it when I fuck you,” Taehyung hissed, quickening his pace as Jungkook’s moans and the sound of skin against skin echoes on the walls.
“Don’t stop, please, fuck,” Jungkook begs as Taehyung thrusts hard into him, causing Jungkook to almost fall over.
“You’re such a little slut for me, begging to get fucked in a church,” Taehyung grunts between thrusts as beads of sweat begin to form on his forehead.
“You’re so big Tae–fuck!!” he cries out as Taehyung finds his prostate, forcing his walls to clench around his length as he’s sent closer to the edge.
“I can feel you tightening around my dick. I’m gonna make you come all over this fucking table.”
“Fuck, keep talking…” he begs as he begins to concentrate on his orgasm.
“If we were alone in this damn church right now, I’d fuck you in every single room and so hard you’d be asking me to give you mercy, but not even God can stop me from fucking you to oblivion.”
With a few more hard thrusts Jungkook releases onto his stomach and chest and a few drops on the table, crying out in pleasure as he rides out his high.
“Fuck you’re so good..” Jungkook hisses as he watches Taehyung thrust into him, feeling them become more erratic and sloppy, knowing he’s going to finish anytime soon. “Come inside me, Taehyung. I wanna walk around in this church with your cum inside of me.”
“Jungkook-ah, I’m coming,” he moans with two hard and sloppy thrusts and releases into the younger, pumping himself a few more times while he catches his breath and recovers, wiping the sweat off of himself with the sleeve of his black sweater.
Jungkook gets up to redress himself, when a hand pushes him back onto the table and he feels Taehyung’s tongue drag across his abs, licking the liquid off of him and swallowing all of it, turning Jungkook on once again, but he knew he’d have to wait to get home for another round.
They reentered the service after freshening up in the bathroom, which was now moved to the cafeteria where food was being served, where they met up with Taehyung’s parents, who saved them a table.
“Where were you two?” his mother asked as she took a bite of her food.
“I decided I’d show Jungkook how we worship in the house of God.”