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stilespeters · 2 years ago

Text

Rich Girl

series masterlist

pairing: Tate Langdon x f!reader

words: 4965

summary: The wealthy kinsley family moving into the murder house leads to: Cracks forming between family members, strange occurances in the house, and the feeling of being watched all the time.

warnings: underaged drinking, hints to stalking, some cursing

taglist: @iloveneilperry

song: rich girl by daryl hall and john oates

🎶 So far gone on your own. Well you could get along if you tried to be strong. But you'll never be strong cause you're a rich girl. And you've gone too far cause you know it don't matter anyway. You can rely on the old man's money...

October 21st 2014

It was always very clear that the west coast wasn't for you, yet here you were, stuck in LA traffic on a saturday morning. You had questioned if you had done anything horrific in your life to deserve to be here right now.

Olive was sitting next to you and was playing some Mario game on his nintendo, Frank was driving while whistling the lines of the horrible music on the radio and your mother was nervous. Usually she would touch her pearl necklace continuously in state of stress, however it was packed up in her suitcase in the back. Now she was staring blankly in front of her, biting her nails. It was a habit you inherited from her as you were plucking your own cuticles. However, instead of being nervous, you were bored out of your mind.

To try and kill time you had placed your headphones on and listened to your own music, but still, Nirvana couldn’t make time go by faster. It also didn't help that strands of hair were getting painfully stuck in your headphones and earrings every time you moved.

For hours since you left the hotel it was quiet in the car, until you heard Frank gasp. The whole ride from the hotel he had looked very neutral but now he broke the silence. “Oh my god.”

Your mom got out of her trance and turned her head, making her hat bump against the window. “What is it, honey?”

“I think I forgot to grab our charger from our hotel room,” Frank seemed visibly upset and your mom stopped biting her nails.

“It’s probably somewhere in the suitcases in the back.” She tried to reassure but Frank shook his head. “No, I remember plugging in the charger and thinking to myself I should unplug it and pack it in, but I forgot.”

"It's just a charger, honey. You got a backup charger and when we arrive at the house we'll buy another one." she was quick to come to a solution but Frank shook his head. He was always one to never forget anything. Even though you were very very wealthy and could buy millions of chargers, Frank always advocated to you and your little brother to never lose an item worth of any value. Every cent was worth something and could help. The way Frank looked at money was the way a mother would look at a newborn child.

"Fine." He murmured and you saw one of his famous frowns appear on his face whenever he was upset. He looked like a child really. Every time something like this happens he sulks in a corner and desperately tries to push the annoying feeling away for the sake of looking tough, however, deep inside he was boiling.

He gave a small smack on the side of the wheel and cursed.

“Shit.”

Before he could say anything else, your mother gave him a soft smack on the shoulder. “Don’t swear in front of Oliver. He doesn't need to hear that filth.”

Frank’s eyes widened and he said “whoops” before giving a guilty look at your mother. He quietly hoped Oliver didn’t hear it but once he turned his head to look at him, Oliver looked up from his Nintendo and gave him a cheeky smile. “Shit.”

Oliver always did the same thing Frank did. It was cute how he looked up to him. Your mother however wasn’t too fond of it.

“See? He’s starting to copy you. Next thing I know, he starts smoking and drinking as well. 1 version of you is enough.”

“Oh come on, Clarissa. A little swearing won’t hurt the world. It’ll make him tough like his sister. Right Y/n?” again, he looked at you with hope through the rear view mirror that you’ll back him up.

“No, I actually agree with mom.”

“Thank you, see Frank? I raised a well mannered daughter.”

You bit your nail and leaned your elbow against the window frame of the car while looking outside. “Yeah, I think it’s a very shitty thing to swear in front of Olive.”

“Very shit indeed.” Oliver answered.

Frank laughed out loud, his lost charger long forgotten and your mother facepalmed while closing her eyes. She rubbed her forehead as she leaned against the window and she looked visibly disappointed. You however, looked at your little brother and high fived him.

“One version of you,” your mom looked back and pointed at you “Is also enough.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. You then clicked on the pause button on your ipod to resume your song. Nirvana’s ‘come as you are’ was on a loop and you closed your eyes while daydreaming.

The feeling of sitting in one position for way too long made your body shiver and ache. It stung and you felt uncomfortable, but after shifting and finding a better way to sit, the vibrations managed to lull you to sleep.

Once the car came to a stop about 3 hours later, you opened your eyes.

“We’re here!” Frank said in excitement and placed a hand on your mother’s hand before exiting the vehicle. You had your ipod in hand and ‘glory box’ by Portishead was playing as you stretched your limbs.

From the moment you stepped out of the car and felt the California weather wrapped around you, you were surprised that it wasn’t that hot. Even though it was October, you expected it to feel like you were in a pit of hell. The autumn breeze however felt comfortable against your skin.

You grabbed your backpack with all the necessary stuff you needed, and grabbed your sunglasses from your pocket to shield the sunlight from your eyes. As you chewed on your bubblegum you got a view of the building in front of you.

Frank and your mom were stretching their limbs and you took a long and hard look. The building looked like it had been ripped out of a 1920s film. It was grand and had a pale reddish color. The windows were mosaic with washed out colors, but it suited the exterior well.

Frank looked in awe at the building. “Now, look at that beauty. It’s even better in person.” you cocked your head to the side and scanned the mural. “It looks…” you tried to find the right word, “Old.”

You and your best friend loved fashion styles and you were also both very interested in stylish architecture. Victorian homes were usually fascinating to you because it had so much character and history. This one in front of you however looked like one of those houses that had mold everywhere. It's probably because it had been a very long time since people lived here.

You cringed and scrunched your nose while touching your earring. "This place better have a maid."

Olive stood next to you while Frank and your mom stood behind you. Frank placed his arm around your mom’s waist and placed a hand on your shoulder. "I read online that it was built somewhere in the early 20th century." Your mom gave the boy a little squeeze of his shoulder.

“Great, so the chances are 99% that the house is haunted." you muttered and your mom gave you a sharp look.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” You gave her a smile and when she looked away, you rolled your eyes. Frank heard what you said and rubbed your shoulder. “Of course it’s not haunted, honey. You’ve seen way too many films,” the man looked at the little boy, “It’s beautiful and detailed, right Oliver?”

Oliver didn’t respond, instead he searched for your hand and clung to it. “Is this our new home?"

“It might be,” Frank walked with Marcy to the next room and squeezed Oliver’s shoulder. “Come on little man, let’s see the inside.”

Frank, Oliver and your mother were the first ones to walk towards the door and you were left behind to gaze at the window. You swore you saw movement for a split second and your eyes lingered for a moment, but after a while of staring you saw nothing. All that met your eye was the abyss behind colored tiles.

You shrugged it off and slowly made your way to the front door. Right before you stepped foot on the porch, the door opened and a strawberry blonde woman smiled brightly.

“You must be Frank and Clarissa,” she greeted and Frank shook the woman's hand. She introduced herself as Marcy and then saw you and your brother, "And you must be Y/n and Oliver." You shook her hand and smiled, showing your bright teeth, “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Marcy stepped aside and let everyone in. “It’s a classic Victorian. Built around 1920 by the doctor to the stars at the time. It’s just fabulous, these are real Tiffany fixtures. And as you can see, the owners really loved this place like a child. They restored everything.”

Oliver followed them and you were still scanning the hall. The feelings you had when you walked on the creaking wood was indescribable. It looked intriguing yet menacing for some reason.

As Marcy explained some more historic facts about the building, you got bored and decided to walk around. You didn't know where to, but your feet moved before you could think. It felt like a strong gravitational pull enchanted you and took control of your legs, and your curious eyes met a lamp in the corner of the end of the hall. To the right there was nothing to meet your eyes but the walls, yet again you swore you saw movement. You frowned but shrugged it off once again. Maybe it was just the jetlag. You really did feel tired and almost choked on your bubblegum when you fell asleep.

You whipped out your phone as you walked through the hall and you sighed exaggeratedly. You were texting your best friend about the house. However you didn't have any service and you wondered if the place had wifi. No matter, even if it would send, she didn't respond right away as she was probably asleep due to the time difference. You put away your phone and looked around.

You had seen pictures before and thought everything was gonna be smaller. You knew the way people photographed houses to make it look bigger than in reality, but this house seemed to be an exception. You had to give props to that. You had great respect for honesty and integrity.

As you were checking all of the rooms on the ground floor, you were stopped by a barking sound from your right. As you followed the sound, you looked down and saw a Chi-poo looking up at you with whale eyes. It looked at you with its head cocked to the side and you crouched down. “Where did you come from, little guy?” your voice was higher pitched and you gently grabbed the collar and read the name, “Hallie.”

Your frown faded and you smiled brightly while scratching Hallie’s head. “Aren’t you a little beauty?” You whispered and you let Hallie find a comfortable spot in your arms. The moment seemed sweet and although it was, a clicking sound of heels that was heard from behind you ruined it. You could almost hear the entitlement in that sound and you let out an inaudible sigh.

“There you are,” You looked up and saw your mother standing in the doorway. “Want to see the rest of the house, sweetie?”

Clarissa leaned against the brown cabinet on the right. You put up a smile and stood up from your spot.

“Yeah I’m coming.” You grabbed the dog and cradled it in your arms.

After you saw the kitchen, you were marveled by the space of the house in its entirety. Sure everything looked old but there was no denying the house definitely had style. The kitchen island had a sink and the dark brown wood oddly complimented the black and white tiles. From the outside it definitely looked very stale and it definitely needed a paint job, but from the inside it was much more vibrant. You appreciated all the little crevices of details in each and every room and realized you shouldn't have judged too harshly on the first look.

Once you moved to another door and opened it, you saw two big shelves against the wall and a fireplace on the right.

“This could be the music room, right honey?” Frank asked your mother and she happily nodded.

Marcy looked amused, “You’re a musician?”

Frank shook his head. “No, unfortunately I’m not musically gifted, Y/n is. She plays the piano.”

"She definitely didn't get that from me, I am tone deaf." Your mother laughed and you smiled sheepishly.

Marcy gave you a smile in return and walked a bit further towards the window. “I think the piano is such a lovely instrument, I think it will look amazing here.” She pointed at the spot near the window and Frank happily continued talking. “Y/n has been dying to get a Grand Piano. We had one years ago but sold it when we moved again. We want to buy one as soon as possible for her so she can practice again.” He placed a hand on your shoulder and gave you a proud smile as he rubbed softly, “Oliver always listened whenever she played. Y/n even taught him a song or two."

“That sounds lovely, the previous owners of the house were also musically gifted. The mother played the Cello.” Marcy continued and her face fell, “Speaking about the previous owners, full disclosure requires that I tell you what happened to them.”

You let out a soft chuckle and walked forward, causing Frank's hand to let go off your shoulder. “Let me guess, they died?”

You actually meant for it to be a joke, but Marcy nodded.

“Yes they did, actually. All three of them. The dog you’re holding is Hallie. The only one left of the Harmon family. The mother died while giving birth and the daughter and the father both committed suicide. I sold them the house too. They were just the sweetest family. You never know, I guess.”

Your face fell and your mouth opened and closed a few times as your eyebrows were raised. Before you could say anything, Frank came to your rescue. “That explains why it’s half the price of every other house in the neighborhood and why it was on sale for 3 years I guess.”

You could have guessed Frank wanted the biggest house for the least amount of money. One thing he didn't forsee was there was always a catch.

"I told you it was too good to be true." you whispered to yourself. The house market was shit, and so when Frank found this house on the listings he marveled at how much money he could save and invest if you were to move in. You were very skeptical of it and had warned him that there could be a very concerning reason as to why it was this cheap.

Murders were definitely a valid reason as to why.

Marcy continued. “I do have a very nice mid-century ranch, but it’s in the valley and you’re going to get a third of the house for twice the price.”

Your mother held the arm of Frank and seemingly didn’t care about the information about the demise of the previous tenants. “The price doesn’t really matter to us. We just need a spaceious place where there is silence and peace. I get these horrible migraines that cause insomnia and my psychiatrist recommended moving to a more quiet area.”

“And you thought you would find silence in LA?” You tried but your mother ignored your comment and continued talking to Marcy. “He prescribed me pills that could help me fall asleep and stay asleep. But still, the loudness of central New Orleans was too much.”

“Don’t worry, mrs. Kinsley. Los Angeles is not all loud and noisy. This house is in the perfect neighborhood and in the perfect shape. The sounds of anything outside are drowned out by the thick walls and even then, it’s rare for it to be busy outside. The only times when the neighborhood comes alive is on holidays,” Marcy continued. “As halloween is approaching, the peak will be on october 31st, but after that you can expect everything to be quiet. Also, the neighbors don't really tend to socialise a lot from what I've heard.”

“That sounds lovely.” your mother smiled brightly and Marcy walked away to talk with Frank about the next room that was perfect for his work. You could faintly the voice of Marcy saying the man from the previous family was a psychiatrist and you found it ironic since Frank was a psychologist. What a coincidence.

As soon as she was out of your sight, you turned to your mother and removed the smile from your face. “Okay, it might be in a good neighborhood, and everything might be all quiet or whatever. But are we really gonna gloss over the fact that a family died here? I mean, what happened to the tenants before them? Are you not concerned about that?"

“The history of the house isn't that important," she shrugged, "You didn't seem to have a problem with our old house. It's even older and also a lot of things have happened there. Probably a few murders here and there. There is a ton of history on that as well." She said as if it was the most casual thing ever. Yeah sure, it's not like murder is a crime and is very bad

"Yes, but this is a house where random people died," you whisper-shouted, "Our old house was old, yes, but it's family history. Our history. I don't mind that because it's a part of us. It's part of our family."

Your mother didn't answer that and looked at the side. She was as stubborn like you and you let out a mocking laugh. "Right, I forgot family doesn't mean anything to you, it's why you got a new shitty boyfriend Frank and decided to move to the other side of the fucking country." That made her head snap back to you and you almost missed the way her head moved to Frank and Marcy, afraid that they would hear her daughter's outburst.

"Y/n, let’s not do this now. It’s not the timing.” Your mother warned with closed teeth and but before you could protest and ask when the right time was, Oliver stood in the doorway. “Mom?”

Hallie, who had a warm spot in your arms, jumped out and ran towards the younger boy. Oliver looked surprised but happily pet the dog and Clarissa smiled as if nothing happened.

“Hey honey, what do you think of the house so far?"

“It’s very big,” Hallie licked his hand and the boy smiled, “I like it.”

Clarissa nodded in agreement and glanced at Frank and Marcy for a second before facing the two of you again. “I think it’s absolutely gorgeous. Exactly what we're looking for.”

You raised your eyebrows and crossed your arms over each other.

Olive's eyes sparkled. “Does this mean that we’ll take it?”

“I think it’s perfect," she said and she gave Olive a smile. “Your opinion matters too, of course. What do you say?” You gave your mother a side eye.

“Yes!" she then turned to look at you and waited for your approval. "And you? Y/n?" her eyes stood void of emotions and you watched Frank and Marcy in the corner of your eyes and sighed. “Why are you asking me? I know you don’t care about my opinion anyways.”

“Y/n…” Clarissa smiled through her teeth and gave you a warning look again. Hallie barked at something and ran out of Olive's arms into the hallway. Olive followed the dog and you continued the conversation you had with your mom.

"What? It's literally why you forced me to come with you. Ever since Frank came we everything changed and I'm tired of it, okay? I just... I can't. Give me a break." you exhaled deeply and rubbed your forehead.

"I will have none of this at the moment,” she repeated her standard line with a calm tone, “We both know it was for the best, and you like quiet too right? There are great schools here and I'm sure you'll make loads of new friends." She didn't know she was literally proving your point right then and there. She didn't care about your opinion. She already had her own the minute she forced you to pack your things and dragged you into the car. You were tempted to open the window and yell 'Help, I'm being kidnapped' but you knew that would only worsen things. You also didn't really felt like sitting in a police bureau sulking while your mother explained the situation.

You scoffed and crossed your arms. "LA is full of stuck up people who care only about followers and fame. I never wanted this."

Your mother rolled her eyes. "Don't act like a brat, Y/n I am so over it. Tons of girls your age dream of moving to this city in a big house like this. They would do anything to be in your position right now, to have the opportunities you have. Besides there are people like that everywhere, your old friends were exactly like that. And sweetie, don't tell me you're not like them cause you are.”

Ah, the old classic "you can't feel sad because you have it better than majority of the people on this shitty planet".

You were starting to boil.

“Just because you’re not a fan of them doesn’t mean they’re immediately conceited.” you tried to keep your voice low to avoid Olive hearing the conversation if he were to lurk somewhere nearby. He had witnessed a few outbursts a few times before and you didn't want Olive to see that as an example of good behavior.

Before the conversation truly went downhill, Marcy and Frank walked back into the room and you turned around to smile again as if nothing happened. Your mother did the same and now you realized the older you got, the more you looked like your mother.

Frank gave Clarissa a kiss on the cheek before he looked at you and asked the same question. “So, Y/n. What do you say?”

It was quiet for a few seconds before you realized that there was absolutely no way of going home anytime soon. You gave Frank one last look before giving Marcy a grin, hoping she wouldn’t notice your twitching eye.

“Does this place come with the dog?”

After Clarissa and Frank signed some papers and discussed the next plans with Marcy, it was already night time. Most of the moving boxes were in the living room and you were currently in your new bedroom. You didn't want to speak with anyone today and so you sulked while sitting on your bed.

The room wasn't all too bad, it was way smaller and darker than your previous room but oddly enough you didn't really mind. Plus, the door had a lock so that was very convenient for you. It took a little while to get the key but after a thorough search you found it lying in a cabinet.

You locked the door, closed the blinds and made sure no one could peek. You were tired from everything and you were in desperate need of some distraction. A bottle of vodka was hidden somewhere deep in one of the boxes as well as a can of cola, and you mixed the two drinks.

"At least I still have alcohol and a designer handbag." You muttered and as you sat on the chair in front of the mirror at your desk, you took a swig of the liquid.

“The blinds are see through, anyone standing in the yard can see what you're doing.”

You spat out the remaining drink and turned around to see a young, blonde man stand near the door. He had his hands in his pockets and simply blinked at you.

“What the-” you wiped the remains from your mouth. “Who are you? How did you get in here?” You saw that the door behind him was open, and you were visibly confused. You thought you locked your door.

“Also, the lock is old, you should double turn the key for it to work.”

Before you could say anything else, he walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.

Your eyebrows were frowned and you turned around one more time to blink at the door. Once you looked back at the mirror, you saw the spatters of vodka mixed with cola painted the glass and rubbed your eyes.

What the fuck?

You stood up from your place after a few seconds and walked to your door. To test out what he said you locked the door while twisting the key once. As you pushed the door, it opened and you did the same thing again, this time you turned the key twice.

You pushed the door and it didn’t budge.

Who the fuck was he and how did he get into your house? Was he one of the movers who helped with the boxes from the truck? No that can't be possible, you scanned everyone's faces as they moved in and out, but everyone was middle aged.

So perhaps he was one of Frank's clients? You didn't really know anything about his job but it seemed very logical that clients first had to book an appointment before showing up.

Even though you were kind of freaked out, you didn't alarm anyone. Maybe that was a dumb decision, but you really didn't feel like walking downstairs to see the smug face of Frank and your mother, especially after everything that happened today.

If he was a thief, you hoped he'd steal Frank's backup charger.

If you thought the situation with the blonde boy was weird, what happened after was a lot weirder.

It was about an hour later and you had a bathroom break. You could still walk in a straight line and only felt a bit buzzed. Trying to avoid the living room where Frank and your mother were seated, you walked into the kitchen and grabbed an apple from the tray.

Walking back upstairs, you accidentally dropped the apple and cursed. However, as it rolled into the hallway, you were startled to see the apple roll back to you as though it hit an invisible wall in the middle. You grabbed your forehead, crouching down and taking the apple in your hand. How was that possible?

Looking around once or twice to see anything out of the ordinary, you struggled to clear your thoughts. Eventually you blamed it on the alcohol. Although a feeling deep inside told you that it wasn't that. You knew you weren't drunk enough to imagine this.

You didn't make a big deal out of it mainly because you always scared yourself by thinking the most random creepy things. Walking to the bathroom at night; what if someone is standing behind the corner? Sitting on the couch; what if someone's hand suddenly snatches you into a shadow realm? Every thought was so random. You did it to yourself and you didn't want to scare yourself again.

You blinked once or twice before returning your trek upstairs.

Walking through the hall to find the right door back to your room, you struggled. Having a big house meant there were more rooms, which meant that it would take a while longer to get used to finding your way. Your old house was the same, maybe even bigger. It was the perfect place for hide and seek. You could hide in a closet in one of the many rooms and it would take hours or maybe days to find you.

As you finally found your bedroom, you stopped in your tracks. You heard noise behind the door, and when you opened it, you frowned. You saw that someone unplugged your headphones from your ipod on your bed and had played a song by Daryl Hall and John Oates.

So far gone on your own. Well you could get along if you tried to be strong. But you'll never be strong cause you're a rich girl. And you've gone too far cause you know it don't matter anyway. You can rely on the old man's money...

You paused the device and walked out of your room.

“Olive!”

“Yes?”

You opened the door to his room and saw he was still on his nintendo. He didn’t look up when you stood in the doorway with your arms crossed. “You can’t just go into my room and do that shit. We need some boundaries, I value privacy."

Oliver looked up from his nintendo and looked confused. “I didn’t go into your room?”

“Very funny Olive.” Oliver had pulled pranks on you before and so you weren't buying it. "First of all, don't call me Olive, I'm a person not food, and second of all, I never stepped foot off my bed since I jumped on it. That was like an hour ago."

You were very skeptical and crossed your arms.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not, I swear!”

You narrowed your eyes before deciding to drop the subject. You didn't want to argue, especially knowing you would get a lecture from Frank about family positivity.

“Whatever.”

You walked back and looked at your ipod once again and rubbed your eyes, cursing because you wore mascara. Trying not to cry because everything frustrated you, you fell ontop of your bed and groaned in your pillow, smudging mascara on the sheets. You just simply didn't care anymore.

These were very interesting first days of your new house. Nothing really seemed to work in your favor, you hated this city, you missed everyone back at home, everything seemed to be out of the ordinary, and you didn't know if the constant feeling of being watched was because of the new house, or if it was just you being paranoid.

No matter, every feeling you held wasn't gonna last long. Because as soon as you would turn 18, you would pack your bags and leave this place. Ever since Frank came into the picture you had everything planned out. All you had to do was wait a couple of weeks and survive the constant bickering of your family members, Frank, and the weirdness of the house. You just have to hold on a little longer.

This is going to be challenging, but surviving for a bit longer can't be that hard... Right?

#evan peters #evan peters x reader #evan peters smut #evan peters x you #evan peters x y/n #evan peters x female reader #tate langdon x y/n #tate langdon x you #tate langdon x reader #tate langdon smut #tate ahs #tate and violet #tate langdon

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query-quadrant · 10 months ago

Note

how do i vome to terms with my ashen relationship being so short lived?

i (bronze) am vonsidering mediating between a rust blood and a teal blood who vontinously pivk shitty fights with each other.

i hate them both so muvh but. im worried. how am i supposed to avvept that once i make these stupid shits vlean up their avt, theyll most either get together pitvhwise or all three of us will break up?

i know that long lasting ash relationships do happen. but ive never seen this avomplished by anyone i know. i dont know if i want to even get into get into something with them if its just going to end badly for me… but thats the whole point of auspistivism. its selfless. maybe id be a bad auspistive after all.

but these two need someone or else theyre going to tear everyone else down with them eventually…

what do i do?

ok im gonna take a hard stance here listen to me i am grabbing your shoulders right now this is the most important shit youre ever gonna hear ok you need to absorb this put it into a text to speech thing and listen till your hear ducts start bleeding if you have to im so serious right now

i dont give a fuck if those two freaks of nature are about to kill each other for real or blow up entire fucking stem clusters if youre not sure you can handle this shit you look the other fucking way and leave the job for someone else who can handle it

auspiticism is hard especially at the start youre stepping into a fucked up relationship where everyones as bitchy as possible and most trolls want it to be short and literally think thats the point and also depending on the dude some assholes would also literally rather skin their bulge than admit that maybe the auspitices feelings matter and that theyre not just walking cheat codes to fix relationships

sometimes people get magical auspiticisms that last for sweeps but most of them arent gonna be that even the nicer ones are usually short or at least start fucked up before they get good and you gotta look out for you

anyway

good advice for if you read all that and do actually end up doing it:

1. make sure you have a good moirail before you get involved

2. have literally any backup plans for if slash when shit ends

3. make sure theyre actually into you too theyre not gonna listen to you if theyre not

4. take no shit

bad advice:

hmmmmm thinking emoji dot dot dot

what if whenever shit started getting a little too stabilized you started fucking shit up on purpose then theyd never have any reason to break up with you cause theyd always need an auspitice

this could never backfire ever in any way

you know give them shitty advice plant evidence one of them is cheating dress up as one of them in a really shitty disguise and start saying whatever insane bullshit you can think of to stoke the flames a little diy your own personal feud nothings stopping you

#asks #advice #ashen stuff #ive seen good ashen relationships too its not like no one ever has sickeningly cute annoying bullshit whirlwind romances #but if youre thinking of getting into one #you seriously gotta think about this shit #doesnt fucking help that the minute you auspitize one time suddenly everyone with any relationship drama ever in a #five hundred mile radius wants you to march your ass over and fix their problems #and if youre like ''no im not interested that sounds like shit'' they take it as flirting

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olderjodijournals · 3 months ago

Text

Sunday, June 2, 2002

I decided that little by little, I would go ahead and print these journals out once they’re fine-tuned. That way, I don’t have to worry about lost information. I know that even with multiple backups, stuff can still be lost. I also don’t give a shit anymore who reads these. If you don’t like something I might have to say, that’s your problem.

Still haven’t heard from Paula, so I’ve basically given up on her till I do.

They did send another Chris doll. This time by UPS. That’s who they usually use, but UPS doesn’t deliver to PO boxes. Tom’s going to call them and have them send it back. I definitely want that other fiber optic fairy, though. Fairy of Cork, I think she’s called (some Irish fairy). This one’s a plug-in rather than a battery-operated one. I like how I can turn these things on when I’m going to bed in the daylight, knowing it’ll be dark when I get up. That way, I’m not fumbling around in the dark when I do get up.

Tom says we’re gonna up the ordering of the Arab and Brazilian dolls a month in advance to two weeks from now, cuz we deserve it, as he says. That’ll be my anniversary present, and mine to him will be new glasses.

Which will it be - out of stock or left to sit on a shelf at the post office for a month? It’s gotta be one or the other. God knows I could never get a doll in just 10 business days after ordering it unless it’s one I already got like with this second Chris fairy. That one was right on time, as was the second Giselle doll back in Phoenix, but was the first one, and the Maria doll on time? No, of course not. The only ones to come on time were the Ashton-Drake dolls, but that’s only cuz they take such a long time anyway.

I slept an amazing 13½ hours last night. Now why in the world did I need so much sleep? Was I really that tired? I guess so. I certainly have been busy. Been busy online and worrying, God’s favorite pastime for me. And like most things in my life, it always comes down to the freeloaders and what trouble they may cause me. The only difference is that any havoc they may wreak upon me since we moved is done indirectly rather than directly. Sometimes I don’t feel like probation is probation, but rather an extension of jail. How many more weeks am I gonna have to sit and wonder what they’re gonna do about this class bullshit? I just want to know and get it over with! Then I can get hit with the next problem or at least potential problem that these freeloaders are gonna cause.

I’m so sick of having to pay for other people’s stupidity (referring to whoever felt my reading comprehension skills were low unless they just threw that in as an excuse to have one more thing to control me with)! It seems like most of Tom’s and my suffering are due to the consequences of others misunderstanding us. We spend way too much time correcting other people’s mistakes or getting ripped off.

I hope Joy will be in this next coming week, cuz my schedule would be perfect for it. Then we can get information on the classes and hopefully get on with that without the state interfering with any more of our time or money.

I accidentally came across a wallpaper site that has something like 22 million pictures, so that’s what I’ve been busy with. They have a huge variety of awesome pictures, most of which are high res. They’re calling the prairie dogs here desert gophers.

Monday, June 3, 2002

I can’t believe that in 6 days I’ll have been here a decade!

Meanwhile, Tom downloaded me a really cool screensaver and wallpaper changer program. This wallpaper changer, unlike my old one, allows me to put as many pictures into a folder for display as I want. It also changes my desktop icon colors to go with whatever colors are in the pictures. Some of the colors are ugly, but I like the surprise of it. It lets me either display pictures in order (usually alphabetically by title names) or random display. I’ve got it on random display.

The screen saver thing works the same as the wallpaper program. It displays as many pictures as I want it to, changing every 15 seconds in random order, but the way cool thing about this one is that I can have it play MP3s too, also in random order.

Tuesday, June 4, 2002

The fucking rats woke me up for the last time last night. No more wheels for them while I’m asleep! Its squeaking was what woke me. I had to take a Benadryl to fall back asleep, so naturally, when the alarm went off at 8:00, I was dog-tired.

I want to maintain a day schedule until Friday the 21st. I’d maintain it just till the 15th if it weren’t for the freeloaders, but the freeloaders say I have to report just one week later, and that might not be enough time to flip my schedule. I should be used to the fact that most of my life comes down to the freeloaders by now. After all, I’m an expert at it. It’s nothing new. It’s been this way since 1996. However, it’s something I just can’t get used to. Maybe in another year.

If only we’d both done our homework up front and known all the facts! If we’d only known what we came to know too late! I’d never have been in jail and I’d never have met Teddy Bear, which would be a good thing, in light of her abandoning me the way she has.

Mary, I could take her or leave her. I wonder why I haven’t heard back from her, though. Hasn’t she had enough time to ask around about the bear’s whereabouts, not that I care anymore, cuz all I know is that Teddy Bear couldn’t have cared the way she led me to believe she did? Whether or not she got my letter, she’d have called if she cared and she didn’t.

Mary never even let me know if she got the stuff I sent her, and again I wonder if someone’s playing games and could be interfering with our mail.

I always believed that public pretenders just didn’t care all that much since they weren’t being paid by their clients, not that they were out to convict along with the DA. Then again, I’ve never been charged with a felony before this, so how was I to know that since public pretenders work for the state and since it was the state that was against me, failing their clients means “winning” for them? Conviction is a victory for them just like it is for the DA. They’re all on the same side.

And if it wasn’t for Tom, I would still believe to this day I went down for the journals and not this letter. Nor would I know about the information Paul withheld from us.

How much longer am I going to let this state victimize me? When am I going to just turn my back and walk away? Oh, how I want to so bad! How I want to show them - see? You can’t always get your way and you can’t push just anyone around. Certainly not me! - But I know that I’d be treated no different than if I’d been a convicted mass murderer who escaped from prison. They’d pursue me as if I were a heavily armed and dangerous person. That means they’d either bust through the door, or they’d throw teargas in here. They wouldn’t consider me a lower priority. They’d put just as much energy and effort into getting at me as they did with Ted Bundy. Then once they got me, I’d probably be looking at close to a decade in prison, then a good 5 years to life on probation once released. Like I said, I’m forced to take this abuse that I wouldn’t deserve even if I wrote them a million threatening letters. It’s just like being strapped to a chair while someone beats on you. There’s just no breaking free!

When Tom was out burning a few days ago, I went out and called to him from about 30 feet away, asking if he wanted a baked potato as I was about to make one for myself. This was in the early evening.

He told me to keep my voice down since voices carry at that hour, so no one would look out to see who was talking, then report us for burning trash.

In the past, I’d have been like, “Oh, you and your silly fears and paranoias! You worry too much about what others may do.”

But now I know better. I know that we must see each and every individual out there as being the potential threat and enemy that they are. Just like animals have to be wary of other animals, we have to watch out for other people. People like Doe and Art would say our attitude sucks, but if our attitude keeps us safer, out of jail and from losing money, we’ll keep our sucky attitude.

There appears to be a new house visible about two properties in front. I can only see part of the top of the house. It looks to be a tan-colored house. I heard what sounded like loud engines around here the other day, but when I looked outside, I didn’t see anything. Well, maybe this was what I heard.

Wednesday, June 5, 2002

Tom’s coming up on his 7-year anniversary at the bank. Of course, that’s nothing when you consider the fact that he was at his last two jobs for 16-17 years, as he said.

And we’re coming up on our 8th anniversary. Wow! My present to him will be new glasses, and his to me will be those Arab and Brazilian dolls. The fight will be on to get them in 10 days. Which will they be, out of stock, or left to sit on a shelf at the PO for a month? It’ll be one or the other, no doubt. They should get here by the same day as Joy’s deadline - Tom’s b-day, the 28th, but we know they won’t get here till mid-July or maybe even August. The tentative plan is to have this be the last of the mail-order dolls for now, cuz I’m sick of having to fight to get them. Besides, if God could spare me from being a state volunteer, I really want to learn to make my own dolls. I’ll probably still have to fight with the PO, though, ordering parts. Then again, maybe not. Maybe we’ll pick things up from a supplier in Phoenix or maybe even Casa Grande.

I kind of hope the dolls are out of stock so that the PO doesn’t just toss them on a shelf and leave them there till we ask for them. What lazy people they are! It’s so much easier to just toss a box on a shelf and say they tried to deliver it than to just give it to the damn person.

Tom said he’d put this class bullshit out of my mind until and if something happens with it, but that is so much easier said than done! the cheeks told me not to worry about it, too. Yeah, that’s what Paul said - don’t worry. I’m sick of these blacks affecting half the things I do, and when they’re not, I’m worrying that they will! It never fucking ends! When we lived together, they’d be pissing me off with their music, and when they weren’t, I’d be stressing over knowing they could start up again any sec. Now, they turn my life upside down by costing me my freedom and thousands of dollars, and when they’re not, I worry that they will. They’re either directly/indirectly wreaking havoc on my life, or I’m worrying that they’re going to do something more, knowing it’s just a matter of time. I feel like I’m never going to be free of these sick fucks!

Always with me, always with them.

Also, this state’s not gonna give without taking. Meaning, if they decide to give me a break with the classes, they’ll just do something else, like push the work issue, demand more money, or that I go to Casa Grande to piss in front of someone since I haven’t in a year.

I’d like to think that Scot’s word would have a lot of leverage in my favor (by his saying he doesn’t think classes are necessary and showing them my diplomas), being that he’s one of their own, in a sense. After all, they’d never second-guess him if he said he found drugs or guns in here or made up some other bullshit story to get at me if he wanted to be that corrupt, but I think it’s more important to them to control me than to listen to him. Well, I sure as hell hope I find out, either way, this Friday. I want this done and over with, so I can move on to worry about some other freeloader-related bullshit. Either that or so I can be free to deal with whatever appliance decides to break next if it isn’t the car.

Although Scot hasn’t stepped out of line yet and I doubt that he will, I’m still on guard. I’ll forever be paranoid and wary of those in law enforcement, after all, I’ve been through, and I could kick myself for even thinking of getting together with Teddy Bear. How stupid could I have been, despite how good-looking she was?! In more ways than one, for a variety of potential reasons, I’m glad she blew me off. I mean, all Scot has to do is say I slugged him, say he heard me plotting to kill the freeloaders - anything - and there wouldn’t be a damn thing I could do to prove otherwise. Not a damn thing. He’d pay for it eventually, but not without taking me down with him first.

Thursday, June 6, 2002

Mary’s being a pest again. No, not with requests to print her journal excerpts out, but with another postage-due letter. It’s only 12 cents, but it puts Tom out. Besides, how many more times do I have to tell her this?! I mean, are we dumb here, or do we just not get it?

She also wants Tom, since I bullshitted her by saying I tried to visit and was turned away for being on probation, to come down and withdraw $80 from her account to send to her boyfriend Todd in Utah for his birthday. I’m simply going to tell her that I don’t want anyone with my last name at that jail. I can’t take any chances at stirring things up and we don’t know of anyone else willing and trustworthy of doing this. Unless the probation department’s going to come out and demand I do something I can’t/won’t do like stand on my pinky finger all day or divorce Tom, I don’t ever intend to return to Estrella Jail to freeze my ass off while I live on hotdogs and cold showers! And I know damn good and well that God would never allow me the blessing of being able to reside with the same compatible celly month after month after month. I’ll be damned if I’ll go back there and play musical cellies; some of them ok, some crazy, and some rude, loud and obnoxious.

Damn, even at home I gotta put up with inmates’ requests! If she keeps this up, I’m gonna feel used and I’m gonna ignore her just like the bear ignored me.

I also told her that Tom needs to sleep during the daytime whenever possible, but that I could make him a birthday card with my card-making program if she wants.

She feels really helpless being locked up and all, and as I told her, I understand and I do empathize and sympathize with her! I wasn’t locked up during Tom’s birthday, but I was during Christmas.

She’s really got me worried once again that someone may be interfering with my mail to her. Maybe some of my unanswered questions are in the letter that he plans on picking up tomorrow, but she never told me if she got her book excerpts or the pictures I sent. Didn’t she get that stuff? And what about the letter where I mentioned getting paints and a kiln and getting into doll-making? And how about the jail story that I’ve begun sending bit by bit with changed names? It really shocked me when she said she hoped my Teddy Bear story was going along well. The “story” was simply a quick clip that was barely a page long, and that I sent her. Didn’t she get it?

Well, I decided to start saving and numbering my letters to her, letting her know to tell me if she’s ever missing a number. This will hopefully tell me, cuz I really need to know if someone is meddling with my mail so I can then figure out who it is and take the proper means to stop them. Mail tampering is a hell of a felony for real!

As for Teddy Bear, yes, it’s always possible that she didn’t get the letter and assumed I’d forgotten about her as Mary suggested, but I still believe that if she truly cared enough, she’d have called to find out what was going on for sure. If I were her and I didn’t get the letter and I truly cared, I’d say to myself, I changed workplaces, so maybe that’s why the letter didn’t make it to me. Rather than assume she’s blowing me off, I’ll at least call like she told me to in the first place if her letter didn’t make it to me. The worst that could happen is that we don’t see each other. And if I were her and I did get the letter but changed my mind for whatever reason, I’d at least have the decency to call and say something like, “Thanks for the letter and thanks for taking the time to breed the mice, but no thanks. I just wanted to tell you so you wouldn’t be left hanging and wondering what happened. Good luck in life and take care of yourself.”

Like it or not, she’s a phony. I was just a game to her. Just something to pass the time with. She lied to me by saying one thing and doing another. I know we’re not meant to ever see each other again and there’s no use in kidding myself about that. I have to move on and “bumping into her” at work like she suggested would be a bad idea. First of all, I wouldn’t want to see someone who no doubt doesn’t want to see me, and secondly, that would be stalking, and I don’t care to live up to the label I’ve got on me. Her suggestions and support are appreciated, though. Also, she said she hasn’t been able to find out anything on her cuz there are so many new DOs.

I used to complain about criminals/inmates having all the rights. Well, not here in Arizona they don’t! The rights all go to the victims, some of which are real and some of which aren’t, of course. Actually, the rights go to the “minorities.”

I’m totally stressing over tomorrow. I try to tell myself, to relax. It’s just God wanting you to worry. You know he loves to hang you with these freeloaders, so just chill out. Also, he loves to see you worry about one thing after another for no reason at all.

But what if there is a reason to worry this time around? I still can’t know for sure that they’re not gonna make any more unreasonable or impossible requests as I vibed in jail, but like I said a long time ago, I can’t do what I can’t do, and I won’t allow myself to be abused by the system any more than I already have. If he comes out and says these classes are going to be frequent and or costly, I’m gone. I don’t know where I’ll go, but I’ll figure it out. They may not leave me much of a choice. Just like with the freeloaders, one can only be pushed so far. If they push me to put my foot down, then maybe they’ll think next time if they want to make a buck off of someone that bad. They won’t just be losing control over me if they force me to run, they’ll be losing my $40 a month, too.

I’ll bet if one studied the stats, they’d find that the number of criminals, real or imagined, doesn’t fluctuate much out here. Gotta keep things steady to keep business moving. The state uses whatever sources it can to make money. They depend on criminals just as much as the taxpayers. As Gina said at the recycling center, as soon as one leaves, another one comes in.

It’ll be interesting to see how the doll company handles us sending the second doll back. I wonder if they’ll give us back our money, thinking the doll we sent back was the only one we ever got, but I doubt it.

It’s been 20 days since we ordered Joy. I hope she comes in soon! The sooner I get her, the sooner we can find out about the classes if God will let me work for me for a change and not for the state. If they won’t drop this class thing, then I’ll really take that as a sign reminding me that my life doesn’t belong to me! At that point, I won’t bother with classes, if my purpose in life must be to serve others. If God wants me to be a state servant that bad, then that’s just what he may get! I mean, wouldn’t he just love me if I volunteered at the recycling center, which I’d hate, of course.

I was surprised when I saw that I awoke at 124 pounds. I may’ve quit trying to lose weight, but I haven’t gone crazy, either. Then, I turned around and shit 3 times over the next few hours, losing two pounds. So, I guess I was just bogged down in shit.

Friday, June 7, 2002

Well, today’s the day. I should find out today what’s going on with the class shit. Tom says taking adult education classes is no big deal, and that the most it could be - and this is extreme - would be a few times a week since they know people have to work, but it’s a big deal to me. He can play this down all he wants, but it’s a big deal to me, ok? Even if it was a free 5-minute class, it’s a big deal as long as it’s connected to the freeloaders. freeloader-induced activities are a big deal, and it’ll also be a big deal if I have to be put out yet again all cuz of someone’s spite and misconception.

How is it that so many people have had such control over my life? Meanwhile, I couldn’t control another human being like this even if I wanted to, though I don’t want to. I just want to be left alone. But if I misunderstand someone, I just misunderstand them. No harm done to anyone. But with me, it could turn my life upside down if someone misunderstands me.

Why must I be the one to have to pay for people’s stupidity?! I always used to think it best to play down all I knew so I could surprise someone if I needed to use what I knew against them, but now I realize just how important it is to appear alert, receptive and like you know what’s going on, even if you really don’t.

I’m also sick of Tom making me feel worse when I bitch about this shit, too. He’s done nothing but play the situation down and make me feel, in a sense, like I’m a fool to get upset over it or to worry about what else these freeloaders may do.

When I told him I wanted to get rid of the baby males, he got all upset over the money spent on the new cage cuz we had plans to breed. He always gives me a hard time when I want to get rid of animals, but anyway, I told him I would’ve wanted that cage anyway. It’s a much better cage. Besides, we did try to breed Little Buddy and it didn’t work, not that I can complain since Lady was so spastic. The point is, he bitches about money spent on a cage that I love and wanted either way, but the black bitch fee? Hell, that’s just another bill. No big deal. As soon as I bitch about the freeloaders or the state, he’s quick to either defend them or play the situation down and I’m fed up with it. I really am. So, if I get told what I don’t want to hear today, I’m just going to grin and bear it till I can get home and unleash my anger and frustration in this journal.

I wish to hell I could brainwash myself into believing this is all my fault and that I deserve the sentence I got! But even if I were guilty as hell, no one deserves to be thrown in jail for something they wrote, nor should they be left on probation afterward for this long and lose so much money over it. There’s no way, guilty or not, I could ever consider myself a criminal, let alone a stalker. I never “stalked” these sick fucks, nor did I do anything else other than express myself. The only thing I did wrong was that I did resort to words and not actions. And those words were sent to a hateful, prejudiced, emotional wimp who couldn’t handle what I had to say, and she used/abused her connections against me. No one out here deals with people head-on. They cower behind the corrupt law.

God definitely decided I should be born a follower and not a leader. But I don’t want to be either! I just want to be myself. I don’t tell others what to do with their lives and I’m sick of people telling me what to do with mine! It’s not right. It’s just not right and it’s not fair.

It’s still utterly appalling to think that a perfect stranger (Judge H) could sit in judgment of me as he did, and have such a huge impact on me, my life, and Tom’s life as well.

You know what else? I thought about it and said, fuck it! I’m decrypting all my journals. If any pig were to steal them, though I’ll be damned if I’ll submit to “search and seizure” if I can help it, they should read all I have to say about them as well as other shit I’ve written. Let them read it all! I want them to. If they want to take the time and go to all the trouble, they should at least get their reading pleasure out of all this now, shouldn’t they?

It almost makes me laugh when I think of all the legwork the pig and the state have gone through to get at me. And all for a letter. When you think of all the paperwork, the time, etc., it’s just so asinine that it’s almost comical. The state’s probably spent more on paper and ink than we have in the last 8 years just to give the media and whoever else copies of the journals. When I found out on sentencing day that the pre-sentencing guy had written down everything I had said over the phone word for word, I was like, “Oh, my God! All that work? All that time and energy into copying down every single little thing I said when all he had to do was write down the highlights which would’ve been plenty enough to get my point across (not that anyone gave a damn).”

Of course, I’m sure he had to throw in a few words of his own along the way and twist some of mine, too.

“Justice.” Why was the word ever invented? There’s no such thing. Not by people, not by God. The only things there are are competition, spite, control, power, vindictiveness, greed and revenge. It’s all a game in the eyes of all the players but the real victims.

Paula’s so lucky and she doesn’t even know it. Yeah, she called last night. For slugging a pig, she gets a 1-year suspended sentence. All she has to do is report once a month and stay out of trouble so she doesn’t go to jail for 90 days. No one will be coming to her house and she doesn’t have to pay a dime. The $270 fine was waived cuz she’s poor. If she’d have slugged a pig out here, she’d be looking at a huge sentence. She’d probably do 3-10 in prison, then years and years of probation afterward. Having Section 8 and Justin may help her a bit, but not too much.

She gave me her email address. I’ll email her later.

The bulk of the conversation was about what most of our chats are about - her being furious with the Puerto Rican she’s seeing that she thinks is cheating on her.

When she told me she sent two letters over the last couple of months (and I believe her), this really raised a red flag as far as my suspicions about the mail tampering go. My mounting suspicions really worry me. You’ve got Mary, who seems to be missing letters from me. Pérez, who seems not to have gotten my letter, and Paula, who can’t seem to get mail to me to save her life. Some of it is probably made up just to get me to keep on writing her, but she wouldn’t have not written for this long. Something’s going on. But who is it and why are they doing this? I know the PO’s incompetent, but this is a little overkill, and I really wonder yet again if Teddy Bear ever got my letter, though she still could’ve called.

Once again I must ask myself, am I being paranoid, or is someone out to get me? The only one that could be doing this is the pigs and maybe even Scot, too. Maybe they’re looking to see who I correspond with so they can hope to get me thrown back in jail. But if that’s the case, what’s taking so long? How many more letters to and from Mary and Paula do they need? Are they just taking a letter here and a letter there while hoping to find something going to the freeloaders? Is that it? Or could the PO really be that fucked up while Paula tells me nothing but bullshit lies?

Then there’s another possibility. One worse than any meddling pigs. Could Tom be withholding any mail from me? And if so, why? I certainly can’t imagine why he’d do that and it seems highly unlikely, but I know that anything’s possible. I mean, why would he not give me mail from Paula? And if Teddy Bear or Pérez did write, why would he not give me their mail? Would he be that jealous? I doubt it. If it isn’t a case of lies and incompetence, then someone’s looking to get my ass.

Later…

Un-fucking-believable! Scot never even mentioned the class thing. Not a word either way. I was really surprised. Of course he had to comment on how much time I had left. I asked Tom, “Is he really that forgetful, or is he just looking to see if I am?”

“He’s just making small talk. There’s only so much to talk about,” he said.

How about how hot it’s been? Anything else for a change.

Yeah, I know. I sound just like Dureen.

Anyway, I’d rather hear nothing than hear I have to take classes, but it would’ve been even better if I could’ve been told I don’t have to take them so I could be done with it. Instead, I still have it hanging over my head. I think these freeloaders and the shit they cause will always be hanging over my head!

He seemed like he was in a bad mood. Not by anything he said, but it was just something I sensed, aside from his usual cold, impersonal self. This guy needs to loosen up! Then again, as long as he doesn’t fuck me over, he can be Mr. Serious of the Year for all I care.

I told him about the doll-making plans we have. At first he said absolutely nothing. Then he asked how much dolls usually cost and when I plan to get into it.

The letter with the postage due from Mary shed a lot of light on this mail mystery. There is no mystery after all. She did get my letters and the bear probably did, too. That leaves only Paula. Paula, who happens to call right after I said I wouldn’t write till I heard from her. How convenient.

Yeah, I’m now convinced she isn’t writing. If someone was meddling with the mail, why would hers be the only letters they took?

Mary did put extra postage on after all, but the cheap bastards at the PO still wanted their 12 precious cents.

Another favor too, she wanted. She sent pages she tore out from an astrology book and asked me to type them for her. Instead, I just scanned them.

She really likes the idea of my getting into doll-making. She wants a doll with fuchsia hair and purple eyes someday. Yeah, I know she likes those colors.

The few DOs who knew Teddy Bear say they haven’t heard anything about her since she left. Mary still thinks she didn’t deliberately hurt me. I’d like to think that too, but it seems rather obvious that I was blown off by her, whether or not she got my letter and I think she did. The more I think about it, the more I’m pretty sure that the only one playing games with the mail is Paula. I don’t need to number my letters to Mary.

Mary agrees that writing is very therapeutic, and she too, is good at writing sex scenes. I included one for her that I always had when I was alone in 3. One where the bear would lick my pussy or we’d kiss while I’d massage her achy shoulders when she’d stop by on walks.

Saturday, June 8, 2002

It makes keeping a schedule really hard when you need so much damn sleep! I couldn’t drag my ass out of bed till 9:30, an hour later than I’d have liked. Watch, I’ll be tired all day. Then come early evening, I’ll wake right up. Maybe I’ll take Benadryl at 9:30, so I can have my damn 12 hours of sleep. I believe I only got 10 this time around.

I ask myself, what if I could choose between staying right here with the freeloaders very much a part of our lives, or going back to Massachusetts and living in the same nice house, also on 10 acres, with no freeloaders involved? Would I return to Massachusetts? You know, I think I would. After all, the only real thing I hated about New England, besides its weather, was the fact that things tended to be a little too old and a little too expensive. Things are different now, too. I wouldn’t have to be out playing bus in the cold, snow and humidity. It would be very hard for us to afford a house there, though. Very few houses there are under $100,000.

Later…

At 1:00, our power went out. We figured it’d be back on in a few, but by 3:00, it was near 90 in here. Tom put batteries in his old radio and learned that the power was out in Maricopa and Stanfield, which they were calling Stanford.

So we went to Walgreens in Casa Grande and I picked up a few neat things. Glittery hair ties in various colors, very berry lip gloss, two sports bras, Sunflowers cologne, and some nail polish I shouldn’t have bothered with. It’s supposed to be light pink in warmth, blue in cold, and green/gold in UV rays, but it’s not that impressive. It feels rubbery, too. It has no shine and is barely visible even with 3 coats cuz it’s so light. That chrome nail polish is definitely the best.

Anyway, I put some of the glitter ties in a few of the doll’s hair, but on Jade, they’re bracelets. She has 3 on each wrist. With Mei Lin, I put 6 different colored ties down the length of each of her two ponytails. It totally goes with her outfit. I used a white one to tie Chris’s ponytail with, a pink/gold one as Falling Star’s headband, a gold one around Emerald’s ankle to go with the gold accents in her green dress, a pink one around Bailey’s ankle, a silver one around the skating Barbie’s waist, one as a tube top for another Barbie, and to tie off two of the Indian doll’s two braids with, I used pink, purple, blue and black. I’m sure I’ll decorate future dolls with them as well as my own hair.

Sunday, June 9, 2002

I have thought of Teddy Bear every day for nearly a year and a half now, and I have to wonder, will there ever come a day when I don’t think of her? I doubt it. I just wish I knew what happened! I’m only 95% sure she got the letter and blew me off for either someone else or cuz I’m married, not 100%.

Damn you girl, get back to Estrella so Mary can at least question you!

But I know this will never happen, and if it does, Mary will be gone by then.

In less than an hour, I’ll have been here a decade. That’s something I have mixed emotions about. I still like Arizona, but over the years I’ve found more and more things not to like about it.

Despite its hardships, how different my life is now than when I stepped off that plane 10 years ago! I was 25 pounds lighter with barely a gray hair or two. My only friend was a pothead, and I had no furniture or place to live. Then God nearly starved me to death!

How dumb and naïve I was to have gotten involved with anyone I met at the pool or anywhere else around there. I can’t be held responsible for people’s actions like Andi’s, Rosemarie’s, Donna’s, Robert’s, Mark’s or Ellie’s, but you know what? If I had ignored them, none of my problems with them would’ve happened.

Well, sort of. I have to take that back when referring to Andi. With just a thin little wall between us, it was rather impossible to ignore her shit, just like with the freeloaders. Sometimes we’re just too close to our enemies to be allowed the privilege of ignoring them.

Tuesday, June 11, 2002

I couldn’t get up at 8:00 like I wanted to. I had to sleep till 10:00 instead. Since I had 10 hours of sleep today, maybe I can get by with just 8 tomorrow. If I could only fall asleep earlier! And if I only didn’t need so much fucking sleep! I thought we were supposed to need less sleep when we got older. I guess that really means old kind of older.

After calling two places yesterday that wouldn’t take the rats, we dumped the male babies before leaving for the new mall in Chandler.

At the mall, we looked for a place that sold that hair-streaking stuff, but never found a place that did. We went into the As Seen on TV store and got this shower massager with a rotating brush that I’ve been wanting. It really scrapes away dead, flaky skin.

We ate in their food court, before heading to a strip mall where they had the hair stuff.

Tom did my hair for me, since it’s so long, and it was a bust. I should’ve known better, too. Especially since it said it was better on lighter hair. My hair was too dark for it, so you can’t even tell anything was done to it. I’ll have to get a color, especially for darker hair, or I’ll just dye it all dark brown. I’m still not sure when I’ll cut it.

One thing’s for sure and that’s that Scot couldn’t have come to the house yesterday. Not with God knowing I wasn’t home to have to deal with him.

As unfair as it is, it’s good that I’m home and answer the door as quickly as I can when he does come around. I wouldn’t want too many absences to get him all paranoid and think we’ve got something to hide in here when we don’t, thus making trouble for us, then ultimately for himself and anyone else dumb enough to get involved. I will file the biggest harassment lawsuit, plus whatever else I can think of along the way if he even thinks of tossing this house. Then they can say I hate whites too, and act like these poor, poor victims.

As I said before, this isn’t a county jail cell. This is my home. And the state and its drones aren’t about to play mommy and daddy with me on the home front if they know what’s good for them!

I have to back down a good 5 pounds or so. I’m not looking to get skinny, but 125 pounds is a bit uncomfortable for me. It gets a bit hard to get around. I’ve been slacking off on any kind of aerobic activity, and it goes to prove once again that it really does help. It won’t make you skinny like dieting can, but it’ll help keep your weight from going up. So, I’ll row or walk and put myself on a low-cal diet for a few days. It’s no big deal. Not like it would be if I tried to tell myself I was going to get down to 100-110. Even getting down to 115 would be quite a battle. I know I’d look better and that my clothes would fit better, but it’s not worth the slavery it’d take to get down there. Also, the lower my weight is, the harder it is to maintain it.

We saw an exercise bike in Sears, which was amazingly comfortable and quiet! The seats sure have changed. They’re not like the seats of regular bikes anymore. They have seats wide enough for even the fattest of asses, and a nice comfortable back, too. The one we saw, which was one of their smallest, was for $180. We both agree we want to get it at some point and put it in the den (I already made room for it). That way, I can row to at least one half-hour show a day and it won’t be so boring.

Meanwhile, the walker is a bit too strenuous and the rower makes these clanky sounds, making it hard to hear a TV or anything like that, so I just row to music.

Also, I had stopped doing ab crunches to see if the zapper alone would be sufficient enough, but it’s not. The two of them combined work best, so I’ll start crunching again.

Later…

It’s possible that someone may’ve bought the land across the street cuz I saw some cock in a red pickup get out and look for property markers the other day, and today, a county car was sitting in the road for a while. This could mean that they’re going to grade the road for bringing a house in and to deter people from driving on the property.

Whenever a house gets over there, I’ll have mixed emotions about it. It’ll do us good money-wise, but we’ll lose even more privacy. Knowing they’ll just have to sit at the front of their house, and I’m sure the house will be closer to the road, we’ll have to see them and their dogs, which may be a bit audible, depending on just how close to the road they settle. We’re 150’ from the road, so if they end up 150’ from the road too, which seems logical, that’s 300’ which would be closer than next door is at about 400’. Not a thrilling idea, but anything’s better than having blacks and Hispanics 3’ away.

Wednesday, June 12, 2002

I’m hungry but down a pound.

Got a letter from Mary today. This time around her request was to print and send her any articles about Monster’s being crazy. Despite the nature of the crime, all I could find was one little paragraph outlining the highlights of the case. I sent it to her.

She said something about making hair locks out of her shedded hair and asked if I wanted her to send me one. I’m not sure I know what she means by making hairlocks, but sure, send me what you want, I told her.

Teddy Bear’s a hopeless, lost cause in my life that’s now a closed chapter, but I thanked her for asking around.

Oh, and I wouldn’t necessarily believe everything you read in the Bible, I told her, pertaining to how she quoted the Bible’s saying “The truth will set you free.”

The truth will set you free? Yeah, right! I suppose that’s why I was there. It just doesn’t always work that way. At least, not for me it hasn’t.

She says now the captain says she can’t release any of her money. What happened to their release of property thing? As I agreed with her, it is unfair that she can’t release her own money. Just one more stupid, arbitrary rule to control people with, huh? I guess it works out for the better, though, since Tom couldn’t get the money anyway.

Then what she had to say next got me pissed. It’s about Hope, who’s been a regular little user and has turned against Mary for finally putting her foot down. I told her I didn’t care if she showed Hope what I had to say about her.

She said she’s been taking care of Hope financially all these months and that she worries about telling Todd and her uncle, who’s dying of cancer, cuz she doesn’t want them all pissed off and worried.

I was shocked that she could let someone use her like that, but more so I was downright pissed. Damn that little greedy, rude, selfish, spoiled, immature, vindictive wimpy bitch! And her family too, for telling Hope over the phone that Mary should share her stuff with her. And just why should she? Since when is Hope K her daughter and her responsibility? To what does she owe her the honor of being her slave? It’s a good thing I’m not there! And I don’t care if the little fuck reads my opinion of her, but God help her if she gets my address and writes me cuz that’ll be an immediate page 2 for her if she does. Yes, I’ll be running to the piggies myself and I’ll be filing charges quicker than my electric nail filer can file my nails if I hear from her.

I told her she doesn’t have to worry about telling Todd or her uncle. All she has to do is stop giving to her. If she can’t handle it, tough shit! That’s her problem.

Yeah, I figured she was either a pervert or a child beater. She broke her kid’s ribs, she told me. Lovely, huh? I could kick myself for feeling bad for her when the emotional wimp cried hysterically on the phone that day in April, then passed out (probably faked it), then was maxed and sent to A Tower. (yeah, I could kick myself for a lot of things)

She really pissed me off that time I was fighting with Teresa and Laticia, who were just as rude, childish and as selfish as she is. It was none of her business, the beef was between me and them, yet she just had to go and stick her nose in it anyway. She needs to learn to mind her own fucking business! She’s never gonna survive in prison. I’d bet my favorite doll that she doesn’t get out alive. She’s gonna fuck with the wrong person there. I know it. I just know it, and I told her so.

Oh, and to run and call Mommy over it is so incredibly childish. That’s like some little kid running and crying out, “Mommy, mommy, she won’t let me play with her dolly!” Oh, boo-hoo. Poor, poor thing! That was just as childish as when she ripped up the note I had for Teresa. The mature, adult thing to do would’ve been to just ignore me. Then she had the nerve to write, “You wouldn’t be saying these things if there weren’t doors and walls between us.”

Oh, yes I would, I thought to myself. Who does she think she’s kidding if she’s implying I’d be afraid to speak my mind to her and her little friends to their faces?

Believe me, back then, I wished there weren’t doors and walls between us, and I’d love to be back there for just two minutes, but I couldn’t write all about the things I’d like to do to her in my letter. As we learned, there’s no such thing as “freedom of speech.”

Hope’s a hypocrite, too. She also wrote in that kite to me that I was bossing the pod around, which as Mary knows from being there, was pure bullshit. Meanwhile, she’s sitting there telling people to do this and do that.

People like her really make my blood boil! Who the hell is she to think she’s owed anything from anyone after all she’s done and the way she treats people? She has no conscience or empathy for others. All she cares about is herself. Just wait till she gets to prison. They’ll set her straight there. She won’t be a little beggar there. Or a big-mouthed, back-stabbing hypocrite.

I feel so bad for that kid of hers. Imagine being that kid, and one day you’re asked where your mother is and all you can say is, “Oh, my mommy broke my ribs so she’s in prison till she gets a taste of her own medicine.”

I have no sympathy for this sick twist simply because she admitted to what she did, according to Mary. Doesn’t make her any less guilty. She’s still a subhuman piece of shit I’d spit on then step on as if she were merely a cockroach or yesterday’s trash.

Well, she can just remind her that she came to Estrella as a witness, not to be her servant. She doesn’t owe her shit, so whether she’s being a spiteful little greedy, spoiled bitch or a major sweetheart, she shouldn’t let herself be used. She’ll never get a dime of that money back.

Hopefully, she’ll either shut up, mind her own damn business, fend for herself and leave Mary alone, or one of them can be moved. Hope should be the one to move if it comes to it cuz she’s the one causing trouble.

Why can’t I run into people like Nancy K, Teresa B and Hope K on the streets where I have nothing to lose? Then again, you know God never lets me get away with anything. As soon as they got out of the hospital, they’d either come torch our house, or I’d go to jail. Even worse, they might do something to Tom.

Thursday, June 13, 2002

Just got done changing both the mice and rat cages.

I’m down two more pounds, so I’m 122.

Got up an hour and a half later than planned, at 9:30. So I got 9½ hours of sleep, although I could’ve used the usual 10-11.

I’m beginning to wonder if JBS fouled up our order. After all, it’s a doll for me, so why not? If we were ordering anything else, like a mural, then there’d be no problem. They were pretty speedy with Jade’s kit, though, so we’ll see. The deadline is Tom’s birthday.

I had a series of weird dreams, but the only one I remember is a bad one pertaining to Paula. I was at her apartment when two cops came to arrest her. The male pig told her she was in the biggest amount of trouble she’d ever been in as he cuffed her, then led her to a cruiser with a scrawny blond female cop following with her gun drawn. I asked the male pig if he needed me to stick around and he told me he didn’t.

So where are you, Scot? You like to visit me on the 13th (3 X’s on the 13th). Maybe he’ll skip June altogether or come next week right before I see him. He also likes to see me before I see him.

Of course, I still have this class bullshit hanging over my head, since he didn’t say they were omitting it. Even if they did, they’d just pick on me with something else. Watch, with my shit luck, they’ll try to extend my probation, saying I didn’t do it so it still needs to be done. Well, I can guarantee them one thing for sure and that’s that that’ll never happen. Come October 30th of 2003, if I ever hear from any law enforcement person(s) ever again pertaining to this sick black bitch, I’ll sue the shit out of this state so damn fast, Maricopa County will be left in a daze for decades.

Why the fuck do they even have such a thing as “freedom of speech” if we can’t exercise this so-called right in the first place? Well, I’m sorry, Arizona, but I have a right to say what I want to and to dislike any person or group of persons I want to, goddamnit! When I lay a hand on someone and it isn’t in self-defense, then they can bitch about it.

Friday, June 14, 2002

Another pound down. I’m taking a break today, which should cause me to gain two pounds back, but I’ll be dieting again over the weekend. Then Monday we’ll be going out to eat, so I won’t resume dieting yet again, if I decide to continue with it, that is, till Tuesday.

I was browsing through the more humorous wallpapers last night when I came across one that would’ve been perfect for the freeloaders. It showed a hand holding a gun and said: Warning! I don’t dial 911. When I commented to Tom about it, instead of having any kind of a sense of humor about it, he said, “Yeah, that’s how all this trouble got started.”

When I asked what he meant, he said, “If you hadn’t thought that way in the first place, all this trouble wouldn’t have happened.”

Yeah, I know. It’s all my fault. Everything’s always my fault. Of course, it’s just as easy for me to say that if he had let me handle the bitch my way to begin with, we wouldn’t be in this mess. Nor would we if he’d listened to me when I told him something was very wrong with Paul, paid off Sharon, and stayed away from the courthouse.

I know Tom blames me way more than he blames them, besides the fact that it’s in Tom’s nature to blame me when I’m mad at or having a problem with someone. I don’t think it’s right and I believe he should stand by his wife, but this is just the way he’s always been. If I start bitching about Jane Doe or Joe Shmoe, he’ll start bitching at me for bitching at them, implying either directly or indirectly that I have no grounds to be pissed at them, and perhaps I asked for trouble somehow.

Believe me, I know it’s my fault even though it isn’t. Meaning, I’m not responsible for the freeloader’s actions. I didn’t make them harass us the way they did, nor did I do anything to them to deserve it, other than to ask them to lower their music. If that’s provocation in the freeloader’s eyes, then that just goes to prove how warped they truly are, though they picked on us before we asked them to quiet down and would’ve done so if we never said a word to them as well. They were in their own little world, oblivious to those around them unless they were putting thought into badgering me, like by chaining the dog to the jeep in the carport, so it could be as close as possible to our house.

I kick and blame myself all the time for how I handled the freeloaders, the pigs, Paul - the whole damn thing. However, nothing I did/said/wrote warrants being locked up and placed on probation. I didn’t ask for the shit these freeloaders gave me. I never deserved the shit they gave me directly in Phoenix, and I never deserved the shit they’ve given me through the Jew-hating pig and our minority-pampering system after leaving Phoenix, either. Regardless of guilt or innocence, anyone can say/write that they’re gonna kill someone. Anyone can. 95% of the time it’s just talk. Meanwhile, if we were to lock up everybody who made a threat at one point or another during their lives, 95% of the population would be locked up.

Although I wanted to rip the shit out of Nancy, and although I knew I couldn’t stand to be her celly one moment longer, I knew she was full of it when she threatened me. She knew I’d have Chavez pull me and that’s exactly what she wanted at first so she could be alone till she got bored being all by herself.

I’m not saying no one acts on their threats, but 9 out of 10 times, those who are serious act if they’re going to act, they don’t make threats. Most threats are either said in moments of anger or simply meant to intimidate people or to get them off their backs.

Nothing bothers me more than when Tom said, “I just want to see that she gets help” at the sentencing. I mean, what kind of a defense is that? Doesn’t he realize how guilty that made me seem? He even had Paula believing I picked on the cunt for no good reason at all and told her I’d probably do it again.

Yes, he’s stuck by me through all this shit, but just how much is he really on my side?

The wallpaper site I’ve been into lately, lets you send their pictures as e-cards, the equivalent of postcards. I’ve sent pink flowers to Tom for our anniversary tomorrow, and then a couple of rabbits on a skateboard for his birthday.

It’s been 28 days since we ordered Joy. Something’s wrong. How the fuck am I gonna be a dollmaker if I’m always going to have to chase down the dolls?! I’m sure God will have me fighting for greenware just as much as he does assembled dolls. Still, we’re ordering those dolls from Paradise Galleries tomorrow. I’ll make sure he hangs onto the order number so that we can have them put a trace on whatever dolls I don’t get in 30 days from tomorrow.

In other news, I made the comment to Tom that I’d probably never have sex again in my life, meaning that no one seems to be serious when they claim to be attracted to me and want me.

Then he said, “I know, you told me.”

I was like, “No I didn’t. What do you mean, I told you?”

Then he goes on to say that I told him I wouldn’t do it with him, and I’m like - what I crock! I never said that. What I said was that I could live without it, since it was nothing new and exciting. Besides, he’s a bore in bed. I didn’t need to tell him this, though. But it’s nothing personal against him. These days nothing could turn me on but a woman I was attracted to going down on me and that’s never going to happen.

It’s all bullshit, though. Just bullshit. Why can’t he admit that we both have no interest in getting it on together? Like I said, if it isn’t gonna be the bear going down on me here and there, I’d rather be celibate. I can’t get it on with just any woman, so I guess this means God wants me to be faithful, even though he cursed the sex life we used to have, even if it was a joke of one. Despite the fact that I no longer desire sex or a kid, I still feel just as picked on by getting a man who only gets hard as I do blessed by him sending me someone with Tom’s personality.

I just don’t get God. It’s like he has a weak moment where he’s suddenly in this wonderful mood and he blesses me with something good, but most of the time he just wants to hurt me. He lives for seeing me hurt. How totally cruel of him, after allowing me to be thrown in jail when I never should’ve been there in the first place, to finally, after all these years, meet and fall in love with a woman I’m attracted to, who was attracted to me back, or so she said, only to put the joke on me in the end. I’m sure he was up there laughing his ass off every time I’d sit and think in excited anticipation of seeing her again on the outs.

Is he up there laughing down at me right now? Is he saying to himself, so, she thinks she’s gonna be a dollmaker, huh? Well, I guess I’ll just have to remind her who’s in charge of her life, and it ain’t her!

Later…

Earlier I had said to myself and to Tom, “It’s only dolls, so why would God stop me from making them?”

Just because he can. Foolish or not, I’m not giving up, though it doesn’t matter that it’s only dolls. It doesn’t matter if it’s something as farfetched as jumping to the moon, or as natural as having a baby. If it’s what I want, it’s probably out of the question. He can stop me by having people fuck up on me like they do when I try to get assembled dolls. He can stop me from selling any by simply making sure no one buys any. With God as my enemy and a force that’s a million times more powerful than anyone in this world, I don’t stand a chance if he stands against me.

I know God views, judges and treats us all differently. Some of us he hates, some of us he likes, some of us he loves. I think the only way he’d truly love me would be if I did everything I didn’t want to do. If I ate things I didn’t like, wore clothes I didn’t like, and did things I didn’t like. But whenever I can help it and get some say in the matter, it’s not going to happen.

I don’t have to sit and guess or wonder if he’d have the courts punish anyone who beat, raped or killed me. I know the answer to that. He wouldn’t just let them get away with it, he’d reward them with all kinds of wonderful things in life. If a person with an average life harmed me like that, all of a sudden they’d be winning the lottery, getting the job promotions, getting lucky in love and they’d have virtually no health problems. They would have the willpower to quit smoking or lose weight if they wanted to.

Saturday, June 15, 2002

Now that’s a writer who learned her lesson the hard way. The woman who founded American Atheists had a magazine in which she used to slander someone she fired. It got her shot and killed, so maybe this will make some people think first.

I know I could never be a writer. Not the kind that writes about people in papers and magazines. Too many sensitives out there. Besides, slandering people would be required of me. That’s what the media is all about - bashing people they don’t even know to entice the public. Well, to me, it wouldn’t be worth the risk of pissing off the wrong person and getting killed.

I’ve got to wonder, didn’t the person who decided they knew me well enough to write a whole big article on me consider this possibility? Do they ever consider it?

Tom will be home in an hour or two and then we’ll order the dolls and get the chase on. As for Joy - fuck it. I’m either there to get her or I’m not cuz I’m letting my schedule go in a day or two. If I’d known she was going to be this late, I wouldn’t have held my schedule back in the first place.

We may switch to AOL cuz they’re having a deal that could save us $100 over the next year. I also want a new screen name. From now on, I’m only Dawn to Mary, who’s Moon to me. That’s her nickname. I think I’ll be ratlady1204.

Tom explained to me what he meant when he said he just wanted to see that I got help at the sentencing hearing, but it makes no sense to me. He said that as a last-minute thing, he thought his reminding the judge about Helen and my willingness to see Helen might save me from jail time, but as soon as it was our turn to talk, I knew that the judge decided long before we even stepped in that courtroom to throw the book at me, so to speak. I don’t know how Tom thought that kissing up to the judge would suddenly change his mind. Even if the black bitch herself had come out and said, “You know, this really isn’t fair. After all, me and my associates are the ones that started this shit, and in a sense, we asked for anything we got from her. We harassed her and her husband, we lied, we exaggerated the truth, and besides, she doesn’t deserve punishment for anything she’s done anyway,” the judge still would’ve had it in for me. Once the people on the opposing side have made up their minds about you, that’s the way it stays, no matter what new evidence may be brought forth later on.

As I learned…No, honesty is not always the best policy. No, the truth does not always set us free. No, being cooperative (seeking Helen’s help) does not always help us. It all comes down to who has the power and the control, and what they want done.

I hope by now Mary’s learned a few lessons of her own; that sometimes you have to put your foot down, and to hell with it if people call you a bitch or stingy or confrontational.

Other than that, we’re just going to relax for our 8th anniversary and go out to a buffet on Monday.

I’m sure the cheeks will wake me up next week.

It’s only been an hour since I ate and I’m already starving. I want to wait two more hours, though. I’m spacing the 5 times I eat with 3-hour intervals. I had nearly 3000 calories yesterday, so I gained back one of the 4 pounds I lost. The plan is to diet over the weekend, then on Tuesday, I’ll decide whether or not I want to keep going with it. I doubt I will, though. I’ll probably just eat my way up to 125, then cut my calories till I get back down to 120. Then repeat the whole process.

Later…

Tom got in around noon, ate his lunch, then we ordered the dolls. We went to do it online but weren’t sure about ordering the dolls at the same time we ordered the membership. We felt it best to talk to someone so we could specify what coupons we wanted to use on what dolls. So, because Tom has a hard time understanding Chinese accents, I called and placed the order. Both Carmencita and Murganah will be $30 instead of $40 since we bought the $20 membership package which is good for a year. The Fairy of Cork will be the full price of $25. I don’t need to use the two free shipping coupons cuz I automatically get free shipping as it is for ordering over $99 worth of stuff. It totals $105 altogether. As Tom said, though, we can use the coupons on cheaper dolls.

I was surprised when she told me Murganah and the Fairy of Cork were out of stock. I really thought that if anyone was out of stock, it’d be Carmencita. So we’ll have to have them put a trace on Carmencita in a month, and Murganah and the Fairy of Cork will arrive late, but without any problems.

So, overall my life is good, even though the freeloaders are in it and Teddy Bear’s not.

Sunday, June 16, 2002

So, Scot, you gonna come wake me up this week? Well, you’re not coming tomorrow afternoon. That much I do know. That’s when we’ll be out. We decided to go to Red Lobster, then to a new bookstore to see what dollmaking books or magazines they may have.

I dreamt of Teddy Bear last night. I still hurt over her blowing me off. Not to the point where I’m shedding tears, but I wish I didn’t have to think of her every day. I’d ask God for help, but I know better. He wants me to think about her and hurt over her. My pain is his pleasure.

I ask myself “what if” questions a lot. Like, would I want to continue living if Tom died if I had all the money in the world? Definitely not, but if I did, would I seek out women? Definitely not. I would know better. Women were never meant to be unless they were settlements, or short-term if they weren’t. I was meant to be a man’s woman, but this doesn’t mean I’d go seeking out men, either. I would stay by myself.

Some people believe we meet the spirits of those we knew in life after we die, which is something I always dreaded since I don’t care to reunite with 99% of those I’ve known. However, the idea’s a bit more appealing if it’d reunite me with Teddy Bear so I could ask her what happened.

Maybe this is more my fault than hers. Maybe if I hadn’t been dumb enough to believe she was really attracted to me and wanted to get together with me, I wouldn’t be hurt like this.

I’m gonna be checking out a new series based on the 1984 movie The Dead Zone about a guy who wakes up from a 6-year coma with second sight.

I finally learned who made Bailey. The name Laura Palt was painted on the back of her neck, but that’s just the person who fired, painted and assembled her for sale such as I want to do. I was looking at a picture of a Donna Rupert doll named Bailey that was done up in an Indian slip. Although she had dark hair and eyes, I studied the picture and noted that the pouty expression was the same and so were the hands and the facial shape and features. She was also a 24”. I asked Tom his opinion and he agreed it was Bailey, too. I couldn’t tell if it was a sitting or standing doll, but that wouldn’t matter. Any legs could be assembled. Anyway, it’s nice to learn that your favorite doll was created by your favorite artist. I just may get her molds too, and give her a dark versioned twin sister.

Monday, June 17, 2002

Right on with the breakage bullshit. The AC crapped out on us today, though sometimes it was kind of working. Better that than our water or power.

Red Lobster was out of lobster so I settled on a broiled combo platter of shrimp scampi, scrod, scallops and crab cakes. It was rather overpriced for such skimpy portions, but filling enough when combined with the baked potato, the salad and the biscuits.

Tom got a cheeseburger with fries.

Some little kid screamed its lungs out for a while there, too. I don’t know why in the world parents bring their kids to restaurants before they’re at least 5 years old.

We looked online some more at kilns. We may be able to get a decent one for about $300, rather than $600-$800.

I still want that bike too, but I don’t know. He’d never use it and I know it wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference in my looks. I could exercise 8 hours a day, but as long as I’m not willing to continually cut my calories day after day after day, I’ll never be thin. It takes constant starvation, during and after you’ve arrived at your goal weight. Why lose weight I’ll only gain back? Even if I could snap my fingers and be 100-110, I’d only be back in the 120s in a few weeks.

I’ll never allow myself to eat just anytime I want to, though. I’d never stop gaining if I did.

After Red Lobster, we went to a bookstore in search of dollmaking stuff. We found a magazine called Doll Crafter and may subscribe to that and others. It also lists places that sell supplies in each state. Both Dolls, Bears & Surprises and JBS Dolls were listed.

I’m seriously beginning to think something’s wrong with Joy. Tom says he hopes there is so we can get a discount.

But how am I gonna make dolls if I’m so cursed with them?

Anyway, Tom got himself a computer book, then we hit Walgreens for hair dye. I was going to go dark brown but decided on ruby twilight once Tom pointed out how cool-looking the color was which I totally agreed upon. I didn’t do so good a job, though. Amazingly enough, one box was enough for all this hair, but I didn’t cover it too evenly. It still looks cool this way and more natural. The red is brighter and more vivid on my scalp than on the other parts, but it’s still a nice change. A nice dark, yet intense red. Nothing like Teddy Bear’s was.

Guess you wouldn’t find me so attractive now, would you, Teddy Bear?

Maybe she never really did in the first place.

Anyway, it was $4 and there was a 50¢ coupon enclosed for if I want to get more sometime. I printed out some pictures I took of it for Mary and Paula. Believe it or not, my face doesn’t look as big as I thought it would, but I’m no skinny-mini. You can see those hips of mine just fine. I’m pearing out and losing my hourglass shape. Where did these hips and tits come from, I wonder? They took nearly 30 years to show up.

So, Tom and I grabbed some drinks, and before we sweated on back home, Tom shocked the shit out of me by suggesting we both bleach our hair blond and then surprise Mom, Mary and Dave with it! Now that would be a sight to see. I never thought Tom would ever dye his hair. He looks good with the gray. You know how it is - gray hair makes a man distinguished-looking while it makes a woman look older. But I never thought he’d care to dye his hair. I always figured I’d look just as shitty as a blond as I did with it black, but we’ll see. If we end up hating it that much, we can always dye over it, but if I go blond, then I could streak colors in my hair. I’d probably use the violet in contrast to the blond in that case.

If Scot comes this week - let me guess - it’ll be Thursday. Yeah, that’s another popular day for him. It’s like he wants to get an idea if he’ll be seeing me the next day or not.

I’m only holding my schedule till Friday, whether or not Joy comes. If I can’t be there to get her, then I can’t. Meanwhile, Tom can ask the questions and Jade’s shoes can wait.

Tuesday, June 18, 2002

No Scot, no Joy. Tom thinks she’ll be in next week and I think something’s wrong. If she is, I won’t be able to get her with Tom cuz I’ll be on nights.

the cheeks will probably see me Thursday, if not, then who knows when? Maybe he’ll start coming around less now that I’m over the halfway marker. I wonder if he’ll come twice next January like he did last January, though common sense ought to tell him that if I’ve been dumb enough to be suckered into sticking this shit out this long, then there’s a damn good chance I’ll stick with it to the finish line. The finish line that I hope exists, I should say.

Something woke me up at 6:45 this morning, though I went back to sleep. I don’t know what it was. It was a thump of some kind. Actually, it sounded like a door closing somewhere, but Tom didn’t even get in till noon. I was too tired to get up and check it out.

I tell you, I’ve been woken up here more than in the Phoenix house. Sometimes I wonder if I shouldn’t go back to sleeping with the fan on high. As Tom said, though, here it’s easier to go back to sleep. Yeah, but still, why do I feel like I’m being punished for living in a house I’m not supposed to be living in?

And is it really a wise idea for me to delve into this dollmaking thing? If I really am cursed in that department, I’d have an awfully hard time trying to work in a business that already seems quite complicated enough. I don’t know, I still think it’s easier not to bother, as much as I want to. If I don’t bother to try, then I can’t be disappointed over failing, can I? And I still can’t imagine being able to suddenly do what I want with my time in that sort of way.

I should’ve applied the same rule to Teddy Bear, followed my head and not my heart, told myself she wasn’t meant to be and that I’d never see her on the outs anyway, so just forget it and don’t even bother with her.

I can’t believe how many dreams I’ve had pertaining to this woman! When that thump woke me up I had been dreaming of her. This time around we had a kid together somehow, and she was on a phone somewhere, telling someone I had the baby.

Wednesday, June 19, 2002

Yesterday, Jamie called from JBS while I was online, telling me to call her. I didn’t get the message until after the store closed. I called her when I got up at 10:00 today and she said she wanted to know whether or not to ship her to our PO Box or if we were going to come get her. I told her we’d come and get her. She’ll be in on Monday, she said, so we’ll either pick her up in the morning when they first open or the late afternoon.

Judging by what she said, we’re beginning to think Chari’s molds aren’t available and that she was mass-produced. Our timing really sucks, though, cuz Chari’s on sale now for $120. Then, as soon as she changes the tags, Chari will go back to the usual $209 and they’re gonna have a buy-one-get-one-free deal as long as the doll is of equal or lesser value. Damn! If we’d only waited a little while longer to order Joy.

Later…

I did some homework of my own and managed to find a site that sells Chari’s SFGW (soft-fired greenware) which is what we want to start with. But how would I find her black dress? If I can find her dress, then maybe I won’t get her from JBS, after all. Besides, we can’t come up with $120-$209 by Monday.

Thursday, June 20, 2002

No pre-reporting visit from the cheeks. I asked Tom if he thinks he’ll mention the classes tomorrow. He says no. Let’s hope he doesn’t! Like I said, one of these days I’m gonna surprise myself and do what I want in life. Not what others or fate tell me to do.

Got two letters from Mary. She wrote one last Saturday, then another on Sunday. Both were postmarked Monday the 17th, the day we were out (ain’t it funny how only Paula can’t seem to get mail to me?).

She agreed to take me up on my card-making offer, so as she requested, I chose a floral design (a bushel of roses on the front) and then printed what she wanted to say on the front cover, then on both the inside covers.

An address label company sent me several labels of various designs, so she’ll be seeing those. Paula will get a couple of them at some point, too.

You know, she really is by far the best pen pal I ever had. I thanked her so very much for writing as often as she does. She’s also making sure to answer my questions so I don’t go thinking she didn’t get the letter. I’m glad I have her for a friend and that I didn’t walk away like I considered doing.

She says she’s getting along better with Dope, as we call her, saying that at times she gets on Mary’s nerves for ignoring her, as she puts it. She’s standing firm against spending any more money on her. She didn’t show her what I wrote about her, so she doesn’t have to deal with her reaction. Yes, I know good and well that’s not something Dope could handle well. It’s ok, I told her, I was just venting on her behalf. Maybe she’ll want to give it to her in the future, like right before she leaves if she leaves first.

I’ll bet she must really wish we were cellies again now! No thanks, though. I’d rather be Tom’s celly here.

She said she was crushed to read that she abused her kids in the article I sent her from the net. I told her that I know she didn’t abuse her kids and so does she, and not to let the ways of the media get to her. It’s their job to make up lies and make people look bad. It should be illegal to slander people the way they do, but unfortunately, if you’re part of the media, you can say anything you want about anybody. They could’ve said I killed a dozen people and there wouldn’t have been anything I could’ve done about it. As Misery said, “The media’s never your friend.”

Nonetheless, I’m sorry the bullshit article upset her. I considered not sending it but then decided that since she did ask for whatever I could find, I’d send it, cuz she and I both know the truth. As an abused child myself, it’s all the easier for me to sense an abuser. They should’ve printed that she “pled guilty to neglect,” and not that she “pled guilty to abuse,” but see? That’s the media; always twisting things around.

As for this parole thing, I’m not sure what she’s talking about. She said something about being bummed out about them taking away 85% of the parole. I don’t understand that part of the law too well, nor can I even begin to guess how many years she’ll do, as I told her. I asked Tom if like me, and like most cases, if her plea bargaining was a mistake. He agrees with her, though, and says that if it’ll help put Monster in his place, then no it wasn’t. I told her that although I can’t say how many years she’ll get, be prepared and don’t be surprised if she gets many years of probation at some point. I reminded her that the system’s not about “justice” 99% of the time. It’s about power, control and money. The more people they can get and keep on probation, and for as long as possible, the more money they make. I asked Tom if he thought they’d have her on probation for life, and he says he doubts it cuz that’s usually for those convicted of sex crimes. It also depends on the state you’re in, too. I’m sure I don’t have to remind her of how different Arizona is compared to Massachusetts, though I did fill her in on Paula’s latest case.

Another thing I’ve learned, and which I told her about, is that no, honesty is not always the best policy, and no, cooperation doesn’t always help us. In other words, she can hope her good behavior helps, but I wouldn’t count on it. It’s going to depend on who’s got the leverage, what they think of her, etc. There are a lot of factors involved, and of course, life isn’t fair most of the time. Some may feel my way of thinking is negative, but to me, after all I’ve seen, heard and been through, I think it’s realistic, depressing or not. I just don’t think we should kid ourselves, is all. It’s best to hope for the best but to expect the worst. That way, one won’t get so disappointed in the end if things don’t go well.

I sent her the pictures of my hair dyed ruby red and told her that Tom suggested we bleach our hair in a month or two.

I asked her why she was on the bottom bunk this time. I know she always used to be up top whenever she could so she wouldn’t have to worry as much about getting moved. Maybe Dope was on top first. I hated the lower bunk in that cell cuz of the light right outside the door, but I also didn’t want my head by the desk right where the person above me would be climbing up and down.

She says the only DOs there that I knew are Misery and Pérez, and of course, she hasn’t seen Pérez. She says Misery’s the same old Misery, making her take shit off the walls. Then, just like with me, she shocked Mary by being nice and not bothering her with shit like that.

Boy, they really move those DOs around just like the inmates! Tom says they do it so they can’t have time to set up drug deals and other illegal activities.

I asked her if she’s ever had a crush on a DO, and if she had to do it with one of them, who would it be? Make it someone I knew too, I told her, so I can know who she was talking about. It’ll be interesting to see if it’s who I think it is (Teddy Bear). I also asked her if she’s ever been attracted to another inmate.

She liked the dolls, agreeing that Bailey’s the best. She liked Chris’s wings and Ciara’s gown.

She said she’d tell me more about James’s case sometime. That’d be nice. Also, knowing more of the details pertaining to both James and Gretchen might help us guess a little better as to what the outcome may be.

I wish Pérez would get back there so she can see if she got my letter or not.

Even more so, I wish Teddy Bear would get back there. She’s my only hope of finding out why she blew me off, but with my shit luck, she won’t return till after she’s gone. Also, there’s a chance Teddy Bear may not discuss it with her. Or maybe she’ll lie about it. If the real reason was cuz she’s seeing someone, she may just tell her that she simply decided it’d be best not to see each other.

If only she knew just how much I loved her and just how much she hurt me! I wonder how she’d feel about it. Probably not much. After all, I’m sure I’ve been the farthest thing from her mind since I left. I’m sure she rarely thinks of me.

I get by okay most of the time, but sometimes I still hurt pretty bad over her dumping me the way she did. Not just that, of course, but the not even calling to say thanks, but no thanks. Not even a simple little explanation. Nothing. It’s like she never existed and I never existed for her.

For a while there, I considered writing Helen a letter, explaining that I know I’m not her patient anymore, but could she give me advice on how to deal with this better and maybe get over her faster? I was going to tell her that it’s not like I’m not functioning or like I’m sitting around bawling my eyes out for hours at a time, it’s just that she’s always on my mind. I go to read and I’m suddenly distracted by a memory of her, then I refocus and begin to read more, till the thought of us getting it on distracts me once again.

After all, Helen has helped me in the past, like with understanding other possibilities concerning Tom’s dry dick, and in dealing with my anger over the freeloaders, not that they still don’t infuriate me cuz they do. I’m sure anyone else would feel this way too, if they were in my shoes. I’ll never be “okay” with what they’ve done to me.

Anyway, when I asked Tom’s opinion about it, he said it’d be rude to ask for free advice from her just because she’s a nice person, and after thinking about it, I see that he’s right. He said if I wanted to make an appointment, that’d be ok, but no thanks. I’m not that hard up for help. Besides, hasn’t enough money been spent on the freeloaders? I don’t need to start losing money over Teddy Bear, too.

I guess this is just one of those cases where time heals all wounds, but when? When??? In a few months? A few years? Never? When is she going to just go away? Just fade away and become an old memory that doesn’t surface much more often than Norah M from the Harley Hotel (the bitchy English supervisor I had a crush on)? She too, played with my head, saying she’d come visit me. Then, after I asked her about it, she was like, “No, I’m your supervisor and I’m scared of Springfield.”

She really couldn’t have told me this up front?

Anyway, I’m never going to get the closure that’d help me deal with this, which would be a phone call or a letter from Teddy Bear explaining why she did what she did, so I’ll just have to deal with it. Just have to wait it out and hope for the best.

Later…

Although I highly doubt Teddy Bear will return to Estrella while Mary’s still there, anything’s possible, so I decided that rather than have Mary tell her how I feel, I’ll do it myself. I’m going to type her a letter, then send it to Mary to give to her if God forbid she ever does see her.

Friday, June 21, 2002

Sure enough, the birds and the prairie dogs are happily sifting through the rat’s bedding that I just dumped out in the wash.

Tom was right. No mention of the classes. Mr. Serious himself was a bit looser today. A bit more talkative. Last time, it was like he was either in a bad mood, not feeling well, or tired. First we were held up by some mouthy dude who might as well have been coming to chat with an old buddy rather than his PO. This guy swore more than I do, too. When it was finally my turn to give him my form, he asked what was up and we told him about the car AC that crapped out on us.

See? Right on schedule. Can’t go more than 3-4 months without something expensive breaking. It’s a good thing Tom had that $500 from the stock money away to cover it. He better replace it too, as soon as he can so that we’re covered for the next thing that’ll break around September.

I mentioned looking forward to picking up Joy on Monday and getting class info.

When he asked if there were any changes, I said, “No. Well, actually, there is a change. You just haven’t noticed.”

Tom giggled at that point, then he noticed my hair and I said, “Yeah, I did a half-assed job, but I tried.”

Wait till he sees us both as bleached blondes!

Anyway, I was fucking sweating my ass off on the drive in and I thought the mister I brought along with me was broken. As Tom discovered right when we got there, the rubber ring had slipped to the side and just needed to be straightened out. That mister’s a real lifesaver, though. My heart was pounding just like it always does when I get overheated.

Anyway, he’s talking about either renting an air pump or borrowing one from work to convert the fucking thing so he can recharge it himself.

The weekend, which always seems to go too fast as long as the freeloaders are still in our lives, is going to go awfully slow this time around. That’s cuz we’ll be getting Joy Monday and I can’t wait! I think Tom’s gonna have to get her himself what with the way my schedule is now. Tomorrow, for the first time in over a month, I’m not setting the alarm!

The freeloaders wouldn’t let poor Tom sleep today. He didn’t get to bed till 10:00, then I woke him up at 1:00. If I’d known he didn’t get to sleep till that late, I wouldn’t have gotten him up till 3:00.

Anyway, at first I thought Tom couldn’t pick shoes out for Jade by himself, but it really wouldn’t be so hard for him. All he has to do is choose either a pair of plain white sneakers or sandals of some kind. If the shoes aren’t suitable for her, I’ll just use them on someone else.

Speaking of Jade, now that I’m getting to learn more about dolls, I made a discovery that both Tom and I laughed at. That 25” green-eyed Jade doll I like is my exact same Jade doll. They make her molds in either 25” or 32” like mine is, just like you can get Joy at either 19” or 26” like I’m getting.

They also have series depicting the same doll at different ages. There are a few dolls, Bailey being one of them, that have 3 different versions. There’s baby Bailey at 20”, then there’s my toddler Bailey at 24”, and sweet sixteen Bailey at 29”. I like the “Shay” series and I hope to have it someday.

Sometimes I can’t even decipher my own notes. A couple of lines down from where I’m actually typing, I like to list notes of the topics I wish to write about. Well, I’ve got the word slow written and I can’t figure out what the hell I meant by that. I’m like, what’s slow?

We both totally, totally mean it this time - we will never ever, ever go into another Dairy Queen as long as we live! Aaarrrggghhh! Those stupid, stupid Mexicans! I’m so sick of them and their stupidity and living in Little Mexico like this. Naturally, Tom insists it has nothing to do with people’s nationality, but I’m sorry, the bulk of them are either evil or downright dumb and illiterate.

We go in there and one of the two gigantic young and dumb Mexicans gives me the burger and fries I ask for in a reasonable amount of time. Shortly afterward comes my blizzard which is filled so full that ice cream’s slopping over its edges. The Mexie was too stupid to understand when I asked her to put the cup in its cover instead of trying to cover the top of the fucking thing and make even more of a mess. I don’t know if she had a problem with English or if she was just stupid, but I’m sure it was a combination of both. Meanwhile, Tom’s waiting and waiting for his own blizzard till he finally gets fed up and says, “Hey, look. He’s getting the same thing I ordered and you’ve served 5 others after I ordered.”

So the Mexie runs and makes him his blizzard, then he goes, “And then they don’t even fill it up.” And they didn’t. He got a large and I got a small, but between them not filling his and them overfilling mine, we ended up with the same amount.

I’m so sick of these stupid Mexicans, though. Sick of them! If they’d just get at least a high school diploma, instead of dropping out in 8th grade to join gangs, get high and spit out kids as fast as popcorn popping, maybe they wouldn’t be so fucking dumb. And goddamnit! This is America. We speak English here. I’m all for learning other languages, but if we’re gonna be dumb enough ourselves to let them keep pouring into this country, shouldn’t they at least have the decency to learn our fucking language if we’re gonna be forced to live together?!

I tacked a flag up to cover the skylight. It looks kind of cool with the light shining through the iris flag I chose, but we really could use a shade for it. It doesn’t cover it all, either. The skylight’s a few inches longer. Not as wide, though, so I folded it a bit.

I can’t pull any jokes on Tom to save my life, though as he admitted, it was a good try. It’s mostly because he knows I’m a little prankster and a joker. I tried to tell him that Lizzie Borden, who was accused and acquitted of axing her father and stepmother in Fall River, MA in 1892, was my great, great grandmother.

In truth, I don’t know when any of my grandparents were born, let alone when their parents were born. I don’t even know their names.

Tom knew that Lizzie Borden never had kids, and told me that if I had said she was a great, great aunt, then he may’ve bought the story.

Saturday, June 22, 2002

I was up 20 hours yesterday and slept for 10. Not without waking up several times in between for no reason. Once, I did have to pee, though.

Those freeloaders ran poor Tom ragged yesterday. He came home early from work yesterday, cuz he just couldn’t cut it on a few measly hours of sleep.

After having a dream that Teddy Bear was reconsidering calling me, there was a private hang-up a little while ago. I know it wasn’t her, though. She’d have left a message. It was just God teasing me with a few seconds’ worth of hope.

He’s so, so cruel to have let me fall for this woman on top of being thrown in jail. You know, we rarely get sales calls at this number, but during the two days after I sent the letter, there were a few of them. No doubt something up there wanting to tease me.

I can see, though, how seeing Teddy Bear may’ve only made things harder had we gotten together. I could’ve really ended up being torn between her and Tom, and if I had been dumb enough to choose her, it could’ve ended up ruining my life in all kinds of ways if things didn’t work out in the end.

Why oh why, then, did we ever have to meet? And if we did, why did she have to mean anything more to me than Palma or Pérez ever did?

I guess it’s a gender thing, too. More often than not, guys get too clingy while women blow people off.

I didn’t think to save a copy of my letter to Teddy Bear, so I’ve been trying to remember everything I wrote, asking myself if it could’ve gotten her in trouble. I don’t see how or why it would, but anything’s possible. It’s got to be either someone she met or something I said. What else could it be? Maybe it’s both. If it is something I wrote, then she’s more than likely going to always resent me for it. It’s not like she’d ever get over it, forgive me, then call me up to see how I’ve been, saying she had to deal with some personal problems or that she was just too busy to call right away.

She wouldn’t call if it was someone else either after they broke up or something. I mean, what’s she gonna say? That she couldn’t call right away cuz she had a girlfriend and now that they broke up she’d just love to see me?

Oh, Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear, how do I ever get over you??? How would she feel if she suddenly could know how much I loved her and how much I’m hurting over her? If this is still going on in a few months from now, maybe I’ll have to see Helen, though I don’t want to. We already spent a fortune on the freeloaders and we’re still doing so, so I don’t want to spend a fortune, even if it’s a much smaller one, on Teddy Bear.

I turned to Tom earlier and said, “You said this would happen, my falling in love with a woman. Well, please, please tell me it’ll never happen again!!! Loving you is enough. I don’t need to ever go through this shit again!”

Especially since I know nothing would ever come of it. She’d either play with my head or circumstances would prevent us from ever getting together.

Again, I have no regrets about meeting and marrying Tom, but why was it so important that I be fated to be a man’s woman, never to have the woman of my dreams? I mean, Kacey and Anne Marie came close, though Kacey was much closer. But if I compare Kacey to Teddy Bear, there’s no comparison. Kacey was an all-out settlement compared to her.

I’d have done things differently if I’d known Teddy Bear was going to blow me off. I’d either have not bothered to write, or I’d have written a totally different letter, in case that was it. I’d just be brief and to the point, telling her I was fine, I hoped she was too, and that I had some pet mice for her if she was interested.

Or maybe I’d tell her why I was there and let her know that the only reason we met was that I was Jewish and I complained on the wrong person with the wrong connections, as I said in the letter I’m sending to Mary. Then, while I could never know why she dumped me, she could at least know why I was really there.

Later…

The sun’s about halfway up now. Not a cloud in the sky out there. It feels like it hasn’t rained in ages. It’s been months, and June is the driest month in Arizona. It’s been an unusually dry winter, though. I wonder if the monsoons will be as wimpy as they were last summer, or as fierce as they were the summer before that. That would’ve been the summer of 2000, our first summer here.

I think I’ll look into getting a coffee bean grinder. Fresh-ground coffee is supposed to taste much better.

Tom said he might streak his hair after he bleaches it, then shave it off. He changed his mind, though, saying he has too many ugly moles to shave his hair. This was nice to hear cuz bald is ugly if you ask me. I hate that bald look.

I had Tom take off my shower brush and put my old shower massager back on. There’s just not enough water pressure out here to make the brush spin fast enough. In order to put enough pressure on the brush with my hand to scrub myself better, I’d have to stop the brush’s rotation. I also missed the small sharp, steady stream my old one puts out, leaving me room to step back out of the water in order to lather my hair. The other one sprayed too wide and I didn’t have any room to lather up in.

Tom and I were talking about different things, things we both agreed on, believe it or not. Here’s a classic example of how God lets some people get away with murder. Literally. From 1968-1970, a serial killer was on the loose in the southwest. He was known as the zodiac killer. Well, serial killers can’t stop, but this one did. He wrote tons of letters to the press and police, too. We think that the reason a serial killer suddenly “stops” is cuz he dies or is incarcerated for something else. He could’ve gotten caught, tried and convicted of arson or robbery or something.

We also agree that the end of the world, which probably won’t be in our time, won’t be caused by natural disasters or diseases. It’ll be either war or technology that’ll kill all the people. Right now we have bombs that can only kill thousands. Well, as soon as we get bombs that can kill millions, the world will be doomed if everybody doesn’t go bombing and shooting everybody up at once. People are crazy like that. There are tons of people who’d gladly kill themselves and take as much of the world along with them as possible.

Monday, June 24, 2002

Tom left a memo saying he’d be home by 10:00 PM, but now it’s coming up on 1:00. It seems I spend more time waiting for this man to come home than anything else. I don’t see much of him lately. He’s either at work or asleep. He was going to stop at his mother’s, then head on to work from there.

No, I don’t think he’s having an affair, not that I’d care as long as they used protection. You know Tom, though - nothing turns him on and everything turns him off. He’s just not big on sex any more than some of us are big on spicy foods, so no, I don’t think he’s getting it on with anyone.

The reason I wish he’d hurry up and get home is so he can go to sleep. That way, since I’ve been up since 9:30 (I missed my new show), we could go get Joy when the store first opens, and he could be well-rested.

Later…

Tom came in right as I was finishing my last sentence. He went to bed after telling me a funny story about Dave, and we’re still going to get Joy together tomorrow. We’ll leave at 7:45, stop at Circle K for a snack and some coffee, then get to the store when they open at 9:00.

Anyway, Dave received an email from a relative in New York and a picture of his sister Tammy. Dave was like, “You mean my cousin Tammy?” But as it would turn out, his father was whoring around on the side and so he’s got 4 siblings he never knew about.

I guess they thought it was me playing a joke on them at first cuz the sister supposedly sounds just like me. They’ve talked on the phone and sent an email back and forth.

Then Tom had to go and piss me off after I said I’d sic my sister Tammy’s local pigs on her if she called ma’s to get to me. He didn’t actually piss me off, but his attitude really irks me. He was like, “Why would you want to start trouble? You gotta disassociate yourself from people.”

But sometimes people won’t let us disassociate ourselves from them, and he of all people should know this. Not even moving can disassociate us from our enemies at times! I tried yet again to tell him that sometimes you just gotta fight back. We’re in the mess we’re in today because we didn’t. Instead, he just wants to bury his head in the sand, defend the perpetrators right after agreeing that what happened to me wasn’t fair, not fight back, and basically just kid himself about the whole thing. I’ll bet he did the same thing with his family as he did with Paula and made me out to be the villain.

What I wonder about Tom is when is it ever appropriate to fight back? We got taken by contractors for thousands and he let it go, I got thrown in jail and he’s gonna let that go, too. I know he is. He’s not gonna seek future revenge on anyone responsible for what happened to me. He just says that to try and make me feel better, then he says he won’t tell me what he has in mind cuz the less I know, the better off we’ll be. He isn’t gonna do shit to them. He simply isn’t the type. One of us could be paralyzed in a car accident that wasn’t our fault and he still wouldn’t fight back. Probably not even if I were killed. Wouldn’t do him any good anyway. God would only protect my murderer.

On the other hand, what good would it do me to call Tammy’s local pigs? It’s New England, remember? They’ll just tell me what they did when I tried that on Larry out of spite; that they’re so far away, so I shouldn’t worry. Then they might tell me they’ll call them just to get me off their backs, but I know they won’t. That’s just not Arizona where you can call up a pig, tell them so-and-so gave you a dirty look, and watch them go flying after them like a bat out of a hell.

It’s a family thing, I guess, as far as others fucking them over. They hope it doesn’t happen, but when it does they just live with it.

I can sort of understand, though. Meaning that if the freeloaders suddenly decided to call and threaten me, I wouldn’t “fight back.” I wouldn’t bother telling Scot and I certainly wouldn’t run to the pigs about it. What good would it do me and who would believe me anyway? I’m white.

We put the grille back up in the skylight to avoid some of the direct sun/heat.

Tuesday, June 25, 2002

So it took 38 days to get Joy, and she is beautiful! Very realistic looking. More so than Bailey and Jade. Especially the hands. I’ve never ever seen such realistic and detailed-looking hands! With the exception of her eyes, which are kind of squinted and half-shut cuz of her huge smile, she’s better than Bailey and Jade. They fibbed when they said she was 26”, though. She’s more like 24½. I didn’t need to get her a stand. She’s using a stand I had.

Right now she’s on the TV, cuz of her pose. I didn’t realize she was looking downward as well as to the side, so in order to see her face better, it’s best that she be up a little higher. I’ll eventually put her on a shelf by the bed. Then she can look down at me while I read. Or maybe I’ll put her in the office.

Amazingly, I put together an outfit for her in under 20 minutes. I took some old material consisting of large pink and blue splotches, wrapped the material under her arms and around in back, then pinned it. The only sewing I did was the hem. Then I rolled some material and put it across her upper arms where her arms move and you can see down to the armature, wrapping it around the backs of her arms and pinning it. Not bad at all for a fast, sloppy put-together. The colors go great with her coloring and she looks great in an off-the-shoulder outfit. Especially since her chin nearly rests on her shoulder.

She has a different mouth mold. As I read, you can do the mouth differently after you’ve cut out the space for the mouth. In the pictures I saw of her, she had both upper and lower teeth showing, but my Joy only has upper teeth showing. It looks great either way.

I also got shoes and socks for Jade. White, closed-toed sandals and white socks with pink trim. If it weren’t for Jamie I’d have gotten shoes too small. I was gonna get 95 mm shoes, but she really needed 105 mm shoes. They’re a little big on her, but it’s easier to get the shoes on over the socks this way and it makes her feet look bigger and more proportioned. I always thought her feet were too small for her body. Hers and Bailey’s are the same size, yet Bailey is 8” shorter.

The classes are going to cost more than we thought they would, and Tom won’t be able to sit in and watch. Jamie said that’s mainly cuz there’s no room. After adding up the cost of the doll (not a cheap piece of shit) and all the other stuff, like the supplies, it’ll run us around $250, and according to her, I may need to do 3 or 4 dolls with them before I really get the hang of it. She said it takes hours just to clean the greenware. They have about 10 classes, each one 2.5 hours long, and it takes a couple of classes just to clean the greenware. I was surprised to learn this.

She said they recommend starting with Sugar Britches, a sleeping baby, but I don’t know. I need to learn to cut/set eyes.

She also told me that if I wanted to avoid the expense of a kiln, they charge $5 for soft firing and $10 for a long firing. Kilns aren’t as easy to use as a regular oven either. You don’t just stick the stuff in it. It has to be set on special props. That’s this stuff that looks like batting, only it can withstand extreme temperatures.

I’ll have to call Dolls, Bears & Surprises and compare prices. Maybe they start with cheapies like those $40 Seymour Mann dolls. JBS’s classes are only $8.50. It’s the doll and supplies that are costly, but it’s still worth it to me. At least I’m pretty sure it is, though it still seems rather overwhelming to me. It seems there’s so much to learn, but if I can enjoy this and make a little money at it, it’ll be worth the struggle. It’s too bad Tom can’t sit in. I had hoped he could so he could help me with anything I may forget or not understand. But I’m a quick learner with a great memory, so I’ll get by.

Not that I’m having any thoughts about reuniting with Andy, but I wonder - am I a horrible person for abandoning him like I did despite our growing differences? I suppose most people would say that I am and that I wasn’t a true friend any more than Jenny C was when she decided she could be my friend through the thick, but not the thin.

Another thing I wonder is whether or not Teddy Bear’s ignoring me is my punishment for dumping Andy. I don’t know, somehow I think it would’ve happened anyway under that not-meant-to-be rule.

Tom says he doesn’t think I’m a horrible person for doing what I did, and that I simply moved on like most people do.

Yes, I agree with him. When you think about it, how many people are in our lives for 10 or more years? Everybody moves on at some point and no one’s in our lives forever. At least, 99% of the people we meet aren’t. The only one that’ll be in my life forever is Tom. I’m sure I won’t always know Paula or Mary. I’m sure we’ll move on sooner or later.

Later…

I’ve been sleeping really weird lately. Due to the excitement of getting the doll, I slept for 8 hours but had been up 20 hours, so I was tired. Too tired to write, too tired to clean, too tired to work out. I was even too tired to shower, so I crashed for another 8 hours and ended up with 16 hours of sleep in an 18-hour period. This was after my schedule had shifted 14 hours in just 4 days.

Almost 2 hours after we got back with Joy, not that God would have him miss me, the cheeks popped in. Tom had just gone to bed and was too beat himself to hear him knock, which was good. Scot was in and out in a flash.

Good. That gets him out of my hair at home for a month or two. Still, the more I’m home and up when he comes by, the better. Answering the door as quickly as I can is a good thing, too. I wouldn’t want him getting paranoid and getting the wrong idea. I’ve suffered enough on account of others’ paranoia and misunderstanding of me. He’d suffer too, and I’d make sure of it, but I don’t need the hassle. I’ve had enough shit to deal with in my life. I still don’t see why I need to see him 3 times a month over a letter, but there are worse things in life, I suppose.

I’m still pretty sure Teddy Bear decided long before she got my letter that she was going to blow me off. Just the fact that she didn’t call by Christmas made me wonder about that, then when she didn’t call right before the letter, that made me wonder even more. No matter how professional I was, if I really liked someone that much, I’d have found an excuse to call her by Christmas, and if I switched jails, I’d want to let her know just in case the letter didn’t make it to me.

She never could’ve felt an eighth of what I felt for her. Even so, I wish to hell she’d return to Estrella before Mary leaves! I’m so, so curious to hear what she might have to say to Mary as far as why she did what she did, not that we could trust that she’s telling the truth. I could never trust her now. Not with the way she’s stood me up. I’d have to be a real fool to associate with her if she did one day call me.

But I am a fool. And I’m sure I’d jump right to any opportunity to see her, get to know her, get it on with her, etc.

Thursday, June 27, 2002

Two mice died, so now I’m down to just 3.

I was thinking about it, and you know, I really wish the guinea pig had lived after all. Now that I’ve got all the rats living together in the new cage, the old one would be ideal for a GP. I miss the sounds they make. The cage wouldn’t need shelves or even a roof, as long as I elevate the base by putting it on its stand. I’m sure I could get Tom to go for getting another one. Just one, though. Preferably a male, so we’ll know it can’t be pregnant.

I called DBS (Dolls, Bears & Surprises) yesterday, and so far, it looks like we may go with them. They’re closer and cheaper than JBS. Like JBS, they have the same amount of classes per doll - 10 classes, usually completed in 5 weeks. However, their classes are a buck cheaper at $7.50, and it’ll take about $150 to get started, $100 less than JBS. If I need to take a second set of classes and assemble another doll, it won’t cost me as much cuz I’ll already have the supplies. All I’ll need is to pick out another doll, and as I was told, I can choose any doll in the store I want. He says he has something like 480 dolls to choose from.

Tom and I discussed him taking classes too, since they’re cheaper here, and we’ll make totally different dolls so we can learn more at once.

Friday, June 28, 2002

Today’s Tom’s 45th birthday. I wish he were closer to my age since women are supposed to live longer than men. Maybe the years I smoked will make up for that, but I don’t know. He doesn’t work out. I do. I also eat healthier stuff.

By today the PO will have thrown Carmencita on a shelf and considered her an attempted delivery. That is if they haven’t given her to someone else.

Why can’t I order a doll and get it?!

Saturday, June 29, 2002

A group of about 4 of Tom’s employees got him some soda, a colorful birthday balloon, a card, and a credit card for up to $40 of food at the Olive Garden restaurant. That’s a lot of pasta!

He didn’t stop at the PO on his way to work tonight (last night), but that’s okay. I know my doll isn’t there, even though it is there. It’s just gonna have to sit there till we email PG on July 10th.

They have us rather confused right now. They were supposed to deduct 25% off of Carmencita and Murganah when I ordered them and bought a 1-year membership, but then they sent me certificates for 25% off of two dolls.

I am so done with this doll company after I fight for the 3 we ordered on our anniversary! So done with them! They may be cheap, but no thanks. Not if the fun’s gonna be spoiled with shit like this and with having to trace and fight for dolls. I’ll learn to make my own.

Got a makeshift letter from Mary yesterday. She was out of paper and envelopes. I decided to send her a sheet or two of blank paper whenever I write. I know how outrageous paper is in there - $1.50 for 50 sheets. Out in the real world, you can get so much paper for so little, so I don’t mind doing this at all.

I’m surprised she ran out of paper. She always has a ton of money in her account, and they don’t have a limit on how much paper per week you can order like they do with envelopes.

She also said something I didn’t quite get. Something about Justin’s trying to get into a funny farm, which means they’ll take her to prison in Florida.

But I thought she’d have to go to prison no matter where he ended up.

Anyway, she says she’s glad something will finally be happening and that she should know on July 22nd.

And I wish she’d stay there! Just long enough to give Teddy Bear my letter. God won’t have it, though, I know it. He’d never have her return while Mary was there. He wants us as done with each other as we have been since April 27th, 2001. Then why’d you have me fall in love with her, God??? Why’d I have to come to love her in the first place? To spice up my time there?

The sun, which is just now popping up from behind the mountain way off in the distance, looks so cool with clouds that make it seem red. It’s like this bright red fiery ball. Due to the clouds we’ve been having, I wonder if the monsoons aren’t making their way in. It’s a bit early, though most of June was typical - hot and dry without a cloud in the sky. I can tell just by the lack of static in my hair that there’s a higher level of humidity than normal.

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piratefishmama · 2 years ago

Note

For dialogue prompts #6 with Steddie pls!!!!

Writing Prompts | No longer accepting new prompts

06. “I don’t know if I want to know the answer, but what are you doing?”

“I don’t know if I want to know the answer, but what are you doing?” Steve startled upright at the voice behind him, turning, his hands and the thing within them flying behind his back out of sight, he found himself looking a little downward to the judgmental gaze of two of the three members of Corroded Coffin. The one in the middle, Gareth, being the one who’d spoken.

How did he, the King of Hawkins High know of Corroded Coffin pray tell? Not important. Definitely wasn’t the painful crush he had on their magnanimous ring leader that’d had him lingering incognito at a gig at The Hideout every now and then despite it definitely not being his scene. Definitely wasn’t that. It wasn’t like he had clothes hidden in the guest room’s loft space so he could attend those gigs and blend in for that exact reason, definitely wasn’t THAT.

“Uhhh... nothing.” Nothing. Gareth raised a single brow. Nothing. “Seriously, man, nothing. What’s it to you anyway?”

“That’s Eddie’s locker, dude. He’s our friend. The hell are you doing at it? Were you trying to break in or something?”

“No” well that was believable. Fuck, why didn’t he get one of the little buttheads to do this. It’d have been easier for them! Nobody knew who they were, would have probably been mistaken for random freshmen. His face was known. He was known in Hawkins High, and he really hadn’t thought that anyone would still be there that late in the evening.

Stupid nerd clubs running late.

“Alright, I changed my mind, I absolutely do know that I wanna know the answer. What the hell are you doing to Eddie’s locker, and don’t say nothing cause I saw you fuckin with the lock, so what is it, Harrington? If this is some kind of practical joke, then cut it the fuck out, he’s never done shit to you, so leave him the fuck alone.” Maybe Eddie had verbally abused them from lunch tables once or twice, but he’d never messed with lockers or hurt any of them.

The basketball team definitely hadn’t shared his hesitance to declare war either, always doing shit unprovoked.

“I’m not—shit, I’m not doing anything bad, Jesus, could you just… I dunno… trust me? and not say anything to Eddie maybe, that you saw me here?” God he was so not sneaky, he was the worst possible ninja ever, the duo only looked more suspicious. “Ugh, look, it’s none of your actual business why I’m here, just… just move on, and uh… forget you saw me. please. I’ll buy you lunch for the next month.”

“Now that’s just extra suspicious” the other one piped up, Jeff the backup guitarist “you think our loyalty to our friend can be bought, Harrington? Cause it can’t, we can afford our own lunches.” Their parents paid for them basically. “So spill it, what do you have in your hands?”

“I have nothing in my hands, look. Im gonna go, I’m just gonna go, so lets just forget you saw me.”

“Or we could tell Eddie we saw you lurking at his locker so he c—”

“No!” Steve grabbed Gareth as the boy tried to start for the door, “No, nope, don’t do that. Why would you do that?”

“Cause you’re being really fucking suspicious and get off the threads, man.” Gareth shoved Steve’s hand away from his jacket “he has a right to know if he’s about to get punked. Especially if he hasn’t done anything to earn it.” Eddie could be pretty fuckin annoying at times sure, especially toward the basketball team, but he’d never done anything to Steve.

“He’s not about to get punked, Jesus. That’s not—I wasn’t going to—that’s not it. Okay? It’s not. It’s just… I just—” Gareth’s eyes dipped down just in time to spot a box in Steve’s other hand, peeking out from behind his back, wrapped in red with black ribbon… his eyes narrowed “I just—” Steve was obviously grasping at straws, clearly about two seconds from panic if his tone was anything to go by, the choppy speech, the broken sentences.

Gift wrapped box. Sneakily snuck into Eddie’s locker. The date. The day it’d be tomorrow. Holy shit.

Jeff seemed to catch that lightbulb moment at the exact same moment as Gareth did because they both burst out with “It’s YOU!!” At the same time, clearly scaring the shit out of Steve who jumped back in surprise, back hitting the metal of the lockers.

Gareth continued though “you’re the one that leaves him presents every holiday!! That’s you!” Steve’s eyes widened, clearly just about to deny any involvement when Gareth continued with “oh my god, that’s YOU?! Dude. Oh my god. Dude. Eddie’s gonna flip—”

“You can’t tell him, man” Jeff seemed to catch on quicker though, punching Gareth in the arm as if he’d done something wrong. “We can’t, that’s just… not right, dude.”

“Eddie’s not an asshole, Jeff, c’mon, he deserves to kno—"

“Nope. It’s not cool, man. Even if Eddie’s not an asshole, if Steve wants to tell him, then Steve can tell him, but until then? No. It’s not fair to take that choice from him. How would you feel if you were in his place?” Gareth seemed to consider that for a moment before his whole body deflated.

“Ugh, fine. You’re right, why are you right? Who said you could be the grown up, man, Jesus.” Gareth then turned back to the deer in headlights gaze of Steve Harrington “Alright, man. We won’t tell Eddie. He changed his combo to nine nine nine if you didn’t already know, but I swear if that’s not some real tasty chocolate or some other nice thing that’ll make him feel all gooey tomorrow, we tell Eddie exactly who left it there, and he can corner you himself, got it?”

“…Got it. You uh… you won’t tell anyone else… right?”

“Nah” Jeff answered for him “We don’t tell on our own people, man. Your secrets safe.”

“Thanks. M’not… like… fully, y’know… I’m just—It doesn’t matter, will you both just… I dunno, go? Not like… not like I’m not thrilled you’re being cool but—” he was nervous enough, he didn’t need an audience watching him do something he’d always managed to be sneaky as all hell with before. Someone had to spot him eventually.

“Heh, sure thing, man. But remember, if that’s not something that makes Eddie smile tomorrow, all niceties are off. Got it?” Steve nodded quick to Jeffs warning, which seemed to be enough, because the boy moved to push Gareth toward the doors, away from the scene of Steve’s little holiday crimes, leaving him there to finish up and disappear into the night back to his castle.

Both hopeful, and thankfully thrilled when they attended school the next day, to find Eddie, excitedly bouncing on his heels by his locker with a box of fancy homemade chocolates, a beautiful little dice bag in his hands, and Steve Harrington, barely visible in the throng of teens bustling through the hallways, trying very hard to remain inconspicuous as he watched the reaction from a distance, hope that Eddie liked his gift in his gaze so blatantly obvious even from a distance that they couldn't believe nobody had figured him out yet.

Someday. They figured. Given how determined Steve was to remember every single holiday... someday. They'd find each other properly someday. But until that day...

Eddie had a really cool new dicebag to show off to them.

#Steddie #piratewrites #SO REMEMBER THAT ONE PROMPT I HAD WHERE STEVE LEFT EDDIE PRESENTS EVERY HOLIDAY CAUSE HE HAD A CRUSH FIRST?#yeah i used that #whee the CC guys knewww lmao

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thefanficmonster · 3 years ago

Text

Things Unsaid

Sidney Prescott x Reader (Female) [Scream 2022]

Warnings: SPOILERS for the fifth Scream movie (2022), Injury, Blood, Death (mentioned), Swearing

Genre: Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: What if instead of Judy, Ghostface stabs a deputy that arrives there before her. Deputy L/N.

Requested by @daydreamsofbee Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request and I’m sorry it took me so long to write your fic - I was stalling to watch the movie because I had Dewey’s death spoiled for me 😭 - but here it finally is and I hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

“Hey Dewey! What can I do for you?“ This has become a regular thing between the long time friends.

Ever since Dewey’s retirement, Y/N has been his main source of police work news. Cases they’re working on, suspects they’re questioning, criminals that have been caught, etc. Dewey has been of great help to investigations as well, no that Y/N’s ever disclosed him as her secret helper but their dynamic works well.

“Hey there, Deputy. I need you to keep an eye on this new Nancy Drew in town. Billy Loomis’ daughter, Samantha Carpenter and her boyfriend....“

“Richie Kirsch.“ She finishes his sentence for him, “How do you know about them anyway?“

“They stopped by my place earlier. Ghostface strikes again and you don’t tell me? That’s real nice of you, Y/N.“ He mutters bitterly, earning himself an eye-roll from the woman.

“I didn’t want to freak you out! You’ve dealt with this shit enough already.“ She argues, pinching the bridge of her nose.

That’s really the truth, she didn’t want this reaching Dewey or Sidney or Gale. Of course, she couldn’t prevent the news reporter from catching wind of it but Dewey was a more difficult task.

“You’ve been dealing with it for just as long as I have!“ That’s true too.

Y/N has been on the target list since the days of Billy Loomis and Stu Macher and who’s to say she’s been taken off it now. She can never seem to catch a break: from Stu using her as bait by kindling a close friendship with her, to Mickey who she even dated at one point to Roman who she became friends with and even slept with a couple of times. She’s never been far from the killer, always mere minutes from receiving a blade through the back if the killer wanted that. She thanks her lucky stars for making it this far with a pulse.

“As a retired Sherriff, you’re allowed to catch a break from the chaos, Dewey. On the other hand, it’s my duty to help stop this asshole.“ She counters his point with her own before battling the pit in her stomach to finally bring herself to ask the question that’s looming in the cop car with her ever since she exchanged the first line of conversation with him. “Did you tell Sidney?“

“Yes.“ The answer causes her to squeeze her eyes shut. This is the one thing she was praying wouldn’t happen and yet.... “But don’t worry, she’s not coming back here....ever. She’s safe.“

Hearing that evokes a bittersweet feeling in the Deputy. On one hand she’s happy to hear that her friend is safe and won’t be getting sucked into the chaos anytime soon or, as Dewey said, ever. But on the other....that means she’ll never see Sidney again and that seriously stings. Makes her regret all the times she could’ve come clean about her feelings but ended up being too much of a coward instead.

“ Ok, that’s great....“ She’s found herself unable to find a proper reply but, just her luck, the police radio goes off, Sherriff Hicks asking for backup to her house immediately. “Gotta go, Dewey!” She says quickly, hanging up the call and stepping on the gas.

Checking the GPS, she sees that she’s only mere five minutes away from the location but with the way she’s speeding, she’ll make it there in three, probably the first to make it there entirely. Regardless, with the panic in Judy’s voice, Y/N can’t step on that gas enough. She can only guess Wes is the one in danger and for that this car cannot go fast enough. Y/N’s hand tightly grip the steering wheel, making intents in the leather.

If that fucker lays a finger on Wes....

The car comes to a halting stop by the curb in front of the Hicks home. Gun drawn, Deputy L/N jumps out of the car, carefully but quickly approaching the house.

Unfortunately, not carefully enough.

A blade has breached her skin and flesh right below the hem of her bulletproof vest before she’s even been able to register the masked figure standing in front of her.

“Y/N L/N.“ The grumbled voice says with an infuriating snark to the tone, “Must say, I’m a big fan.“

With that the knife is retracted from Y/N’s abdomen just for it to be stabbed into her three more times.

Y/N’s vision goes black, all her muscles screaming in unison at the pain as her body falls limp into the pool of blood forming beneath her on the pavement.

* * * * *

"Sidney." The name falls from Gale's lips in a mix of surprise and content, both caused by the sight of the woman standing in front of her in the hospital lobby.

She gets up from her seat, giving the newcomer a hug.

"I came as soon as I heard. I'm so sorry." Sidney replies, the hurt evident in her voice as she wraps her arms around Gale who can no longer hold back her sobs.

One would say she should have gotten used to seeing people drop like flies but that could not be more false. Sidney knows that best.

"You shouldn't be here." The older woman says as the two pull away, looking into each other's eyes, seeing their hurt looking right back at them.

"You shouldn't either." Sidney replies, earning her a small sigh from Gale.

"I know, and I don't plan on sticking around. God knows I'd be on the first flight home after the...funeral, but I can't leave while Y/N's still in the state she's in." She explains, the pain in her chest unwavering.

However, the name she dropped seems to knock Sidney out of balance for a moment as she comprehends everything, "Wait, Y/N as in Y/N L/N?"

"Deputy L/N herself indeed." Gale nods, confirming Sidney's worries.

All this time she's been away from Y/N she's never stopped wondering how she's been holding up, what she has been up to. And yet, not a single one of those times was she able to pick up the phone and give her used-to-be best friend a call. Not even once and especially not after she married Mark. When her daughters were born she was the first person she wanted to call after leaving the hospital and tell her the good news. She was the first person she wanted to call after her divorce a few months ago, seek comfort. But alas she didn't.

Why? Now that she cannot answer. Or rather, she's afraid to.

"What happened to her?" The tightness in her chest increases in the two seconds it takes Gale to reply to her question.

"Ghostface got a bit too stab-friendly, was aiming to turn her insides into outsides but luckily Sherriff Hicks arrived at the scene on time. She's in one piece again but high on painkillers constantly, asleep 24/7. I don't know what to say...but she isn't doing well, that's all I know."

Sidney's heart sinks.

"C-Can I see her?" She stutters out, her words breaking up as they stumble out of her sore, dry throat.

"Room 103 in the ICU." And Sid is off, " Oh, and tell Louisa to get her ass here immediately so I can drive her to school or I'll go get her myself!" Gale shouts after her, her words not exactly reaching her through the fog in her brain which now is working solely on navigating her to Y/N's room.

The scavenger hunt ends once she finds herself in front of a door with the number 103 on it. It's safe to say she barges in so quickly she almost takes the door off its hinges. And most definitely startles the shit out of the girl sitting in the chair by the hospital bed.

Panic is evident in her eyes until a spark of recognition flashes in them. She gets up from her seat and motions for Sidney to follow her back out into the hallway.

"You're Sidney Prescott." She declares in a hushed tone the woman was expecting to be accusatory but wasn't. It was more amazed than anything.

"Y-Yes." Sid stutters as she tries reading the girl's expression but failing to do so because of how numb and emotionless her features are. She sees a lot of herself in her, a lot of the reflection she saw in the mirror after her mom died.

"Mom has told me a lot about you. All good things, don't worry." She gives a faint smile, "Oh, sorry, I'm Louisa, by the way, her daughter."

"Nice to meet you, I'm sorry it's under these circumstances though." The older woman says, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder. "And I'm sorry you have to go through this. You're just a kid....you don't deserve any of these."

Louisa shakes her head, "Neither did my mom. She was actually a year younger than I am now when she first had to deal with murderous freaks. You didn't deserve it either. You were both just kids....but it seems like it's all coming back around full circle."

"Hey." Sidney takes hold of the girl's other shoulder as well, "We'll break this fucking pattern, ok? Once and for all."

The teenager nods before a sob wracks her body, "I just want mom to wake up. I want her to come home, hug me and Michael and tell us that it'll all be alright."

Sid pulls her in for a hug which she gladly accepts, "Is Michael your brother?" She feels the girl nod against her shoulder, "How old is he?"

"Seven." She weakly replies.

"Does he know?" The girl shakes her head, "Good." She pulls away from the hug to look Louisa in the eyes, "He'll never have to know. You'll neve have to explain why mom won't be coming home cause she'll come home, ok? She'll wake up and she'll be back to being the bossy pushover she can sometimes be. She's a walking, talking boulder." This gets a laugh out of the crying girl, "And I see you've inherited that from her. So, wipe those tears away and go give Michael a big hug, don't let him miss Y/N. Missing a mother is the most painful feeling ever."

Louisa nods again, following Sidney's instructions as she straightens he posture and dries her cheeks, "Thank you." She whispers with a faint smile that somehow manages to grace her features.

She's got the same smile as Y/N, Sidney thinks to herself.

Just then, a voice booms through the hallway, "Louisa!"

It's Gale.

"Right.." Unlike the confused Sidney, Louisa knows exactly what's going on, "I have to get to school."

With that the two exchange goodbyes and depart, leaving Sidney to have to face the task of walking back into that hospital room again.

After a brief sigh and a sharp inhale she makes her way inside. But things are different this time.

For example, Y/N's eyes are open.

"Thought I recognized that voice...." The Deputy chuckles, "Wait, it's really you, right? I don't know what to believe anymore...these pills are killing my perception."

Sidney's emotional disbalance counters Y/N's casual and calm tone. She squats down by the bed, taking the patient's hand in hers, "Oh God, Y/N, it's me. From head to toe, the Angel of Death herself."

The other woman giggles, "Don't call yourself that. And what brings you here, anyway? Thought you'd never step foot here again."

That's when it hits Sidney - She doesn't know.

She contemplates telling her, really not looking forward to being the one to break the awful news to her but postponing the inevitable is also not at all gonna help the situation. It's only gonna hurt more and she's well aware of that.

So she takes the painful alternative...

"I came as soon as I heard....Dewey was killed.....I'm so sorry, Y/N. I'm so fucking sorry...." She stumbles over her words before trailing off, tears prickling her eyes so she chooses to squeeze them shut.

A tear slips out of Y/N's.

"Oh, God, why did he have to involve himself?! I knew it was a bad idea! Why wasn't I there to protect him?! What kind of fucking friend am I?! Why him?! Why am I alive and he's not?!" The woman sobs, for the first time since she woke up wishing that she really was dead.

"Shh, shh..." With tears of her own staining her shirt, Sidney hugs the guilt-ridden, dread-filled woman, "He'd hate for you to be keeping him company right now. He'd much rather have you here to avenge him. Please, Y/N, for me, for Gale and for Dewey but most importantly for your kids, please, don't crumble. Don't lose yourself, cause the you I know will pick herself up and kick ass like nothing ever happened."

But many things have happened and all of them have slowly been piling up. Starting that night at Stu's house up until this very point. She's cheated death too many times, almost always at the hands of the people she trusted so much. Stu betrayed her, she didn't care. The man she was starting to fall in love with ended up being a serial killer, an utter psychopath. It broke her, but no one noticed. Getting betrayed by Roman felt like a hit a spot where pain receptors no longer work. Like a punch to a brick wall. She had grown numb. Numb to pain and sadness only.

The last two times she's felt great pain like this is when she lost Sidney and the other when she lost her fiancée to a drunk driver a year ago.

It's safe to say this woman hasn't cried nearly as enough as she's wanted and needed to throughout the years.

"I will. I promise I will." She sniffles, "But for now I just want to let it all out."

"I'll be here while you do so." Sidney squeezes her hand tighter, a seal to the promise that she won't be leaving her side anytime soon.

* * * * *

"Mama loves you, Mikey. See you soon, baby. Bye." Sidney catches the last part of Y/N's phone call from outside her room door.

It's nice to see her being able to stay conscious for longer periods of time. She's still in the ICU though, so nothing is to be said for certain about the future. Sidney and Y/N both are just happy for the current moments they have.

"You're a wonderful mother, Y/N. I always knew you would be." She tells the Deputy as she waltzes her way in.

She chuckles in response, "Remember that I swore up and down I'd never have kids? Look at me now. Thought I'd stay a party girl forever."

"I think you got it all out of your system in high school and college." Sidney laughs as she settles in the chair by Y/N's bed. "Remember our first high school party?"

The other woman gasps, "How could I not?! I was ready to murder those two girls, they were being so annoying. That was my first official fight."

"And you would've gotten your ass kicked if I didn't get us out of there." Sid comments, making Y/N laugh.

"Fair enough....I felt so bad for cutting our night short. But at least we got to rewatch Breakfast at Tiffany's again at your place."

The brunette shrugs, "I didn't mind at all. I always would've preferred a quite night in with you than going out to party."

A moment of silence falls over the two, the air thickening with memories they've both been grasping onto as to not let them be shadowed by all the bad that laced their youth.

"How's Kincaid?" Y/N is the one to put an end to the reminiscing quiet.

"You don't care." Sidney replies but through a small laugh which is surprising to say the least.

She's not wrong, though - Y/N really doesn't care. She didn't really care or like Billy, or Derek...you see the pattern here?

"Ok, how are the kids then?" She retorts with a playful eye roll.

This question she does get an answer to, "They're doing well. I just hope this co-parenting thing and the divorce won't affect them badly. Mark and I are doing out best to not let them sense a difference but I'm still worried."

"Communicate it properly to them, make sure they understand that it's not their fault. Make sure to assure and reassure them every chance you get that you love them and will never stop loving them, both you and Kincaid. I know how hard it must be to explain that to kids with a single digit age, but maybe that'll give you an advantage."

"What about you and...whoever the lucky man is?" The woman nudges her friend's leg.

Y/N sighs, "He isn't lucky at all. I just hope he runs into Dewey up in heaven so they can keep each other company."

Sidney squeezes Y/N's hand in a comforting gesture, choosing not to say anything, knowing the Y/H/C will understand her regardless.

"You know, sometimes I wonder how different things would've been if I wasn't a coward. How many lives could be saved. I mean, Bronson would probably still be alive right now if he never met me, if we didn't start dating etc. He wouldn't have even been in Woodsboro. But then again I wouldn't have Michael and Louisa in my life so it's a bittersweet reflection." Y/N finally finds it in her to sat what's been bothering you for what feels like forever now. It's not far off the mark though - it's been a decade of her holding back everything, not to mention that it started even way before that.

"You're not a coward, Y/N. You've never been. You may see yourself that way but I hope you know nobody agrees with you. Not a single soul. I owe you my life. I've indebted it to you several times." Sidney runs her thumb over her friend's bruised knuckles, a pit forming in her stomach at the thought of all the lost time between them. How things would have been different if she wasn't a coward.

"Just because I'm courageous in one department doesn't mean I am that way in all aspects of my life. I've never been able to go after what I want or who I want. I've never been able to stay true to myself or anyone really. I wish I told you all I wished would just come out of me unexpectedly. I wish I said something instead of waiting and hoping you'd read my mind." Y/N runs her hands through her hair, avoiding Sidney's gaze the whole time before her palms cover her face as a protective gesture that's become a habit when she can't run from or fix a certain awkward or uncomfortable situation.

"What are you saying, Y/N?" The brunette, while with a good guess on her hands, doesn't want to go out on a limb here.

"I'm saying that, since day one I've been constantly in love with you, Sid. Constantly. Never once did that change. I've always loved you, but I've been in love with you too this whole time. And I'm sorry you're hearing this under these circumstances and in this messed up period of your life, but I don't know if I'll ever make it out of this ICU so I better tell you, you know? Before the coward me kicks in and shuts me up." She sighs heavily, her hands still covering her eyes, "Feel free to walk out on me if you'd like, I'll fucking deserve it. Don't worry, I won't take it personally, just....don't say anything, ok?"

Sidney really sticks to that - she doesn't say anything. Not when she leans forward, not when she removes Y/N's hands off her face and most definitely not when her lips collide with hers.

There's a whirlwind of emotions within the the both of them at the moment, there always has been but it's now come to a boiling point, a culmination neither of them could've predicted - especially wouldn't have guessed it would happen in their forties. Never would've thought they'd wait so long to say it. Who's to say they ever would've said it at all. They're both a little cowardly in this very aspect, both having held onto something for so long it's become an aching part of them. Letting it go now out in the open feels practically unreal.

The kiss is brief, hesitant and too instant for Y/N to even process it properly before her eyes meet Sidney's again.

"I'm never walking out on you again, Y/N. I promise you. I'm never walking out on you again. I've made that mistake too many times in the past and I don't plan on repeating it." Sidney's hands replace the hold Y/N's had on her face, but her touch is more gentle, cupping her cheeks. It's not meant to protect her per se, it's more to pull her in, to reassure her of her safety in her arms. Promise her that she'll always be safe in her arms. "I-I've never been the best at...feelings? And that hasn't changed even now. But you've been patient with me thus far, God bless your heart, I'm asking you to wait on me just a little longer. I love you too much to lose you and I'm too in love with you to leap in a relationship without pulling my act together and risk hurting you in the process. Can you do that? Wait for me just a bit longer?"

A smile lights up Y/N's face like Sidney last remembers seeing back in the early days of college - before Mickey and Roman, before Derek and Kincaid. She remembers it all too well and is so glad to see it hasn't been snuffed out of Y/N completely throughout the years. They're both holding onto a small piece of themselves it seems they've only reserved for each other.

"I'll wait for you, Sid, I've spent my whole life waiting for a miracle and now....what's just a bit more time compared to a quarter decade? I can hold your hand throughout it all or remain at a six feet distance, whatever you want or need." Y/N nods eagerly, her forehead resting against Sidney's.

"Let's start with getting you out of the ICU first. And then you gotta promise me you won't be pulling dangerous stunts like this. Understood?"

"A Deputy's word, ma'am."

There's a lot still ahead of them they'll need to yet deal with but there's a lot of stuff they've left behind which they'll now have to uncover and dust off to be able to move forward. There's plenty they left unsaid and things they wish they did but never had the courage to. Plus there's ten years worth of catching up for them to do. These two never can seem to catch a break.

But for now, they aren't gonna busy their minds with that. Instead, they're perfectly content reconnecting that kiss from a few moments ago, but making it last longer this time.

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funny-dxxd-boy · 3 years ago

Text

My brains really active right now so i think i just wanna write out info for los animatronicos.

- story would mostly follow the animatronics and their end goal to enter the end of the year battle of the bands competition and hopefully win woohoo

- all of the animatronics are in their junior year of high school. (Literally the worst year of my life, everyone thought i was a freshman)

- the animatronics consist of Ann and Bonnie at first Ann plays drums and Bonnie.. you already know lol.

- They are in search of a singer. They can manage but niether of them are anything special when it comes to vocals, and they know it.

- Then comes in Golden who recently moved in with Freddy and his Mom, he gets asked by Ann to join. He enthusiastically joins cause plot.

- He uncurages Freddy to also join at least as a backup vocalist cause he knows he also sings. Fred wants to do it, but Freddy says no he "doesnt know how to sing anymore".

- Fred says "fuck you, you crybaby loser were doing it anyway" and takes over their body and flexes their vocal skills and joins the animatronics literally the next day lol.

- the animatronics officialy formed now they get to practicing.

Ann - Drums

Bonnie - Guitar

Freddy - Base + backup vocals

Golden - Vocals

- Their not super good but their also not super bad lol.

- Ann is good at drums cause she has played for the school orchestra since middle school.

- Bonnie is good on guitar but hes kinda stagnant in his learning, he also has only been playing for a year and is self taught.

- Freddy learnt base for fun to acompany his singing so its just a matter of picking it up again, even so hes trash at not getting nervous.

- Golden.. hes fine lol. He sings good.

- The toys consisting of preppy seniors and and a junior (Joy). They make fun of the animatronics, calling being assosiated with them in any way "social suicide".

- Ann thinking "what makes them so good? |:<" sneaks in to watch one of their practices and figure out "shit they actually are really good". Digging more into their background they find out theve won the past two end of the year competitions.

- Bonnie how ever recognizes Bon from some of Ann's orchestra concerts and gets the idea to blackmail him to become his guitar teacher to get better, after finding out he skips out on orchestra practice to play guitar with the toys.

- Bonnie being set to get better (:

- Ann is worried about Freddy not letting go of his nervousness, Golden reasuring her he'll help him get more out there and have him ready for the end of the year competition.

-time passes things happen

- Ann happy with the progress their making, notices they dont really know each other as people well, wants them to also become closer as friends not just as bandmates so she aranges more hang out.

- On another one of their little bonding hang outs. Bonnie and Freddy go out to the store to get snacks where they meet Springtrap.

- Springtrap being a naturaly chatty guy ask them about random things about their day and Bonnie tells him about their band. Springtrap thinks its cool and ask "whens your next gig?" Leaving both Bonnie and Freddy dumbfounded.

- Having never had a gig and much less a "next gig" Springtrap finds it funny but still tells them about a guy he knows thats always looking for indie bands to play at partys.

- Fred making Freddy take the offer on the spot gives Springtrap their number promising he'll give them a call if the guys interested.

- Telling the others Ann is exited. Golden also appears to be exited.

- Later Golden scolds Freddy for trusting someone random like that, Fred taking over reminding him "you told me to get more out there, this is me getting more out there" things a little tense between them after thanks to Fred.

- When they get their first gig, its at a house kinda like an undergriynd rave like place (idk how to describe like it its in my brain sorry)

- Its a nice first time live performance for them, Freddy lets go of his nerves . Ann gets to play loud and hard rather then what shes used to in school performances. Bonnie has gotten noticeably better at guitar. And Golden relizes he was wrong about questionig Freddy so soon.

- Staying a little for the party they come across the nightmares, who try to start something with Bonnie and as a result the rest of the animatronics.

- Helping introduce Fox, who shoos off the nightmares working as security for the party, later on escorting the animatronics out to make sure the nightmares dont come back to bother them.

Thats kinda it so far, just wanted to get how Freddy, Golden, Ann, Bonnie, and Fox meet writen down. And Springtrap was in there as treat lol.

I'll probanly write about individual relationships like how Ann and Bonnie know each other and how Freddy and Goldens half-brother family dynamic is set up. Along with more about the toys. Cause i really wanna develop them to be better people by the end of the story lol.

#fnafhs #fnafhs freddy #fnafhs fred #fnafhs ann #fnafhs bonnie #fnafhs golden #fnafhs fox #fnafhs bon #fnafhs mangle #fnafhs joy #fnafhs springtrap #fnafhs au

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forever-rogue · 4 years ago

Note

Hi love!! I know I'm sneaking it in under the wire, but congratulations again on your milestone! You deserve ALL the good things, honeybunch! For your prompt requests can I please get a fluffy something (maybe a lil unrequited-but-really-requited) friends to lovers with our hot daddy Marcus Moreno?? With the prompts:

“Stay. Please.” (prompt list 3) and 79. "I can't get you out of my head" (prompt list 1).

Feel free to get as creative or flexible as you want with this. Love you bb 💜🌿

I love you too bb! I am so in it for one (1) Marcus Moreno! Enjoy!

Marcus Moreno x Fem!Reader ; warnings: none

Pedro Character Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

Dating was hard. Dating was even harder when you’d been out of the game for years. Dating was hardest when you were a single, widowed father who doubled as a superhero.

Yeah, dating was hard for Marcus Moreno.

Even with all the support from you.

“Marcus,” you scoffed at him as you picked up around the kitchen, sighing at the small disaster that had occurred when he had tried to cook. He knew that tone of voice very well, and he took a step back and offered you a sheepish grin. You grabbed a dish towel and threw it at him as you gestured to the mess, “how? How does this even happen? All you did was make pasta and salad!”

“I don’t know!” he insisted meekly. It was true - the man was a walking, talking disaster when it came to anything related to cooking. But he tried, gods knew he tried so hard. He was trying to do good, to be better - his best - for Missy, and himself. And you. You just weren’t exactly privy to that fact just yet. He cleared his throat awkwardly before he got too caught up in his little daydream fantasies, “it just...happened. You don't have to clean it swee- it’s okay. It’s not your mess.”

“It’s alright Marcus,” you promised him as you threw all the trash in the can and set the dishes in the sink to rise, “besides you made dinner and dessert. It’s the least I can do.”

“I burned dessert…” he pouted slightly as you laughed, causing his heart to skip a beat at the magical sound. You watched as he came over and started to load the rinsed dishes into the washer, giving his hip a small bump with your own.

“You tried,” you shot him a quick wink, “that’s what counts. Besides, you had ice cream as a backup to save the day.”

“Luckily,” he agreed, pausing for a moment as he tried to choose his next words carefully, “umm...can I ask you for a huge favor?”

“Anything,” you promised softly as you finished stowing away the leftovers and wiping down the counter, “what’s up?”

“Can you watch Missy tomorrow night?” he asked quietly, almost as if he was embarrassed by his request. You quirked an eyebrow at him before leaning against the counter and offering him a curious expression, “I-I asked my mom but she’s got poker night with her friends. I can order pizza or whatever you want for dinner and-”

“Of course, Marcus,” you interrupted him before he could stammer further, pressing a finger against his lips. If you hadn’t been so caught up in your own feelings, you’d have noticed the ting of pink creeping into his cheeks as he tried not to focus too much on the feel of your touch, “you know she’s my favorite person on the planet, right along with her dad. Just let me know the time and I’ll be here - but I want Thai, including dessert!”

“Whatever you want,” he grinned softly, “you’re such a lifesaver, and I just...I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I know,” you teased, “what’s the occasion? Another date with Katie?”

“No,” he admitted, as you offered up a look of surprise. You’d met her for all of about five minutes the first time he went out with her as you’d arrived to hang out with Missy. She was nice - pretty, funny, warm and despite the bit of a jealous twinge in your stomach, you could see why Marcus would fall for her. You were surprised to hear that things didn’t work, “she umm...it was fine. It just...I can’t see myself with her, you know?”

“You just gotta test the waters and see how it goes,” you swallowed the lump that had welled up, “you never know until you know. Who’s the lucky lady? If it’s a date - I shouldn’t just assume. Perhaps you’re busy saving the world?”

“I think those days are past me,” he admitted, “we leave that to the kids - with guidance of course. I..yeah it’s a date. Her name’s Stacy.”

“Oh, another first date?” you tried to keep your tone light and teased as he focused on the floor and nodded, “how very lucky she is. Hopefully she knows that and hopefully you’ll have fun! That’s what? The third first date this month? Things are looking up Mr. Moreno!”

“It’s nothing,” he swore as he shook his head, “obviously they’re first dates and they stay first dates. It is what it is.”

“Hey,” you reached over and gave his arm a squeeze, “you’re amazing Marcus, and you deserve the best. One day you’re going to meet another woman that will knock you off your feet. You just have to be patient. What is it that they say? Love is patient, love is kind? Or something like that!”

“Yeah,” he agreed as his heart dropped slightly. If he was a brave man, a bold man, he’d have dropped to his knees and confessed his love for you then and there. He’d have told you that it was you, always you, that you were the only one he wanted. But...he didn’t. Instead he swallowed his pride and his nerves and offered you a nod, “I guess we shall see.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

But just as Katie had came and went, so did Stacy. And then Maria. And then Stefani. And then…

"Hey," you greeted Marcus as he came in the door, a dejected look on his face. You were sitting on the couch, doing some work on your laptop as you ate some ice cream. It wasn't terribly late, but Missy had already gone to bed, leaving you to your own devices. You'd gone and picked up around the house before settling on the couch, knowing Marcus had had an incredibly busy week.

"Hey," he let out a long sigh, immediately putting his feet on the coffee table. He looked at your laptop before holding his hand in front of the screen, "its late. No more working!"

"I'm multitasking," you insisted with a grin as you held up your ice cream and pointed at the television that was playing reruns of the Office. He tutted anyway and eventually you gave in, closing out your programs before closing your laptop, "fineeeee! So, how was it? Tell me everything!"

"Not much to tell," he shrugged softly as he took off his glasses and tossed them onto the table before pinching the bridge of his nose. You offered him a small smile before holding out the remainder of your ice cream to him. He looked at it as a smile tugged on the corners of his mouth and he took the bowl from your hand, "I don't think there's going to be a second date with her either."

"What? I thought Carla seemed lovely!" you were surprised by what appeared to be another failed date. You had liked her from all the things Marcus had told you about her, and you were positive that she would be the one, "what happened, Marcus?"

"I don't know," he shrugged lightly before taking a big bite of ice cream, "I don't think it was her. I-I think it was me."

"You didn’t like her?"

"I did," he swallowed thickly, feeling his heart rate pick up wildly, and he was positive you could hear it. Why, why, why couldn't he just tell you? Why couldn't he suck it up and open his heart up and confess his feelings? It would have been so easy, "its just...I umm…"

"You don't have to explain it to me," you insisted, reaching over and giving his arm a reassuring squeeze, "if you don't click, you don't click. Patience, my love, patience. There's no rush to get anywhere.

"Listen," he set the bowl down and turned towards, a serious look on his face, "I have to -"

Before he could say anything else your phone started buzzing on the table. You sighed lightly as you saw your boss' name light up the screen. You grimaced before grabbing it and offering him an apologetic look, "I should go and take this. I've got a big presentation tomorrow…"

"Oh yeah," he gave you a meek smile as you grabbed your laptop and bag before leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head and promising him you’d text later, "see you…"

You were quietly answering the phone as you rushed out of the house, leaving Marcus sitting there by myself. He let out a long sigh as he leaned back and tried to calm himself. Of course, of course, of course, the one time he'd gathered up some courage, something interrupted him.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Soon he'd finally tell you. He wanted to, desperately so. Every date he went on that wasn't with you just made him realize that he wanted nothing more than you. He wished it had been you on all those dates.

That made him realize he needed to do this. Marcus Moreno was going to make his move - finally.

»»————-　♡　————-««

And then he didn't.

He just...never seemed to get the timing the right. Every time he finally plucked up the courage to finally say something, he was interrupted. It was like the entirety of the universe was against him.

Eventually, he reluctantly gave in and decided to go on a second date with Carla. It was a combination of things, namely her asking him, but he gave in and said yes. It had killed him a little bit as he'd responded to her text; he'd been out with you and Missy doing some grocery shopping, watching as the two of you tried to pick a cereal (it was time for something other than Great White Bites, Missy had insisted). You'd caught his eye and smiled, but he still sent the text.

Anything to get his mind off of you.

But as soon as her excited response came through, Marcus felt like the worst person. Still - maybe he could make this work...maybe Carla wouldn't be so bad for him.

»»————-　♡　————-««

It wasn't too late when Marcus came home after his date. He'd thought about texting you to see if you wanted him to bring ice cream, but had decided against it. His mind was made up and set on one thing.

You.

His second date with Carla had taught him that despite how kind, funny, and pretty she was, she would never be the one for him. The one for him had been right in front of his face the whole time and he finally knew what he needed to do.

Even if you rejected him, he had to tell, to get it out in the open once and for all.

When he got home, the house was quiet, with only the soft sound of television signaling that someone was up. You'd left one of the lights in the living room on, creating a soft glow in the quiet space.

Then he spotted you and was left breathless. There you were, curled up on the end of the couch, a warm, thick blanket draped around as you slept. What a pure, innocent sight, and yet - he still felt like his heart was on fire.

Almost as if you sensed some sort of disturbance, you slowly opened your eyes and blinked away the bleariness to find Marcus watching you intently.

"Hi," you smiled lightly as at him, "didn't mean to fall asleep. Long day...Missy's off in bed already."

"Okay," he whispered gently before coming closer to you, "listen, I have to tell you something. And I'm afraid if I don't say it now then I'll never have the courage to do it again."

"Of course," you slowly sat up and gave him the megawatt smile he loved, "but first, tell me how your date was! I bet she was so excited to see you again as she should of course because-"

"I'm in love with you," he cut you off before you could ramble on, surprising the two of you. A warm, wicked flush of red colored his features as he clamped his hand over his mouth and breathed deeply, "I...I didn't mean to quite say it like that. I just...I can't get you out of my head. I realized that every date I had didn't work out for a reason - because they weren't you. I wanted it to be you, and well...I wanted to ask and just never got the nerve."

"Oh," you tried to suppress the smile on your face, but it was futile effort as you watched him closely, "you know you're my best friend, and I supported you going on those dates because you deserve the world, only the best, but to be honest, I'm glad they didn't work out…"

"W-why?" he stammered nervously as his whole body vibrated with energy, humming like wildfire as he anticipated your next response.

"I think you know why…"

"Will you say it...please? I want to hear it...to know I'm not crazy. I can't be the only one feeling this…" the look in his gentle brown eyes was nervous, more so than you had never seen. You threw off the blanket and slowly stood up, taking a few steps closer to him so there was almost no distance between your bodies.

"I'm in love with you too," you promised softly, as a grin broke out on his face, "I have been for a very long time and I was never sure if you felt the same and didn't want to ruin anything…"

Before saying anything else, Marcus reached up and delicately placed his hands on the sides of your face as he studied you. It was long before he moved closer, and then even closer before you finally closed the gap and kissed him softly.

It wasn't some big grandiose thing, rather it was soft and gentle - a longing kiss between two people who had been waiting on this moment for a long time. And it was everything. Marcus kissed you until you were breathless, leaning into his touch and chasing after him. It was just...utterly perfect.

When you broke apart for a breath of air, he pressed his forehead against yours, giving your lips another saccharine little kiss. It felt natural for him to hold you like this, his large hands on your waist as your arms wrapped around his neck.

“I should have done this a long time ago,” he whispered softly, to where you could barely hear it and in some ways, you wondered if it was even intended for your ears, “I’m sorry I waited so long.”

“It was worth the wait,” you promised him gently, “you’re worth the wait.”

“Will you stay?” he asked softly as you gave him a confused look, “stay. Please…”

“Tonight?”

“Forever,” he closed his eyes as he kissed you again, holding you gently in his vice like grip, “I love you.”

“Of course,” you nuzzled your nose against his, before touching over his face gently and giving him a gentle smile, “of course. There’s nothing I’d rather be than your forever.”

“My forever,” he repeated, “you are everything.”

“Can I ask you for something Marcus?”

“Anything.”

“Please kiss me again.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #wcbh #forever-rogue's follower celebration

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 5 years ago

Text

calculated iii, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: You wanted to say that you were able to control yourself around him and not to have wild sex at school. But this is Jeon Jungkook we’re talking about. And what Jungkook wants, Jungkook gets. You wore that pencil skirt for a reason, after all.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; intense smut (fem reader, semi-public sex, dirty talk, nipple play, choking, m-receiving oral, gagging, pussy spanking, fingering, penetrative sex); fluff; non-idol!AU - university!AU; dom!Jungkook x sub!noona!reader, ft Jimin once again, lol

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part i | part ii | part iii | part iv

Career Week was somewhat of a nightmare.

So much running around, prepping tables, setting up presentations, helping the guests with their computers before their seminars, and you had to be dressed professionally too. Not just ‘nice’ clothes, but white dress shirt, slim black tie, tailored black vest, and matching fitted black slacks. It had to be monotone, it had to be hyper professional, and you had to wear heels.

Why had you agreed to this again?

Oh, yes, Kim Namjoon on his knees begging for help because he was overworked and they needed volunteers. And you, being far too responsible, accepted.

Not only were you also overworked, but Jeon Jungkook was staring at you across the auditorium.

In all-black �� leather jacket, high-necked shirt, slim-fit jeans. Sharp jawline, tanned high cheekbones, piercing dark brown eyes, his black hair pushed back with a few strands on his forehead, revealing his clean undercut.

And he was smirking at you.

You highly doubted he was here to investigate prospective career paths. Actually, you were a hundred-and-ten percent positive that that was not the reason he was here and the soreness between your inner thighs proved it. You were willing to bet Park Jimin’s right nutsack.

Yeah, sorry Jimin, but you needed all your body parts.

For one reason, really, and that reason was staring you right now.

Who was going to hire him when he was dressed like that anyway? You certainly wouldn’t. Mostly because it was distracting. No one could work with Jeon Jungkook looking like that. You couldn’t, anyway. Well, maybe if his work was wrecking your–

Get back to your damn task, you scolded yourself.

You were setting up chairs for the cardiologist that was arriving soon. All the doctors always had tons of students listening, so the administration instructed you to pack as many seats that could be crammed into the space without causing a fire hazard. You unfolded the metal chairs, arranging them neatly, already knowing they would be an incomprehensible mess when the students left and that you would be the one cleaning up after them.

Sigh.

Come to think of it, it was all Park Jimin’s fault that you were being violently undressed by Jungkook’s eyes right now. If he had kept his trap shut and let you live in blissful ignorance, maybe you wouldn’t be trying to hide your wincing every time you bent over. You snuck a glance at Jungkook.

He cocked an eyebrow, highly amused.

Never mind, you probably still would have been accosted at Calculus I office hours, except instead of the door being closed and locked and having Jimin’s warning texts, you two probably would have been caught and expelled.

You grumbled and slid a chair into place, taking back your former thoughts and thanking Jimin in your mind. He wasn’t even here to witness your inner struggle.

Jimin probably would have found it funny.

You went back to your chairs, not addressing Jeon Jungkook’s presence anymore because if you looked at him again, you probably would have abandoned your post. And he knew it.

The next day, you already knew Jungkook would show up again. Mostly because he texted you a winking face of a semicolon and parenthesis, to which you didn’t respond, because you would probably get roped into phone sex in under twenty seconds, and you had to help this extremely riveting lawyer set up his laptop for the projector.

As in, you were ready to tape his mouth shut as he blabbed on and on about his work and how important it was to society, which it was, because defense attorneys were very important, but this guy’s laptop was a fucking hot mess of icons all over his desktop. This was a personal pet peeve of yours, as you liked to be neat and organized, with everything clearly labeled with dates. You didn’t care about most people’s personal habits, but it was annoying when you were trying to assist and the owner of said laptop was not shutting up and demanding noises of affirmation that you were listening.

If it wasn’t Jungkook demanding you to swallow his cock, you honestly couldn’t give a single shit–

You finally got his PowerPoint working and had him scroll through the slides to make sure it was the correct one. He thanked you and you realized the older man was looking at you up and down, the same way Jungkook usually did, except in this case you were not even remotely interested.

Guess everyone had the right to get a good look before they die.

You were wearing a white chiffon blouse with a black silk neck scarf, with a tight knee-length black pencil skirt, sheer tights and sleek black heels. You knew how good your ass looked in this skirt and you had worn it for a specific purpose.

“We will be letting the students in five minutes early to get settled,” you stated briskly, cutting the older man from his daydreams. “You will have forty-five minutes for your presentation, and then we’ll have a fifteen-minute question session, led by my associate, Kim Namjoon here.”

As if on cue, Namjoon appeared, cheerful smile with cute dimples, handing the lawyer a mic.

“Let’s test the microphone and the backup to make sure you don’t have any hiccups,” Namjoon instructed merrily, instantly captivating the man’s attention and diverting it from you.

You mouthed a ‘thank you’ behind the man’s back and Namjoon gave you the tiniest of nods as you excused yourself. Hmph. You knew people would notice – you were wearing makeup for once and would be around students and professionals all day, after all – but to be so shameless and gawk like that was annoying. Plus, the guy probably had a wife and kids.

You made your way to the bathroom to check your appearance. Maybe your makeup was a bit off or something. You had Jimin check you over this morning. Surprisingly, he knew a lot about cosmetics and how to look good in all lighting. Must be a dance major thing.

Ah, the door to the women’s bathroom. You hiked your skirt up a bit do you could use your damn knees to walk, because they had been suffocating for the past two hours–

Long fingers suddenly gripped your upper arm and yanked you around the corner, slamming you into a muscular body and black biker jacket. You nearly stumbled in your heels, but a second hand came to practically lift you off the floor and shove you into the wall.

“Good afternoon, noona.”

A clear, silvery voice.

You couldn’t possibly guess who it was.

“Why, fancy seeing you here, Jung–”

You were abruptly cut off by his lips crashing into yours, one hand grabbing the back of your head and disturbing your perfect bun. You whimpered, feeling him shove you into the wall again, your shoulder blades hitting the painted brick. His tongue slid into your mouth, exhaling into your throat and forcing you swallow his breath. Your hands clutched your skirt, moaning as his hard body pressed yours against the wall.

Jungkook drew back, panting a little. Looking so handsome with his slightly slicked-back hair, black strands around his right eye, chiseled jawline, silver hoops glinting in the hall light. He arched a sculpted eyebrow at you, smirking. His pink lips had a little red on them from kissing you.

“Now, you know you can’t be looking so delicious and not expect me to want to eat you up,” he purred, licking your lips. Your breathing hitched at the touch, unlocking your death grip on your skirt.

“What are you talking about?” you answered evenly despite your panties literally turning into Niagara Falls with the way he was looking at you like a carnivore at an all-meat buffet. “I have to dress like this for Career Week. Everyone has to dress professionally.”

Jungkook nodded, not believing a single word coming out of your mouth. His right hand came up, ink black tattoos against tan skin, and reached around to your bun, slowly pulling the hairpins out. Your skin tingled at the sensation of your hair gradually unravelling.

“A professional that I would hire to sit on my dick,” he mused.

You raised an eyebrow at him, your hair tumbling around your shoulders. “Subtle.”

Jungkook showed you the removed hairpins, opened his jacket, and tucked them in his inner pocket.

“I wouldn’t work for you anyway,” you added haughtily.

With each passing moment, Jungkook was becoming increasingly amused and aroused. You could tell by the way he was shoving his crotch into your thigh and by how wide his smirk was getting. The slacks he was wearing did nothing to hide his erection and you had a sneaking suspicion that he didn’t care.

“Oh? Why not?”

“I don’t know if I could trust someone younger than me to do a good job.”

He was unbuttoning your chiffon blouse now, humming. “I’m good at many things.” His dark eyes flickered to yours. “I think you would know.”

Your hands grabbed his despite him already having all the visible buttons completely open. Cold air drifted onto your heaving chest and white lace bra.

“Jungkook, we’re in a public place, again,” you hissed, narrowing your eyes at him.

“I don’t recall that being a problem,” he drawled, removing his hands from yours and squeezing your ass. “I’m beginning to think you like it.”

You sucked in a breath as his strong hands kneaded you through your skirt. Your hormones would absolutely let Jungkook rip off your clothes right here and let him fuck you, but the sliver of your brain that had any sense at all reminded you that you had to find a closed space. Jungkook slapped your ass, loudly, the sound echoing across the empty hallway. You nearly moaned, but bit your tongue, glaring at him.

“I have to get back,” you snapped. “And look presentable.”

Jungkook licked his teeth. “Hm. You have an hour before you have to appear to the public eye.”

Who the heck told him that? He smirked slyly at you as he saw your reaction.

“I could drag you to the bathroom–”

“At least give me more class than the woman’s bathroom,” you interrupted.

Jungkook looked annoyed that you had cut him off and also looked like he was going to remind you later. His fingers dug into your hips sharply and you gasped, back pressed flat against the wall. He inhaled a deep breath and began again, voice dangerously low.

“As I was saying,” he continued. “I’m going to take you into this classroom that I stole the key for.”

You frowned as Jungkook hoisted you up swiftly, princess-style, shirt still wide open. Fuck, what was he so strong for? He carried you down the hallway to the classrooms. You tried to close your shirt, but he growled at you, so you rolled your eyes and pushed the sides open, letting your bra-covered tits hang out. He seemed satisfied about this.

“Why would you steal a key?” you muttered as he deftly kicked the door open.

Jungkook slid through the door sideways. “So I could fuck you, of course.”

He dropped you and you had to catch yourself on your heels before you broke an ankle and ate shit. Half the lights turned on. You could hear him locking the door as you smoothed your skirt.

You turned to face him, saying, “You shouldn’t be a thief just because you’re horny, Jungkook.”

Jungkook turned around slowly from the now locked door. You were about to say something else, but your words died in your throat as you witnessed the overwhelming lust in his dark piercing eyes.

“I would be a thief, a murderer, and evade taxes for your body,” he snarled, advancing on you.

You pulled your blouse out of your skirt so he wouldn’t rip it, backing up into the desks. “You’ll get caught with the last one,” you said quietly, already removing your blouse and letting it fall onto a spare seat. “First two are acceptable.”

Jungkook grinned devilishly, licking his pink lips.

“Come here.”

You chewed on your lower lip, staring at his beautiful eyes, finding yourself already walking to him, heels clicking loudly in the empty room, but it didn’t matter, because he was the master now and you were the willing servant. Or slave.

Take your pick.

He smirked at your obedience, placing his hands on your shoulders, stopping you. His dark orbs lingered down your body, focusing on all his favorite spots, pressing his fingertips into your skin.

“One day,” you said quietly. “We’re going to get in trouble.”

Jungkook’s powerful dark orbs shifted upwards, capturing yours. Time slowed down. You stared into his dark brown eyes, unable to look away, your heart beating in time with his words.

“You’re already in trouble.”

Voice haunting you, teasing smirk on his lips, and perfectly in command.

“From the second you let me have my hands on you.”

You gasped as his nails dug into your skin, scratching down your collarbones, leaving red marks. He snapped the straps of your bra, hard, and you whined, eyes pleading for him to take it off. His palms pressed into the lace cups, squeezing them roughly. Tongue dancing in between his lips as he felt your nipples harden, barely covered by the lace.

“You’re so dirty, noona,” he purred, lowering his palms and pinching your nipples through the thin fabric, smirking at your wanton moan. “Wearing such slutty underwear under these professional clothes.”

You whimpered as he tugged on them. “No one’s going to see them but you, Jungkook.”

He clamped your nipples between his thumbs and knuckles, dragging you to him. You sank your teeth into your lower lip, pussy throbbing as you collided with his firm chest. His breath was scorching hot against your skin, making you shiver.

“What if someone finds out? Some idiot like a perverted old man staring at your ass in this skirt?”

You snorted. “I’ll rip his head off.”

Jungkook snickered, flicking your nipples with your answer. “You wouldn’t let me do it for you?”

Your hips rolled into his, hands on his waist to keep yourself up as he played with you. “I’ll reattach it for you so you can do the same.”

He laughed, almost a little too jovially for the part he was playing, but then he was back, tipping his head close to yours, blowing soft air onto your lips. You frowned, glaring at him for the lack of kiss.

“If possible, you’re even hotter dressed like this,” Jungkook murmured, his forehead against yours. “So prim and proper, even with a cute gag tied around your neck,” he added, playing with the ends of your neck scarf. “You could be a CEO, and I could be the janitor fucking you on your penthouse-floor desk.” He was undoing your scarf now, teasing it apart, making you breathless. “Maybe fuck you against the window so everyone can see how good I make you feel, noona.”

“Give yourself a little more credit than a janitor,” you muttered, stiffening as Jungkook ran his fingertips over your throat, nails grazing your skin.

“True, I would rather be your secretary so I can follow you around and stare at your ass in this skirt,” he chuckled, lacing his fingers around your neck. Thumb under your ear, the other four fingers under your other ear. You made eye contact with him. He looked almost bored, one of his eyebrows raised, but he was watching you, predatory and attentive.

“I know what I’m doing.”

His whisper was so soft that you barely heard it, but the words were there.

His grip tightened around your throat.

You gasped, feeling the blood flow thinning, hazing your mind. Jungkook watched your expression, reaching around with the hand that was holding your scarf, unclasping your lace bra. You could feel it fall down your arms, but your thoughts were rapidly being clouded by lightheadedness and lust, Jungkook smirking at you as he lifted the silk scarf into your vision.

“J… Jungkook…” you choked out.

The mole underneath his lower lip winked at you as he grinned, brushing the silk against your hard, abused nipples, touch so light, and yet it made your whine, wanting more stimulation but unable to ask because you knew he was toying with you.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook taunted. “Not intense enough for my naughty noona?”

He choked you harder and you couldn’t respond, eyes rolling back into your head as black spots danced in your vision, the sensation intensifying but still not enough, not enough, and you shoved your hips into his repeatedly, whimpering, hands clutching his black shirt, nails digging into his abs.

“So needy for me,” he breathed, feathery touches of silk against your nipples. “Are you only mine?”

He leaned forward, loosening his grip a little. The blood violently rushed back into your head and all you could hear Jungkook’s cruel whisper of your name, tearing a moan from your lips, a raspy yes, yes, fuck, Jungkook, I’m only yours.

He chuckled darkly.

Then he forced you to your knees, tits bouncing uncomfortably as you slid on your heels, knees hitting the tile floor. You clutched his clothed legs, panting, brain only half-functioning due to the lack of blood and the relentless teasing. You lifted your head back up to look at him, panting hard.

Jungkook cracked his neck sharply, a harsh pop. “I want to believe you, noona, but you’re dressed so fucking sexy that I can’t.” His dark eyes bore into you, tearing you up, and you were dripping onto your inner thighs. He emphasized his words with a raise of his eyebrow.

“Letting other people fantasize about this body that belongs to me isn’t acceptable.”

His hands reached down, fingers of his right hand playing with the button of his pants, tattoos dancing with his movement. He smirked as you watched him, eyes darting from his face to his hands. Shit, you were nearly drooling with anticipation. You swallowed as he teased the button free.

“You gonna show me that you remember who you belong to?”

You nodded quickly, maybe too quickly, but it was doomed now anyway because Jungkook was lowering the zipper, pushing down his pants and underwear, past his muscular thighs. It was obvious this was getting him off as much as it was getting you off, because he was rock-hard, leaking, tip already a dark red. Jungkook grabbed the back of your head and shoved his hips into your cheek, smearing his pre-cum onto your skin, all the way up to your cheekbone. He hissed, using his hand to press the head against your temple, nearly into your hair.

Fuck, he was so fucking close to your mouth, but he wasn’t letting you have it.

Damnnit.

Your tongue snaked out and softly licked his balls, eyes on his face, watching him tip his head back and moan. You licked more, creeping your head closer, pressing your lips against his hot skin. He was letting you do it, holding his cock out of the way as you wrapped your lips around his balls and sucked, pushing them around with your tongue, pleading noises in your throat, begging him for his cock as you bobbed your head up and down under his hips.

Jungkook’s dark eyes shifted down to you, triumphant grin on his lips.

“You want to swallow my cock, noona?” he teased, smacking it against your face, leaving a string of pre-cum connecting your cheek to his cock. You narrowed your eyes at him, as if to say, no fucking shit, you punk ass bitch, and he chuckled deep in his chest. He looked past your head, down your back.

“Such a nice ass.”

You smacked his leg, aware that he was doing it on purpose to piss you off. He smirked knowingly, placing his palm on your forehead and pushing you off his balls.

“Swallow it all and don’t choke,” Jungkook snarled, shoving his cock into your open mouth.

Your eyes widened at the sudden intrusion, relaxing your throat muscles as Jungkook forcefully pushed into your lips, sighing with satisfaction as he buried himself to the hilt, his strong fingers tangled in your hair.

“Fuck, so good,” he moaned, making his cock throb into the roof of your mouth. You whined, hands on his hips, waiting for him to let you move. “Your throat feels so fucking good, noona. If only they knew how good you are, how perfectly slutty you are for me.” He snickered, releasing his hand, glaring down into your eyes.

“But they’re never going to know, because you’ll never service another cock ever again.”

You whimpered, nails digging into his thighs.

He ticked his chin at you. “Go on, noona. Show me how much you love my cock.”

You began to move, pressing your tongue against the bottom as you slid up and down his length, moaning at his taste. So good. You generated more saliva and ran it all over the head, sucking hard. He inhaled sharply as you teased the sensitive underside, tongue against the opening.

“That’s it,” Jungkook breathed. “Give it to me like you mean it.”

You gripped his thighs and began to bob your head back and forth, ramming the head into the back of your throat and squeezing it before arching your neck so it ran across the roof of your mouth and then back down so it hit your throat again. Was this going to make you hoarse? Probably, but you didn’t a single shit, because Jungkook moaning for you and telling you how good you were was much more important. The pace was slow at first, but you went faster and faster, tighter, your breasts bouncing with every movement, eyes closed to savor his taste and steel your concentration of not gagging because Jungkook was so big, so thick, so perfectly rough, and your tongue could feel him throbbing inside your mouth.

“Fuck,” he growled above you, nearly feral with desire. “Fuck, I’m going to cum down that perfect throat of yours, noona.”

His thighs tensed under your hands and you knew he was close. You increased the intensity, neck straining, already aching with how fast you were going.

“Drink it all and don’t fucking waste it.”

Jungkook grabbed you by your hair and thrusted his hips into your face, moaning lustfully as he shot into your mouth, hot creamy strings into your throat. You swallowed fast to avoid choking, gulping loudly as he gave you more, more, fuck it was so delicious that you gasped, swirling your tongue around his jerking cock and lapping it all up. Whimpering, you wrapped your lips around the head and milked it dry, rubbing your lips against the skin where the head and length connected.

“You’re so fucking good,” Jungkook sighed, running his fingers through your hair, pulling it away from your face. “So messy and dirty. I love it, noona.” He pressed your mouth down his entire length and held you there.

Your name drifted out of his lips, a sweet exhale.

He kept you there. You felt some of your spit drip down your chin and hit your breasts. You flinched at the coldness, still holding onto his hips. Jungkook finally looked down at you, chest heaving, panting. He looked like he wanted to say something. You shot him a questioning look, unable to respond, mouth still full of his cock.

He released your head, untangling his fingers from your hair. You drew your mouth back, rubbing your jaw and throat a little. Jungkook had a strange expression, lips parted, brows furrowed, the muscles in his neck tensed. He seemed a bit spaced out. You tilted your head.

Something felt off.

You stood up with as much grace as you could, knees aching, heels snapping to the tile floor. He still wasn’t looking at you. You backed up, to the desks, finding a study one.

“Jungkook.”

You smacked the wood loudly with your flat palm.

He whipped his head towards you, dark eyes flashing. Perfect. You smirked, placing your hands on your pencil skirt. Sank your fingers in, gripping the fabric. Jungkook’s voracious eyes watched your movement, each hike revealing more and more of your legs. A slow smirk formed on his lips. You yanked your skirt all the way up to your waist, revealing your white lace panties and sheer pantyhose, black fabric bunched around your waist.

Jungkook reached down and pulled his pants up, raising his eyebrows as he walked over, lower lip in between his teeth as he grinned at you.

“That’s a dangerous position to be in, noona,” he purred. “You know I love fucking you on a desk.”

You bounced your ass up onto the table, closing your legs, knees together. Placed your hands on your lap, pushing your tits together. Jungkook licked his lips, the predatory glint back in his eye. You kept your tone stern, with a hint if disapproval.

“Really? Because for a second there, I was beginning to think you lost your nerve.”

The menace in his eyes made your shiver with anticipation. You could tell Jungkook liked it too, your word selection, your tone, your defiance. He shrugged out of his leather jacket, and it fell to the floor with an oppressive thump. You sucked in a tight breath. The shirt was short sleeved, exposing his tattooed right forearm and his equally beautiful tanned left one. Some of his long black hair was falling down, brushing against his right cheekbone.

His eyes were so dark that you felt like they were devouring you.

Jungkook placed his large hands on your knees and vehemently shoved them apart, spreading your legs wide. He gave you a cold, expressionless stare as he placed a hand on your stomach, putting you onto your elbows, hips tipped up towards him. You were embarrassingly wet, juices soaked into your inner thighs, lace panties already molded to your soaked folds, the sheer pantyhose doing nothing to protect you from him and his hungry eyes. His voice was icy, making your pussy throb with need.

“Noona, if you close your legs, I’m going to punish you,” Jungkook warned.

Part of you wanted to know what the punishment was, but the other part of you really wanted to orgasm, so kept your snide remark to yourself and simply nodded.

Jungkook removed his hands from your knees and placed them on your shuddering breasts. Fuck. You hadn’t realized you were so horny until Jungkook touched you. A pained whimper strained in your throat.

The side of his lips curved upwards.

“Does my dirty, slutty noona want to be fucked?” His nails sank down, digging into your skin. “Do you want to be used by me, your tight little pussy stretched out and pleading for more?” Jungkook leaned forward, breathing into your face, growling whisper against your lips. He pinched your nipples and you moaned, wanting to kiss him, but knowing he wasn’t going to let you. He chuckled darkly, seeing your desperation.

“Do you want to be a slave for Jungkookie’s cock, noona?”

Fuuuuuuuck.

Your heart was beating so fast that your breathing was coming out in little gasps as he twisted your nipples harshly, rubbing the tips with his thumb. Your legs shook, threatening to close because the lack of friction was killing you.

“Y-yes, Jungkook, fuck yes.”

He yanked on your nipples and slapped them, making you hiss with pain, flinching as the sting shot up your chest. Jungkook reached into his back pocket and produced the silk neck scarf.

“Keep quiet for me noona or everyone will know how much of a slut you are for me.”

And then he shoved your own scarf into your parted lips, gagging you. Not a second too soon, because, without warning, Jungkook immediately spanked your barely clothed clit. You yelped around the silk, thighs quivering. He gripped one of your thighs, digging his nails into it, tearing the sheer pantyhose a little.

“Don’t move and take it,” he snarled.

Your back arched as Jungkook began to slap your pussy, hard, unforgiving, loud, and making you wetter and wetter, so much so his hand was slipping a little with each smack. You screamed around the scarf, hips trembling as they rose to meet each hit, flaring pain in between your thighs but so, so good. He clenched his jaw, dark eyes on your quickly reddening pussy lips that were sucking your panties deeper and deeper into your slit.

“Fuck,” he growled. “Fuck, you’re so hot and so fucking perfect for me.”

He removed his hand from your thigh and ripped the center seam of your pantyhose apart.

You started, eyes widening as you watched him tear through it, yelling at him through the scarf. You still needed to wear those! The small tears were one thing, but a full-on giant rip at the crotch was not going to be comfortable to wear for the rest of the day.

Jungkook smirked, raising a hand to his ear. “What’s that? Can’t hear you.”

You glared at him and was about to remove the scarf from your mouth to scold him, but his smirk turned into a roguish grin.

“Hm? Slap you harder and abuse your clit?”

You paled.

“My pleasure.”

You threw you head back as Jungkook mercilessly spanked your now only lace-covered clit, impossibly fast, towering over you and hooking his arm under your back, dragging you to him, arching your spine more, more, so your tits were straight up, bouncing right in his face as he changed from smacking your clit to rubbing it just as fast, rougher, so intense you were hoarsely wailing into the gag.

All of a sudden, your orgasm violently rammed into you, pleasure racking your entire body, amplified by stinging pain. Your pussy clenched around nothing, wetly squelching as Jungkook breathed hotly down on your nipples, still rubbing you through your orgasm, not letting up. You shook your head furiously, trying to tell him it was too much, that you were too sensitive, but you didn’t lift your hands to stop him, only spreading your fingers against the table, palms flat as your hips raised to his fingers.

You felt his hair brush against your nipples as he licked your cleavage, smirking up at your face.

“One more and then I’ll fuck you the way I want to, noona.”

Your legs were losing feeling from how hard you were locking them in place as you felt Jungkook pry your lace panties out of your pussy, shoving them to one side. Oh shit. You moaned as you felt him shove two fingers into you, eyes squeezing shut as he added a third, scissoring them as he smiled cruelly at you, eagerly watching your reaction.

“Such a greedy pussy, sucking in my fingers like this,” Jungkook drawled, your walls clenching around them, feeling every callus and every joint, all the way to his knuckles. “All mine, my beautiful, slutty noona.”

You would have asked Jungkook what the time was if your brain could still function, but your brain timed itself out, because Jungkook was thrusting his fingers into you now, filling you up, and feeding your need and desperation, assaulting your pussy with pleasure. The pain of your stinging, puffy lips rubbing against his hand added to the ecstasy, heightening it, your moaning now unintelligible behind the silk scarf that was saturated with your saliva. The sound was obscene, sloppy smacking sounds of your drenched hole getting pounded into the desk.

You threw your head back and choked out his name around the makeshift gag, throbbing pussy clamping down on his fingers. Thick, viscous liquid gushed out onto his palm, the back of his hand, dripping down to his wrist. It was so intense that your entire body jerked up into Jungkook’s face, hitting him with your tits.

If Jungkook was mad about it, he didn’t show it. He wrenched his slick fingers out and you whined, watching him with glazed eyes as licked them off, ferally growling at your taste. He released your back from his arm and you slid down, laying against the desk, panting.

“You taste extra delicious today, noona,” he chuckled. “Candy always tastes better in cute packaging.”

You barely had time to register that Jungkook had just compared you to a fucking convenience store snack before he yanked down his pants again, whipping out a foil packet and ripping it open. Less than a second and the condom was on, and then Jungkook shoved his cock into you, a startled gasp dying in your very over-used throat.

Jungkook moaned your name above you, softly and lustfully, pulling your hips closer to him so he was all the way inside you. You clenched around his length and he sighed, small smirk on his pink lips, eyelids fluttering.

“You’re going to kill me one day with how perfectly tight you are for me,” he mumbled.

Your eyes found his and he grinned, looking down at you through his lashes, his hair obscuring half his face.

Fuck, you could stare at him all day.

Jungkook placed your legs around his waist, finally letting them rest from the forced spreading. He roughly jerked his hips into yours and you whimpered, nails clawing into the desk. His fingers dug into your hips and he set his jaw, beginning a hard, fast pace, slapping your hips together, fucking you into the desk. It scraped noisily into the floor, but neither of you cared, you abused pussy lips rubbing against his crotch every time his hips met yours, carried to new heights of pain and pleasure, loving every second, every moment of Jungkook using you to chase his own orgasm, his cock swelling and dragging against your tight walls. So much. So full.

You could never be satisfied with another cock.

“Fuck.”

Jungkook hissed, grip on your hips tightening, bruising you with his fingertips.

“Fuck, noona, I love you.”

Your heart stopped.

And then your orgasm crashed down, overtaking you completely, your head smacking the desk and seeing stars, clenching around Jungkook’s cock and pulsating violently around his length, soaking his thighs with your juices, scent so strong you were sure whatever class that was going to use this lecture hall next was going to smell your cum splattering to the floor.

Jungkook gritted his teeth and rammed his hips into you, dragging you down to meet every thrust, intensifying your orgasm, ripping your pantyhose even more. Once, twice, three times, and he groaned, shuddering as he spilled into the condom, cock shivering inside you as he came. You could feel how much it was, pressing against your walls.

His long hair was all over his face, black strands clinging to his tan skin, sweat dripping off his chin, pink lips quivering, dark eyes roaming over your fucked-out form. Panting hard, matching your heavy, grating breaths behind your now saliva-drenched neck scarf. After a long moment, Jungkook reached down and held onto the condom, slowly pulling out of you.

Holy fuck.

You reached up with a shaking hand, pulling the silk out of your mouth. It came out in a long strip of fabric, smacking against your cheek as your removed it from your lips.

Holy.

Fuck.

You sat up, your body screaming at you, seeing Jungkook breathing hard, tying up the condom.

“Did you just tell me you love me?”

Jungkook’s ears turned bright red. He chewed on his lip, biting it hard before facing you. Dark brown eyes suddenly vulnerable, scared. It was the most uncharacteristic expression you had ever witnessed on Jeon Jungkook’s chiseled, handsome face.

“Uh… yeah.”

There was a moment where you realized both you two were mostly naked in a random classroom, clothes thrown everywhere, having made a mess once again.

“Sorry,” Jungkook added quickly. “It slipped out.”

You blinked at him. “Why are you apologizing?”

He rubbed his nose, looking away.

“Well… aren’t you just fucking me because you like to be dominated?”

You frowned. “No, I’m fucking you because I’m in love with you.”

You saw Jungkook freeze. He turned his head robotically, eyes wide and doe-like. “R-really?”

You looked down to notice that your heels were on the tile floor. When had you lost those? You grumbled, trying to straighten out your panties and the remains of your pantyhose. It was doomed. You shrugged, dangling your legs over the edge of the desk as you looked back at Jungkook and his surprised expression. You raised an eyebrow.

“Are you really that much of an idiot?” you muttered, your own cheeks burning, letting out a puff of annoyed air. “Yes, I love you. Why else would I tolerate you staring at me like I’m some kind of zoo animal? Why else would I risk getting in trouble by running around like this? Why else would I let you fuck me at school, in the middle of the damn day, again?”

Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck. “Erm… because I’m hot?”

You rubbed your forehead and sighed exasperatedly, standing up, instantly wincing. Jungkook took a step forward to catch you, but he almost tripped on his pants down his ankles. You caught yourself against the desk and raised a hand, shaking your head.

“Pack your damn dick,” you muttered. You yanked your tights down your legs, removing them and balling them up. They were useless now anyway. You found your bra and put it back on as you eyed your chiffon blouse. Good thing it wasn’t ripped. It only took you a moment to slip it back on, rebuttoning it and tucking it into your skirt. You pulled your pencil skirt back down, straightening it, thighs immediately sticking together from your own fluids.

Yup, still no more comfortable than yanking your pants back on after a session with Jungkook.

You noticed him putting his leather jacket back on and picking up the condom wrapper. He took the silk scarf from the table and shoved it in his back pocket. You went back to him to gather your shoes, but he knelt down, holding out your black heels as if you were Cinderella.

“I can just–”

“Step.”

His tone was sharp and you immediately obeyed, raising your foot and stepping into your shoe. First one, then the other. Jungkook stood back up, exhaling a little. You looked up at him. His chocolate eyes flitted about tensely. He opened his mouth to speak.

“Do you… uh…”

You cut him off. “Jungkook, if you cheat on me, I will personally castrate you with a spoon.”

He cringed. “Ouch.”

You took the used condom and the wrapper bits from him, shoving them into your balled-up pantyhose. You marched towards the door confidently, pain shooting throughout your body with every step. Jungkook called after you.

“Your hairpins.”

You turned your head back a little.

“You can drop them off at my apartment later.”

And then you unlocked the door and stepped out of the classroom.

Park Jimin waved at you, grinning. Plump lips curved into a mischievous smile, wearing a denim jacket and jeans. You almost jumped seeing him standing there. What the fuck is with this guy’s timing? He eyed your hand holding your ruined pantyhose and you put it behind your back, glaring at him.

“I told Namjoon you had a lady emergency.” Jimin wiggled his eyebrows at you before holding up your phone and black purse, the belongings you had left in the back room. “You took longer than you should have.”

You felt your ears burn. “Shit. I need to get back.”

“To Jungkook, yeah,” Jimin chimed teasingly, making you glower at him.

Of course. Jungkook had turned Jimin into his scout for your escapades. Fantastic. You suddenly felt a strong presence behind you. The door had opened and Jungkook’s arm snaked around your waist, yanking you possessively to his side. He placed his chin on top of your head, inhaling the scent of your hair.

“You wanna go on a date, noona?” Jungkook purred, his free hand playing with the ends of your disheveled hair.

You pursed your lips. “I have to get back and help Namjoon.”

Jimin waved a hand. “He’ll be fine for one day. Plus, you’re being kidnapped.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Jungkook slapped his hand over your lips, marching you in the opposite direction of Career Week, Jimin skipping behind you two, cheerfully humming.

part iv

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic

777 notes · View notes

lillian-nator · 4 years ago

Text

Everything below was made by Me, Eye, and Ethan over the course of like 3 days

Thank you (with additions from sleepy my beloved)

Okay

Wilbur isn’t the oldest

Techno is

But it’s a war run empire, they take pride in their troops and armies and triumphs

The soldiers come first

So Techno is the commander in chief , the general

Wilbur, second born

Is heir to the throne

To the diplomatic side of the empire

and Tommy Gets shit

He doesn’t even understand why Phil had another kid

Of course there is the situation where Techno or Wilbur dies, or one of them steps down, but it won’t happen

Was he really born to be the understudy

he was born as a backup

Tommy was an accident but they’re not gonna let the public know that

like he's the Zuko

Phil doesn't really pay attention to him so his mother picks up the slack

Wilbur is 21

Techno’s 23

Tommy’s 17

However I have a really good idea for prince Tommy, just like what if he doesn’t like the way that people treat him? Like he doesn’t want all these yes men he wants to be he wants to be told now, he want somebody to tell him he that’s against the rules he just wants him like structure he just want someone to hate him he want someone to not like him and say no and tell him that he’s stupid which is why he does all of the stupid shit that he does

Ever since he was like 4

Everyone has said yes

He wants to defy them

He wants to just do something to make someone say no

That and he lowkey

He wants ~~Phil~~ Wilbur to pay attention to him

Is a Little Shit who causes so many problems on purpose to try and find someone who will push back against him

He wants someone to give him structure and discipline but overall he just wants his family’s attention

He’s broken shit, thrown temper tantrums, he’s started fights and he’ll he’s even snuck out and stole things

He’s never been stopped

People consider him snobby and spoiled

He's a brat

He gets everything he wants, but he doesn’t really want it, he just asks to see if they’ll tell him no

Tubbo = Stable Boy

Ranboo = Prince of another country (probably the americas)

Ranboo could definitely fit the role of an overseas royal prince who Tommy sees as a regal, spoiled, uppity little shit. Like Tubbo, who Tommy sneaks everywhere, has met Ranboo and likes him. Tommy can't possibly see why, he's unbearable.

Bench Trio = Best freinds

I think that Tommy and his brothers were always very very close

they just have jobs and shit

They took over Phil's shit

they probably drift apart as they get older, Wilbur and techno have duties and Tommy starts his quest for attention, they grow apart from their little brother without realizing it

Tommy and his mother (kristin) are always and have continued to be close

she definitely chides him, and tells him quietly to not do things for all of his "misbehaviors"

but there is only so much that she can do, because she has the duty to not make a scene

that and she's not who he's looking for attention from

You may be asking "How is crime recognized, identified, discussed, and atoned for?" more specifically, "Is it a 'you stole my bread so without asking anyone I'm cutting your hand off' or is it the US court system" ~~You may also be Ethan~~

The answer is:

like the UKs

But more like

Okay so the Supreme Judicial system, but Phil (and then Wilbur) has teh final say

Court system, but with Phil overseeing everything

instead of a judge

HOWEVER, that's in the national level

in smaller villages, its more of the cut your hand off system

because the judicial system isn't regulated

So bonus questions:

Punishments and the identification of whether a crime counts as a crime?

soldiers can call crimes out, and citizens can file reports

Phil's not really shit, he just doesn't show Tommy any attention because he's busy with the other two

Just honestly doesn't even care about most shit Tommy does

Like, doesn't pay attention to it until it affects him, he's busy running a country and training the boys to running a country

I don’t think they (the brothers) realize how badly everything is affecting Tommy

The only one who knows anything about the full extent would be his mom, and she’s in a similar boat to Tommy

Phil doenst really see her much either

Not like she could “Make a Scene” trying to get Phil to pay attention to his youngest, to actually love his child, he’s barely around

Kristin and Phil spend time together at night, but during the day everything is for the cameras

its like the UK royals, how they do shit just for the people

And Phil doenst want to hear about the kids at night, he wants to spend time with his wife

Tommy has stolen a car and will do it again

Just fucking hopped in and took a joyride

With Absolutely No Repercussions

Do you think Phil ever tries to hire like, a nanny or something? In the aftermath of the Car Incident? Yes, and it never worked

Tommy, like 15 at the time, pissed as hell as a random ass woman tries to tell him to go to bed at 8:30 pm

Tommy wants somebody to tell him no but not somebody hired to tell him no mannn

Tommy goes to like parties - like ragers

he has a network of really famous friends like young actors and shit

dude is a party animal, underage drinking, rumors of drugs, he’s the PR Teams worst nightmare, but they’re not going to say anything

The press makes up SO MUCH SHIT

The press once said that he had done cocaine when it was really one of his friends

Tommy adopts two dogs (hello Betty and Walter) without asking either of his parents

Betty is short for Elizabeth

He brings them in off the street

Literal abandoned street dogs and he goes, mine now

He like, walks down the street with sunglasses on, and just doesn't look at anyone as he walks the dogs, who have like black nice leather leashes

The paparazzi always finds him walking the dogs

like a modern celebrity

Mans can and will call the paparazzi on himself - because he is a drama queen ETHAN Tommy voice "hello pa pa. I have hired two new staff, pa pa." "Huh?" "they have found work in this palace as emotional support animals, pa pa." "....ok." tommy voice "he didn't even blink, elizabeth the fourteenth" END OF ETHAN MAKING FUN OF THE BRITISH

By the way just to clear things up with you all, Tommy addresses Phil as "Father"

most of the paparazzi's pictures of Tommy are him flipping the camera off

He poses for them

just sees a camera and fucking sticks his tongue out and flips them off

He’s wearing some atrocious outfit while walking his dogs and he just has a full on fashion photshoot of poses for them

If his dad won’t give him attention at least they will

Tommy befriends some of the staff

he hates a lot of the butlers tbh

thinks they're stuck up

but likes to gossip with the maids, and sit in the kitchen as the chefs cook lunch "Heyyyy, chef!" "Your highness, what is it, are you hungry?" "Can't a man just talk to his chef? Befriend his castle staff?" "Ah."

that and the kitchen gives betty and walter treats

Top ten Prince Thomas microaggressions

Number One: he calls Phil "your highness"

For context, kings are referred to as Your Majesty

He calls Wilbur Your Majesty

It was a joke when they were younger, a habit from then on, but now it’s to spite Phil

Tommy spends an ridiculous amount of money on clothes all at once, purely to see if Phil would yell at him for using the family debit card for it

He never wears the clothes

He doesn’t particularly like any of them anyways

Instead he donate them all anonymously

Tommy may be a brat but he isn’t wasteful

By the time Tommy’s 12 he’s started acting up, and it escalates slowly until he hits 15 where things just start snowballing and he gets worse and worse

he's definitely nicknamed by the press as some sort of party animal or fratboy

a spoiled brat

He’s 16, and he knows his place in the family, he is forgotten and glossed over, but he won’t be ignored, not if he can help it

The Public gives him the attention he wishes his father would give him, he walks his dogs with the paparazzi tailing after him, just hoping that maybe one scandal or one horrible picture will eventually be enough to make his dad actually See him

he'll tell the paparazzi what they want to hear

and give every magazine a story to tell

they notice him

he just wants somebody to tell him no, somebody tell this boy no without being paid to please

Tommy probably has like, pierced his ears or smth. Gotten tattoos.

he has holes in his face yes.

he pierced his ears and his nose

He has a tattoo on the inside of his finger that matches with Tubbo and Ranboo

Maybe the picture of him plastered from last weekend will make his dad reprimand him

Maybe the weed found in his backseat will get his Dad to ground him

Maybe the bottle of fucking pills he was “holding for a friend” but got caught with Will get some sort of reaction

and its not like he's only doing it for attention

he starts it for attention, but he loves it he does

he has fun, he loves his friends, he likes the parties and the air

but, he also loves the attention, he's not gonna lie

Tommy who took adderall at a party once but it didn’t do anything for him, he seemed to function a little better actually

Tommy who knows Techno has adhd and takes adderall for it, Tommy who puts two and two together Bc he’s not fucking dumb

Tommy realizing his dad never cared to even get him diagnosed or treated

and Techno does notice, he does figure it out, but he does either a "hey..." or a "m8 I'll just get you your own if its helpin you focus" and tommy is furious

Tommy's life here is just

'trying to be yelled at HARD MODE'

Just wants to be screamed at, lowkey

I think, Wilbur avoids the tabloids

And the press

And the news

However, his advisors often read him the shit about Tommy - or anything about him

But they never see the pictures

They don’t see the picture of Tommy drunk on a strangers balcony

They don't see how bad it is

Tommy however? LOVES reading what the press has to say about him

Phil sees it however,

And he’s so disappointed

He gives Tommy so many talks but it never works

Because it doesn’t get him to love Tommy, to care about what Tommy does

Not like their mother

And he never makes a scene, not in the way Tommy wants to

It's all about "YOUR RUINING OUR IMAGE"

not: "YOUR RUINING YOUR LIFE"

He never asks if Tommy is ok

He never asks if he’s safe

Tommy's mum however, SO MANY AWKWARD "STAY SAFE" TALKS

He doesn't just fucking jump off shit because of her, he's slightly less reckless so that he can come home alive to her

I just think that Wilbur, no matter how busy, would find time to concerned yell at his baby brother if he were to find out about the pills

Weed and alcohol? Not great but ok.

Pills though?? He is full blown concerned Wilbro there

His brothers care. Their father is busy. He's a jerk sometimes too.

Wilbur does put out the fire a bit

He’s glad Wilbur had his best interest in mind

But man

The news headlines

They do him dirty

Shit like “Prince Tommy Caught Doing Cocaine at Frat Party” really fuck him over

They really just try their best to make him look like shit 95% of the time

Tommy loves it, just a little

Bad press is still press

He laughs at the headline Bc he knows he wasn’t doing cocaine, but Phil doesn’t, wilbur and techno don’t know that

It’s a tense week after that headline is released

His mom doesn’t even know if Tommy would have actually done cocaine

They just don’t know

Kristin asks him

She’s the only one who believes him

I think Wilbur wants to believe him, Techno too

But it’s hard to, especially when you’re not even sure you know your own brother anymore

Wilbur says something along the lines of being disappointed in Tommy, if he thought Tommy was trying to be better

Tommy scoffs and says he is trying, but that it’s real rich of Wilbur to be or entering to care now

This isn’t even the worse headline

One time a blonde kid got picked up from the same party Tommy was at on a stretcher, he had had an allergic reaction

Some shitty journalist saw and automatically assumed it was Tommy

They ran with the story that the prince had fucking overdosed for at least a week

The things they say are close to the truth but not quite

The PR Team tries their best to help but

They don’t even know what’s true or not

Tommy goes on a bender for a week, and walks into their office with coffee and pastries to apologize

They all know that presents mean a rough week of damage control

But Tommy imports them these Bomb ass donuts so

Fair trade really

Also heaven forbid tommy gets seen with a girl

It’s the worst shit

Tommy gets caught, drunk off his ass, pushing a couch out a window

(To be fair the people were moving soon anyways, they didn’t need the couch, it was a going away party)

And the next morning, recalling what he did

He orders up those pastries and calls the coffee place

Swings by to pick up the coffee and picks up the pastries all within the next two hours and delivers them on the third with an apology note

It’s fucking DAMAGE control

Thinking about Tubbo and Ranboo being Tommy’s DDs when they can

They are

When Tommy’s handler isn’t around

Them doing wild shit together but not Wild Shit

Tommy teaches them how to do burnouts and donuts in a fucking lambos in an empty mall parking lot

Ranboo goes everywhere incognito, Tommy practically flaunts his rank, Tubbo is considered a nobody and doesn't have to do anything but show up in casual clothes. He has a uniform for stablework.

Ranboo's parents are approving of his friendship with the fledging prince, as they hope he can wrangle Tommy to regality and he's building positive relations between the two kingdoms.

Phil is disapproving, worried Tommy will taint Ranboo and his rep and cause a tense air between the two kingdoms. Tommy loves Phil's worry, he practically bathes in it, it's the attention he so craves.

Tommy definitely will hold Tubbo's hand when he walks with him, because the headlines all scream Tommy is the gay?? and while he's very incredibly straight, he finds this hysterical.

Ranboo isn't always in Tommy's kingdom and rather spends most of his time at home. He might be second to heir or the crown prince himself, but he does have to spend time in his own country. Tommy face calls him a lot and he and Tubbo are ecstatic when he announces he's going to visit

I imagine he's second to the throne because that means he can focus on building relations instead of training to be king.

Older sibling Fundy, gets chronic illness, and Ranboo has to take over the throne for a bit

One of Tommy's worst stunts was hitching a ride to the Americas/Ranboo's kingdom without telling anyone.

Whether by boat or plane, he was gonna go visit his young king friend no matter what.

I say "young king" but he's still a prince. Just filling in for fundy

But all eyes turn to Ranboo and Ranboo is stumbling with attention he'd never known. Tommy has to help, doesn't he?

He expects such a punishment for stowing away to visit, but the headlines are... positive. Prince Tommy's friendship with Princr Ranboo becomes.... legendary, practically. Tubbo is always excluded from the news, even when he comes with.

Never too fantastical for classism

But no, the headlines see Tommy's visit not as the young, rebellious prince stowing away, but as a young boy risking his skin to visit his stressed friend.

Tommy is appalled.

And Tommy just groans and shows him the phone

And Ranboo laughs and goes

“There there Tommy, I’m sure dragging me to a frat party will be enough to ruin the good press.”

“Maybe get a dui, you’ll have diplomatic immunity so no jail time?”

“Boo, I wouldn’t get jail time even if I wasn’t em-mune, I am simply too poggers.”

“Sure man, let’s go with that.”

Tommy’s like “maybe I need to actually start doing hard drugs”

Ranboos just like “no -“ just “Please god no, your brothers will kill both of us.”

The Boo is terrified of Techno and Wilbur

Not as royals though, simply as Tommy’s older brothers

Like he knows about Tommy’s issues with validation and feeling unloved, he knows his Brothers are often very busy

But he also sees the way they look at Tommy, and the way they look when people talk bad about Tommy

He knows if something were to happen and he was to cause harm to Tommy or cause Tommy to cause harm to himself

It probably wouldn’t end well for him

Wilbur and techno try as hard as they can

But they’re SO busy

That they can’t do much especially when Tommy’s so persistent on doing his shit

Tubbo is great with the horses he tends to, and Tommy adores them. Ranboo is an excellent, regal rider and Tommy and Tubbo are more rough and ballsy, so races are fair and fastpaced.

Ranboo once got bucked by a royal stallion and Tommy and Tubbo never let him live it down.

I imagine Tubbo lives on the property, as some servants do. He either doesn't have a family, has a bad one, or his family doesn't live close to the palace.

So Tommy 10/10 sneaks to the servants' quarters and he and Tubbo sneak out to ride the horses.

I feel like Wilbur makes more of an effort after the pills and cocaine incident, he tries to ask Tommy about the headlines

Purples is Tommy’s friend

Rich family, old money

Throws a lot of the parties Tommy goes to

Purpled and punz :handshake: Tommy

Frat Boys

I think you guys are underestimating the time that Tommy spends at the castle

Like he still has school, and usually 3 days out of the week he follows around his brothers like an endearing little shit

But those 4 days where he’s gone (which includes weekends) plus nights, he’s doing shit

Also, yiu know Pongo right

101 Dalmatians

That’s how Tommy walks Betty and Walter

They are like standing completely proper and walks straight

ah yes, the royal bitches and also betty and walter are there too

the paparazzi taking pictures of Tommy and the dogs

and Tommy turns, taking his sunglasses off, and smiles big and wide "They have names you know? You should stop callin' them 'the royal dogs'."

One of the guys, he's familiar with the prince turns on his camera and asks "what're their names Prince Tommy?"

"Betty and Walter. Give them some respect."

Tommy visits Ranboo sometimes. Ranboo was looking for him one day and just found him standing in a long hall, staring at a portrait.

It's Ranboo, just barely younger, hands folded behind his back, the perfect picture of regality.

Tommy is staring at it because he knows that at home, there is a portrait of Wilbur looking like that, and one of Techno, and one of Phil and Kristen, and one of himself.

But somehow this image of Ranboo is.. haunting

Not because it doesn't match with the Ranboo he knows, but because it does.

It haunts him because he can stare at his portrait for hours and never see himself, but this is so plainly Ranboo that it's chilling.

Ranboo stands beside him, hands folded behind his back as they always are when he is in nice clothes and his eyes are visible. Tommy glances over and Ranboo is facing him, but staring up at the picture. It's still him.

The clothes are different and his hair is longer now, but Tommy can't tell the difference past that.

He knows that Ranboo is what his family wants him to be

He knows that Ranboo is him if he hadn't strayed, the same past

Ranboo knows exactly what’s going through his head right now

And he knows exactly what he needs too

They get fucking piss ass drunk in Ranboo’s room order takeout and FaceTime Tubbo

They can party tomorrow, Tommy doesn’t need to be in public right now

ANywyas

Tommy and his mother have a wonderful relationship

she teaches him literacy and history, they have a tutor teach him maths

they eat breakfast together every morning

the whole family does

but his mum tries to eat lunch with him at least 3 times a week

he goes out for lunch the days he doesn't eat with his brothers or mom, out to some resturant, sometimes, they trash it or party, sometimes he just brings Tubbo, no big group, and they just chill

With Ranboo in line for kingship (the way royalty works is that if the ruler dies, it will always go to the next in line of blood, never by marriage. Even if every heir was dead, it would still not go to the ruler consort but instead to a family member of the late ruler), rep is so much more important

he can't really be seen with Tommy sometimes

not on the bad weeks

not when Tommy just destroyed a bnb or set off fireworks with his friends, or was caught throwing chairs into his friend's pool

Tommy likes sport cars

big car guys

He has an exorbitant amount of fancy cars

its truly like

disgusting

how many cars he owns

Wilbur makes fun of it Bc the kid is just now legally old to drive

But Wilbur has so many expensive instruments

Some of which he doesn’t even know how to play yet

to be fair

Wilbur doesnt go breaking his instraments

Techno, techno has swords, which makes sense Bc he’s a general

But the amount swords he has just hanging on his wall

Never meant to be used

It’s so many

I feel like Tommy has a few cars that he doesn’t even let get scratched tho much

His babies

he has his expensive cars that he wrecks

and then his expensive cars that he treats like gold

They’re named

Clementine is this horrendous orange car that he absolutely loves

Its a bright orange ferrari

(He loves it Bc it was a gift from Phil, one of the first cars in his collection)

(Tommy doesn’t know that the idea was his mother’s, his father didn’t know what to get him)

all of his cars have padding in the back for his dogs

Tommy hates purse dogs, the girls with them are always fake and horrible

but he wishes his dogs were that small

Easy to transport

but they got all gangly limbs like him

and stand up to his hip

Henry is his sleek black classic mustang convertable

its what he drives when he doesn't want to be followed by the papp

It’s what he drives when he takes The BT to lunch

its not that the paparazzi doesn't know its him

they know

but he's not in one of his bright fucking obscene cars

The press and Tommy have a weird sort of understanding

He creates their headlines and they let him have moments to himself

If someone breaches that

They risk getting blacklisted

that car was what he drove to his grandmother's funeral in

im not naming his grandmother, but all royals live like forever

Clementine barely sees the road I think

She’s kept in top condition

By Tommy’s own hands

But she probably doesn’t get driven to the parties

Or the brunches

Or the clubs

She's used pretty much exclusively for black tie events

Tubbo is his driver for those Bc he trusts no one else with the car

And he has to exit her before she’s parked

So Tubbo valets and then meets him inside

It’s also how Tubbo gets into the black tie events

so its modern right

so its like thousand-dollar suits instead of capes

so, Tommy just refuses to wear blazers and suit jackets

he always wears his button-ups rolled to his elbows

Maybe, maybe you’ll get him in a vest

But most of the time it’s a button up, rolled up sleeves, and the tie is most likely incorrect or untied

The only reason it’s correct half the time, is because Wilbur makes him let him tie it

Tommy won't wear the jacket because he prefers to roll his sleeves up - he's able to do anything, party or just like rough housing with his brothers, or helping out the staff

Wilbur won't wear a tie, or a button up most days, opting for a high-end sweater and loads of jewelry; its just much more his style.

Techno won't wear a vest because it restricts the places he can hid weapons, and he almost never keeps his tie tied.

Tommy trying to walk past Wilbur to leave with and untied tie

“Wait! You know you can’t leave like that, come here.”

Tommy’s groans and slumps over but walks over to Wil anyways

“I’m just gonna untie it halfway through the party, you know i will.”

“Well, I’m not letting my little brother walk a red carpet with an untied tie, you know I won’t”

The second half said in a mocking tone of voice, very clearly mimicking Tommy’s whining

It’s a soft moment, they stand there together, brothers

And as Wilbur’s pat the finished tie, they make eye contact and both of them have undeniably fond looks on their faces, damn they’re brothers n shit

“Thanks Wil.”

It’s quiet, it’s soft, it’s Tommy

“Of course.”

Just as soft, just as quiet, wholly Wilbur

Wilbur clears his throat breaking the soft atmosphere of the room

“Now go, you gremlin. Don’t be late”

Wilbur ruffles Tommy’s hair, careful not to mess it up too much

Tommy rolls his eyes And quickly heads for the door “Bye Wil! Love you! Don’t wait up!” Wilbur quickly yells after him

“Love you too! Don’t do anything stupid!”

“Oh Wil you know I can’t promise that!” Wilbur just rolls his eyes and returns to his book

Yeah Tommy stays away from tobacco I think

Just weed

and I wouldn't be surprised if like hits peoples vapes sometimes, but doesn't smoke cigs

for sure, its stressful

Wilbur smokes cigarettes though

and he can't act out like Tommy can

and Phil loves him..

Techno and Wilbur watching Tommy rebel in the ways they never got to

They feel kinda sad, that they never got to be kids like that, sad that Tommy feels like he has to act out for attention

he gets to do shit

like he gets to be a real teen

the whole, dumb rich 17 year old experience

like yachts, and expensive hotel rooms, and sport cars

And sure they probably wouldn’t have been going to frat parties or crashing brunch places, but they see him with BT

See him have actual friends

And they’re happy for him

But it hurts a bit

And Tommy's hurting too

It's a lot

but its like

even if Phil wasn't shit

its a lot of attention

like everyone is watching them at all times

Techno and Wilbur have to stay refined in the eyes of the press

Tommy gets to put on a show for them

Yeah yeah

Do you know how much a drunk picture of Prince Tommy is worth?

Too much

Some random guy on his first paparazzi job, gets a pic of Tommy, shirt mostly unbuttoned, tie tied around his head, drinking out of a beer bottle, and flipping off the camera while stumbling out of the most expensive hotel in the UK

The guy never has to work again

Purpled son of some billionaire, and Ranboo a literal prince is with him

They are both laughing at him

Tommy swung on a chandelier that night

A picture of that ends up online, some socialites Twitter

The amount of people in her dms for that picture?

Ludicrous

Like just the random pictures from Snapchat stories

Magazines pay thousands

Yeah the amount of double takes people have done going through their friends Snapchat stories like

Just tapping through

“WAIT WAS THAT PRINCE THOMAS????”

So, Dessert Drinks

It’s alcoholic beverages that have like chocolate or gram crackers or maybe candy in them

That are meant to taste like a dessert

So there’s chocolate cake margaritas, or like s’mores drinks

They’re Tommy’s favorite things in the world

Everyone thinks that he’d like the like strong, burning, whiskey esk stuff

But no

He wants the sweetest thing you got

Like he’ll drink straught vodka, but not if he doesn’t have too y’know?

He also like wine strangely enough

The like really expensive wine

Bc it reminds him of Wil

They have it down in the cellar

Techno is the whiskey dude

Or like 1942

Which is just a really bougie tequila

He just likes the shit that burns

Tubbo will drink literally anything

He’ll eat anything too

It definitely comes from the spot that he didn’t have that many choices like Tommy, but he genuinely just likes anything

Which is why Tommy really likes to treat him out to fancy fucking restaurants

One of Tommy’s favorite past times is spoiling his loved one

Fucking loves giving presents n shit

It's his love language

Ranboo doesn’t pay for anything when he’s visiting

Tommy insists on paying

Tommy has millions from the throne, he will use it

Plus he uses his daddy’s card so like, Phil can afford to spend the money

Oh he has one of those black cards doesn’t he

And by he I mean Phil

But you know, Daddy’s card

Black amex all the way

Boujie motherfuckers

Tommy's drunk like persona is different depending on the environment

When its Wilbur and Techno having to deal with Drunk Tommy

He’s like an excitable puppy, he would switch from rowdy to sappy real quick for his brothers

So they’re trying to get a drunk Tommy to bed but Tommy’s 100% clinging to them

Just full of affection

Techno tries to leave to go study and drunk Tommy just looks so fucking sad

Kicked puppy

He’s very much turning on the little brother charm, full scale pouting, whining, nicknames and all

making grabby hands, sitting on thr ground, fluffed up hair, shirt all wrinkled

"Fucking - fine. What are you gonna do without me, hm?"

He’s a god damned puppy and it’s hard to believe this is the same kid who got in a bar fight last week

he hangs off the chandeliers of boogie hotels

he also trashes his friend's rentals

on the other hand, he hugs his brothers

and steals Wilbur's crown

when he wears Will's crown it goes over his eyes

Still does after all these years

He’s grown but Wils head is simply too big

Tommy has his own crown of course

he just doesn't wear it as often as Wilbru does

Wilbur wears his all of the time

Tommy wears his when

A. he's drunk and with friends

B. at formal or royal events

he likes wearing it when he's partying

still thinking about drunk Tommy and his brothers having to deal with him

He makes techno give him a piggy back ride

He can walk fine, he just wants a piggy back ride man

Can you blame him?

They all really miss being little

They miss being able to be kids n shit

when their mother took care of them

and their father did all the king shit

And when Techno would give Tommy piggyback rides in the garden

When Wilbur had all the time in the world to learn how to play guitar

Even if it comes from Tommy getting drunk off his ass they’re glad they can still find the childish joy that they once had y’know?

Techno gives Tommy a piggy back ride to his room, and Tommy steals Wilbur’s crown and they talk and it’s nice

And as everything winds down Wilbur plays his guitar

And it’s so similar to when they were younger man

...

but then,,, Wilbur gets called down for an emergency meeting

and Techno has to make sure the guards are doing their rounds

and Tommy's left all alone in The Prince's Chambers

and people wonder why Tommy likes partying

fills the time, doesn't it?

He wakes up cold and alone and hungover

And he calls Tubbo and they just fucking day drink man

It’s a bad two days

Yeha but basically after this night he and Tubbo get fucking drunk as hell and they don’t come back to the castle for two days

And Tommy is barely sober during those two days

After those type of days happen Tommy always goes completely straightedge for a week

He doenst need to develop an addiction y’know?

Plus the chaos doesn’t have to happen drunk

He’s pretty irrational sober anywyas

half of the parties he's at he's not even drunk

sometimes he'll get high

but he just likes the adrenaline

and just hanging and being fucking assholes with his mates

POV you are an emotionally wrecked prince who is hanging onto this present as proof that your dad knows who you are at least in the slightest and you find out it’s not actually a gift from him but something your mother told him to get you

He didn’t even think twice just called the dealership and asked for the car, didn’t even know which one it was

mmmmm Tommy wrecks Clem that night

It’s not a good night for anyone

Got drunk as hell man

No dd

Car crash

I don’t think Clem is totaled

And Tommy is ok

But she’s scratched and dented and it’s just a representation of how Tommy feels

Something about Clementine being symbolic of hope and the idea that his father knew him

And with that crashing down

Clementine was bound to crash too

Tommy gets out with some bruises and Clementine can be fixed

But it happens on a public street so it’s everywhere

Tommy wrecks Clem

Then fucking goes on a bender

just destroys shit

parties so he doesn't think about it

and then he fucking crashes

Wilbur and Techno and Kristin all know what the car meant to him, what it symbolized to him

So when there’s a headline and a picture of Tommy staring at a wrecked Clem, they don’t know how to feel

maybe he mentioned something about upgrading Clem to Phil, or offhandedly at family dinner

And Phil asks something like “Right and when did you get this one?” Very rudely y’know

And Tommy’s like, it’s the one you got me for my birthday last year, and Phil just says something about how he has to be more specific because he doesn’t even know which one that is

And Tommy feels everything crumble around him and he just tensely says, “never mind...” and goes back to his food

The other three watch the whole exchange like, “fuuuuuuuuuck”

And then as soon as dinners over Tommy’s out the door man

He’s gone

he doesn't take the dogs, which means he's causing damage

He doenst even take Tubbo

they can hear the handler hand Tommy the keys

Tubbo comes to Wil to ask if he knew where Tommy was and that’s when they realize Tommy’s going out to cause real damage

And Tommy’s phone is turned off

They can’t contact him

Tommy gets handcuffed

he won't get arrested, but he'll get brought back in a police car

he fucking like crashed into a poll on purpose

like it was less on purpose and more like he definitely wasn’t not trying to hit something

And then they fucking breathalyzer him and he’s drunk as balls

Straight vodka type night

there's a bottle in the cupholder

He gets out when he wrecks and you just see him dead eyed staring at the scratches on her hood

The dent in her door

The cracks in the windshield

And he just takes a swig of the bottle

He lets the police take the bottle and handcuff him, taking him back to the palace

Clem is towed back too

He doenst care man

this is bigger than party to distract Bc it’s all he’s thinking about even drunk n shit

So I feel like he’s absolutely crushed

he spends like a week or two in a depressive episode won't leave his room, won't talk to his dad

and then he asks his mom "why didn't you tell me?"

and she just purses her lips and and shakes her head

and he's out

he needs to leave

he doesn't need her pity

and he just goes to Purp's and parties

because he just wants to have fun for one night before he learns that everything is a lie

His brothers are there as much as he lets them be

Tubbo too

Ranboo would try to make it over after seeing the headlines

he gets on a jet

and goes as soon as he sees the news

cause Clem was Tommy's baby

He loved that fucking car man

And then

Boom

One dinner is all it took to ruin everything

Phil's just left like "what'd I do?"

Techno is straight faced

Wilbur rolls his eyes at Phil

And Kristin just looks stressed

She’s still staring the the door Tommy all but ran out of

none of them finish dinner, Kristin waves the butlers over to clear the plates

They don’t, and Phil is just so confused and frustrated and he doesn’t know what happened

Top 10 Prince Tommy Headlines: 10. Mourning or Disrespectful: Prince Thomas caught smoking outside grandmother's funeral 9. New Connections? Prince Thomas and Prince Ranboo seen outside Palace walking Royal Dogs 8. Protective Older Brother; Crown Prince William shielding Prince Thomas from cameras while walking down London streets 7. When Will He Stop? Prince Thomas continues his week-long bender 6. Another Frat Party: Prince Thomas found stumbling drunk after rowdy night at The Ritz London 5. Boy Crazy? Prince Thomas and Mystery Boy seen dancing at Crown Prince William's Birthday Ball 4. Is Prince Thomas's Rampage Over? The Prince seen hungover, nursing a coffee at London Branch Costa Coffee 3. Time to stop; Prince Thomas caught doing cocaine at socialites party 2. A good friend - Prince Thomas flew to the United States to help Prince Ranboo with new responsibilities

1. When is enough, enough? Prince Thomas crashes after driving drunk, arrested.

10 Tommy doesn’t smoke cigs so mans was just getting high at his grandmas funeral

he was real close with his granny, it was a sad day

It was because his father said something like “oh, I didn’t know you were coming Tommy”

It was his fucking grandmother Phil

Tommy just puts his sun glasses on, and sits as far away as he can

Number 5, the boy is Tubbo, Tubbo thinks it’s fucking hilarious, Tommy is pissed

Some of those headlines seem like they’re from the car month

Obviously number one is

But then the bender headline

Then the coffee one

And then the Wilbur one

They seem like a series of events

big month for the press

Tommys hungover and he calls Wil asking for him to pick him up

And Wilbur drops everything Bc he’s just glad Tommy’s coming back home

wilbur fucking glares at the cameras

Tommy's used to it

And then the press tries to mob them and Wilbur Almost breaks decorum

Like almost fucking yells at someone who gets too close

and Wilbur never does that

he's so in-line

he never breaks the rules

but goddamn if they take one step closer -

He’s been especially stressed, and all he wants is to get his baby brother home man

He’s been smoking a lot more since the wreck

He just wishes he could make everything better

Tommy relishes in talking to the press

Wilbur will clart someone who gets to close to his baby brother

The press who’s never seen Wilbur as anything other than composed and charming suddenly being faced with a very angry older brother who smells slightly like cigarette smoke

Wilbur in the Pogtopia coat but it’s some designer piece that’s expensive as hell

It’s his smoking coat

And it’s what he picks Tommy up in

So he smells like smoke

And not the tasteful cologne he usually wears in public

just like a dark overcoat

really expensive wool

Wilbur using it to cover them from the cameras

when they were younger, like 16 and 12, Wilbur would hide Tommy

like no one got a picture of Tommy until he was 14 or 15

Kristin really hid the boys when they were kids too

Tommy trying to peak out and make faces at the camera

it was illegal to get pictures of them younger than 10

like immediate blacklist

And also maybe some legal issues

Wilbur pulls Tommy's hood up over Tommy's head

And it’s very older brother of him too, he pulls it over to protect his face but then cinches the strings to be a little shit

Those Wilbur and Tommy brother moments comps exists in the universe too

But it’s just shit like that

Tommy has a great support system

He really does

His brothers love him

His mom loves him

He has two amazing friends and a bunch of other great friends as well

And sometimes he feels like a brat for throwing all these fits over his dad y’know?

Wilbur always tries to like, keep an arm around him when they're doing red carpets

And keeps Tommy sitting next to him at Royal events

but also like, steals food off his plate

and ruffles his hair

Tommy whispers the fucking worst jokes about the dignitaries and nobles and Wilbur has to keep a straight face

god thats tommys favorite thing to do

he tries so hard to get Wilbur to laugh and lose his shit

The fucking big boobs bit

But it’s Tommy whispering it to Wilbur completely out of context and randomly at a gala

ALSO

THE WHOLE EXTENDED FAMILY BULLSHIT

TOMMY HATES IT

LIKE WHO THE FUCK IS THIS LIKE AUNT TO HIM?

HE DOESNT KNOW HER

But Royal Families are always big on that shiit

They try to hug him n shit

And Tommy depending on how Brave n shit he’s feeling (how fed up he is) will either politely excuse himself or straight up say no and step back with a glare

he's honestly uncomfortable around the strangers

who say they're family

like he's too sober for this

He needs a god damned drink

But he’s in a vest and a nice tie and his crown is sat proper on his head

And he can’t have a drink

god he's like a little doll, he plays by Phil's rules

the crown comes on and he's the proper prince

He fucking hates it

he sips on Wilbur's wine, and does the whole "tequila for water" thing sometimes

Flask in his sleeve

Techno catches him with the flask once and is just impressed

god is that a look on Techno's face

He sees Tommy slip it from his sleeve and somehow sleight off hand take a drink

And it’s just a raised eyebrow and a head nod that says

Good for you

Bc techno also needs a drink during these events

Sometimes Tommy will spike his and Techno's drinks

as Wilbur regally sips on wine

Wilbur fucking also secretly wishing he had a flask during the drier events

Wine drink just isn’t enough sometimes

Wilbur puts on his best face

and pretends he wants to be there

and gives out a warm smile, and raises a glass

god he fucking hates it sometimes

and sometimes he loves it

but man, does he hate it sometimes

Tommy complains and Phil makes a passive aggressive comment about how

“Oh but don’t you love parties Tommy.”

Wilbur sits between them

The table goes

Techno Kristin Phil Wilbur Tommy

Tommy just sneaks another sip of the flask

he doesn't have time to deal with his dads shit

Slumps back in the seat

He probably wouldn’t even try to hide it after that

Not like Phil is actually looking at him

He can let the press have it

He doenst care

just like leaves the flask next to him

under teh table

and jsut takes large swigs from it

Tommy maybe having a group of his friends crash one of the stuffy events

Not an important one

So fucking dedication ceremony to some inane building

He just invites a wild group of socialites

It’s nice

It’s not as wild as a normal Tommy Innit party

But it’s not a stuffy fucking boring ass royal meeting

they just bring some fucking whiskey into the back room and chat shit

Tommy fucking has a group of friends crash this gathering

It’s not wild

But it’s not stuffy

It’s nice

Tommy even drags Wilbur back for at least a little

and that takes a whole lot of work

It really does, Wilbur isn’t even a little tipsy off the wine, and Phil been by him the whole time and it’s just been hell, he can’t get wiobur away from the “socializing” hes doing

but when Wilbur is a bit tipsy he just becomes more charasmatic

truly a king

Less someone putting on a mask for their father

A little bit more authentic

he's a natural, sipping wine with one hand, and shaking hands with the other, crown propped beautifully on his head, million dollar suits hanging off his frame

It’s nice to see his brother in his element

its a bit sad

but its nice

A little yeah, Wilbur’s

Wilbur’s leaving him, not really but

Wilbur being king is-

It’s going to be hard

Different

More than it is already

Wilbur will always love him

But eventually he’ll be too busy for Tommy

Just like Phil is

And it hurts

But that thought is what makes Tommy take a drink of his flask and drag Wilbur to the back room

Wilbur doesn’t have to forget him yet

Tommy looks real regal too

Wilbur wishes that Tommy could see what he sees

But he knows that Tommy’s self worth issues would take more than a nice hug and some warm words to fix

Tommy looks regal, and the gold crown really fits with the whole golden boy aesthetic

and he laughs, and makes conversation with everyome

and everyone eases up around him

Wilbur wishes that Tommy saw what he sees

also

Tommy and Ranboo's texts have been leaked once

Wow so many dog pictures dude

but also

:sparkles:state secrets:sparkles:

That was hell to clean up

it fucking was

it used petnames (which the public is never supposed to know about the nickanmes of royals fun fact)

and said shit about Phil

and detailed Fundy's illness which isn't public

and talked about meetings that Wilbur forced Tommy to attend

Tommy was terrified

Ranboo too

He was so scared someone would be angry at him for it

He doesn’t think he could handle be yelled at for this thing that wasn’t even his fault

like of course he could've not said it over text

but one of his best friends lives an ocean away

and his life is just all about secrets

dont make this something too

:sparkles: hackers :sparkles:

if someone god a hold of Tommy's IP, or Phone, or Phone number

dms

they could be using instagram, twitter, or snapchat to have some of these converstaions

dms can get leaked real easily

Mmmm you ever think about Crime Bous

Because all I can think about is when Wilbur does get out of the house, and just like every event they go to

Tommy isn’t a fucking party boy then, he’s just Prince Thomas, Crown Prince William’s baby brother

And they always get photographed and shit

But they have a great time

They’re always smiling when they’re together

Sans Wilbur being a really protective older brother, and when their grandmother died

It’s nice to just go get lunch together at that one specific cafe they’ve been going to for years

Or just walk the dogs together

Just hang out and be brothers

They sit at the same table every time, and Tommy has gotten a Raspberry Lemonade since he was 8

When they walk the dogs, Wilbur holds Walter and Tommy holds Betty

Sunglasses on, big wool overcoats, and pants that were sewn just for them

And they’re seen walking out on the streets during big events a lot too

To like take a breather

Tommy has made a habit of allowing the press to ask him questions whenever they find him

Wilbur on the other hand always knows exactly what to say to press that come up to them

He always shoos them off with a polite “we won’t be answering any question right now thank you” and a blinding smile

And Tommy’s making a face at the press from over his shoulder

Either like sticking his tongue out or making some sort of face at Wilbur

As he gets older, he stops doing it as much because it gets a bit tiring, everything is tiring

But he does it every once in a while, usually a sharp grin over Wilbur’s shoulder accompanied by a middle finger

when like press sees that Wilbur smokes like a lot

big thin

and I feel like Wilbur would straight up be like "its not a big deal, its completely legal"

and hes like smoking 8 cigs a day, but its fine

He doesn’t have an issue

It’s just a little stress relief

King at 21 is a lot to handle

and maybe the stress is so much that it becomes a problem

but hey its his relief

its legal

he's fine

That’s Wilbur’s mantra most of the time

he falls asleep in Tommys bed a lot, waiting for the teen to come home

wilbur does

he finishes a pack, and sighs, rubbing his eyes

The empire is on the brink of war, it always is

He looks in Tommy's room, its empty

And he sits on the bed, waiting

10 minutes later he's asleep

The sheets don’t smell like Wilbur, and Wil thinks that’s what makes it’s so comforting

They don’t stink of nicotine or Wilbur cologne

The smell like Tommy

and while that smell like expensive booze, and coconut shampoo

its perfect

and the dogs are in Tommy's room too

he's a little less alone

Betty is the cuddler

She’ll come up and sleep next to Wil

but she wont do it to just anyone

its a bond, its trust

its the fact that Tommy likes Wilbur

she growls at Phil

she nudges at Kristin, LOVES kristin

anyways

its lonely and sad

because Tommy usually doesnt come back

Tommy snakes back in early in the morning and tucks Wilbur in

Though most times Wilbur falls asleep in Tommys bed

Uncovered

Completely dressed

He’s lucky bettys fur is sleek otherwise his very expensive clothes would be covered

I think Wilbur more often then not will wake up with Tommy in his arms, and that makes him very happy

like, Tommy comes it at 5am, and just snuggles next to Wilbur

It’s makes Tommy sad to know his brother is waiting up for him to never come

But at the same time he’s always so happy to see him when he gets home

I imagine sometimes butlers come to get Wilbur for work, and Tommy makes them leave so that Wilbur can sleep in "Hello your highness, we came to fetch King Wilbur for his morning briefing" "He's sleeping." "Well, I can see that Your Highness -" "So let him sleep." "Prince Thomas -" "Let. Him. Sleep. Okay?" "Yes, Your Highness."

I've decided that Tommy is the big spoon

in these vulranable moments, when Wilbur is weak, Tommy kind of holds him

like obviously there are a lot of tims, where Wilbur wants to hold his baby brother

however, Tommy kind of holds Wilbur, like wraps himself around Wilbur, and puts Wilbur's head in the crook of his neck

this happens when Tommy comes home to find Wilbur in his bed

either this, or Tommy curls into a ball and rests his head against wilburs chest

Tommy has daddy issues

Wilbur has the weiht of the world

Techno has ptsd

Phil: fuck you my kids are completely fine!

Wilbur’s nicotine addiction

Tommys abandonment issues

Technos fucking PTSD

Once, when the empires war was getting really, really bad, and Wilbur had to decide life or death shit

He smoked a whole pack in a day

And then just kept going

His hands wouldn’t stop shaking

why wouldn't they stop fucking shaking

Tommy stopped partying that week, he isn’t ignorant, nor a fucking dick

He was Wilbur’s right hand for as long as he needed him

Despite how badly he wanted to party until he could see straight

His brother needed him

His king needed him

And he will gladly serve Wilbur as long as he would have him

He stood right behind Wilbur

Every decision

He was right behind him

Even if it meant constant decorum and constant royal dress, Tommy was there

And that was a grounding fact

If Tommy hadn’t been there Wilbur thinks he may have lost it that week

Sometimes the only thing that kept Wilbur’s hands from shaking terribly was holding Tommy’s hands

When the advisors and court had left

Tommy would take Wilbur hands and make him do breathing exercises

Wilbur wasn’t allowed to look anywhere other than Tommy’s eyes

They would get through this

Together

They would, Tommy would make sure of it

Tommy in the room also made everyone a bit nervous and loosen up around Wilbur though

Because sometimes they act like they can boss Will around

And Tommy is stone faced, and has the media wrapped around his finger

The court knows that all it would take is one “scandalous statement” from Prince Thomas to end their careers

Wilbur could fire them, but he’s stressed

Any other day, he’s a fucking FORCE to recon with

But Tommy? He’s here to ensure the best or their careers would end

And you know that Tommy has at least 3 sources in the biggest news outlets in the empire

He could get ANYTHING out there

Wilbur’s throne is the biggest in the middle

Two thrones smaller aside him

Within the like office / study / planning room

Tommy's hasn't been used until just then

Tommy finds it quite uncomfy

But he can deal

Also Tommy drops the nicknames for the week or so

No “Big Man”

It was “Will” and “William”

Your Majesty at one or two points

But that felt a little too formal for both of them

Too alienating

Tommy learned a whole fucking lot of fucking politics that week

Not that he didnt listen in his lessons it’s just that

Well

He can’t not listen if he’s not there

It’s different IRL too

Seeing all the decisions

It’s terrifying

And he’s exhausted

Dressing nicely and talking for 12 hours a day about politics

And life / death decisions

So many cuddles dude

Just permanently cuddling if they’re not presently working or “coping”

And I think

That although Wilbur is the one who’s going through it

When they cuddle, Wilbur likes to hold Tommy

Just in the sense that Tommy’s here and safe

In the midst of all the death around Wilbur

He needs to know that his person, his kid is alright

Plus having this one thing this one routine helps him feel a little on control during this out of hand time

:sparkles: Prince Tommy PR leak :sparkles:

I talked about how Tommy was close to his grandmother

and how he was smoking outside of her funeral

maybe it was during that time in his life

really dark place in his mind

smoked and drank every day

Wilbur smoked a lot during that time yet

they probably drank together a few times

like straight up vodka

Just they’re so young and so tired

and so its like, pictures of Wilbur and Tommy (and just Tommy) drinking in the parlor, and in the like, bar area of their private living area, dark eye bags, red eyes, just straight from the bottle

Both of their ties were undone, no jackets, sleeves rolled up to their elbows, Wilbur's top 3 buttons are undone, they're both like manspreading

like they're just at their lowest, particularly Tommy, but Wilbur was having an adjacent bad time

Tommy's hair is a fuckin' mess

HOWEVER, they're both still clean shaven, neither of their shorts or trousers are wrinkled or stained

They may be going through it, but the royal image waits for no one

How does the castle react? Immediate lock down.

Interrogations or some shit

none of the princes are allowed to leave

they have to do clean up

they write scripts essentially for Tommy and Wilbur to adress the press

they need to send out a memo that they don't agree with underage drinking

its all structured, scripted, and written by advisors (and their father)

major damage control

which is just not what Tommy needs right now, because he's like trying to work through his grief

and Wilbur has a fucking fight with his father about that

Phil does not care

They fucked up

Someone else fucked up

And now they’re going to be big boys and fix it Like Phil's going to Tommy's room to get him to look over what his quick press tour and Wilbur jsut stops him in front of the door "He's fucking grieving - Let him have a moment will you? Don't you know how close he was with Gran?" "You messed up. He messed up. Now you're gonna be big boys and fix it." “You’re horrible sometimes you know that?” “I am your father” “Then act like it, your majesty”

meanwhile Tommy: in bed, hasn't slept, major depressive spiral, cuddling Betty, Walter standing guard at his door, holding onto a blanket that his grandmother gave him

just - can't even cry anymore

just empty

Literally just despondent

Staring at the ceiling as Betty noses his face

like good luck getting to get up, let alone read shit

He hasn’t showered in days

He is very much not presentable

like it's only been a week or two since his grandmother's death

and he still is processing

He is no where near done grieving

#tommyinnit #wilbursoot #wilbur soot #philza minecraft #philza #technoblade #tubbo #ranboo #SBI #sleepy bois inc #sleepyboisinc #LILLYS NEW AU #THE KING THE WARRIOR AND THE PRINCE #long post

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