#my name ain’t Amanda

[justagalwhowrites]

Halcyon - Ch. 3: Why don’t we try to actually get our shit together?

You and Joel come up with a plan. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 2, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Some mild diet talk, no explicit mention of reader's weight or size (beyond she is smaller than Joel but my Joels are all giant, OK? Joel is like 6'5" Joel is a big big man, big big man). Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 5K

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“Sir, I can’t just… Well, I understand that you say that but…” 

Amanda, the sophomore girl who worked the front desk of the English department offices, frowned, phone clutched against her head. 

“I understand that,” she said again. “But she’s a special case, Professor…” She flinched and glanced up to see you coming in, looking relieved. “Sir? Give me just one second and I can check…” She pressed the hold button and lowered the receiver. “Professor, I am so so sorry, I know we’re not supposed to send unexpected calls or emails through to you but do you know a Joel Miller? He’s insisting he’s a friend of yours and…” 

You raised your eyebrows before answering. 

“Yeah, I know Joel. Go ahead and transfer him back to my office. And if he ever gives you a hard time again, tell him to fuck off.” 

Amanda looked relieved and took Joel off hold as you went to the end of the hall and unlocked your door. You didn’t have to share an office like a few other people in your department. One of the perks, you imagined, of being a big name that got the university some attention. But you hadn’t done much with the space yet, the only thing on the wall a framed poster that the dean had waiting for you when you started there. 

Your phone rang just as you set down your bag and you picked it up, tucking it against your shoulder. 

“Yes, what do you want, I’m busy being very famous and important,” you said with a slight English accent. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize best selling authors were such a hot commodity,” Joel said. “Should I make an appointment?” 

“Probably,” you replied. He snorted. “What’s up?” 

“Did you know that you tried to put your number in my phone the other night?” Joel asked. “Note that I say ‘tried’ because what you actually did was put something in my notes that has four numbers and then seven symbols which, if you’re counting, ain’t even the right number of digits.” 

You scoffed. 

“You’re lucky I didn’t change your passcode or set an alarm for 4:30 in the morning,” you said. “Sounds like you got off easy.” 

“You’re a menace.” 

“I know,” you said, smiling a little to yourself. “So why were you looking for my number on a Monday morning?” 

“Because I was looking for your number on a Sunday morning and ended up shit outta luck,” he replied. “Figured I could catch you at work. They got you all locked down over there, huh?” 

“Trying to discourage random readers from contacting me here is all,” you said. “There was a problem with that at Brown right when the book first got popular. I don’t think it’d be as much of a problem now but still, administration thought it was smart. Speaking of which, don’t be a shit to my office aide.” 

“Makes sense, I guess,” he said, ignoring your last comment. “Think you can put me on the list of people who are allowed to talk to you? And on the list of people who are allowed to bring you food?” 

“Bring me food?” You frowned. 

“Well, yeah,” he said. “I was hoping I could do that. Like… today. In an hour or so. If you’re not shaping young minds or whatever.” 

“Don’t you have work?” You laughed. 

“New job starts tomorrow,” he said. “And I don’t exactly have a lot of time without Sarah where I’m not at work.” 

“And you want to see me?” 

“No, I figured I’d just call and annoy your secretary as a new hobby…” 

“Office aide.” 

“You free for lunch or not, Goldie?” He said, exasperated. You resisted the urge to laugh. 

“Yeah,” you said. “Yeah, I’m free. I have a class gap from 11:30 to 2. I can meet you somewhere…” 

“I’ll just come to you,” he said. “Assuming that a fancy schmancy professor will still eat tamale lady tamales…” 

“OK you could have opened with tamale lady tamales,” you said. “Buried the lead there, Miller.” 

Joel laughed. 

“I’ll give you my number and you can text me where your office is,” he said. “Then I’ll have a way to contact you that isn’t fucking gibberish. See you in two hours.” 

You put his number into your phone and texted him. He responded with a screenshot of your note with the message literally none of those numbers are right which made you laugh. 

It was hard to focus as you taught your next class, checking your watch every few minutes to see just how much time had passed. You were keyed up, stomach tight, and you tried to talk yourself down as you walked half way across campus back to your office. 

It was Joel. Just Joel. Sure, before Friday, you hadn’t seen or talked to him in years but falling back into friendship with him had felt so easy so far. He was safe and comfortable. You’d spent every day with Joel once upon a time. 

But that felt so long ago now. You were different people then. Joel was a jock who pretty much just hung out with you and tried to speed run his way through every hot girl in school. You were a geek who spent her entire life either trailing along behind Joel or with her nose in a book. A lot had changed in the last decade and a half. Joel had a kid. You’d gotten married and divorced. Well, almost divorced. Nothing was finalized yet but you’d stopped wearing your wedding band when you moved to Texas even though it still sat on the ring stand on your bedside table. 

After Friday and Saturday, you weren’t entirely sure if you were going to see Joel again. You hadn’t gotten his number and you remembered nothing of trying to put your number in his phone while you were drunk. You weren’t sure if it was going to be a fluke, just a blip on the radar of your lives that had gone on totally disconnected paths for more than a decade, or if this was something that would continue. 

You weren’t sure what you wanted. Losing him the first time had hurt. It might have been the worst thing that had ever happened to you, even worse than losing your mother, than watching your sister sister fall apart in slow motion over the last decade, than your father entirely. Was it something you could survive again? Was it something you’d need to dig back up and talk through with Joel now that you were speaking again? If that was what he needed, was that something you could handle doing? You weren’t sure about any of it. 

But you were already starting to think that you’d go along with anything Joel wanted as long as you got to keep him around this time, just like high school. He’d been the sun and you’d been caught in the gravity of him. You wondered if you’d ever escaped it at all. 

You straightened up your office a bit, not that you’d had much time for things to get too messy. Most things were submitted virtually now, though you insisted on poetry being printed to make sure formatting was maintained, and most of your personal notes were contained to planners and notebooks that were in orderly piles on your desk. You were absently checking your email when there was a knock on the frame of your door and you looked up to see Joel standing there, a foil covered plate in one hand, two glass bottles of Dr. Pepper in the other. 

“Oh my God, is that Dublin Dr. Pepper?” You gaped at him. 

“Technically no,” he said, coming in and setting a bottle down in front of you. “Stopped making it at the Dublin plant years ago but basically the same thing. Hi, by the way.” 

“Hi. And I’ll take basically the same thing,” you said, leaning forward to peer into the hall. “Do me a favor and close the door?” 

He nudged it shut with his foot and you took the bottle, popping it open on the edge of your desk. Joel sat in the chair on the other side of your desk before he followed suit, smirking as he did. 

“I didn’t want witnesses if I broke the desk I’ve had all of a month, OK?” You said. 

“Goldie, I don’t think you could break the desk if you tried,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. You did the same, humming a little in appreciation. You rolled the liquid on your tongue like you would a wine, the bubbles crackling and dancing there before you swallowed it. 

“God, that’s good,” you said. “I can’t remember the last time I had a soda that wasn’t diet…” 

“Christ you sound like a Yankee,” Joel laughed, sitting back in the chair. “That’s a Coke in your hand, darlin’, not a fuckin’ soda.” 

“Oh God,” you groaned and laughed, too. “That was such a hard habit to break! I’d ask my roommate if we had any Cokes, she said no, I’d go in the fridge later and see Diet Pepsi and have a what the fuck moment.” 

“Strange world out there,” Joel smiled slightly, turning the glass bottle that looked so small in his large hands. 

“Are these the tamales?” You asked, nodding at the plate. 

“Oh, shit, yeah,” he said, taking the foil off the plate. The corn husks glistened and you groaned a little. Joel pulled two sets of plastic wrapped silverware out of his pocket and handed you one. “How long’s it been since you had one of these?” 

“I don’t even want to own up to it,” you said, unwrapping the fork and knife. “I’ve basically been on a diet for the last decade of my life, these look incredible.” 

You wheeled your office chair around the desk and sat next to Joel before peeling back a husk and cutting the end off with your fork and taking a bite. Your eyes rolled back in your head and you slumped back in the chair with a satisfied moan. 

“Jesus Christ.” 

“That good, huh?” Joel laughed.You just nodded, mouth full, and sat up to cut off another bite before you even swallowed the first one. “Diet for 10 years?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded, covering your mouth with your hand until you could swallow. “There was the book tour, they wanted me to look a certain way. And… well, my husband has a type so…” 

“Fuck that guy,” Joel said, opening another tamale and taking a bite of it. You rolled your eyes a little. “Mean it, fuck that and fuck him.” 

“Oh, so you don’t have a type?” You asked, brows raised. “Because I seem to remember a very distinctive type in high school…” 

“Oh lord,” he rolled his eyes. 

“Pretty, for sure,” you said, teasing a little. “You definitely seemed to be a bit of a boobs man…” 

“If I were with someone I sure as shit wouldn’t make them fucking diet to be my type,” he cut you off. “He’s a fucking idiot, Goldie.” 

“You’re making a bigger deal out of this than it really is,” you waved him off. 

“No, I’m really not,” he replied. “If we’d been talkin’ I’d have fuckin’ come to Rhode Island and kicked his sorry ass.” 

“Joel,” you rolled your eyes. 

“What?” He asked. “I would’ve. And he’d fuckin’ deserve it.” 

“Anyway,” you said, cutting off another chunk of tamale. “You’ve got a new job starting tomorrow?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded. “It’s one that I’m actually lookin’ forward to, too. Get to be a little more creative…” 

“You don’t normally get to be creative?” You frowned. 

He scoffed. 

“Not on any of the big shit,” he said. “Owners and managers get to do that. They toss me the smaller projects here and there to plan and run, this one is some owner’s suite remodel. Doin’ the bathroom, fancy fucking closet, that kind of shit. They’re letting me run it so I’ll shut up about never getting to do the fun stuff.” 

“How long have you been working there?” You asked. 

“Since I was 20,” he said. “So… fuck, 13 years? Jesus, I’m getting old…” 

“And they’re not letting you do the creative stuff?” You asked, brows raised. 

“I’m apparently ‘too valuable’ runnin’ the crew,” he used air quotes. “They throw a few of these little jobs to me every year but mostly I just make sure shit goes right on site for bigger jobs. Get it all done on time, all that.” 

“Do you like doing that?” You asked. 

“Not really.” 

“OK,” you frowned. “So why are you still there?” 

“Well, mostly because I tried paying my mortgage once with dreams and they told me to fuck off,” he said dryly and you glared at him. 

“You know what I mean,” you said, cutting off a chunk of his tamale. 

“Hey!” 

“Shove it,” you popped it in your mouth before he could take it back. He rolled his eyes. “You’ve been doing that work for a while is what I mean, I’m sure somewhere else would hire you and you could do the parts of it you liked.” 

“What I really want is to start my own company,” he said. “Well, what I really want is to play music but that ship’s sailed. Realistically, I’d like to start my own company. I think I could make some really cool shit if I had the chance.” 

“So do it,” you shrugged. 

“Oh yeah, easy for you to say,” he scoffed. “What, you just write your fuckin’ book?” 

“No,” you said. “It took a lot of work and editing and rewriting and I’m not sure I’ll ever do it again but I did it. You can do it.” 

“What do you mean you’re not sure you’ll ever do it again?” He frowned. “Thought I saw somethin’ about you writing another one.” 

You looked at him for a moment, frowning a little, fork frozen over the plate. You were contracted for another book but that wasn’t something that had made national news, just an item in some industry publications after the press release from the publisher. 

Why would Joel know that?

“What?” He asked. “Why are you starin’ at me?” 

“Oh,” you said. “Just got something on your face…” You dipped your fork into some of the drippings on the plate before smearing it on Joel’s cheek. “Just there, nothing crazy.” 

He pursed his lips and looked like he was struggling not to laugh. 

“You’re the worst person I know,” he said, wiping his face with a tissue from the box on your desk.

You smirked, sitting back in your chair and putting your legging-clad legs in his lap, the way you used to sit with him on the couch back when you were teenagers. 

“I know.” 

“I’m serious though,” he said, the hand not holding the fork going around your calf just like it always had. “What do you mean you might never do it again?” 

“I don’t know,” you sighed, peeling the husk off another tamale and cutting off a bite of it. “I don’t know that I have another story to tell. I’ve been trying to tell another one and I just… haven’t found one. I think I had one good story in me and I told it. That’s the end.” 

“That’s bullshit,” Joel said. 

“It’s really not,” you shrugged. “When I wrote the first one it just kind of flowed. At least the first draft did. I wrote it in about six months after my mom died and Gale…” 

“Brad.” 

You glared at him. 

“Gale,” you repeated. “Edited it and workshopped it with me.” 

“Oh I’m sure he was a fuckin’ natural at that,” Joel said, voice dripping in sarcasm. You glared at him. “What, you’re telling me I’m wrong? I don’t think I am…”

“He was well equipped for the job,” you allowed. “And yeah, it took a lot of edits and rewrites before it was ready to even start trying to show to agents, it was years of work… Who would I do that with now? I don’t know that I can do it by myself…” 

“Do it with your publisher and shit,” Joel said. “Come on, don’t tell me that jackass is what’s holding you back…” 

“It’s not just that. I really don’t know that I have anything else to say. And even if I did…” you took a deep breath. You’d never said this aloud, not even to your agent. “If I did, what if it’s not as good?” 

Joel waved you off. 

“Of course it’d be as good, the fuck are you talking about?” 

“I’m talking about the fact that everyone freaked the fuck out about the fact that my ‘debut novel,’” you put the words in air quotes, “was so brilliant and shit, what if I never write anything better? What if everything I ever make after this is a let down? What if I never do anything good again? Everyone who took a risk on me, everyone who read my first book, everyone who ever thought I could do something will be let down by it. Jesus, one reviewer said it was the best debut novel since To Kill a Mockingbird, how the fuck am I supposed to live up to that? Starting to understand why Harper Lee didn’t publish anything else for decades…” 

 “Goldie,” Joel said gently. “I’m sure you’d write something great.”

You poked at your tamale, staring at it as you did. 

“What if the only great thing I ever made was great because of him?” You asked quietly, eyes darting to Joel for a second before looking back at the plate. “What if it was just fine when it came from me and it only became what it became because of him?” 

“Anything you’d write would be great, got nothing to do with fuckin’ Brad,” he said. “Not sure you can write something that’s not great.” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“Joel, you read the articles I wrote for the school paper,” you said. “I don’t think you’re a fair judge.” 

“And your lit mag stuff,” he said defensively. “Look, I’m not a genius or anything but I’m smart enough to know when something’s great and you’re great, alright?” 

“Yeah, well…” you nudged his leg with your knee. “So are you.” 

He just looked at you for a moment until you frowned. 

“What?” 

He leaned forward with his fork, smearing some tamale drippings on the tip of your nose.

“Got something right… there.” 

You laughed and he squeezed your calf and you cleaned your face before you went back to focusing on the food and life outside of your broader ambitions. Before what felt like too long there was a knock on your door and Alyssa poked her head in. 

“Sorry, didn’t realize you had company,” she smiled, her eyes drifting to where your legs were still in Joel’s lap. “I was just going to put a note on your desk, I figured you’d be at your next class already. Have you written your midterm yet?” 

“Not yet,” you said, looking at your watch and you realized it was far later than you realized and you had less than 10 minutes to walk to your next class. “Shit, I have to go!” 

Joel released your leg from his hold and you scrambled to collect your things as Joel cleaned up the remains of lunch. 

“If you wanted to write midterms together,” Alyssa said as you slung your bag over your shoulder. “Maybe next week?” 

“Sure,” you said, looking around at your desk and grabbing your gold notebook before standing next to Joel. “Email me?” 

“Yup,” she smiled, looking Joel up and down. “Absolutely will. Hi.” 

“Hi,” he said, smiling a little. You looked between them and fought the urge to groan. She was just Joel’s type. 

“Alright, some of us have to go teach,” you said. “Out of my office so I can lock up.” 

You ushered them both into the hall. 

“Have fun teaching,” Alyssa waved, giving Joel a last look before heading to her office a few doors down from yours. 

“Oh I’m sure I will,” you said, taking Joel’s hand and pulling him along behind you before he could start gawking at her and then you were really late for school. “See you later…” 

“What was that about?” Joel laughed as you spilled out into the hall that was tight with the press of students. 

“I know your type,” you said. “And I don’t have time to wait for you to be done doing your thing…” 

“My ‘thing?’ And you know my type?” He asked, brows raised. “Really? Well, in that case…” 

“Oh shut up,” you rolled your eyes and he laughed. 

“I came by to see you, for the record,” he said. “And apparently feed you properly since you aren’t gonna do it yourself…” 

“Thank you,” you said, sincerely. “That was really good. And it was really nice, hanging out with you.” 

“It was good to hang out with you, too,” he said, smiling a little, his hands shoved in his pockets. “Should let you get to class though. Those minds aren’t gonna shape themselves. And I have your actual number now, not the fuckin’ hieroglyphics you tried to leave me Friday…” 

“And I have yours,” you smiled back. “But I do have to go…” 

“Right,” he said, leaning in and pulling you into a hug and holding you close for a second. He was warm and his chest was firm and there was something about the way his arms fit around you that was so all encompassing you were certain that you belonged there with him. That, somewhere in the universe, the root of you both had grown together and separated just to find each other again. He pulled back. “Don’t let those college kids give you too much trouble.” 

“I won’t,” you said. “Don’t let Sarah give you shit.” 

“Oh, I will,” he said. “Can’t help it. Bye, Goldie.” 

You smiled.

“Bye, Joel.” 

You were three minutes late to class. You didn’t care. 

When you got home, you went to one of the boxes you hadn’t unpacked yet, one that sat in the  extra bedroom that you hadn’t found a use for yet. You knew exactly which box, the one filled with things you only looked at when you were feeling especially strong or particularly weak. You sifted through old notebooks, past one of Joel’s faded band t-shirts that you’d swiped at his house when Tommy had knocked a cup of Kool-aid over when you were wearing a white shirt and Mrs. Miller and scrambled to get your top in the wash to get the stain out and then you’d never given it back, down to the shoebox of photos. You pulled it out and looked through them. Joel at 16, a confused look on his face as he lay on the wheeled contraption he used for sliding easily under his truck and you surprised him with camera, a splotch of grease on his cheek. You, 17, in Joel’s letterman that was big on him so it was massive on you, sleeves shoved up around your forearms as you stuck your tongue out at the camera. The two of you, 16, sitting on opposite sides of a restaurant booth, your legs stretched out on the benches, a basket of fries and a milkshake between you. You were flashing a peace sign at the camera and Joel was looking at you, a soft smile on his face. 

It was easy to remember what friendship with Joel had been. It would be so easy to fall back into it. It felt like you were always supposed to be this way, lives so intertwined they were built on the same foundation. It had seemed an impossible thing, to blow it all apart. You’d loved it then. You missed it now. But it had blown apart and you weren’t sure you could survive losing it again. 

You sighed, flipping to the back of the box to the photos from prom night. Your mom had sent them to you after you’d moved to Rhode Island and they’d languished at the photo lab for weeks. There was a simple note: “Thought you might want these,” a little heart drawn at the end. 

You found the picture of the two of you together, your hand on his chest, his arm around your waist. You were looking up into his eyes and he was looking into yours, a small smile on his face, just enough for the beginnings of his dimple to show. You looked at it for a while before you signed, packing everything else away and moving to your office, propping the photo against your computer as you sat down to write. 

***

Sarah had been in rare form that night. Very skeptical about why she needed to do homework at all and trying to logic her way out of needing to do it for as long as she possibly could. 

“Kiddo, if you just sat down and did it, you’d be done by now,” Joel had groaned at one point. 

“But if I just didn’t do it, I’d be done by now, too,” she replied. 

He took a deep breath. Sometimes, this girl… 

“Not on the table, Baby Girl,” he said. “You can either do your homework now and have time to watch TV before bed or you can not do your homework and fight me on it, not watch TV and get up early tomorrow to finish your homework. Up to you.” 

She groaned, picking up her pencil, bouncing her leg impatiently under the dinner table. Joel wasn’t sure who was happier when the damn worksheets were done, him or his daughter.

Once Joel was certain Sarah was asleep, he went to the back of his closet and found the box that he kept stashed away. He didn’t have to look far, the two copies of your book right on top. One was signed. He didn’t open that one, just looked at it now and then, held it when he wanted to touch something you’d touched once. 

The other had a worn spot on the spine, where the structure of the book had cracked and bent enough times because he’d tried to read it dozens of times but could never bring himself to go past the first page. 

He liked the cover of it, certain that you’d had a hand in picking it. It was simple, an orange sun with a gilded flower in front of it, the title, Halcyon, in bold letters below the abstract image. Joel flipped past the pages of praise, the title page, the table of contents, the forward written by fucking Brad. He turned until he got to the words that were yours. He knew they were yours, he recognized the voice of you, even on paper. No matter what you said, there wasn’t an ounce of Brad there. At least, not on that page.

“The sun in Texas was hot in summer,” you’d written, “melting ice cream and asphalt in equal measure. But it was the heat of his palm that made my cheeks burn…” 

He closed the book, looking at the back cover with your picture on it. Your arms were folded so that one was in front of you, the other vertical alongside your face. Your gaze was intense, a knowing smile on your lips, as though you were staring at him, teasing him, tempting him. “The answers are all here, Joel,” your picture said. “If you could just make yourself read it, you’d know.” 

He put the book down and got his phone out of his pocket, finding your number in his contacts. 

You answered on the second ring. 

“Oh my God, you’re so demanding,” you sighed in faux exasperation. 

Joel laughed. 

“I know, I’m so fucking needy, don’t know how you stand me.” 

You laughed back. 

“What’s up?” 

“Been thinking,” he began. 

“You?” You said. “Really?” 

“Shut up.”

You giggled. 

“Anyway,” he continued. “Feel free to tell me to kick rocks but… Sounds like neither of our lives have exactly gone the way we’ve wanted them to.” 

“You mean you didn’t plan on being a single dad and I didn’t plan on being divorced at 32?” You gasped. “Color me shocked!” 

“We were always good at holding each other accountable,” he said, ignoring you. “Hell, you’re the only reason I graduated high school…” 

“And you’re the only reason I started at the school paper,” you said. Joel smiled at that, the memory of standing outside the newspaper office while you talked to the teacher so you couldn’t back out. 

“Right,” he said. “Well… what if we did that now?” 

“Now?” He could hear you frowning through the phone. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean,” he said. “Why don’t we try to actually get our shit together? You make me better, always have…” 

“You, too,” you said quietly but you at least sounded serious now. 

“When are you supposed to have your next book done?” He asked. “Assuming there’s a contract with a deadline for that shit, right?” 

“End of next year,” you sighed. 

“Great,” Joel said. “Alright, let’s give ourselves to the end of next year to set ourselves straight. You finish your book, whatever else you want to get done…” 

“Finalize my divorce,” you said. 

“That’s a good one,” Joel said. “I’ll see about starting my own business…” 

“And having a stable relationship?” You asked. 

“Sounds like a good goal,” he answered, his stomach twisting a bit at that. “What do you say? We come up with a list of shit and go from there? You know we’re better when we’re on a team than when we’re not.” 

You were quiet for a moment. 

“Yeah,” you said eventually. “Yeah, let’s do it.” 

Joel smiled a little, looking down at the box, the cover of your book looking back at him. 

“It’s a deal,” he said. “We’ve got this, Goldie.” 

You laughed a little. 

“Hell yeah we do.”

Next Chapter

A/N: So sorry for the long wait on this! Should be weekly updates from here out for a while, promise <3

Thank you thank you thank you for reading! I'm so excited for what's coming up for these two, I just love how they love each other and yes. I can't wait to explore it all with you.

Thank you for being here! Love you!

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #halcyon

[rreskk]

Hiii

How about a threesome with Trevor x fem!Reader x Mickey for a one-night stand ? 👀

Don't know if they could be competitive 🤔

Great idea! I've never done something like this before so sorry if anything lacks clarity or unclear. Enjoy!

Summary: A supposedly drunk hookup with Michael Townley ended with a second bang.

TW: -Smut

Pairings: Michael Townley/Fem! reader/Trevor Philips

Word count: 2357

North Yankton – 2002 – A motel located within Ludendorff

Michael Townley, the guy you were originally drinking and hooking up with, brought you back to his humble motel room.

It was a poverty-stricken room. The TV was static, the wallpapers were faded and stained with unidentified substances. It was a needful environment; desperate for maintenance and updates. There were two beds centred near each other. Michael used the nearest one; the cleanest one. The other one was messy. It had needles and pipes scattered across the duvets, a pool of dried up blood permanently marking the two stiff pillows. Michael mentioned – No. He protested that it wasn’t his mess (someone else’s, someone present), whatever that meant…

But that didn’t matter, not as long as you were hardly sober.

When you both stumbled forward, your fingers pathetically looped with each other. The intensity was louder than the movements in the bathroom as two hard footsteps shook the surrounding floor. It took your undying attention but Michael insisted it was nothing, ripping off your clothes and grasping at your curves drunkenly, not realising that it wasn’t just nothing.

Someone was there.

It wasn’t alarmed yet. You were both kissing with tongues and groping each other’s bodies before seeing an amused grin from a deranged looking stranger that huddled the other bed, claiming the junk and drug-fuelled massacre.

Michael was on top of you, kissing the skin of your neck as you made eye contact with this man. He looked aroused, but also very VERY high. His brown, dark eyes were bloodshot and his pupils were dilated extremely inhumanly. He placed a shaky finger to his lips, demanding you to keep quiet as he didn’t want Michael to know of his presence. He just wanted to watch.

There was something so sinister about him. The guy had a messy mullet that struct in every direction, his hair greasy and untamed. When he grinned at you, this weight of his moustache was lifted to present a pair of sharpy and yellow teeth. He hasn’t blinked since you’ve noticed him. He was constantly staring at you, occasionally licking his lips and toying with the bulge between his legs.

You’d subtly gasp to grab Michael’s attention, finding yourself intimated by the audience beside you. As you nudged him with your legs, he sat up with a raise eyebrow until you pointed towards the other bed. Michael looked over and went wide eyed.

“What the fuck – Trevor!”

The other guy groaned at the disruption of seeing you both get at it.

“Don’t stop on my account, Mikey. You got yourself a heartbreaker, ay?” Trevor smirked at you with his morbid teeth.

“T, the fuck you doing here? Brad said you were out for the night.”

“I was out for the night, I got back an hour ago… Then you two love-birds decided to show up and keep me company, hm? Ain’t that right, sweetheart? What’s your name?”

The question made you shudder. The way he chewed his tongue in attempt of charming you despite the cruel look in his face.

“Leave her alone,” Michael covered your naked chest with his duvet, “She don’t want you around, neither do I.”

“I wonder what Amanda would think of this, am I right?” Trevor carried on tormenting with his lips twitching at the effects of whatever drug he’s on. He suddenly scowled when your breasts were out of his sight, making the atmosphere more hostile.

“Who’s Amanda?” You sheepishly asked.

T’s eyes softened at your confusion. There was a flicker of empathy before it switched off when Michael opened his mouth again.

“She’s no one, darling. Listen – Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t know this idiot would be here.”

Your thigh was still being caressed during his “truthful” apology. The gesture was happening from under the cold covers, away from Trevor’s perverted eyes. There was silence as no one believed Michael’s words, neither did he. You were left lying there before making eye contact with the other man again, being received a smaller but cheesier smirk.

“What’s he doing under there?”

“Nothing.” Mikey quickly said and snatched his hand away from your legs.

“Lies, lies, lies…” Trevor jumped off his bed and leaned over you, his head almost colliding with Michael’s. He was observing your face, neck, collarbone; trying to see at least a snip of your breasts again.

“Trevor, the fuck are you doing? Leave her alone.”

“Ohh, come on… Really? She’s a gorgeous girl… Why can’t we share, hm? Sweetheart, do you mind a bit of Uncle T in the action? I’m a gentle guy.” The drug addict smirked.

In a way, he was an interesting guy. His charming personality was already magic. There was something promising that it made you maintain eye-contact, your heart beating twice as much as it was before. Trevor shamelessly began fondling your shoulder before giving Michael a blank stare; telling him non-verbally that he will participate, even through the objections.

“If you don’t want it, you can leave and I’ll finish her off.” Threatened Trevor until his friend hesitantly sat up, looking at you for consent.

And when you nodded, their eyes both lit up with excitement.

Michael sat up and moved towards the end of the bed, pulling you with him and helping you get into position. You leaned onto your arms – ass hunched in the air, being fondled and massaged in preparation while Trevor crawls towards you. He pressed his back against the bed-railings and arched his lower body, your chin being in proportion with his crotch.

“Just like old times, Michael.” There was a wholesome sense of relief in Trevor’s voice. He was fully fixated on you, brushing some hair strands away from your face, tucking them behind your red ears.

Behind you was the sound of flies being unzipped. You returned to your position and held your glutes up high. Mike placed his hands upon your hips and rocked you into his erection. Without seeing the length, you were flabbergasted at how hard and big he was. Your mouth fell open, staring up at T with glassy eyes while his smirk gets wider. The sight of you rocking back and forth with your breasts shaky and hanging from your chest was the exact awakening for his bulge to throb.

“Ohhhh… Look at you, sugar. Keep your eyes on me, come on girl.”

You followed Trevor’s instructions and sucked in your lips, whining quietly as Michael continued thrusting in and out. You noticed how crazed his brown eyes were. Trevor studied the way your mouth chimed open. His erection pulsed even harder now. It craved the sensation of your saliva. It wanted to be suffocated and tortured by your tongue.

He placed a thumb on your bottom lip and forced your mouth open while shaking down his jeans. His white briefs were exposed and the hardened sight of his damp penis throbbed and twitched. You saw it move from under his pants. The tip was bulging red and there was already pre-cum drooling from the surface.

“Keep your mouth open,” He huskily ordered and exacted his cock from the imprisonment of his clothes. Trevor’s hands grasped the back of your head, roughly holding onto your hair strands and knocked his groin forward, sending the penis into your mouth.  

You immediately gagged.

He wasn’t that big, but he had will-power. T panted at the contact of your teeth with his foreskin. His nostrils flared and he cried out in pleasure.

“Fuck, fuck…” He nibbled onto his lip, “Jesus. Tell me your name, sugar. Choke your name on my fuckin’ cock, you slut.”

Michael was grunting and churning when listening to this interaction. He had his visions glues to your ass that grinded against his length, enjoying the intimate contact (that he doesn’t receive much). You could tell as he was desperate with the thrusts. He was very lively and rigid that pronouncing your name and introducing yourself to Trevor was merely impossible. Mikey was hunched over your back, his hips sloppily slapping against your frame. He had a strong physique so he was naturally heavy handed with his movements – Handling you with authority.

“Shit.” Even his moans were short and stiff. It could easily match how major and serious he felt about this interaction.

You wanted to shout his name, but Trevor’s feisty cock rammed itself in and out of your mouth. Your tongue tried to catch up, only managing to wipe the pre-cum he had gifted you for making him aroused and horny. The hand around your head was also aggressive and hostile. He didn’t have natural power like Michael’s, but it was extremely combative and confrontational.

“Tell me your fuckin’ name, swee – Oh, Oh fuck me. You’re so fuckin’ hot. Mhmmm…” The commands were ongoing. He was belittling you at this point, and you loved it. This guy was seriously unforgettable. May the Lord thank him for interrupting your precious alone time with Michael.

When you thought you were getting used to the pace of both men fucking with you, Mikey decides to speed up. He was throbbing inside you. He was exactly hitting your sensitive patch and you had no time to prepare for the sudden pleasure.

“Mike-“ You strangled on Trevor’s cock. You were beginning to drool, the saliva strands hanging from your chin and lips. He giggled at how needy you were. He’d give his friend a small smirk after your attempt of moaning his name.

“Mikey this, Mikey that… Baby, Uncle T wants to know your fuckin’ name. Come on… Choke it out.”

“[y/n] – Oh! Urgh!”

“[y/n]?” Trevor mimicked your struggle with a grin. He watched you slurp his foreskin, your eyes getting glassier when your words were thrown back up into your throat, “Come on. Louder.”

“I ca-“

“LOUDER!”

You collapsed onto Trevor’s stomach, his cock still adventuring in your mouth. Michael had made your arms fail to hold your strength anymore. You sluggishly fell against the sheets, making him kneel and dig deeper within your sex.

Trevor almost felt jealous at how good Mikey was making you feel. He’d glare at him, his fingers scraping your scalp with jealousy and anger. He had full sights of Townley fucking you nice and good. Trevor watched and grinded his teeth. He decided it was no excuse to slunk and he thrusted his penis into your mouth, lifting up your face and watched how eager you took it. You were intimidated by how angry he was. The way his eyebrows darkened and caused shadows over his whole face. There his lips quivering and screwing up into a petty scowl as he caressed your cheek and hair; this guy was dangerously confusing to read.

“[y/n], fuck.” T growled and urged you faster.

You held onto his thighs for support and felt your climax grow closer.

“I’m gonna-“

“Same.” Cried out Michael who had sweat trickling the hairline of his buzzcut. He went to slow down but Trevor scoffed.

“Woah, hey! Fuck her through the orgasm, you slacker!”

You felt him begin to fasten his face, thankful that Trevor stopped him from stopping. You stroked his thigh and gazed up at him with the cock still buried in your mouth. You wanted to express your appreciation but he seemed to get it, and smirked.

“I’m your favourite, aren’t I? Isn’t that right, [y/n]? Come on… Come on… Fuck-“ He winced, “Faster baby, I’m almost there.”

You bopped your head up and down before Trevor arched his back and gagged.

“FUCK!”

He came all into your mouth, his semen devouring and soaking up your spit and tongue. He was whining throughout the orgasm, threatening to pull your hair with how antsy and static he was.

 You gasped for air after he pulled his dick away, rubbing it raw as cum sneakily ran from the tip away. Trevor looked ruined. His face was scrunched up with pleasure and pain, obviously easy to please considering you only had to haggle his foreskin with your selfish tongue.

He then leaned forward and pressed his forehead against yours, breathing the intoxicating and gruesome odour of his body and mouth upon your face while Michael took his last thrust. You were reaching your climax and moaned until he kissed your lips hungrily, holding a hand against your throat and stealing your speech away. His moustache abused your upper lip. You’ll definitely receive a stubble burn after this.

Furthermore, Michael had pulled out in time to come all over your ass as well. He was wrecked to the point of being bright-red and wheezing for air. His shirt was soaked in sweat, his hand gently caressed your shoulder blades while Trevor pulled away from the kiss, monstrously happy with this outcome.

“Look at you both… Hm? Hot messes, especially you, sugar.” He pinched your chin before resting back and closing his eyes to recapture his energy.

Mikey breathed out, “Fuck… You liked that, [y/n]?”

You nodded your head, absolutely exhausted and amazed at their performances. You’ve never had a threesome before. You were almost tempted to do it again.

“Next time, I’ll fuck you. Mikey’s a bit low on the mutual participation.” Trevor grinned. It was like he read your mind.

“Aww, fuck you.”

“Oh? Then who’d fuck [y/n] over there? Hmm, actually, she’d fuck better than you. Hey, sugar, ever tried a strap on?”

You weren’t sure if he was serious or not. T was such an unpredictable character. You rested your chin on his thigh and looked dazed.

“Too soon? Gotcha. I think you’d be a beast anyway…” He smirked as Michael rolled his eyes.

“[y/n]. I’ll take you home.”

“Woah, hey. Let the girl rest. I like her on my lap.”

“How is he not freaking you out?” Mikey asked you with a frown.

“At least I watch out for her, Mr ‘stopping before coming’. What would you do without me-“

“Stop it, please!” You pled. Their bickering had finally made you lose the plot, “You both gave me a good time. Just let me… Rest, okay?”

Trevor smirked at you, “Say no more. Naked cuddle?”

“Jesus Christ, Trevor. Enough!”

#grand theft auto 5 #trevor philips #gta v #grand theft 5 #grand theft auto #gta 5 #trevor gta #trevor philips x reader #trevor philips/reader #michael de santa #michael townley/reader #michael de santa/reader #michael de santa/you #michael townley #grand theft auto v #grandtheftauto #my fanfiction #my fanfic writing #michael townely fanfiction #michael de santa fanfiction #trevor philips fanfiction #trevor philips/you #trevor philips headcanons

[callmemana]

Deeper Than The Holler:

I fell in love with the self-insert x reader stories I have read from the Chaos Squad otherwise known as @bayisdying @cycbaby @dragon-kazansky @mrsjaderogers (my adoptive mama) @askmarinaandothers @callsignscupcake @mtnofgrace @altierirose and a special thank you to @switchbladedreamz for proof reading and to @sligheach-sidhe & @firefly-graphics for the dividers!

Leonard ‘Wolfman’ Wolfe x Amanda ‘Highroller’ Moore 🦋☂️

The Title is off of this Randy Travis Song

He knew the moment that she walked into the O Club for what looked for her shift that he was hooked. She wore the regulated uniform, a t-shirt with the O Club symbol small on the front on her left breast and then a large picture on the back. She also had a slightly dirty white stetson covering her yellow-like sunflower hair, and if the light of the club catches it just right, you can see streaks of red in it. Sat on the bridge of her nose were glasses, thick like a coke bottle, and in her right nostril, a rose gold hoop.

His eyes wandered her frame as she made her way to the bar to start her shift, he paused on her forearms. There, he saw two tattoos, on her left what seemed to be wording, most likely a quote, and on her right, a butterfly, with its right side flowers instead of its usual symmetrical wings. She was different than most women here in Miramar. You could tell by the way she carried herself she was from a small town, head held high, shoulders back. She had something to prove. What that was, he didn’t know but was willing to find out.

As he looked at her features and analyzed her, he realized that her shoulders were uneven, and one collarbone was higher up than the other. Once he had built up the courage to talk to her, he might ask about that. Hollywood must have followed his line of sight because he was nudging my arm and wiggling his eyebrow, “Pretty ain’t she Wolfie?” all I could do was nod, so entranced by her beauty, “Sure is Wood.” “Why don’t you go up and talk to her?” “Because we both know that I’ll say something stupid and lose my chance to talk to her.” “Never know if you don’t try.”

After a few beers, and much encouraging from Hollywood, Leonard got up from his seat and made his way to the bar to order another drink. “What can I get you hon?” She smiled at him while waiting for his drink request. “Two buds, bottle?” She nodded her head swiftly before turning her back towards him and walking away. When she came back with said drinks, “Paying for now, or on a tab?” “Tab, should be under ‘Leonard’” “We have a couple ‘Leonard’s’ here tonight. Got a last name I could search?” He nodded, “Yeah, Wolfe.” “Ok, you’re settled. Anything else I can get you?” Leonard leaned on the bar, “You know my name, but I don’t know yours.” She laughed, loud and contagiously, “Oh hon, I don’t date pilots.” “Then it’s a good thing I’m a RIO. Don’t you think?” She laughs again, moves her hair behind her ear, “I guess, but it doesn’t change the fact that your job is in a plane.” Leonard smirks, “You’ll break down eventually. They always do.” He turns away and goes back to Hollywood.

The next time he sees her, all of the squadron are sitting at a table and laughing about stupid shit. Leonard guesses that he’s staring at her for too long because the other pilots end up looking over at where he is. “Well I’ll be damned! Wolfie’s got a lil crush on the new bartender!” Laughed Maverick. “Grown men don’t get crushes, they admire.” “Grown men might, but you, Wolfie, you still get crushes.” Said Ron. “Ha-ha, Slide.” “Why don’t you go chat her up?” “He has, she laughed at him and told him she doesn’t date pilots.” “But he’s a RIO.” “I told her that too.” “Maybe she just doesn’t find your ugly mug attractive?”

“Alright, alright. Leave the cub alone. Maybe she’s lost that lovin feeling?” “First off, no. That shit doesn’t work.” “For you, maybe.” “Try a pick up line? You know what my dad always said, girls like guys who can make her smile.” “Have you heard this man flirt? It’s terrible! I don’t know how he got a girl before the Navy.” “I’m not that bad,” “Wolfie, the last female you talked to, literally laughed in your face at how bad the line was.” “Whatever, you guys are just assholes.” “Hey, if you’re going up there, get us another round?”

Wolfman nodded and made his way up to the bar, tapping his fingers on the smooth granite. “Hey! You’re back, what can I get you Leo?” “I am, could I get the boys and me another round?” “Sure, bottles of bud?” He nodded, “Yea.” She left to grab the beers and then came back, “So, are y’all celebratin’ or something?” “Um, yeah. We had a mission. We all made it back.” “Good to hear, hate to not be able to see your face every shift.”

His eyes widened at this confession. “Really, I thought you don’t date pilots?” She smiled, “I don’t, but I can see when someone’s attractive. I do have eyes Leo, they might not have the best sight though.” She said as she adjusted her coke bottle glasses up her nose. “I think they see just fine sweetheart.”

She laughs at him, “Of course you’d say that! I just complemented your looks!” “I don’t need to be praised for my handsome face to see that your beautiful.” “Oh, your one of those pilots huh?” “What kind?” “Overconfident and flirty.” “Overconfident? Sometimes. flirty? Always sweetheart.” He winked, she rolled her eyes at him.

She heard a holler from the other side of the bar, looked over and saw his friends wave and smile. She pushes the beers towards Leo a little more, “You better go before your friends have your ass for warm beer.” “I think they might deserve it, they’re dicks to me. They gave me shit for my flirting skills.” “Well tell them that they were right. You suck, but your cute and make me laugh. So, I guess it’s worth it.” She winks before turning away for another costumer. He smirks the whole way to the table with the drinks.

It’s another week or two before he sees her again. He doesn’t know her name, but feels like he’s close to gaining that privilege. Wood and he are at a table off to the side of the bar, so he can see her work. “Now that’s just stalkerish Wolfie. It’s like your completely smitten by her! Do you even know her name yet?”

He shook his head at his pilot, “You know I don’t. I just met her a month ago!” “Most guys would’ve already got her name and taken her out on a couple of dates! Grow a pair!” “She doesn’t date pilots! That’s what she told me our first meeting, Wood. What if I really don’t have a chance?” “Well, you probably don’t. I mean, you look at yourself in the mirror Wolfie? Not that great of a face.”

Leonard punches his shoulder, “Hey dude! You’re supposed to be my friend, support your friend!” “Wolfie, I can only do so much.” “Why do you say these mean things to me? I thought you loved me?” Wood laughs, “I say them because I love you Wolfie!” “You don’t act like it.” “I act like a brother, brothers love each other!” “Because they have too!” “Exactly, I have too! you’re my RIO, if you weren’t there I couldn’t make it back!”

Leonard folds his arms over his chest, leans back in his seat, and takes a pull of his beer. Wood slaps his arm closest to him and smiled, “Here comes your girl.” “Nice try, Wood. That might’ve worked the first couple of times, not not this one.” He heard her voice before he saw her, “Well I’ll be damned, if it ain’t that funny pilot!” “Actually, sweetheart. I’m a RIO.” “I know, I just like to mess with you.”

“Hi, I don’t believe we met. I’m Wolfie’s best friend and pilot, Hollywood.” “Hollywood huh? Seems pretty egotistical don’t you think?” “Well, what do you mean sweetheart?” She gives a little smile and waves her finger, “No. I’m gonna stop you right there, ‘Hollywood.’ You can’t call me Sweetheart, that’s Leo’s nickname for me, but you can call me ‘High Roller’ since we’re using callsigns.”

Both men have their jaws slightly opened and eyes widen, how did she know about callsigns? Leo left the bar later that night with Wood with more questions than answers.

The group of pilots made their way to a table near the back before picking one to come order the beers. “Hey darlin’, didn’t catch your name last couple of times I’ve seen you here.” She smiles sarcastically before slamming the beer on the counter, “That’s cause I didn’t throw it, ‘darlin’.’

“Well look at the sass on this one!” “You got some more than just sass comin’ if you ain’t careful buddy.” “I thought you southern belles were supposed to be kind and generous?” “Well, first off. I’m from the Midwest. Two, I am kind and generous to the people who don’t piss me off.”

“I’m sorry, we got off on the wrong foot. I’m Chipper.” “Nice callsign. What’s your actual name?” “Well you’re just full of surprises aren’t you? I’m Charles.” “I might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but I’m pretty sure y’all are tryna get my name to give to your boy?” The man now known as ‘Chipper’ chuckles, “You caught us. Can you please, just tell me ?”

She leaned in on the counter, “Nice try Chip, the only way he’s gettin my name, is if he plays for it.” “Should I tell him that or let him keep asking one of us to talk to you?” He smirks, “Let him keep guessing. It’s fun to watch him squirm.” She hands him the first round before checking on another patron.

As the guys made the rounds to get the beer for the table every couple of weeks and to talk, you gave each new pilot basic information about you. In passing, mentioning being a former pilot. Which they technically already knew, given your callsign. What was news to them was after a bad ejection, leaving you with a broken collarbone and ankle, you had to be discharged. All of the men repeated the information back to Leo while the others sat and planned out loud.

After many weeks of badgering and complaining about the plan, Leonard finally grew the balls and talked to ‘Sweetheart.’ “So, word around the bar is that you won’t tell them your name?” The blonde smirked and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, “Maybe word is right. Whatcha gonna do bout it?”

“I think I’m going to man up and ask.” She shrugged, “Sweetheart, please, what’s your name?” “My name is Amanda, and before you ask what you’re gonna ask next, my answer is yes.” “Even if you don’t date pilots?” He smiled. “The thing, Leo, is that you’re not a pilot. I believe the first night we met you said that you were a RIO.”

“And I believe you said that I still worked in a plane.” She smirked, “I change my mind. I mean as a former pilot, we need RIOs right? To make sure we get home?” Leo chuckled, “Yeah, every pilot needs a RIO. Does after your shift work?” “Sure thing, Cowboy!” She kisses his cheek before going back to work, smirking as she hears the whoops & hollering from his friends at their table. Before she’s out of earshot she hears, “I hope you know, Sweetheart, that I’m going to love you deeper than the holler, just like Travis said!” He smiles, taps a little happy beat on the bar counter, grabs the beers, then turns around to his friends.

Forever 🏷️list: @bayisdying @mrsjaderogers @dragon-kazansky @switchbladedreamz @sweetlittlegingy

🏷️list: @luckyladycreator2

#birdsmasterlist #birdslibrary #dtth: drabble #top gun fandom #top gun 1986 #top gun #top gun fluff #self insert #top gun fanfiction #leonard wolfman wolfe #leonard wolfman Wolfe x oc #amanda high roller moore

[jensensitive]

some ghostfacers effect headcanons~

glimpsing Reality here!! what Really Happened™️!!

* = from scripts, etc

1x07 Hook Man - Dean blew the sheriff in hook man to let him and Sam off link

"Backside" is gay porn 

SAM Yeah, but hustling pool? Credit card scams? It's not the most honest [legal] thing in the world, Dean.

1x08 Bugs

DEAN Hunting's our day job. And the pay is crap.

DEAN Well, let's see honest [legal] (He holds out one hand.) Fun and easy. (He holds out the other, and gestures that "fun and easy" outweighs "[legal]".) It's no contest. Besides, we're [I’m] good at it.

1x15 The Benders - Dean hooked up with a guy in the restroom while Sam was getting kidnapped 😔🙏

2x01 In My Time of Dying - John and Azazel kissed when John made his deal

2x20 What is and What Should Never Be - Carmen is maybe a man from a car ad (and this was all Chuck)

3x01 The Magnificent Seven - Dean: Hey, I appreciate you giving me a little quality time with the Doublemint [Wonder] Twins.

3x10 Dream a Little Dream of Me - *Dean confronts John in his nightmare and stands up for himself*

4x01 Lazarus Rising - Dean crawled out of his grave naked

4x05 Monster Movie happened before 4x03 In the Beginning

*DEAN: For a fed, you’re not a total prick.*

4x14 Sex and Violence

dean and Nick kissed

-

NICK I should be your little brother [yours. *I’m what you need.*] Sam? You can't trust him. Not like you can trust me. In fact, I really feel like you should get him outta the way, so we can be brothers [together]. Forever.

-

SAM You poisoned him.

NICK No. I gave him what he needed. And it wasn't some bitch in a G-string. It was you [me.] [*Nick strokes Dean’s hair*] A little brother that looked up to him [partner,] [someone] that he could trust. And now? He loves me. He'd do anything for me. And I gotta tell you, Sam, that kind of devotion? I mean, watching someone kill for you? It's the best feeling in the world.

4x13 After School Special - Amanda Heckerling was maybe a boy dean made out with (her name is Amanda and they made out in a closet idk) (although this entire flashback and all flashbacks are up for debate because of not only it being skewed by the perspective of whoever is remembering it, but with the Chuck revelation, Chuck having the ability to change and implant memories entirely)

5x04 The End - ghostfacers plus possible Zachariah and/or Chuck effect, Cas's orgy isn't just women because i mean come on now. And Dean and Cas were very much fucking in that future, all the more reason for dean to think he corrupted him.

*"The only thing we have left, Dean and me, is each other."*

5x22 Swan Song - when Dean drives up at Stull, he’s playing Led Zeppelin, maybe Immigrant Song or Kashmir

5x18 Point of No Return

"last person who looked at me like that? I got laid [fucked]."

6x10 Caged Heat - The porn was hardcore bdsm

7x20 The Girl With the Dungeons and Dragons Tattoo - Dean has a dumb nerdy tattoo on his ass

season 8 - Benny fed off Dean in purgatory to make him stronger in fights while dean’s human body was in a perpetual state of stasis (and/or they fucked)

8x22 Clip Show - cas buys dean lube with his porn and toilet paper

9x04 Slumber Party - Dean and Charlie are high for the entire episode after they watch Game of Thrones.

9x06 Heaven Can’t Wait - anti ghostfacers effect, headcanon that nothing happened after they left Nora’s and Chuck blipped them ahead in time to the morning giving them false memories because he saw what could happen otherwise. I think he did this a lot (see also: 5x03)

9x08 Rock and a Hard Place happened directly after 9x06 Heaven Can’t Wait

9x08 Rock and a Hard Place - the born-again virgin group is an ex-gay support group

9x10 Road Trip - Crowley and dean kissed to make the deal to let crowley out to help Sam.

10x01 Black - dean and Crowley argued about Anne Marie while fucking male triplets

10x02 Reichenbach - Dean said “I ain't your fuckin boyfriend” not “I ain’t your friggin bestie”

11x17 Red Meat -  "choking on a burger [*auto-erotic asphyxiation*] while binge-watching Charles in Charge." "That was peak Baio."

11x18 Hell’s Angel - "there's times I want to get slapped [whipped or choked] during sex by a girl wearing a Zorro mask. That don't make it a good idea."

Nick was never brought back in s12, lucifer had a different vessel

12x19 The Future - *Cas's vision was like in the script, with him shirtless and Dean thanking him* (I don’t know if this was Chuck’s doing or not though)

13x05 Advanced Thanatology - *Dean didn’t go to the strip club or steal anyone’s bra, he just drank a bunch and passed out on the floor drunk*

13x06 Tombstone - *Dean spread Cas's ashes in a garden with a windmill and a brook.*

13x12 Various and Sundry Villains - It’s Max and Alicia who are trying to steal the Grimoire for Rowena, and Max casts a love spell on Dean, but it also goes differently and they aren’t killing people and don’t die xoxo

14x10 Nihilism - Cas looking through Dean's happy memories, he sifted through a bunch of dean fucking

Michael!Dean flirts with cas

15x07 Last Call - Lorna doesn’t actually exist, she’s Chuck (so not ghostfacers effect, more Chuck effect)

15x18 Despair - Dean said “I love you too” when he was all distraught on the floor of the dungeon ignoring Sam’s calls :(

"Busty Asian Beauties" is gay porn (see: "steam baths" "boys night" on the covers)

*Sam and Dean don’t say “Jerk, Bitch” but “Jerk, Prick”

Sam is vegan.

Dean and Cas hang out and have date nights all the time, and they're constantly on the phone.

Sam and Cas both laugh at Dean's jokes sometimes.

Dean still has the handprint

#ghostfacers effect #headcanon #headcanons #trying to actually post some of my google doc stuff here have this #maybe this skews gay dean but i am who i am #long post

[pomsandpersep]

The Consumption of Black Artistry and The Apathy For Black Lives

I’m fascinated by the way white people engage with black art. Not the fact that they like it, of course. In a world full of Doja Cats and Amanda Gormans and Kendrick Lamars and so on and so on, it would be a lot harder to imagine black art not being enjoyed and consumed voraciously. No, what fascinates me is the way that white audiences interact with it. At its best, it can spark social change and open eyes to the way the other half lives. At it’s worst…it’s hard to explain but I think the best way is by categorizing it in two ways: appropriation and blind consumption.

Appropriation is usually a little easier for people to grasp. Recently, the word critiques fashion trends associated with the black community like box braids or locs co-opted by non-black communities. When it comes to music, however, the conversation becomes murkier. Take, for example, Willie Mae Thorton. In 1952, she recorded her song “Hound Dog” to minimal acclaim and even less money. When Elvis Presley re-recorded the song four years later, however, it easily entered the record books as one of the most iconic rock songs written… with little to no credit given to Thorton. If you want a more recent example, try to think of the originator of the viral Tik Tok dance, the “Renegade”. Most people credit its origins to influencer Charli D’Amelio, pushing her to stardom. Very few people know the actual originator (myself included considering I had to Google her name twice before I wrote this), Jalaiah Harmon who received a fraction of that same fame. Ultimately, whether it’s fifty years ago or now, it comes down to the same idea: a willingness to interact with our products but not with us.

This of course begs the question, if that’s appropriation, then what do I mean by “blind consumption”? Glad you asked. In 2017, rapper Amine came out with the song “Carolina'' which used the n-word in the chorus and went viral. In live performances, however, he eventually began replacing the word with the phrase “If you ain’t black, don’t say it”. Five years later, I stood in front of my predominantly white high school and performed a spoken word on the dangers of white supremacy to accolades and praise from teachers and students alike, days after the school had received backlash for instituting metal detectors and heavy security presence during a basketball game against a visiting predominantly black high school. While those two instances seemingly don’t have a connection (I’m in no way implying my poetry will someday make me famous), they both highlight the same problem. It’s enjoyment of art created by black voices without critically examining your actions surrounding that enjoyment.

While these behaviors are bad enough, it ultimately shows a lack of empathy for black artists themselves. When it does come to bite back, it comes in the form of silence for the Eric Garners and the Trayvon Martins and the George Floyds and so on and so on. It speaks to how dehumanized we are that you like us when we’re entertaining you, as if in some modern-day minstrel show, but when it comes time to see us for our humanity you’re silent. In an interview, black author James Baldwin said, “I’m terrified at the moral apathy…which is happening in my country… they have become…moral monsters.” I’m terrified that what we’re dealing with is an ever-growing new generation of moral monsters. One that can bump our music in their cars while running over our bodies in the street.

Link to the Baldwin interview: https://americanarchive.org/catalog/cpb-aacip_15-0v89g5gf5r

#blacklivesmatter #writers on tumblr #text post #social justice #tumblr

[bloodmaarked]

➸ reading list

just added:

the manicurist's daughter, susan lieu

all in her head, elizabeth comen

the age of magical overthinking: notes on modern irrationality, amanda montell

the black girl survives in this one, desiree s. evans + saraciea j. fennell

the house of broken bricks, fiona williams

and so i roar, abi daré

finding me, viola davis

that peckham boy, kenny imafidon

butter, asako yuzuki

pachinko, min jin lee

#the manicurist's daughter #susan lieu #all in her head #elizabeth comen #the age of magical overthinking #amanda montell #the black girl survives in this one #desiree s. evans #saraciea j. fennell #the house of broken bricks #fiona williams #and so i roar #abi daré #finding me #viola #viola davis #that peckham boy #kenny imafidon #butter #asako yuzuki #pach #pachinko #min j #min jin lee #re #reading list #tbr #book #bookblr #bookworm

[13thalcoragent]

My Stepmother and Stepsisters Do Not Pick On Me VIII

~

Cinder: Despite being an orphan, the Glass family has adopted me.

~

The Characters:

Cinder Fall-Glass – Our Heroine who was adopted

Amanda “Ama” Glass – Older Stepsister with Curly Hair

Lenalee “Lee” Glass – Older Stepsister with Straight Hair

Laura Glass – Stepmother and Madame

Rhodes “Rose” Glass – Pet Dog and Bodyguard

Amina Faye – Head Maid for the Glass Unicorn

~

Cinder: I thought I’d sweep the hallways since I woke up so early

Cinder: *walks pass the parlor*

From The Parlor: *noises and voices*

Cinder: Oh, are those voices in the parlor? We have a guest this early in the morning?

Male Voice: Like I said…At that time, didn’t you…take that girl in for your own convenience?

Cinder: That girl…Is he talking about me?

Laura: Even so…changing your mind after everything’s been decided is…

Cinder: *knocks on the door* Mommy? May I come in?

Laura: You may.

Cinder: Excuse…me. *walks in to find a rotund middle-aged man in a business suit*

Cinder: *hesitant* Good Morning…Sir.

Laura: *exhales slightly* Cinder. Allow me to introduce you to Amoncio Glass, my husband…and your stepfather.

Cinder: My stepfather…

Amoncio: Girl…It’s time for you to leave.

Laura: Dear, we haven’t seen each other since you left for your business trip. I am glad to see you doing well…However, why are you trying to overturn what’s already been decided?

Amoncio: At the time…I was overwhelmed with work…I now realize how irresponsible it was to just give you blanket approval on the matter of adopting this girl. For starters, there’s no way a commoner can adapt to the life of such a prominent family. Should anything happen, it’ll tarnish the Glass name.

Cinder: He’s right…If an uneducated person enters their ranks…it’ll surely embarrass the Glass Family…If my existence will prove troublesome for my sisters…surely it’d be best if I left!

Laura: What is your wish, Cinder?

Cinder: I…

Lee: *barges in with Ama* No Way!!

Cinder: Huh?

Lee: You’re probably thinking stuff like, “The Glass Family’ll be embarrassed,” or, “I’ll cause trouble for my sisters,” ain’t cha? You’re hiding your true feelings! It’s written all over your face. I can tell!!

Ama: No tears, now. There’s nothing to be sad about.

Cinder: Umm?

Lee: There’s no need to hold back to the point of crying!

Cinder: What?

Ama: You don’t have to worry about how Cinder is doing in the family, Father. We’re looking after her. Just look at how much her writing has improved.

Amoncio: I…Huh?

Amoncio: *hesitates slightly* I…I want to hear the girl’s opinion!

Ama: *whispers* You’re asking her because you know she can’t refuse if you say she’d cause trouble for us, right? You’re quite the talker for someone who’s not around, aren’t you?

Laura: Amanda, don’t be rude to your father.

Ama: Mother.

Laura: As you can see, Cinder has been diligently adapting herself to the Glass Family day by day. However, it’s true that her feelings on the matter are important. Cinder…What do you wish to do?

Cinder: I…

Cinder: There’s been a lot of things that have confused me since I arrived here…but…that ones who helped me every step of the way…

Cinder: I…want to live in this hotel! I’ll work hard on my studies, so please…

Laura: Incorrect.

Cinder: Huh? Did I get it wrong?

Laura: Cause as much trouble as you want!!!!

Cinder: Mommy?!

Laura: Troubles are inevitable when one interacts with other people…be they related by blood or not! Even so we want to stay by the ones we treasure. Now that the issue has been put to rest, I’m sure your father would still like to see his stepdaughter’s face. Please do try and come home more often, Dear.

Amoncio: But…!

Laura: Or is there some special reason why your need to drag Cinder off with you? For instance…promising one of your “business partners” that Cinder would become an indentured servant?

Lee: Indentured servant?

Ama: Oh…as in. if she promises to work for a set number of years…you can get her wages in advance?

Amoncio: No…that’s…I’ll be taking my leave now as I have business to attend to… *whispers* Girl. Even if Laura and the girls are fine with this…There may be other people who won’t look favorably on you. Come to me if things become too much to bear. I’ll be sure to find a proper place for you, where you’ll be more comfortable. *departs*

Cinder: Stepfather?

TRANSITION

Cinder: Um…Once again, I hope you’ll take care of me from now on.

Lee: Huuuh? Is that really the first thing you should be saying?

Cinder: Should I have apologized for causing them trouble first…or maybe thank them?

Cinder: Um…

Lee: You haven’t said…”Good Morning” yet!!!

Cinder: Huuuuuuh?

Lee: Have you any idea how we felt waking up to your empty bed?!

Cinder Ha…

Ama: Our Sister simply tore through the hotel in search of you.

Cinder: Ha-Wha…

Lee: Look who’s talking, Miss Still-In-Her-PJ’s?!

Cinder: Ha-Wha-Whaaaaa!

Ama: W…Whaaat?! Well, you haven’t even washed your face yet!

Laura: Girls, you’re being far too loud.

Lee: Mama!

Ama: Mother!

Laura: Another normal day is about to start. No need to kick up a fuss.

Lee: Sorry.

Ama: We got too excited...

Cinder: That’s right…I have to be at my best today, too…

Laura: After all, we should prepare for Cinder’s welcome party today! One can never have too many fun events!

Cinder Whoaaaa!

Lee: You’re gonna love it! Miss Faye makes some of the best food around!

Ama: *take Cinder by the shoulders* Come along then, we need to get you ready for your big day.

Cinder: Mother. My new family…is a really warm one.

#rwby #cinder fall #evil stepmother #evil stepsisters #amalee #Amoncio Glass #My Stepmother and Stepsisters Do Not Pick On Me #incorrect quotes

[triggerthreestrikes]

I wanted to write this for a while now. I have two guardian OC’s that I like writing for but haven’t posted anything for one of them yet. A few of my followers may Already know Naomi, (Who has since been re-named Naori) And Trigger. In universe Naori is the YW, whilst Trigger is her friend she met all the way back in the cosmodrome, where they were both resurrected for the first time. Trigger is a hunter with a very bad relationship with grief. His coping mechanisms, are unhealthy at best, incredibly self destructive at worst. He took Cayde’s death hard, but eventually came out of it after some long talks with Naori. He wasn’t nearly as close to Cayde as she was anyway. But Amanda….yeah, with all that was building up pre defiance he was never going to take it well. Story under the cut. TW for Alcoholism and depression, and implied suicidal tendencies.

Trigger took another drink from the third bottle of whiskey that night. He’d been cleared from duty for the next day, and if they called him in? A rez will cure any hangover. Lucinda hadn’t said anything yet, just silently watching him.

He couldn’t tell if it was anger or shame he felt, which only made him feel the need to take another drink.

“Trigger…” she finally said quietly. “It’s been three weeks…three weeks of just…non stop patrols, strikes, crucible, salvage ops on Titan- You need to take time to process everything.” “That’s what I’m doing now aren’t I?” “No. This-” Lucinda nudged the bottle in his hand with her shell. “Is numbing yourself. You can’t keep running away from how you feel about everything.” Trigger barked out a laugh that was anything but mirthful. “Watch me.” He said. He saw the petals of Lucinda’s shell wiggle in annoyance. “If Amanda saw you were drinking again-” “What? She’d yell at me? Call me a damn fool like she did after Tevis died and I did this? Well she won’t. She can’t, because she’s dead. Everything I wanted to say, or do, or make right with her? Never going to happen. Even if we called every ghost not with the damned hive back to her grave, and even if one of ‘em raised the body there? That wouldn’t be her. And I wouldn’t want it to be.” Trigger dropped the now empty bottle in his hand, letting it shatter on the floor. His face dropped into his hands. “Trigger…I didn’t want to do this…but you’re not giving me a choice. Amanda recorded this in case she died and you were…you about it.”

An audio message began to play as Amanda’s voice came through. “Recording? Okay…Trigger, if Lucinda’s playin’ this, it means I’m gone. Hopefully because I was fightin’ and not because I got squished by some new light’s jumpship landing gear. But it also means that you’re Drinking again. Maybe even burying yourself in guardian stuff?” Trigger winced. She knew him well. “Well, if you’re doing that? Knock it off! I get it, even if things between us weren’t…great…because of Ul- Crow, and how I’ve been with him; You can’t keep doin’ this. Not to yourself, and especially not to Lucinda and Naori. Trig, you can’t give in now, They still need you around. I know it ain’t easy, but…forward momentum buddy. For me? I know you’re hurtin’ but folks still need you in tip top shape. You can do it Trig. Be brave, and tell Crow I- I’m sorry. Even if I wasn’t able to work things out, It ain’t his fault. It never was. Alright, I’ve rambled on long enough, and you need time to sober up. Actually sober up, y’hear me? I don’t care about whatever kind of hangover you guardians get bein’ able to drink more than us normals you don’t get out of crawling back into a bottle easily! Get it together friend, I’ll miss ya.”

The message cut off, tears slid down Trigger’s cheeks. “How?” He asked Lucinda. “Where do I even go from here?” “Start by going to sleep. Fix that empty stare. Then? deliver Amanda’s apology to Crow.” “And after that?” “Fight like hell.”

#destiny 2 #destiny #destiny 2 fanfiction #triggerthreewrites #season of the deep #Amanda Holiday #Tw alcoholism

[drevmnotnap]

i will gladly air my thoughts about the drituation Thank You /gen, i’m an adult & a csa survivor for reference on where this perspective is coming from

i left the fandom and don’t really feel ok consuming dream content anymore but for me it isn’t so much about the drituation itself ? it’s about the bullshit i saw from the community in response to it, plus october was so difficult that i just have a hard time seeing any of it

honestly it was some of the mindsets i saw starting to take hold through the community that scared me and pissed me off. i saw people use phrases like “she’s not acting like a victim,” “how do you not realize you’re being groomed until someone tells you?? the math ain’t mathing,” etc. people started poking holes in every piece of her story and background, and watching a perfect victim narrative get spread around felt like a punch in the gut. people even said things along the lines of “guys come on, can dream be a predator? we’re talking about the guy who does the gay run in the rain and uses bath bombs.” like you couldn’t name a million endearing things that any confirmed predator has probably done in their life. the idea that you could use any of those arbitrary things to determine who is or is not a safe person is just…dangerous

sorry this turned out so long yikes i just . have so many thoughts about the lengths the fandom went and the people they hurt along the way. not the whole fandom of course, not even most of it- but enough to make it hard to go back

firstly, i’m really sorry for everything you must have seen— some of the reactions were definitely more than a little icky, for a variety of reasons, and i know there’s no way seeing any of that could be easy.

personally, just to be clear, i don’t think the messages/interactions were indicative of grooming. it’s (at worst, imo) irresponsible, maybe inappropriate considering the specific circumstances, on dream’s part, but famous people having romantic/sexual relationships with fans isn’t exactly unheard of, and i think, in general, there’s a stark difference between grooming and other predatory behavior, and dream’s actions and interactions.

that being said, the community’s reaction (from what i’ve been told + what i’ve taken the time to seek out) was... yeah, it wasn’t pretty. obviously there were people who went straight to “he’s a groomer he needs to be deplatformed” which i don’t think is an accurate view to have (considering what grooming is and the facts we know or can assume/infer to be true), but there was also a shocking number of people who immediately dismissed the claims and even some who did make jokes about it, and that comes off as incredibly insensitive. of course, most reactions were immediate, emotional responses, which explains a lot, but it doesn’t erase how harmful and insensitive it was to survivors/victims. and, yes, saying “how can he be a groomer, he’s so [insert reasons]” is dangerous— it furthers the mindset that people you believe to be innocent and harmless can’t be horrible people, which isn’t always the case, and that mindset is a big reason why so many victims’ stories go unheard and un-believed. i’m not saying it fully applies here (as dream isn’t a groomer/predator), but it does raise concerns about that kind of stuff in the long-run and the bigger picture.

it’s honestly really complicated— especially when it comes to dream— because we can’t just take everything at face value. there are people out there who absolutely would make a false accusation just for the purpose of accusing him and tearing him down. that doesn’t mean, however, that all allegations should be immediately dismissed, especially with an accusation as serious as grooming, and that’s what a lot of people tried to do in the immediate aftermath. i think the most logical course of action would’ve been to assume that amanda’s story was true (or parts of it were, as claimed by dream, correct me if i’m wrong), and then come to realize that it wasn’t grooming and/or predatory from there, instead of trying to deny its validity right off the bat by making jokes or by trying to find holes in her story. i know a lot of the reactions were formed around big-name blogs who then reacted negatively— red, hari, dwtupdates on twt, etc.— and that caused misinformation and “dream is a groomer!”s to spread, so that explains some of it, but yeah it’s still really complicated.

anyway, to close this out, it’s totally valid of you to have left! i know i only stayed because, well, i have a lot of fun here and i genuinely do enjoy dream’s (+ dteam’s) content, but i don’t blame or judge anyone for leaving. unless they’re one of the people who switched up drastically and started saying they hate dream + he’s ugly + his music sucks + kaceytrn was on the right side of history + all the other shit out there, but that’s a very different conversation.

#tl;dr he isn’t a groomer just irresponsible; some reactions from the community were rushed and therefore insensitive to survivors/victims; #i think if ppl took the time to think logically/rationally instead of being chronically online and being obsessed with having the “correct” #opinion and response things would have turned out much differently. #and obviously anyone using this as an opportunity to bash dream uncaring of the victims they hurt in the process are assholes #hopefully this made sense i’ve been trying to answer this for a while. i’m not that happy with how it came out but i can’t word it any #better than this #anon <3 #dream situation #drituation #idk what tags ppl r using #discourse

[blondrichclosetwitch]

Your devotion has the look of a lunatic’s gaze

I don’t want to see it end

I’m gonna take you by surprise

Amanda

Harmony 3

You don’t know what you’re missing now

Any little song that you know

Everything that’s small has to grow and it’s gonna grow now

Johnny makes me feel strangely good about myself

God’s not finished

V2-world war rocket

I wish I could tell her this is who she’s gonna be

And I never stepped on the cracks because I thought I’d hurt my mother

And I couldn’t awake from the nightmare that sucked me in and pulled me under

I’d be but the slave to you

I wonder who I have to blow around here to get a head

Watching everything is the thing that eventually kills you dead;

Stop now, you are not well, don’t you see? and I say goodbye this time

Time for you now to open up your eyes and realize you ain’t coming down

You don’t know just what we’ve done, we can’t give it away, we’ve been working much too hard

Tbh no idea what fuck & run is

More names to come

To please the old, the secondary

The things I said to you were true.

Don’t touch the sleeping pills

I can’t help but pull the earth around me to make my bed

And don’t let the curtain catch you, because you’ve been here before

And the water is coming in fast

Hey, I’ve been fucked up, and I’ve been a fool

This river is bigger than I am

Hey mama, meet me near the moon

 Who the fuck do you think you are?

Get your dirty fingers out of my hair

I’m free, you’ll see



#djmagictree #508h 3 min

[rreskk]

North Yankton Trevor smut. Reader meets Trevor at a strip-joint and he favours her and fucks her doggy style in the dark corner (still in view). Bonus if he's wearing a leather jacket.

Thank you!

NORTH YANKTON TREVOR>>>>> I also included this request down below (As I wanted to merge the two ideas).

Summary: Deep in the North-West, Trevor was growing a bit lonely after his best-friend had found a girl. But he met this lovely waitress and... Well, he got to know her pretty fast.

TW: -Smut

Word count: 4050

Pairings: Fem!reader/Trevor Philips

“Do we really have to see Amanda again?” Trevor muttered as he was dragged into the strip-joint by his best pal, his partner in crime; Michael Townley.

Ever since his friend had caught eyes on a woman (this stripper and prostitute), he grew bored and quite alone. Strip-clubs used to be fun when he had friends who joined him with all the private dances, etc… Now it was just him, and occasionally Brad, but he was unavailable tonight.

“What? You love this place.” Responded Michael. He was simply too smitten to notice Trevor’s distaste of his new girl.

“Yeah, used to.”

“Whatever, bro. I don’t know why you’re mad, I’m paying for your drinks and dances.”

“Oh, yeah. That makes everything much better, Mikey.”

“Don’t Mikey me you little shi – “ Townley was cut off when a feminine voice called his name. Amanda had emerged from the staff room door with a smile. He immediately left Trevor’s side and followed her into the office to presumably fuck (just in a more private manner).

“Fuckin’ Townley.” He’d mumble under his breath and just stroll around the strip-joint. He had zero interest in the women working here. He was merely under the weather, sad, annoyed.

There was a table tucked away in the corner. Luckily the cleaners hadn’t of found it yet so Trevor eased onto the seat and helped himself to the leftover beers and chicken wings. He rubbed the grease onto his leather jacket before gulping the rest of his drink and watched the surrounding strippers move their hips sensually on the stage. Normally he’d be so turned on by this, but he felt nothing.

Trevor frowned and glared down at his crotch. He tried to touch himself through his jean trousers, trying to at least feel something.

“C’mon, you sack of shit.” He huffed and unzipped his flies.

Pulling out his cock, it wasn’t even erected. It just lied softly in his palm. It was pathetic. It made him mad. He wanted to be horny, he wanted to have fun, but here he was… Drinking cheap, leftover beer and wishing he was somewhere else; someone else.

“Excuse me,” A voice interrupted him, “Are you alright?”

Trevor glanced up from his exposed dick and saw you. He squinted his eyes with irritation before ogling your body and figure. There was a random spurt of energy that triggered him. Trevor winced when he caught a reaction from his cock, seeing it levitate slightly.

Even the sight of you was fixing his satisfaction.

“Hey.” He’d respond with a cruel smirk. Many ideas troubled his mind, all revolving around the thought of using you.

“Would you like some drinks?” You’d ask, innocently standing there with some dirty plates and glasses.

Trevor hummed as he thought about it. He nibbled at his bottom lip with concentration before nodding.

“A good beer would be nice, sugar.”

You nodded and went to retreat his cold beverage when he spoke again.

“Are you working here all night?”

“Oh, uh, yes. My shift ends up 4am.” You smiled.

“Ahh… Good, good to know, dear,” He had tucked away his dick, dismissing you with a hand, “Better get to it, girl. The beer ain’t gonna serve by itself.”

You’d apologetically nod, clearly intimated by his brisk orders. It was your job to tend the customers but this guy made you nervous. Many years at this joint, many… Yet he had made your skin crawl.

“Your service is greatly appreciated, sweetheart.” Trevor announced after you returned with his beer. The glass hadn’t of reached the table in time as he snatched it from your hand and gulped.  

“That will be… Uh – “ You were going to pass him the check but he ignored it.

The background music was loud, as always, so you repeated yourself a bit louder. And when you did, he just glared at you.

“I heard you the first time, sweetie. I ain’t paying with cash.”

Bold, you assumed. Very bold.

“I’m sorry sir, but we don’t take credit – “

“I ain’t paying with credit, either.”

“What?” He had left you confused.

Trevor finished his pint and wiped the foam from his stache before grinning at you. He leaned forward, his leather jacket squeaking against the slippery table surface.

“My friends payin’ after he’s done with his girl. Would you mind waitin’ until then?” His tone was all soft, nothing like he was a second ago.

“Oh! Yes, of course. Sorry for the misunderstanding, sir.”

“Don’t sweat it… But before you run off and do your thing, I need to know your name...”

You stared at him with discomfort; too shy to say anything.

“For my friend to pay.” He grinned after making you look stupid.

“Ah… Aha…” It was lucky the place was dark considering you were beginning to sweat profoundly, “The name is [y/n], sir. Would you like me to write it down?”

“Nah. I’ll remember.”

“Well, I hope you enjoy the rest of your night.”

“Could I ask for another favour, [y/n]?” The way he said your name was so… Spiteful, mean, but compassionate and alluring. You nodded and he raised a hand, pointing to the backrooms where the dances were placed.

“The private dancers? Would you like me to find you a worke – “

“I don’t want no random worker, sweetheart,” He scowled when you made a quick assumption, “I’m wondering if you work alongside them.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you.”

“Oh, I – Umm… I’m not working alongside them, sorry…”

“Really?” Trevor looked surprised, “Why not? You are gorgeous. I guess that means you don’t know a lady called Amanda? Ugly, fat, annoying face and voice?”

“No, no, I don’t, sir.”

“Shame… My guy is back there with her. He’s probably deep inside her pussy by now and he’s just left me all alone…”

You cleared your throat, “That’s not nice – “

“No, it ain’t. Friends don’t leave each other, and I consider you a friend, [y/n]. You wouldn’t leave your good old Trev, right?”

“Trev?”

“Oh!” He cackled, “That’s right, I didn’t introduce myself… Where’s my manners, ay?” It was like he was purposely wasting your time.

“Oh, what’s your name?”

“Trevor Philips, sugar. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He held out his hand, an offer for a handshake.

You took it, hesitantly. The skin to skin contact was breathtaking. His skin was rough, scabby, smothered with wounds. You were careful not to directly touch a cut as it looked quite painful. Nonetheless, his grip was heavy. Trevor squeezed your hand until he sat back into his seat and ruffled up his mullet.

“You too…” You’d whisper and look down at the hand he just touched. You still felt his skin linger against yours.

“Well? Why don’t you sit?”

“Huh?”

Trevor looked at you through his eyebrows and pointed to the seat beside him. He said only one word that made you comply, and he said it in a meaty, low, grainy croak.

“Sit.”

When you did sit, he didn’t seem to like how stiff and uncomfortable you were.

“What’s wrong with you? I don’t bite, sugar.”

“Oh,” You avoided eye-contact, “I’m just supposed to be working.”

“And? Say you’re on break. You get a 30 minute break, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You already had a break today?”

“No, sir.”

He smirked and placed an arm around your shoulders, “Then you’re on break right now, ay? I need some company anyway.”

“I’d need to tell my manager firs – “

“No, you don’t. You don’t need to tell your manager shit, [y/n]. Just stay here, I can entertain your 30 minute break…”

“Sir, I really ought to tell him – “ Every time you had the opportunity to explain how your shift really works, he just throws it down.

“Call me Trevor, sweetie. I ain’t a customer anymore, I’m your friend. Get used to it. I might even make your 30 minutes freedom into a 45, if you’re lucky.” He’d wink.

“Right… Trevor, hah… Uh, there’s just a paper I have to sign when I’m starting my break. All I need to do is sign it.”

Trevor scoffed, “Fine. Sign it then. But don’t take long, I get angry when I’m lonely.”

You gulped and nodded before rushing away.

He watched you leave with a pout. However, his mood quickly changed when noticing his raging boner from his conversation with you. He smiled. He finally felt horny. He really feels it straining in his pants. Trevor subtly stroked his bulge and whimpered when it was sensitive and throbbing.

Now he just needed you to… Cure this occurring illness that’s affecting his well-being.  

“Townley better not finish before I’m done with her.” He grumbled and straighten his posture when he saw you returning. Your hips swayed naturally and your eyes drawn him in. Trevor inhaled and saved himself from being too direct.

“I hope I wasn’t long.” You sat down beside him and adjusted your skirt so it covered your ass when sitting.

“You know…” He studied your facial features, “If I were your manager, I’d put you on the stage. You’re beautiful.”

A small gush of red covered your cheeks. He was still analysing you. It felt pressuring and when you made eye-contact, you’ve come to identify small details about him as well… Like that eyebrow scowl, lip scar, the jaunting cheekbones and sharp jawline. He was handsome. You never took strong insights since he scared you from the start, yet he was oddly attractive despite the rugged state of his hair, clothes, and just overall behaviour. He was nothing but a lost cause.

“Like what you see?” Trevor purred.

Cat caught your tongue? Badly. You instantly looked down in shame, trying to make an excuse for your staring.

“Don’t be shy, [y/n]. It’s not in your job contract to be shy to customers.” He cruelly giggled.

“I thought you were a friend, not a customer.”

“Ohhhh… There she is, the star of the show. Mmm, God, love me a friend in need…”

“Huh?” You blinked.

“Oh, you heard me. I ain’t gonna waste my precious time beating around the bush when I can be buried in your bush in no time, ay?” Trevor smirked.

Your heart rapidly increased. He was still staring at you. He was watching you fluster and squirm in your seat. This guy, this fucking guy. The audacity! You wanted to kick him out, you wanted to kick him out personally, you wanted to kick him into your own bedroom –

“Wooaahh, hello? Earth to [y/n]!”

He shook your shoulder, sitting closer than you remembered.

“Whatcha thinkin’ of?”

“Nothing, nothing.” You tried to dismiss.

“Oh yeah? You got me curious, dear. C’mere, I gotta a bit of an… Issue and you’re the gal for it.” He murmured in your ear, eyes darting around the room like he was hoping the area could clear off.

“What’s the issue?”

Trevor cackled, “Ah, it’s a bit of a sticky situation, my [y/n]. I came here for some fun, as every guy does, and… I didn’t really find any of these lovely ladies interesting.”

You nodded at his words.

“But, oh man… When I saw you, I developed this crazy itch, almost like an ache. It’s a real shame you ain’t dancing for customers because that could honestly be the cure. It is your duty to provide good customer care, right? It’s only a little bit of extra work, maybe I can use my buddies money to throw cash your way.”

You weren’t naive, by all means, you understood what he meant, but… Can you even accept? He was a stranger, a scary one. He left you bombarded with possibilities and “what ifs”.

“It ain’t rocket science, [y/n]. I’m just asking a gal like yourself to help relieve me.” He caught onto your train of thoughts and urged you to accept.

So you sighed, “That is a… Big request, Trevor.”

“You’ll enjoy it as much as I will. It’s mutual effort, sugar.”

“No, I know what you mean. I don’t know… It would be inappropriate.”

“For what? For who? No one gotta watch, only me,” He frowned, “We can go out back or in that dark corner. I’ve noticed no one goes around there, only security and they are out front, right?”

You nodded.

“So what’s the deal? C’mon… You’re a fuckin’ beauty. You don’t understand how refreshing it is to feel so turned on, girl. It’s been fuckin’ days since I’ve had a good jack off or fuck.”

He mentioned giving you extra cash, well, his friend. The pay here was already bad enough and rent was due, so you looked at him in the eye and just nodded.

“Is that a yes?” Trevor smiled.

“I suppose so. Yes. What if your friend comes back? You said he was out back, customers don’t stay there for lon – “

“He ain’t a customer. He’s pining for that fat stripper I was talkin’ about, Amanda. They are together. He usually stays in there for some time, don’t worry, hotstuff. Besides… It’s only a quickie, unless you feel God-like and I have to include a round 2… That’s when your break turns into a 45 minute fuckfest, ay?” God, he was intense with his directness.

“Ohh…” You blushed and glanced down at your hands that were anxiously shaking.

He took them into his own and caressed your palm. He had shuffled a bit closer now, his thigh touching yours.

“What do you look like without a skirt on, anyway?” Trevor whispered in your ear and smirked when you shivered.

He placed your hand down before teasingly fondling your leg, slowly approaching your thigh where the hem of your skirt lied. He tickled your skin until you squirmed.

“Trevor – “ A flustered laugh escaped your red lips.

“I know, I know. I want it too, but first… Can you tease me, sweetheart? I like my women to… Torment me, my dick’s hard but it can be harder…”

“Of course, Trevor.”

“That’s right. I’m easy to please, so do whatever your sexy heart desires.” He leaned back and made sure no one was around, signalling you to begin.

Even though he was the only one watching, it felt like a whole audience. You’d gulp at the thought of so many options open. You wondered what sort of “major” turn on he had, so you thought hard. Reminiscing about your conversation with him, his eyes were constantly peeling on your chest and skirt. It was the most safest option, you couldn’t do something outrageous, especially for a guy like him.

As you decided, you’d give him a little boob tease. Trevor was hunched against his seat with a giddy grin. He went dead silent as you slowly dragged down your shirt collar until the sight of your bra was on display. You’d stroke the top, occasionally moving the bra so a nipple would make an appearance.

He whispered to himself, “Ohh, yeah…” And held a hand over his clothed crotch.

Surprisingly, his low groans were delightful to hear. It encouraged you to carry on earning these non-direct praises. Soon, you had taken off your shirt, your bra draped around your arms, breasts fully on display. Teasing your own nipple, spitting on your left boob, licking whatever you could reach. Every time you looked up, he was intensely focussed. Trevor was aroused beyond belief.

“Keep going…” He’d slur with lust.

That left one other thing to tease with. Your pussy.

It was like you could hear him scream at you. Your fingers tangled with the hem of your skirt, slowly pulling it up to reveal your panties. Trevor had to restrain himself from ruining this foreplay. He wanted you to have fun before it was his turn to play. Yet when he watches you carefully rub your thumb through your underwear, he was already leaking pre-cum with anticipation.

“Fuckin’ finger yourself.” Growled his monotonal, grouchy voice.

“Oh…” You breathed and kicked off your panties. The table, from beside the booth, covered whatever you were beginning to do, so if anyone were to approach, you were only seen shirtless (which was fairly normal in a strip club).

“God, you got such a hot cunt.”

The sight of your pussy fascinated Trevor. You pestered your clit with a finger and gasped out a quiet moan. Now your body was shaking. The clit was so sensitive, so easy to make you break. He studied how your legs jerked whenever you applied more pressure to your finger, aching the poor sector of your pussy.

“Good… Good, nice…” He’d praise.

“Mhm, it feels so nice,” You whimpered to him, “Oh, God…”

“I wanna see you squirt, [y/n], then I’ll see what I can do.”

You wanted more compliments. While you were fingering your clit, an itchy urge to clench onto your breasts were huge. You couldn’t help but slump against the leather sit that touched your bare back. It was so smooth, it reminded you of his jacket. You imagined lying against him, the leather seat being his jacket, pretending that your finger was his. Even though he was beside you, the fantasy had made you finger yourself faster.

“Ohhhh…” Your breath was shaky and threatening to break.

“I love the way you touch your tits, baby.” Trevor grunted, his hand grinding his clothed erection hard.  

“Trevor, ah… Oh, I’m gonna – “

“You better cum on your fingers and lick it. C’mon, show me, I want see.”

“M’kay, baby.” You whined and carried on tormenting your clit until your orgasm was approaching. Arching your back against the leather seat, you cried his name and squirted all over your fingers and hand.

Trevor whistled at your intense climax. His eyes were deadly peeled on the finger that was smothered in cum. His mouth twitched into a sly smirk when you began licking it. He wanted to how good you liked the taste, waiting for you to lick the other fingers.

“Mmmm,” Slurping noises echoed from your booth, “So tasty…”

“Oh, I bet. Your pussy still wet, darling?”

You nodded at him.

“Yeeahhh… That’s what I like to hear. Alright, sugar, I want you to stand up and bend over.”

“Just bend over?”

Trevor giggled and grabbed your jaw with just one hand. He forced you to stare at him as he ordered you more.

“Just bend over on the table, sexy. I’ll take it from there. You don’t have to do a damn thing… Yeah?”

It was weird having a guy not want you to do all these fetishes, dance moves, poses. You were used to seeing strippers cope hard when pleasuring a man. You had a feeling that maybe Trevor wasn’t as bad as you thought.

Your hips were handled and he helped you stand up. Despite being naked, he made you feel comfortable by taking off his leather jacket and draping it around your shoulders. The material set you off. It cuddled your naked skin, pleasuring you without the meaning of penetration. You wanted to thank him but he had already bent you over, the sound of his flies being unzipped.

“I’m gonna make sure Mikey pays you double since you’re being such a good girl for me, sugar.” He praised and kissed the back of your neck before pushing his penis into your vagina from the back. A small whimper escaped his mouth, a sense of relief washing over now that he has you intimately.

“Oh!” You gasped.

“God, your pussy is so wet and loose, you horny little thing, ay? I’m gonna love you…” Trevor thrusted in and out repeatedly.

“Trevor! Ah!”

“Moan a little louder for me, baby, I love your voice.”

“But… But… Oh, fuck!” You cried and dropped your head as he rammed in and out of your pussy, his hips crashing against your ass.

“Keep your head up!” A hand tugged on your hair, throwing it back with a painful cry. Trevor kept his hand there, not letting go. You were moaning profoundly, all these new sensations (that men previously has never given you).

“It’s so good, It’s so good…”

“Ain’t that right?”

“Trevor, fuck… Ah!”

“Who would’ve thought that 20 minutes ago, you were refusing to sit with me.” He giggled and thrusted rapidly. The table shook as you were constantly being rammed against it with great force and power.

His leather jacket – that he made you wear – caused you great heat. You didn’t want to take it off, you refuse. Whenever it was slipping down your arm and back, you’d clench onto it like it would kill you to drop it. It smelt like him as well. Pure cigarettes, weed, booze, and sex.

You were familiar with the scent since the strip-joint was always intoxicated with it.

“You’re so hot wearing my jacket, [y/n]. So fuckin’ hot… God, I’m one lucky guy! Oh, mmm! So good! I just slide right into your slutty cunt, babe. I love it easy and sore.”

“I’m gonna cum! – “

“Easy, princess, easy… I don’t want my waitress done yet, from what I remember… You… Ah… You still got 10 minutes of your break.” He’d pant throughout his words, sometimes pausing to moan.

“Shit, shit…” You gripped onto the table with full intensions of leaving red marks on your hands. Whenever you attempted to lean forward, he pulled your hair back again.

“Keep your fuckin’ head up, [y/n]. I wanna see you moan.”

“I’m tryi – fuck…”

“This is gonna be the best orgasm of my…” Trevor inhaled sharply, “Mmmm, gonna cum, sugar. I’m gonna fuckin’ cum… Shit…”

“Faster, please!” You whined.

You could feel him smirk at your suggestion. Trevor leaned closer, his chest hitting your back, his thrusts growing more heavier and quicker. He was grunting with every hit of your cunt.

“Trevor… Trevor…”

“I’m gonna cum on the jacket and you better keep it, [y/n]. Fuckin’ wear it whenever I next come back here – “ Was the last thing he tried to say before heaving out an exhausting moan, his cock twitching. He managed to pull out in time to squirt his semen all on the leather jacket you wore. Even though it was landing on material, you felt the sensation of something liquid being poured.

“YES, AAHAH!” He moaned as his dick kept on throwing cum at your back. He had heard you whimper and shudder seconds after his ejaculation.

Trevor grew curious and leaned down, checking your pussy and noticing actual cum drip like water droplets. He smirked and lowered his head further before licking away the fluids from your cunt with his wet tongue.

It made you gasp his name, your legs trembling.

“You were right, your cum is fuckin’ tasty.” He’d remark before ascending from under you.

“Ahh…”

“Mhm, you deserve at least $50 for your service tonight, honey.” Trevor groaned and rubbed your naked stomach, kissing down your neck.

“When… When are you gonna come back?”

“Whenever my fuckwit of a bud decides to see his lady during workhours again. Probably sooner than later, [y/n]. And remember – “

“Keep the jacket on.” You weakly said with a smile, proud to have understood his request.

“Atta girl. Don’t wash it either. Wait until that cum stain dries out.” He nibbled your jaw.

“Thanks for letting me keep it…” You cuddled yourself, feeling the leather from it’s sleeves.

“Anything for a beautiful woman, and perfect waitress.”

Doors opened from opposite room, both of you peering over your shoulders. A guy, buzz-cut, jersey jacket, a hand-full of cash. You thought it was a regular customer before Trevor moved away from you.

“There he is, Mikey.”

“That’s your friend?”

“Indeed it is,” He kept a hand on your shoulder, “Stay here. I’ll get the cash.”

You watched Trevor stroll over to his friend before “taking” the load of cash from his hands. That’s an understatement. You cringed when he ignorantly stole it, ignoring Mikey’s cries.

“Enjoy yourself, sweetheart.” Proposed Trevor, shoving the money into your hands until he walked off again, without a goodbye.

Being left leaning on this wooden table with a sore pussy, lack of clothes, cum-stained leather jacket? Hmm, you can’t wait to see his face again.

“Trevor Philips…” You murmured to no one in general, “Well, at least I won’t forget him.” And continued with your shift.

#grand theft auto 5 #trevor philips #gta v #grand theft 5 #grand theft auto #gta 5 #trevor gta #grand theft auto v #trevor philips/reader #trevor philips x reader #trevor philips fanfiction #trevor philips headcanons #trevor philips/you #trevorphilips #grandtheftauto5 #grandtheftauto #my fanfiction #my fanfic writing #requests #thank you!

[newsiesarchive]

FF.Net Back Up: Christmas Wishes by Melanie Miller

Originally Published Dec. 17, 1999

Amanda and Spot discover that getting through the holidays can be hard. SEQUEL TO HIGH SOCIETY.

Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Romance - Words: 7,776 - Reviews: 9 - Favs: 2 - Published: Dec 17, 1999 - id: 5332

Christmas Wishes

By Melanie Miller

"Deck the halls with boughs of holly," sang Amanda Coldrine as she walked into the restaurant, finally home from a long day at school. Amanda lived with her aunt in Brooklyn. She originally came from a high class family in Vermont, and was sent to New York to attend a girls' school in Manhattan. Although she had been miserable her first few weeks in New York, Brooklyn was now Amanda's home. "Mandy? Dat you?" Aunt Josephine called from the kitchen/ "It's freezin' out, come warm yerself back heah by da fire." Aunt Josephine looked at her niece, clad in a pretty black watch cloak with a navy muff and smart navy hat. Amanda had been so unhappy at foirst, thought Aunt Jo. Course, den she met Spot Conlon, the old lady smiled. Spot was Amanda's boyfriend, and the leader of the Brooklyn newsies. Amanda's best friends were all newsies, especially a girl named Katrin from Manhattan. "Aunt Jo, I'm so glad school's out for Christmas break!" Amanda hugged her aunt. "But guess what? I have the loveliest news. Sarah Craver, my friend from school, is hosting a Christmas party." Amanda's blue eyes glowed with happiness. "I love parties, especially Christmas parties. They'll be dancing,and wonderous food, and it'll be truly divine!" Aunt Josephine looked at her niece. "A party? Is dis a high class t'ing? I ain't nevah heard ah dancin' parties and such." "Oh, Aunt Josephine, it's positively wonderful. I hosted one last Christmas, in Vermont," Amanda took of her wet wraps and hung them by the fire to dry. She was in her pretty dark navy wool dress, rather plainly trimmed, but Amanda was a stunning beauty in it. "It's only days away as well. I can hardly wait. Here's the invitation." Amanda held out a piece of paper to her aunt. Aunt Jo picked up the fine paper with beautiful writing. "Cain't read it, too fancy fer da likes ah me." Amanda took the paper and read it outloud. "The family of Sarah Elizabeth Craver cordially invites you and an escort to a Christmas festivity," Amanda clearly shivered with excitement. "It's Christmas Eve." "Wow, Amanda, sounds fancy coirtainly," Aunt Josephine whistled. "What's an escort mean?" "Oh, that's simple. A boy to escort you, dance with you. The reason you do that is because the girls all need someone to dance with," Amanda explained. "Between you and me, it's probably because Sarah doesn't know enough boys to invite, so it's easier to have each girl bring one." "Who'll ya take?" Aunt Jo asked. "You don't know any high class boys, do you?" Amanda smirked. "Aunt Josephine, I'll take Spot of course!" Aunt Jo frowned. "Now, Mandy, t'ink about dis. You can't take Spot ta dat. Spot's like me, he's Brooklyn. And Brooklyn ain't high society." Amanda's face dropped, but Aunt Josephine figured she had better finish what she had started. "He'd eithah refuse ta go er be embarressed cose he couldn't." "But, Aunt Jo, we do everything together! I'm Spot's girl you know," she reminded her aunt proudly. The bell on the door tinkled as someone walked in the restaurant. "Oh, Mandy, go git dat customer. You can take off yer school clothes in a minute, alright?" Aunt Josephine realized that they had been talking for quite a time. Part of Amanda's arrangement in Brooklyn was that she helped out in the restaurant Aunt Josephine ran every day.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Occhino," Amanda greeted the elderly woman who stopped for tea every day at the restaurant. "What can I get you?" she asked, but she was already writing down an order for a cup of tea -not too strong, and a turkey sandwich. As Amanda turned to leave, the door opened again. Standing there was a tall, thin boy with light brown hair and intense blue eyes. "Good afternoon, Spot," Amanda greeted him, smiling. "Heya, Manders," Spot called her by his special nickname for her. "Spot, come on back to the kitchen, I have to put an order in," Amanda explained. Spot followed her. "Miss Josephine, how's it rollin?" Spot asked as they entered the back room. "Alright meself, Spot. What brings you heah?" Aunt Jo smiled, knowing full well that her niece had brought Spot Conlon to visit again. "Well, I'se wonderin' if Amanda can come ice skatin' wit me. The lake's finally frozen in Central Park, so I heah from da boidies in Manhattan," Spot smiled at Amanda. "Manders has been talkin' 'bout dis ice skatin' since October, figured we'd bettah go and enjoy it," he said as he took her hand in his. Amanda smiled at Aunt Jo. "Please, may I go? It's Friday night," Amanda pleaded. Aunt Jo sighed. "Alright, but Amanda go change and bundle up. It's cold out dere. Take da trolley, will ya Spot? It's too cold ta walk ta Manhattan." Spot nodded in agreement. Amanda hurried upstairs pulling on extra layers of clothing. She was excited Spot had remembered, and impressed that he cared that much. She was fortunate her mother had sent her the two pair of skates that she had back in Vermont. She figured one pair would fit Spot perfectly, it was her brother's at one time, before he moved out west. But Aunt's Jo's comments had disturbed her. What if Spot didn't want to go? Amanda sighed, very upset. She refused to let it upset her, and resolved not to think about it anymore. "I'm ready!" Amanda bounded down the stairs. Spot grabbed the skates, and they said goodbye to Aunt Jo and walked, Spot's arm around her, to the trolley station.

Spot and Amanda sat on a bench by the skating pond. They had skated for over three hours, and were now keeping warm together, cuddling and kissing on the bend. "Hey, break it up," a voice tapped spot on the shoulder. He pulled away from his kiss with Amanda. "Oh, heya Katrin, Blink," Amanda smiled at her friends. "Looks like you too are busy," Kid Blink teased, grinning. "Wouldn't mind bein' busy like dat." Katrin blushed and kissed Blink on the cheek. "We'd figured you'd be heah," Blink said as they sat next to the other couple. As much as Spot hated to admit it, the four were very close friends. But, as Spot said to Amanda, Blink knew who was boss. "Why's that, Kid?" asked Spot. Kid Blink smiled. "Oh, gee, Amanda's only been talkin' 'bout her skates since November!" "I love skating," Amanda smiled. "I love Christmas, too. We're even getting a tree for the restaurant, it'll be so lovely. You're still all coming for Christmas dinner, right?" Blink and Katrin nodded. Spot tightened his arms around her, saying, "I wouldn't miss it fer da woirld." She kissed him again. "Hey, yous wanna go fer a walk wit us?" Katrin asked, hating to interrupt the kissing couple. "Actually, 'bout time I get Amanda home," Spot stood up. "T'anks anyway, Katrin." The four went their separate ways, Blink and Katrin continuing through the park, Spot and Amanda walking to the trolley station.

"Oh, Spot, I almost forgot," Amanda gasped while they were on the trolley. "Guess what? My friend Sarah from school is having a Christmas party on the twenty-fourth, and I've been invited with an escort." Spot looked confused. "Uh, dat's great, Manders." Amanda realized he didn't understand. "Spot, you'll be my escort, won't you?" "I don't think so," Spot said slowly. Amanda didn't listen. "Oh, Spot, it'll be grand! Parties are wonderful, and the dancing will be-" Spot cut Amanda off. "Amanda Coldrine, I ain't goin' ta do dat ta you. Take someone who fits in wit dem muckety-mucks." He realized he sounded harsh. Spot was upset. He loved Amanda dearly, but he would only embarress her. Besides, he couldn't dance anyway. "Spot? What do you mean?" "Manders, I love you. But I ain't 'bout ta make a fool ah meself. I don't dance, what would I wear? Don't make sense. Take someone else," Spot told her. Amanda's eyes brimmed with tears. "Why can't you do this for me? It's Christmas, Spot Conlon!" "Listen, I ain't goin'." Spot helped Amanda off the trolley. She snatched her skates, leaving him with the other pair. "Save it, Spot Conlon. I can walk home myself. I thought you would at least try to come. But I can see I'm not really that important to you." Amanda turned and left, furious. Spot called her name, but she didn't turn around. Stupid goil, he thought to himself. She's mad at me, but she don't understand. I don't fit in wit hoir friends. It's easy fer hoir ta be a newsie, but it ain't easy fer me ta be high class. He sighed. Even the great Spot Conlon couldn't handle Amanda Coldrine at times.

Amanda walked into the restaurant, frozen tears on her face. She sat down at the closest table, feeling like her whole world had fallen down. "What happened?" Aunt Josephine was wiping down the tables. "Where's Spot?" "You were right, Aunt Josephine. I never should have asked him to escort me," Amanda laid her head down on a table. Aunt Jo's harsh words from before disapeered when she noticed the tears. "Honey, he don't know no beddah. I didn't mean it." "Spot did," Amanda cried harded. "What am I going to do? I yelled at him in the most disgraceful manner. I ruined everything." Aunt Josephine grabbed her coat. "I only knowed one t'ing that can make it better. We'se goin' ta Manhattan, cose Katrin'll know how ta handle dis beddah than an old spinster aunt." Amanda followed her aunt out the door, still shedding tears. They took the same trolley line back into Manhattan, and walked together to the Lodging House. "Aunt Jo," Amanda said quietly, still not having completely regained her composure. "I'll probably spend the night here. Thank you," she kissed her aunt's cheek. "There, there. You go inside and git warm, and tell dose boys I said 'ello," Aunt Jo turned and went home to Brooklyn, knowing that her niece would be well taken care of. "Hey Kloppman," the girl greeted the old man. "Is Katrin here?" Kloppman nodded. "Listen, I may stay... would you like me to pay for the night?" "Miss Amanda, as usual, you'se always a guest here," the old man's eyes twinkled at her. "Mandy!" Mush called from the staircase. "Mandy, what's wrong? Ya look upset." He came over to the girl and hugged her. Amanda began crying again, not sure where to begin. "We'll go inta da goils room, dere's no one in dere now," Mush said. "I'll git Katrin and Blink." Mush nodded to Racetrack. "Get Katrin and Blink now, Race. Hurry. Tell 'em Amanda's heah." "Mush, I don't know what to do. I don't kniow!" Amanda wiped her eyes she sat on a bunk. Katrin, Blink, and Racetrack appeared at the door, then entered, Blink closing the door. "Amanda? What's wrong?" Katrin pushed her way past Mush and sat next to Amanda. Mush moved down, sitting on the floor. Blink and Race sat on the bunk opposite Amanda and Katrin. "Oh, it's terrible, I've really done it this time," Amanda sobbed. "We're over." "Spot?" asked Racetrack as he lit a cigar. Amanda nodded. "Oh, no, what's he done?" Katrin was first to take her best friend's side. "He hasn't done anything. It's only me. But-" she suddenly noticed Mush, Kid Blink, and Racetrack hanging on every word she said. "Katrin," she whispered. "Awright, boys, beat it. I'se got ta tawk wit Mandy alone," Katrin pushed the boys out the door. The boys protested, but left the two girls in peace. "Katrin, it's awful. You know Sarah from school?" Amanda asked. Katrin wrinkled her nose at the mention of the girl, but nodded. "She's having a Christmas party. And I was invited. Katrin, you know how I love fancy parties." "So what's da problem, and how does dis relate ta Spot?" asked Katrin, confused. "The invitation requested me to bring an escort. I asked Spot, but he said no, he wouldn't go or dance or anything. Aunt Josephine says he was embarressed, but I just feel awful. I yelled at him terribly, and lost my temper." The tears flowed freely down the girl's face. Katrin frowned in her quiet way. "You listen ta me, Amanda Coldrine. I say dat if Spot Conlon loves you, which he does, den he'd go. He loves ya for soire. But," Katrin's eyes gleamed. "I t'ink da bum can't dance. I ain't nevah seen 'im dance at Medda's or anyt'ing." "So? Perhaps he doesn't like it," sniffed Amanda. Katrin's eyes lit up. "Nah, Amanda dat boy would do jist about anyt'ing fer you. Except look like a fool. Ya know what Mandy?" "What?" Katrin smiled largely, a grin she had picked up from Kid Blink. "I'd bet me reputation as a newsie dat Spot Conlon can't dance. And I betcha I can change it."

Spot stormed into the Brooklyn Lodging House, slamming the door behind him. "Spot?" Manser looked at him quizically, the only newsie who would dare speak to the leader of Brooklyn when he was clearly in a rage. "Not'in' Manser, mind yer own buisness," Spot snarled. He went into his small room and sat on the bottom bunk, leaving the poker game to continue. He put his head into his hands. What is Amanda t'inking? He asked himself mentally. I ain't going ta any fancy party as an escort. Said it once, and I'se sayin' it again -she's too high class fer ya, Spot Conlon. She needs someone who kin take her to da theater, to parties. He looked at the skates in his hands, left by Amanda. Someone who actually owns his own pair ah skates, he thought sadly. "But I love hoir," he said outloud, quietly. He slammed his first against the bed. "Damn! Why does it hafta be so difficult?" Spot wished there was soeone he could talk to about this. Finally, he called Manser into his room. Manser entered pensively and closed the door quietly. "Spot, you ok?" he asked apprehensively. "Manser, I need ta tawk wit you. You'se my second in command, so I trust ya not ta spread dis around. Er else," Spot threatened. "Ya won't do anyt'ing stupid, roight?" "Soire t'ing boss. I'se always heah fer ya ta tawk to. What's da problem?" Manser sat on the chair Spot had in his room. "It's Amanda." Spot said. Manser's eyes flickered. He had met Spot's pretty, upperclass girlfriend several times, and really thought she was a wonderful person. He had never seen Spot this serious about any girl, and hoped Spot wasn't pulling his normal tricks. "What's wrong?" Spot shifted his position. "See, Christmas is comin', and Manders got invited ta dis party." "Ya ain't jealous, Spot?" Manser said, not too quickly, making sure he didn't offend Spot. "She's devoted completely ta ya, I t'ink." Spot grimaced. "She wants me ta escort hoir. Me. Spot Conlon, leader ah da Brooklyn newsies at a muckety-muck party. Aww, Manser, I dunno nothin' 'bout dancin' er tawkin' ta people like dat." Spot sighed. "What do I do?" "Ya didn't already tell hoir ya wouldn't go, did ya?" Manser foresaw a disaster. "Well, I kinda let me temper out on hoir. Guess I should 'poligize ta hoir tomorrow, huh?" "You beddah. Dat goil's class," Manser laughed. "Listen, don't say anthin' 'bout dat party now. It'll woirk itself out. I bet it will, it always does fer da great Spot Conlon," Manser got up. Spot nodded, and the other newsie started to leave. "Manser -a woird ah dis ta anyone, and you'se gonna wish you nevah came ta New Yawk," warned Spot menacingly. Manser gulped and nodded. Spot sighed and started to get ready for bed. He would have to swallow his pride and apologize tomorrow, before it was too late.

Amanda and Katrin giggled long into the night, planning, until Kloppman came to wake them up the next morning. Amanda walked to the trolley station, and Katrin went to go get her papes. "Don't worry none 'bout Spot," Katrin hugged Amanda when they parted. "I'se takin' care ah it. By meself though -I ain't gonna tell Blink er Mush er anyone, Mandy." "Katrin, thanks from my whole heart!" Amanda hugged her short friend again, "Tell Miss Josephine I said heya," Katrin called as she walked off. Amanda got onto the trolley and began to think about Spot. Maybe I'm being unreasonable, Amanda thought to herself. I mean, here I am, trying to conform him to my world. That's unfair isn't it? He never expected that from me. Amanda suddenly frowned, thinking of all the times she'd gone to the lodging house in Brooklyn. You did enter his world, she told herself. You willingly changed yourself for him. And maybe, Amanda Coldrine, that wasn't such a good idea. Amanda came to this realization as she stepped off the trolley in Brooklyn. She walked how quickly through the snow to find Aunt Josephine in the kitchen. "And how are you, Miss Amanda?" Aunt Jo hugged her niece tightly. "I was worried 'bout you." "Well, Katrtin helped. She thinks," Amanda giggled, "that Spot can't dance. And she has a plan. But..." "But what?" "Aunt Jo, what if this isn't supposed to be?" Amanda sat down in a kitchen chair. "I've conformed to his world, haven't I? We're from completely different worlds, Spot and I are. But I've adapted to his way of life for him. I've spent nights in Lodging Houses, I've swam in the Brooklyn River." "So?" "Aunt Josephine, I've tried to live in his world. Just once, can't he try to live in mine?" Amanda threw up her hands. "Maybe he cain't," Aunt Jo put her arm around her niece. "Maybe he don't know how." Amanda wiped her eyes. "I don't want to see him anymore. It's for the best," Amanda stood up suddenly. "What?" "Aunt Jo, I'm serious. I no longer wish to see him ort associate with him. We're too different." Amanda stood her ground. "Don't try to convince me otherwise. I'm making this decision. If he comes here, I shall tell him myself." Aunt Josephine smiled smugly. "Well, good, 'cause here he comes." Amanda paled. "Aunt Jo, tell him I'm not at home... something, anything!" Amanda pleaded with her aunt. "Miss Amanda, show what yer made of. Go out dere and greet him," Aunt Jo shoved her into the restaurant. "Good morning, Spot Conlon," she said quietly as she noticed the tall, lanky boy standing there, his cap off, revealing his cropped brown hair. Spot gulped. She looked like she had been up all night. And she's still the most beautiful t'ing I've evah seen, he thought. "Manders, we gots ta tawk." "Yes we do." Spot noted the cold tone. "Wanna take a wawk?" Amanda nodded, and Spot opened the door for her. "Listen, I'se sorry 'bout yesterday," Spot began, trying hard not to lose his cool. "I -uh - overreacted." Amanda sighed. He wasn't making this easier. "Spot..." "Manders," Spot grabbed her hand. "I was up all night t'inkin' 'bout you. I came roight over heah dis mornin', didn't even buy papes." Spot sighed. "Please, forgive me, Manders." "Spot!" Amanda cried. "Spot, this isn't easy for me. I forgive you," she said quietly. "But I know this is not going to work. We never should have tried this." Amanda's voice broke. "What?" Spot's blye eyes showed his lack of understanding. "Spot, we shouldn't see each other anymore. We live in different worlds, Spot. We always have, and we always will," Amanda said, her cheeks wet with tears. "Manders, you ain't sayin'..." "Spot. Do what's right here. For the both of us. I wish you the best, Spot Conlon, good-bye," Amanda whispered. She leaned over, ksising him on the cheek, and turned to go. "Dat's fine, Miss High Society!" Spot spat, suddenly losing his temper. Amanda's shoulders shook, but she kept walking away. Spot swore loudly and watched her go. How could she do this ta me? Me, da great Spot Conlon? All ovah a little dance. Spot frowned, thinking to himself. Dat goil... I loved hoir. Shows ya, nevah trust a woman. She ain't nothin' special, he told himself. Then he slammed a hand on his forehead. Amanda Coldrine was something wonderful, something special. And he had lost her.

Katrin was puzzled. A few nights ago, Amanda was crying over Spot and now she heard that they weren't even together. I hate ta stick me nose in it, she thought, but dose two is made for each uddah. I'se goin' ta Brooklyn, I'll tawk ta Spot, she decided. Upon reaching Brooklyn, she ran into Manser -literally. "Sorry, Mans," she said, getting up. "My fault." "Little Katrin, what're you doin' so far from Manhattan? And without Kid Blink, too?" Manser teased. "I'se heah ta see Spot," Katrin drew herself up to her full height of five foot. "Now." "Well, alright, but he AIN'T in a good modd," Manser warned. "He's over there," he pointed to a lone figure sitting on a crate on the docks. Katrin slowly approached Spot. "Short stuff, what're you doin' heah?" he asked her. "I gotta tawk ta ya. Spot, what're ya doin' sittin' out heah? It's gotta be only a few degrees 'bove zero," Katrin blew on her hands. "What ya cain't take da cold in Manhattan? How's Manhattan and Jacky-boy anyway?" Spot teased her, but you could tell he was interested in Manhattan's doings. "We'se fine... but yer goil ain't." Katrin bluntly said. "She ain't me goil no more -got it?" Spot's blue eyes were like ice, glaring at her. Katrin didn't flinched, although she was a little scared underneath. "No, I don't got it. 'Cause it ain't true." Spot sighed, seeing that Amanda's best friend obvious knew the way he felt. "Alright, alright. Let's go tawk inside, eh? In me room?" Katrin nodded, and the walked to the Lodging House. Once inside, Spot still didn't loose his cool. "What's yer problem? It's ovah." "You two are both too stubborn, ya know dat?" Katrin smiled, almost laughing. "Spot I know dat ya t'ink 'bout hoir every minute. I know dat ya love hoir. Spot," Katrin paused, "you can win hoir back." Spot's shoulder's slumped. "She's gone fer good, Katrin. We'se from different woirlds," he said, echoing her words sadly. "Only if ya want ta be. She enters yer woirld all da time. Why couldn't ya escort hoir?" Katrin asked, sitting down on the floor next to where Spot was leaning on the bunk. "Me? At a party wit da muckety-mucks? I don't t'ink so," Spot snorted. "You could... fer Amanda. Da goil who's spendin' hoir first Christmas away from home, cause she told hoir parents she wanted ta spend it wit you," Katrin confided to Spot. "Didn't know dat," Spot looked at Katrin. "Really?" "Soire thing. Wouldn't lie ta ya, Spot, not bout dat." "It don't matter anyway," Spot said, scoffing. "I can't go. What would I wear?" "Jack's suit from Pullitzer. All you gotta do is tailor it, and dress it up a bit," Katrin said. "I won't. I can't-" Spot stopped Katrin let the sentence hang over him. "Oh alright. I can't dance!" Spot admitted. "I ain't gonna embarress my Manders like that." Katrin noticed the use of his expression My Manders.' "Spot, dancin' is easy. I could teach ya, and den, you could soirprise hoir and go," Katrin smiled at him. "I ain't gonna do nothin; like dat," Spot's Brooklyn ego took over. "Oh, alright. But I swear on da Brooklyn River dat if dis gets out ta anyone, you'll be so bruised you'll wish you was dead," he threatened. Katrin merely nodded, being used to dealing with Spot and Brooklyn. "So," Katrin rocked forward on her toes. "We should start now." Spot paled. "Lemme lock dat door," he muttered. "Alright," Katrin said once the room was secure. "Foirst thing you do is offer yer hand, and bow. She'll courtsey." Spot bobbed his head. "Nah, like dis," Katrin demonstrated. Spot repeated her motion, scowling. Katrin curtsied. "Not, put yer hand on me waist." "I don't like dis," Spot frowned as he obeyed her command. "You will. Now, we'se gonna jist imagine I gots a skirt on. Alright, ya take yer left hand and hold my right," Katrin said, then started humming a tune. "Now, one, two, three, one, two, three." Spot sighed. Amanda, he thought, I hope you like dis...

Katrin walked over to Josephine's Restaurant. The dancing lesson had gone well. Despite Spot's protests, he was actually an avid learner. "Heya, Miss Jo," the old lady waved at Katrin. "Amanda here?" "She's gettin' upstairs, gettin' changed," Aunt Josephine said. "Go up and join hoir," she said, waving Katrin on. The spinster focused her attention on the customers in the restaurant. Katrin bounded up the stairs. "Amanda!" She called. "Amanda, how's you?" "Awful," Amanda hugged her friend. "I'm writing my regret note to Sarah's party. I don't have anyone to take me." "No!" Katrin insisted quickly. Amanda gave her a look. "Well, uh, have Jack take ya," she suggested lamely. "Jack? I've only talked to him a few times," Amanda raised her left eyebrow. "Soire, but he'll take ya. And he knows how ta dance, cause Sarah taught him," Katrin explained, trying to sound truthful. Amanda still looked doubtful. "Oh, I don't know... I don't really want to go with anyone..." Katrin nodded. "Except Spot. Manda, take Jack. IT'll all work out," smiled Katrin. "I promise ya. It will." Amanda crumbled her regret note into a ball. "Katrin, do you want to go for an ice cream, or maybe a hot chocolate at Dublin's?" Katrin agreed, and the two girls left merrily.

Amanda eventually managed to get herself into the Christmas spirit, but it was hard. She didn't realize how much she would miss Spot once he was gone. A few times she caught herself wandering to the pier of Brooklyn, before she made herself go home. On December 22nd, two days before the party, Amanda walked into the restaurant singing Christmas carols. She carried a large amount of packages. "Well, you'se coirtainly in a good mood," smiled Aunt Josephine. The customers in the restaurant laughed. "I love Christmas. And no one is going to ruin it for me," smiled Amanda. "Look, I bought presents today! No peeking, Aunt Jo," Amanda kissed her aunt. Aunt Jo nodded. "I suppose you'se gonna decorate dat tree ah yers?" Only last night, Amanda had made her aunt go with her, Katrin, and Kid Blink to buy the biggest Christmas tree in Brooklyn. Aunt Jo pronounced it nonsense, but the smell of pine was simply wodnerous to Amanda. "Oh yes!" smiled Amanda back. "Let me go take off my wrap, it's still dripping with snow. Oh, it's marvelous that we'll have a white Christmas, isn't it?" the glee on Amanda's face was apparent as she left the room, singing away.

Across town, Katrin was explaining the situation to Jack Kelly. "So Amanda t'inks she's goin' wit me?" asked Jack, confused slightly. "Yes. But you really are gonna loan dat suit ah yers ta Spot so he can take hoir," Katrin explained patiently. Jack sighed. "Well, alright. I'se gonna help ya out, I always do. But I git ta hold it ovah Conlon, alright?" Katrin gave Jack a hug and giggled. "Alright, can I take da suit, then? I gotta refit it fer Spot," Katrin rationalized. Jack grabbed a small bag from underneath his bunk. "Dey'se in dere," he told her, handing her the bag. "Betcha you're gonna have ta shorten den fer Spot, prob'ly," Jack laughed. Katrin giggled, and then thanked Jack. She grabbed the suit and headed over to Brooklyn, telling Jack she might be late that night.

Amanda sat in her room, wrapping presents. She had gotten wonderful gifts for her friends. For Mush, ther was a pair of new shoes with matching laces, and for Racetrack and Snipeshooter, good cigars. For Katrin, there was a pair of new suspenders, and a diarybook. Every newsie had a gift from Amanda. Her parents had been generous with her allowance this month, and she had spent it all on gifts for other people. For Aunt Josephine, she had bought a pretty black hat, made of good thick wool for winter. There was one presnt still on her floor, unwrapped. She picked it up. "Spot," she whispered. The gift was a small ornament in the shape of a Victorian house. On the back, it said, "Spot and Manders. Never give up your dreams." Amanda still remembered the day Spot had told her about the key around his neck and his dream...

"What's that?" Spot looked down at the key he wore around his neck. "Oh. Dis is jist," he paused. "Listen. I don't tell many people about dis. It's special. So don't be tellin' no one." Amanda nodded. Spot continued, "I found dis. It's a, what-cha-call-it, a talisman. A good luck charm, you know? It makes me think of..." Spot, whaddya think you'se doing? You ain't told no one da next part. Ever. Keep it dat way. "Makes you think of what, Spot?" Spot cleared his throat. "Dis'll probably sound stupid to you," he mumbled. "See, it makes me think of a home, ya know? Like a key to a real house. Wit a real family. I'se never had any family, 'cept da newsies. I never even knew me muddah or faddah. Dey left me in an orphanage when I was a few months old. But someday, I'm gonna have a real family." His eyes shone in the soft evening light. "Spot Conlon," Amanda smiled at him, "That's wonderful." Spot's head began to spin. She thinks my dream's wonderful! Wonderful! He put his arms around her. "You think so, Amanda?" He kissed her softly. She nodded, brining him closer. They stood kissing in the alley...

Amanda stood up, wiping tears she wasn't sure were there until she touched them. I've made a mistake, she thought for the millionth time that week. We understand each other. We always have, and probably always will. I love him so much. She slowly wrapped the ornament in the edition of the Brooklyn Sun that had come out on the day Spot had asked her to be his 'goil.' She sadly put the present with the others. Maybe I should give it to him, she thought. No! We're through. And then, Amanda Coldrine lay down on her bed and wept.

The day finally arrived, and there was lots of preparation. Amanda was busy getting ready. She took a long bath with scented salts, after heating water on the stove for a half hour. She carefully put on her face powder and touches of rouge. Finally, she groaned, realizing it was time to tackle her hair. Amanda hated her long, thick mass of blonde hair, although she knew it was beautiful. She just didn't enjoy dealing with it. "Aunt Jo!" she moaned. The old lady appeared at the door. "Aunt Jo, I can't do my hair!" She threw the mass of straight hair over hre shoulders. "I knew dis was gonna happen. It's a bit early few gifts, but I got you dis," Aunt Jo produced an elegant lace snood. "I picked it out meself ta go wit yer dress." Aunt Jo stood shyly, holding out the gift. "Do... do ya like it, Mandy?" Amanda hugged aunt. "Thank you, I love you so much, Aunt Jo!" Aunt Jo smiled, pleased at her niece's display of affection. She deftly arranged the snood, and tied it with a velvet ribbon. "Now, for the dress," smiled Amanda. She happily gazed at the dark, hunter green tafeta dress. It was gorgeous, and emphasized Amanda's good features. She pulled on the dress with a rustle of fabric, and continued getting dressed.

"I dunno 'bout dis," Spot Conlon scowled at Katrin. "I'se a little noirvous." "You? Da great Spot Conlon?" teased Katrin. She affixed a white rose to his lapel. "Poirfect." Spot lookd in the mirror. His hair was slicked back, the gray suit tailored to fit his lean figure. He had bought new shoes, and in his pocker was a Christmas gift for Amanda. "One last thing," Katrin said as she produced white gloves, a top hat, and then gave them to Spot. He smiled. "I jist hope she don't throw me out," he said sheppishly. "She won't. She loves you," Katrin said quietly. He glared at her. "And you beddah not evah tell anyone 'bout dis. Not my boys in Brooklyn, not da Manhattan newsies, not anyone else. Got it?" Katrin nodded. "Oh, and Katrin?" Spot said as he opened the door. "T'anks."

Amanda smoothed out her dress one last time. She examinedherself in the mirror critically, and finalyl decided that she looked beautiful. "Merry Christmas," she whispered to herself in the mirror. She grabbed her handbag. "Good evenin'," Amanda froze at the sound of the voice. She slowly turned around to see the person who had spoken. "Merry Christmas, Amanda Coldrine," Spot said quietly. Amanda didn't hesitate. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. "Where did you get the suit? You look wonderful! Why did you come?" "You look beautiful, Manders," Spot said quietly, reaching out to touch her cheek. "My Manders." "Oh, Spot, it was all my fault, I'm sorry," Amanda apologized. "Ain't no one's fault. Important t'ing is, it's ovah. And I love you. Merrcy Christmas," he kissed her again. Aunt Jo walked in, and Spot pulled away. "Well, you two beddah git on yer way," Aunt Jo smiled, expressing no surprise that Spot was here after all. "I got a carriage fer ya, outside. Merrcy Christmas." Spot took Amanda's arm, and she smiled at his sincereity. "I love you," she said quietly as he helped her into the carriage. "I know," he said, giving her his best grin. They arrived at the party fashionably late. Spot was uneasy, but he soon learned to just continue his courteousness. The dancing wasn't so hard after all, he reflected to himself. When the clocked chimed eleven, Amanda looked at Spot. They were still dancing, but she could tell he wasn't really enjoying himself. Amanda whispered in his ear, "Let's leave and go to the Manhattan Christmas party. They're probably just starting." Spot grinned, and nodded. "Dat's me goil," he said to her. Amanda blushed, and went to go thank Sarah for hosting. "Amanda, it was divine. And that young man in exquisite! Perhaps you'll join me and Jonathan at the theater next week," Sarah Craver offered gracefully. "Perhaps, I shall let you know," Amanda smiled. "Thank you again." She left, Spot holding his arm out to escort her. "So, did I do alright?" Spot asked as they walked through the snow to the lodging house. "You did perfectly," she smiled, running a hand through his hair. They stood on the corner kissing, when they heard cat calls. "Hey, it's da woirld's most famous couple, back togeddah again," Jack Kelly teased. The two laughed and walked inside the lodging house with Jack. "Merry Christmas everyone!" called out Katrin. Amanda returned the greeting. She sang out. "We wish you a Merry Christmas," and everyone joined in. "Let's sing carols!" Katrin grinned. The newsies all agreed, and they sat around singing while eating popcorn. As they finished, "O Holy Night," Spot leaned over to Amanda. "We'd best be gettin' you home." She shook her head. "I'm too tired, Spot," she leaned her head on his chest. He put his arms around her, as they sat on the bunk, a little away from the group. Spot looked down, and saw Amanda had fallen asleep. He motioned to Kid Blink. "Send someone ta Miss Josephine, ta tell hoir Manders is here. She's asleep, and I ain't wakin' hoir," Spot kissed her forehead softly. Kid Blink oblidged, and Spot fell asleep with Amanda in his arms.

The next morning, Amanda awoke to the smell of sausages, fresh bread, and pancakes cooking. She opened her eyes and rubbed them in disbelief. She was still at the lodging house. And she was, Amanda realized, in Spot Conlon's arms. "Mornin', Manders," Spot whispered, kissing her cheek. "Merry Christmas." "Merry Christmas!" David and Les burst into the bunkroom, followed by Kloppman with Aunt Josephine. Amanda freed herself from Spot's arms, running to hug her aunt. "You did all this, didn't you?" she cried happily as she noticed the decorations around the room. "Soire did. Oh, and I brought your presents. Noticied you had already goteen one fer Spot," her aunt teased. "Dey'se downstairs wit dat tree ah yers." "The tree?" Amanda asked, her eyes widening. "Soire!" Aunt Jo smiled. "Kid Blink and Mush helped me carry it avah heah." Amanda felt like a little girl, she was so giddy. The newsies all had a wonderful breakfast, and afterwards Amanda gave ot her gifts. Everyone loved them, and Mush almost cried when he saw the new boots. Spot grabbed Amanda's arm. "Come heah, goil. I got somet'ing fer ya." They stood off in a little corner. Amanda grabbed Spot's gift, wrapped in newsprint. "Here, Merry Christmas, Manders," Spot handed her a small package wrapped in red tissue paper. Amanda cautiously peeled back the paper. A small grey box was in her hands. She opened it, and discovered a delicate gold chain. On the end was a tiny gold lock. Amanda smiled. "And who holds the key to this?" she teased Spot. "Fits da key 'round me neck," Spot said honestly. He had spent every penny he had saved on that neckalce, and quite a few favors had been called in too. But it was worth it, he reflected, for the happiness on Amanda's face. "Turn it ovah," he told Amanda. Amanda turned the lock over to read the letters in tiny scrpit. "Spot and Manders," she read outloud. She leaned over and kissed him softly. "Merry Christmas," she said shyly, and gave Spot her gift. Spot was surprised she had gotten him anything. He unwrapped it carefully, noting the date on the newspaper. He smiled at her, and pointed to the day. Amanda nodded happily. "Manders, it's beautiful," he said as he saw the little gold house. Turning it over, he read the engravement. "Spot and Manders -Never give up your dreams." He took Amanda's hand. "Guess we got da same dream, huh?" Amanda nodded happily. "Are you two gonna join dis party? We'se lightin' da tree," Racetrack yelled to Amanda and Spot. The newsies all stood around the tree as Kloppman carefully lit the candles. Amanda started to quietly sing, 'O Christmas Tree,' and the other newsies' voices floated in. There was Katrin's chirping, Mush's tenor, Kid Blink's beautiful throaty tone, and everyone's harmoneous sounds. Amanda looked at her aunt and her dear friends around her. "The best Christmas ever," she whispered to herself. "For me, too," Spot squeezed her hand. "Merry Christmas, Manders." "Merry Christmas, Spot," Amanda returned, her blue eyes happy. "Merry, Merry Christmas."

[teacherintransition]

To Alexandria, Louisiana Nous Avons Fait une Maison et Quelques Amis et ils Nous Manquerant Tous

This journey, though planned, has presented us with more surprises than can be imagined…

Most prominent has been falling in love with this somewhat overlooked city along the Red River in deep Louisiana

For almost two years, I’ve extolled the merit, nay vital importance, of planning when life changes. C’mon, changing the direction of one’s life is stressor numero uno let alone having to dealt with surprises coming out of left field. We all know that things go according to planned…right? It has been my personal experience since becoming a teacher in transition that the great Scottish poet and patriot, Rabbie Burns, in his poem, “To a Mouse,” actually is more spot on when describing the results of planning: “The best laid schemes o' mice an' men / Gang aft a-gley.” Perfectly said, am I right? In our three months here, nothing has gone seriously a-gley, au contraire my

enthusiastic reader things have gone incredibly well, especially for my wonderful wife in her temporary place of employ. Her self confidence and sense of contribution to the nursing field have increased immeasurably. So what in the hell O’ great teacher in transition are talking about things going a-gley or awry? We never, ever expected to fall in love with the city and people of Alexandria, Louisiana.

We didn’t anticipate anything negative like street fights with citizens or raids and being pillaged. We just thought that we’d lower our heads for thirteen weeks accomplish our goals and move onto the next one. But…but…love the place and the people? Oh great …who wanted that? Now, it’s going to be heartbreaking to leave. It is…truly. For my wife, she has been treated as a professional of the highest order; made special friends of her co workers and one might say she has been compensated lucratively. …she has. I’ve done a great deal of writing, photography and exploring. The variety of restaurants has been incredible, the historical sites and art venues numerous and all employing excellent, friendly Alexandrines. It is among these locales that we have met wonderful people that will never be forgotten.

I have met a amazing community of artists who have inspired me tremendously. Morgan, Taylor and Vincent (I gave the last guy that name because I don’t actually know his name) reacquainted me with being able to visit and share with other artists. That is a hunger, a need that only those of us with an artist bent (some say weird) can truly understand. They have been a needed balm on wounds I didn’t know I had. Merci chers amis.

I discovered long ago that a truly wonderful coffee shop is a place where ideas and conversations flow like fresh brewed elixir from the coffee bean. When we got here, there were three possible shops. On day one, I walked into the Tamp and Grind…decision made. There were brightly colored walls decorated with works from local artists, items of travel and clever words from poets of all types. I’ve gotten a tremendous amount of writing done in such a vibrant environment. Kim and I have also spent many wonderful cool afternoons sitting outside, drinking tea and people watching. In a world of panics and pandemics, the Tamp and Grind has been a haven of good coffee and peaceful surroundings. Au revoir Amanda, Ti’aria, Brooklyn, and Brittany… you quietly made our thirteen week stay in a strange land feel like home.

If you know me in any way, you know the word “pub” carries an almost, to hell with almost, a TRUE mystical significance. It ain’t just about the drinking my friends, but that is an important aspect. One can get a drink in a bar, a saloon, a cantina, a club, a bar and grille, a restaurant, a cooler….but none of these places come close to being a pub. A pub is something else altogether. A haven for those beaten down a bit, a place for those lonely in their soul, a well of happiness for one seeking conversation and companionship. A true pub has an old world feel, it has a dark calming aura, and a sophisticated selection of whiskies. In my personal experience, I’ve only entered into a handful of places that qualify as a true pub in the magical sense of the word:

1. The Liberty Bell Nacogdoches, Tx RIP “au nom du père, du fils et du saint esprit”

2. The Piper Whisky Bar Glasgow, Scotland…we’ll be there soon.

3. The Blarney Stone Dublin, Ireland …in a few weeks

4. The Old Rod and Reel Crianlarich

5. McSwiggans Plano, Tx

Here in Alexandria, we’ve come across the newest and perhaps most significant of the fabled few…The Tasting Room. It’s …just…perfect. Big wooden doors with smoky glass that enters upon what appears to be a warm, quaint, inviting public house offering respite from the cold windy moors…yeah, smart guy, I know we are in downtown Alexandria…work with me here. It’s run by an eclectic, entrepreneurial, lovely, sharp whiskey sommelier…a whiskey sommelier…that’s gotta be right up there with high priestess. One of the best attributes of a pub owner is having an eye for hiring the perfect people. Melissa hired Vangie…many years my junior but writes and thinks about things I like…perfect. Melisa offers not only the most exquisite choices of whiskey I have ever seen, but also food offerings that are compelling and exquisite. The world feels welcome here and I truly have met people from all walks of life: Bella, the quirky part time bartender and full time radio employee; Jorge, the Venezuelan born, European traveler owner of a small ad firm, Chris, an IT specialist who actually grew up near Nacogdoches; Jim, the Spanish professor at a university an hour away, Don, the fella who rides his bike from Pineville to partake off the pleasures of The Tasting Room, Morgan, a talented local artist; a guy I call the “Cider Man, who is big and burly and craves scotch and cider. I could go on and on and on extolling the patrons of this pub who, like us, stumbled a bit on life’s road, but are always looking to offer a hand or to ask for one when needed. There is no place on earth that offers what a good pub gives in abundance. This place brings me joy and tears knowing that our days are numbered here. Chagrin joyeux

We planned for many things on this adventure and many wonderful things have taken place. Didn’t expect to have my heart broken joyfully. I had people warn me that Alexandria was a rough city; a run down city, a crime ridden city….bless their poor, slow little hearts. If you look for the negative…it will be found. I look at things with my soul’s eye…it’s then that you can the magic of a place and the beauty of another’s spirit. I didn’t expect to love these people and this place…but our hearts are healed and we didn’t know they needed healing. Thank you Alexandria…and au revoir.

#open mind #retirement #coffetime #stress #change #teacher #i need friends #health #writing #education #europe #self actualization #self discovery #self improvement #socialmedia #self healing #social circle #social anxiety #writer #social media #alexandria #Alexandria Louisiana #Tamp and Grind #tasting room

[ziracona]

So last night I wound up reading Amanda's wiki and It made me kind of sad for her, because it very much sounds like she was suffering from stockholme syndrome of a kind there, to me, atleast. Which makes me wonder, what do you think of the pig/amanda? What's your Amanda like in your stories? Do you think she had any potential for redemption (with A LOT of work)? I guess I just wanna hear your thoughts on her character because ur always rly good at it?? - Sleepy

Yeah, whoever wrote the Saw wiki loves Amanda and hates Hoffman and it’s genuinely hilarious. They make a lot of assumptions (like that her motive for killing Adam after he won his game was mercy killing, which is a throughly unconfirmed opinion), and use the most sympthetic & extreme language possible. I’ve watched all the Saw films, and as a character, Amanda is a very enjoyable villain, but as a person? She’s a truly awful human being. (Side note—this typed last— So, mentioning certain Saw characters sends me flying into a rage like a D&D berserker, so this is gonna get angry as hell, but 0 of it is at you. I love you. This is at the Jigsaw squad. WHO I FUCKING HATE. Ahem. Anyway. Felt like the level of unbridled and sudden fury needed a heads up lol.) It’s not Stockholm syndrome. In Saw one, she’s a victim who is put in a reverse beartrap and forced to either die, or cut the key out of the stomach of a paralyzed by drugs but very alive (which she knew) other kidnap victim, whom she cut open and killed. After enduring that trauma and barely surviving, she immediately accepted John’s offer to join him. She was not forced, she was not tricked. He asked, and because she wanted to feel special and important, she agreed to inflict suffering she knew goddamn well the horrible level of on others first hand, and went willingly. She is self-centered to her core, and became dependent on and infatuated with John, and obsessed with his approval. She kidnapped Adam and Lawrence with him, who were kidnapped for fuckall reason (literally John just thought photography was pathetic) and for almost cheating on his wife (lol this was John’s ‘stated’ reason—his real reason was John is the world’s pettiest bitch, and Lawrence was the doctor who told him he had cancer. I’m not fkn kidding he’s that level of petty self-absorbed, self-righteous bastard) respectively. Then killed Adam after he won his game, which should have given him freedom but John reneged on like he always does like the pissy little bitch he is, Amanda killed him for reasons up to speculation. However, given John usually tests people who win a second time or tries to get them to join or some bullshit, it’s more plausible to assume her motive was seeing him as a threat than that it was mercy killing, and it’s only stated in-film to be an emotion based decision, not her actual movtive. Everyone’s opinion on this action is just that—opinion. With varying degrees of factual basis behind the educated level of educated guess.

In Saw 2, she helps John kidnap a bunch of drug addicts like herself who all got false arrests by the same officer at one time or another, along with a poor fucking 15 year old whose crime is having that cop for a dad. She then spent the next two hours watching people whose only crime was drug use, like herself, die horribly of organ deterioration, knowing at any time she could have stopped it and saved them all because she knew how to get the antidotes. Bitch even holds one girl in her arms and stokes her head and pretends to care about her while she hacks up deteriorated lung and blood and fucking dies, when at any moment she could have chosen to let her live. Literally no one should be more sympathetic to them than her. She knows how addicted to drugs feels, and the help you need. Anyway, she doesn’t, she lets them die and plays with them, and then when it’s to her, the 15 year old—who multiple times saves or helps her when hurt by other participants, and is nothing but kind—and one other man, the man shows up to kill her to get an antidote, and the poor fucking 15 year old child kills him with a saw to save her, traumatizing himself to a breakdown afterwords, and instead of being even thankful, she attacks and knocks him out, ties him up and attaches an oxygen tank so he won’t suffocate, and locks him in a fucking like tiny ass safe to be a game piece for another trial and leaves him there. His dad, who admittedly needs to serve jail time but isn’t a fucking murderer at least & does love his son, shows up distraught looking for his kid he’s afraid is dead, and she sneak attacks and takes him down, then leaves him chained up in a nasty lost bathroom to starve slowly to death, and doesn’t even do him the decency of telling him his kid isn’t dead. When he breaks his foot to get free and comes hobbling wounded after her, she sneak attacks again and he nearly wins, but she fucks up his broken foot and starts to leave, then comes back and beats him (she thinks) to death becuase he said she would never be Jigsaw, and she’s that petty and proud. Kid never gets to know what happened to his dad, and even alive, will definitely die young from the complications one, you know, gets from almost dying of chemical organ deterioration.

In Saw 3, the main victim is a man whose kid was lost in a hit and run. Jigsaw has Amanda kidnap his wife because she’s a surgeon and also was once not as sympathetic as he thought she should be when talking to him about his cancer at the hospital (I’m not even fucking exaggerating—side note, I will beat John Kramer to death myself with my huge fucking meat fists and laugh as I watch his bones crumble to dust). This poor bitch just lost a kid, then separated from her husband because he was a fucking mess consumed with revenge against the poor college kid who accidentally hit his son & totally withdrew from the world, and she wakes up with a collar filled with shotgun shells basically a 360 gun blow off your head collar deal on, and Amanda wheeling her around in the wheelchair she’s tied to. They tell her if she keeps John alive until the person being tested finishes his test, she can go free. The whole movie, Amanda keeps trying to convince John to kill the poor woman even though she complies just because she’s a throughly selfish, petty, conceited, self-pitying bastard with no regard for others, and wants this “Bitch” to die for fun. She feels she’s a threat for John’s attentions, and John isn’t even romantically inclined toward her, but she’s obsessed and doesn’t care. Amanda decides between Saws 2 and 3 that people aren’t fixable—even though she herself was supposedly “helped” by her Jigsaw game and this is hypocritical as fuck—and just starts straight up fucking torture murdering for fun. To the point even John thinks she has to be stopped. Like if John fucking Kramer thinks you’ve gone to far? Jesus help you because no one else can. She still does the torture, but instead of like, chopping off your own hand with a paring knife and getting to live, you chop it off and then still slowly get your head crushed between two beams being screwed closer and closer together. She kills Kerry for fuckall reason except she wants to (Kerry is a detective who did jack shit wrong—she was just on the case. It’s utter bullshit). Kidnaps her, straps a thing with hooks in her ribs that will tear out her rib cage when a timer runs out, and kill her that way, and had her hung up above the ground tied by chains, and tells her if she burns her hand up in a bottle of acid to get the key at the bottom which is hard period in the suit—never mind losing the hand—she can live. And Kerry fucking does, ruins her hand, unlocks the lock, and the suit won’t come off becuase the cunt rigged it. Then Amanda shows up to watch her die for fun just to smile smugly at her and watch her fear. Because she’s a fucking soulless, sadistic, evil, self-centered, self-important asshole.

Obsessed dad let’s a fucking bystander whose only crime was seeing a hit and run and running off freeze to death stripped naked and sprayed with water in a freezer slowly, saves a judge who gave too weak a sentence to the hit and run kid after the man begs, and then lets the poor fucking college kid who did it and already feels awful get his arms twisted till they snap off, legs twisted till the same, and then his head twisted around back so far it twist snap kills him. The rack is fucking beyond inhumane death. Amanda monitors this while threading Lynn (the poor doctor lady) for fun and crying over poow wittwe John who is dying of cancer (thank you god for doing what we couldn’t), and being miserable. Eventually, Hoffman sends her a letter saying if she doesn’t kill Lynn, he’ll tell John that she was one of the people there to steal drugs the night his wife got injured and miscarried (he probably already knew 🙄), and becuase Amanda cares about nothing more than Amanda, she fucking monolgauges at John about how special and sad she is how he needs to fix her and she’s a murderer but she doesn’t care because you know—she’s depressed : ( so she gets a pass for her self she’s UwU sad so her poor little crisis can have a massive torture body count bc she’s that special UwU and why is Lynn not gonna die even though she did her job!??? So unfair! No one changes kill them all but tell me I’m special I’m symapthetic because I’m sad and that makes it fun for me to tear people’s ribs out :’( —and then she fucking shoots Lynn becuase she cares less about an innocent woman’s life than the potential for John to be mad at her :’-( you know—such symapthetic stuff! And then John is like “Ok then fkn die :’(“ and Jeff/unstable dad/Lynn’s husband runs in and shoots her and then kills John.

Anyway! I fucking hate Amanda with a passion, and John. I cannot stand humans who hurt each other for fun, especially when they target those who most need help. But above all I cannot abide a person who is a sadistic, selfish, wholly self-absorbed fuck of a human, and refuses to take any responsibility for their actions or admit how fucking bad they are and has the goddamn nerve to act like a victim. Like if you’re going to be an evil son of a bitch, at least have the decency to admit it. If you’re a self-pitying “im uwu special and sad and better and more important than everyone else” —double points for “& becuase I am attractive I can get away with being a soulless shit without any being held accountable” from fandom or the media itself, tripple if from both—? I will kill you myself. I will rip out your eyes and chew on them. I will kill my self on a bomb to take you too. I will chew off my left arm for the sole purpose of getting to beat you to death with it. The wiki writer bends over back so bad they’re gonna need a brace the rest of their life to make her sound sympthetic, but they’re just a fan. She’s not. At all. She doesn’t have Stockholm, and I see people say “she got manipulated and used : (“ all the time, but without fail so far it’s people who think she’s hot and just want a reason to stan that because somehow a hot white woman with short hair even if canonically infatuated with John Kramer is somehow both a lesbian, and excusable for every horrible torture murder she ever did to feel uwu special in her depressed sad times. She wasn’t manipualated. It happened fast, she wasn’t courted into it, and she didn’t even hesitate to say yes. He offered her an out, made sure she was serious, and she stayed. And then she escalated to the point John took her out to stop her, because it was worse than what he wanted to do. I enjoyed her as a villain but as a person I fucking hate Amanda, and don’t really want to see her get another chance. Bastard doesn’t deserve one. I can’t say there’s no continuum in which she could never improve or be redeemed becuase who the fuck knows, and I like to think there’s a smidgen of hope for anyone, but that said, I do think the more evil you willfully do, the more you lose your humanity, and you can hit a point there’s just no person left. So. Anyway, hah, I don’t think she’s redeemable and frankly don’t want her redeemed. I want to burn her to death myself if I have to die that way too. Also! This was a wildly angry answer but none of it is directed at you. That wiki writer does make her sound symapthetic, I’ve read the wiki too—just I go into a blind rage any time John or Amanda is even mentioned and it takes me a half hour to come back down. I fly into a rage. If I ever go into anaphylactic shock, all a friend has to do is start mentioning the names of Saw villains and my adrenaline will start pumping like jet fuel and I’ll be fine. I just have a whole lot of righteously just rage at horrible awful self-righteous self-absorbed malicious manipulative dehumanizing self-pity bastards who take 0 responsibility for their evil or admit it, and Amanda & John are two at the way top of that rage list. It’s a dark but powerful headspace when I think of them. I become very powerful...but also very enraged. Lol, anyway, here’s the breakdown you didn’t need, but it is throrough!

#ask #Sleepy #anonymous #Saw #dead by daylight #Amanda Young #Saw 2 #Saw 3 #spoilers #side note! I have friends who /do/ love her as a character—I ain’t got beef with her existing or smth. or people who enjoy or love her #I like my fair share of horrible villains. I love Rafe from Uncharted 4 & he’s a certified piece of shit. #the only thing that gets me is people who try to be like ‘🥺 : ( but she’s a pwetty white woman w short hair which = lesbian /queen/! & makes #her exempt from all responsibility of torture murder. 💕💖 bc she’s so special and she was sad : ( I hc she dissociates so how can people not #love her if I pretend she doesn’t know what she’s done when canonically that’s not the case but I still think it? why do you not adhere to #my personal head canon making her sympthetic. : ( She’s pretty so she deserves 0 guilt or punishment. pwetty sad poor little baby girl : ( #needs love. TuT No badness ever wum? she isn’t responsible for her own actions what u mean an adult is responsible for their choices even if #sad?? :0 No. I don’t understand you can love terrible characters so I have to snap my back in half trying to pretend she did nothing wrong’ #because I have uhhhh seen it more than I wish despite my best efforts & im so goddamn tired :’) #sorry Sleepy this is like #one of my top 10 ‘I’m flyinn into a rage’ buttons I can’t help it I hear John or Amanda’s names & I see red #and can’t stop until the Justice and Judgement cards of life’s tarot deck are done punting me back and forth like a racquetball

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Smile For Me, Sweetcheeks ~ Ghostface x Fem!Reader

I've thought of this for a while, and it's gonna be

F U N

---

Y/N opened her eyes groggily, finding herself on the grassy ground - As she lifted her head to scan her surroundings, she realised she was in some strange, dark place that resembled some weird park with tall trees, yet had random small buildings here and there...It almost seemed like a place to play hide and seek, was her first thought.

Next to her, 3 other people were getting up, looking extremely frightened, as they bolted the hell out of that spot, going in different directions.

But Y/N didn't, and instead, she walked around aimlessly, until she spotted someone dressed in all black, with a weird ghost-like mask, peeking from behind an old car, almost timidly, only to see him wave at her.

Grinning at him, thinking she finally met someone friendly around this place, she extended her arm up in the sky, waving excitedly, which made the man make his way to her.

"Hi! I'm Y/N! It's great finally seeing someone nice around here. The 3 other guys just yelled in my face and ran away. How rude, right?!" she sighed, crossing her arms with a pout, before going back to her friendly smile, extending her hand to shake his. "Woaw, those guys are jerks. Call me Ghostface, darling." he said in an amused, yet somehow hoarse voice. "Uhhh, Ghostface, how cool! You must be a horror movie fan, then? So am I! ...Hmm...Actually, do you have any idea how we got here? I think I need some lecithin, my memory is failing me." she scratched the back of her head sheepishly, only for him to chuckle. "Welp, there's 4 survivors and a killer. All you gotta do is either repair 5 generators and find the exit...Or find the hatch and escape. Basically, don't die, I guess. Fun, huh?" the guy explained, putting his arm around her shoulder, guiding her to who knows where. "...What the hell is this, the Hunger Games?" she looked up at him with a weird look on her face. "Haha, that would be fun! Alas, nothing like that. Ah, look at this, a gen! Here I'll show you how to repair it. You have to tinker with these parts, and then merge these together...You get the cables in the respective coloured sockets...Et voila! Haha, look at it! Fireworks! What a reward!" Ghostface clapped and cheered at the fireworks the generator made, laughing at the startled look on the girl's face, as she clearly didn't expect something like that to happen. "Uh...Honestly, this is insane. Can't we just, like...Go home? I don't think I'm up for dying, even if someone paid me to go through with this silly game." she sighed, crouching down to the next generator, awkwardly trying to repair it, but she was much slower and clumsier compared to him, and it even exploded in her face, making her yelp and fall down. "Dude! Not cool! This gen is working against me!" "Shoulda seen the face you made, toots! Haha, so funny! You're very entertaining, girl. Here, lemme help ya out." he said as he got on the other side of the of the gen and helped repaired it. "You're a real pro at this, man. Have you been playing this for long? Did they at least give you a worthy amount of money for the trouble you're going through? I mean, I'm sure you won very often...Or maybe you're like...The tutorial teacher or something? Is that why you look eccentric compared to those lame-os?" she was asking so many question, but boy, was she so off that it amused the killer so much! He now perfectly understood the wolf who dressed as a sheep, it was too much fun! She was so blindingly trusting, he could mess with her, and more, with the survivors at his heart's content! "Yeah, I win quite often, but they don't pay me! The guy is kinda blackmailing us to play his game, but it's fun when you get used to it." he explained, only to have two other survivors go past them - Her and Ghostface waved at them merrily, but they just shrieked and ran the hell away from there. "...Do I look that scary?" she muttered, looking at the man next to her with a confused expression. "Nahhh, you're a cutiepie. Those guys are just jerks." he petted her hair, beginning to walk again, only to find some really nasty, rusty hooks. "U-Uhm...Gh-Ghostface...? What are these for...?" she stuttered, frowning as she clinged on his arm instinctively. "I think you already know, toots. Careful with those, killers LOVE to impale their victims on these things. It's like a sacrifice for the big guy who's keeping us here." he chuckled as he watched the girl tremble like a little lamb seeing the knife approaching her neck. "...Can we go away from here, please? M-Maybe we can look for the...Uhm...Hatch, you called it?" she muttered, pulling him away from there. "Yeah. It's like a trap in the ground that leads to safety. It only appears when there's only 2 gens left. Felt that shockwave? It meant that the Hatch just appeared. Ah, sorry baby-cakes, I gotta run, but I'll see you around before the match ends, okay?" he was grinning under his mask, knowing that he has to kill the other 3 to make sure the Entity doesn't punish

either of them for some annoying reason...And oh, the shock and horror on her face will be fun~. "N-No...! Please don't go! This place is huge and scary, I'll get lost without you! And who knows what would happen if the Killer finds me? I don't wanna end up...Th-There...!" awww, that cute, little, frightened pout on her face, how lovely~! If only she knew... "Don't worry, cutie, is'yo' first game, the Killer ain't gonna mess with ya, I promise. And if he does, Imma make sure he regrets it. I'm sort of a boss here, you see." he put cupped both his gloved hands on her face, pinching them a bit too hard, just to hear her yelp one more time - And clearly, she didn't disappoint, as her eyes even watered a tiny bit. What a cute little lamb... "...If you're sure, then...Okay. I trust you." she muttered, turning away as she started walking away, only for her to look back at him and yell "Make sure you stay safe too, okay?! We have to escape this place together!" He raised his arm and waved dismissively, barely able to keep himself from laughing, as he started running and stalking the annoying survivors who actually thought they'd have such an easy game!

No, no, clearly not with him!

First, he slashed one of the survivors and put him on a hook, then mori'ed another and took a really cool selfie with their bloody face, and the last one he just messed around with, before repeatedly stabbing his back and throwing him in a corner, just where the Hatch was.

Those idiots thought they could escape him.

Think again.

He wasn't that idiot 'Legion', or that lame ass Amanda. Four lame thugs who can't do a simple job properly, or Jigsaw's useless lackey. Keh.

And at least he was fun, unlike Boring Michael! I mean, look at this masterpiece he made, it's a perfect piece of art! He even wrote Y/N's name on the wall in front of the hatch, so she could see and appreciate his work!

A loud noise that resounded through the place made him realise that, as he was having his fun playing with the obsolete Survivors, his cute little Y/N had her fun repairing generators, meaning that the exits could be activated, if he wasn't careful.

He had to find her quick.

Not that it was difficult for the Master of Stalking, especially since she was so clueless that she didn't even crouch to hide, or at least try to hide in lockers.

There she was...! Look at her, watching everything like a frightened meerkat! Aww, how he wanted to boop that cute nose of hers~! Maybe he could even let some blood paint her nose, and make fun of her, calling her Rudolph!

Ahh, Ghostface, you're so funny!

Yeah, Ghostface, I KNOW, right?!

"Yo, Y/N, over here! I found the hatch! Come on!" he waved his arms up in the air, yelling for her, and the look of sparkling glee on her face as soon as she saw him...Wasn't she such an adorable dummy~? "Ghostface, you're okay! I got so worried when I didn't see you in so long! I heard screams, and I thought something happened to you! I got so scared that I ran away and tried to do the last generators...And then a loud noise almost deafened me, and I had no idea what to do." she gesticulated rapidly, making him chuckle in amusement. Of course, he was worried for nothing. She wouldn't realise what she'd have to do, even if it bit her leg. Hmm, actually...~ "Nahhhh, I'm cool, haven't see the killer. Here, take the key, it will unlock the hatch. Less'goooo~!" he put his arm around her shoulder, guiding her casually where the hatch was, making sure she didn't see his work of art yet. "Oh, so this is the Hatch, huh? It looks scary. Are you sure this isn't some ladder that leads straight to hell or something? It looks...Shady." she muttered, looking at the dark abyss down below. "Don't worry, chickadee, ain't that long of a ride down. It's like a bunker filled with survivors, you'll be okay. They'll tell you what to do from then on. If you're scared, take this flashlight. See? You can see the bottom of the ladder. You'll be okay." he chuckled, weaving the flashlight around. "Wait...You're not coming down with me?" she gasped, her eyes carefully searching for the truth in his...Covered face. "I'd go down on you any day, sugar, but maybe next time we get to play around." he laughed crudely watching her frowning, flustering face. "H-Hey, don't be a jerk! I'm just worried about you!" she muttered, looking away, hoping her hair would cover her blushing face. "Hahaha, you're so fun to tease, Y/N. Only one person can go through the hatch. But s'all cool, I just gotta open up the door, since you did a great job with the gens. We'll see each other later, I can promise you that. Can't get rid of me that easily." he sniggered under his mask, waiting in anticipation until the girl realises his true nature. "Mhh...Alright...If you're so sure..." she muttered, shakily stepping down a few steps, only to be stopped by the man who took out a camera. "Wanna take a selfie before we finish this? Y'know, your first game, and a victory nonetheless...Come on, Smile for me, Sweetcheeks~!" he got on his knees, raising his mask a bit, before gluing himself to her body, one of his arms extending with the camera, while with the other he grabbed her face, kissing her cheek, making sure he guides her eyesight to his masterpiece, and as soon as he heard her gasp, he took the photo.

It was worth more than all the money in the world.

"Y-You...? You were the killer...?!" awww, look at her tremble! Her eyes were glistering with tears, and her plump, rosy bottom lip was quivering in betrayal. "You're too cute for this world, Y/N." he harshly put his mask down, before showing the girl the selfie he took as he mori'ed one of the survivors, and waved her goodbye with his knife, as she quickly descended down the ladder, soft whimpers echoing through the place.

"Till we see each other again, sweet cheeks~." the Killer rose to his feet, slamming down the hatch with his boot and wiping the blood from his knife with his latex glove, before laughing loudly at the endearing experience he just had.

If THAT was the reaction she had when seeing his little gift for her, imagine her cute faces when he'd actually go down on her, as he promised~.

#dbd #dead by daylight #dbd x reader #dbd imagine #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight imagine #ghostface #ghostface x reader #ghostface imagine #ghostface dbd #dbd ghostface #dbd ghostface x reader #danny johnson #danny johnson imagine #danny johnson x reader #jed olsen #jed olsen x reader #jed olsen imagine

[cycat4077]

Proposing Permission

Summary: You and Sonny have been together for a year but your idea of celebrating is slightly different than his. Set during S18 - roughly November 2016. Pairing: Sonny x Reader Warnings: None, except fluff...and maybe suggestive hints here and there ;) Words: 2479 AO3 here

Technically part 13 in the Changes verse, but can act as a stand-alone, too!

“Mom!” you exclaim as soon as you hear her ‘hello?’ on the end of the line. “You'll never guess what just happened! – Wait, how'd you know? – He did? Of course, he did!” you laugh happily, flashing a bright smile up at Sonny who sits beside you on the sofa.

Sonny would give you the abridged version of the events that led up to this moment later, but at the time, things went a little like this:

-x-

“Uh, Carisi? Where are we going? The turn-off for the I-87 South, is that-a-way…” Amanda turns her body towards the traffic junction that passes by. She then whips back around to stare at her partner in the diver’s seat, a disgruntled look on her face.

“I need ta make a detour,” he states, eyes never leaving the highway.

“But we’re on a case!” she protests, growing irritated.

“Yeah, but we did what we came upstate to do. Got some answers, relayed them to Lieu. Technically, we’re off duty right now.” Sonny taps the wheel with his thumbs, trying to avoid his partner's gaze.

But Amanda Rollins is not one to concede so easily. “Tell me where we’re going, Dominick,” she drops her voice to a stern tone, eyes boring into the side of Sonny’s head.

Sonny lets out a nervous breath and says your name. “Remember how her parents live upstate? Well…” he reaches into the breast pocket of his suit jacket, producing a velvet box. Amanda gasps and nabs it from his grasp. She flips the little box open, finding a ring. “I wanna propose,” admits Sonny, “but I wanna ask her folks first.”

Dragging her eyes away from the box, Rollins frowns. “It’s twenty-sixteen, Sonny…you don’t need parental permission anymore.”

“I know, I know,” dismisses Sonny. “But that’s how my pa did it, and, she’s really close with her parents. It seems right to ask ‘em first.”

Amanda smiles in spite of herself. The gesture is very much a ‘Sonny Carisi’ thing to do. So, she cracks a joke instead. “What’re you gonna do? Salute her dad and say: ‘Requesting permission to marry your daughter, sir!’”

“Rawllins,” he groans, trying to act annoyed while keeping his eyes on the road.

“Do what you gotta do, partner,” she winks before turning her attention back to the box. “This ring is gorgeous!”

-x-

The drive was absolutely beautiful. Being October, the further away from concrete Sonny and Amanda drove, the denser the colourful forests became. It was picture perfect and Sonny’s only wish was that you could have been along to see it too.

Pulling up to your childhood home, Sonny leaves Amanda in the passenger’s seat. Afterall, this detour had to be relatively quick to prevent Lieu from breathing down his neck about it.

As Sonny makes his way to the door, his legs are a little wobbly and his pulse is racing. He has met your parents before and they adore him, yet, as he waits for his knock to be answered, his nerves get the better of him. This is a huge step and he hopes that they believe him worthy of it.

Then the door clicks open to reveal your mother. “Sonny!” she exclaims happily, but immediately her face falls. “Is everything okay?” In hindsight, an unannounced, unaccompanied visit does seem a little concerning.

Clueing in, Sonny immediate puts your mother at ease. “Yeah, yeah!” he reassures with a smile. “Work brought me upstate and I, uh, I wanted ta ask y’both somethin’ while I was up here.”

“Of course, of course!” Your mother ushers Sonny into the house before giving him a giant hug. Just as she releases him your father walks into the room, coming over with a large smile and firm handshake.

“Sir,” greets Sonny with a nod.

The three of them then take a seat at the dining room table; your mother unsurprisingly offers Sonny everything in her fridge. Once satisfied that he’s not lying about not being hungry, she continues. “So, son, what’s on your mind?”

The Italian swallows nervously. He looks to his fingers, thrumming them on the table top while his right knee bounces anxiously. Finally, he begins to speak: “Well, as you know, your daughter and I have been together for a while now and, we love each other very much. I love her very much.” A grin begins to break out on your mom’s face, her intuition giving her a good idea of where the conversation is headed. “And I, uh,” continues Sonny, “well, it seemed only right for me ta ask the two of you first. I w-wanna ask her ta marry me.”

Suspicions confirmed, your mother squeals with delight, grabbing onto your father’s arm and giving it a loving squeeze.

“I got a ring already and everything, if ya wanna see it,” Sonny adds quickly as if it will reenforce how committed he is to you. He pulls out the box once more and hands it over to your mom.

“Oh, Sonny,” she sighs looking up to your boyfriend. “She’s going to absolutely love it.”

“So, I, uh, have both your blessings then?” His blue eyes dart nervously back and forth between your parents.

Finally, your dad chimes in. “Of course!” he exclaims happily, his voice choking up ever so slightly. “You’re a good man and I couldn’t imagine my girl with anyone else.”

Sonny’s stomach does a somersault as he is immediately flooded with relief. “Thank ya!” he leaps to his feet. Your parents stand with him, both delivering their future son-in-law a squeezing hug. Parting, Sonny reluctantly explains that he can’t stay and that he must be getting back to the city.

“Alright, hon,” your mother coos. “Let us know what happens. Your secret is safe with us for now, but we’ll be waiting anxiously by the phone for the happy news!”

“Will do,” beams Sonny before he heads back to the squad car. Your parents wave him goodbye until he’s out of sight.

-x-

It’s your anniversary! One complete year of you and Sonny (finally) getting together! But…the universe really didn’t care about that. Nope! Because a faculty meeting was called on the one day where you didn’t have classes to teach. It ran from midday and into the evening and there was no possible way of getting out of it either. You loved your job, you really did, but today was supposed to be for you and Sonny. Nothing fancy, of course, but you had planned a lazy morning, followed up with cooking together and turning it into a romantic evening celebration.

“Uhhggghhh!” you groan, hanging your head and slouching your shoulders.

Sonny places his warm hands on your arms, grinning. “It’s alright, sweetheart.” You can feel those blue eyes shining down on you and, the next thing you know, a finger is gingerly tilting your chin up towards his. “I ain’t mad at all, okay? Shit happens. Jeez, how many times have I hadta cancel a date with you ‘cause I got called in or hadta work late?”

You bunch your mouth at the corner, frustrated. “I know, but it’s our anniversary and I was looking forward to spending all day with you!”

“So was I, but we can still make the most of it.” He kisses you on the nose. “I’ll go ahead ‘n make dinner and then when ya get home we can celebrate.”

“You sure? It was supposed to be a team effort. I can just grab some takeout on the way home –”

“Nonsense,” Sonny grins. “Besides, my cookin’ is way better than any takeout in the city.” His words make you laugh. “There’s that beautiful smile,” he beams, sweeping the hair back from your eyes.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, doll. Now, go on before you’re late ‘n try not ta fall asleep.”

You give Sonny a sweet kiss and make your way to the door. Before exiting, you flash a sultry look over your shoulder at your smiling boyfriend. “I promise I’ll make it up to you later, babe. It’s just a shame you have to wait so long to see what’s underneath this dress.” You slip out the door before you’re able to see the sign of the cross Sonny makes in attempt to absolve himself of his sinful thoughts.

-x-

The journey back home never felt so exhausting. Maybe it was the fact that the meeting seemed to drag on forever, especially when all you could think about was curling up next to Sonny. Your feet ached in your pumps and you cursed your wardrobe choice. Though, you were still new at the college and thus wanted to make a professional impression.

Once you finally reach your floor, a distinct cooking aroma floats down the hallway. Your stomach grumbles, knowing exactly which apartment is the origin and eager to taste what smells so delicious.

Opening your door, you are greeted by your wonderful boyfriend and his smiling eyes. He’s dressed up in a crisp shirt and slacks. “Welcome home, sweetheart and happy anniversary!”

You smile up at him and step into his outstretched arms. His attire seemed a bit formal, but you weren’t complaining. The way button up shirts hugged his arms and torso always made your face flush and heart beat a little faster. Those same arms also fit perfectly around you when he held you close.

As you begin to withdraw from his embrace however, you notice just how much Sonny is perspiring. “Babe, you alright?” Your brow knits with concern. “You’re sweating a bunch…”

Sonny quickly averts his gaze and turns towards the kitchen. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” he gives a dismissive wave. “The oven’s been on all day.”

You know him well enough to tell that something is not quite right and his half-hearted answer gives you reason to follow him and press the issue. But as you round the corner, you’re stopped dead in your tracks by an elaborate display.

Sonny has gone all out. A hearty meal sits steaming on a table set for two, a single rose in a crystal vase resides at the center, and he’s even arranged some of your candles to provide low lighting. The sight of it all leaves you feeling as though your heart will flutter right out of your chest.

"Sonny," you whisper, hand over your heart. "You didn't have to do all this." You then peer up at him with glassy eyes.

"I wanted tonight to be special. Just you ‘n me celebrating a whole magical year of being together.”

Closing the distance, you lean up and place your lips tenderly to his. Sonny bends forward, deepening the kiss. You run a hand tenderly up the front of his shirt feeling the contours of his muscles beneath your fingers. Sonny reaches to cover your hand with his, grasping it carefully and reluctantly pulling it away. Breaking apart, he smiles, "Food's gonna get cold, doll."

The two of you sit down to a quiet, romantic dinner, clinking glasses in a toast to your relationship. But Sonny still has beads of sweat forming along his brow. "Babe, are you sure you're alright?" you point to his forehead. "It's not that hot in here..."

He swallows thickly, looking away. "Yeah...I'm just a little nervous is all." Sonny then focuses on you with big, blue eyes.

Yours narrow in confusion. Nervous? Why would he be nervous? It just us here...

Sonny flashes you shy smile before reaching across the table to take your hand in his. He stares at it in contemplation as he runs his thumb lovingly over your knuckles.

Biting his lip, he shifts those gorgeous eyes back to yours. "We've been through a lot in a year, doll," he begins. "And last summer I never knew how my life would change when you walked through that squad room door. I never knew that I could love someone so completely until I fell in love with you. My whole heart is yours and -"

"Sonny!" you release a sweet laugh. "You don't owe me a speech! I know how much you love me, silly! And I hope you know how much I love you too."

Suddenly, Sonny seems a little terrified. Had he rehearsed this or something?

"Just hear me out, ‘kay?" he implores following a shaky breath.

You smile softly and squeeze his hand signaling for him to continue.

"Believe me, doll, I've never felt more loved by anyone but you. I love waking up with ya in the mornin' and fallin' asleep together at night. My heart skips a beat thinkin' about a future with you. So, I guess that's why I'm sweatin'."

All of a sudden the warmth of Sonny's hand disappears. He shifts to get up from the table, slipping his fingers into his pocket. Then you realize that he's getting down on one knee. Your heart begins to thunder in your chest and a gasp catches in your throat.

Sonny's eyes lock onto yours as he produces a velvet box and opens it. There sits a white gold ring topped by a dainty solitaire diamond. Your eyes immediately rim with tears as you hear Sonny softly speak your name. "Will you marry me?"

A large smile erupts upon your face and you instantly blurt out a "yes!"

Sonny's expression changes to one of pure love. He delicately slips the ring on your finger and quickly rises to capture your lips in a kiss.

You wrap your arms around his neck and he effortlessly scoops you up. "I'm so happy," you speak against his lips, eliciting a tight squeeze from your fiancé.

Fiancé! Sonny Carisi is your fiancé! The man you love with your whole heart. You've always believed that it isn’t the ring on their finger that make two people married – that’s at least how committed you feel towards Sonny – Yet now, you couldn’t be happier to make what you share official.

"I'm so happy too, doll! I love you! I love you! I love you!" Sonny reciprocates in between swift kisses to your cheeks, nose and lips. Then his eyes darken and he bows his head towards your neck, nibbling and suckling at the sensitive skin that resides there.

You sigh, a tingling sensation spreading throughout your body. God, is he good at this! But then, your mind comes back to reality and you gently, albeit reluctantly, push him away. “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!” you chant, tapping your hands lightly on his chest.

Sonny pulls back but his eyes still hungrily flicker to where his lips were focused mere moments before.

“I have to go call my mom! She’d kill me if she knew I didn’t tell her right away.” You watch as Sonny smirks. “But then I promise we’ll celebrate properly…after all, you still haven’t seen what’s underneath this dress.”

-x- 

Fluffy enough for ya? Heehee

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