#And waste the chance that Id been given

[breadsoup00]

In the back of my mind careless whisper is always playing on repeat

[snurtsnurt]

Ok y’all but Careless Whisper is actually such a bop tho

[fruitybashir]

I hope you've seen this and it's why you picked Careless Whispers. Otherwise it's a great coincidence lol

(hope that link works for you. It's the vid of Bojan rolling over in bed to Careless Whispers playing)

funny thing is: i saw both bojan + careless whisper instances after id already put the song into the story kfkdn which felt so insane. bojan and i have some sort of telepathic connection or smthn idk

[kamuro-junrenka]

So what was the infinite wealth after all

[elv-arts]

(ID in alt text)

Just some doodles of an attempt at a gravity falls transformers au thing.

Notes from my notes app under the read more

Stan + Ford emerged on pre-war cybertron and were originally trained by mentor Fibrick and his assisstant + conjunx Caryn as merchants/factory workers?? Shermie was another trainee who was pretty close to them, but at a different point in training.

They were almost identical. Stanford was created with a "defective" protoform. As a result his hands each have 6 fingers. While they could be replaced, they are otherwise pretty good quality so it would have been a waste of resources.

While the Stan twins were young, they found an old crashed ship and dreamed of fixing it up and ditching their home planet to explore the galaxy.

Ford gets noticed by an actual prominent scientist, who might actually give him a chance to move up in the world if he pulls off his current project. We know how that works out.

Stan gets caught up in shady underground shit + off-world criminal circles trying to figure things out on his own. Once the war started, made enemies with rogue cons. Remained a "neutral" party - enough bots + cons wanted him dead already. Went through so many identities + alt modes.

Ford manages to squeeze his way into a not-so-prestigious school of sciences. He's hard headed and argued pretty well for the benefits of a specific course in his line of work. Meets Fiddleford, a scrap processing bot from off-world in a similar situation, pursuing engineering. Immediately become friends + have eachother's backs. Keep proving themselves again + again, climbing their way into areas of study they were told they'd never touch.

Fiddleford becomes a successful engineer and settles into his new role.

Ford continues his studies, but the war starts and things are really heating up. Eventually heads out to a distant planet with organic life and some weird phenomena to conduct research, and winds up in gravity falls. Fidds leaves his conjunx and apprentice to help Ford as soon as he calls. Understandably they're not pleased given the circumstances.

And the rest is history.

Dipper and Mabel are young and emerged on a recovering post-war cybertron(?). One of their supervisors was mentored by Shermie so heard about Stanford's upward success back in the day. Pulling old favours, sent them to "Stanford" on earth to learn from him for a short while. Thought it would also be a good opportunity for them to see more of the galaxy + gain experience while still having someone keep an eye on them.

[otter-pup]

The final egg drops from you cunt and falls to the pile below, and you can even see a few start to shake slightly. You took so long to lay them that the first ones you laid had begun hatching. It must've been a sign of things to come.

The next tentacle wastes no time thrusting into your cunt. It seemed to have been watching when the tentacle wrapped around you had argued with the other, as it takes its time laying the first egg into you. The first egg moves slowly, slow enough for you to acclimate to the size without any of the stretching liquid needed. But a problem arrises when the tip of the egg kisses your cervix.

Despite your cervix having been stretched so wide so many times, it's an effort and even a bit painful to even get a quarter of the egg into your womb. However, your cervix eventually gives way and the egg pops into your womb. And just like you had imagined, the egg has you looking due with sextuplets. A singular egg has you this big? There's so many more to come, how massive will you get from this clutch then?

The tentacles takes its time pumping the eggs into you, partly as to not hurt you and partly because of the first large tentacle seemingly watching it like a hawk. The tentacle wrapped around your body and moving as your belly grows seems absolutely enamored with you.

It loves to secret two liquids over your skin; the stretching one you're so used to and an aphrodisiac one. Along with the aphrodisiacs being pumped into you, your skin is so sensitive that it almost makes you moan. The tentacle also enjoys squeezing around you and jostling the eggs in your ever-growing womb around. It can't help itself, your reactions are just too adorable.

And it'll be there to watch and help as you struggle to lay this next clutch. Isn't that amazing, little eggslut incubator? Being chosen by one of the older tentacles? I'm sure it has your heart racing.

🐺

i watch the eggs id laid first start to shake as the other tentacle lined up with my cunt. im hoping it’ll go the same way for this next one’s eggs, that ill be able to lay them before they hatch, to take one more clutch before im stuck incubating them until they hatch.

the first egg presses into and through my cunt, slowly, before getting almost completely stuck at my cervix, and im forced to almost completely give up on any hope of laying these ones. if it takes this much to force them in—my whining and gasping as my cervix is forced to stretch even wider—then i don’t think ill be able to get it back out.

the tentacle laying the eggs seems unconcerned, and so does the one around me—soothing my whines by rubbing over my belly with more of the stretching liquid and aphrodisiac, making me whine and clench around the tentacle inside me. it must help it finish laying this first egg, since it slips into my womb seconds later, making me cry out as my stomach swells.

im so big already. I try to imagine how big I’ll end up, but I can’t. even still, i whine and beg for it—im a good eggslut, i can take it all. any concerns of not being able to lay the eggs is gone, replaced by such a strong desire to carry them.

the tentacle around me squeezes for the first time, reminding me of the jostling ill have to expect from it later, when I’m swollen beyond recognition and waiting to be given the chance to lay—or in this case, maybe waiting for the eggs to hatch. i whine at the squeeze, and at the stretch of my cunt around the next egg pushing inside me.

[its-the-sa]

Here's another giant ask because I've been thinking about this for a while and I needed to share it with somebody.

The scavenger chieftain is really merciful towards Arti, given the circumstances. When I first reached that part, I was expecting to be sniped by a spear from across the map. But he doesn't attack you, despite having every reason to. Like, the Metropolis scavengers most likely have literally nothing to do with the scavengers that killed Arti's kids, and it's not like they understand why Arti is doing what she's doing. The scav king knows Arti has killed countless members of his group, probably people he knew personally and cared about. Maybe even his family.

But he doesn't attack you. You have to start the fight. He just points to the exit. He wants you to back away, to stop before you take this final step and seal your fate. He should have all the reasons in the world to want you dead by now, but he gives you a final chance to walk away.

It's what made me interested in the scav king as a character. For some reason, he doesn't want to fight you. One idea I had is that he's well aware of Arti being trapped in a cycle of violence, either due to having experienced something similar or his understanding of karma. (He has the mark of communication and I'm willing to bet he's met the Metropolis echo, who was also trapped in a cycle of violence. He's probably heard an explanation of the cycles and karma from Five Pebbles as well.) So, he knows very well what Arti is getting herself into and hopes that maybe she can still see reason before it's too late.

Another idea I had, and this is totally fanon and not supported by anything in-game but I thought it sounded fun- what if they knew each other before? Like, what if they were friends all the way back when Arti lived in the Garbage Wastes and wasn't hostile to scavengers, and the scav king was just a normal dude. Just a regular John J. Scavenger. Eventually, he finds the citizen ID drone and brings a bunch of his friends to the Metropolis, gets the mark of communication from Five Pebbles (who, I imagine at this point, doesn't really care that much if the scavengers live in his city and only gets mad at them once they start ripping out bits of his can). Flash forward years later and this normal scav is now a chieftain with a prosperous tribe, and he's wondering what happened to that weird red slugcat he met all those years ago when they re-appear out of nowhere and begin violently murdering his tribe members. That would be A Little Awkward Huh.

That's just my silly little headcanon, I'd love to hear your thoughts though. How do you interpret the scav king's actions here?

bro, you pretty much just summed up exactly why i ship them lol.

the scav king is the ONE person who refuses to treat arti like a monster, even when she's so far gone that she even disgusts and horrifies herself. he's the one person who will not feed into her spiral of self-loathing, no matter how hard she tries to earn his hatred. he refuses to strike first no matter how many times she tries to kill him. he always tries to reason with her. he always fights one-on-one, even though he has an entire kill squad ready to back him up.

but he doesnt let her victimize him, either. he gives her a choice, and he respects the choice she makes even when it's the wrong one. he kills her without hesitation when she forces his hand, but then he's always ready to offer mercy again, always ready to give her another chance.

and i just feel like that's exactly what arti needs. someone who is both compassionate enough and resilient enough to weather the storm of her rage until it burns itself out, and still be willing to offer mercy when she's finally ready to accept it.

... what was this ask about again? lol

RIGHT, ok. so. motivation. lets do this.

first of all I love the idea that they knew each other in the past. it would make a lot of sense, and it'd fit perfectly with my headcanon that arti used to be friends with the garbage wastes scavs before everything went to hell. and I love the drama that would come from two old friends having to fight each other to the death.

it's not the case in my personal headcanon though, just because I already have a backstory fleshed out for the scav king that would make it pretty much impossible for them to have met before.

however, i DO think that he sympathizes with arti because he's been though something similar. I think he lost someone very important to him when he was young, and just like arti, he also threw himself into a futile quest for revenge because he didnt know how else to cope. but instead of going on solo rampage, he raised a whole ass army and started a war.

he got to where he is through sheer spite and thirst for vengeance. he never really wanted to be a leader; he just wanted manpower to throw at his enemy. but after seeing his people get killed in service to him, he realized he is responsible for them now, and he needs to put their safety and wellbeing before his vendetta. so, while he is still angry and he does still carry his old grudge, it no longer consumes his life. he's learned that there are more important things to live for.

so, yeah, he definitely understands arti's rage. and he sympathizes with her, because he has his own people's blood on his hands, too. but he's learning, and he's trying to be better, and he believes that arti can be better too if someone gives her a reason to try.

...also, his default personality has 0.00 aggression and 0.99 sympathy stats, so he is arguably just wired to be Like That, lol

(i say 'default' because technically his stats are randomized each time you fight him, but he always uses the same sprite, which is scav king ID 8875. so to me that ID's stats are the canon ones, lol )

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

One Captain's Daughter - Rooster

Pairing: Rooster / OC (Amara Blackwood-Mitchell)

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Light Angst, Daddy Issues, Arguing, Complicated Family and Relationship Dynamics; Female OC from Third Person POV

This work, all of my other works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only.

Chapter Summary: Amara Blackwood-Mitchell arrives in Miramar for her next assignment. And she can't stop running into familiar faces along the way.

Heading to Miramar, California—the sight of her parents’ ill-fated romantic story that led to her pathetic existence—was not on Amara Blackwood’s preferred to do list for the month, but she couldn’t argue with the Pentagon.

And that’s Amara Blackwood to you. Not Amara Mitchell. Not when the Pentagon was involved.

Her sensible professional heels clacked against the pavement as she walked quickly towards the base offices . Her dark ponytail swayed just a bit as she flashed her ID and badge to the guards on duty. The lock clicked open, and Amara nodded in thanks to the guards before heading inside the refreshingly cold building.

Amara glanced at her watch as she entered the elevator. She was early, but she was quite sure that the military preferred for her to be early rather than late. And besides, Vice Admiral Simpson, or Cyclone as she was told to call him, wanted her to come to base as soon as she landed in San Diego. There was no time to waste in his eyes. 

Luckily for Amara, it was late enough in the day that the halls were relatively empty. Cyclone had emailed her their meeting spot ahead of time and with a quick scan of the directory, Amara found the secluded conference room at the end of the hall. She knocked lightly to announce her presence before pushing the door open.

“I hope that I’m not interrupting, but I . . .”

Amara trailed off when she locked eyes with a startled Pete Mitchell. The door shutting behind her was the only noise in the room for a few moments as the father-daughter duo locked eyes for the first time in a couple of months. Amara looked away first, pursing her lips, and turned instead to Cyclone and Warlock.

“I hope that I’m not interrupting anything, Vice Admiral Simpson, Rear Admiral Bates . . . Captain Mitchell,” she added as an afterthought. Her grip on her folders subtly tightened. “But I was told to come here as soon as I arrived in town.”

“You weren’t interrupting anything, Miss Mitchell,” Cyclone assured her with a curt nod, “and thank you for coming.”

“Of course, sir. But it’s Blackwood, sir. Miss Blackwood,” Amara corrected softly.

“My apologies. But were you ever given a callsign before, Miss Blackwood?” Cyclone asked Amara. She tried to withhold a grimace at Cyclone’s question. And she ignored the fact that Maverick's gaze was burning into her side. “For clarity purposes on base.”

“. . . Honda . . . sir," Amara grunted out.

“Ah,” Cyclone replied, recognizing the nature of the callsign. He glanced knowingly over at Maverick before returning his gaze to Amara. “I suppose that would make.”

And why did it make sense?

Because ‘Honda,’ unlike many callsigns, was an acronym. For Hands Off: Her Navy Dad is an Aviator. Or, to translate into layman's terms: fuck around and find out.

Amara hated her callsign because it wasn’t about her, but her father instead. Didn’t she deserve her own callsign if they were going to force her to have one? This was exactly why she never ever wanted to become a naval aviator—the second that they read ‘Mitchell’ on the paperwork, any chance at a fair chance went out the window.

“Honda, we were just discussing Maverick’s role in the upcoming mission,” Warlock spoke up, causing Amara to nod.

"Of course.” Amara walked over to the table and opened her folder. She handed over two packets of new paperwork to Cyclone and Warlock before straightening up. “All of the proper authorizations have been put in place, but the Pentagon is still concerned about the specifics of the mission.”

“What specifics?” Maverick asked her.

Amara paused to steady herself before slowly turning to face him.

“The Pentagon just wants to ensure that the team that they send in can get the job done correctly,” Amara replied stiffly.

She turned to her dad and straightened up a bit, clearly unhappy with how she was blindsided about the set up of this particular job.

“I see,” Maverick trailed off.

“Yes,” Amara agreed before turning back to Cyclone and Warlock. “But the Pentagon, under direction from the Commander-in-Chief, has updated their required parameters for this mission, which you can find in the marked sections of these packets.”

“Can I see these parameters?” Maverick questioned, walking over to Amara.

“Very well,” Cyclone replied gruffly, clearly not a fan of Maverick.

Amara pulled another packet out and handed it over to Maverick, though she didn’t spare him another glance. As Cyclone, Warlock, and Maverick flipped through their packets, Amara’s eyes floated up to the screen where the images of the twelve naval aviators that her Uncle Ice had personally selected for the mission were displayed.

Her eyes landed on one pilot in particular with a mustache that she would have ridiculed far more if she didn’t know the story behind why he had it.

Of course, it wasn’t bad enough that she had to run into her father here, but also Bradley, who she hadn’t seen in even longer. And under even worse circumstances, if that was believable.

“If you have no further questions, Maverick, you’re dismissed,” Cyclone stated, leaning back in his chair. “We just have basic policy and protocol questions for Honda that won’t impact your role in the preparation for this mission.”

“I don’t,” Maverick replied, handing the packet back to Amara. She took it without a glance up at him. “Until tomorrow, sirs.” Maverick turned to Amara, who continued to refuse to meet his gaze in front of Cyclone and Warlock. “Honda.”

Amara acknowledged him with a nod, but nothing else. Instead, she simply focused on Cyclone and Warlock. She pushed any thought of her father or Bradley out of her mind and just focused on the job at hand. That was why she was here in the first place.

Rehashing old shit was not what she was here to do, nor was it what she wanted to do.

~~~~~

Amara walked out of the base office building with the intention of immediately going back to her temporary residence and take a long, hot shower to get the residual cross-country flight grossness off of her. And maybe stop for a quick grocery trip on the way there.

But, alas, she would not get her quiet night.

Pulling out her keys, Amara looked up and immediately frowned when she spotted her father leaning on her rental car with his arms crossed over his chest. How he even knew that it was her car, she didn’t know, but either way, he very clearly wasn’t leaving without talking to her. Amara paused for a moment, letting out a low sigh, before walking over to him.

“Captain Mitchell, did you have additional questions on the mission?” Amara asked, trying to remain professional in public.

“Amara, please,” Maverick sighed, standing up and taking a step forward. “I . . . you never told me you were on the West Coast.”

“Yes, well, I wasn’t on the West Coast until about four hours ago,” Amara replied, glancing down at her watch. She returned her gaze to Maverick. “Besides, I was under the impression that you were probably still sitting in a Nevada base hospital after that little stunt you pulled.”

“You heard about that?” Maverick asked, wincing at her statement.

“Oh, yes. And there was nothing better than watching my boss storm around the office cursing ‘that dumbass pilot Mitchell’ for the better part of three hours. Of course, that was during the stretch of time where they thought that you were vaporized somewhere over the desert, and I was fielding calls from one rather unsympathetic and pissed off Rear Admiral Cain.”

Amara’s lips wavered a bit, which only made her force them into a harder line. Maverick didn’t need to know that she’d silently cried in a bathroom cubicle for half an hour about the fact that he was potentially killed in a stupid test run that could have easily been avoided. And about the fact that she couldn’t call anyone to talk about it since the whole thing was highly classified.

“I shouldn’t have pushed it,” Maverick admitted, causing Amara to withhold a scoff.

“And yet you never learn,” Amara replied, a bit more forcefully than she intended. “You just get Ice to bail you out and then you go off and do the exact same thing again.” Amara’s eyes narrowed into a glare that reminded Maverick all too well of the ones that her mother sent him back in the day. “You do realize that your luck is going to run out sooner rather than later, right?”

When Maverick didn’t respond, Amara had her answer. Shaking her head, Amara brushed past him, wanting nothing more than to just be alone and curl up under a blanket until she inevitably had to leave it the next morning.

“Amara, please—”

“—It’s Miss Blackwood or Honda in professional settings, Captain Mitchell,” Amara corrected, turning to shoot him another look.

“Then let’s go off base,” Maverick suggested as Amara tugged her car door open. “Please, Amara—Miss Blackwood. Let’s just talk. If we’re going to be working together and remain professional, we should talk. Now. Before the whole thing starts.”

Amara pursed her lips together again, narrowing her eyes at her father. He was clearly pleading with her, and he had pulled her whole ‘professionalism’ card and thrown it back into her face. And she had to admit that he did have a point. It was better if they got the residual awkwardness out of their systems now. Without too big of an audience.

“Fine,” she sighed, sliding into her car.

~~~~~

The Hard Deck was still quiet when Maverick and Amara walked in.

Amara tossed aside her professional suit jacket and exchanged her heels for the ratty Vans that she’d had for years. With her pressed button down and black pencil skirt, she was still going to stick out like a sore thumb at the bar, but there was nothing that she could do about that now.

“Let’s sit at the bar,” Maverick suggested, leading the way to the corner.

They sat down quietly on the padded barstools. Amara noticed the sign behind the bar but didn’t comment about it. Perhaps it was cruel to then watch her father slowly place his phone onto the bar top, which she could have easily prevented, but life was about the little things.

“You've got to be kidding me,” a familiar voice called, causing both Mitchells to look up. Penny stood in front of them, staring down Maverick with a mix of emotions that Amara really did not want to identify. "Pete."

“Penny?” Maverick returned, in disbelief.

Amara withheld an eyeroll and simply reached for her drink. She knew all about her dad's history with Penny Benjamin from Carole, Ice, and her mom. And she met Penny several times over the years. They got along fine, though Amara didn't really have an interest in developing a stronger or lasting relationship with her dad's on-and-off girlfriend.

“You remember my daughter, right?” Maverick spoke up, gesturing to Amara. Penny smiled good-naturedly at Amara, who returned it with a polite nod.

“Yes, of course. It’s good to see you again, Amara.”

“You as well, Penny.”

“You were a lot younger the last time that I saw you,” Penny stated, causing Amara to chuckle.

“Yeah, I think that I was still in high school the last time,” Amara replied, thinking back over the years.

“What are you doing in town?”

“Working for the Pentagon,” Amara explained, deciding to just leave it there.

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

"Well, I'll leave you two be," Penny replied, glancing over at Maverick, before making her exit.

Amara waited until Penny was out of earshot before turning to shoot Maverick a mildly annoyed look.

“You’re still playing games with Penny Benjamin?” Amara sighed, shaking her head. "Really?"

"What do you mean 'really'?"

"You've been going back and forth with her since before you even met Mom," Amara pointed out, taking a sip of her drink. "Make up your mind already."

"Life is complicated."

"I'm aware," Amara replied dryly, staring across the bar.

Maverick stared over at his daughter for a moment with a slightly subdued expression. Taking a sip of his own drink, Maverick cleared his throat before turning back to Amara.

“How is your mom doing these days?”

“Fine. Susan’s trying to get her to retire,” Amara replied, staring down at her drink. “Or at least take a step back so that she doesn’t overexert herself.” Amara set down her drink and stirred it around with her straw. “But you know Mom. She’s stubborn.” Amara turned to her dad. “You both are.”

“I suppose that I can’t fault you for being stubborn too then,” Maverick quipped back.

“Learned from the best,” Amara replied honestly.

“You’re still living in DC then?” Maverick asked after a brief pause.

“For now, yeah.”

“For now?” Maverick repeated, looking a bit confused. He tried to connect the puzzle pieces in his mind and let out a low sigh when he came up with a guess. “Please don’t tell me that you’re moving because of . . . what the hell was his name again?”

“Caleb,” Amara stated, shooting her father a look.

“Right . . . Caleb.”

Amara withheld an eye roll at Maverick’s tone. Caleb, her last relationship, had been her boyfriend for about seven months before she inevitably ended things. Maverick only met Caleb once when he was in town to visit her and Charlie and it hadn’t gone the best.

“You can drop the fake niceness,” Amara told Maverick bluntly. “I dumped him.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not,” Amara laughed, shaking her head at him. “You hated him.”

“Your mom didn’t like him either,” Maverick replied, causing Amara to turn her head sharply towards him. She narrowed her eyes slightly.

“Do you and Mom just gossip about my love life behind my back?” she demanded in an annoyed tone. “You have nothing better to talk about? Nothing?”

“It comes up in conversation occasionally.”

“Bullshit.”

“It does!”

“Great,” Amara muttered, shaking her head. “And if you must know, the reason why I’m considering leaving DC is because I might move into the private sector. Or maybe a different career field entirely. I don’t even know anymore.”

“Really?” Maverick asked, looking surprised at the news. “Why?”

“Better pay, more flexibility. Of course, there are drawbacks too, but . . . I just don’t think that the Pentagon is my big and final calling.” Amara stared down at the bar top, moving the condensation from her drink around with her fingertip. “At least anymore.”

“When would you switch?”

“Don’t know. I’m still not completely sure that I’d do it anytime soon,” Amara replied, shrugging her shoulders. “But we’ll see.”

“So, you’re in town for the duration mission then?” Maverick asked, shifting the topic of conversation.

“Yeah,” Amara replied softly. “I’m supposed to wait around in Miramar until they return before submitting my full report.” She took a sip of her drink and lowered her gaze. “I’m mostly just here to remind cocky naval aviators that the Pentagon isn’t allowing them to do whatever they want with taxpayer-funded planes.”

“Aviators? Plural?”

“Well, there’s a whole other generation of cocky pilots to manage. I’m sure that you’ve read their files by now,” Amara spoke, glancing around the bar. “Besides, you don’t become a TOP GUN pilot by not believing in yourself. Some people just believe in themselves a little too much.”

"I know the feeling," Maverick replied, causing Amara to turn back to her dad.

"And that's why if you want to keep your current job, you need to stop pissing off admirals,” Amara warned Maverick quietly. It was his turn to avoid her gaze. “I’m serious. Cyclone doesn’t like you already. If Ice wasn’t his superior, I’m quite sure that he’d find a way to get you off the mission in a second.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“No, but it was heavily implied.” Amara shook her head and let out a breath. “He’s the definition of by-the-book and you’re the definition of throwing-out-the-book. And I can already see you plotting how to scare the aviators tomorrow.”

“I’m not plotting,” Maverick insisted.

“Yes, you are. You have that look in your eye,” Amara replied, gesturing to her own eyes. “The one that Mom says that I inherited from you.” She glanced over at the naval aviators gathering around the pool table. “You’re going to put them through the ringer.”

“You know any of them?” Maverick inquired, turning from the pool table back to his daughter.

“Just the one.” Amara trailed off, leaving her implication hanging in the air. Maverick nodded slowly, looking down at his drink.

“When was the last time you talked to him?” he asked quietly.

“Two years ago. About,” Amara replied truthfully, swirling the remaining liquid around in her glass. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah . . . it has.”

Maverick paused for a moment, clearly caught up in the memories and never-ending cycle of guilt. The same cycle of guilt that Amara had called him out on numerous times as an angsty teenager when she was feeling particularly abandoned by him and his need to escape his emotions. It usually followed some kind of dumb decision on Maverick’s part that resulted in Charlie getting a call.

Amara knew that her father carried a lot of burdens that he never felt like sharing with anyone else—because that would mean actually talking about his problems—but he always had a particularly shrunken expression when he was thinking about Goose and Rooster. It was his own version of the thousand-yard stare.

“Can I get you guys anything else?” Penny asked, walking over.

“He probably needs another round,” Amara vouched for Maverick, “but I’m all set, thank you.”

“Another round?” Penny questioned Maverick, who smiled and nodded.

“I’ll be back,” Amara replied, glancing between Penny and Maverick.

She didn’t particularly want to watch her dad and his on-and-off-again girlfriend flirt, so it was as good of a time as any to take a trip to the bathroom. But, as she was washing her hands, Amara heard the bell ring and instantly knew that Penny caught Maverick with his phone on the bar top.

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” she muttered to herself, drying her hands.

Making her way back out to the bar, Amara didn’t miss the sudden rush from the crowd to get their orders filled. Including one particularly smug aviator—Jake Seresin, if she recalled correctly from the files—who was definitely going to regret his attitude tomorrow.

“You sure you don’t want another round?” Penny asked Amara as she approached. “Your dad’s paying.”

“Yes, I heard,” Amara replied, shaking her head in disappointment. “But I’m all set. I should probably go grocery shopping and work on my files before tomorrow.” Pulling out her wallet, Amara handed over a twenty to Penny. “For our drinks. I’m sure that he’d be happy to cover the rest of it.”

“I thought that I was buying you a drink,” Maverick pointed out, turning to his daughter.

“You’re assuming that your card is going to work,” Amara reminded him, putting her wallet away. “I distinctly remember being on the phone with the credit card company for you a couple years ago for the better part of two hours while you were temporarily docked in Hawaii.”

“I’ll get the next one then,” Maverick offered.

“If you can finish paying off this tab first, that is. You’re lucky that it’s still early.” Amara finished off her drink before setting the empty glass back on the bar top. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” she suggested, pulling her purse strap onto her shoulder.

“Yeah. Thank you for coming. And for buying.”

“Bye, Dad.”

Amara bid goodbye to Penny as well before turning for the door. The bar was quickly filling up and she was glad to be out of there before it got too rowdy. Or before her father inevitably made an even bigger fool of himself. Mostly the second reason.

Amara walked down the sidewalk, keys in hand, and slipped into her car. She closed the door and then began the task of finding the keys to her temporary residence in her purse. And then there was the matter of trying to locate her sunglasses in the disaster of a passenger seat mess. Amara briefly glanced up in time to see a familiar Hawaiian-shirt-wearing mustached aviator walking down the boardwalk. And what did she do next, you ask?

Get out of the car like an adult and say hello?

Simply just stay where she was and wait for him to pass by without incident?

No and no because those would have been too normal of a response.

No, instead, Amara flattened herself down, ignoring how the emergency brake and gear stick dug uncomfortably into her abdomen and hoped and prayed that Bradley didn’t see her. Because that was an adult response to the situation.

Great balls of fire, she was so fucked.

[the-kr8tor]

AND IM NEVER GONNA DANCE AGAIN 🪩🕺

GUILTY FEET HAVE GOT NO RHYTHM 🥁

THOUGH ITS EASY TO PRETEND

I KNOW YOURE NOT A FOOOOOOOOL

I SHOULDVE KNOWN BETTER THAN TO CHEAT A FRIEND

AND WASTE A CHANCE THAT ID BEEN GIVEN

SO IM NEVER GONNA DANCE AGAIN

THE WAY

I DANCED WITH YOUUUUU

(Now imagine a royal au where Hobie and R fought and now R refused to go to the ball which Hobie went to. So now Hobie is heart broken and misses dancing with R so he’s kinda living this song)

-❄️

DANCING QUEEN 🎶 🪩 🕺 (I believe that Hobie danced to this at least one time)

NOOOOOO I can imagine him just standing there in the corner while he patiently waits for r 😭

[gideongrovel]

Bro 👏🏾 is 👏🏾 yapping 👏🏾 about 👏🏾 that 👏🏾 man 👏🏾 again!!! 👏🏾

I wish I could remember more about what my thoughts on E/nel were when I first watched S/kypiea all those years ago,,,,, i was like what 10?? maybe 11? maybe 12?? idk maths isn't mathing,, and idr if I met him first through the Funi dub, or though my copy of Grand Adventure on gamecube, or the manga itself I can't blame myself for not remembering since its been so fucking long,,, and OP is one of those things that's quite literally always been apart of my life,,,,, my obsession coming and going in waves, but still,,, idr it never not being a thing in my life,,,, 😭

but anywhoooo I have figured out a couple small pieces to the puzzle of why i have snapped all these years later, and why i want that man (E/nel)!!! Okay so since in my youth I use to ship with Z/oro (I do not anymore, i personally feel too grown for him, and im just not into him in a shippy way anymore) but when I was younger and into Z/oro, his S/kypiea outfit was my absolute favorite (gonna mention Grand Adventure again- id always pick that as his outfit in that game lol), but i think that was my main focus when watching/rewatching that arc back then lmao,,, And while im not religious now, i use to be a christian when i was younger,,, so E/nel's whole god shtick probs was an ick to me back then,,,, so thats also a potential reason of why i didnt feel any shippy feels to him when i was younger,,,, 🤔

but now in this current day and age,,, those barriers weren't there,,,,, god complexes are hot to me- i love blasphemy and i didnt have someone else drawing my attention,,,, so i think thats a couple reasons of why these feels arose,,, My preferences with characters i lust after is different now then it was back then, and he checks alot of boxes for me "maybe, just maybe, its mental illness innit" so its not surprising when i really think about it,,,,,, its just funny it took over a decade to like smack me in the face,,,,, especially cause ive seen the arc many of times so i had many chances for it to happen 😭😭😭

i cant find it but i saw diagram once, it was like two separate lines meeting, then going their separate ways, then meeting back up again,,, and thats what this feels like??? not in like a rekindled old flame way,,,, cause he never was a flame, he was just someone i knew,,,, idk i guess its more like an "Oh. Oh." moment,,, like actually catching romantic feel for him (and not just sexual ones like i originally thought it was) has felt kinda comforting in some odd way??? that may sound off the wall given the type of character he is lmao,,,,,

But my thoughts are like it was a "wrong place, wrong time" back in the day,,,, but now,,, now we found our ways back to each other, it may have taken some time but things have aligned perfectly,,, and we're together now, and that is what matters in the end,,,,

idk what im on about truly,,,, articulating my emotions for this man feels *make vague idk gesture* if you wasted your time reading this im legit sorry 💀 I just love E/nel alot,,,, and this development of feelings these past couple months has my head spinning

[omi-papus]

This isnt something I actually belive to be true so I wouldnt call it a theory or even really a headcanon (even though thats what it is) but Id like to think that Ragatha is a doll because she suffered from severe parentification during her life. She is the very first daughter of a large cult/family, and this family belives that one should have as many children as humanly posible. And what this results in is Ragathat as soon as she can so much as speak gets put in charge of a multitude of siblings and cusins. But shes never actually given any authority over them, shes not allowed to punish them or decide for them, thats suposedly not her place as she isnt a mother herself, so she has to keep them fed, dressed, happy and healthy but cant tell them to stop stealing her food. As a result none of the actually respect her and treat her like shit. Unlike her siblings Ragatha never got any type of college fund and actually graduated from highschool in her twenties because she kept getting held back because she couldnt even go to school half the time from how busy she was even though she knows kindergarden, middleschool and highschool curriculums from front to back because of how much shes tutored the kids. She barely ever sees her parents who are constantly in and out of hospital because her mothers endless pregnancies cause her to be severely sick and unable to care for the kids she keeps bringing into the world, similarly for her aunts and the men work like dogs to keep that many children fed so for the most part Ragatha is alone at home.

Any time she does see her parents and uncles they are constantly on and on about fertility and a womans “prime” chastazing her for “wasting her eggs” because she dosent have children of her own. They do not care about all of the child care shes already doing. By 16 she was already getting bereated about missing her chance and aging past her fertile years and it gets worse every single year, her birthdays are dreaded and she hates how her family remembers them. They only scream at her those days. Nearing thirty, her family utterly disgusted by her, the kids calling her old and a hag. They finally have enough and they arrange her with some guy shes never met before. They get married fast and try for a baby on her wedding night, shes pregnant imediatly. Thats the first and only time shes ever had sex. She goes through the pregnancy and when she gets pulled into the digital circus is actually right after her child is born.

And thats how she feels, like an old, worn out childrens toy. A doll thats been ripped apart and patched together by herself. In real life her button eye is actually damaged from a time a kid threw rocks at her. She is exhausted and obsolete. An old rag.

Shes actually not all that affected by the circus.

In the digital world she dosent remember any part of her past life, but she finds that dealing with humiliation and and bullying comes surprisingly naturally to her. But oh boy does she feel desperate to leave at first. Because she constantly feels that there is something she has to do, she can sense upon her shoulders a mountain of endless responsibilities big and small that she just has to keep up with in the real world and she cant. It haunts her every single day.

She had lost her mind long before getting here.

[undertow-story]

PROLOGUE

SACHIEL

I’ve lived in this place for as long as I can remember now. Which is not very long in the scheme of things. I’ve been in the Undertow for at least a year and a half if I had to guess, but time doesn’t feel like it flows quite right down here.

My name is Sachiel… At least, this is the name I’ve given myself based off the ID I found in my pocket upon waking. I seem to have lost all memory of my former self, and given the information I have, I’m not from around here. If that wasn’t obvious enough, then I would have figured it out given the fact I am the only one of my kind.

I wish I knew what my kind was, admittedly. Claws. Fangs… Ears, cropped like that of the common mongrel leashed around by the thugs and bandits in this city. Tail and horns- piercing thin slitted eyes just like the creatures I hunt.

I must be a monster.

Not that it bothers me. It’s the only fathomable explanation I can assume anyway. I however, seem to be the only one capable of speech out of the creatures I’ve encountered so far. In this place, it’s kill or be killed obviously, as we’re overrun with horrific entities I cannot explain.

This world is best emphasized by the word ‘survive’.

Rather, uh… This sector is described that way. Look, I only know so much, but also it makes sense to me to write down the things I do know so far- in case my brain gets smacked around enough again to lose all the knowledge I’ve got.

The area I reside is called The Undertow, or just Undertow depending on who you talk to. We are the filth. Cast out from the glistening lights of the city above- we’re forced to live in the waste and squalor of the wealthy fucks put themselves above us. Our home is lit by neon, and is dark around every corner. Disease, Crime, Violence… it’s all rampant here. I have not yet seen the sun for more than 2 hours at a time. Which is unfortunate because the creatures residing here love the darkness. I feel pity for the people of this place. So many just trying to live their lives, get by…

Banished to this horrible place just because they’re not good enough by the standards of those above.

I don’t know the name of the place above us.

I’m not meant to. None of us are.

I saw it once from the outskirts when I left on a hit. The upper lands glow so blindingly bright, and it’s much smaller in comparison to the dredges below it. I personally don’t understand how they can live, I’d go blind. Y'know, how the pompous types are. They don’t care about us. The only time they need us is when they want someone dead…

Speaking of, that seems to be the case.

On a board bolted to a wall in the middle of a bustling market, Sachiel looks up from his book, closing it and putting it away as he takes a paper off the board, holding it in his rough hand. The paper reads: “Wanted: Hunter for removal of Important Persons, please send applications to xxxxx_xxx-x we await your chance to take on this ‘Golden Opportunity’.”

What specific wording.

“Reward: 10,000,000c”

Whoo, this guy must have really fucked up for them to ask a price like that.

Here, if you’ve got the skill then people will let you take on jobs for them… they generally involve killing. Usually it’s for monsters that rampage and cause destruction in specific sectors that threaten the foundations that hold the upper city aloft. Sometimes you get hits for persons- and other times you get hits for assholes like this. The ones up above.

I registered to be a Hunter some time back… maybe after a month of eating rats on the street. I decided I would rather at least be able to afford a beer here and there- maybe actual food instead of just whatever I could scrounge up. I don’t care to take on hits against persons- they don’t interest me… Humans aren’t fun to hunt. However, this is an awfully good deal. I could actually get an apartment instead of sleeping in whatever nearby dumpster I can find…

Never hurts to try I suppose.

His ears bent back, he headed off deeper into the city, clearly somewhere in mind.

Another day in paradise.

Tch-I gotta stop saying that it’s becoming a habit.

Next

[beamzar]

22nd November 2023

Open Entry: 19:26

Today was a good day.

Woke up very groggy, my voice was even huskier than the day before. What fixed it was a very VERY hot shower in the morning. I like Wednesdays because usually i dont have to rush to get things done, although this will end soon when i actually start attending my maths class. I wasnt able to prepare breakfast or lunch though, so i had to pass by a corner shop and buy 2 croissants and a strawberry yazoo (2 because the minimum card payment was 3£) (total scam but i gobbled those up anyway, so nothing was wasted in the end anyway).

School was nice, I didnt sneeze that much or anything. I honestly expected it to be way worse because of the large break and barely being able to survive cause of this virus. The only thing that really bugged me was my vision going blurry, and my eyes burning and swelling up. I was dizzy and practically blind the whole day, even started walking on the road (didnt die thanks to my friends lol).

I was alot more talkative and playful too i think. I think my friends are getting very comfortable around me, which is the best feeling ever. I value all of them a ton, so being nice to be around to them means the world to me. We had a nice walk, some nice chats. Film was suprisingly decent too. My eyes were burning up tho and i honestly felt like that clip of Dream, where he kept putting his head in his forearm. Damn Sarah for not warning us about the lights. It was comfy and warm in the class though, which is nice seeing as the outside completely contrasted it.

After the lesson i spent some time with my friends. Again, very fun. I love being around them.

The walk home honestly was alright. It was dark and sketchy as always, i kept getting weird looks from some creepy men. Might have been because i was lip syncing and drumming to Type O negative tho lol. I like listening to them when i have to walk alone in the dark, or metal in general. It makes me feel less scared. I think my favourite bit of that was the part by the park. The hill woth the forest behind it looks like something out of a fever dream. Very creepy, but in a good way sorta.

Got home got dressed, usual stuff. Mh dad called me, as he promised he would yesterday. I had a very nice talk with him, lasted about 1 hour. I love him alot, he kept telling me jokes and preaching life lessons. I ended up showing him one of my recent artworks, which he LOVED. I was so happy he did, he seemed very proud. What did make me sad is him not believing me when i said he was the best dad id ever ask for. Really got to me, because hes been his best for me, hes been the best to me, and in all honesty i wouldnt replace him with anyone else if given the chance to. Hes great, and has shown me a ton.

Close Entry: 19:45

Heres todays song:

[saiacross]

Bonds Unveiled

Supernatural FanFic : 2,081 Words : Series: Reader-Insert

Chapter 17.5 Club Confession's

This Work is part of an overarching story that can be read as a one-shot with little overlapping information from other chapters. **Season 9/10 Sam & Dean**

⬅ Chapter 17 Spell Gone Wrong Chapter 18 Captured, Tortured, and Sealed ➡ Master List

Chapter 17.5 Club Confessions After undoing the 'revenge' spell over a small town that had men a little too in tune with their emotions and the women experiencing random fits of rage and violence; Sam, Dean, and Y/N were invited to the opening night of the town's new club as a thank you. Y/N doesn't plan on wasting this rare opportunity for some fun, which in turn causes confessions among the brothers. 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜 Main Story: Y/N is no ordinary Huntress and when she runs into the Winchesters her life takes a turn. As time unfolds, they get to know each other, rely on one another, and demonstrate they care for one another in their own ways. Y/N's life begins to unravel into her history, present, and what lies ahead. She faces resurfacing fears she believed she'd escaped long ago, aided by the Winchester brothers. Their journey together is one of confronting old horrors and finding newfound strength. 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

The trio had gladly accepted Alley's generous offer of tickets to the opening night of the local club. It was an irresistible chance to let loose and enjoy live music, not to mention the allure of free food and drinks. The promise of relaxation hung in the air, a reprieve from the constant supernatural battles they were accustomed to. But before the evening's festivities, they knew they needed some rest.

As the day wore on, Sam, Dean, and Y/N returned to their respective rooms, the anticipation of the evening ahead mingling with the exhaustion that often followed their encounters. It was Y/N who particularly needed the rest, her magical efforts to release the curse and restore the town and Dean took a toll on her.

Alley had informed them that the club called for a more formal dress code, a detail that was met with a mixture of distaste and yet readiness, especially given that their FBI suits would serve the purpose—though Dean's would refuse to wear his tie unless necessary.

The morning transitioned into the day, and Y/N, drained by the magical exertion, slept the majority of it away. It was only when Sam knocked on her door that any communication was established between the trio. Y/N's response, however, was more of a spirited assertion than a conversation, her voice echoing from behind her motel room door. "Go ahead, and I will meet you there!"

Sam and Dean exchanged amused glances as they nodded, their amusement evident as they set off for the club. The anticipation of the evening was palpable. knowing that even amidst the supernatural chaos, there were moments of respite and joy to be embraced.

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

Sam and Dean stood in line, awaiting their turn to enter. The anticipation in the air was tangible, a mixture of excitement and curiosity as they looked forward to a night of relaxation and enjoyment.

However, the moment caught an unexpected twist when the bouncer, in the process of checking IDs, spotted Sam and Dean. With a quick gesture, he pulled them from the line and walked them directly to the entrance. He explained that arrangements had been made for their immediate entry. Dean's characteristic grin was impossible to miss, his satisfaction evident as he soaked up the special treatment that he felt was long overdue.

Sam followed with a smile, maintaining his own sense of humility as he watched Dean's confident nod to those still waiting in line; a nod to his own inner rock star, his mannerisms portraying an air of being accustomed to such perks.

As they crossed the threshold into the club, their entry was met with a warm welcome. Alley's mother, Carrie, stood before them with a smile that radiated genuine happiness. She greeted them with open arms, pulling them into an affectionate hug that spoke of a connection beyond the surface. Her words carried a sense of sincerity as she expressed her joy at their presence. "I'm so glad you decided to come."

Sam's smile mirrored her sentiment as he responded. "We're happy to be here. Y/N will be around soon; she's just running a bit late."

Carrie's nod was understanding, her demeanor gracious and welcoming. "Yeah, Alley mentioned something about her coming with you, I guess she really meant Y/N."

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

With Carrie's departure to mingle with others, Sam and Dean's attention shifted towards the bar. They ordered drinks, then found their way to a high-top table, their eyes trained on the crowd as they habitually observed their surroundings. The brothers stood in their suits, jackets unbuttoned and open, ties absent, collar buttons undone—a relaxed contrast to their usual state. Their presence, however, didn't go unnoticed among the patrons.

Whispers and smiles rippled through the crowd as they caught sight of Sam and Dean, the recognition of the good-looking pair of guys sparking conversations. Sam rolled his eyes accustomed to his brother's charisma drawing people in. He watched with a mix of amusement and exasperation as Dean exchanged glances with a couple of girls who had flashed him smiles as they walked by.

Dean's comment punctuated the moment, his voice lighthearted as he addressed his younger brother. "Well, Sammy, seems like this place is starting to look a lot better."

Sam's scoff was laden with a playful jab, his memory casting back to the state Dean had been in not too long ago. "Yeah, sure it is."

However, their banter was swiftly interrupted by a call of their names. Turning around, they met the sight of Y/N and Alley making their way towards them. It was a moment of significance, as it marked the first time Sam and Dean had seen Y/N dressed in anything other than her usual attire—jeans, boots, and a t-shirt. And what a sight it was.

Y/N's hair cascaded in soft curls around her shoulders, her makeup artfully applied to accentuate her long lashes and calming blue eyes. Her off-the-shoulder black top exuded a sense of elegance, paired with a tan and brown pleated plaid skirt that fell to mid-thigh. Black thigh-high boots completed the ensemble, adding a touch of edginess to her overall look. But it was her smile that caught them off guard—a smile they had seen several times but in this moment they would have sworn they never had.

“Wow.” The word slipped from Dean’s lips before he even realized it.

Sam inhaled sharply and swallowed hard as he exhausted, trying to compose himself.

As she approached, Y/N's words flowed in an apology. "Sorry for taking so long. I accidentally slept through my alarm, and Alley stopped by and woke me just before you knocked.”

The words reached Sam and Dean's ears, but their responses were lost in the backdrop of their stunned reactions. Both brothers were momentarily captivated by Y/N's transformation, her beauty leaving them momentarily speechless. The scene painted a vivid tableau—the contrast between the siblings' surprise and Y/N's radiant presence—a moment frozen in time amidst the music, the laughter, and the shared connections of the evening.

The moment hung in an awkward silence as Sam struggled to find his words, stumbling over his response. "Um, yeah, no... no problem. You, uh, you look amazing." His gesture, a wave of his hand up and down, encompassed Y/N's appearance, his hand then retreating to his pocket.

Y/N's smile radiated a blend of gratitude and a touch of self-consciousness as she responded. "Thanks. I don't get this chance too often and didn't have many options, so... yeah." Her nod added a note of affirmation to her words as her gaze turned to Dean, who had yet to utter a single word.

“Dean, you good?” Y/N's question seemed to break the spell Dean was under, pulling him back to the present moment. He shook his head slightly, as if clearing his thoughts, and managed to muster a response. "Yeah, I'm good."

However, their interaction was cut short by a voice that filled the club's speaker system. It resonated through the space, capturing the attention of the patrons and shifting the focus of the scene. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for joining us this evening for our grand opening!"

Applause rippled through the audience, the excitement palpable as they acknowledged the significance of the event. The speaker's voice continued in an earnest tone underscoring their words. "It means so much to us, especially after everything we have all been through recently."

A pause hung in the air, the anticipation building, only to be met with an unexpected twist. "However, it seems the drummer of tonight's band is unable to perform. So, we ask for your patience while we try to figure this out. Thank you."

The announcement brought an unexpected halt to the proceedings, a sudden shift that disrupted the atmosphere of excitement and anticipation. The crowd's reaction was a mix of understanding and disappointment, their shared experience bridging the gap between the performers and the audience.

Sam's brow furrowed as he pondered the unexpected turn of events announced by the speaker. "Huh, wonder what happened."

Dean's response was characteristically nonchalant, capturing his carefree attitude. "As long as the drinks are good." He raised his beer for emphasis before taking a swig.

Meanwhile, Y/N appeared lost in her thoughts, her attention focused on the stage where the band members were in discussion. Breaking from her reverie, she spoke up. "Umm, you know what? I'll be right back in a moment."

Her words were accompanied by a gentle smile, and she reached out to touch Sam's arm, her fingers sliding down to his wrist as she walked away. Sam nodded in acknowledgment, his gaze following her as she walked away until he saw Dean who was watching Y/N walk away.

“Dude!” Sam looked at Dean with disapproval. Dean quickly looked to Sam, as though he hadn't been caught. A knowing stare from Sam prompted Dean to offer a half-hearted defense. "Oh, come on, you were doing it too."

Before Sam could retort, the distinctive opening drum beats of AC/DC's TNT filled the air, instantly redirecting their attention to the stage. Mid-turn, Dean's curiosity prompted him to ask, "AC/DC?" Their gaze fixed on the stage, where their surprise escalated.

There, behind the drum set, sat Y/N, adjusting her earpiece and the microphone in front of her while engaged in conversation with the lead singer. The shock and disbelief on both Sam's and Dean's faces were unmistakable. Their expectations were shattered as the owner of the club took to the speakers again.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen," the owner's voice boomed, "it looks like the band has a stand-in to keep you entertained until we can get our other arrangement set. So, without further ado, please put your hands together for our town's own Shadow Sisters!"

“Did you know she could play the drums?” Sam’s questioned without taking his eyes off the stage.

“Not a clue.” was Dean’s simple reply.

The owner's announcement marked the beginning of a new chapter in the evening's events. As the band took their positions, the lead singer raised her hand, counting down from three with her fingers. On the count of one, she pointed to the crowd with a spirited declaration. "Let's hit it!"

Instantly, the melodic chords of Kansas' "Carry On Wayward Son" filled the air. The transition from confusion to surprise to sheer delight was palpable, a whirlwind of emotions that swept through the crowd. Sam and Dean, eyes wide, shared a moment of mutual astonishment as the scene unfolded before them.

Sam and Dean's initial shock swiftly transformed into amazement as they watched Y/N take command of the drums, showcasing an unexpected and impressive skill. It was as if she were in her element, and her enjoyment radiated through her performance. Sam's reserved demeanor cracked into the most genuine and radiant smile he had displayed in a while. Meanwhile, Dean, usually the embodiment of swagger, found himself nodding along to the rhythm with a mixture of pride and disbelief.

As Y/N played, her gaze briefly shifted to where she had last seen Sam and Dean. A connection passed between them—an unspoken understanding that transcended words. Seeing their expressions of awe, she couldn't help but smile and chuckle softly, her heart warming at their reactions.

The culmination of the song triggered a resounding wave of applause, cheers, and whistles from the audience. Amidst the cacophony of excitement, Y/N's ears tuned into the distinct calls of Sam and Dean, their voices like familiar beacons in the crowd. They had been through so much together, and their companionship shone brightly in that moment.

Sam and Dean stood there, caught in the exhilarating moment, as the lead singer turned to engage Y/N in conversation. In the midst of the jubilant atmosphere, both brothers experienced an intense surge of emotion that couldn't be contained. It was a wave of euphoria, an acknowledgment of the deep feelings they held for Y/N.

“I have feelings for her,” Sam spoke at the same time that Dean had.

“I think I like her.” Dean’s voice overlapped with Sam’s at the same moment.

Glancing at each other, a silent understanding passed between them. However, just as their eyes met in mutual agreement, the band's rhythm kicked in once again. This time, the opening chords of Joan Jett & the Blackhearts' "I Hate Myself for Loving You" filled the air. The electrifying music seemed to match the charged atmosphere of the moment, a symphony of emotions that intertwined with the melody.

End Chapter 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜 This is the Female Reader-Insert Version of my Story, please consider taking a look at the Original with my OFC Saia.

Please comment & 💜

[malevolententity]

thinking about here lies the abyss. thinking about how the option of leaving hawke or a warden was wasted. stroud's only emotional connection to the player relies on the chance and memory that you brought carver or bethany into the deeproads with anders, so he could say he knows where the wardens might be so that stroud can show up and conscript ur baby sibling. he is so easy to leave in the fade because hes not My Character. loghain is super easy because hes an asshole and usually i let alistair get his revenge in dao. alistair is the hardest choice in the three presented because while hes not Your Character. he is a party member he could have been your romance and you dont wanna kill ur wardens husband. but hawke is still Your Character.

heres my proposals on how to make that choice actually hard, almost a decade later! (side note: has it really been almost a decade since this game came out?)

if you made beth or carver a warden have the choice be hawke or their sibling! have the creeping horror of a family reunion slowly turn into "oh god whos going to be the final hawke sibling alive" because both of them would fight over who gets to stay in the fade because they cant let the other die even if theyre enemies. hawke can not loose yet another family member when the choice is in the palm of the hand to definitively save them. and beth or carver would feel both a warden need to stay and also would not let hawke make another sacrifice the twins know that hawke has given enough.

i know canon wise HOF has disappeared and thats why theyre not the inquisitor. so having them show up for this would be weird but they coulda just not made that a plot point and have HOF show up and then you have to pick between your two player characters. and then you have to deal with the dilemma of whoever you leave their partner is going to be so fucking angry. and picking between two of ur Played Guys is going to be so much harder! esp with dao and the background and romance choices you made. you could have an ex crow mad at you, you could have one of your advisors pissed at you and That being a crucial event to harden leliana, you could depending on even witch hunt dlc choices have morrigan mad at you, while she lives in your castle, and youve just killed her husband and the father of her child that you have met and was actively raising his son. you could have the king of fereldan mad at you for killing his queen/consort. which is probs Why the HOF isnt an option if you kept them alive because it would get messy with how many dao companions are involved in dai to a degree.

THEY COULDA MADE ANY OF THE AWAKENING COMPANIONS THE OPTION TO YEET. granted that puts them in the same space as alistair of Yeah id feel bad but like. its not my warden its my wardens friends theyre easier to leave than hawke. BUT IT COULD GET SPICY IF ANDERS IS ALIVE. AND THE CHOICE IS LEAVE ANDERS OR HAWKE!!! esp if you romanced him does hawke loose everyone in their life or does anders loose everyone in his life. OR LIKE say its nathaniel that really only hurts if you played cousland at any point because nates a shit but also a childhood friend. most people wouldnt care about oghren and hed be same boat as loghain. sigrun and velanna would hurt for people who got personally invested in them since theres so character background tie ins from memory. but like any of them could be options to hurt around the alistair level of choice.

there are so so many other good npc and companion choices from games to make here lies the abyss a hard choice and to make it hurt no matter who you leave behind. but no the fucking options are :checks notes: loghain an ex military general who staged a coup and had an active hand in slavery. stroud a warden npc you met twice if you even remember him at all. or alistair your companion who most people made king so he never shows up as an option here.

[elder-sister]

My mind screamed

"but now who's gonna dance with me PLEASE STAAAAAAAAYYYY AND IM NEVER GONNA DANCE AGAIN GUILTY FEET HAVE GOT NO RHYTHM THOUGH ITS EASY TO PRETEND I KNOW YOURE NOT A FOOOL I SHOULDA KNOWN BETTER THAN TO CHEAT A FRIEND AND WASTE A CHANCE THAT ID BEEN GIVEN"

and yeah that was amazing.

Thank you op.

I care.

:)

careless whisper fucks so insanely hard and i will never forgive the internet for making it a "meme song." tonight the music seems so loud i wish that we could lose this crowd maybe its better this way we'd hurt each other with the things we want to say. if you even care.