#the hurricane wars spoilers

[theghostwrites]

THE LINE

[palominodragon]

Just laughed until I cried over Talasyn's enemies-to-lovers guilt.

She would have to return to Eskaya burdened by the knowledge that she'd had the Night Emperor's tongue in her mouth. The next time she faced the Sardovian remnant, it would be with the memory of the Night Emperor's hand on her ass. And she'd liked it.

That wording, Thea! You nailed it.

[uu-tella]

From chapter 225, full panel under the cut

[reyturnofbensolo]

“No endeavor is fruitless if you learn something about yourself along the way.” -Landscape with a Blur of Conquerors by Thea Guanzon

OK this is gonna be my fancast for Alaric and Talasyn in THW!! ETL!!

[mya-valentine]

Can I request a fic for Kinich x fem reader please? during the archons quest IV (spoiler‼️ for people who didnt do the archons quest) reader almost died in one of the bases but traveler and Paimon (doesn't matter who tbh I love the twins) was able to save them just in time and Kinich hugged her not letting her go until he knew she was real and safe in his arms

Not a huge fan of angst but I'm okay with angst with comfort (happy ending)

From the Edge of Darkness

The Abyss Order had been relentless in its attack on Natlan, leaving a trail of devastation in its wake. With the nation in ruins, every base became a battlefield, and the resistance fighters were pushed to their breaking point. The Traveler and Paimon, desperate to help in whatever way they could, had been moving from one war-torn base to another, always hoping to arrive in time to save someone—anyone—from the onslaught.

This upcoming base felt different, though. As they neared the next base, an eerie silence filled the air. No sounds of clashing weapons, no cries for help. Just silence.

Paimon’s voice quivered as she spoke, “Traveler… something feels wrong about this place.” The suffocating tension in the air made it hard to breathe.

When they finally reached the base, the scene that greeted them was nothing short of horrifying. Destruction had torn through the camp like a hurricane. Blood stained the ground, mingling with the ashes of burned tents and scattered debris. Bodies lay strewn across the battlefield, broken and still. Each life extinguished in a brutal fight to protect their homeland.

The Traveler moved quickly, scanning the area, their heart sinking with each step. Please, let there be someone left alive. They silently begged the universe, their steps quickening with each heartbeat.

And then they saw you.

Amidst the carnage, there you were—barely alive. Your body was crumpled against the remains of a wall, blood trickling from a wound on your side. Your skin was pale, your breath shallow. You were hanging on, but only just.

“There!” the Traveler gasped, rushing toward you. They dropped to their knees by your side, frantically checking your pulse, their hand trembling as they felt the faint, uneven beat beneath your skin. “She’s alive, but not for long!”

Paimon’s eyes widened in horror. “We need to get her out of here! Now!”

The Traveler didn’t hesitate. With great care, they lifted your fragile, unconscious body into their arms. They could feel how weak you were, how close you were to slipping away. Every second counted. “We’re taking her to the stadium!” the Traveler barked. “That’s where the medics are.”

Paimon nodded furiously, her tiny body flying ahead, guiding the way. “Hurry! We don’t have much time!”

The journey back to the stadium felt excruciatingly long, each second a battle against time. But the thought of losing you—of arriving too late—drove them forward.

The stadium came into view, its towering walls offering a brief sense of relief. Inside, it was the last haven for those who had survived the Abyss Order’s attacks. It was bustling with medics, warriors, and refugees, each one desperate to protect what little was left of their world.

The Traveler barely made it through the gates before shouting for help. “Medic! We need a medic!”

The closest group of medics rushed over, their eyes widening when they saw your condition. Without wasting a moment, they took you from the Traveler’s arms and laid you on a stretcher.

The Traveler stood back, their chest heaving with exertion, watching helplessly as the medics tried to save you. Paimon hovered close by, her hands clenched tightly in front of her. “Traveler… do you think she’s going to make it?”

The Traveler swallowed hard, unable to answer. “I don’t know, Paimon… I don’t know.”

---

Not long after, the stadium doors burst open, and Kinich, the man you loved, stormed in. His usually calm and stoic demeanor had crumbled, replaced by pure, unfiltered panic. His eyes scanned the crowd, searching desperately for you, the woman who meant more to him than anything in the world.

When he finally spotted the Traveler, his heart lurched. He saw the exhaustion in their eyes, the grim set of their jaw. He knew something was wrong. “Where is she?” he demanded, his voice shaking.

The Traveler’s expression softened with sorrow as they pointed toward the medic tent. “She’s there. It’s… not good, Kinich. I’m sorry.”

Kinich’s breath caught in his throat as he turned toward the tent. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat filled with dread as he rushed toward you. When he reached your side, his worst fears were confirmed. You were pale and still, your chest barely rising with each shallow breath. Bandages covered the wound on your side, but you looked so fragile, so close to death.

“No…” The word came out as a broken whisper. He fell to his knees beside you, his hands trembling as they reached for yours. He grasped your hand in his, holding it tightly, as though if he just held on hard enough, he could pull you back from the brink.

Tears filled his eyes, blurring his vision as he bowed his head over your hand. “Please,” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “Please don’t leave me. I can’t—I can’t lose you.”

His body shook with the force of his grief, the tears falling freely now as he pressed your hand to his lips, praying for some miracle, some sign that you would wake up and tell him everything would be okay.

Hours passed, but Kinich never left your side. He couldn’t. The world outside the stadium continued to burn, but nothing mattered to him except you. He sat by your side, holding your hand, watching for any sign that you would wake. Every breath you took felt like a lifeline, fragile but present.

The medics came and went, their magic stabilizing your condition, but Kinich’s heart remained heavy with fear. He whispered to you the whole time, his words soft and broken. “I love you… please come back to me…”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you stirred.

Your eyes fluttered open, and the first thing you saw was Kinich’s tear-streaked face hovering above you, his hand tightly gripping yours. You blinked slowly, your body heavy with pain and exhaustion, but you were alive. You were still here.

“Kinich…” Your voice was a soft, rasping whisper, but it was enough to break through the haze of Kinich’s grief.

His eyes widened, a sob of relief escaping him as he surged forward, pulling you into his arms. His grip was tight, almost desperate, as though he feared that if he let go, you would disappear again. His body trembled with emotion as he held you, his face buried in your hair.

“You’re awake,” he breathed, his voice shaking with disbelief. “You’re really awake…”

You nodded weakly, your arms coming up to wrap around him, though the movement was slow and painful. “I’m okay,” you murmured, your voice soft but reassuring. “I’m going to be okay.”

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze filled with love and relief. “Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You smiled, though it was weak and tired. “I’ll try not to.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Kinich simply held you, his heart finally beginning to calm as he felt the steady rise and fall of your chest against his. You were safe. You were alive.

And as long as you had each other, nothing else mattered.

“I love you,” he whispered again, his voice softer this time, but no less sincere.

“I love you too,” you replied, your words filled with warmth and gratitude.

The world outside was still in chaos, but in this moment, as you lay in Kinich’s arms, you knew that everything would be okay. You had survived, and you had each other. And that was enough.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[bumblesimagines]

When Fire Meets Fate

Part 13

Request: Yes or No

Summary: With war comes the death of innocents, and Luke was merely the first of many. Upon learning of Prince Jaehaerys demise, (Y/N) and Rhaenyra are forced to confront the man behind it.

CW/TW: Typical GoT/HOTD warnings, spoilers for S2, mentions of the death of Jaehaerys,

Had to deal with a hurricane, power outages, the ongoing process of moving, no wifi, and a sore knee before I could finish this part😭 the universe really said hold your horses but you know what? i thank it for making me wait cause i just got the book from libby this morning

~~~

The waves crashed against the rocky cliffs, droplets of salty water rising and falling with each continuous crash that filled the air with the comforting smell of the ocean. He listened to it, the heartbeat of the ocean, and felt his beat along with the rhythm as he swirled his ring around his finger. His thoughts refused to stop, refused to ease into something comprehensible. The Realm had been at peace for many decades under the rule of the Old King and King Viserys, flourishing and blissful; now like his mind, it was broken. War... such a frightening word. The very thought of it made his insides twist and his throat tighten. 

"My Lord," (Y/N) tore his eyes away from the dark water and pushed himself away from the balcony to face the troubled Ser Erryk. "The Small Council has called an urgent meeting with news from King's Landing." 

A multitude of things raced through his mind as he strode through the halls of the Stone Drum, his unease and confusion heightening when he noticed the grim looks on a few of the lords' faces. Rhaenyra appeared as puzzled as him, her eyes flickering to him questioningly, but she found no answer in his features. She watched him take his seat beside Rhaenys before she turned to Maester Gerardys, giving him a small nod to speak his piece. 

"Tragic news from King's Landing, Your Grace, My Lord," Maester Gerardys began shakily, his lips forming a grim line. "There was a funeral procession this morrow for the son of Aegon and Helaena Targaryen who was slain in the middle of the night. It is yet unclear how the Keep itself was breached. The boy's head was severed from his body. Thousands witnessed the procession."

(Y/N) felt the world still for a moment. The crashing of the waves ceased and the crackling of the fire grew muffled as the information settled into his bones. He inhaled deeply through his nose and held it, his eyes bouncing around the designs carved into the table. Helaena... sweet little Helaena, the very definition of innocence and curiosity. He bit his inner cheek when Alicent slipped into his mind and a dull ache in his stomach awakened. 

Rhaenyra stared forward, completely aghast by the revelation, by the underlying tone and unspoken words reinforced by the suspicion and accusatory glances around the table. "And.. they are accusing me of having a hand in this?"

Maester Gerardys's brows pulled into a sympathetic furrow. "It appears so." He confirmed softly, and (Y/N) resisted the urge to slump back into his seat, his mind still working on who would even think of bringing such harm to gentle Helaena, much less to a boy as young as her son. "There have been messages sent to that effect throughout the Realm."

"We must send our own messages, denying this vile allegation," Rhaenyra ordered swiftly as she stepped out from behind her chair to stand before it, her fingertips pressing into the Painted Table. There was a flicker in her eyes, one filled with worry, likely for the lives of their own young children.

"I will do so at once, but I am not sure they will be received in good faith." 

"And we must double our guard, here and in Driftmark," Rhaenyra added, smoothing out the back of her dress as she lowered herself down into her seat, prompting the rest of the lords to follow suit. She swallowed and lifted her head, sparing her husband a glance before observing her lords. "There will be swift retribution in one form or another-"

"I have seen to it, Your Grace." Lord Celtigar interrupted, drawing (Y/N)'s gaze away from his wife and onto the older man with a stern glare. The older man pointedly avoided looking in his direction as Jace strode into the room and stood at the end of the table, sharing an encouraging glance with Lord Celtigar.

"Let me fly out on Vermax." Jace offered and both of his parents snapped their heads toward him. Lucerys faint laughter echoed in his father's ears, the image of his eyes that so often reminded (Y/N) of Gwayne's flashed in his mind. The shaky breath Rhaenyra released was subtle but he picked it up nonetheless. "Rhaenys is needed in the Gullet and I can watch for moves from King's Landing."

The answer lacked hesitation: "No."

Lord Celtigar inhaled deeply and turned back the Rhaenyra, clearing his throat lightly to garner her attention once more. "It must be said that the damage to our position is immeasurable, at a time when we most need loyalty to our cause." He spoke carefully, clasping his hands behind his back with the accusation in his tone evident. 

"But it is a lie." Rhaenyra scoffed, her eyes wide as she looked amongst her council when none of the lords bothered to raise their disagreement of Lord Celtigar. "Having lost my own son, that I would inflict such a thing on Helaena, of all people. An innocent."

A moment of solemn silence passed over the room and (Y/N) pushed himself back further into his seat with a quiet sigh. His thumb pressed and rubbed against the ring of his index finger, tilting his head to look toward Jace once more only to notice the withering stare Rhaenys sent across the table toward the Targaryen sat opposite of him. He turned to the prince and felt his heart skip a beat at the look in Daemon's eyes. 

Seven fucking Hells.

Ser Alfred cleared his throat next, his eyes lingering on Lord Celtigar before sliding over to Rhaenyra. "The death of Prince Lucerys Velaryon was a shock and an insult. A mother so aggrieved might, naturally, seek relief in retribution-"

"Are you suggesting, Ser Alfred-" Rhaenyra shot up from her seat, the lilac of her eyes bright with offense and voice heavy with anger. "-that my grief drove me to order the decapitation of a child?" 

"I merely thought, perhaps, an action taken in haste-"

"Mind yourself," Rhaenys steely voice cut through the air for once, and the tone of the older princess proved enough to silence the men at the table.

With a quiet scoff and light shake of her head, Rhaenyra sat back down in her seat as (Y/N) rose from his. He met her eyes and she managed a smile, one that he could not return when he flickered his eyes between her and Daemon. Her brows furrowed and she turned to look at her uncle, studying his features until slowly but surely, the horror and realization dawned on her. Her brows softened then and her eyes widened, lips parting with a quiet inhale. 

"Let it be known that Her Grace nor I ordered the sickening murder of a child." (Y/N) began icily, his hands folding before him and vexed stare lingering on Daemon before it moved onto Ser Alfred and then Lord Celtigar. "Helaena is a gentle soul and she has never spoken ill of any of us despite whatever poison she has been fed throughout the years. To imply that Her Grace would purposefully bring harm upon her sister and nephew, that she would stoop as low as Aemond did, is a great offense and insult. It certainly says a lot of the men you are as well, to not only believe such a thing but to regardless defend it. I should not be standing here like a disappointed parent lecturing their children when many of you are men old enough to be my father. We expect better from the men of this council." 

When Rhaenyra rose from her seat once more, her steely gaze still locked on Daemon, the rest of the council did as well. (Y/N) offered her his arm and she took it, a quiet and tired sigh escaping her. "If that is all the news to be discussed this afternoon then this meeting is over. Thank you, Maester Gerardys, for informing us as soon as possible." The lords dipped their heads and bowed in return, waiting for the couple to leave before they returned to their previous tasks. 

Rhaenyra and (Y/N) strolled to their bedchambers, only stopping to have a servant summon Daemon and locate Baela. He arrived moments later, his attention on the floor until he found a seat and slumped down in it as if it were all a mere inconvenience. (Y/N) sighed heavily and placed his arms atop the nearest chair, his teeth grinding slightly as irritation swirled in his stomach like a storm waiting to reach land.

"Tell me it is not true." Rhaenyra stared at her uncle as her calm demeanor chipped away when he simply poured himself a cup of wine and took a sip from it. "Did you truly send assassins to murder children in their beds?"

"I sent the queen's vengeance for her son." He answered quietly, swirling the cup around as if it hadn't just admitted to being partial to the death of a child. (Y/N) rubbed his palm over his face in exasperation as Rhaenyra walked forward toward her uncle with purpose.

"What did you tell this vengeance? What did you say to him, Daemon, that a boy lies dead and I am accused of killing him?" Rhaenyra's hands slammed down against the table, her shoulders heaving and necklace jingling with her movements. (Y/N) studied her but remained silent. He'd be a fool to intervene between two dragons, even more so when they were Daemon and Rhaenyra Targaryen; perhaps the most stubborn and fiery of the family.

"Mysaria provided me with names and a subterfuge." Daemon started and raised the cup to his lips again, his adams apple bobbing with each swallow and lips growing tainted in a subtle red tint. (Y/N)'s memory flickered back to Ser Erryk and the stowaway, and his eyes fluttered shut. "I was clear in my instructions: Aemond, the brother of Aegon the Usurper. I cannot be responsible for a mista-"

"Cannot be responsible?!" Rhaenyra glowered, the disbelief and annoyance in her tone finally prompting Daemon to meet her eyes. She leaned back, wetting her lips and taking slow steps closer to the man before bracing her hand against the table once more and leaning toward him with barely contained anger. "If Aemond was not to be found, what were your instructions then?"

"They did not concern, in any way, that of a little child."

"You said that it was your aim to spill Hightower blood, and if not Aemond, then anyone would do."

"No."

"You have wounded me!" Rhaenyra exhaled weakly, leaning back with softened, near-watery eyes. "Weakened my claim to the throne, my ability to raise an army, my standing among my own council!"

"I said no." Daemon asserted more quietly, his own eyes softening ever so slightly at the emotion in her eyes before hardening again when she scoffed under her breath and leaned back. Rhaenyra stared at him, her fingers curling into fists before uncurling again, the loose strands of her hair swaying when she shook her head.

"I don't believe you." She told him, stalking away from him with a chest rapidly rising and falling. Rhaenyra's brows moved into a fixed furrow, her lips pulled down into a deep, disappointed frown. She returned to her husband's side, her lips parting to release the quickened breaths and eyes fluttering shut to calm herself. (Y/N)'s hand grazed hers and she took it, rubbing her thumb over his skin as if to soothe herself. 

With an inhale, she looked at Daemon. "And so we come to it, at long last." Her words came out quiet and hurt, the implication blatant enough for Daemon to lean back in his seat with narrowed eyes. "Cannot trust you, Daemon. I've never trusted you, wholly, much though I wished to, willed myself to. But now I have seen that your heart belongs only to you. And when I was a child, I took this as a challenge to prove myself worthy of being your equal. But I am older now. I have challenges enough." The more she spoke, the louder she got, the hold on (Y/N)'s hand growing tighter and tighter until she released him to begin pacing. 

"I have served you faithfully." Daemon managed out through gritted teeth, his fingers drumming along the armrest of his chair. 

"Have you?" Rhaenyra snapped. "Or have you used me as a tool with which to try and grasp at your stolen inheritance?"

Her words seemingly struck a nerve within the older prince; shooting up from his chair and smacking away his cup and pitcher. The items flew across the room, clattering against a candle holder and then onto the floor where wine and wax mixed. Rhaenyra flinched and staggered background, her movements combined with Daemon's outburst instinctively prompting (Y/N) into slotting himself between the two before the ill-tempered prince could reach his wife.

Daemon stopped before him, his nostrils flaring with each deep inhale he took and wild violet eyes piercing right into him. (Y/N)'s heart rammed in his ribcage and every nerve in his body demanded he get away from the prince but he remained rooted in his spot, shoulders squared and ears picking up each ragged breath from his wife behind him. His eyes flickered away when Daemon raised his hand and the prince hesitated, his features contorting as different emotions flickered through his eyes before he reached forward, his calloused hands pressing into (Y/N)'s cheeks and thumbs roughly rubbing over his cheekbones.

"It was I you entrusted with dealing with Vaemond Velaryon; it was I who drank and feasted with you all these years in Dragonstone; it was I who encouraged Rhaenyra time and time again to pursue her desire for you. I am not your enemy." Daemon spoke lowly and his head lifted to address Rhaenyra. "When Ser Erryk brought you the crown, did I not hand it to your husband so that he may place it upon your brow?"

"Yes," Rhaenyra breathed. "But before that, you sought to lead a council of war while I labored in my bedchamber without you once making an attempt to ensure my health and safety. And afterward, when I thought it meet to consider the terms our foes put before us-"

"A folly!" Daemon spat, releasing (Y/N) to whirl around and stalk away from them. Rhaenyra placed her hand on her husband's arm and swiftly checked his face for bruising before following after her uncle as he crossed the room. (Y/N) rubbed his tender flesh, feeling it tingle lightly under his fingertips. "A folly to give up my brother's throne to the traitorous lies of Otto Hightower!" 

"My throne, Daemon, mine!" Rhaenyra shouted and Daemon slowed down, his jaw visibly clenched as he turned to look at her. Rhaenyra's shoulders slumped, soft panting leaving her. "I think you used my words as an excuse to take your own revenge, to indulge the darkness you keep sheathed within you like a blade."

Daemon sneered, brushing past her to rest his arms across the chair behind her. "You think me some kind of monster-"

"I don't know what to think of you," Rhaenyra admitted. "I don't know what you are, or who it is you serve-"

Daemon laughed then in disbelief. "Am I not on my way, even now, to Harrenhal to raise an army in your name, Rhaenyra?! Yours!"

Rhaenyra shook her head again, more lightly, and tears glittered in her eyes, her body turning to take some steps away from him. Her shoulders trembled with an inhale and she faced him, the tears threatening to fall from her lashes. "Do you..." She began softly, quietly. (Y/N) pressed his lips together and retrieved the pitcher and cup Daemon knocked from the ground, setting them on the table and meeting the prince's eyes. "...accept me as your queen and ruler? Or do you cling, even now, to what you think you lost?" 

Daemon's gaze slowly drew away from the lord to look at her. "What I think I lost?" He echoed just as softly.

"You did not lose it." Rhaenyra chuckled despite her quivering lips, her dress kicking up the dust along the floor when it dragged as she walked toward them. "You gave it away because you thought ever and only of your own glory, and not of my father in his grief who needed you!"

"Your father was a coward who knew I was the stronger son, that I was the leader of men, and he was afraid to be seen in my shadow. Do you believe he made you heir because of your great wisdom? Because of your virtue?" Rhaenyra's lips rolled into her mouth and her arms raised, smacking against her sides and body twisting away from them again. "Or did he merely use you as a tool to put me in my place because he was afraid of me?"

"You were disinherited because you could not help yourself, Daemon." (Y/N) leaned forward slightly, bringing the attention of the two Targaryens onto him. Daemon's eyes narrowed again and he straightened up, his grip on the chair turning his knuckles pure white. "Your inability to keep your mouth shut disinherited you, Daemon. What do you think would have happened if King Viserys allowed you time and time again to get away with insulting the King of Westeros? A brotherly spat behind doors is one thing but to mock his dead child and by extension his dead wife before the smallfolk? They would think him weak, Daemon. You gave him no choice and proceeded to prove it as the right decision by throwing a tantrum like a child!" 

"You-"

"And more so, it is not an achievement to believe your own kin was afraid of you. The downfall of any house, of any family, begins when kin turns against kin. It has been said time and time again, why do you think Rhaenyra desires peace? If dragons dance, dragons will fall, and with them their riders; who will that leave if not ashes and bones? Parentless children? The Realm ripped apart and struggling? By slaughtering a child, you are no better than Aemond."

Daemon stared at him unblinking. "It was a mistake." He hissed lowly. 

"A mistake is making the wrong move during training... spilling the blood of an innocent is a choice; one that I, and everyone else who has come to meet you, knows you capable of making. You... you relish in fear and bloodshed... and that is how you will die if you do not accept change within yourself. How can we keep you close when we cannot be sure what you will do next?" (Y/N) watched him, exhaustion clinging to his body and seeping into his voice. 

Daemon peeled himself away from the chair and stormed past Rhaenyra, slamming the door leading into their bedchambers shut. Rhaenyra staggered forward and slumped down in the chair, bracing her arms on the table and resting her head on her hands. She sniffled quietly and sighed shakily, her head lifting when (Y/N) moved closer and ran his fingertips through her hair. 

"Daemon is... complicated." (Y/N) reminded her softly, lowering himself down to sit beside her. "But he may yet prove himself in Harrenhal, Rhaenyra." 

"One can only dream of such a thing." Rhaenyra sighed, her hand finding his and bringing it to her lips so she could press a soft kiss to the back of his hand. Despite the conversation sucking much energy and emotion of out them, he gave her a gentle smile."But for our sake... I hope you are right."

The doors creaked when they opened and Baela strolled inside, clasping her hands before her and dipping her head. "You wish to see me, Your Grace, My Lord?" Baela questioned softly, stepping further into the room. The splatter of wine and a candle Daemon knocked over in his outburst drawing her attention to the floor momentarily. She grimaced. 

Rhaenyra rose, offering her an exhausted smile. "When morning comes, take Moondancer and keep a watch on King's Landing. I need to know which course they take next. We depend on you, Baela. Stay high and keep your distance." She ordered gently, her hand still clinging to (Y/N)'s. Baela straightened up at her words, a familiar twinkle passing over her eyes that brought a small smile to (Y/N)'s face. "We can afford no further mistakes."

"I will be vigilant." The young girl assured, glancing toward the floor again. Her lips formed a few words, seemingly attempting to find the right ones to say before she cleared her throat and tilted her head slightly. "My father?" She pushed gently, her brows knitting together slightly and a flicker of concern passing over her face.

Rhaenyra pressed her lips firmly together, her shoulders lowering with a heavy exhale. "He must follow his own path." She said simply, and Baela's face fell with a harsh swallow and nod. 

"Baela," (Y/N) called softly when she turned and began making her way toward the door again. She stopped and looked over her shoulder at him questioningly. "You remind me of your mother more and more with each passing day. She'd be proud of you." Baela inhaled sharply, her eyes and features softening at his words. She gave him a thankful smile and turned away to leave the room. 

Once the door closed again, (Y/N) leaned back in the chair and gazed at their hands, watching the glimmer of her rings in the sunlight pouring through the window. "The woman he spoke of... Mysaria, the White Worm, was a stowaway onboard one of our ships. Ser Erryk claimed she wished to speak with me when she was taken but I allowed Daemon to see to her. She may have information for us, about King's Landing or possibly Daemon. But we mustn't hold her prisoner without knowing her intentions and what she may desire, Nyra." 

"I see." Rhaenyra nodded, her eyes downcast and tired. She brought a hand to her stomach, massaging her palm into the clothed flesh that still ached from the painful labor. "Let us speak to her, then, as soon as possible." 

(Y/N) studied her, taking in the watery glaze in her eyes and the tightness of her furrow. A semblance of guilt, perhaps? He couldn't be too sure. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze to draw her attention toward him and tilted his head questioningly. His wife exhaled shakily and released his hand, her back turned away from him and palms running over the skirt of her red dress. 

"I... I cannot help but be... relieved." Rhaenyra admitted quietly. "If Aegon were to die, the Greens would have turned to his child, to the boy. They would have rallied behind him, raised him up against me. My hand would have been forced, eventually, (Y/N). Just as it is now being forced."

"You cannot allow anyone else to hear those words, Rhaenyra. You have spoken of peace time and time again-"

"Yes, yes, I know," She exhaled shakily, her fingertips pushing back a strand of hair. "I... I do not want to be named a kinslayer. I do not wish to follow in the footsteps of Maegor the Cruel. Tales say he was cursed by the gods for slaying his nephew and bled on the throne for all to see. I cannot risk it. No one will follow a kinslaying Targaryen again."

(Y/N) set his hand upon her back and drew her into his chest, hooking his chin over her shoulder and feeling her sink back into him. Rhaenyra's eyes fluttered shut, her head tilting to lean her head against his. "It is admirable to search for peace when many believe bloodshed will solve all problems. A good ruler seeks what is best for their people. The Greens are led by those chasing after their own desires." He pressed a gentle kiss to the side of her neck and leaned back. 

"Let us speak with this White Worm."

"You barely touched your supper, Rhaenyra," 

In all the haste and preparations, (Y/N) had nearly forgotten what the scent of an old book smelled like, eager to be read after many ages. The gallery itself was ancient and filled with books and scrolls primarily used in teachings by maesters and septas but now they found use in providing ancient advice to Rhaenyra. Her ancestors, she reminded him, were no strangers to war and infighting. She sought out their knowledge and strategies with no older relative apart from Rhaenys to provide it. 

"I was not hungry," Rhaenyra responded, clutching a book to her chest and approaching the table covered in scrolls and candles. She set it down and flipped it open, sorting through the pages written in Valyrian and running her fingertips over the illustrations of ancestors long dead. She pursed her lips when he stuck a plate of sweets in her face, blocking her vision with sights of honey-covered biscuits. He lifted his brows and she rolled her eyes, lips threatening to tug up into a smile. Plucking one sweet from the plate, she stuffed it in her mouth and pushed aside the plate to resume her reading. 

 The clanking of metal brought their attention to the entryway where Ser Steffon entered with a woman following. He dipped his head in greeting before motioning to the woman. "The Lady Mysaria, Your Grace, My Lord." (Y/N) had expected an older woman deep into her later years but Mysaria seemed youthful in appearance. She was skinny, her cheekbones prominent against her tan skin, and her long dark hair was messy and falling over her shoulders. A former lover of Daemon, no doubt, given her history in Flea Bottom.

"Thank you, Ser Steffon." (Y/N) dismissed the knight and leaned back against the table, folding his arms over his stomach as he took in the White Worm. She shifted from foot to foot, uncertainty in her posture, even when she bowed her head. She hardly seemed like much of a threat, though most succumbed to nerves when presented to a Targaryen, he supposed.

Taking a seat at the table, Rhaenyra rested her arms upon the table, her fingers lacing together as she raked her eyes over the woman. "You're aware of yesterday's events in King's Landing? Tell me what part you played in their unfolding."

Mysaria glanced between the two of them, her brows slowly furrowing. "I had nothing to do with it." She answered quietly, voice heavy with an accent known to those with YiTish heritage.

At her response, Rhaenyra scoffed. "I know you are entwined with the usurpers, that you aided them in denying me my birthright."

"I took profits from an inevitability," Mysaria admitted with a slow nod, her dark eyes jumping away from them and cracked lips pursing. "I regret it now."

"I'm sure you do," Rhaenyra muttered, staring at her for a moment longer before rising from the chair. "Who are you?"

"A prisoner," Mysaria answered, eyes jumping toward (Y/N) when Rhaenyra drew closer with a widened plea. "I gave Daemon two names. That is the extent of it. And I did not wish to do that much. He said it was the price of my freedom." She seemed to grow unsettled when Rhaenyra remained silent and began circling her, visibly swallowing. "Does.. he say otherwise?"

"Daemon has left, Lady Mysaria. For Harrenhal, we presume, and we cannot say when he will be back." (Y/N) piped up, watching her face fall for the briefest of moments before she mustered a blank face, her jaw clenching. Rhaenyra stopped at her side and stared at her, eyes soaking up her features and brows slightly raising. 

"You remember me now," Mysaria mused with a hint of amusement, subtle enough to almost dismiss as nothing. Her head tilted toward the silver-haired queen, shoulders sagging slightly in some relief.

"He said he would marry you," Rhaenyra recalled with semi-widened eyes. "He said you carried his child-"

"Not everyone found the jest funny." Mysaria looked away with a scoff, her eyes rolling at the mention of Daemon's past doings. Ah, (Y/N) remembered then, the old memory of Rhaenyra having to fly out to fetch the egg Daemon had taken that'd once belonged to little Baelon. There'd been mentions of a woman but he hadn't been all too interested in the details. "And now it seems he's done it again, made a promise and then slipped away." 

"Is that why you desired to speak to me when you were found hidden within one of the ships?" (Y/N) piped up with a question, his eyes following Rhaenyra as she returned to his side and leaned against him. 

Mysaria nodded. "I heard of how the King Consort was... kinder than his kin. I had hoped you would listen to my pleas for freedom, my desire to escape from Flea Bottom and any chains Daemon Targaryen could wrap around me. Perhaps I should have refused him, lied, and pretended to know little, but you know how he can be. I can do nothing now to reverse what he has done... I can only ask you to honor his promise in his absence." Mysaria pleaded softly, her voice soaked in genuine exhaustion. 

"You trade in the secrets of the Red Keep. Your web runs unseen through King's Landing." Rhaenyra frowned. "It would not serve me to set you free. At best, I lose an asset to my cause. At worse, you betray me in some foul way." 

"I have no interest in betraying you, Your Grace. I was brought to Westeros with nothing. I toiled in service, I stole. I sold my own body for coin or bread. And I listened. I collected confidences. I made myself valuable to powerful men. Bit by bit, I made my living. A house, a household, a home... then, they set it all aflame." 

"Who did?" 

Her eyes flickered toward (Y/N). "The Hightowers, I assume. The Hand.. did not like it when I showed my teeth. But I thank him for it. For too long, I made it my aim to be of consequence. But now, I see that was the wish of a child. Daemon.. Otto Hightower. Makes no difference. They will never accept me." She gave a dry chuckle. "I may as well have remained a whore." 

The Hightowers had always been a noble family, but all noble families kept their statuses through secrets and skeletons hidden within the foundations of their homes. Quiet orders, spies, assassins, betrayals, bloodshed. He knew well the capabilities of nobles; he'd grown up listening to the drunken tales shared with laughter and smirks that most would consider to be horrid. His father ordering a flame be put out for threatening to grow brighter than him? He believed it, wholeheartedly. 

"You've given us much to think about, Lady Mysaria." (Y/N) told her. "You will hear of our decision soon."

[coffeeandbatboys]

congratulations!!! I'm so excited for you! <3 for your celebration, which is very much deserved might I add, can I get Right Here Waiting by Richard Marx with either Wolffe or Fives?

(@high-ct5555 is my star wars blog which is where I'll be reblogging from!)

again congrats!! 🥳

Thank you!!! ahhhhhh this one kicked me in the feels lol. I am really terribly sorry about how sad this one gets.

SPOILERS for TBB S3 Ep7!!!!!!

warnings: as mentioned, spoilers. Heavy angst, bittersweet/open ending. Unresolved relationship problems I guess you could say.

Right Here Waiting For You (Wolffe x Fiancée!Reader)

Part 2

He didn't come home. He promised that he'd come home and he hadn't.

Empire day would always be the day that Wolffe broke your heart.

You couldn't understand. He loved you, didn't he? Why would he ask you to marry him and then ditch you?

Maybe you were in denial of the fact that he could be dead.

No. He couldn't be. You needed him not to be.

So you continued with life. You helped Rex and Senator Chuchi and the other clones whenever you could, but so very often your mind would be on him.

And all of it lead to this moment. You wanted to cry out his name and run into his arms. But all the same it wasn't him. It wasn't the man who had gotten on his knees and asked you for your hand in marriage. Wolffe had a tenderness about him that not many people saw, save for you. But that tenderness had been torn away from him by the Empire.

"Mesh'la? Oh maker...you're alive!"

His voice, a mix of worry and relief, pulls you from the hurricane of your thoughts and memories. Tears gather in your eyes, because you want to believe, that just for a second, he's on your side.

But he's not. And though you still love him, you can't let the Empire get the better of you. So you step forward, dodging Rex's outstretched arm that's attempting to hold you back, until you're standing in front of the love of your life.

You pull his forehead down to meet yours and your noses bump against each other.

"I...I can't...we're on opposite sides of a new war, Wolffe. I'm sorry—." Tears are beginning to choke your words.

He squeezes his eyes shut. "I love you..."

"I know you do." Your voice cracks, betraying every wall you've built. "I want you to come and find me when you figure all of this out, hm? Come back to me."

Your heart yearns to say the words that you want to, but you're afraid they'll crush those walls for good. So you place a chaste, tearful kiss to his lips and back away towards the approaching ship.

As you walk up the ramp, you turn, and meet his mismatched gaze. Maker, he looks devastated, like he wants to reach out for you. But he doesn't.

Your voice is barely above a whisper, but he hears. He hears you say, "I love you too," As you turn away from him.

And once again you're apart from the love of your life, and those walls turn to dust.

But only for a little while.

[dancingtotuyo]

Scathed 9 (Javier Peña)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: anxiety, trauma, self worth, smoking, idiot(s) in love?, references to the drug war and colombia, Narcos season 3 spoilers

Notes: shoutout to my forever beta reader @janaispunk for looking this bad boy over!

Words: 2923

Series Master List | Author Master List

Journal Entry August 4, 1994  Dear Javi,

There are things I can’t bring myself to say. Even out on the back patio under the safety of the stars, I can’t tell you how scared I am that you won’t come back. It terrifies me. I did life without you for so long, but I’m not sure how to go back to life without you in it. We’re going to miss you alot. 

You won’t ever see this, but please come back. 

This time would be different. It ran on repeat in Javier’s head as he stared out the large windows that overlooked the buzzing city. New position, new apartment, new drug cartel. This time had to be different; he couldn’t get lost in it like last time. He took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself to start back at the DEA in the morning.

He unpacked his last suit case, having put it off since his arrival Friday night, the one that contained his few treasures in life. Framed photos from Chucho: the ranch, the two of them, an old family photo with his mom. A crayon drawing from Alejandra: both of them on horses. A bottle of whiskey from Jaime. A journal from Emily. 

“To write down all those thoughts racing through your mind. Even the ugly ones,” she had told him.

He set it on the end table next to the family photo with his mom. This time would be different. A silent oath. 

Alejandra’s drawing went on the fridge, the bottle of whisky on the counter, and the other pictures on the bookshelf. He looked around. It all felt scattered, empty, nothing like the apartment he’d made for himself last time. 

The familiar urge to go out, drink a couple of fingers of whiskey, and take a warm body home crept in. He fought against it. He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. This time had to be different. He’s promised himself over and over again it would be. He promised his dad he would call and write. He told Emily the same… 

Could he be here and not let it consume him? Could he be soaked in it all and still talk to her? Be worthy of her friendship? Being here, he felt the sins of his past marring his hands, so real and tangible. The same hands Emily allowed to touch her, what a privilege that was. The same hands she felt safe in. 

Javier thought about all the things he used to do when these thoughts raced through his mind when he couldn’t handle the big emotions: bars, cigarettes, sex. Too many times to count. His fingers itched at his side to grab his leather jacket and go. 

He paced the length of his apartment running a hand through his messy hair. Then it caught his eye: something sticking out of the journal. He pulled it out. 

A crisp envelope with his name written neatly in the middle: Emily’s handwriting. He popped it open. Polaroid pictures. He shook his head thinking about the grief he gave her for carrying that thing everywhere, but a smile appeared on his lips. There was one of him standing in the riding rink as Ale trotted around him on Hurricane. Another taken on the patio just last week: he and the kids eagerly chowing down on popsicles before they could melt in the Texas sun. He could see the red ring around Mateo’s mouth and drip down his chin as the sun beat him. One on the small dock next to the boys and his dad, lines cast into the pond Chucho stocked on the ranch. Javier smiled. Miguelito caught the biggest bass that day. Chucho had been dumbfounded. 

He sucked in as he flipped to the last one. It was the picture Alejandra had taken at the park just after he told her he was returning to Colombia. She leaned into him, an ease rarely seen in her. He’d caught a whiff of her shampoo, followed her lead, and leaned in. His thumb rubbed over the picture. He’d put an arm over her shoulder, her hand on his knee it all looked so… peaceful, domestic even, like they were- He cut the thought off, letting the picture fall to his coffee table. 

For so many reasons, that was a bad idea. 

He padded his pockets, finding the Nicorette gum. He popped the last piece into his mouth. He should grab more on his way to work in the morning. 

The Polaroid stared back at him. He looked happy, wrinkles cutting deep around his eyes. He picked the photo back up. He had been happy that day. Happier than he could remember even as he grappled with his decision to return to Colombia. Black ink on the back grabbed his attention. Don’t forget about us, okay? Her handwriting again. Her words to him that day.

He smiled to himself. That was his friend. He wasn’t sure he’d had one of those for a long time. Sure, he and Steve got along, but Steve was back in Miami. They still talked about once a month, but the bond he felt toward this woman was different. He and Steve had been forced together. They had to trust each other. Their lives had depended on it. Javier’s life sure didn’t depend on trusting Emily, but he did. She didn’t judge him. There were still things he hadn’t told her, and vice versa, but he knew when he was ready, he could. 

Javier slipped the photo of them into his wallet. This time was different.

He grabbed the phone off the end table and called his dad. The conversation was brief. The last thing he wanted to do was run up anyone’s phone bill, but he could tell his dad was happy to hear from him. He’d rarely received communications from Javier when he was in Colombia the first time. 

His fingers hovered over the buttons as he contemplated the second call. He told her he’d call. She told him to call. He pushed past the anxiety, pressing the buttons succinctly. He had it memorized. He checked his watch. It was bath night in the Kuykendall house. He knew that, but usually, the kids were bathed and in bed by now. 

Javier smiled as he thought about the few times he’d stumbled into bath night. It was true chaos and an event, but every single person wore larger-than-life grins. It was one of the times Javier felt like he was a part of something bigger than himself, like he’d been brought into something sacred. 

“Hello?” Anna answered. He could clearly hear the laughter of children and adults in the background. 

“Hey, it’s Javier… I can call back if this is-“

“Not at all.” He felt Anna’s welcoming presence through the phone. “Emily just came out of the bathroom.”

“Bath night.” Javier chuckled. 

“Exactly,” Anna called for her stepdaughter. Javier couldn’t hear their exchange over the shouts coming from the living room. 

“Javier?”

An ache in his chest eased. “Hey, sounds like a madhouse there.”

Emily laughed and the sounds muted as if she’d shut them behind a door. “Dad seems to have extra energy to chase the kids down tonight. How is it to be back?”

“Strange.” Javier glanced out the window. The city flowed like it always did, people rushing from place to place. “I’ve got a nicer apartment this time.”

“Of course you do, Mr. DEA attaché.”

Javier chuckled. “That sounds too fancy for me.”

“You said the same thing when you bought those suits and I gave you that snazzy new haircut.”

Javier grinned, resting against the countertop. His eyes fluttered shut as he remembered the feeling of her fingers through his hair. His shirt stretched and pulled across his chest as he inhaled. “Still sounds too fancy for me.”

“You ready for your first day?”

“No.”

Her laugh crackled through the line. “Then why’d you go back.”

At that moment, Javier wondered the same thing. He’d much rather be back in Laredo chasing the kids around the living room. “I’m askin myself that same thing.”

“Then do it. Tell the DEA where to shove it and come home.”

He smiled, low chuckle pulling from his chest. “You and I both know I have unfinished business here.”

“Yeah…” Silence sat between them. He could still hear the kids in the background. Javier wracked his brain for the right things to say, but everything he wanted to say he couldn’t. “Finish it quick, okay?”

“That’s the plan.”

“And stay safe. I can’t lose one of my only friends.”

“Oh?” Javier said. He felt an easiness take over him. “What about Lorraine? I thought she was your friend.”

“I said one of, and you’re my best friend anyway.” He can hear her eyes roll. “I mean it though, we all miss you already.”

“Tell the kids I said hi, okay? I’ll call another night when there’s time to talk to them.”

“Will do.”

“Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I should be saying that to you.”

“Em.”

“I will. I promise,” she said. “You too, Javi.”

Journal Entry August 8, 1994 Dear Javi,

I bet you spend all day behind a desk and hate every moment of it. It makes me laugh each time I think about it. It assures me that you’re okay too. Fancier job means a safer job, right?

As his first day back came to a close, Javier felt like he’d been there for a year. When he found the sticky note with the name of a nearby bar on his desk presumably left by Neil, he told himself one drink wouldn’t hurt. This time would be different. The mantra felt almost meaningless already. Similar things had been echoed in his meetings all day. This wouldn’t be like Escobar. There would be law and order and protocol. Politics were more important than ever. The world was watching now. 

One drink and then home. That was what he told himself as he sat down at the bar, ignoring his coworkers at the corner table. Pulling off his suit coat, he motioned the bartender ordering a whiskey. He turned down Neil’s invite to join the group. The guy was too eager to kiss his ass for Javier’s liking, put him up on a pedestal for taking down Escobar as if he hadn’t been suspended at the time. 

He swallowed the whiskey as soon as the glass was set in front of him. Then, he ordered another. Javier wasn’t sure how long he sat there, but it was too long. He rubbed his thumb over the crease of his forehead trying to talk himself out of the opportunity for stress relief sitting in front of him. The group in the corner had dwindled to two. A blonde he hadn’t met and the brunette he met at the beginning. Neil had introduced her. Karen? Katherine? Katie?… Katie sounded right. 

His staring wasn’t subtle, wasn’t flirtatious like he’d used to do it. If anything, it was creepy, staring at her while thoughts raced through his head. The mantra shortened until it was only a couple words as he tried to talk himself out of it. Different. Be different. It echoed over and over in his head. 

The bar was practically empty by now. She looked up and smiled at him like he wasn’t being a creep. He didn’t return it, still deep within his own mind. 

“Pretty girl.” Javier’s head snapped around to find fucking Bill Stechner of the CIA at his side. He slid onto the stool beside him. “Displays some shaky judgment in men though.” He looked at Javier.

Javier glanced away from Bill, looking over his shoulder as if to convey his annoyance with his whole body before turning back to him. He forced the briefest tip of his lips, the closest thing to pleasantries he could summon for the man. 

As most conversations with the CIA agent do, Javier was left with a sour taste in his mouth, the innate craving for a cigarette, and his failures thrown in his face. Then, Stechner laid it all out for him, the way things would go whether Javier liked it or not. Cali’s surrender. The facade of justice for the Cali Cartel. He didn’t like it, any of it, and he wasn’t sure why he came back in the first place, or why they even needed him. The DEA didn’t. He was just a pawn in Stechner’s game. 

“Cali will serve some time,” Bill said. He doesn’t look at Javier, keeping his eyes pinned to the bartop. “Technically speaking.”

“And that’s enough for you?” 

The look that crossed Stechner’s face is something akin to a blend of annoyance and patronizing as he met Javier’s eyes. “If there were any justice in this world, Javier, you’d be in jail.”

It was only half a second before Javier averted his eyes, the shame of what he did flooding him. He wasn’t the hero everyone acted like he was. Stechner knew that. Javier kept quiet. 

“I know your guys are running an operation on Cali tonight.” Bill stood, putting enough cash on the bar to cover his and Javier’s tabs. “I can tell you this, it’ll come up double zeros.” More silence. “These guys don’t make mistakes. You try and go after the Cali bosses, all you’ll get is more bodies.” 

Stechner finished off his drink, patted Javier’s shoulder, and walked out without another word, leaving Javier with a bigger stress headache than he came in with. Try as he might, Javier couldn’t push it out of his head. He needed something, a distraction. He wouldn’t survive without one. 

Javier finished off the whiskey in front of him. He rubbed his forehead, searching for any relief. Different. It seemed quieter now, further away like his resolve was slipping. He needed to be anywhere that wasn’t here, shut off his brain.

He stared straight ahead, eyes glazing over, shining in the dim bar light as he pinched his top lip between his thumb and forefinger. Different. It felt useless, like he was bound to fail. A whisper of an oath. Maybe there was no different for him.  

It was almost instinctual, the way he glanced over, eyes meeting hers. She offered him a soft small now sitting alone at the table, cigarette held between her middle and pointer finger, like she had been waiting for him.  

“This is Peña. Leave a message.” BEEP.

“Hi Mr. Javi! It’s me, Ale. I miss you already. You should call me soon.” 

“Alejandra, who are you on the phone with?”

“Mr. Javi’s voicemail.”

“Ale, it’s expensive to call Colombia. Hand me the phone.”

“Oops.” She giggled.

A long sigh crackled over the line followed by a pause. “Hey Jav… I guess I’ve paid for the next couple of minutes, I might as well use it. I suppose you’re already working late since it’s after eight. Don’t let them work you too hard, okay? And you should still return my call.” More dead air. “It feels silly to miss you as much as I do. I feel like I haven’t talked to you in days… Oh! I got into that class I was waitlisted for. Anne is willing to work with my school schedule so I still get my hours in at work.”

“Mommy!” A voice calls out in the background as a crashing sound follows it. 

“Shit” The machine clicked off. 

Javier woke up tangled in his navy sheets with the same stress headache and a greater hankering for a cigarette than he’d had in months. Katie slept soundly on her side next to him, back facing him. Her brown hair spread out over the pillow. She hadn’t tried to cuddle, and thank god she understood what last night had been. 

Without a second though, he reached for her purse, careful not to wake the naked woman next to him as he eased into a sitting position. Relief flooded him when his fingers glided over the pack of cigarettes and lighter. 

There was no hesitation as he put the cigarette to his lips and flicked the lighter to life. The nicotine flooded his body for the first time in months. Finally, he found some relief. 

Journal Entry  August 13th, 1994 Dear Javi,

I’m sure it’s nothing. I’m sure you’re okay. Dad said there were no reports of anything happening. You’re just busy, with your first week back and all… 

Alejandra asks every morning if you called her back. Mateo asks too. I think he’s hoping for stories of chasing down bad guys. Even Miguelito asked about you. 

We all miss you so much. 

Javier played the voicemail over and over, but he couldn’t bring himself to call back. He hadn’t lasted a day into the job without reverting to old habits. He’d fooled himself into thinking things could be different, into thinking if he did this the right way, if he brought down Cali the right way, he could be worthy of her one day. 

The whiskey burned on its way down. 

Journal Entry August 15th, 1994 Javier, 

I swear if you went and got yourself killed on your first week back, I’ll never forgive you. I won’t even say any nice words at your funeral. Imagine that, your best friend holding back all the nice things about you. The world can just remember you to be the asshole you showed them.

Seriously though, signs of life would be appreciated.

…………………………………………………………………..

Taglist: @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @burntheedges @southernbe @fanyyoouu @greengirlwurld

@mysterious-moonstruck-musings @weho2kcmo

[gojonegs]

Forbidden Hearts: A Tale of Love

Gojo x reader

tw: angst angst angst, but I promise this time it is with a happy ending! btw it a different!au so no spoilers! Enjoy!

wc: 1.8k

————————————————————————

In the vibrant heart of Tokyo, where the city's neon lights danced against the backdrop of towering skyscrapers, Gojo Satoru and Y/N found themselves ensnared in a love as whimsical as a spring breeze.

Their initial encounter was a serendipitous moment in a crowded café, where their eyes met over a spilled latte and a shared laugh. From that moment on, they were inseparable, their love blossoming like the cherry blossoms that adorned the streets of their beloved city.

But their happiness was short-lived, for they soon discovered that they hailed from feuding clans—the Gojo and L/N clans. Despite the odds stacked against them, they dared to defy tradition and pursue their love with unwavering determination.

Their clandestine meetings were like stolen moments of bliss in a world fraught with danger and uncertainty. They reveled in each other's company, their laughter mingling with the bustling sounds of the city as they carved out their own little corner of paradise.

But as whispers of their forbidden romance spread like wildfire through the streets of Tokyo, the tensions between their clans reached a boiling point. Their love, once as carefree as a summer's day, now faced the harsh reality of their warring families.

One stormy evening, amidst the chaos of crashing waves and howling winds, Y/N sought out Gojo in a secluded corner of the bustling city. Her eyes were filled with determination, but also with a deep sadness that seemed to weigh heavily upon her soul.

"Satoru," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "we need to talk."

Gojo turned to face her, his expression unreadable. "What is it, Y/N?" he asked, his tone gentle yet tinged with concern.

Y/N's fists clenched at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. "I'm getting married," she seethed, the words dripping with disdain.

A wave of disbelief crashed over Gojo, his eyes widening in shock. "Married?" he echoed, the word feeling like a dagger to his heart.

Y/N's laughter was bitter, the sound echoing like thunder in the stormy night. "Does it matter?" she snapped, her voice dripping with scorn. "Another pawn in the game of power and politics."

Gojo's jaw clenched in frustration, the anger simmering just beneath the surface. "And what about us, Y/N?" he demanded, his voice a fierce roar in the night. "What about our love?"

Y/N's eyes blazed with fury as she met his gaze, her voice a thunderous roar in the darkness. "Our love?" she spat, the words like lightning striking a tree. "What love, Satoru? All we have is a fleeting fantasy in the midst of a raging storm."

The air crackled with tension, the weight of their forbidden love pressing down upon them like a suffocating blanket. Gojo's anger boiled over, his voice a tempest of emotion. "I thought you were different, Y/N," he snarled, his words a lightning bolt in the darkness. "But it seems you're just like the rest of them—bound by duty and tradition, willing to sacrifice everything for the sake of your precious clan."

Y/N's breath came in ragged gasps as she fought to hold back her tears, her heart torn asunder by the storm of emotions raging within her. "You don't understand," she whispered, her voice barely a whisper in the howling wind. "I have no choice."

But Gojo's rage was unrelenting, his pain a hurricane tearing through his soul. "No choice?" he roared, his voice thundering in the night. "You always have a choice, Y/N. You chose this path, just like you chose to betray me."

And with those words, Gojo turned away from Y/N, his heart heavy with the weight of their shattered dreams. Y/N watched him go, her own heart breaking with each step he took, knowing that she had lost him forever.

As she stood alone in the heart of the city, surrounded by the echoes of their love and the distant hum of the urban landscape, Y/N realized that some loves were simply not meant to be. And as the echoes of their shattered dreams faded into the night, she knew that their love would forever remain a bittersweet memory, a haunting reminder of what could have been.

———

In a crowded ballroom, where the air was thick with the scent of perfume and the sound of elegant music filled the space, Gojo and Y/N's paths crossed once more. The atmosphere crackled with tension as they locked eyes across the room, surrounded by swirling dancers and sparkling chandeliers.

Their reunion was like a spark igniting a powder keg, setting off a chain reaction of emotions that neither could control. With a bitter laugh, Gojo approached Y/N, his eyes flashing with a dangerous fire.

"So, this is where you ended up," he sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Lost in a sea of opulence, pretending to be someone you're not."

Y/N's heart clenched at the venom in his words, the pain of their past rushing back with brutal force. "I had no choice," she spat back, her voice filled with defiance. "You think I wanted this? You think I wanted to be torn away from you?"

But Gojo's anger was unrelenting, his pain a blazing inferno that threatened to consume them both. "You made your choice, Y/N," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "And now you have to live with the consequences."

The tension between them crackled like electricity, their emotions raw and unbridled. Y/N's voice trembled as she struggled to hold back her tears. "I never wanted this," she whispered, her words a desperate plea for understanding.

But Gojo's eyes were cold and distant, his walls impenetrable. "It's too late for apologies," he declared, his voice cutting like a knife. "We're done, Y/N. There's nothing left for us here."

And with those words, Gojo turned away from Y/N, his heart heavy with the weight of their shattered dreams. Y/N watched him go, her own heart breaking with each step he took, knowing that she had lost him forever.

As she stood alone in the midst of the crowded ballroom, surrounded by people yet utterly alone, Y/N realized that some loves were simply not meant to be. And as the echoes of their shattered dreams faded into the night, she knew that their love would forever remain a bittersweet memory, a haunting reminder of what could have been.

But little did they know, fate had one final twist in store for them—one that would test the very limits of their love and resilience.

———

In a grand conference hall adorned with traditional Japanese décor, representatives from the Gojo and L/N clans gathered for a momentous occasion. The air was thick with tension as discussions ensued regarding the future alliances and arrangements between the two clans.

Among the attendees, Gojo and Y/N found themselves seated opposite each other, their eyes meeting across the room, sparking a flicker of recognition and longing. Despite the weight of their respective clan obligations, their hearts yearned for each other, their love like an unbreakable thread weaving through the fabric of fate.

As the discussions unfolded, it became increasingly clear that Y/N's marriage to another was imminent, a decision made in the interest of preserving clan honor and tradition. Gojo's heart sank at the realization, his resolve tested by the harsh reality of their circumstances.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans. In a twist of destiny, the conference took an unexpected turn when Y/N's father, the head of the L/N clan, announced a change of heart regarding her betrothal.

"Y/N," he declared, his voice carrying through the hushed hall, "I have reconsidered our previous arrangements. It is clear to me that your heart belongs elsewhere."

Y/N's heart soared at her father's words, her eyes searching the room until they found Gojo's, filled with hope and longing. Could it be true? Could they truly be given a chance to be together?

With a determined expression, Y/N's father turned to Gojo, his gaze unwavering. "Gojo Satoru," he addressed him, "I see the love that burns between you and my daughter, a love that cannot be denied. I give my blessing for your union."

Gojo's heart pounded in his chest as he met Y/N's father's gaze, his eyes brimming with gratitude and disbelief. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion.

And in that moment, amidst the weighty deliberations of the clan conference, Gojo and Y/N found themselves granted a rare gift—a chance to be together against all odds. With tears of joy in their eyes, they rose from their seats and embraced, their hearts overflowing with love and gratitude.

As they left the conference hall hand in hand, the echoes of their victory reverberated through the room, a testament to the enduring power of love to overcome even the most formidable of obstacles. And as they stepped out into the world, ready to embark on their journey together, Gojo and Y/N knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them with unwavering courage and boundless love.

———

Under the canopy of a thousand cherry blossoms in full bloom, Gojo and Y/N stood together, surrounded by friends and family, as they exchanged vows of eternal love and devotion.

The air was alive with the soft murmur of blessings and the sweet melody of traditional Japanese music, lending an air of serenity and grace to the sacred ceremony.

With trembling hands and hearts full of hope, Gojo and Y/N spoke words of promise and commitment, their voices ringing out like bells in the crisp spring air.

"I promise to cherish you, to support you, and to stand by your side through all the joys and sorrows that life may bring," Gojo vowed, his eyes locked with Y/N's, filled with unwavering determination.

"And I promise to love you, to honor you, and to hold you in my heart for all eternity," Y/N echoed, her voice steady despite the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

As they exchanged rings, sealing their bond in the eyes of their loved ones, a sense of peace washed over them, their souls intertwined in a sacred union that transcended time and space.

And as they sealed their vows with a tender kiss, the world seemed to stand still, the beauty of the moment etched into the fabric of eternity.

In that fleeting moment, amidst the petals of cherry blossoms that danced on the gentle breeze, Gojo and Y/N knew that their love was a force to be reckoned with—a love that would endure through all the trials and tribulations of life, shining brightly like the sun in the sky.

And as they stepped forward into their future together, hand in hand and heart to heart, they knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them with unwavering courage and boundless love, for they were united in spirit and soul, forever and always.

————————————————————————

Do not Plagiarize, translate or copy.

[shantechni]

I'm Glad Miri is Annoying

Minor spoilers for Spy x Family and Buddy Daddies I guess idk

I don't know if people legitimately forgot this or what, but Anya is not your average child. And believe it or not, the majority of children who classify as "your average child" have more flaws than simply getting a big head when things are going their way. They're stubborn to a fault at times, they tend to be selfish at the benefit of no one other than themselves, and you feel the frustration radiating off of whoever is their guardian.

I'm glad that Buddy Daddies pulls no punches when depicting how chaotic life becomes once a 4 year old girl with a clear lack of disciplinary figures or actual parents comes waltzing in like a hurricane. I also loved when Sweetness and Lightning didn't paint Tsumugi as a child that was any easier to care for after the death of her mom, and that Kouhei (her dad) genuinely struggled to handle her on his own.

Beyond that though, the biggest problem I see floating around is that people for some reason expect a story about childrearing to not actually be about childrearing?? And that's not me saying that's the case with everyone, but it certainly seems like a lot of people have solidified Spy x Family as a standard of the sorts in their mind when it comes to depictions of found family dynamics, childcare, and adoption. That would be fine if people kept in mind that not every standard set by Spy x Family is realistic, both in the plot of a different series and irl. And that's not entirely the fault of the readers/watchers, it simply became one of the recently most popular titles to explore those themes in a way that balances out with other aspects of the story.

But that's just it: Spy x Family is not solely about a man, woman, little girl, and dog slowly developing into a family. It's about their impact on a war torn world and them realizing that this fake family they put together for the sole purpose of continuing their roles in preventing another war is becoming real. This was a situation that everyone (aside from Bond) initially saw as a way of escaping unlikely situations or reaching their goals. The focal point of the story from day 1 has been about these oblivious adults coming to understand that they're already a family, even though they don't exactly see it as such yet.

Meanwhile, Buddy Daddies is not about any of that, they're in a modernized world that one could easily imagine existing right now. These two hitmen are not in an unfavorable situation, they did not swipe Miri off the streets for personal gain, and they weren't really ever denying how quickly they grew attached to her. Kazuki took Miri under his wing the moment they locked eyes and she started talking about cake and her "papa," the guy is literally enamoured by her just from that. And Rei constantly asked Kazuki in the beginning if he was sure about sending Miri back to her mom, because he may not know everything about his partner, but it's clear as day to him that he really doesn't want to let her go. And as I said earlier, it hardly takes any time for Miri to wrap Rei around her little fingers either. The anime is 4 episodes in and they easily settled into the idea of being a family, heck, she already has her own room.

This is getting long and I'm starting to lose my point here because I'm not in a good area to focus in right now, so I'll end with this: Do not go into Buddy Daddies expecting an idealized version of a fake family turned real, because that's not what PA Works is doing here at all.

[kaokassy]

*EPISODE 8 SPOILERS*

I don't understand all the negativity around this episode, from a certain part of the fandom. (actually i know very well why you're upset...but let's pass)

I absolutely loved Louis' revenge part, you could argue that it was way too fast paced but let's be honest, did you want it to last a whole episode? All the vampires were in the same place and asleep he had the advantage the only confrontation that we needed to see in more detailed was the one with Santiago, and as much as he is evil, Santiago is a ''young'' vampire right ?Louis could easily have the upper hand so it was a quick fight,it was satisfying .

I'm not going to dwell too much on the dungeon part because I don't think it happened like that. We're probably still in Louis' modified memories by Armand, so let's move on.

Why a powerful vampire like Armand would be threatened by Louis and not defend himself? Probably shame, disbelief and shock! He didn't expect that to happen at all! It was nice seeing Louis regains a little "power" i wasn't expecting a big fight and I think it's only the first confrontation.

Louis was literally glowing the moment he came back to New Orleans, chatting with the cab driver, smiling and all. He is not even back to the old Louis,no it's a new Louis!

Finally the reunion with a Lestat who was not even surprised to see him there, he was waiting for him and knew it was his Louis. Really appreciated that they spoke openly,one of their biggest problem is obvious lack of communication?? Them grieving the loss of their daughter and admitting they failed her .

I know that everyone has already made hundreds of metaphors about them hugging during the the hurricane but it was visually very beautiful. Despite all the storms in their lives it's always Louis and Lestat 🖤

So if they really met in New Orleans,it's Lestat's first real appearance on the show ?Well he was much more 'normal' than the way he was described by Louis and Armand, less flamboyant? But we must take into consideration that after the events in Paris he was surely no longer the same and lived a recluse life's, healing... I could never hate you Lestat.

I didn't talk about Armand/Louis and Daniel/Armand because I honestly don't know what to say there is probably more to come in s3. Devil minioners there's no better way to start the big DM Adventures!

Louis back in Dubai and talking with Daniel like two besties, please writers you absolutely have to develop this friendship we need to see their dynamic. I know that Daniel is thriving, accepted and adapted to vampirism so well

Claudia's dress and Paul portrait,can i cry? Two of most violent losses in his life, the ones to whom he never got to say goodbye and feels responsible for their deaths.They are here with him forever,the tree is gone just like Armand.

I'm not really sure about the interpretation but Louis casually declaring war on the other vampires,after finally accepting his vampirism? he is that guy!

Look at all the colors,he is Really free after almost 80 years in a black and cold controlled prison.The photography on this show is no joke each plans could be framed on a wall.

I probably forgot a lot but it's already really long! But I don't forget to once again thanks Jacob Anderson for his multi-layered interpretation of Louis. obviously i say it every days and i will continue to say it, give that man every awards.

[theghostwrites]

Reading The Hurricane Wars part 3 🌀

I can't even pause my reading to take notes in my notes app because between Talaric (Talasyn x Alaric💞) bickering, Elagbi being the sweetest sappiest father in all of contemporary literature, all the political details and maneuvering, and general emotional devastation I'm rendered incapable of blogging the experience.

My random thoughts up to chapter 14 are: the implication that Alaric's father tortures him makes me want to puke and punch a wall. Alunsina is such a cute, flowery name 🥺. Nenavar sounds like a dream place to live (if you don't mind the humidity and GoT level of shadiness). DRAGONS 😍😍.

[itzymaeee]

𝓐𝓬𝓬𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓵 𝓜𝓪𝓰𝓲𝓬 𝓜𝓲𝓼𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓼

Anyways my friend finally agree to share it (HORRAY!!) and I will be one who would upload it here since she's too lazy to make an account so anyways I would update the story every Monday.

Tw!!: atwow spoiler!!(at later part of the story), cussing, mention of angels and demons(hope you guys won't be offended),mention of blood,reader going naked during summoning,brutal scene.

𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

Avatar x human!umbra witch!reader

Disclaimer: I hope you guys will like the story and also advance sorry since the grammar will not be good since English is not her first language. And also to those who notice yes the story has bayonetta elements on it and yes the queen is canon in this story but we will only focus to our

Summary: Y/n was on a mission to the find all the missing artificats of her extinct clan but after her miscounted spell to travel for the next one she found herself in another world far away from her home. She found herself in between the war of reef na'vi and humanity. plus an annoying 8 ft tall blue cat who she befriend for a month and saving his ass to his near death.

In the bloody barren lands where you can see a big hurricane at the center of the land in the water you can see some deformed hands that looks like it's reaching out surrounding it, you can occasionally hear a disturbing screams and indiscernible noises everywhere.

On the top of the mountain of the barren land there stood a beautiful woman with a bewitching body. She has a black hair which is styled into high bun adorned with gold chains with red stone that looks like made up of rose in between it. On her face she wears her signature black and gold butterfly mask with red beads hanging on edge of both wings. Her attire is composed of her hair turned into a skin-tigh body suit with golden chains and rose like patterns and an opening at the back straps on each arm with a sleeves of her hair draping down, black and gray heels strapped with two pistol on it. And her name is (Y/n) the last remaining member of the Umbra clan.

As you stood on top of the bloody mountain you hold your umbra watch looking for the next location for you to find the next missing artifacts of your extinct clan. It's been 5 month that you were in hell looking for the artifact that have fallen during the witch hunts raid with your fallen umbran sister. It's a little bit tiring since infernal demons are cheeky little shit that like to miss you up or wants you dead for them to feast upon your poor defenseless soul especially if your a witch.

"5 months in this hellish place and one more to go he better be making a grand party for my return or else I will shove this damn artifacts on his asshole" you grumble angrly as you set your umbra watch on your chest and ready your transportation magic for the next location of the artifacts.

Sadly it's seems to be your bad day since your too tired to notice you might have miscounted the ruins you made for your transportation as this took toll on your magic,tired body and mind you fainted. Instead it transported you far away from your world a world where you will be in between with this two sides fighting for this planet.

Truth to be told you always despise using transportation magic you rather use the beast within for easy. Even though your one of the best in your clan you still despite it since it easly drains you in both magic and body since you have to take a few months rest to regain your energy back.

As you try to felt the place where you transported, you only you feel is chilling on your spine and the next thing you know wetness surrounding your body. You try to open your eyes but the only you can see is blurred blue as you strangling to swim but your body won't cooperate tired from the endless looking and magic drain from using it. You can feel yourself drowning as you try to swim up but your eyesight started to darken the last thing you remember is a blue silhouette coming near you and holding you.

As you woke up you seems to be in a cave as you try to slowly to sit your body up you only felt pain on your tired body. Observing the place you were in you noticed that the cave seems a little bit different from the cave you have been since this one has a glowing leaves on it and water inside the cave seems to be glowing that looks like came from the swimming fish like thing.

"I'm I dead?" You Scoffed

"Of course not idiot if I'm dead my soul should be getting tortured by madama eris and the infernal demons I have contract with in inferno" you cringe at the idea of you getting tortured for billion years in hell.

As you try to stand up slowly and walking at the entrance of cave you just notice where you at and realization of where you got transported. You tried to use your magic to know where you are but something it's stopping you from using it. Dread that's only you felt you never have felt this not after the massacre of your clan members during the witch hunt done by those angels,humans and the damn exiled lumen sage.

As you try to calm yourself that maybe it just your exhausted mindset that it's stopping your body to use it. Feeling a presence near you walking slowly you immediately summoned your pistol at your hand shotted a warning shot at their side

"Woah!" Yelled as the blue humaniod man cat while holding a knife fallen thinking I shot him. Rising my pistol at him he suddenly got up shouting at me I was too confused why is there a humaniod blue man cat and where did this came from?

"Wait wait hold up can we just calm down" he said as I just look at him. He seems to be realizing something while I just rise my eyebrow at him.

"Wait right I forgot you sky people doesn't know na'vi language let me just speak at you in English" he murmed as as he put both hands in a surrender position. What does he mean na'vi language? What the hell is a na'vi? And sky people? Is that what people this day describe a person now what are they an angel? You scoffed at that stupid thought.

"Calm calm can we just put our weapons down I'm not here to hurt you so can you put it down your gun?"

"Ridiculous then why are you holding your knife while trying to sneak at my back?"

"It's just misunderstanding okay I was just going to wrap the wound you have"

"Where am I? And why are you blue?"

"I will tell but can you please put it down your gun?"

"No"

"Okay so your in Pandora and the reason we are blue because I'm a na'vi?"

"Pandora? Is that a new island in earth?"

"No your in Pandora, planet earth is a thousand miles away" you looked at him confused lowering your gun hearing a new info that your a thousand miles away from earth.

"Excuse me did you just said a thousand miles away from earth?" He grimaced and nodded at your question. You just stood there for entirely a minute thinking how the hell did you transported yourself a thousand miles away from earth you just sighed.

"That's the reason why I fucking hate using that damn magic like everytime i use it it's like it wants to fuck me up everyti-" as you grumbled as you put both hands at your waist and strutted back again in the cave.

Leaving the blue humaniod man cat that you have left followed you back inside while observing you from the outfit you wear, your really from earth but the most obvious he noticed is the lack of mask you wear. The mask that the skypeople from his home and the people hunting his father and his family that required to wear for them to breath and survive the toxic ear of Pandora.

But to you, you're breathing like your a native in this land and he also noticed that you have the same height as him your taller than any human he meet minus spider but still taller. He was confused he never meet a sky people who can breath the same way as the Na'vi nor having same height as a na'vi.

"Take a picture it will last longer, the way you looking at me I will think you have a crush on me" you said while posing as you noticed his longer gaze at you smirking as he started stuttering you strutted at the woven mat you were layed before and sit upon it. The blue man cat followed suit as you signaled him to sit beside you.

Silence was only heard except for the sound in the ocean. As you tried to think how to survive in this world since it will take a month for you to reign your energy. As you looked at your blue man cat companion who seemed to be thinking what to say in this awkward silence between us.

"So whats your name anyway? I just can't call you blue man cat?" As you looked at him. He looked at you confused for a minute as you stare at him waiting while rising your eyebrow. Sensing your waiting he coughed embrassed a little.

"My name's Neteyam" he said as you nooded at him and test his name.

"Well what a unique name you have" you thought.

"Name (Y/n) nice to meet you" you nooded at him and he smiled at you and test your name.

As you both looked at the entrance of the cave noticing the sky beautiful color due it's blue hour.

"Let's just hope I will make it back"

_______________________________________

That's the wrap for our first chapter if ever you saw some grammar error please note it's English is not our first language and also don't be shy to comment down your opinion really need some beta reader so thank you 🤗🤗

Taglist:

@bitch-i-lovee-you

@mandokarla-mavrok

@anxiety-queer

@yu-rylee

[anavatazes]

Learn to be a Texas Southern, From Austin.

Ok. First of all, I love you all. I truly do. I adore my fan fic writers, especially if you write my Joel crack... um, stories. *cough* The man keeps me in a bear hug and refuses to let go. Not that I am complaining ;).

BUT, for the LOVE of all that is holy and good and Joel, STOP using any American TV show or movie for reference to how things are in Texas as far as the food, the way they talk, the way the weather is, how and what a BBQ is, and I swear if I see another one with snow...

Like I said, I love you all. Yes, fan fiction is fantasy. You can write what you want. How you want. That's what is so great and wonderful about it. Get creative, get wild. Go crazy! But don't sit there and act like you do your research and are an accurate little miss that can do no wrong. Nuh-uh. I will find a slew of little old ladies that will Bless Your Hearts from here to Oblivion if you call Ribs with BBQ sauce proper BBQ in Texas. Believe you me. Every State in the Union has their own form of BBQ, and in the Southern States, it's a fucking religion akin to College Football and Jesus.

American TV and movies are pretty generic when it comes to the accuracy of our own culture and will take great liberties when trying to pass off one area for another. This includes accents, ways people speak, and how the areas they are in truly are. I touched on this briefly when I went over the whole Bless Your Heart phrase and how it does not mean what you think it means and it can get pretty offensive quick. American TV likes to go for the shock value, and the drama more than it likes to go for the accuracy and really doesn't care who it offends in the process. And older shows, like Dallas, Southerners don't talk like that anymore. Except maybe a few left in Kentucky... Maybe. Watch play-throughs of the games if you want a feel for how Joel speaks. Especially the first one. Stay away from the second one if you are trying to avoid season 2 spoilers for the show.

No Outbreak!/Pre-Outbreak!Joel will spend Saturday mornings with Sarah hiking. And there are next to no hills (unless man-made) in Austin. It's all flatland. No mountains. A few rivers, and Lake Travis isn't far away. A lot of trails all around Austin from 1999 to 2013, depending on when you wanted to have Outbreak Day if you wanted it at all. They'd probably go to one of a trillion restaurants in Austin for lunch, depending on their taste. It is canon that Joel can't cook. Tommy, Ellie, AND Sarah all bring it up in Pt. 1 and Pt. 2, if you know where to look. I would say one of their favorite places would be Home Slice for some great pizza. Or maybe even Torchies for a wide variety of tasty Tex-Mex food. Maybe even pick up some Brisket (Texas BBQ) to take home to get ready for an afternoon spent watching the University of Texas football game on the TV, if we're in August to January. Honestly, May through the beginning of October, they probably aren't doing too much hiking. The temperature of 100° plus (in Fahrenheit) is all the rage at this time. And you might have high humidity one day, with non-stop thunderstorms that might seem like a hurricane, and can spawn a tornado, but really isn't a hurricane. Then the next day, be the dryest heat that you've ever experienced in your life. Though, from what I've heard, the latter rarely happens now. More humid days are common now.

Texas BBQ.

If you are ever in the Southern United States, do yourself a favor, and just do not call anything related to the grill BBQ, ok. You will be better off and have a nicer visit, and life overall. If you like to live dangerously, go ahead and call the grill a BBQ. Call a cookout a BBQ. Go ahead. I'll wait. I'll have the tissues ready and waiting for the passive-aggressive politeness from the ladies and the open hostility from the not-so-gentlemen. You have a Cookout, or you Grill out. A BBQ is a way of life and means something different in each state (and will start a war in North Carolina because they are so special, they have two kinds of BBQ). Most everyone in (at least the South) can agree that BBQ food is some sort of slow cooked meat. In Texas, almost 99% of the population agrees it's Brisket, and the rest are wrong. (That's another Southern thing, they are right, and everyone else is just wrong. Drives me nuts when they use it in an argument). Now, they will have different ways of preparing it, and they will have fights over it (have witnessed several), but they all agree on Brisket.

Being close to the Mexican border and Texas' history as a part of Mexico once upon a time means that there is a heavy Mexican influence in Austin. As much as Texas likes to claim to be white bread, it really isn't. From the food to the people to the names of streets, cities, etc, there is a heavy Mexican influence. The idea that, somewhere, that Joel and Tommy have Latino blood is not far-fetched. Especially on the show. At the very least they would have a basic understanding of Spanish. That is being from Austin, regardless if they share any Mexican heritage or not.

Politeness and the True Southern Gentlemen.

I hate to break it to you, but there is no such thing as the great Southern Politeness and Hospitality. In fact, if a guy comes up to me and says he's a True Southern Gentleman, I'm running the other way. That "Gentleman" is 9/10 times a walking sexual assault case. This is not to say there are no nic+e and polite people in the South, but it is no different from any other place in the US. But, I will tell you, from the upper middle class on up, they can be some of the most passive-aggressive mother fuckers you will ever meet. From the Mid-Middle Class on down, the more hospitable they will be, and they fit the stereotype the upper class has somehow gotten. It's a mess.

Religion

Not everyone in the South is Christian, or devout, but will say a phrase that will make you think they are. I touched on this in my Bless Your Heart post. As God as my Witness, Good Lord Willin', Christ Almighty, and others are common phrases you will hear in the South. It DOES NOT mean the speaker is religious by any means. Trust me.

That's all I have for now. I could go on, as there is more. And please remember, fan fiction is fantasy, it's creative. Write what you want. This is just to help out those who are looking for more accuracy. And as it has been a while since Austin for me, and you are from Texas, and more specifically Austin, and you wish to add more info, and/or correct anything, feel free, please. There are a lot of differences among the Southern States, and it can be a pain to keep it all straight. So I have no problem in receiving help to keep in all in line :).

[fandomtherapy44]

Castiel x reader Chapter 15

Summary: SEASON 5 WHOOOO!!!!!!!! LET's GO! So I am so excited for this season so many great episodes. There are going to be a lot more Cas and Y/n scenes. And more chapters too. I do recommend that you read my first book so you get the full Y/n Winchester build-up. Okay with out further due enjoy the second book of Love War and Grace.

Paring: Castiel x reader

word count: 3,506

Warnings: Some language, Typical Supernatural violence, Spoilers for season five of Supernatural, Y/n getting hurt emotional and physical.

I got the divider from

Firefly Graphics

Chapter 15: Sympathy for the Devil POV (Y/n) 

All my life I believed in what I could see and what I read because that led to what I could see. Getting all my information from my Dad, Bobby, my brothers, and lore books. I never would believe in a million years that I would be standing here in an abandoned convent at age twenty-four with the Devil ascending from Hell and my best friend being an Angel who I would slap silly for making me leave.

The whole building shook more and the light beaming more bright as he approached the surface more and more. “COME ON GUYS!” I shook them out of the staring gaze and we ran to the doors that of course slammed in front of us. “Oh come on give us a Damn break!” The three of us slammed our hands on the doors. Trying to get it open. It was no use the force was trying to keep us here. “I LOVE YOU GUYS!” I shouted over the shaking. “WE LOVE YOU TOO!” I closed my eyes to not be blinded before my death but it never happened. 

“What the devil is your name” “Sa-Sa-Sa-Sa-Yo-Yosemite Sam.” “Is that freaking Lonney tunes?” I opened my eyes and on the little TV was indeed Lonney tunes. “What the hell?” Dean questioned and rightfully so. We were on a fucking plane. “Folks, quick word from the flight deck. We're just passing over Ilchester, then Ellicott City, on our initial descent into Baltimore—” “Guys we were just in IIchester.” “So if you'd like to stretch your legs, now would be a good time to—” The pilot was starting to say but then the light beam came up almost crashing into the plane. The masks came down and we all grabbed one I was in the window seat and I was forced to look out to the world and the horrors that were about to unfold.

We had rented a car that we were probably never going to give back. And it seemed the whole world had seemed imploded in five minutes. “—saying it's very unlikely an abandoned convent would be a target for terrorists, either foreign or homegrown.” Never say never. “Change the station.” Dean said not wanting to hear. “—Hurricane Kinley, unexpectedly slamming into the Galveston area—” Again changed. “—announced a successful test of the North Korean nuclear—” Again. “—a series of tremors—” “—swine flu—” I reach forward and turn off the radio.

“Dean, look—” Sam didn’t even address me I don’t why. “Don't say anything.” “It's okay. We just got to keep our heads down and hash this out, all right?” Pause. Sam looked like a scared kid caught he kind of was. “All right, well, first things first—How did we end up on Soul Plane?” “My guess angels right it has to be of course Cas would save us.” They both looked back at me unsure maybe it was it wasn't that was what made it scary. “Well, whatever. It's the least of our worries. We need to find Cas.” Dean finished eyes focused on the road. And then a feeling came over me like it had never come before, extreme worry.

We arrived at Chuck’s house and we slowly arrived inside our guns raised. “Chuck…” Everything had been thrown around like a tornado. Sam was turning the corner when Chuck came around and hit him with a toilet plunger. “Geez! Ow!” “Sam.” Chuck said happily. “Yeah!” Sam responded with a little sarcasm. “Hey, Chuck.”  Dean and I greeted. “So...you're okay?” He asked Sam cautiously. Sam held his head in pain. “Well, my head hurts.” “No, I mean—I mean, my—My last vision, You went, like, full-on Vader. Your body temperature was one-fifty. Your heart rate was two hundred. Your eyes were black.” Dean and I were both shocked to hear that. “Your eyes went black?” Dean asked. “I didn't know.” Great that's just great. “Look let's just talk to Cas bout this I'm sure he has an answer, So chuck where he is.” I asked sounding so sure.

“He's dead. Or gone. The archangel smote the crap out of him. I'm sorry.” As soon as the words left his lips it felt like the world had titled and that the words speaking were fuzzy. “You're sure? I mean, maybe he just vanished into the light or something.” Before Chuck could answer I interpreted. “Chuck… where is your bathroom?” He pointed upstairs. I slowly made my way upstairs kind of in a zombie-like state. My brothers looking at me worryingly. I entered the bathroom and just stared at the mirror. “Cas you stupid motherfuc-” I breathed in deeply trying to keep everything in but it didn't work.

The more I stared the more I got angry he was gone and I let him go. I punch the mirror and it shatters in big pieces I pick it up and look down at my broken image and end up cutting my hand. “Shit, fuck!” The pain reminded me that this was real not a nightmare. That I couldn't wake up and call for him and he would be there. I didn't have time to wrap it before I heard voices downstairs that were not there before.

But one, in particular, caught my attention fucking Zachariah. I walk back to it looks like the Angels threatening them. “You had a chance to stop your brother, and you couldn't. So let's not quibble over who started what. Let's just say it was— —all our faults and move on. 'Cause like it or not— —it's Apocalypse Now.” They then notice me. "Ah, Y/n finally joining us I see.” I was seething with so much rage that I couldn’t muster out any words all I could do was just tighten my fucked up hand. “Huh usually you have a comeback. Aww your bestie dying really upset you huh now that's adorable.” “THATS IT” I jumped to do what against an angel I don't know what but I was going to do something. Before anything, Sam held me back. “LET ME GO!” I threw back my head hitting Sam. “Fuck- Y/n you can't touch them!” “I can try!” Zach looked very happy to see my reaction.

“NOW that’s the Winchester fight I was looking for!” “Now Dean back to you, we're back on the same team again.” Dean heavily scoffed at that. “Is that so?” “You want to kill the devil. We want you to kill the devil. It's...synergy.” “And I'm just supposed to trust you?” “Cram it with walnuts, ugly.” Zach started to look annoyed. “This isn't a game, son. Lucifer is powerful in ways that defy description. We need to strike now, hard and fast—before he finds his vessel.” It makes sense he is well was an angel. “His vessel? Lucifer needs a meat suit?” Sam questioned.

“He is an angel. Them's the rules. And when he touches down, we're talking Four Horsemen, red oceans, fiery skies— the greatest hits. You can stop him, Dean, but you need our help.” “You listen to me, you two-faced douche. After what you did, I don't want jack squat from you!” Yeah, Dean! Stick it to the Angel. “You listen to me, boy! You think you can rebel against us? As Lucifer did?” I then noticed Dean’s hand and realized his plan. “You're bleeding.” Zack now realizing. “Yeah fuck head it's in case you of you showed up.” I pulled the door sideways and slammed my hand. a burst of white came through and the angel's screams went with it. “Learned that from my friend Cas, you son of a bitch.” I looked around with tears still stinging my eyes. “This sucks ass.” “Yes Chuck it really does.” I wiped my eyes and started to walk out.

We had found a shitty little motel where probably more dead people had been here than alive but it would have to do for now. I was going over any Lucifer lore I could find which was a lot while Dean meticulously cleaned his gun which was his way of doing dishes to keep something off your mind. Sam had entered throwing something at Dean. I looked and it was a hex bag. “Here. Hex bags. No way the angels will find us with those. Demons, either, for that matter.” I stood to get closer to it. “Where'd you get it?” I questioned seeing the details. “I made it.” Dean and I both gaped at Sam.” like no offense but how” Sam timely glanced down and answered. “I...I learned it from Ruby.” He answered hesitantly.

“Well, at least she was somewhat useful instead of just being a lying snake bitch.” I tried to lighten the convo well in my way. Dean just asked Sam the question that we had both been wanting to ask. “Speaking of. How you doing? Are you jonesing for another hit of bitch blood or what?” “I-it's weird. Uh, tell you the truth, I'm fine. No shakes, no fever. It's like whoever...put me on that plane cleaned me right up.” Well that’s… convent. “Supernatural methadone.”

“Yeah, I guess.” “Guys-” “Sam. It's okay. You don't have to say anything.” Dean answered but I really didn’t know what to say. “Well, that's good. Because what can I even say? "I'm sorry"? "I screwed up"? Doesn't really do it justice, you know? Look, there's nothing I can do or say that will ever make this right—” “So why do you keep bringing it up?! Look, all I'm saying is, why do we have to put this under a microscope? We made a mess. We clean it up. That's it.” Sam nodded but I knew there would be more to come. “All right, so, say this is just any other hunt. You know? What do we do first?” “We'd, uh, figure out where the thing is.” I suggested. “All right. So we just got to find...the devil.” Yeah super easy.

I was still looking through lore and Sam was rereading Dad’s journal for like the thousandth time while Dean had the news on that was reminding us that the world was ending. “How would you then explain an earthquake, a hurricane, and multiple tornadoes, all at the same time, all around the globe?” The guy that was the scientist was trying to make sense. “Two words. Carbon emissions.” ��Yeah, right, wavy gravy” Dean scarasacally replied. There's a knock on the door and we weren't expecting anyone so Sam goes to open the door with his gun ready. But uh there's someone there that we definitely did not know.

“You okay, lady?” “Sam...is it really you?” Sam looked back at us confused as hell and a little scared. This Becky steps in the room bewildered to be looking at Sam holding him tightly. “Uh, do I know you?” She let him go. “No. But I know you. You're Sam Winchester. And you're—” She looked to Dean and was Disaponited. “—not what I pictured. I'm Becky.” Then she saw me. “And you are Y/n Winchester let me just say that I aspire to be as badass as you every day.” She shook my hand hard. “Uh thank you.”

“I read all about you guys. And I've even written a few—” A few WHAT? Maybe I don’t want to know. “Anyway, Mr. Edlund told me where you were.” “Chuck?” “He's got a message, but he's being watched. Angels. Nice change-up to the mythology, by the way. The demon stuff was getting kind of old.” I wish I could pick which monsters I fight day to day. “Right. Just, um...what's the message?” Sam questioned. “He had a vision. "The Michael sword is on earth. The angels lost it."” She repeated dramatically.

“The Michael sword?” Dean asked. “Becky, does he know where it is?” “In a castle, on a hill made of forty-two dogs.” “Becky, what the Fuck does that mean?”   “It doesn't make sense, but that's what he said.” Becky stepped closer again to Sam. “I memorized every word. For you.” She hugged Sam tight again. “Uh, Becky can you stop hugging me?” “No” “Okay Becky thank you.” I grabbed her but she had a bit of a death grip. “Becky Let go!” “Never!” 

We had finally gotten Becky outside but holy shit she could be a contender for a strong man contest. There’s another knock on the door and thankfully it wasn't a crazy fangirl. “Hey Bobby” It was good to see him especially after... Cas. When I went to hug him something felt different maybe it was the situation but it felt muddy hugging him. “Good to see you kids all in one piece.” “You weren't followed, were you?” Dean checked with Bobby. “You mean by angels, demons, or Sam's new superfan?” We all chuckled. “I heard, Romeo. So...sword of Michael, huh?” “You think we're talking about the actual sword from the actual archangel?” “You better friggin' hope so.” Bobby opened a lore book to a picture to the Archangel Michael.

“That's Michael. Toughest son of a bitch they got.” “You kidding me? Tough? That guy looks like Cate Blanchett.” Dean committed. “Well, I wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alley, believe me. He commands the heavenly host. During the last big dust-up upstairs, he's the one who booted Lucifer's ass to the basement. Did it with that sword.” “So if we can find it…” “We can kick the devil's ass all over again. All right. So, where do we start?” Sam finalized. “Divvy up and start reading—try and make sense of Chuck's nonsense.” I go back to the lore while Bobby asks Sam “Kid? You all right?” “No, actually. Bobby, this is all my fault. I'm sorry.”

Dean and I look at each other In what’s about to happen. “Lilith did not break the final seal. Lilith was the final seal.” “Sam-” “I killed her, and I set Lucifer free.” “You what?” Bobby was confused. “You guys warned me about Ruby, the demon blood, but I didn't listen. I brought this on” Oh Sam. “You're damn right you didn't listen. You were reckless and selfish and arrogant.” “I'm sorry.” “Oh, yeah? You're sorry you started Armageddon? This kind of thing don't get forgiven, boy. If, by some miracle, we pull this off...I want you to lose my number. You understand me?” What the Hell!? I understood that he messed up but he’s Sam our Family I would have to talk to Bobby later. “There's an old church nearby. Maybe I'll go read some of the lore books there.” “Yeah. You do that.”  “Sam I'll come too.” “You sure?” “Yeah let’s go.” 

The church was kind of abandoned everyone had gone home to their families with all the horrible shit going down. The books had dust covered all over them. “Um I'll start here and I'll start here.” Sam pointed a direction for me but I think he needed a different one. “Sam what Bobby said he didn't mean it.” “Yeah sure he didn't.” We sat on a table. “We just all are scared.” “Y/n why haven’t you said anything to me about Ruby?”

“Well, I don’t think me saying I told you so would help anything.” “But aren’t you angry at me? Hate me.” I was shocked at that. “Sam of course I'm… angry but I could never Hate you.” “Really?” He stared at me tears welling up. “With Dean dying last year and… Cas I don’t think we have time to hate. Why would I waste time hating when I could love the people who mean the most. Sam, you're human you made a mistake now you get to make up for it.” I smiled at him and squeezed his hand. “You're the best sister a brother could ask for.” “And you're the best big brother a sister could ask for.” We hugged. “Okay let's actually look.” Sam sniffled and went to the books.

While I somehow made my way to the front of the church sighing and sitting on the pew. “Ha, I can't believe I'm here again.” “Look, God, I know me talking to you is kind of insane you know I didn't even believe in you until a prayer was answered. By an Angel who saved my life.” The tears came rolling down. “Castiel you can't be… dead there I said it you can't because I'm still here because of you so you have to be too.” I wiped the tears. “Y/n you okay?” “Uh yeah let's go”

We walked into chaos Bobby was on the floor bleeding out. “NO!” “Heya, Sammy. You miss me? 'Cause I sure missed you.”  A woman demon said. “Meg?” FUCK “Hey N/n I heard you had an angel on your shoulder where is he?” She tilted her head in amusement. “Oh, you asked for it Bitch!” I punched her square in the nose. “I see you got better at fighting good I like a challenge.” She kicked at my feet but I dodged it and threw her against the wall. The three of us cornered her and she smoked out like a coward. “Bobby!” I applied pressure to the stab.

We had gotten to the storage room after dropping Bobby at the ER even though we wanted to stay. We entered and there were two dead demons on the ground. “I see you told the demons where the sword is.” “Oh, thank god. The angels are here.” “And to think...they could have grabbed it any time they wanted.” Zach peered at Dean. “It was right in front of them.” “What do you mean?” “We may have planted that particular piece of prophecy inside Chuck's skull, but it happened to be true. We did lose the Michael sword. We truly couldn't find it. Until now. You've just hand-delivered it to us.” I glanced around seeing no sword.

“I knew you were ugly Zach but not blind.” I practically spit out to him. “We don't have anything.” “It's you, chucklehead. You're the Michael sword.” “What, you thought you could actually kill Lucifer? You simpering wad of insecurity and self-loathing? No. You're just a human, Dean. And not much of one.” “What do you mean, I'm the sword?” “You're Michael's weapon. Or, rather, his...receptacle.” “I'm a vessel?” “You're the vessel. Michael's vessel.” “How? Why—why me?” “Because you're chosen! It's a great honor, Dean.” Zach is being a huge ass. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, life as an angel condom. That's real fun. I think I'll pass, thanks.” “Joking. Always joking. Well...no more jokes.” Zach raises his hands like guns. “Bang.” And suddenly my leg is broken. “AHH” So is Sam’s.

“You son of a bitch!” “Keep mouthing off, I'll break more than their legs. I am completely and utterly through screwing around. The war has begun. We don't have our general. That's bad. Now, Michael is going to take his vessel and lead the final charge against the adversary. You understand me?”  “How many humans die in the crossfire, huh? A million? Five, ten?” “Probably more. If Lucifer goes unchecked, you know how many die? All of them. He'll roast the planet alive.” “There's a reason you're telling me this instead of just nabbing me. You need my consent. Michael needs my say-so to ride around in my skin.” “Unfortunately, yes.” “Well, there's got to be another way.” “There is no other way. There must be a battle. Michael must defeat the serpent. It is written.” “Yeah, maybe. But, on the other hand... Eat me. The answer's no.” “Okay. How about this? Your friend Bobby—we know he's gravely injured. Say yes, and we'll heal him. Say no, he'll never walk again.” “No.”

“Then how about we heal you from...stage-four stomach cancer?” Dean doubles over spilling blood. “No.” “Then let's get really creative. Uh, let's see how...Sam does without his lungs. And Y/n no heart.” He snapped his fingers and I felt my body stiffen up. “Are we having fun yet? You're going to say yes, Dean” “Just kill us.” “Kill you? Oh, no. I'm just getting started.” There was a burst light then talking but I couldn't make it out. Then the pain stopped I looked up and It was Cas standing over me putting his hand over my heart. “Cas….” Then everything went black.

“CAS!” I woke up in a hospital bed. “Woah woah take kid take it easy your heart literally can't take it.” It was Dean. “Dean, what happened?” “Uh, Cas came in saving us he healed you.” “Where is he?”I dont know.” “The doctors said that you probably wouldn't have made it if you had not the CPR aka the Angel healing. But they want to keep you for observation.” “How's Bobby?” “About to find out you just rest kid we have lots to tell you after.” “Kay” He left and I am left to think. But I knew whatever what was going to happen it was going to be okay. With Cas alive everything was okay.

AN/ Ok everyone that was the first chapter in season 5 I hope everyone is as excited as am for the future. And don't worry we will have a proper Cas and Y/n meet up next chapter. Thank you for reading! see you yawl xoxo Gossip Girl ;);)

[museofreverie]

Chapter 01 ⋆ The Girl Who Knew

WAYS OF FREEDOM┊Pairing: Eren Jaeger x Modern Fem!Reader ┊2nd POV

In which a chronically online Gen Z that went through the pandemic goes to the Attack on Titan Universe and tries her very best to change the ending with an "I can fix him" mentality.

⋆ CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 1.3k words

⋆ WARNINGS: manga spoilers

⋆ A/N: Hope this chapter hits close to what you felt after reading the last manga chapter <3

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𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟏.

“EREN TURNED INTO a what?!”

          You blurted out in disbelief, the thought of it only processing now in your brain.

          An ache was starting to form so deep in your stomach as you took in the bittersweet feeling after reading Chapter 139; the last chapter of the Attack on Titan series. Your lips trembled more at the continuous hurricane of emotions you felt towards the final chapter.

          Burying your head into the pillow that was in between your hands, squishing it tightly just to muffle your voice from being heard by your family. You raised your head to wipe your tears with the sleeve of your shirt, "Get it together, Y/N. It's just a drawing, shit, don't cry."

          Your eyes were already swollen from the tears that kept on spilling out non-stop, making it harder for you to continue reading the next manga panel because of your blurry vision.

          "Don't cry, don't cry. You idiot, it's just a fucking drawing." You kept repeating the words to yourself even if it was hard to do as you were already having a hard time breathing from breaking down over the last chapter of the manga.

          "Did Eren really just turn into a bird?" you pondered. “Or is it just some type of symbolism?"

          Confusion had now masked your face as you were beginning to have a whole conversation with the air about your thoughts over the ending—which was probably absurd to others. You were left with a lot of questions unanswered by the author, that's why.

          Because as much as you loved the series wholeheartedly, it felt like everything from the last chapter was rushed. But you were aware of having a tragic ending from the story due to the author hinting about it in one of his interviews you've read, but it was like he did a lot of characters dirty when he admitted that he couldn't express well what he wanted to show to the readers. And you felt so frustrated with every revelation that was unfolded to the viewers.

          "This doesn't even make any sense — No, shit, don't cry."

          You had witnessed so many side characters being brutally killed by titans or by devils disguised in the faces of humans from the last season and you felt devastated about their fate. And Eren was also willing to turn into a devil just to save the people he loved.

          But after reading Chapter 139, it's as if all the decisions he made were useless. Everything he did to achieve freedom went to waste and you were puzzled about it and felt like there were a lot of plot holes that still needed to be filled. You were even more baffled when Armin thanked Eren for destroying a huge part of humanity during their talk in the paths. You felt like his reason behind activating the gruesome rumbling to defeat his enemies and kill innocent lives from hatred wasn't justifiable.

          Just because he wanted to do it? That is so messed up. He deserves an Oscar award for that acting during the table scene though, you thought. The poor boy didn't even know if what he was doing was right. You didn't know if Eren kept a facade all this time or not, just so he could move forward until the end. Perhaps it is because he wanted his friends to live a peaceful life free from the horrors of war and suffering.

          Eren Jaeger, the boy who had sought freedom all this time was just a slave to the idea of achieving it. That the very person who always kept on moving forward for freedom was the least free of them all.

          How ironic, you thought.

          You had spent a lot of random days over-analyzing every small detail from each episode that was allegedly said to be a piece of information in foreshadowing that'll be put together for the most hyped ending of the series. You've even found yourself wasting a lot of time reading tons of well-thought-out theories and videos by other fans if you weren't busy studying. And now you didn't know what to feel about it.

          You constantly fanned your face with your hand, while also hiccupping from being overwhelmed by these strong emotions that clouded you. Taking a slow deep breath, you brought your focus back towards your laptop that was sitting in your lap now that was containing the very reason why you were crying in the first place.

          You felt like a clown since you told yourself that you were only supposed to have a small break from doing your piled homework for online classes—which didn't work out well as it turned into a longer one when you were scrolling through your timeline on Twitter and saw the hashtags that were trending which contained the spoilers about the much-awaited ending of Attack on Titan by the anime community.

          Deciding to check it out as you couldn't contain your excitement—but here you were, an hour later, feeling empty inside after all that reading. What you have read just now was tormenting your heart in the worst possible way, as every sob that escaped your lips made the ache in your chest keep on tightening.

          "This is still so sad, what the hell," you muttered, your voice croaking from all that crying. But all of a sudden, a small tender smile crept its way up to your face when a panel from the last chapter engraved itself in your head. It was the only thing that left you crying in awestruck at how beautiful and well-crafted it was.

          "At least, Levi's alive."

          You knew anime wasn't deep to begin within the eyes of those who don't dare to watch it, but man, this one was affecting you after all that emotional rollercoaster ride the anime series had offered. You bit your lower lip as you grab your phone beside you to check on the time. The screen from your phone opened and the light from it illuminated, reflecting on your face.

          1:40 am, it showed.

          A deep sigh escaped your lips. You were about to pull another all-nighter again just to finish your school activities for an online school. Days spent at home tend to blur and you see yourself doing the same old and messy routine. Sometimes you get a couple of hours of relief from the little things that kept you sane while staying inside your room all day, but there was always this constant pit of anxiety in your stomach and running through your veins.

          And you felt like you just have no control over it anymore making you feel drained. You didn't even know if it was worth it to keep on going and work hard for a future you weren't even sure you'd have. You just couldn't find the energy to do anything anymore. You were just so lost and couldn't figure out what to do with your life. But you had to keep on moving forward.

          It's for the grades. You can do this. Your mind started to drift back to the manga panels again as you reminisced about them, and a smile made its way to your face before you continued to study.

          With the thought that one of your favorite series has now come to an end, you brought your right hand to your heart—doing the salute from Attack on Titan to show your gratitude towards the show and author.

          "Shinzou wo Sasageyo!"

          You whisper-shouted the Japanese version, as your chest was now swelling with pride and nostalgia for a country from a story that doesn't even exist. But they were right. No matter what the ending of the journey might turn out, all good things must come to an end. And you knew Attack on Titan was going down in history.

To be continued . . .

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