#but I'll still write it as boon...

[mirai-e-jump]

Animage April 2024 Issue Bakuage Sentai Boonboomger Introduction ft. Iuchi Haruhi Interview (translations below)

Publication: March 8, 2024 (between episodes 1-2)

"Receiving the baton from the kings are superheros who drive cars with flair! The new Sentai, with its trademark racing suits, will burst throughout the world!"

Taiya Hando is a "deliverer" who delivers whatever is asked of him. When the Great Space Invasion Running Team Hashiryan appears, along with Ishiro Meita and Mira Shifuto, they change into the Boonboomgers! To protect the people, they challenge the Hashiryan to battle!!

The 48th installment of the Super Sentai series, "Bakuage Sentai Boonboomger," is now airing. This time, it's a Sentai characterized by the fact that all members are professionals in some way. Taiya, a genius in development and modification, drives a car he tuned up himself and works as a deliverer. Each person plays an active role by demonstrating their own skills. Another important point is that the "usual look" is different, with Ishiro being a freelance spy, and Mira working a variety of part time jobs. It'll be interesting to see what kind of chemistry will be created by these members, who all have different personalities, lives, and areas of expertise.

We also wonder what will happen to Jou Akuse and Genba Bureki. How they'll become members of the Boonboomgers, we can only expect an "explosive" drama! _

Taiya Hando: He's an expert in development and modification, and works as a "deliverer". He makes quick decisions, with his motto being to "take the wheel." He enjoys unexpected situations with a positive attitude.

Ishiro Meita: He's an "informant" who's skilled in intelligence gathering. He's a calm and attentive person who always considers the risks. He puts his full trust in Taiya, and lends his support to whatever he decides.

Mira Shifuto: She's a "driver" who's good at driving and maneuvering. After meeting Taiya, she starts to show her inner strength. She's the innocent mood maker of the Boonboomgers.

Jou Akuse: He's a "police man" who's excessively serious and reckless. He's a kind hearted police officer loved by the people of the town, and usually patrols it on his bicycle.

Genba Bureki: He's a "procurer" who procures what he needs from out of nowhere. While soft spoken and kind, he never shows his true feelings.

Bundorio Bunderas: Also known as Boonboom. He's a car shaped alien, who's usually humanoid and human sized, but when the time comes, he transforms into a giant and fights as the Boonboomgers Robo! _

-What I have in common with Taiya is our strong sense of commitment!-

"Please tell us your impressions of Taiya and what you're mindful of when acting."

Iuchi: Compared to the other characters, he seems to have more optimism, so I thought about how I should express that. When it comes to keeping his passionate heart to himself, if I'm too cool, he'll resemble Chasshiro (Ishiro), but if I show it too much, he'll come off as hot blooded, so I was wondering how to find the right balance. For example, regarding the relationship between Taiya and Chasshiro, I looked for references from my favorite anime and other sources to solidify his image.

"What do you think are some similarities between yourself and Taiya, and conversely, what do you not have in common?"

Iuchi: I think we're similar in that we have a strong sense of commitment for what we do, and that we focus on what we love! I always used to be called stubborn. Once I've made up my mind, I can't think about anything else. What we don't have in common is everything else (laughs). I can't develop or modify anything, and I'm pretty indecisive. I feel like I'm the same as Taiya in that I put all my energy into what I like to do.

"What do you think of the visuals when Taiya transforms into BoonRed?"

Iuchi: The other members have also said this, but the impact of the tires being on the face was amazing at first (laughs). However, when I saw them in action, I slowly began to think, "They're super cool!" Not just BoonRed, but seeing all the Boonboomgers actually moving is really cool. During the dub, you can put your personality into your voice, but that being said, if you don't do it well, it'll end up being mismatched. We're getting some great action, so I want to do my best to make the most of it.

"What are your impressions of the mechs, such as the Boonboom Trailer that BoonRed rides in?"

Iuchi: When I first saw it, it brought back memories from my childhood. My father loved foreign cars, and we had alot of model cars displayed in our house. He bought me alot of miniature cars, and I used to play with them by driving them on the carpet with roads drawn on it. So, I felt nostalgic and alittle happy.

"Please tell us what you remember from filming of the first episode."

Iuchi: The first episode focused on Mira, and although she had her own thoughts and feelings, she was being pushed around……as Taiya said, she wasn't able to "take control of her own wheel." The look and feel of the scene where Mira expresses her determination and passion to Taiya left a strong impression on me. Also, the line, "Whatever you ask me to do, I'll deliver it. That's what a deliverer does." I thought it was an important line for Taiya, where the word "deliverer" is used, so I was very enthusiastic about it.

"For scenes involving Taiya, the relationship between him and Ishiro also leaves an impression."

Iuchi: Even before filming, Hayama Yuki-kun, who plays Chasshiro, and I discussed things like, "What's the relationship between the two of them?" and "How should we go about this?" I'd be happy if we're able to give off the feeling that those two are a pair.

"Other than Taiya, which character are you interested in?"

Iuchi: It's Genba! He's very mysterious, and the vibe he and his outfit gives off is kinda different, huh? I still don't know how Taiya and Genba will meet, but I'm looking forward to seeing how Genba's encounter with the other three will balance things out. He seems like a very appealing character.

"Finally, tell us some future highlights."

Iuchi: Episode 2 is about Mira and Chasshiro, and the line, "Boonboomger is connected to my and Boonboom's dreams" is said. These words are connected to the reason why Taiya is gathering these friends, and I think that everyone's pasts will also be depicted from now on. I'd be happy if you pay attention to it.

"Taiya himself also has a mysterious side."

Iuchi: I guess so, there are still alot of things I don't understand (laughs). We'll be gathering more and more friends from now on, so please look forward to it! _

Q: What's your favorite anime/manga?

Iuchi: Due to the influence of my parents, I've always loved manga! We had alot of manga at home, which led me to watch various anime. In particular, my favorite manga is "Fullmetal Alchemist," which I've reread countless times, and have also watched the anime.

[rootedinrevisions]

Through the Wreckage

SUMMARY: When a devastating tornado tears through town, Tyler Owens faces his worst nightmare: the woman he loves is missing. Tyler is thrust into a desperate search through the wreckage to find her. As the storm's aftermath unfolds, it forces him to confront his fears, regrets, and hopes for the future.

A/N: So got inspired for this after watching Twisters earlier today. Just the anguish that we saw from Tyler when he realized Kate was driving into the tornado made me wonder what would happen if the person he loved was missing or in danger. Hence where we ended up here.

WARNINGS: Destruction (ie: a tornado hit so damaged buildings, smoke, dust, sparks, etc.), Blood, Minor Injuries.

WORD COUNT: 3.6k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

WWE/Wrestling: Cody Rhodes, Corey Graves, Damian Priest, Drew McIntyre, Finn Balor, Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Kevin Owens, L.A. Knight, Pat McAfee, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins (if there is someone you're thinking of from WWE and they aren't on the list feel free to ask! There are so many guys on the roster that these were the ones that came to mind.)

The tires screeched as Tyler pulled up to the scene, gravel crunching beneath his truck. He barely shifted into park before throwing the door open and jumping out. His boots hit the ground with a thud, and the first thing his eyes locked on was the building—partially collapsed, its front wall completely gone. The inside was exposed like a broken shell, with beams hanging at jagged angles and smoke or dust curling into the air from where drywall and bricks had crumbled. His heart sank like a stone in his chest. This wasn’t good.

Behind him, Boone’s truck came to a stop, followed by Dani, Dexter, and Lily piling out of their vehicles. Tyler barely registered the sound of their voices calling his name as they ran toward him. His world had narrowed to the destruction in front of him, and one thought pounded in his mind: She’s in there.

Pulling his phone from his pocket with shaking hands, Tyler checked the last location pinged from your phone. His stomach twisted. It matched this address. He swallowed hard, the weight of dread pressing down on him as his eyes scanned the crowd of people that had been pulled from the building and huddled together on the other side of the street. His pulse quickened as he searched for you, desperate for even a glimpse of your face. But you weren’t there.

“Tyler, man, slow down,” Boone said, gripping his shoulder as he came up beside him. “Let’s figure out what’s going on—”

“She’s not out here,” Tyler cut him off, his voice tight and raw. “She’s not with them.” He gestured toward the crowd of people being tended to by paramedics. 

His chest heaved as the realization hit him like a freight train: You were still inside.

Without another word, he turned and made a beeline toward the first responders standing near the edge of the debris. His strides were long and determined, his jaw set in grim determination as he ignored Boone’s calls to slow down. 

The closer he got, the more chaos surrounded him. The air smelled of smoke and damp concrete, and the sound of crackling debris mixed with shouts from firefighters. But none of it mattered.

“Did everyone get out?” Tyler shouted, his voice hoarse as he reached the nearest firefighter. “Did you see a woman—about this tall, light hair?” He motioned frantically, his green eyes darting around. 

He already knew the answer from their hesitant expressions, but he refused to accept it.

“Sir,” one of them started, stepping forward, “it’s not safe—we weren’t able to get to everyone.”

“Where. Is. She?” Tyler growled, his frustration boiling over. His voice cracked, raw with fear and desperation. “Her phone’s still pinging from here! I need to know if she made it out!”

Another firefighter shook his head grimly. “We’re still doing sweeps, but the building’s unstable. Most of the front wall came down in the collapse. We can’t risk—”

“Bullshit!” Tyler snapped, cutting him off as he took a step toward the wreckage.

Boone and Dexter were on him in an instant, grabbing his arms to hold him back.

“Tyler, don’t,” Boone urged, his voice low and firm. “You can’t go in there, man. It’s not safe. They’ll handle it.”

“She’s in there!” Tyler shouted, wrenching free from their grip. His voice cracked as he pointed toward the ruined building. “I know she is, Boone! I’m not waiting around while they do their sweeps!” His voice was shaking now, and for a moment, the raw emotion broke through his resolve. His chest heaved, his shoulders trembling as he ran a hand over his face, trying to block out the fear clawing at his mind.

The building groaned, a deep, unsettling sound that warned of further collapse. Tyler’s eyes darted toward it, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms. 

If you were inside, he wasn’t about to stand by and let the clock run out.

“I’m going in,” he muttered under his breath, and before anyone could stop him, he broke into a sprint toward the wreckage.

“Sir! Stop! You can’t go in there!” a firefighter yelled, his voice sharp with authority.

Another called out, “It’s too dangerous! The structure’s not stable!”

But Tyler didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow down. The sound of boots pounding behind him told him Boone or Dexter was probably trying to catch him, but he didn’t care. All he could see was the shattered entrance ahead, the gaping maw of destruction that had swallowed you whole.

As he crossed the threshold, the air inside hit him like a wall—thick with dust and smoke, making it hard to breathe. He pulled his shirt up over his nose and mouth, squinting to see through the haze. The floor was littered with debris—chunks of drywall, splintered wood, and jagged shards of glass. Wires hung loose from the ceiling, some sparking as they dangled.

The creak of shifting metal echoed through the space, and Tyler froze for a moment, his eyes darting upward. A beam groaned overhead, threatening to give way. He clenched his jaw and forced himself to move, stepping carefully over a fallen section of wall.

“Darlin’,” he shouted, his voice hoarse and strained. “Where are you?”

His heart pounded in his chest as he scanned the wreckage, his eyes darting from one pile of debris to the next. The oppressive silence was broken only by the occasional crackle of sparks or the distant shouts of first responders outside.

“Come on, darlin’. Give me something,” he muttered under his breath, his voice trembling. He tried to focus, to ignore the dread clawing at the edges of his mind.

Tyler’s boot crunched on something, and he looked down to see a broken picture frame, the glass shattered across the floor. Around it were scattered papers, children’s drawings, and a few books covered in dust. He swallowed hard, the small remnants of normal life a stark contrast to the chaos surrounding him.

Pushing forward, he weaved through the destruction, stepping over overturned chairs and avoiding the sharp edges of broken furniture. The air grew hotter the deeper he went, the faint smell of something burning making his stomach churn.

And then he saw it.

A shoe.

Tyler’s breath caught in his throat as he recognized it—your shoe, half-buried beneath a pile of rubble. He stumbled forward, dropping to his knees as his shaking hands reached for it.

“Sweetheart?” he called, his voice breaking. He tossed aside chunks of drywall and splintered wood, the sharp edges cutting into his palms. Blood smeared across the debris as he worked, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was getting to you.

Finally, he uncovered your leg, and his heart seized. You were pinned beneath the debris, your body motionless. Dust and grime streaked your face, and your hair was tangled with bits of plaster.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice trembling as he reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face. His fingers were gentle, but his hands shook uncontrollably.

Leaning closer, he pressed his fingers to the side of your neck, searching desperately for a pulse. For a moment, time seemed to stand still. And then he felt it—a faint, fragile beat beneath his fingertips.

Relief flooded him, and a choked sob escaped his lips. 

“Thank God,” he breathed. “I’ve got you, darlin’. You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

At the sound of his voice, you stirred faintly, your head shifting against the debris that cradled it. The faintest groan escaped your lips, so quiet he almost missed it. Tyler froze, his heart skipping a beat as his eyes shot to your face.

“Darlin’?” He said, his voice trembling with equal parts hope and fear. He cupped your face with one dirt-streaked hand, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “Hey, hey, it’s me. Can you hear me, sweetheart?”

Your brow furrowed slightly, and your lips moved, though no sound came out at first. He leaned closer, his ear inches from your face.

“Ty...” The broken syllable fell from your lips like a lifeline, and his chest ached at the sound of it.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

Your eyes fluttered weakly, just barely cracking open, but it was enough. Enough to send relief crashing over him in a wave so powerful it left him dizzy.

“Oh, thank God,” he murmured, his hand sliding down to grip yours. He squeezed it gently, willing his strength into you. “Stay with me. Keep those eyes on me, okay? You’re gonna be fine. I promise.”

You tried to say something else, your voice a faint whisper he couldn’t quite make out. He shook his head, tears pricking his eyes as he crouched lower to meet your gaze.

“Don’t try to talk,” he urged softly. “Just save your strength, darlin’. I’m getting you out of here. Just stay with me, okay? That’s all I need you to do. Stay with me.”

The faintest flicker of a nod came from you, but it was enough to shatter the fragile composure he’d been clinging to. His free hand pressed to his mouth as he choked back a sob, his chest heaving with the weight of his fear and relief.

The building groaned again, a deep, ominous sound that sent a shiver down his spine. He knew he didn’t have much time. He slid his arms beneath you, cradling you against his chest as he stood.

With you in his arms, Tyler turned toward the exit, his focus unwavering despite the chaos around him. All that mattered was getting you out of here alive.

Tyler adjusted his grip on you, holding you closer as he stepped carefully over the uneven ground. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

The air inside the building was suffocating. Smoke and dust hung thick like a heavy fog, clawing at his lungs with every breath. His throat burned, and each inhale felt like dragging sandpaper across raw skin. He coughed, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before forcing them open again. He couldn’t lose focus—not now.

Sparks rained down from a severed electrical wire overhead, the sharp sting biting into the exposed skin of his arms. He flinched, gritting his teeth as the acrid smell of singed fabric filled the air. 

“Stay with me, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice rough and desperate as he looked down at you. “We’re almost out of here.”

Your body shifted slightly in his arms, and a soft, raspy cough escaped your lips. Tyler’s heart jumped at the sound. Panic surged through him, as he saw how shallow your breathing was.

“You still with me?” He called, his voice cracking. “Hey, can you hear me? Talk to me, sweetheart.”

You coughed again, your eyelids fluttering briefly but not opening. A weak, almost inaudible groan escaped you.

“That’s it,” Tyler said, his tone urgent but soft like he was coaxing you back to him. “You’re doing good. Just keep breathing for me, okay? We’re getting out of here.”

He stumbled slightly as the ground beneath him shifted—a section of flooring sagging under the weight of the debris. Tyler’s knees buckled for a moment, and he tightened his grip on you, his heart racing.

“Dammit,” he muttered, steadying himself before pressing forward.

The building groaned around him, the sound of metal twisting and concrete cracking growing louder. He could feel time running out.

Another section of ceiling collapsed behind him, sending a fresh plume of dust into the air. Tyler ducked instinctively, shielding you as debris rained down. A sharp edge grazed the back of his neck, and he winced, but he didn’t stop moving.

The exit was just ahead—a faint sliver of light visible through the haze. Tyler pushed toward it, his legs trembling with exertion. His vision blurred, black spots dancing at the edges as the lack of clean air began to take its toll.

His steps faltered, and he coughed violently, nearly doubling over. For a moment, he thought his legs might give out, but then he felt a small, trembling hand against his chest. Your hand gripped weakly at his shirt, your head lolling slightly against his shoulder.

“T-Tyler...” you rasped, your voice barely audible. 

His breath hitched, and he forced himself to keep moving. 

“I’m here,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “I’ve got you, darlin’. Just hang on.”

The exit grew closer, but the smoke thickened, clawing at his throat and lungs. Tyler stumbled again, his knees hitting the floor as his body screamed for oxygen.

“No,” he growled, shaking his head as he clutched you tighter. He gritted his teeth and pushed himself back to his feet, ignoring the way his legs trembled beneath him.

The light from the exit grew brighter, and he could hear the distant shouts of first responders outside. They sounded muffled like he was underwater, but it gave him just enough hope to keep going.

Sparks rained down again, burning his exposed arms and neck, but Tyler turned his body to shield you, hunching over as he pushed through the final stretch. His back felt like it was on fire, the fabric of his shirt sticking to blistering skin, but he didn’t slow down.

Finally, he broke through the haze, stumbling out onto the pavement. The fresh air hit him like a punch to the chest, and he gasped, his knees giving out as he sank to the ground.

“Help! Somebody—” he coughed violently, his voice raw and barely audible. “Somebody help her!”

Paramedics rushed toward him, but Tyler’s focus was on you. Your face was pale, streaked with dust and sweat, but your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. He reached up to brush a trembling hand against your cheek, his fingers stained with soot and blood.

“Stay with me, sweetheart. You’re safe now.” He whispered, his voice cracking as tears welled in his eyes. 

Tyler cradled you in his arms, his knees rooted to the pavement as the chaos of the world around him blurred into background noise. His only focus was you.

Your head lolled weakly against his chest, and your breaths were growing more shallow and uneven by the minute. A fresh wave of panic crashed over him as your eyelids fluttered, threatening to close.

“Hey,” he called softly, his voice trembling. “No, no, darlin’, stay with me. Look at me.”

Your eyes opened slightly, your gaze unfocused as you struggled to lift your head.

“I… can’t,” you murmured, the words barely audible.

“Yes, you can,” he said, his tone firm but full of emotion. “You’re not quittin’ on me now, you hear me?”

You coughed softly, your body trembling in his arms. Tyler adjusted his grip, pulling you closer as if he could shield you from the pain and the fear.

“We have plans, remember?” His voice cracked as he spoke, tears welling in his eyes. “Dinner tonight, just you and me. You told me you wanted to get dressed up, and said I needed to wear that tie you like. I’m not lettin’ you out of that, sweetheart. You still owe me a dance.”

A weak smile tugged at the corners of your lips, but it quickly faded as your eyelids grew heavier.

“And the church,” he continued, desperation lacing his words. “The little church your parents got married in. We’ll get married there, just like you’ve always wanted. You can wear that lace dress you talked about, the one you saw at the boutique last spring.”

You made a small sound, something between a laugh and a sob, and your fingers twitched weakly against his chest.

“And kids,” Tyler added, his voice breaking completely now. “Two–hell, however many you want. We’ll give ‘em the best damn life, I promise you that. Just… just stay with me, darlin’. Please.”

Your eyes fluttered open again, glassy but fixed on him.

“Three or four?” you rasped, a faint hint of amusement in your tone.

Tyler let out a shaky laugh, relief washing over him like a flood. He cupped your face gently, his thumb brushing away a smudge of dirt from your cheek.

“Yeah, three or four is perfect, darlin’,,” he said, his forehead pressing against yours as his tears mingled with the soot on his face. “Whatever you want, sweetheart. Just tell me the names you’ve got picked out, and I’ll make it happen.”

You gave a weak, tired smile, and he could feel the slight rise and fall of your chest against his. But your body still felt too limp, too fragile in his arms.

“Don’t you dare close those eyes again,” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “Stay with me, sweetheart. Stay with me.”

Your gaze flickered once more, but before he could plead again, the paramedics swarmed around you.

“Sir, we need to take her now,” one of them said urgently, but Tyler’s arms tightened instinctively around you.

“I’m not leavin’ her,” he said fiercely, his eyes wild as he looked up at them.

“We need space to help her,” the paramedic insisted, their tone gentle but firm.

Tyler hesitated, his heart warring with his head as he realized he had no choice. He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead.

“You hang on, you hear me?” he whispered, his voice shaking.

Reluctantly, he let them take you from his arms, his hands trembling as he watched them load you onto the stretcher. His heart clenched painfully as he saw your pale, dust-streaked face disappear behind the blur of paramedics working to save you.

* * * *

The waiting room of the hospital felt like a void. Time moved differently here, stretching out each second into an eternity. Tyler sat hunched over in a plastic chair, his forearms resting on his knees, his hands clasped tightly together. Boone, Dani, Dexter, and Lily sat nearby, their voices low and subdued as they tried to offer support. But Tyler didn’t hear them. His mind was stuck in the chaos of the collapsed building, the sound of your ragged breaths, the weight of your fragile body in his arms.

He stared at the double doors down the hallway, willing someone to come through them with news. Good news. Any news. His burned skin throbbed beneath the bandages the ER nurses had wrapped around him, but he didn’t care. The only pain that mattered was the fear clawing at his chest. The fear of losing you.

“T,” Boone said quietly, resting a hand on his shoulder. “She’s strong. She’s gonna pull through.”

Tyler nodded absently, his throat too tight to respond. He wanted to believe Boone, but the image of you lying so still, your face pale and streaked with dust, was seared into his mind.

The doors finally swung open, and a doctor stepped into the waiting room. Tyler shot to his feet, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Tyler Owens?” the doctor asked, glancing around the room.

“That’s me,” he said, his voice hoarse.

The doctor smiled softly, and Tyler’s knees nearly buckled with relief.

“She’s stable,” the doctor said. “She inhaled a lot of smoke, and there’s some bruising from the debris, but no major injuries. She’s going to be okay.”

Tyler exhaled a shaky breath, his hands dragging down his face as the weight of the world lifted off his shoulders.

“Can I see her?” Tyler asked, his voice cracking.

“Of course,” the doctor replied. “She’s awake, but she’s still weak. Try to keep it short for now.”

Tyler nodded, barely hearing the last part as he followed the doctor down the hallway. His boots echoed on the tile floor, the sound somehow both grounding and surreal.

When he stepped into your room, his chest tightened at the sight of you. You were propped up in the hospital bed, an oxygen mask resting lightly over your nose and mouth. The faint beeping of the monitors was a comforting reminder that you were still here, still breathing.

Your eyes fluttered open when you heard him, and despite the exhaustion etched into your face, you managed a small smile.

“Hey, cowboy,” you whispered, your voice muffled by the mask.

Tyler’s lips curved into a smile, and he pulled a chair up to your bedside, sitting down with a sigh of relief. He reached for your hand, his fingers curling gently around yours.

“You scared the hell outta me,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Don’t ever do that again, you hear me?”

“I’ll try,” you teased weakly, your fingers giving his hand the faintest squeeze.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Tyler’s thumb brushed over your knuckles, his eyes drinking in the sight of you as if to convince himself you were really okay.

“I meant what I said out there,” he finally murmured, his gaze locking with yours.

You frowned slightly in confusion. “What part?”

“All of it,” he said. “The church, the kids, everything. I want it all with you, darlin’. I want to marry you, and I’ll wear whatever you tell me to.”

You laughed softly, the sound raspy but real, and Tyler’s heart swelled.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you said, your smile softening as tears welled in your eyes. “I want it all too, Tyler. I always have.”

Tyler leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Then let’s start with dinner,” he said. “Soon as you’re out of here, I’m takin’ you to the nicest place in town. No storms, no distractions, just you and me.”

Your fingers tightened around his as you nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks. “Deal. Can we have Italian?”

For the first time in hours, Tyler let himself relax, a small smile playing on his lips as he whispered, “Sure, sweetheart. Anything you want.”

[nikkirando]

I have an oc that has had a brush with death by tornado. Tyler was there and got her on his team, since her team died in said storm. What if they got separated during a tornado and Tyler has been worried about finding her because he cares for her and sees her as a good luck charm. I was thinking she would be someone in the rubble trying to help people despite being injured. Can you please write this no one else will?

One Last Dance

Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader

summery; Pretty much the request

Warning: Blood, Language, Use of Y/N, Backstory of the reader (you), trauma, some mention of death, Let me know if I missed anything, and this is my first twister fic so it might suck,

5 years ago on this day...the day I wish I could forget but it's stuck in my mind forever. Every night and day ever since then. I sighed as I looked at the picture before setting the picture on the dresser and leaning back on the bed of the rundown hotel. As you slowly doze off, you hear it all over again.

"Come on Y/N! Don't be boring it will be fun!" Addy said with a smile "Ya come on," said Kate you sighed "Fine but only this once!" you said as the group cheered and you laughed "Well better start going? don't wanna miss a beauty" Said Javi as everyone got in their cars to go look for the big tornado.

You hear the door to your and Tyler's hotel room open. Your eyes quickly opened and look at the door and there he stood your famous cowboy. You smiled at him "Hey sweetheart did I wake ya?" he asked "No u didn't" you said. He takes off his hat and sets it on the chair before walking over to you and giving you a small peck on your lips "Ok but get sleep me you and the gang are gonna go to town tomorrow," he said as you whined "But-" "No buts" he cuts you off "I'm going to show then I'll join you," he said before kissing you again "Fine" you pout before watching him walk off to the bathroom.

You limp while holding your arm as you sob and look around you. Everything was destroyed all around you. You wrap your arm gently around Kate as she is limping with a big gash on your leg. "K-Kate...?" You said but no response. As you guys kept walking on the road limping, you heard sirens in the silence between you two. You look ahead and there they were.

Your alarm clock starts going off as you groan and sit up and look at your boyfriend who is already changed and ready to go. "Good morning sunshine~!" he yelled happily "You ready to come into town ?" He asked but something felt off telling you not to go and not the group to go and you should have trusted your gut "Sure!" you said before standing up "Gonna get changed first" you said as your boyfriend nodded "I'll be by the truck!" he said before walking out.

As you get dressed you walk out and walk to the truck. "There she is!" yelled Boone as he got in and you chuckled and got in as well as everyone else. The drive to town was short while Boone kept talking the most and making the dumbest jokes you find yourself laughing at. As Tyler parked it started to sprinkle a little then slowly turned more heavy as you looked up at the sky while getting out. It was like Deja Vu.

The more you guys were out the more heavy the rain and wind got. I looked up at the cloudy sky as my stomach started to twist around making me feel nauseous I looked at Tyler he also had a slight discomfort on his face like we were thinking the same thing. I grabbed his hand as we kept checking out the shops but my gut still told me to get out of there I was trying to push that feeling away...until the tornado warning happened on our phones.

Everyone around checked their phones before starting to freak out and rush to get somewhere to safety as everyone was pushing everyone acting like it was every man for themselves. Well, It kinda was. Tyler grabs your hand quickly as he pulls u away to another building "Stay here!" Tyler yelled at u as he started helping people into the same building. "Tyler hurry!" you yelled as he ran back and shut the door. "This place isn't gonna hold!" one of the stranger yells as he starts to freak out "We are gonna be ok!" Tyler says as he looks at everyone "Grab onto something!" he says as everyone follows what he says.

Just then the roof started to break in as everyone screamed and covered themselves as the roof kept breaking in. Just then the roof collapsed as everyone ran to find a new place to hide before almost (and some) getting sucked up by the tornado "Tyler!?" you yelled still grabbing onto a pole but no response "Tyler?!" you sobbed as you grab on tighter to the pole.

"Praveen!!" You yelled as he got sucked up as you, Jeb, Abby, and Kate kept running as you were sobbing. Something metal hit your arm cutting it deeply as you tripped and fell into a ditch where you curled up into a ball sobbing. In the distance, you heard screaming and wind. Slowly start to calm down after what feels like forever as you slowly peek out and look around at the destruction.

"Tyler!" you sobbed as you didn't see him. Slowly but surely the winds calmed down as well as the tornado. You let go of the pole slowly you look at your hands as they are shakey as you stand up slowly. "Tyler..?" you said hopefully but no response or sign. "Where...where did you go..?" you sobbed as you walked out and looked at the mess of the town and everyone was coming out of the building. "Y/N you ok!" yelled Lily as she ran to you and hugged you tightly you slowly nodded at her "Let me go get you some water," she said before running off quickly.

You sobbed more as there was no sign of Tyler 'W-What if he's dead' you thought to yourself freaking out as you kept looking and walking around "Ty" you said before starting to run around town "T-Tyler!" you yelled for him but no answer. "Omg..no...please no," you said sobbing and covering your mouth. it wasn't until someone wrapped their arms around your waist "Sweetheart what wrong ya hurt?" he said maybe you spin on your heel to see that cocky smile of Tyler. You sigh and hugged him you were happy before turning angry "You asshole! I thought you were dead!" you said hitting his chest multiple times.

"Woah woah calm down I'm still here," He said pulling you for another hug as you started to sob again and hug him tightly "I was scared you died.." you said "I'm sorry sweetheart," he said and he rubbed your back gently as to comfort you. As you start to calm down he says "Come on let's take you to the truck ok? You can relax in there and where I know you will be safe" he kisses you gently and you kiss back and walk with him to his truck.

I hope it's good! Lmkkkk please with is my first Tyler Owens fic hehehe @multifandomgirl12

[mama2bears]

The Storm Of Life - Part 1

Warnings: mention of death (no main characters), tornado

Pairing: Tyler Owens/ F. Reader

Summary: You are a single mother, currently sleeping in your car and trapped in the path of a tornado when Tyler finds you. He will go above and beyond to help you put the broken pieces back together again.

A/N: I had this idea and so far it has been really easy to write. Please let me know what you think. I was thinking of just doing little chapters and maybe do a slow burn relationship? Let me know what you think and if you want to see more. I am still new at writing fan fiction, so I love your feedback! Thank you for reading.

Part 1

“THERE IT IS!” Boone pointed out the funnel, “Seems to be heading east.”

“I got it.” Tyler made a sharp right turn on the next road. The tornado was a big one and it was heading directly towards them.

“WOO!!!” Boone hanged out the window with the video rolling, “Are you guys seeing this!” he yelled for all of the YouTube followers.

“What the hell...” Tyler slammed on the brakes and Boone almost went flying.

“What the..” then Boone seen it.. A small car parked on the side of the road, hood up, smoke coming from under the hood and in the direct path of the oncoming tornado.

“HEY! You gotta get out of there! You okay?” Tyler yelled.

He saw you in the driver's seat and clearly you had been crying. You had your young son and daughter in the back.

In an instant Tyler was out of the truck, “Come on, get in my truck!” he yelled over the roaring winds. He ripped open the back door and grabbed your son while Boone ran to the other side of the car to get your daughter.

Tyler helped you in the the backseat of the truck and handed you the children, 'We gotta go!”

“LULU! My LULU!” your little girl cried.

“Honey we can't...” you say softly.

“What's LULU?” Tyler asked.

“Her stuffed bear.” you say

Tyler ran back to the car and grabbed the stuffed animal off the back seat.

“Here sweetie. We can't leave LULU behind.” he handed the animal back to your daughter and hit a button on the center console of his truck.

“What are you doing? The tornado is here!” you scream.

“I know...put those harnesses on and hold on. We don't have time to outrun it now. I've anchored the truck, we will be okay.” Tyler turned around in his seat to make sure everyone was getting seat belts and harnesses on before he slipped his own harness on.

The truck shook as the twister passed right though them. There was a loud bang outside the window and your son cried “Our car mommy! Our car is gone!”

“We're okay!” Tyler yelled in hopes of comforting them. “It's okay...tornado is passing...it's okay.”

As quick as it got started, the tornado was gone and blue skies began to appear.

Tyler turned around to speak to you and his heart broke, seeing you and your kids in tears, “Hey, hey....it's okay. I'll see if I can find your car. We'll take photos for the insurance. They'll help you get another one. In the meantime I'll give you a ride home.” he tried to comfort you.

“That car was our home. Now I really have nothing.” you cried.

Tyler sighed and his eyes meant Boone's. He knew he had to help you, but he wasn't sure how just yet.

“It's going to be okay.” Tyler opened his door. “You guys stay here. There's a lot of debris out there and I don't want anyone getting hurt. I'll go see how bad it is.”

“I am scared mommy.” Your daughter cried. Your son was looking out the window crying. Boone turned around and saw you trying your best to dry your tears and comfort the kids. He wasn't great with kids, he didn't really have any experience, but he had to try something. It was breaking his heart to see you all so scared.

“Hey...who want's some ice cream? There's a little shop right up the road.” he gave a soft smile.

The kids crying stopped. “ME! ME! ME!” came happy yells from the backseat. Boone grinned, satisfied that he had made the kids happy, at least for a moment.

Tyler returned, a heartbroken look on his face. He got in the truck and turns to the back to look at you, “Sorry miss...the car is totaled. It's wrapped around a tree back there. I grabbed some clothes and toys I found and I've put them in the back of my truck for you.

“ICE CREAM! ICE CREAM!” the children in the back were still chanting, despite you trying to calm them down and fighting back tears.

Tyler frowned, a bit confused on why the kids were cheering for ice cream.

“We gotta go get ice cream!” Boone grinned at Tyler, “And you're buying.”

“Who's idea was this?” Tyler asked the kids with a small smile.

“HIS!!!” Both kids pointed at Boone, who tried to put on an innocent face.

“Alright...Ice Cream it is.” he smiled, keying up the radio to let the rest of the team know, “We're making a emergency ice cream stop in town.”

“A what?” Lily asked.

“Just meet us at the ice cream parlor in town.” Tyler said before starting the truck and heading towards town.

“I'm Tyler by the way. This is my buddy Boone.” he said, “We're storm chasers. I am glad we came by when we did. What you doing out here?”

“I was heading into town to see about finding a new baby sitter. My old one just quite and and I can't afford to lose my job. But now I don't know what I am going to do.” you turned your head to look out the window so your kids couldn't see the tears run down your cheek.

“Hey hey now...it'll be okay...What's your name?” Tyler asked.

“I am Y/N. This is my son Billy and my daughter Harley.” you say.

“Hi Billy and Harley!” Tyler smiled, “How old are you guys?”

The kids were silent as they looked at Tyler and back to their mom, “Harley just turned 3 and Billy is 4.” you tell him.

“Four and a half.” Billy corrects. “I four and a half.”

“Four and a half.” Tyler nods and flashes you a grin, “Get it right Mom! He's four and a half.”

You give him a grateful smile as he pulls the truck into the local ice cream shop. Thankfully the twister had touched down outside of town and died out before reaching it.

Tyler opens the door for you and lifts both kids out. “This is a big truck! I love trucks!” Billy smiled.

“Really?” Boone said as Tyler opened the door for everyone, “You know T here shoots fireworks off the back of his truck.”

“REALLY!” Billy's eyes light up.

“Really,” Tyler said. “Hey, maybe later I'll let you hit the button that makes them go BOOM!”

“YAY!” Billy cheered.

“What about you, Harley?” Tyler looked at her, “You wanna shoot off fireworks too?”

She nodded, biting at her figure nails.

“She's really shy...until she gets to know you. Once she knows you, she'll be stuck to you like glue.” you say as your daughter wraps her little arms around your leg.

Tyler gives you both a smile just as the rest of the team arrived.

“Ah, here's my team! This is Lily, she operates our drone.”

“You got a DRONE too! Can we set fireworks off of THAT!”

Everyone laughs and Tyler shakes his head no, “Sorry little man. Can't set fireworks off the drone, but we can look on a screen and see some really cool videos. It will be almost like you're a bird flying.”

“COOL! I am a eagle!” Billy yells, pretending to fly around the ice cream shop.

“Billy, stop that and come here.” you scold, to which he comes over and stands next to you.

“This is Dexter. He's our scientist and weather watcher. He helps Dani with our merchandise sales.” Tyler points to Dani, “And that's Dani...she's scientist, sales, YouTube, photo taker, you name it, she does it.”

“Everyone, this is Y/N and her two little ones, Billy and Harley. Their car just got wrapped around a tree by the tornado so, we're helping them out.”

“Oh my God, are you guys okay?” Lily asked.

“Yes, Tyler got us into his truck just in time. Thank God he got there.” You were shaking, realizing just how close you and the kids came to losing your life.

“Hey, it's okay now. Don't worry.” Tyler gave you a small hug, “So, what is everyone having?”

“Chocolate.” Dani ordered, “Strawberry” came Dexter's order, “Rocky road” Lily chimed in.

“Banana Split” Boone said, “And T said he's paying for it!” he informed the team.

You and the kids are looking at the many different ice cream flavors when Tyler walks up behind you, “Know what you guys want?” he asks softly.

“Bent Socket Rip.” Harley smiles.

Tyler frowns for a moment, then catches on, “Mint Chocolate Chip, right?”

Harley nods with a smile.

“Mint chocolate chip for me too!” Billy adds.

“And what about for mom here?” he asks.

“Chocolate will be fine. “ you smile.

“Coming right up.”

Everyone gets their orders placed and takes a seat around one of the tables.

“So you're storm chasers...you do this for a living?” you ask.

“Yes..and because it's fun.” Tyler smiles. “We do this to collect data for varies weather teams and to try to approve the warning time for these storms. We go into towns and help out after a tornado. I enjoy my work, even if it's dangerous. I respect the storm, but I try to have fun with it too, that way other people will want to learn more about thunderstorms and tornadoes and maybe learn how to be safe in them.

“What do you do?” he asks.

“I am a waitress at the diner here in town. Or I should say used to be. If I don't find a sitter by tomorrow then I am fired. And now I don't even have a car...so. I don't know. If it's not one thing it's something else.” you shake your head and try to hold back the tears that want to fall.

“We'll figure something out.” Tyler promised. “I am not just going to leave you stranded.” he bite his bottom lip trying to think.

“Hey guys, once you all are done with your ice cream, why don't you take the kids out and show them all the cool stuff we've got.” Tyler told the team.

“Can I see the fireworks!” Billy asked.

Tyler laughed, “Not yet, buddy. No shooting off fireworks in the parking lot. But maybe we'll go off into a field later and fire some off.”

“YAY! BOOM BOOM!” Billy's eyes light up with excitement.

“Thank you.” You give a small smile to this guy who just happened to stop and pluck you and the kids out of a tornado's path, and now he was going out of his way to make the kids happy and try to keep their mind off of the serious of the situation.

Once the kids were done with their ice cream the team lead them out to explore all three of their vehicles and the equipment that made storm chasing possible.

“Do you have any place to go?” Tyler asked once the kids were outside.

“No...I don't even know anyone.” you turn your head away as tears rolled down your cheeks.

“Hey, it's okay.” Tyler's voice was kind and gentle, “you know me and the team..that's something.” he placed a hand on your shoulder to comfort. “How about the kid's father? Is he in the picture?”

“No. He was killed three years ago in a tornado. Him and my parents. He went to get my parents from their house because they didn't have a storm cellar and we did. They were killed on the way back to our farm. The tornado blew the truck off the road.” you broke down in tears remembering that awful day. “Harley had just be born...”

“I am sorry.” Tyler pulled you into a hug. “No family or anything around?”

You shook your head, “My parents were my only family. His family had passed away before we met.”

Tyler took a deep breath, “Okay, let me make a phone call. I think I might have an idea.”

He stood and walked to the back of the parlor.

“Hey, mom?” he said when she picked up the phone.

“Listen, I have a lady here with two little children. Their car just got destroyed in a tornado. They were living in the car. She has no family and no where to go. That's about all I know right now, but she's gonna need a place to stay and maybe someone to watch the kids. At least for a little while. She's working at a diner here in town.”

“Okay, great. Mom, thank you. I love you too. Bye Bye.”

Tyler was smiling when he returned to the table, “Okay, my mom and I have a ranch about half an hour from here. We have two spare bedrooms and you are welcomed to stay there as long as you need. She even volunteered to watch the kids when you go to work. It's just her and the animals when I am not around, so I am sure she would enjoy some company.”

You smile and hug Tyler, “Thank you, thank you so much.”

“Not a problem.” he smiled. “Wanna go shoot off fireworks on our way?”

You smile, drying your tears, “Actually, that does sound pretty awesome.”

“Hot dog, let's go do it then!” he stood and walked with you to the door, “Who's ready for fireworks!” He yelled as he pushed open the door.

The whole team screamed like kids, making you break out in laughter, for the first time in years. You didn't know what laid ahead, but at least now, you had hope that maybe you could get back on your feet again.

[ddarker-dreams]

Lock, would you please explain the differences in your husband rotation when they're in a "normal state/character" compared to when they exhibit yandere tendencies/ are extremely yandere? I'd love to read your thoughts🖤!

this was such an interesting question that i've been thinking about it all day HGETJNKR

speaking in general terms, even when writing 'non-yandere' versions of the husband rotation, i still make them a lil weird. just a dash of unhinged. what changes depending on if they're yan or not is how willing they are to consciously impede on the reader's wishes for their personal gain. now, getting into specifics...

my take on non-yandere and yan chrollo

there are a lot of little specifics that change depending on the variation of the character i'm writing for, but we'd be here all day if i got into that. so, i'll be focusing on the most prominent differences. regarding mr. lucilfer, i consider the most pertinent changes to be: him divulging his identity to reader and how out of his way he goes to rope reader in.

yan chrollo holds off on revealing that he's the leader of the phantom troupe, but is eventually fine with you finding out. it serves a dual-purpose. first, you're Extra cognizant of the power difference, thwarting any potential shenanigans you might get up to. second, he can unapologetically be himself. non-yandere chrollo's fine expressing his apathy toward the plight of others in small, socially acceptable increments. he's less blunt about it overall because he doesn't want you to drift away from him.

then there's his manipulation of outside variables to scooch you his way. yan chrollo accepts subjecting you to some traumatic things as a 'means to an end,' whereas his non-yandere counterpart values your mental well-being more. thanks king. regardless, they're both going to stalk you to varying extents, utilizing morally ambiguous methods without any guilt. they're also both going to make liberal use of lying by omission.

non-yandere and yan gojo

i am physically incapable of writing gojo being normal toward reader. it'd lack the pièce de résistance. that being said, non-yandere gojo is weird and yan gojo is weird with malicious intent. i'm not sure if that makes any sense, so allow me to elaborate.

they're both not the best with respecting boundaries, although in non-yandere gojo's case, that'd improve slightly with age. i always write reader as having attended high school with him because that's the dynamic i find most intriguing. in both cases, gojo in his teenage years is going to be obnoxious and unapologetic about keeping your eyes on him. non-yandere gojo deviates in his ability to mature by trusting you enough to believe you when you say you're not going anywhere. yandere gojo always has that gnawing fear that he'll end up with no one who can truly understand him if he isn't vigilant.

either way, you're not locked up in some dungeon where you'll never see the light of day, which is a boon. they're both content to let you interact with geto & shoko in your high school years, as well as their students into adulthood. selfish as yan gojo can be, his dream of the next generation usurping the status quo is paramount. he believes your influence too invaluable to deprive his students of. they both complain about how much you dote on megumi though.

non-yandere and yan scara

... ahem. the differences here are less pronounced. a driving factor behind scaramouche's character is his fear of abandonment, along with the resentment from the betrayals he previously experienced. they're both not the easiest people to be in a relationship with (or the healthiest). there's always going to be some level of codependency with non-yandere scaramouche. his yandere variation just cranks that to the highest setting.

the key difference lies within your ability to steer him away from being a weirdo. there's a skill ceiling for yan scaramouche, you can only make it so far. non-yandere scaramouche, on the other hand, has a sliver of hope. it'd require a mind-numbing amount of patience and forgiveness, but it's technically possible. everything comes down to how much you love him at his worst. should you accept him, albeit with some conditions (such as him being more honest with his feelings), he will make a legitimate effort to reform himself.

anything else nets you a bad end. he's emotionally volatile and prone to callousness. it isn't like yan scaramouche wants you to hate him — he's driven by paranoia. compounded by your understandable distaste for his new, restrictive behavior, he ends up saying things he'll later regret. tl;dr scara is eevee and will evolve into a slightly normal partner or yandere depending on your stats.

non-yandere and yan blade

somehow the most normal from this lineup?????? not that that's an achievement, since that bar's in hell, but it's still kinda funny.

unlike the other weirdos on this list, non-yandere blade could come to accept if you loved another. it isn't inconceivable or a reality he'd seek to alter. if anything, non-yandere blade would find your romantic interest in him far more perplexing. he's a jaded, immortal weapon who guiltlessly sheds blood. he knows you deserve better and that you're likable enough to find another partner. said partner would be subject to his scrutiny, but he wouldn't be vehemently opposed.

yandere blade thinks a similar way. what changes is his self-restraint — or lack, thereof. would you be happier with another? yes. can he love you the way you deserve? absolutely not. that doesn't remedy the incessant urge to possess you. you don't even have to like him back, per se, just having you around satisfies him. you quench this hunger that his non-yandere self ignores (with great difficulty).

here's to hoping this makes any sense 😭...

[gingermintpepper]

As usual I read your tags always and so you said Apollo did not ask for resurrection of Asclepius and Hyacinthus so i just wanted to share this. About Asclepius death I read it on theoi.com, that earlier authors don't make him resurrect as a god but that's a later development mentioned only by Roman authors like Cicero, Hyginus and Ovid. But still Apollo has a role in Ovid's version

Ovid, Fasti 6. 735 ff (trans.Boyle) (Roman poetry C1st B.C. to C1st A.D.) : Clymenus [Haides] and Clotho resent the threads of life respun and death's royal rights diminished. Jove [Zeus] feared the precedent and aimed his thunderbolt at the man who employed excessive art. Phoebus [Apollon], you whined. He is a god; smile at your father, who, for your sake, undoes his prohibitions [i.e. when he obtains immortality for Asklepios].

So here it is actually because of Apollo the decision was taken to resurrect him as god. And with Hyacinthus, I don't think I've read about Artemis playing the primary role. I know in Sparta there was a picture of Artemis, Athena and Aphrodite carrying Hyacinthus and his sister to heaven.

This is not on theoi.com but I saw on Tumblr it's from Dionysiaca by Nonnus

Second, my lord Oiagros wove a winding lay, as the father of Orpheus who has the Muse his boon companion. Only a couple of verses he sang, a ditty of Phoibos, clearspoken in few words after some Amyclaian style: Apollo brought to life again his longhaired Hyacinthos: Staphylos will be made to live for aye by Dionysos.

So since he is singing inspired by amyclean stories it probably means in that place it was believed Apollo was the one to bring back his lover to life.

Apollo as god of order was very important so i think it shows how special these people (and admetus too) were to him that he decided to go against the order for them 🥺

ANON!! Shakes you like a bottle of ramune!! BELOVED ANON!!!!! I'm littering your face with kisses, I'm anointing you with olive oil and honey - you absolutely made my night with this because, not only did I get the pure serotonin shot of having someone interact with my tags (yippee, wahoo!!) I also got to have that wonderful feeling of "oh wow, have I misunderstood something that was integral to my understanding of this myth/figure this whole time or is this a case of interpretational differences?" which is imo vital for my aims and interests as someone who enjoys mythological content and literature.

I'll preface my response with this: Hyacinthus is by far the hardest of these to get accounts for because his revival itself, as you very astutely point out, is generally accounted for in painting/ritual format which muddies the waters on who interceded for what. I wasn't actually familiar with that passage from the Argonautica - and certainly didn't remember it so thank you very much for bringing it to my attention!

That said, what I've come to understand, both about Hyacinthus and about Asclepius is that in the accounts of their deaths, Apollo's position is startlingly clear.

For Hyacinthus, it is established time and again that Apollo would have sacrificed everything for him - his status, his power, his very own immortality and divinity. Ovid writes that Apollo would have installed him as a god if only he had the time:

(Ovid. Metamorphoses. Book X. trans. Johnston)

Many other writers too speak of how Apollo abandoned his lyre and his seat at Delphi to spend his days with Hyacinthus, but they also all agree that when it came to his death - he was powerless. Ovid gives that graphic account of Apollo's desperation as he tries all his healing arts to save him to no avail:

(Ovid, Metamorphoses Book X. Apollo me boy, methinks him dead. trans Johnston)

Bion, in one of his fragments, writes that Apollo was "dumb" upon seeing Hyacinthus' agony:

(Bion, The Bucolic Poets. Fragment XI. trans Edmonds)

Even Nonnus in the Dionysiaca speaks constantly of Apollo's helplessness in the face of Hyacinthus' fate where he writes that the god still shivers if a westward wind blows upon an iris:

and when Zephyros breathed through the flowery garden, Apollo turned a quick eye upon his young darling, his yearning never satisfied; if he saw the plant beaten by the breezes, he remembered the quoit, and trembled for fear the wind, so jealous once about the boy, might hate him even in a leaf...

(Nonnus, Dionysiaca, Book 3. trans Rouse)

And the point here is just that - Apollo, at least as far as I've read, cannot avert someone's death. He simply can't. Once they're already dead - once Fate has cut their string - all Apollo's power is gone and he can do nothing no matter how much he wants to. And this is, as far as I know, supported with the accounts of Asclepius as well!

Since you specifically brought up Ovid's account, I'll also stick only to Ovid's account but in Metamorphoses when we get Ovid's version of Coronis' demise, he writes that Apollo intensely and immediately regrets slaughtering Coronis. He regrets it so intensely that he, like he does with Hyacinthus, does his best to resuscitate her:

(Ovid, Metamorphoses Book Two. Apollo's regret)

And like Hyacinthus, when it becomes clear that what has happened cannot be undone, Apollo wails:

(Ovid, Metamorphoses Book Two. Apollo wept.)

Unlike his mother, Asclepius in her womb had not yet died and so, with the last of Apollo's strength, he does manage, at least, to save him.

(Ovid, Metamorphoses Book Two. Apollo puts the 'tearing out' in Asclepius.)

But it goes further than even that because Ocyrhoe, Chiron's daughter, a prophetess who unduly gained the ability to directly proclaim the secrets of the Fates, upon seeing the baby Asclepius, immediately prophesies his glory, his inevitable death and then his fated ascension:

(Ovid. Metamorphoses, Book Two. Ocyrhoe's prophecy. trans Johnston)

Before she too succumbs to her hubris and is transformed by the Fates into a horse so she can no longer speak secrets that aren't hers to share.

These things ultimately are important because it establishes two very important things: 1) Apollo can't do anything in the face of the ultimate Fate of mortals, which is, of course, death and 2) even when Apollo is Actively Devastated, regretful, yearning, mournful, guilty or some unholy combination of all of the above, when someone is dead, he accepts that they are gone. Even if he is devastated by it, even if he'll cry all the rest of his days about it - if they're dead? Apollo lets them go. In Fasti, when Zeus brings Asclepius back, he does not say Apollo asked him to - Zeus, or well, in this case Jove, brings Asclepius back because he wants Apollo to stop being mad at him.

(Ovid, Fasti VI. Apollo please come home your father misses you. trans. A.S Kline)

Even Boyle's translation which you used above in your findings hints that Zeus made Asclepius a god because he wanted Apollo to stop grieving. (i.e 'smile at your father', 'for your sake [he] undoes his prohibitions')

And like, Apollo was deeply upset by Asclepius' death - apart from killing the Cyclops in anger, in book 4 of the Argonautica, Apollonius writes that the Celts believe the stream of Eridanus to be the tears Apollo shed over the death of Asclepius when he left for Hyperborea after being chastised by Zeus for killing his Cyclops:

But the Celts have attached this story to them, that these are the tears of Leto's son, Apollo, that are borne along by the eddies, the countless tears that he shed aforetime when he came to the sacred race of the Hyperboreans and left shining heaven at the chiding of his father, being in wrath concerning his son whom divine Coronis bare in bright Lacereia at the mouth of Amyrus.

It all paints a very clear picture to me. Apollo did not ask for either of them to be brought back. Though bringing them back certainly pleased and delighted him, they are actions of other gods who are moved by Apollo's grief and mourning and seek to mollify him. Him not asking doesn't mean he didn't want them back which I think is a very important distinction by the by, but it simply means that Apollo knows the natural order of things and, even if it hurts, he isn't going to press his luck about it.

Which, of course, brings us to Admetus. And I'm really not going to overcomplicate this, Admetus is different because, very vitally, Admetus is not dead. Apollo can't do a thing once Fate has been carried out and Death has claimed a mortal but you know what he absolutely can do? Bargain like hell with the Fates before that point of inevitability. And that's what he does, ultimately for Admetus and Alcestis. He sought to prolong Admetus' life, not revive him from death or absolve him from death altogether and even after getting the Fates drunk, he's still only able to organise a sacrifice - a life for a life - something completely contingent on whether some other mortal would be willing to die in Admetus' place and not at all controllable by Apollo's own power.

All of these things, I think come back to that point you made - that Apollo's place as a god of order is very important and therefore these people are very special to him if it means he's willing to go against that order but, I also wish to challenge that opinion if you'd let me. Apollo's place as a god of order is very important and therefore, I would argue, that it is even more important that it is shown that he does not break the divine order, especially for the people that mean the most to him. The original context of my comments which started this conversation were on this lovely, lovely post by @hyacinthusmemorial which contemplated upon Asclepius from the perspective of an Emergency Medical personnel and included, in their tags, the very poignant lines "there's something about Apollo letting go when Asclepius couldn't that eats my heart away" and "you do what you can, you do your best, but you don't ever reach too far" and I think that's perfectly embodied with the Apollo-Asclepius dichotomy. Apollo grieves. He wails, he cries, he does his best each and every time to save that which is precious to him but he does not curse their nature, he does not resent that they are human and ultimately, he accepts that that which is mortal must inevitably die. There is nothing that so saliently proves that those who uphold rules are also their most staunch followers - if Apollo wants to delight in his place as Fate's mouthpiece, he cannot undo Fate. And, if even the god of healing and order himself cannot undo death, what right does Asclepius, mortal as he is, talented as he is, have to disrespect it?

The beauty of these stories isn't that Apollo loved them enough to bring them back. The beauty is that Apollo loved them enough to let them go.

[chaoticgremlin-1]

So, when I was at the ren faire, I found a booth called Spritekin Grove, and they had the CUTEST thing!

I'll put the text here too, because it's a little hard to read.

Deadname Removal by the Fae.

When a name is set to babe at birth,

A loving welcome to the earth.

With good intentions and wish bestowed,

And hopes to serve till they grow old...

Sometimes, the choosing, a challenge made.

As some babes face a harder fate.

For a body doesn't make a soul,

And in the wrong skin, we can't feel whole.

Trapped because the skin won't match,

For we are trans, and quite the catch!

But needing change to mend the wound,

A name that fits would be a boon!

Thus this book the Fae have bound,

For when a truer name you've found,

Your given name to give as price,

And claim the name that feels so nice!

Your old name will whisk away,

And give it to a Spritekin Fae.

And they will be such happy friends,

And use your name to better ends.

That name's no longer yours, you see!

You've traded it as a Farrie Fee!

And once a Farrie deal you make,

It's made for good! Make no mistake!

So never more will you be known,

As the name with which your skin was grown.

But the name you choose will always be.

The one that fills your heart with glee!

For that's what makes it your in sooth.

A name's a word that fits your truth!

It matters not from whence it came,

Or who gave to you your birthing nam.

For those who love us deep and true,

Will honor an name we choose,

And call us that which brings us joy,

And care not if we're girl or boy!

And so if you would make the trade,

Call a Keeper (attendant) hither!

And in this book, please write your name,

And leave it here forever.

A new name you may freely choose,

(tho one is not provided.)

The cost in charge is freely paid

(No fae deal is one-side!)

If someone calls that old name now,

You can just ignore!

They must be calling someone else!

That name is you no more.

So, will you take the pen and write,

Your given name within?

If so, you're free to do so now,

You've only just begun!

(end of text)

Guys??? I'm crying??? I was too shy to write down a my name, but still! It's beautiful. The people who ran the stand were amazing. Me and my siblings each got a Spritekin, which are these little buddies that the fae put magic in for us. They don't have names untill you adopt them, and if you can't think of a name, they bring out a jar of little papers that have the names from the book.

This is mine, his name is Billy. I named him myself. I adopted him because he had a mad face, and I was scared no one else was gonna adopt him because of it.

This is my little brother's Spritekin. His name is Berry. Berry got his name from the jar. He has a broken arm, but that's okay. If you break the Spritekin, you can take them back to the Keepers, who can fix them!

This is my little sister's Spritekin. Her name is Pebbles, she named it.

The website is spritekingrove.com you can find upcoming events, and you can contact the Keepers!

[arcane-vagabond]

in honor of my incredibly painful, splitting migraines that are triggered by changes in barometric pressure (storms but more importantly tornadoes 👀) could you write something about tyler with someone that gets migraines because of changes in the weather?

ive had one for a week and my meds haven't been working 😭 im so used to them at this point that i try to ignore it and carry on as usual but my light sensitivity is making it difficult

you're an angel liz 💕💕🥰

For you, my love? Anything.

I think I'll just chat about it a little bit because unfortunately, I'm not feeling so hot myself this week lol

I think Tyler would be so attentive to you, making sure you're staying hydrated and getting you any pain meds you may need. Yeah, they don't help as much as you'd like, but the gesture means a lot to you.

Tyler is right by your side the entire time, your head in his lap if the two of you are in the living room. He checks every so often to make sure that your eye mask is still in place, blocking out any light from your sensitive eyes. One hand is cradling your head gently as he holds the book he's reading with the other.

He's right there whenever you want to move, whether it be to go to the bathroom, shower, or just go lay in bed. He's keeping an eye on you, making sure not to make too much noise whenever he's doing something around the house. He's shooting death glares at Boone whenever the rowdy chaser comes knocking, warning him that he'll be kicked to the curb if he does ANYTHING that makes your pain worse.

Ugh, he'd take such good care of you.

[mcsm-confessions]

We need more what-book-would-the-cast-read headcanons, stat. Nobody's invented television yet (or perhaps cinemas) so what form of entertainment is both historically accurate and available in-game? Books!

I'll start:

Jesse, as a turbo nerd, loves the heck out of whatever the in-univers equivalent of superhero comics is (knights, not laser beams), owns special editions of the Lord of the Rings, has fun with those campy space-opera sci-fi books and and occasionally picks up the occasional nonfiction book about obscure interesting topics, which her friends will then hear about nonstop for the next week or so. She has a special fondness for Charlotte's Web, which she used to read to Reuben when he was younger. She sometimes leafs through the latest Cosmo in the convenience store magazine rack as a guilty pleasure.

Olivia also enjoys a decent sci-fi novel (albeit less space opera and more hard science), likes murder mysteries, secretly indulges in a few chastely romantic Victorian classics, eats Linux user manuals for breakfast and gets the latest edition of Popular Redstonics mailed to the treehouse every fortnight. She has occasional arguments with Jesse over the organizational system of their shared library, which tends to lapse into chaos when the latter is in charge.

Axel shares Jesse's enthusiasm for superhero comics and is first in the queue to get the newest volumes for the both of them. His memoir and travel literature collection is substantial—his stamp collection sits proudly between—and he secretly reads poetry and has attempted to make his own tentatively awkward verses. He also subscribes to Backyard Demolitionists Weekly in the mail.

Petra doesn't mess with 'stuffy old books written by dead people' (classics), but still rereads Treasure Island and other gallivanting picaresque type novels in her spare time. She digs the Count of Monte Cristo but completely missed the message about the costly and potentially futile price of revenge. Anything history related that doesn't have multiple wars in it is like pulling teeth. She used to secretly look at the Playboys hidden in a chest in her father's room when no one was around.

Lukas is invested in a wide range of literary fiction, from historical novels to the weirder avant garde novellas, and has a soft spot for little felines in his books. He's not the most well versed in philosophy but had a brutal period in his late teens when he discovered Schopenhauer. East of Eden has a special place in his heart for certain familial similarities, but he's never thought to voice that out loud. On the rare occasion that he's really irate he'll burn through a standard slasher horror novel and then discreetly return it to the library. In the future, a whimsical passage in his authorized biography will note that he's one of the few authors who isn't on outrageous (or any) quantities of drugs when writing.

Ivor reads romance novels, the sappiest, bodice ripping Mills and Boons stuff. He hides it under extreme lock and key and would probably vaporize whoever found out about it. It's another thing he has in common with his mother, which he is apparently unaware of. He also composed atrocious poetry in his sulky teenage years, which was burnt long ago. Those Gary-Stu edgy grim fantasy protagonists appealed immensely to him, and was a phase that lasted until he got the chewing out of his life from Ellegaard when attempting the same mannerisms in the lab.

Aiden doesn't read and is proud of it because he's an arrogant numbskull.

~~~

[sirdolraan]

Recovery

(( DWC November 2024 Day 7, Peculiar/Theory, CW: None; @daily-writing-challenge ))

"This is Tinker calling Sapper, come in Sapper!" the radio came to life as Drogar sat at his desk, reading the day's mail. With a smile, he lifted the receiver.

"This is Sapper, I read yeh Tinker! How are things in Dornagal?"

"Quiet for the moment, we're working on maintaining the peace and following up leads on the Harbinger. How's my boy?" she asked, her reason for the call now clear.

"Stroganoff is still recovering, spending his time in the lava flows. I am, in fact, starting to suspect he's pretending to still be sick so he can stay down there and eat all meh food!"

Lorellai's laughter echoed through the radio static. "I mean, it's not impossible, but I also know he'd want to be with meh if he was really healthy. He's smart enough to find portals if he feels a need."

"I'll take yeh at yer word for tha', lass. Speaking of, though, I'd feel better if I knew yeh 'ad a boon companion, should I send one of my robots through for yeh?"

"Dunnae worry about that, Sapper, I've managed to befriend a cinder bee, he's a little clumsy but he's responded well to training, the earthen here gave me really good advice!"

"A cinder-bee, eh? Send me some photos, that sounds like somethin' worth seeing!"

"Will do, Sapper, but I should probably get going. We're going to try and help the storm-riders recover their mounts, and the team will be leaving in just a half-hour."

"I won't keep yeh then, glad to hear from yeh Tinker, I love yeh!" he said, returning the reciever to its holder, and looking out the window at the Hornswog below in the magma flow, without a care in the world. He might not be on the front lines anymore, but he could at least take care of one incredibly hungry dragon frog, he supposed.

[streetlightyeri]

Please please please more stuff for boone

I am, do not fret! I've just been busy with work and with working on my other wips (once I get a scene idea, I have to bring it to life immediately so I don't forget it) that I haven't gotten a chance to finish out my boone fic. I'm more than happy to give a sneak peek though!

my writing process is very ridiculous because I don't write in order, but rather patch scenes together, so thats why a lot of my snippet posts are me posting large, plot-important scenes, simply because that might be all that's written. (ie, my Scott post being the scene where he's searching for her. I have the final two scenes written and that one, so that fic is missing the entire beginning and middle third of it lol). that's not the case for this snippet though, this is very much not important to the plot at all, just a moment at the bar.

but this boone fic is giving me a lot of trouble, writing wise. :( part of me just wants to scrap it because it feels so cheesy and wattpad-y. but I did post about nine ball by Zach Bryan last week, so I guess I'll share that scene at the very least, even if everything else gets scrapped. fair warning, this is one of the scenes that I think feels the most wattpad like, so if you cringe easily (like me, I absolutely cannot handle secondhand embarrassment), this might not be the one for you lol.

for reference, "mafia" is Boone (and I guess the rest of the Wrangler's nickname for Rowan, since she always wears sunglasses and a mask). as always, wip posts are unproofread and subject to change <3

"go bet another six pack, bet i make a comeback; i know that this table's got a lean."

“Mafia! Come play a round!” 

Kate and Rowan turned, eyes flitting across the bar to find the owner of the voice. Boone was leaning against the back wall, a pool stick twisting gently in his hand. He moved to point at her once she saw him. She still had her mask and sunglasses on, paying little attention to the people who gave her odd looks. She was used to worse.

Kate made a cutting motion near her neck, silently telling them no.

Tyler called out next, “Come on City Girl! We’ll go easy on y’all!”

Rowan snorted under her mask, but the bar was far too loud for anyone to hear it besides Kate. The blonde hid her smirk in her drink. “We don’t play.”

“One round! Losers buy the winning group’s drinks.”

Kate was about to decline again, but Rowan knocked her arm with her elbow and tossed her head in their direction. She lowered her voice, “Are you sure?”

Rowan nodded. A devious glint danced in Kate’s eyes. A few chasers from other groups shouted out as the two crossed the bar; the StormPar group seemed to be putting their heads together about whether they should leave now or hold out hope for free drinks. Rowan took the pool stick in Boone’s outstretched hand while Kate took Tyler’s. Rowan placed her drink down on the edge of the pool table despite Boone offering to hold it, the coaster she snatched from the bar sitting on top as she chalked the tip. “What’s the rules?”

“No house rules, just the basics. Whoever gets the 8 ball in after clearing their designated group wins.” Boone took a sip of his beer.

Javi jogged up to the pool table, immediately recognizing what was happening. “Come on guys, let’s make it fair. Even if someone gets a ball in the pocket, the turn still ends. That way no one can clear the table without a fair chance.”

Tyler and Boone agreed. Rowan reached out to Javi, asking for her wallet. She pulled out a hundred, placing it in the jar next to the pool table that had “BETS” written on it in Sharpie. Tyler, Boone, and Kate did the same. “Whoever wins keeps their money and uses the loser’s to buy drinks. Sounds good?

Kate and Rowan nodded, the latter reaching up to remove her sunglasses. She parked them on the brim of her hat, not moving her eyes from Boone’s. He blinked hard, his mouth dropping open for a second before Dani clamped her hands on his shoulders as she laughed about what drink she’d be getting, snapping him out of the trance he was in from seeing her eyes for the first time. He bounced back to reality as Kate finished chalking her own stick, blowing off the excess dust. Both girls moved in to each other, their brains seeming to work as one, scanning over the table.

Tyler set his jaw and swallowed hard. “Ready, ladies?”

“As we’ll ever be.” Kate forced an uneasy smile and Rowan gave an innocent thumbs-up.

Kate broke, sending the ball to the side of the front 8-ball. A few laughs rang out amongst the crowd that gathered. The game went on like that, each team switching. Rowan and Kate got no more than 3 balls in, scratching each time. Each time Tyler and Boone got a ball in, the two girls put on their best disappointed expression. Even though the two tried to go easy on them, it was only a matter of time before Boone sank the 8-ball.

They gave sarcastic bows to the audience that clapped before turning their attention to the two women on the other side of the table. Rowan still had her mask on, hiding enough of her face in the dimly lit room.

Kate pouted, rubbing her thumb back and forth on the corner of the table. “That was fun. How about another round? Winner takes all?”

The crowd around them cheered, each member of the Tornado Wranglers adding money to the betting pool, expecting to collect it in a few minutes. But Javi must’ve clued in the StormPar group, as they also added bills to the jar.

Tyler tried to give them an out, “You sure, ladies? We can call this off.”

Both girls shook their heads eagerly, Rowan continuing the show, hanging onto her pool stick, “Come on, one more round! What do you have to lose?”

The two men agreed, Boone reracking the balls quickly. “At least let us show you how to shoot.”

“No thanks, it’s more fun this way. Winner should break.”

Since Boone made the winning shot, he made the first shot. When he lifted his head again, a huge grin on his face as the triangle of balls exploded across the table, he saw Javi standing there, arms around each girl’s shoulders, a huge smile plastered across each of their faces. He could tell Rowan had one too by the crinkle at the corners of her eyes. “Ben, I think you should get your camera ready. This is what we in America call ‘a hustle’.”

Shot after shot, turn after turn, Kate and Rowan sank a ball. No matter how many times Boone and Tyler tried, they were unable to catch up. Not a single turn went without them sinking a ball. When nothing remained on their side but the 8-ball, Dexter spoke up, breaking the tense air of the entire bar. “Call the pocket.”

The StormPar group let out protests, claiming that it wasn’t in the rules for the last game, but Rowan just shrugged. “Okay. That one.”

She pointed towards the middle pocket. Dexter narrowed his eyes as he scanned the table. “No matter what angle you hit from, there’s no way you’d make it in there.”

Kate rested her weight on one palm that was angled against the table. “Not normally, but this table’s tilted.”

Boone searched for anything that would’ve told the two that information. There were no rocking legs or rolling balls. Then his eyes landed on the glass she refused to hand him earlier, sitting on the edge, the liquid in it just barely slanted. “We’ve been outsmarted, T.”

“You know, I think you're right, Boone.”

Rowan sank the ball in the pocket she called. StormPar cheered, as well as the few other random bar goers that gathered to watch. Rowan and Kate mock bowed for Ben’s camera before retrieving the money left over after Javi and the StormPar members took back theirs as well as an extra hundred to pay for the drinks they were about to ring in. Kate took the stack, counting the money in front of the Wranglers before stacking it all together and handing it out to them.

Tyler looked at it quizzically. Kate shook the stack of money again, silently telling him to grab it. “We don’t need it. Keep it.”

“Y’all won it.”

Rowan laughed, as she turned back to the group after returning the balls and pool sticks to their rightful places. “We hustled you. Take your money back. Drinks are on me. Javi took my hundred up to the bar. Get what y’all want.”

Reluctantly, Tyler took the money and distributed it all back amongst his group as the girls returned to their room for the night.

[rootedinrevisions]

Too Late

SUMMARY: Tyler is forced to choose between the career he loves and the woman he loves. After leaving for a chase after a fight with his girlfriend, Tyler's world spirals into chaos. He struggles to balance is job with the life he wants. Both you and Tyler are forced to confront what you're willing to sacrifice for love and whether there's still time to fix what's been damaged.

A/N: Thank you to the person who sent this request in! I apologize that it's taken me so long to get it written. Work kept getting in the way and then I was struggling with writer's block. And then I started writing again but it was mostly Glen himself and I was struggling to finish this. I hope it's worth the wait! I'm working to get requests done as I have time and the inspiration is flowing! Hope you enjoy! xx

THERE WILL BE A PART 2 COMING TO THIS! because for some reason it's impossible for me to write angst and leave it at that.

WARNINGS: None, just a lot of heart-shattering angst. This one made me cry while writing it, so be prepared!

WORD COUNT: 5.8k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

WWE/Wrestling: Cody Rhodes, Corey Graves, Damian Priest, Drew McIntyre, Finn Balor, Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Kevin Owens, L.A. Knight, Pat McAfee, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins (if there is someone you're thinking of from WWE and they aren't on the list feel free to ask! There are so many guys on the roster that these were the ones that came to mind.)

The hum of the television filled the living room, a soft background noise to the steady rhythm of Tyler’s breathing. His arm draped lazily over your shoulders, his hand resting against your collarbone, warm and reassuring. You leaned into him, your legs tucked under you, savoring the rare stillness of the moment.

Tyler had been home for twelve hours, and for ten of them, he’d been passed out in your bed, utterly spent after a grueling two-week storm chase. You’d stayed up waiting for him to walk through the door last night, running on caffeine and the sheer anticipation of seeing him again. When he finally stumbled in, soaked to the bone and bone-tired, you didn’t mind his muttered apologies for being late or the faint smell of rain that clung to him. You were just happy he was home.

Now, as he held you on the couch, his thumb absentmindedly tracing patterns against your skin, you allowed yourself to breathe. It was these quiet moments that made all the waiting, all the worry, worth it.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Tyler murmured, his voice husky from sleep. He shifted slightly, his head tilting toward you, those familiar brown eyes heavy-lidded but focused entirely on you.

“I’m just glad you’re here,” you admitted softly, your fingers toying with the hem of his T-shirt. “Two weeks felt like forever.”

“I know,” he said, his voice tinged with guilt. “I didn’t think it would take that long. Storms were... unpredictable this time.”

You reached up, brushing a stray lock of his wavy brown hair off his forehead. “It’s okay. I get it. You’re home now—that’s what matters.”

He let out a long breath, leaning his head back against the couch. “Home,” he echoed, almost as if the word was foreign to him. But the way his arm tightened around you, pulling you closer, made it clear that he understood exactly what it meant.

“Hungry?” you asked after a beat, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Starving,” he admitted, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Well, you’re in luck. I made lasagna last night. Figured you’d need something hearty after living off gas station snacks and fast food.”

Tyler chuckled, his voice rumbling against you. “Have I mentioned lately how lucky I am to have you?”

You tilted your head to look at him, your smile mirroring his. “Not today. But you can start now.”

He laughed softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“I’ll do better,” he promised, and in that moment, with his warmth surrounding you and the steady beat of his heart under your ear, you believed him.

The oven beeped softly as you set the timer, the warm smell of lasagna already starting to fill the kitchen. It wouldn’t be as good as it was fresh last night, but Tyler wouldn’t care. He’d scarf it down and tell you it was the best meal he’d had in weeks, and you’d believe him because that’s just who he was—always grateful, always sincere.

You were rinsing a glass in the sink when you heard the faint buzz of Tyler’s phone vibrating against the coffee table in the living room. His deep voice carried over the quiet hum of the house as he answered. You couldn’t make out the words, but you had a pretty good guess who it was. Boone or Dani, maybe both. You leaned against the counter, straining to catch fragments of the conversation. Tyler’s voice was calm but firm, his words clipped in the way they always were when he was focused on a problem.

The sound of his footsteps moving toward the stairs made your stomach twist. You turned just in time to see him disappear up to the second floor, the weight of dread settling over you like a heavy blanket. You didn’t need to ask what was happening; you already knew.

Still, you found yourself following him, your bare feet padding softly on the stairs. By the time you reached the doorway to your bedroom, Tyler was pulling clothes from the dresser, a duffel bag already lying open on the bed. He didn’t notice you at first, too preoccupied with finding what he needed. You leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms as you watched him.

“How bad is it?” you asked finally, your voice quieter than you intended.

Tyler glanced over his shoulder, startled by your presence, but he didn’t stop packing. 

“Really bad,” he admitted, shoving a few shirts into the bag. “There’s a cell headed straight for Oklahoma City. Boone says it’s one of the nastiest cells he’s seen in a while.”

“How long will you be gone this time?” you asked, already bracing yourself for the answer.

He sighed, pausing as he reached for a pair of jeans. “I don’t know. Hopefully just a few nights.”

You nodded, though the lump in your throat made it hard to swallow. “Do you really need to go? You just got back, Ty. Can’t you sit this one out? Just once?”

Tyler turned to face you, his expression conflicted. “I wish I could, but this one’s bad. Towns are gonna need us. Javi and Kate are already on their way, and Dani’s meeting us there.”

You flinched at the mention of her name. Kate. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Tyler—you did, completely. He was a good man, loyal to a fault. But lately, it felt like every story he told, every update he gave, involved her. Kate this, Kate that. The team. Always the team.

The crack in your voice surprised even you when you finally spoke. “Just go. Go hang out with Kate. You’ve gotten pretty good at that.”

The words hung in the air like a storm cloud, heavy and electric. Tyler froze, the shirt in his hand forgotten as he turned to look at you. His face fell, hurt flickering in his eyes before he sighed and set the shirt down on the bed.

“That’s not fair,” he said quietly, his tone even but weighted. “You know that’s not what this is about.”

“I know,” you whispered, tears stinging your eyes as you looked away. “I just... I don’t want you to go, Tyler.”

“I don’t want to go either,” he said, stepping toward you. His voice was softer now, but there was still a hint of frustration. “But this is what I do. What we do. You knew that when you moved in.”

“And what about what I need?” you countered, your arms tightening across your chest. “You’ve been gone for two weeks, Ty. Two weeks. I barely got you back, and now you’re leaving again.”

He didn’t respond right away, his jaw tightening as he searched for the right words. Instead of answering, he reached for you, his hand brushing against your arm. But you pulled back, shaking your head as a tear slipped down your cheek.

“Don’t,” you murmured. “Just… pack your bag.”

You turned sharply on your heel, heading back downstairs before the tears welling in your eyes could spill over. Tyler’s sigh was heavy, cutting through the thick silence of the house. You heard his footsteps following you, faster now, as he called after you.

“Darlin’,” he said, his voice soft but insistent. “C’mon, wait.”

You didn’t stop. You didn’t want to have this conversation, not when your emotions were this raw, but he caught up to you at the bottom of the stairs, his hand reaching gently for your arm.

“Sweetheart, please,” he tried again, stepping in front of you to block your retreat. His green eyes searched yours, filled with concern and something you couldn’t quite place. “I don’t want to leave like this.”

You scoffed, pulling your arm free and folding it across your chest. “Funny, that. You seem to have no problem leaving any other time.”

He winced at the jab, but his expression softened as he tried to explain. “It’s not what you think. I know you’re upset about Kate, but—”

“This isn’t about her, Ty,” you interrupted, shaking your head as you turned away from him.

The frustration in his face shifted to confusion. “Then what is it? Why are you so upset?”

Your hands clenched at your sides as you looked at him, trying to find the words that would make him understand. “I’m upset because you’re leaving. Again. Because every time you walk out that door, I don’t know how long it’ll be until I see you again. And I’m supposed to just… deal with it. Like it doesn’t matter. Like I don’t matter.”

“Darlin’…” he started, but you cut him off again.

“My birthday party is on Saturday, Ty,” you said, your voice cracking as you met his gaze. “In two days. You knew that, right?”

His face told you everything you needed to know before he said a word. He’d either forgotten or hadn’t thought about it when he’d agreed to meet up with the team. The guilt in his eyes was enough to send a fresh wave of hurt through you.

“I’ll try to be back for it,” he said finally, but you could hear the hollowness in the promise. You both knew it wasn’t likely.

You felt your heart ache, the words barely leaving your lips. “Do you even realize what that does to me? The hoping, the waiting—knowing you probably won’t be there?”

He stepped closer, reaching for your hand, but you pulled away. “I want to stay,” he said earnestly, his voice breaking ever so slightly. “I do. But I can’t. I’m needed out there. These storms, they—”

“Don’t,” you whispered, shaking your head. “Don’t say it.”

“Darlin’, just let it go,” he pleaded, his voice desperate now. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I swear. And when I get back, we’ll have a date night. Whatever you want. You plan it, I’ll make it happen. Just... let me go, okay?”

The tears you’d been holding back slipped free, rolling down your cheeks as you finally broke. “I can’t just let you go,” you said, your voice trembling. “Not this time, Ty. Please. Don’t make me try to make you stay.”

He reached for you again, but this time, you didn’t pull away. Instead, you let him take your hands in his, his warmth grounding you even as your heart shattered.

“I just…” Your voice cracked as you looked up at him, the tears blurring your vision. “I just want to be enough. Just once, I want to be enough for you to stay.”

The words hung in the air, raw and aching, as Tyler’s grip on your hands tightened. He opened his mouth to respond, but for the first time, he seemed at a loss. His eyes searched yours, the storm inside him almost as intense as the one he was chasing.

Before Tyler could say anything else, his phone buzzed, the sound sharp and intrusive in the quiet tension between you. He pulled it from his pocket, glancing at the screen. His jaw tightened as he sighed, the weight of the message clearly written in his expression.

“Boone’ll be here in about fifteen minutes,” he said softly, sliding the phone back into his pocket. “I need to finish packing.”

You didn’t respond, only nodding as you reached up to swipe at the tears still slipping down your cheeks. His words, as well-intentioned as they might have been, were a knife to the heart. He wasn’t saying, I’ll stay, or even, Let’s finish talking. He was saying, I’ve already made my choice.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Tyler said, his voice heavy with something that might have been regret. “We can keep talking then.”

But you both knew the truth. He might want to come back to this conversation, but the fact that he was finishing packing first told you everything you needed to know. Nothing you could say would make him stay.

When he returned downstairs, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, you heard Boone’s old beat up van pulling into the driveway. The headlights briefly lit up the kitchen window before Tyler opened the door and called out to his friend, “I’ll be right there.”

Then he turned back to you. You were still at the counter, picking absently at your lasagna, the fork dragging across your plate. The second plate—the one you’d made for him—sat untouched, cooling and forgotten.

He hesitated for a moment, then stepped closer. “Darlin’,” he said softly, his voice full of unspoken apologies. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

You didn’t look up, but you felt him lean in to press a kiss to your lips. You turned away at the last second, and his kiss landed awkwardly on your cheek. He sighed and shifted, settling instead for a kiss on the crown of your head.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice almost breaking.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing the words past it. “I love you, too.”

And you did. God, you did. You loved him to a fault, even when it felt like your love wasn’t enough to make him stay.

“Be safe,” you whispered.

“I will,” he promised, his words like a balm to a wound that wouldn’t heal.

You watched him walk out the door, your eyes stinging with fresh tears as Tyler’s truck rumbled to life. You watched through the kitchen window as Tyler threw his bag into the back and climbed into the driver’s seat, his figure silhouetted in the dim glow of the driveway lights. Boone threw his own bag into the backseat and then climbed into the passenger seat.

And then they were gone. Tailights headed up the driveway and then disappearing as Tyler turned onto the highway.

You stood there for a long moment, staring at the empty driveway, wondering—When will he be done with this? With chasing every storm, every call for adventure? You blinked, and the tears spilled over, hot and unrelenting.

You made your way back to the living room, the familiar comfort of the worn couch doing little to ease the ache in your chest. Your mind wandered as you sank into the cushions, your fingers absentmindedly tracing the fabric.

You thought back to a conversation you and Tyler had a few weeks ago, one of those late-night talks where the future seemed so bright and full of possibility. He’d talked about marriage, about having kids. About building a life together.

But now, as you sat there in the quiet, the weight of his absence pressing down on you, a painful thought crept in. How could he ever be a husband or a father when he barely had time to be a boyfriend?

The realization broke something in you. You wanted that life with Tyler more than anything. You wanted to be his wife, to see him become a father. You wanted to build a family with him, to share those moments of joy and chaos and love.

But you didn’t want him to be a part-time dad. You didn’t want a husband who was always somewhere else, chasing storms and leaving you behind.

And for the first time, you wondered if the life you wanted was even possible with the man you loved.

* * * *

TYLER’S P.O.V.

The rhythmic hum of Tyler’s truck tires against the highway should have been soothing, but to Tyler, it felt like nails on a chalkboard. He stared out the window, his elbow propped on the door, fingers pressed against his temple. The world outside was dark, illuminated only by the truck’s headlights and the occasional glow of a passing sign.

Boone cast a sideways glance at him for what had to be the tenth time in the last fifteen minutes. Tyler knew it was only a matter of time before he spoke up, but he wasn’t ready to talk. Not yet.

“You gonna tell me what’s eatin’ at you, or do I have to drag it outta you?” Boone finally asked, breaking the silence.

Tyler didn’t respond at first, just shifted in his seat and rubbed the back of his neck.

“C’mon, man,” Boone continued. “We’ve been friends too long for me not to know when somethin’s wrong. You’ve barely said a word since we left, haven’t turned on the music, and you’re starin’ out the window like the answer to life’s problems is out there somewhere.”

Tyler sighed, long and heavy, before leaning back in his seat. “It’s nothin’, Boone. Just tired.”

Boone snorted, unimpressed. “Bull. You’ve pulled all-nighters before and still wouldn’t shut up the whole ride. Don’t make me guess, Ty. Just spit it out.”

Tyler let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re like a damn bloodhound, you know that?”

“Yup. Now spill.”

Tyler hesitated, but finally gave in. “We had a fight,” he admitted quietly.

Boone glanced at him again, his brows furrowing. “You and her?”

Tyler nodded. “Yeah. Right before I left.”

“What about?” Boone asked, his tone softening.

Tyler hesitated again, struggling to find the right words. “I dunno, man. Not really Kate, but…I guess kinda about Kate?” He let out another sigh. “She’s not mad about her, though. She’s mad about me leavin’. Again.”

Boone didn’t say anything at first, just let Tyler talk.

“She told me she needed me to stay,” Tyler continued, his voice quieter now. “For her. For once, she needed me to stay, and I still…I didn’t.” He swallowed hard, the weight of his own words settling heavily on his chest.

Boone nodded slowly. “And you think you messed up bad this time?”

Tyler’s laugh was humorless, almost bitter. “Yeah, Boone. I think I really screwed up. She turned away when I tried to kiss her goodbye, man. That’s never happened before. And the look on her face…” His voice cracked, and he paused, swallowing against the lump in his throat.

Boone glanced at him again, concern etched across his face. “She loves you, Ty. You know that, right?”

“I know,” Tyler said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But what if…what if it’s not enough anymore? What if I’m not enough anymore?” He shook his head, his voice breaking again. “I can’t lose her, Boone. I can’t.”

Boone tightened his grip on the wheel, his jaw set. “Then don’t. You’re stubborn as hell when it comes to everything else, so don’t give up on this either. You’ll figure it out, Ty.”

Tyler nodded, running a hand over his face. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I know.”

The two fell into silence again, but this time it wasn’t quite as heavy. Boone reached over and turned on the radio, keeping the volume low. Tyler leaned his head back against the seat, staring at the roof of the truck and trying to figure out how the hell he was going to fix this.

* * * *

TWO DAYS LATER, YOUR BIRTHDAY

The sun streamed through your bedroom window as you sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at your phone. A single missed call and a few unread texts from Tyler stared back at you. You hadn’t opened the messages, too stubborn—or maybe too hurt—to even look at them. It wasn’t that you didn’t care. You cared too much, and that was the problem.

You opened the Life360 app for what had to be the hundredth time in the last two days, watching Tyler’s little icon blink on the map. Still in Oklahoma. Still chasing storms. Still too far away to make it home.

Even if he left right now, you calculated bitterly, it’d be three, maybe four in the morning before he walked through the door. But he wasn’t leaving. You knew that. The tracker told you everything you needed to know—Tyler Owens wasn’t coming home for your birthday.

You locked your phone and tossed it onto the bed, your chest tightening with the familiar ache of disappointment. It wasn’t anger. No, anger would have been easier. Anger would have been a quick burn, a flash of heat that you could let out and be done with. This was worse. This was the cold, dull ache of hurt.

You stood and moved to the mirror, staring at your reflection as you got ready for the party. You’d spent weeks planning this, excited to celebrate with the people you loved most. Now, the thought of facing them felt almost unbearable. Everyone would ask about Tyler, and you’d have to put on a brave face, smile through the questions, and pretend like you weren’t holding your breath every time your phone buzzed, hoping it’d be him telling you he was on his way.

But you knew better. He wasn’t coming.

As you brushed a stray tear from your cheek, your mind wandered back to the conversation you’d had with Tyler a few weeks ago. He’d talked about your future together, about getting married and having kids, painting a picture of a life you’d always dreamed of. But now, the cracks in that picture seemed impossible to ignore. How could you build a life with someone who was always halfway out the door?

You closed your eyes, inhaling deeply as you fought to push those thoughts aside. Not today. You wouldn’t let them ruin today. This was your birthday, and you deserved to enjoy it, even if he wasn’t there.

Straightening your shoulders, you turned back to the mirror and gave yourself a firm nod. You’d put on your best dress, your brightest smile, and celebrate with the people who were here. But as you stepped away from the mirror and picked up your phone again, that stubborn, nagging ache in your chest reminded you that no matter how hard you tried, a part of you would always be waiting for him.

The party was in full swing by the time you arrived, the sound of laughter and conversation filling the air. String lights hung from the trees, casting a warm glow over the backyard, and the scent of barbecue wafted through the cool evening breeze. Everyone had shown up—friends, family, even a few coworkers. It should’ve felt perfect.

But as you smiled and greeted everyone, it felt like you were moving through a haze. The excitement and joy on everyone else’s faces only seemed to amplify the emptiness you felt inside. You plastered on a smile, accepting hugs and well-wishes, thanking people for coming, but the effort was exhausting.

A couple of hours in, you found yourself standing near the drink table, sipping from a plastic cup of wine and watching the crowd. Your mom made her way over, a warm smile on her face, but the moment she reached you, her brow furrowed slightly.

“Honey, where’s Tyler?” she asked, her voice gentle but laced with curiosity.

You froze for a moment, gripping the cup a little tighter. “Oh, he’s, um, he’s on a chase,” you said, forcing the words out. “It came up last minute.”

Her expression softened with understanding, but you could see the concern flicker in her eyes. “I’m sure he wishes he could be here,” she said, reaching out to touch your arm.

You nodded quickly, blinking back the sting of tears. “Yeah, of course. He’s been texting me. He feels awful about it.” The lie slipped out so easily, you almost believed it yourself.

Your mom gave you a small squeeze before drifting back into the crowd, but the interaction left you rattled. You tried to shake it off, turning to join a group of friends by the fire pit, laughing at their stories and pretending like everything was fine.

But as the hours dragged on, the weight of Tyler’s absence pressed heavier on your chest. Every time someone asked about him or mentioned how great the party was, it felt like a reminder of what was missing. You glanced at your watch—10:03. The party was supposed to go until one, but you couldn’t stay another minute.

You slipped away quietly, grabbing your purse and coat from the entryway. A few people called out goodbyes as you left, and you forced a smile, waving over your shoulder as you made your way to the car.

The drive home was a blur. By the time you walked through the front door, the tears you’d been holding back all evening finally broke free. You kicked off your heels and sank onto the couch, burying your face in your hands as sobs wracked your body.

You’d wanted so badly to enjoy tonight, to celebrate with the people who loved you. But the one person you needed most wasn’t there, and no amount of pretending could fill that void.

You thought about all the times you’d told yourself it was okay, that Tyler’s work was important, that you understood why he couldn’t always be there. But tonight, it didn’t feel okay. Tonight, you just felt… alone.

And as you curled up on the couch, clutching a throw pillow to your chest, a single thought echoed in your mind: How much longer can I keep doing this?

* * * *

The soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains as Tyler stepped through the front door. Exhaustion pulled at him, but it wasn’t what he noticed. What stopped him cold was the sight of you curled up on the couch, a pillow clutched to your chest, tear tracks staining your cheeks. His heart sank.

He set his bag down quietly, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He knew he’d hurt you—he always knew—but seeing it like this, seeing you broken because of him, twisted the knife in his chest.

Carefully, he walked over and crouched beside the couch. For a moment, he just looked at you, the rise and fall of your chest as you slept. The way your fingers clung to the pillow as if it could offer some comfort.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick.

Tyler leaned down and slid his arms under you, lifting you gently. You stirred slightly, murmuring in your sleep, but you didn’t wake. He carried you upstairs, careful not to bump into anything, and laid you down on the bed. He pulled the blankets up to your shoulders, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face before leaving quietly.

A few hours later, you made your way downstairs, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Your body felt heavy, your chest tight. The events of last night still hung over you like a storm cloud.

As you reached the living room, you noticed him sitting on the couch, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. A bouquet of wildflowers sat on the coffee table in front of him, their bright colors almost mocking in the dull atmosphere.

He heard your steps and looked up, his face lighting up with a hopeful smile. “Morning,” he said softly, standing and walking toward you.

You stopped at the base of the stairs, arms crossed, as he closed the distance. He reached out, pulling you into his arms. 

“You look pretty,” he said, his voice warm and tender.

You huffed, pulling back just enough to look at him. “I cried myself to sleep last night, so I’m sure I look like a supermodel,” you said, your voice laced with sarcasm.

His smile faltered, and his brow furrowed. “You cried yourself to sleep?” he repeated, his voice dropping with guilt. “God, I’m so sorry.”

You pulled away, shaking your head, and walked past him into the living room. His gaze followed you, the weight of your silence pressing down on him.

“I missed you,” he said softly, his voice tentative.

You didn’t respond. You sat down on the armrest of the chair, staring at the flowers but refusing to acknowledge him.

Tyler sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, silent treatment. Got it.” He stepped closer, his tone pleading now. “What’s it gonna take to make this up to you?”

You looked up at him then, your eyes sharp and filled with hurt. “It’s too late for that.”

His face fell, and for a moment, he just stared at you, as if the words hadn’t fully sunk in. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice cracking.

You took a deep breath, the words tasting bitter as you forced them out. “I mean I’m done, Tyler. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep having you miss things—important things—for the job.”

He staggered back a step, as if the words had physically struck him. “No, no, don’t say that,” he said, his voice breaking. “Please, don’t say that.”

His knees hit the floor in front of you, his hands reaching for yours. “I can’t lose you. I’ll do better, I promise. I’ll talk to the team—I already did. I told them I’d cut back on the days I’m on the road. I swear to you, it’ll be different.”

You shook your head, tears spilling down your cheeks. “It’s too late, Tyler. You should’ve done that months ago. I begged you to.”

His hands gripped yours tighter, desperation pouring out of him. “I know. I know I screwed up. I know I’ve hurt you. But I love you. I need you. Please… just give me one more chance.”

You looked away, your heart-shattering at the sight of him, broken and pleading. You wanted so badly to believe him, to believe that things could change. But deep down, you knew the cycle would continue.

The finality in your voice broke him. He leaned his forehead against your knees, his shoulders shaking as he choked back a sob. You reached down, your fingers threading through his hair one last time, and then you stood, walking away before you could change your mind.

* * * *

A WEEK LATER

The house was eerily quiet, save for the faint creak of the floorboards as Tyler shuffled aimlessly from room to room. He hadn’t left in days, couldn’t bring himself to. The walls seemed to press in around him, suffocating and empty. The coffee table still held the dead bouquet of wildflowers he’d bought for you, their once-vivid colors now dulled to brown. Next to them sat the small red box, untouched, its contents a painful reminder of what he’d lost.

He sank onto the couch, rubbing his hands over his face. His eyes burned, swollen from too many sleepless nights and too many tears. He hadn’t eaten much. He hadn’t showered. He couldn’t bring himself to care. Every corner of the house was haunted by you—your laughter, your smile, the faint scent of your perfume still lingering in the air.

A sharp knock at the door startled him. He ignored it, hoping whoever it was would go away. But the knocking came again, louder this time, and then he heard Boone’s voice calling out.

“Tyler! Open the damn door!”

Tyler groaned, dragging himself off the couch. He unlocked the door and swung it open, only to find Boone, Lilly, Dexter, and Dani standing on his porch. They took one look at him, and their faces fell.

“Jesus, man,” Boone said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. The others followed, their expressions a mix of concern and shock.

“You look like hell,” Lilly said softly, her hand brushing his arm.

Tyler let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, it feels about right.”

They gathered in the living room, their eyes flicking to the dead flowers and the mess of empty coffee cups and takeout containers scattered on the table. Boone cleared his throat, leaning forward.

“All right, spill. What the hell happened?”

Tyler sank back onto the couch, his head in his hands. He took a shaky breath before finally speaking. “She’s gone,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

The room fell silent. Boone exchanged a confused look with Dexter, while Dani’s hand flew to her mouth.

“Gone?” Lilly asked. “What do you mean, gone? We knew you two fought, but… Tyler, we thought you’d work it out.”

Tyler shook his head, his voice breaking. “She’s done. She walked out, and I don’t blame her. I couldn’t—” He stopped, his throat tightening. “I couldn’t give her what she needed. I wasn’t there for her. She deserved better, and I couldn’t be that for her.”

Boone leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “Tyler, man, you’ve gotta talk to her. Fix this.”

“It’s too late,” Tyler said, his voice hollow. “She’s made up her mind.”

The group exchanged glances, unsure of what to say. Boone’s gaze drifted to the coffee table, where the small red box caught his attention. He reached for it, his fingers brushing the worn velvet.

Tyler’s head snapped up. “Boone, don’t—”

But it was too late. Boone flipped the lid open, his eyes widening as he took in the ring inside. The room went still.

“Tyler,” Boone said, his voice low. “What is this?”

Tyler’s jaw clenched, and he looked away, unable to meet his friend’s gaze. “It’s… it was supposed to be hers,” he said quietly. “I was going to ask her that night we got back. I was going to tell her I was ready to change, ready to be better for her. Ask her to give me one more chance. But it didn’t matter. I waited too long.”

The weight of his confession hung in the air, pressing down on everyone in the room. Lilly’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and Dani reached over to place a comforting hand on Tyler’s arm.

“Tyler,” Dexter said gently, “it’s not too late. If you love her, you fight for her. You show her you’re serious. You don’t give up now.”

Tyler shook his head. “She’s better off without me,” he muttered.

“No,” Boone said firmly, closing the ring box and setting it back on the table. “She’s not. She loves you, Tyler.”

Tyler didn’t respond. He just stared at the floor, the weight of their words battling with the doubt and regret that consumed him.

The room fell silent again, each of them searching for the right thing to say. Finally, Lilly spoke up, her voice soft but determined.

“Tyler, you don’t have to do this alone. We’ll help you figure it out.”

Tyler’s shoulders sagged, and for the first time in days, a flicker of hope pierced through the darkness. “I don’t know if she’ll even listen,” he said quietly.

“You don’t know unless you try,” Boone said.

Tyler stands up abruptly, grabbing his keys, his mind set on finding you. But Boone, ever the realist, steps in his path. He holds up a hand, a half-smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

"Ty, you’re not going anywhere like that," Boone says, looking him up and down. "You’ve been living like a hermit for a week. You smell like you’ve slept in a barn, and I’m pretty sure your hair has its own ecosystem. Go take a shower, put on some clean clothes, and then we’ll talk about how you’re gonna win her back. You can’t even look at her like this."

Tyler stares at Boone, then looks down at his own disheveled appearance, realizing his friend might have a point. With a sigh, he drops the keys onto the counter. “Fine.

Boone watches him with a knowing look as Tyler trudges upstairs, and the team remains silent for a moment.

Boone sighs and heads toward the door, turning back once to glance at Tyler’s room. He knows his friend isn’t ready to give up, and neither is he. Tyler had made his mistake, but it wasn’t too late to change. They just had to get him there first...and then hope by some miracle that you'd listen to what Tyler had to say.

[gamerwoman3d]

Listen, if Ed Boon asked me to write official tie-in novel filth for Mortal Kombat, I would. I don't care if he sends a studio note that says "If you make Sub-Zero any gayer I'll rip your fucking head off," I'd still work for him. Who needs a head anyways. Love that guy.

Anyways here's a wonderwall of filth.

[🔞🔞🔞Check below the cut🔞🔞🔞]

Explicit, Spicy, Juicy, and definitely🔞🔞🔞past this point

I should mention- You can actually read all of my writings directly on my masterlist without logging in to tumblr.

◜Sub-Zero, Smoke, Liu Kang options - Please Be Bi-Han 🙏◞

Just use any browser app and type in mk1erotica.netlify.app in the browser's address bar to access my masterlist from anywhere on any device.

Yes. Any device. This may even work on an Apple watch, on the Parrity browser. You can probably ask Siri to open a browser and navigate to the masterlist. You can use any browser. You can use Safari, Chrome, Brave, Firefox, Microsoft Edge. It can work on a Roku if you have a web browser like Web Browser X or Xfinity. It will run on ųBrowser or Opera. But I recommend DuckDuckGo!

Multi-Character Choose your own MK1 Adventure

Reptile [Syzoth, MK1 Version]

◜ mk1 men using their powers in the bedroom part 1 of ?◞

Sub-Zero [Bi-han, MK1 version]

Neck tattoo imagines parts 1 2 AND 3

◜ mk1 men using their powers in the bedroom part 2 of ?◞

◜ mk1 men using their powers in the bedroom part 2 of ?◞

◜I Need Attention◞

◜mk1 Sub-Zero: sexiest angst trope?◞

Johnny Cage [MK1 Version]

◜ mk1 men kinks & darker motivations part 2 of ?◞

Scorpion [Kuai Liang, MK1 version]

Beta Tester [Can be read as Hanzo if you're imaginative]

Bloody Horny Kuai Liang Scorpion - https://www.tumblr.com/gamerwoman3d/737285442221801472/%F0%9D%9F%B9

BONUS MATERIAL

Skins That Would Be in MK1 If I Had A Voodoo Doll of Ed Boon [Fun, Sexy skins for Kenshi, Scorpion, Kitana, & Sub-Zero]

The Gollum Test [Essay about writing better x readers]

Sub-Zero Long Hair Posts[linked without box because of tumblr post limitations]

Part 2 : Sub-Zero Long Hair Posts[linked without box because of tumblr post limitations]

Other horny drabbles [separate list]

About This Blog [links to post about guidelines reqs etc]

[Need more MK1 smut? Check the pin 📌]

Permissions summary: YOU HAVE MY EXPRESSED PERMISSION TO USE ANY SCREENSHOTS, GIFS, ASSETS OR CONTENT THAT I HAVE MADE OF THE GAME MK1 [MORTAL KOMBAT 1 (2023)]. EVERYONE has my enthusiastic consent. You don't have to make something I *enjoy* with those assets. You're under no obligation to please me with your content, even if it's made with bits of my content. Enjoy yourselves, go wild! Any MK1 screenshots or gifs that I make can be used for your fanworks as long as you have the legal rights to do so. [I'm pretty sure you all have the legal right to make any fanart/icons/reposts/headers/photo edits/collages/parody that you like, but I do not know every single law for every country. You're on your own to research whether you'd get in trouble for SubScorp art in Indonesia or the PRC or Alabama or wherever you are where all the rules get weird. But as long as you're not getting punished for using my MK1 gameplay in your work, go nuts! You have my permission to use the assets I've made from the game.]

[jourke-rourke]

stuck again thinking about the EXCELLENT writing and foreshadowing regarding Sarah's illness and Boone + Three's guilt over it. how when Sarah relays the story of how she got sick- Boone preparing to leave her, saying he wasn't good for her, then sticking around to take care of her- Three immediately jumps to 'maybe I felt guilty.' Which logically doesn't make sense, because he has no reason to think he bears any personal responsibility for her sickness. He has no idea who she is or what's going on, but he still instantly clocks his gut feeling towards her as 'crippling guilt.'

& then later when Three finds her body, One shows up and kinda tries to take responsibility for it, but Three just shuts him down. Which, compare & contrast to his reaction when Two gets spaced in S1E10- he's angry, sure, and he immediately takes it out on Six and One for... not fighting hard enough? Nothing logical, but his instinct is still to turn it into anger. Which makes it more notable that when One is there blatantly offering Three a scapegoat, Three refuses to take it- his actual line is 'did you give Sarah an incurable disease?' .... 'then what are we talking about?' . unable to blame One for it because he's already blaming himself even though he has no idea why.

and then mourns for DAYS. which, admittedly, isn't long to mourn a dead lover, but also he only remembers like ten days so that's still a third of his life spent sulking in his room all guilty. and of all people, Four is the one who thinks he's best suited to go talk Three out of it, despite emotions very obviously not being his forte. anyways I don't want to paste the whole exchange so I'll just gif it:

you get the picture. feeling guilty despite having no logical reason to.

but anyways the whole reason I got onto this is specifically because of the exchange in S3E12, when Ryo's revealing all of their secrets, and he says 'you can confirm all of this.'

But thing is, Three kind of can't? At least as far as Ryo knows. Two, Five, and Six all have a way to externally confirm what Ryo's telling them (through digital or physical evidence). But as far as Ryo's concerned, Sarah is dead, her body was spaced months ago, and Boone certainly wasn't keeping a journal, so Three has no way to confirm that externally. The only thing he has to go off of is his guilt- he doesn't need proof because on some level, he's known from the moment he saw Sarah in that pod that he killed her, he just didn't know the details. Ryo's barely giving him new information- just putting words to the knowledge that's already there.

anywho this is why I love rewatching so much- things are set up so early and it's clear they had a plan and stuck to it in a way that winds up being very emotionally satisfying. three cheers for the writer's room

[the-blue-eyed-firebender]

Hi!

Have I ever told you this? (Probably! But I'll say it again, ha) It's been an absolute treat reading your Royai fics. Thank you for joining this fandom!

What are your inspirations? 😃 In terms of writing style, but also ideas, etc. Please indulge us all, and please do geek out about your writing process too!

I always love learning about how fan fic writers work and write!

Thank you, and I hope you have a lovely day~

Hey there!

You are so kind. It's hard to put into words how much it means to have had such a lovely reception from the FMA fandom. I used to write a lot when I was a kid, but eventually stopped due to some unfortunate and painful circumstances. Writing for this fandom over the last couple of months has been an incredible journey. It has healed some very intrinsic parts of me that I’d forgotten were wounded, and I have written more in the last few months than I have in 15+ years.

So, first and foremost, thank YOU.

Inspirations: I've always been a lover of fantasy and science fiction. My very first fandom was Star Wars, followed shortly thereafter by Avatar: The Last Airbender. Recently, I've become a huge Sarah J. Maas fan (I read ALL of her books in the year 2023 - minus the new one that came out in January). I've also enjoyed Suzanne Collins and Leigh Bardugo (particularly her Six of Crows duology).

But really, I just love stories. I love adventure, magic, and romance. I look for complex characters, vibrant worlds, strong magic systems, and rich backstories. My favorites always involve women who embody strength (mental, physical, and emotional), capable leadership, and femininity. Characters who are equal parts war-like and compassionate, fearsome yet soft.

But my very best inspiration comes from real-life: my sweet husband. It's going to sound silly, but I feel like I write about true love because I've experienced it. This guy was 100% written by a woman (lol). He's read everything I've written, and provides the most wonderful feedback and encouragement.

As far as style/process, I feel like I am still developing it? Haha! It's only been a minute since I got back into writing. But it usually starts with daydreaming to music (often songs without lyrics; Secession Studies is a favorite), typically while I'm in the car. With my first FMA fic, The Counteroffer, I was listening to "Beautiful Things" by Benson Boone on repeat. Something about the way he sings "Please stay / I want you, I need you, oh God" really set the tone for that story. That, combined with inspiration from the infamous Chapter 54 of A Court of Mist and Fury.

There's usually an moment or a line of dialogue that pops into my brain first (for The Counteroffer, it was Hawkeye lifting the discharge paperwork to find Mustang has also given her an unsigned marriage certificate). I write that bit, then the rest of the story sort of fills in around it. I write in disjointed fragments, adding chunks here and there and then connecting them together. Sometimes I shuffle things around, moving chunks to different locations in the story to see how it changes the flow.

Beginnings, endings, and titles are usually the hardest for me to come up with.

And here's a few of my own patterns that I've started to notice:

I love stories that read with a poetic beat to them (I think the best example of this in my own work is Hourglass).

I use line breaks for emphasis a lot.

I am intentional about keeping things concise but impactful. When it comes to word count, my personal rule is quality > quantity, always.

I try not to use "said/says" without other descriptive words.

If a portion of the story is dialogue driven, I'll read it aloud to make sure it actually flows like real conversation.

I often drop "and" from sentences when I feel like it messes with the poetic flow ("She became familiar with the space between heartbeats, the squeeze of the trigger, the wet sound of a bullet finding its mark." - Hourglass).

In the same vein, I use a sort of "rule of threes" quite a bit. I break sentences into three parts, offer three descriptions of a character's observation/sensation/emotion, repeat the same phrase three times, etc. (Oh look, I've done it again.)

I write in third person, present tense, always from the perspective of one character at a time. I feel like this puts myself and the reader right in the middle of the action, as it's happening. I dive deep into the primary character's thoughts and senses, both internal and external.

I re-read/re-watch the original content (i.e. FMAB, the manga) often, even if it's just in small parts. It keeps me grounded to who these characters are, and prevents me from going OOC. It's so easy to lose track of characterization if it's been too long since I watched an episode or read a chapter.

Hoo boy this got long. Thanks so much for the delightful ask! It was a lot of fun to dive into my own writing process and habits.

[wanderingaldecaldo]

2025 Writing Resolutions

I'm not usually one for resolutions but I've been kicking around the idea of having some writing goals after the post I shared last week, and came up with a few that are feasible:

Finish the first draft for one (or both!) of the stories I started last year in new-to-me fandoms

Edit and post the Presidential PWP

Finish the DA:I Blackwall fic that's been 95% complete for years

Daily 15min sprint

Some personal musings about writing (and reading) and WIPs under the cut.

Last fall I lost my Cyberpunk hyperfixation but, after three years of nonstop Val and Mitch (and Rosalind) through VP and modding, it's been a boon to my writing, and once more I'm reminded why I love hate one of my oldest hobbies. I really wish I could reassure my younger self that actually, no, I'll never run out of things to write.

Over my tumblr break, I rewatched the whole Daniel Craig Bond series, all because I really wanted to watch Skyfall, my fave of the entire franchise. Something new happened this time around as I watched the films — Judi Dench and Daniel Craig's chemistry gripped me by the throat and wouldn't let go.

I'm not generally one to visit AO3 (or ff.net back in the day) after consuming a piece of media; I could list out the ones that have on two hands, and still have several fingers left over, even with including the new ones mentioned here.

This time, I was lucky to have found a ship with a backlog of fics to work through. For weeks I read fics, and rewatched their scenes ad nauseam, ever thankful I'd bought the 4-disc set and wasn't reliant having the correct streaming service. Eventually inspiration struck and I started what I thought would be a oneshot. But where there's a WIP there's always more ideas lurking around the corner, and suddenly the oneshot developed into two chapters, with the second spinning quickly into a third.

Over the course of a two-week head cold that knocked out all writing aspirations, I binged all of Ted Lasso and became enamored with the characters and themes, but especially the relationship between Ted and Rebecca. As I watched, I didn't know the status of the show; in fact I had assumed season 4 was in the works. :sad trombone: No slow burn for me. After I finished it, I wanted to rewatch it immediately but decided not to; I wanted to sit with it first, to let it digest. I really didn't think I'd reach the AO3 stage — usually it's like the proverbial bolt of lightning that strikes quickly — but this time, appropriately, it was the friends-to-lovers trope that I adore.

Again, I was lucky to find a veritable treasure trove of fics. I wasn't the only one who wanted more of those two, and again, I found myself inspired with an idea that was two lines of dialog and half a scene held together with spit and twine, and since then it's spaghettied into —yes, you guessed it — three chapters.

Neither of them are anywhere close to being shitty first drafts; they're hand-scratched pages written over consecutive nights where I wrote seven sentences, or maybe seven words or even paragraphs, before nodding off over the notebook. The 00M fic has 2k words transcribed, and that's just the first half of the first chapter, while the rest is mostly vibes and smut, and now there's a fourth chapter, because of course there is. The tedbecca has less than a quarter of that, but it's at least all transcribed now.

Enter Cyberpunk 2.2 and remaking Val and falling in love with this stupid kleptopunk streetrat all over again. Glory shared a "what AO3 tag are you" quiz and I got "only one bed" and said it was ironic since I'd never written one, and she jokingly (???) challenged me to change that. Welp, friends, my brain couldn't stop poking at that and now I have an idea for a new fic featuring fan fave "only one bed" trope, and also a fix-it, another first. Usually I am content to leave canon as is and play within the margins and behind-the-scenes of what we're given, though maybe I will add my own touch to scenes; but I always felt that Driss's death was cheap and easy to avoid. Maybe if we'd been given an actual RPG with real choices, it could have been, but that's a topic for a different rant.

And with the reignited love for Cyberpunk, plus the desire to mark things off my to-do list, I opened the Presidential PWP tonight when I was going through my folders, and my god, it happened — I'd forgotten it! I read a few paragraphs and decided I need to save the reread for another night when I can read it uninterrupted and take fresh notes on it. Probably should recruit a beta, too.

Another very long standing to-do is the Blackwall fic. I started it in maybe 2015, and worked on it off-and-on for a couple of years alongside a ME Shakarian/Shaeed love triangle (don't at me), trading off between them as the hyperfixations switched back and forth. The Blackwall fic is a true oneshot and has been waiting on an ending for for 6+ years now. It's literally 95% done, and I fucking adore it so much, and just need to Write It, and get that draft out the door (and maybe to a beta? idk, we'll see).

So that gets to the last resolution — this is the one that I know I'll fail in that I won't do it daily; I will miss days. But it's an aspirational goal, and I know firsthand how beneficial writing daily is, even if I only get a few words out of it. It still gets the ol' compost bin in my brain going in the background, churning all those ideas and thoughts into more WIPs.

I've also been thinking about the why. Writing is one of my oldest hobbies, following reading and video games. Returning to the Cyberpunk setting runs the risk of me picking up VP and modding again, newer hobbies that offer faster and more immediate feedback from other fans; hobbies that I know will cut into both my desire to write and my free time. By writing out my... writing resolutions, it will be easier to remember my priorities for the year.

Rat asked about our writing accomplishments in 2024. I answered that I wrote four new characters in two new-to-me fandoms, and that I let myself move from projects as did my interest without guilt. Now, it feels freeing to have four fandoms and a dozen stories to choose between when I want to write, but I will say the color-coded notebooks are getting hard to keep track of.